The days following Yuji Itadori's unorthodox enrollment were a whirlwind of managed chaos. With Satoru gone to retrieve the final first-year, the responsibility of supervising Yuji's basic training fell to the second-years, which, by extension, mostly meant me.
It was a strange and stressful new reality. I divided my time between my own relentless training and overseeing Yuji's clumsy first steps into the world of Jujutsu. Megumi, stoic and patient, would try to explain the fundamentals of Cursed Energy.
"It comes from the gut," he'd say, demonstrating a basic flow of energy to his fist. "It's born from negative emotion, but you have to control it, detach from it, and wield it as a tool."
"Right, right, negative emotion, got it!" Yuji would reply with boundless enthusiasm, scrunching up his face. "Okay… I'm thinking about that time I lost a video game! And that movie with the sad dog! Raaaaah!" He'd then punch a training dummy, the impact purely physical, completely devoid of Cursed Energy.
Throughout it all, I was a quiet, watchful presence. My primary duty, as assigned by Satoru, was a grim one: I was the Sukuna-watch. My Stygian Eyes were constantly, subtly monitoring the flow of Yuji's soul, searching for any flicker, any surge of that ancient, malevolent power. It was exhausting, like watching a sleeping dragon, knowing it could awaken at any moment and incinerate everything I held dear. Yuji, bless his good-natured heart, seemed to misinterpret my intense, constant scrutiny.
"Man, Gojo-senpai is super serious about training, huh?" he'd whisper to Megumi. "She never takes her eyes off me! It's kinda scary, but also motivating!"
Megumi would just sigh. He was the only one who I had shared the truth with—that Sukuna had taken a specific, unnerving interest in me. It made him even more protective, and his glares towards Yuji were often a mixture of camaraderie and deep-seated suspicion.
This was our new normal. And it was about to get a whole lot louder.
Satoru returned three days later, his text message a simple, ominous: "Harajuku station. 2 PM. We're picking up your new classmate."
Megumi and I were there on time. Yuji, of course, was already there, excitedly pointing out crepe stands. I stood back, my senses on alert. Satoru appeared a few minutes later, not walking, but simply leaning against a railing as if he'd been there all along. And with him was a girl.
She had bright, orange-dyed hair, piercing eyes, and an expression of supreme, unshakeable confidence. She was dressed in a stylish uniform, a stark contrast to our own standard-issue black, and she was currently glaring at Satoru with an annoyance that I found instantly relatable. Nobara Kugisaki. The third and final pillar of the new generation.
The meeting was a comedic disaster, just as the story foretold. Yuji, the friendly idiot. Megumi, the gloomy stoic. And Nobara, the country girl with a city attitude, utterly disappointed by the caliber of her new classmates.
"We're going to Roppongi," Satoru announced after the awkward introductions, a grin plastered on his face. "There's a cursed building there. It's a field test! For Nobara, and for Yuji."
As we headed for the train, Satoru fell into step beside me, his voice dropping low so the first-years couldn't hear.
"Alright, Aki," he said, his tone shifting from playful teacher to serious commander. "Here's the deal. This is their test, not yours. You'll come with us to the site, but you will remain outside the building. Your job is to maintain a perimeter and observe. I want to see how they function as a unit, how they handle a real threat without you or me holding their hands."
I frowned. "And if they can't handle it?"
"Don't intervene unless one of them is about to actually die," he said, his expression hardening. "I'm not joking. A scrape, a broken bone, that's fine. They need to learn. Your test today isn't about power. It's about restraint. It's about learning to trust your comrades. Can you do that?"
"I understand," I said quietly.
The building in Roppongi was a grimy, abandoned multi-story complex, oozing a palpable sense of dread. A low-grade curtain had already been cast by one of the school's attendants.
"Okay, kids!" Satoru chirped, handing Yuji a Cursed Tool—the Slaughter Demon blade. "There are curses in there. Go exorcise them. Nobara, Yuji, you take the building. Megumi, you clear the grounds outside. Aki is your emergency-only lifeline. Have fun!"
With that, he vanished, leaving the four of us there.
Megumi gave me a short, concerned look before summoning his Demon Dog and heading off to patrol the perimeter. Yuji and Nobara, after a brief, tense argument, stormed into the building.
And I was left alone, in the eerie silence outside.
Satoru's test was a unique form of torture. I couldn't see them, but with my heightened senses, I could feel them. I could feel the flare of Cursed Energy as they encountered a spirit. I could feel the faint tremors of their battle. My Stygian Eyes saw the ugly, tangled lines of the curses infesting the building, and I saw the three bright, fragile lifelines of my friends moving among them.
My mind was a constant, frantic stream of calculations. I tracked their progress, their energy levels, the number of curses they were dispatching. My hand rested on the hilt of the short sword I now carried, my fingers itching to draw it. Every time I felt a sudden spike of malevolent energy from inside, my protective instincts screamed at me to crash through the wall and end the threat myself.
Then, I felt it. A surge of power, more potent than the others, on an upper floor. I felt Yuji's energy signature flare, then Nobara's. And then, a new signature. A small, terrified one. A child.
A hostage situation, my mind supplied instantly.
The Cursed Energy of the spirit spiked again, vicious and cornered. I felt Nobara's energy signature waver, a flicker of fear and pain.
My hand tightened on my sword. My Cursed Energy began to pool, the air around my hand growing cold as I prepared to manifest Black. Satoru be damned, I thought. I'm not losing anyone else.
But just as I was about to move, I felt another surge. It was Yuji. His energy, usually so clumsy and uncontrolled, flared with a bright, courageous determination. It was followed by a wave of Nobara's power, sharp and focused as a nail. They were working together.
I hesitated, my body coiled like a spring. I forced myself to wait, to trust. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done. The cacophony of Cursed Energy inside the building reached a crescendo, then collapsed into a single, decisive pop. The largest cursed signature was gone.
A few minutes later, the front doors of the building creaked open. Yuji and Nobara emerged, bickering loudly about who had landed the final blow. Between them walked a small boy, shaken but unharmed. They were alive. They had succeeded.
They saw me waiting, my hand still resting on my sword.
"What, you were just standing out here the whole time, senpai?" Nobara asked, her tone accusatory but lacking any real heat. She was trying to project her usual tough-girl confidence, but I could see the exhaustion and the lingering adrenaline in her eyes.
I took a deep breath, forcing the tension from my body. I gave them a small, rare, and genuine smile. "You did well," I said. "All of you."
The simple words of approval, coming from the quiet, intense upperclassman who they all saw as a prodigy, seemed to have a surprising effect. Nobara's tough facade softened, a faint blush of pride on her cheeks. Yuji beamed, scratching the back of his neck. Even Megumi, who had rejoined us, looked pleased.
"Excellent!" Satoru's voice announced as he appeared between them, throwing his arms around Yuji and Nobara. "You all pass! A new, chaotic, but ultimately successful trio is born! And you," he said, looking at me, "passed your test, too. Good job holding back."
He announced he was taking us all out for a celebratory dinner, his treat. As he herded the three noisy, bickering first-years down the street, I fell into step behind them.
I watched them—Yuji, loud and kind; Nobara, fierce and loyal; Megumi, the stoic, thoughtful center that held them together. They were a perfect, chaotic storm, a force that could very well change the world.
A wave of profound affection washed over me, followed by an equally profound sorrow. I was their senpai. Their protector. Their secret guardian who knew the terrible fates that awaited them. My duty was to forge them into weapons, to prepare them for the wars I knew were coming. But in doing so, I could never truly be a part of their bright, loud, and beautifully normal world. I was the oracle, forever on the outside looking in. And for the first time, that felt less like a burden, and more like a privilege.