"Tastes bland... but good enough."
A bowl of steaming katsudon was placed in front of Yoichi, the aroma momentarily cutting through the tension of the day.
He continued to eat with intensity, realizing he hadn't touched a single meal since breakfast.
The endless briefings and the sudden deep dive into the Star Corridor had drained his battery more than he cared to admit.
"Bland?! This is the finest cafeteria food in the Jujutsu world! I personally made sure the chef knows how to handle a deep-fryer," Satoru chirped, waving a pair of chopsticks in the air. "But seriously, you eat like you're preparing for a war. Or like you've been fasting in a cave for three days. Which is it?"
Yoichi replied after swallowing a large bite.
"Hard to keep a lean build when your body is constantly burning fuel just to keep those big guns with me, though."
Yuki laughed, leaning her chin on her palm as she picked at her own plate. "I believe it. You're carrying a lot of weight, literally and figuratively! Though, I'm still stuck on what Tengen said. That's way more interesting unlike always being put in a political spot."
"Don't let that old man hear you, he'll have a stroke," Yoichi noted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"I'm curious, though. If you're a Special Grade, why are you hanging out with us instead of doing... whatever it is you do? Don't you have world-saving duties or something?"
A shrug was offered by Yuki. "The world is big, Yoichi-kun. I prefer to study the root causes rather than just bandaging the wounds. Besides, I wanted to see if you were actually as dangerous as the reports said."
"And?"
"And I think you're worse," she said with a wink. "In the best way possible."
"See! I told you she'd like him!" Satoru added. "But really, Yoichi, keep your head on a swivel. The fact that Tengen knows your bloodline means you aren't just a guest anymore. They might be spooky..."
"I've noticed it too," Yoichi replied, settling the chopsticks down.
"It's a bit pathetic, isn't it?"
An awkward silence ensued.
Satoru and Yuki exchanged a glance, the weight of Yoichi's observation hitting a bit too close to home.
"Well," Satoru finally said, breaking the quiet with a clap of his hands. "That's why you're here! To shake things up. Just don't shake them so hard that the whole building falls on us, okay? I like my office. It has a nice view."
"No promises, Sensei," Yoichi muttered.
The heavy clatter of boots on the linoleum floor announced their arrival before they even reached the table.
Nanami, Shoko, and Yaga walked slowly into the cafeteria, their silhouettes framed by the harsh overhead lights.
However, they weren't alone.
An entourage of masked sorcerers, dressed in charcoal-black tactical gear, moved in perfect unison side by side with the three leaders.
The air in the room instantly curdled.
A grim seriousness had taken root on the faces of Yaga and his companions, a stark departure from the relative peace of the meal.
Yaga's gaze locked onto Satoru.
The message was received instantly without a single word being exchanged.
"Alright, the judgment begins! Are you ready?" Satoru clapped his hands together and stood up, his grin wide but lacking any warmth.
Soon, the rest of the crowd, the few students and staff lingering in the corners, looked at the child.
Their eyes were mirrored by the masked sorcerers, whose presence was brimming with an unmistakable killing intent.
With a serene smile remaining on his face, Yoichi pushed his empty bowl aside and stood up. The white coat settled over his entire torso like a shroud as he adjusted the straps of his holsters.
"Let's head out, then."
No matter the decisions of the old farts, he remained calm. His posture was fluid and relaxed as if every variable was already accounted for and every outcome was under his control.
Soon after, the moonlight shone on the multiple individuals, casting long shadows across the stone path.
Raging winds blew forth, causing the leaves and branches around them to croak and groan. The sound blended with the heavy march of the group as they moved toward the high-arched hall of judgment.
Bang!
A heavy thud echoed through the corridor as Satoru slammed the double doors open with zero regard for the sanctity of the room.
"Satoru Gojo, reporting for duty! Did you all miss me?" Satoru let out a wink, though he had a blindfold on.
His blindfolded gaze immediately landed on the two figures seated toward the front.
"Oh, look! It's Principal Gakuganji! Still holding onto that guitar, or did you finally upgrade to an electric bass?" Satoru teased, leaning down to get into the old man's personal space. "And Utahime-chan! You look as stressed as ever. You really should try those face masks I recommended; wrinkles are the real cursed spirits, you know?"
"Shut your mouth, Satoru!" A vein throbbed in Gakuganji's temple, patience evaporating in seconds. "Have you no respect for the gravity of these proceedings? This isn't one of your...pathetic jokes!"
Satoru's grin sharpened, his posture tensing as he prepared to snap back with something even more inflammatory.
However, a raspy voice emerged behind the screens, stopping him from saying any more words.
"Enough, Satoru Gojo."
Soon after, Yoichi and the rest of the group arrived inside. The candlelit and traditional room cast long, flickering shadows that danced across the thin paper windows.
Five higher-ups were sitting down behind a row of translucent screens. Their silhouettes were the only thing visible, hunched shapes that felt more like judgmental statues than living humans.
Yoichi stood at the center of the room, the white of his coat standing out against the dark wood and golden candlelight.
A subtle shift occurred as Yuki drifted away from the center of the room. She leaned toward another observer, Naobito Zen'in, who sat with a gourd of sake and a look of profound boredom.
"What do you think will happen?" a low whisper was offered by Yuki.
"Tch. You know already, don't you?" Naobito merely replied, scoffing as he glanced at the boy. "The old Guard doesn't like things they can't measure. When they can't measure it, they bury it."
The room grew cold as the central screen flickered with a shadow's movement. A raspy, collective judgment began to fill the chamber.
"Yoichi Murakami," the voice began, dragging out each syllable.
"Your existence is a breach of the fundamental laws that have governed this land since the Heian era."
"You possess Cursed Energy and you manifest tools of demonic origin, representing a variable that threatens the stability of the Jujutsu hierarchy."
"To allow you to live is to invite a collapse of the order we have spent centuries perfecting."
"Furthermore, a bloodline such as yours, one that carries the 'chaotic' essence of the past, cannot be allowed to propagate."
"Therefore, the decision is final. You are to be executed immediately. To ensure no further 'anomalies' arise, your entire family line will be purged alongside you."
The reasoning hung in the air like a fog.
It was the logic of fearful men, a desperate attempt to kill a forest fire with a cup of water.
A single unified thought echoed through the minds of Yuki, Nanami, Shoko, Yaga, and Satoru.
This is such a stupid mistake!
"Still unbending as ever," a growl escaped from Satoru's throat.
"Listen here! You're talking about a child who just saved an entire sector! We can negotiate, we can—"
Satoru's attempt to bend the decision was cut short. A hand was placed firmly on his shoulder, stopping the words mid-sentence.
So it goes like this huh...
Yoichi stepped past him, but a chuckle escaped from his mouth.
"Old farts... don't you still get it? Hahaha!" A wild laugh broke the silence of the sacred hall. "I'm not locked here with you all. You're locked here with me!"
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Soon, red mystical runes materialized en masse, blotting Yoichi's skin like a fast-moving infection. They glowed with a violent, pulsating light that drowned out the flickering candles.
"Stop him! Execute him now!" the higher-ups commanded, their shadows thrashing behind the screens in a sudden panic.
The masked sorcerers lunged forward, blades drawn, but to no avail.
Since time immemorial, humanity has wondered...
Are there any beings similar to them?
Eyes scanned the horizon, searching for peers among the shadows.
From the rough mountains to the treacherous seas, humans explored each of nature's avenues of life.
And then... a nightmare answered the call.
Monsters flooded the earth with hunger driving every movement. Piggish eyes gleamed with a void of empathy while teeth shredded human hope into a crimson feast.
Fear forced the survivors to etch the horror into stones and flimsy papers.
Murals and depictions captured the crushing might of an Oni, the whimsical desire of a Tengu, and the ruthless yet beautiful nature of a Yuki-Onna.
Each characterization brought the creatures into light with only one grand meaning.
Humans aren't the only ones living in this world.
But then... they disappeared.
Like a faint smoke, these monsters that brought death and famine across humanity are gone.
The people rejoiced until centuries passed, treating these beings as mythological creatures, a figment of imagination without any defined inklings of their existence.
However, now, they have emerged once more.
A form that was neither written nor depicted in the annals of history.
A being that came into a human itself.
A chaotic force of nature...
A devil!
Bent downward horns carved through the air as the skeletal structure of a demon took hold.
Standing at a towering 190 cm, the boy was gone, replaced by a monstrous silhouette of shifting power.
A red cloaked dress of energy billowed around his frame like a royal shroud of blood.
And a maniacal smile stretched across his transformed face, revealing teeth that weren't built for human food.
Yoichi had appeared in his Devil Trigger Form.
Like Shakespeare performing his greatest hits, the eyes of the public widened in a mixture of terror and twisted awe.
The distorted red lightning within Yoichi's form brought a rhythmic yet chaotic noise, a static hum that sounded like the screams of a thousand forgotten battles.
Soon then, Yoichi disappeared.
Not even an inkling of his presence was sensed by the Six Eyes or the heightened instincts of the Special Grades.
He bypassed the very concept of travel until he appeared right in front of a higher-up with a gun held, ready and steady.
"A-abomination!"
The man retreated with extreme panic etched into his wrinkled face, truly dreadful at Yoichi's appearance.
His chair toppled over as he scrambled backward, facing the end of a barrel that glowed with infernal light.
The four higher-ups retreated as a wall of elite sorcerers materialized, forming a defensive bulwark in front of the trembling old men.
Swords were drawn and techniques were primed, yet the air felt too heavy to breathe.
Yoichi didn't care.
"So this is a demon..."
Shoko's voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed her.
The oppressive force wasn't something that anyone could withstand for long; it was suffocating and dominating.
The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to wail in agony, and the candlelights flickered constantly under the duress of his presence.
Gakuganji and Yaga opened their mouths to speak, but the words died in their throats.
"Yoichi-kun... is that still you?" Satoru asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
There must be a limit to this...
The chaotic pressure within his perception was truly stunning.
Like a volcano, the energy radiated from the boy, erupting with such intensity that it made even the "Strongest" sweat bullets.
"Say, Sensei..." a deep voice came out from Yoichi's throat. It sounded like grinding stone and burning sulfur.
"Do you mind if I kill them all?"
Upon hearing the request, the others couldn't help but suck in a cold breath.
The sheer audacity was remarkable, yet with the power manifesting right in front of their eyes, no one doubted he could do it.
I mean, they had to...
However, they sensed a lingering hesitation, a thread of connection still tied to Satoru.
"You know we couldn't do that, right? So maybe let us talk first like civilized men and—" Satoru began, but a sharp interruption followed.
"But what if I wanted to?"
Soon, the temperature in the hall went bone-chillingly cold. Frost began to creep across the tatami mats, reaching for the feet of the executioners.
"Haaahhh... then I have no choice but to stop you," a resigned sigh escaped from Satoru's mouth.
He reached up and removed his blindfold, letting it drop to the floor. His blue eyes shone with an intense, focused light as he locked onto the devilish figure.
Without further ado, Yoichi clicked the trigger.
Bang!
The impact of the bullet was devastating.
A deafening roar filled the space as the traditional room became a total mess, wood and paper disintegrating into a large hole in the wall.
Dust and splinters choked the air, blinding the elite guards.
Yet, as the dust settled, Satoru appeared directly in the path of the shot. He stood unmoved, blocking the lethal strike with the absolute barrier of his Infinity.
Within 0.001 seconds, Satoru employed Blue to compress the very fabric of space, teleporting in a fraction of a heartbeat to interpose himself between the predator and the prey.
Known for his unparalleled perception, strength, and intuition, the pinnacle of modern sorcery succeeded where any other would have perished. He made it.
A feat second only to Aoi Todo, of course.
"AAAAGGGHHH!"
A guttural shriek tore through the silence of the shattered hall.
Sure, Satoru blocked the major part of the impact, but the sheer, overlapping pressure of the bullet's wake was too immense to be contained entirely.
The higher-up took a partial brunt of the damage; in an instant, his right leg and arm were gone, evaporated into a fine crimson mist by the vacuum left behind.
"Is that enough?"
Satoru's voice dropped to a chilling, low frequency. His blue eyes locked onto Yoichi's crimson ones, staring into the boy's soul with a weight that could crush mountains. The atmosphere was a literal war zone of static and shattered wood.
"You're no fun now," a distorted, echoing reply came from Yoichi.
The red cloak and horns vanished as he transformed back to his original form.
With a casual shrug, he walked past the myriad of eyes staring at him in frozen terror.
In those gazes, a multitude of emotions and expressions swirled; fear, awe, and hatred that could never be conveyed by words alone. Under the moonlight streaming through the jagged hole in the wall, Yoichi's monochromatic hair shone like silver.
"What are you waiting for?! Get him! Kill the monster!" A roar of command erupted from another elder, cracking with hysteria
A metallic spark ignited in the dim light.
Yoichi smiled as a sorcerer's blade aimed for his neck was blocked by a lighthearted unbrandishing of Rebellion.
The broadsword didn't even leave its sheath fully before the attacker was sent staggering back.
Then soon, the elite squad swarmed.
Multiple sorcerers lunged in a coordinated strike, their blades and spears sinking into his torso and limbs. They stabbed him to death, or so it seemed, as Yoichi's head drooped low, his body becoming a pincushion for cursed steel.
A heavy silence followed.
The elite sorcerers looked at each other with a similar, hesitant thought...
Did we actually do it?
"CHOP HIS HEAD! DON'T JUST STAND THERE!" Another higher-up ordered, his finger trembling as he pointed at the slumped figure.
"What wishful thinking..." Shoko muttered, her eyes never leaving the 'corpse.'
"Why not? They got him pretty good," Yuki added, her tone suggesting she knew better.
"Do you really think he would die to that?! He's a demon!" Yaga answered Yuki's question, his voice tight with anticipation.
"You guessed that right!"
Yoichi's head snapped up, a maniacal smile stretching across his face. The wounds on his chest didn't just heal; they expelled the blades with a violentmuscular contraction.
"This party's getting crazy!"
Soon enough, Yoichi went along with the elite sorcerers for a deadly tango.
He didn't just fight, but performed with grace.
A high kick caught a masked sorcerer under the jaw, sending him spiraling into the ceiling.
He spun, using a grapple to turn one attacker into a human shield against a burst of Cursed Energy. Restricting techniques were woven through the air by the elders' guards, yet Yoichi danced through the glowing threads like they were nothing more than party streamers.
A punch landed on a guard's reinforced chest plate, shattering the metal and the ribs beneath it.
He flowed between the elite ranks, a monochromatic blur of violence. Rebellion stayed on his back for most of it, his bare hands doing the work of a butcher.
He parried a spear with his forearm, the skin not even breaking, before slamming his elbow into the wielder's temple.
The plethora of skills being thrown at him; fire, shadows, and physical enhancement simply slid off his skin.
Drenched in blood, the boy looked down at his ruined white coat and sighed.
"How gross! Sensei, where's the shower here?" A casual question then came out from Yoichi.
On the spot, a lot of people were actually mortified. The masked sorcerers who still had the strength to stand scrambled backward, their breathing ragged and their spirits broken.
However, the more observant individuals; Satoru, Yuki, and Nanami realized the truth of the "slaughter."
Not a single life had been extinguished.
Yoichi hadn't pulled the trigger on their hearts, nor had he snapped a single neck.
Just a bit of a warm-up.
Every elite sorcerer lay groaning on the floor, nursing shattered ribs or dislocated joints, but they were very much alive.
The "Devil" had shown more restraint than the "Judges" who had ordered his death.
Satoru's focus softened as he let out a long, airy whistle. A finger was pointed by Satoru toward the northern exit of the courtyard.
"Dormitories are that way, Yoichi-kun! Take the second left after the training field. Tell the housemother I sent you; she might actually give you a towel without complaining!"
Satoru said, regaining its usual playful lilt as if a massacre hadn't just been averted.
Soon enough, Yoichi prepared to leave.
A mock-theatrical bow was offered by the boy to the cowering Higher-Ups and the broken guards, acknowledging the crowd for his spectacular performance.
With a final, sharp click of his boots on the stone, he turned and left the hall in an instant.
On the other hand, the people who knew Yoichi; Mainly Yaga, Shoko, and Nanami merely shook their heads in helplessness.
They watched the blood-stained teenager whistle a tune as he walked into the moonlight, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he had just declared war on the most powerful men in the country.
It was destined to be a long night.
________
Holy 3k word count! As for the bold text, think of it as Tengen's narration.