"Is that so?"
Masamichi Yaga stared at the intelligence report, his voice sinking into a heavy silence. Souma Gojo, critically wounded. Satoru Gojo, sealed. His two brightest pupils, his two "problem children," had fallen into such dire straits. And he, their teacher, could do absolutely nothing.
The irony was a bitter pill to swallow.
Creak—
The door groaned open. Yoshinobu Gakuganji entered, his hawkish, shadowed eyes fixed intently on Yaga. His voice was like a shard of ice. "Yaga. The method for creating an Abrupt-Mutated Cursed Corpse. Do you truly intend to claim you do not know it?"
Yaga turned slowly to face the elderly principal. Though their ideologies were worlds apart, they had shared an unexpected, decades-long friendship.
"So," Yaga said, his smile thin and self-deprecating. "The moment Souma and Satoru are out of the picture, you come for me? To think I was being protected by my own students all this time. I am a failure of a teacher."
"Yaga! Answer the question!" Gakuganji stepped forward, his voice rising in volume, cracking with an underlying desperation.
"I'm sorry. I don't know."
The same answer as always. Firm, steady, and infuriatingly stubborn. Ordinarily, Gakuganji would have merely scoffed and stormed out. This time, however, he remained rooted to the spot. Suddenly, he lunged forward, grabbing Yaga by his collar and hauling him upward.
"Yaga! This time is different! You have to give it up!" Gakuganji hissed, his face inches from Yaga's. "If you don't, they will kill you!"
Yaga's expression didn't flicker. His mind began to drift, wandering back to a sun-drenched forest within Tengen's barriers. He saw himself sitting beneath the shade of a massive tree, watching the emerald leaves dance in the breeze. Beside him, a small, dog-headed humanoid Cursed Corpse—barely a meter tall—swung its legs back and forth.
"This forest is covered by Lord Tengen's barrier, Takeru," Yaga's memory-self said softly. "As long as you stay within these trees, you'll be safe."
"What about you?" the small voice asked.
"I have to go somewhere far away for a while."
Takeru, the dog-headed corpse, paused. He reached out, grabbing Yaga's hand and pulling him toward a thicket deeper in the woods. "If you're going on a long trip, you have to say goodbye to everyone first!"
Takeru pointed at himself with a proud sniff. "How about that? Am I a genius or what?!"
From the bushes, dozens of small figures emerged. A cat, a rabbit, a pig, a small dog... all Cursed Corpses, gathering around Yaga with the innocent, joyous smiles of children.
"Yaga!!!"
Gakuganji's roar shattered the memory. The elderly man was trembling with rage and grief. "You need to understand the gravity of this situation!"
Yaga's gaze returned to the present, his eyes calm. "I'm sorry. I don't know."
Same answer. Same tone. Same stubbornness.
Gakuganji's grip slackened. His shoulders slumped, the strength seemingly draining out of his body all at once. "Fine. Have it your way." He turned and walked out without looking back.
The Detention Center
Atsuya Kusakabe lit a cigarette, the orange cherry glowing in the dim light as he looked through the bars at a massive, furry silhouette. Panda.
The moment the higher-ups targeted Yaga, they ordered the immediate detention of Panda. As the only successful Abrupt-Mutated Cursed Corpse, if Yaga refused to talk, they planned to dissect Panda to see if they could replicate the miracle. If it failed, they figured losing one sorcerer was a small price to pay for the secret of immortality.
Kusakabe took a deep drag and exhaled a slow, rolling cloud of smoke.
"Hey! Can you not smoke in such a cramped space, Sensei?" Panda complained loudly. "It smells terrible!"
Kusakabe's eye twitched. "If you don't like the smell, then why don't you just get lost?"
"What are you talking about? I'm being detained—"
"Shut up and stand back!"
"Eh? What? What for?"
Panda retreated to the back of the cell, confused, as Kusakabe lowered his center of gravity. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade.
"New Shadow Style: Bumper Crop!"
CRACK!
The cell door didn't just open; it collapsed into pieces. Panda stared at Kusakabe, utterly bewildered. The instructor merely waved his hand dismissively. "What are you looking at? Beat it."
"Uh... weren't you sent here by the higher-ups to guard me?"
"So what?"
"...I'm really leaving, okay?"
"Are you going or not?"
"I'm going! I'm going!" Panda scrambled out, scurrying toward the exit.
Kusakabe watched him go, his eyes softening with a somber complexity. "Go on, kid. Go see your father one last time. This is all I can do for you."
A Forest Near the High School
A woman walked through the lush greenery, holding the hand of a small, dog-headed Cursed Corpse. They reached a shallow stream, and the woman—Ume Kusakabe, Atsuya's sister—scooped the corpse into her arms to carry him across.
"Careful, Takeru. Don't get wet, or you'll catch a cold."
"Mama, I can't catch a cold!"
Ume laughed softly, poking Takeru's stuffed nose. "Even so, Mama has to protect you."
"Then when I grow up, I'll protect Mama!" Takeru declared, his chest swelling with pride. Then, his ears drooped. "Too bad I can't leave this forest. Even when I grow up, I can't stay by your side forever."
Takeru, like Panda, was an Abrupt-Mutated Cursed Corpse, possessing his own soul and emotions. Years ago, when Ume's child died, she had fallen into a bottomless depression. Atsuya had begged Yaga to use the child's essence to create Takeru. To protect both Yaga and the secret of his existence, Takeru was confined to this barrier.
Ume stroked his head. "It's alright. As long as you grow up healthy, Mama is happy."
Rumble—
Takeru looked up at the darkening sky. "It's going to rain!" He pulled Ume toward the shelter of a massive tree.
"Takeru, you shouldn't stand under a tree during a storm," she cautioned.
"It's okay! With Lord Tengen's barrier, lightning can't strike here. It's in the 'Jujutsu Knowledge: Barrier Volume.' I memorized the whole thing!" Takeru pointed at his nose again. "How about that, Mama? Am I a genius or what?!"
Night
Moths fluttered frantically around a buzzing streetlamp. With a sharp sizzle, one fell to the pavement, a charred husk.
Masamichi Yaga walked down the deserted road, his eyes flicking toward the top of the lamp. A sorcerer sat perched there, silhouetted against the moon.
"Truly a stubborn old man," the sorcerer remarked. "Still refusing to hand over the secret?"
Yaga didn't reply. He calmly removed his jacket, folding it neatly before settling into a combat stance. "Could we hurry this up? I have a son waiting for me."
"Yaga. Your opponent is me."
Gakuganji stepped out from the shadows, his face etched with sorrow.
The sorcerer on the streetlamp sneered. "Not an opponent, old man. An executioner."
"Shut up!" Gakuganji roared, his voice trembling.
Yaga's expression faltered for a microsecond when he saw Gakuganji, but he quickly regained his composure. "They sent my friend to do it. That sounds like them."
Gakuganji stared at him, his body shaking. "Yaga... I am asking you one last time. The method for the Abrupt-Mutated Cursed Corpse. Will you give it up?"
"If you speak now, I can guarantee your safety. You can even keep your status as a Special Grade."
"Hey, old man!" the sorcerer interrupted. "The orders are final. It's too late for talk—"
"I SAID SHUT UP!!!" Gakuganji screamed.
The sorcerer fell silent, wisely retreating into the shadows. Gakuganji turned back to Yaga, his eyes pleading for a different answer.
But Yaga only offered the same one. "I'm sorry. I don't know."
Same answer. Same tone. Same stubbornness.
Gakuganji felt a chill settle in his marrow. His eyes flashed with a mix of fury and heartbreak. He stood there, shivering, for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, his voice came out as a broken whisper. "Fine. Then... you must die."
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