...
The three children stood there for a moment, staring at one another.
Tsumiki's eyes drifted downward to the large white dog crouched at Genichi's feet.
When it wasn't doing anything stupid, it actually looked… kind of cool.
She brightened almost immediately.
"Hi! I'm Tsumiki Fushiguro. This is my little brother, Megumi. Is that your dog?"
Genichi nodded. "Kamihara Genichi. An uncle gave him to me. His name's White Wolf."
Tsumiki smiled warmly. "Can I call you Genichi? Megumi has two dogs too. I can't see them, but he says one's black and one's white. But I can see yours!"
Genichi didn't bother explaining what a Cursed Corpse was.
On the surface, White Wolf really did just look like a dog.
Shiroō sat there with its tongue out. If it understood Tsumiki's praise, it didn't show it—but its tail wagged even harder.
Megumi, as always, wore his usual cool expression. But with his sister present, he remained quiet and relatively polite.
With Shiroō as the icebreaker, conversation slowly became easier.
At Tsumiki's urging, Megumi reluctantly formed hand signs—his fingers shaping the outline of a dog's head.
His shadow rippled.
From it emerged a large white Divine Dog.
Genichi watched closely.
So that was Megumi's technique.
Perhaps because Shiroō was a Cursed Corpse infused with cursed energy, the Divine Dog—"Divine Dog: White"—didn't react with hostility. The two circled each other briefly, then seemed to reach some unspoken agreement.
Tsumiki's gentle nature helped too.
Even Megumi, usually sharp-edged and distant, softened noticeably when she was around.
They played until late afternoon.
Genichi had intended to head back early, but Tsumiki insisted he stay for dinner.
He vaguely remembered that he could cook himself. Probably. Though reaching the stove might be awkward.
But seeing Megumi's increasingly annoyed expression, Genichi smiled and agreed.
Dinner was simple and home-cooked.
And delicious.
Genichi ate happily—so happily that he nearly competed with Megumi for the last bites.
Megumi stared across the table.
This guy…
Why is he acting like he's lived here forever?
And why is Nee-san smiling at him so much?
When Gojo had mentioned they might attend school together, Megumi had already been irritated.
Now he poked at his rice with more force than necessary.
"Megumi," Tsumiki gently scolded, "don't play with your food."
That only made him gloomier.
…
After saying goodbye, Genichi returned to his new house.
It was spacious.
Too spacious for one child.
The silence was deep, almost echoing.
But he didn't feel afraid.
He just couldn't help thinking—
Yaga-sensei was right.
Gojo really was kind of unreliable.
White Wolf ran around the house, familiarizing itself with every corner. Genichi explored too, eventually choosing a sunlit room on the second floor as his bedroom.
Everything was clean. Utilities worked. Someone had clearly prepared it in advance.
Maybe Gojo wasn't completely irresponsible.
His first night in the unfamiliar house passed quietly.
The next morning, Genichi used ingredients from the fridge to make a simple breakfast—fried egg, toast, milk.
Not long after he finished eating, there was a knock at the door.
He opened it.
Gojo stood there, grinning.
"Get ready. I'm taking you to test your technique. And I'll explain some basics about the jujutsu world while we're at it."
Genichi grabbed Shiroō.
The scenery shifted instantly.
They arrived at Jujutsu High again—but not within the main school grounds. This was a barren training field.
Masamichi Yaga stood nearby.
The moment Genichi was set down, Yaga's voice carried over.
"Gojo. He's still a child. Is this really necessary?"
"Relax," Gojo waved it off. "Genichi's talented. And his technique is… unusual. We need to figure it out."
He clapped once.
"Yaga-sensei here is an excellent teacher. He'll explain the basics."
Yaga stepped forward, ignoring White Wolf enthusiastically circling him.
"I'll start with fundamentals."
"Negative human emotions generate cursed energy, which in turn gives birth to curses. Every year in this country, over ten thousand people die or go missing under unexplained circumstances. Most of those cases are caused by curses."
"A Cursed Technique is an innate talent possessed by certain individuals. Once they learn to control their cursed energy and use it to activate that technique, they become jujutsu sorcerers."
He paused briefly.
"You can think of a Cursed Technique as a kind of superpower. Technique, cursed energy control, physical combat—these are all required disciplines."
He glanced at Gojo.
"For example, Gojo's technique is called Limitless. It's complex in theory, but in practice—anything approaching him slows infinitely, never quite reaching him."
"Most sorcerers make their techniques public knowledge. It creates a binding condition that enhances their power. Gojo also possesses the hereditary Six Eyes, allowing him to perceive the flow of cursed energy and even the mechanics of techniques."
He looked at Genichi.
"Yours is unknown. We'll have to observe."
Gojo leaned in. "Alright, Genichi. Show us."
Genichi nodded.
"Sometimes I enter a special state. When that happens, I move very fast. Everything else feels… almost frozen."
He activated his technique.
Cursed energy stirred.
That familiar shift occurred.
The world slowed.
Or perhaps—
He accelerated.
Gojo could still track him.
Yaga struggled.
After roughly ten seconds, Genichi stopped.
Gojo had removed his blindfold.
His bright blue eyes—those Six Eyes—were fully exposed now.
He raised his hand.
A small, brilliant blue flame of cursed energy flickered at his fingertip.
"Try releasing your cursed energy like this."
Genichi followed the instruction. It wasn't his first time attempting something like this. With Gojo's guidance—however loosely structured it was—he managed to form a stable cluster of cursed energy at his fingertip.
"Now," Gojo said lightly, "apply your technique to it."
Genichi focused.
A Cursed Technique felt strange—like a limb you never consciously noticed until you moved it.
It was always there.
Part of you.
He reached inward and pushed.
The cursed energy vanished from his fingertip.
A visible streak tore through the air.
The sound that followed was sharp—but muted.
Yaga's expression darkened.
When Genichi himself moved at high speed, Yaga could at least vaguely perceive something.
But that projectile—
He hadn't seen it at all.
The disappearance and the trail were simultaneous.
If that attack had been aimed at him—
There would've been no time to dodge.
No time to counter.
Only defend.
And Genichi hadn't even used overwhelming cursed energy.
He was conserving.
Genichi himself felt slightly dizzy.
He hadn't used raw power like he had against that monstrous infant curse before.
This time, he'd focused on speed.
Pure acceleration.
Even he hadn't fully perceived that projectile.
Gojo shaded his eyes, looking toward where the energy had vanished.
Then he turned back.
Those crystalline blue eyes gleamed with something unreadable.
"…This is something else."
Yaga couldn't hold back anymore.
"Gojo. What is his technique?"
Gojo's smile remained—but his tone grew steadier.
"Time."
"Genichi's technique makes the concept of time tangible. He's not strengthening his body with cursed energy to move faster. He's accelerating the time affecting himself—or whatever he applies it to."
"That's why the result appears as extreme speed. His time isn't aligned with ours."
Yaga's eyes widened.
Throughout jujutsu history, there had been countless powerful techniques.
Take Master Tengen, for example—whose technique essentially granted immortality and evolutionary ascension.
Take Gojo himself—whose Limitless was absurdly powerful.
But a technique directly manipulating time?
He had never seen one.
And it wasn't just the technique.
Genichi's cursed energy reserves were enormous.
Gojo seemed to read his thoughts.
"His cursed energy generation is probably influenced by his technique too. It's likely been accelerating unconsciously since he was young."
"If my Limitless, combined with Six Eyes, lets me operate with near-zero cursed energy consumption…"
He grinned.
"…then Genichi might someday generate cursed energy faster than he spends it."
"In other words—his own version of 'infinite.'"
Genichi stared at his hands.
"Time…"
Images flashed through his mind.
Time.
This wasn't small.
This was something terrifying.
Before he could think deeper, Gojo slung an arm around him.
Grinning brightly, he asked, "So? Since it's never existed before, want to name it?"
Genichi paused.
Then quietly said—
"Jiōken."