After officially being promoted to Grade 1, Sōjun Minamoto's benefits were upgraded once again.
He made a trip to the mission building to update his information and collect resources—there was a lot to handle.
The most important thing was his work ID. As a form of identification, the old one had to be submitted and destroyed. Glancing at the new card, he saw that the design remained the same, with just one difference:
The [2] had become a [1].
A clear mark of his new status as a Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer.
As Sōjun Minamoto's assigned assistant supervisor, Shiko Mishima naturally had to accompany him.
Her process was even more complicated.
The two filled out evaluations for each other—both gave satisfactory marks.
"Here's to continued good teamwork," Shiko Mishima said with a smile, reaching out her hand.
Sōjun Minamoto smiled back and shook it.
"Let's keep doing our best."
On the way back, Shiko Mishima was silent, clearly in a bad mood. Knowing her well, Sōjun Minamoto could tell—she was jealous again.
Despite her formidable power—already close to Semi-Grade 1—her official rank remained Grade 3.
A commoner with no innate technique.
To the Higher-Ups, she was talentless and not worth cultivating. The kind they deemed disposable.
Some clans didn't even consider those without techniques as their equals.
This was how the warped hierarchy of the Jujutsu world had taken shape.
Back in her student days, Shiko Mishima had been left with some… less than pleasant memories.
She had done nothing wrong. But to some, just existing was a sin.
The arrogant looked down on her, and when they couldn't beat her, they targeted her more aggressively. That kind of treatment never stopped. As long as she—and people like her—existed, the prejudice would never go away.
So life hadn't been easy for Shiko Mishima over the years.
Jujutsu High, once a rising ground for prominent families, now held an exalted position in the Jujutsu world—but its original purpose had long been distorted.
Shiko Mishima herself, though carefree on the surface, still loved Jujutsu High deeply.
During her hardest times, a teacher brought her into Jujutsu High, giving her a new life. A life that was nothing like the ordinary—a life so extraordinary, she was willing to devote herself to it completely.
Her feelings for Jujutsu High were more gratitude toward that teacher than blind devotion.
That teacher was Masamichi Yaga, someone Sōjun Minamoto also knew well.
From a pawn to a player, he seemed to be orchestrating a larger game.
...
As they passed by Shiko Mishima's place, she didn't even notice, automatically continuing forward.
Sōjun Minamoto tilted his head and met her gaze. Her eyes were downcast, face glum.
He gently patted her head. "From now on, how about I be your recommender?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, he quickly dodged to the side.
Shiko Mishima slashed through the air but didn't seem to mind. "Then you'll have to recommend me twice."
She watched him leave with a smile, her right hand raised and waving faintly in the air. Her voice drifted on the wind, yet reached his ears clearly:
"It's okay. You can recommend me as many times as you want."
Shiko Mishima lifted her head again. In truth, she was lucky—during her darkest times, she always met good people.
...
Back at his place, Sōjun Minamoto resumed his usual shadowboxing routine.
His promotion to Grade 1 hadn't affected him much. His pace of life remained unchanged.
Strangely, despite his long time at Jujutsu High, participation in several major collaborative missions, and contact with many sorcerers, he had never once seen a successful Black Flash in person.
He had pored over all the case studies and analysis reports related to Black Flash within Jujutsu High, checking them against his own memories, and found no major inconsistencies.
When the impact and Cursed Energy strike within a margin of 0.000001 seconds, space distorts, and the Cursed Energy flares with a black light—2.5 times more powerful than usual.
No sorcerer can activate a Black Flash intentionally.
Those who have experienced it are worlds apart from those who haven't, in terms of their connection to the essence of Cursed Energy.
...
It was the same old refrain.
The explanations around Black Flash remained vague, but one point was universally accepted: success came down entirely to instinct.
When it struck, it was overwhelming. When it didn't, no amount of overthinking could help.
That was where Sōjun Minamoto found himself now.
Instinct—too subjective, hard to describe. The few remaining records were disjointed and inconsistent.
Sōjun often fell into deep thought during training.
Injecting Cursed Energy into a straight punch, the energy split into several portions—to reinforce the fist, to strike the opponent, to boost speed, disrupt perception, or create special effects…
All while calculating the timing and energy composition ratios—factors that also determined whether a Black Flash could succeed.
Then there were environmental variables, the opponent's cursed output, physical traits…
Even temperature, humidity, and wind direction could influence the result.
And when fighting with full force, adding a technique into the mix made the conditions even harsher.
Through his perfect control over Cursed Energy, body, and soul, Sōjun satisfied nearly every internal requirement.
But external factors were beyond his control.
He had painstakingly eliminated every wrong answer with his technique. After years of trial and error, he was finally closing in on a breakthrough.
...
Under the large tree in the courtyard, Sōjun Minamoto threw and retracted punch after punch. Ripples of Cursed Energy flared across his fist, constantly being adjusted.
If he could pull off a single Black Flash—just once—the rest would come easily.
Unfortunately, the first time was always the hardest. He had already pushed control to its peak. All that remained was luck.
And he hated relying on luck.
His luck was notoriously awful.
...
A few more days passed in quiet training.
While developing the locust-head spatial technique, Sōjun Minamoto finally seized a glimpse of the essence of Black Flash.
He struck the air with a punch.
A wisp of black light sparked in his palm. It lasted only a moment—but it filled him with joy.
So Black Flash belonged to the domain of spatial manipulation.
He had been too close to it to see clearly.
The description had always mentioned "spatial distortion."
Sōjun had thought it referred to raw Cursed Energy fluctuations or sheer power—like heat waves distorting space.
But he'd gotten the order wrong.
You had to twist space first. Then layer in the power for explosive force.
Once that final piece clicked into place, Black Flash became effortless—at least, when hitting air, he could trigger it at will.
Next came combat trials: facing different opponents, gathering experience, cutting down calculation time, and reaching the point where his fists moved as his heart willed.