The negotiations ended on a sour note.
After that, the higher-ups suddenly quieted down.
Sōjun Minamoto's choice to act wasn't some heat-of-the-moment decision. Back at the pagoda, he'd already noticed the internal divisions—clearly more than one faction was at play. Add to that the solid support behind him: Masamichi Yaga, a candidate for principal and one of the top brass, and Satoru Gojo, head of the Gojo Clan—one of the three major families—both had made their stance clear.
More importantly, Sōjun Minamoto's own strength wasn't something they could casually challenge.
To forge iron, you must be strong yourself.
In the Jujutsu world, power is everything. The higher-ups had come to a reluctant realization: they couldn't do much about Sōjun Minamoto. Not because he was invincible, but because the cost of going against him wasn't worth it. In the end, they backed off.
A few days later, his appointment letter arrived. The terms were generous. Alongside it came the notification for Shiko Mishima's transfer approval.
Now this was what you'd call a win-win.
He never understood why the weak should rule the strong. Once you gain power, the last thing you want is people jumping around you, barking orders, acting like they're in charge. On the path to strength, who has time for petty interference? The only way to deal with it is to scare them once, hard enough that they hesitate the next time—wondering if they can afford the consequences of provoking you.
That saves a lot of trouble in the long run.
He'd even considered finishing the job altogether—cut them all off at once so they wouldn't keep crawling back. But in the end, he didn't have the heart to keep stomping ants. People all have ties that hold them back. Without them, you'd drift aimlessly like a kite with a snapped string.
"I told you to be patient, not to act on impulse. Look at you—no sooner did I leave than you made a move. And such a big one, too. I'd like to see how you plan to clean this up." Masamichi Yaga paced the room, furious and exasperated.
Lately, stuck between the higher-ups and this guy, he felt like he'd aged decades.
He was part of the higher-ups himself—he knew what kind of people they were. But he also knew Sōjun Minamoto. The guy did whatever he pleased, with zero... reverence?
Yes, that was it. No sense of reverence at all. It was bound to land him in trouble eventually.
Suddenly, Yaga thought of Suguru Geto. That guy was serious, disciplined, always by the book.
If only these two could blend their personalities...
He sighed to himself.
"Call your parents!" Masamichi Yaga snapped in frustration. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
"Call them yourself," Sōjun Minamoto replied without a care.
Yaga was speechless. Of course, this was all too familiar. He thought of his own sister and felt a pang of sympathy...
"I've officially become a bounty sorcerer!" came Shiko Mishima's voice from afar.
Her voice arrived before she did.
She burst into the living room, face glowing with excitement. She spun around Sōjun Minamoto a few times, then gave him a quick hug—only then noticing Masamichi Yaga nearby. She quickly greeted him.
"Sensei!"
She, too, called Yaga "Sensei."
He gave a nod in response.
Shiko Mishima was genuinely overjoyed—so much that she'd rushed over just to share the moment. Everyone else in the room knew why her transfer had been approved so suddenly.
Sōjun Minamoto smiled and congratulated her.
Yaga, too, felt a small weight lift off his shoulders.
The two didn't say anything more—and that was just fine.
...
A few days later, Sōjun Minamoto officially joined the Medical Department.
He put on a crisp, new white lab coat, the standard attire for medical staff. A pair of plain glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, softening the sharp, hawk-like intensity in his eyes and highlighting a calm, composed, and refined presence. Any patient seeing him for the first time would instinctively feel at ease and more willing to trust him.
He arrived at the headquarters of the Jujutsu High Medical Department. The building had a distinctly modern feel—bright, clean white walls and the faint scent of disinfectant in the air. It wasn't overpowering, just enough to make one feel like even their inner dust was being quietly swept away.
"You're here!" Riko Amanai was the first to run into him, clearly delighted.
Her cursed energy refinement had been off lately—probably because he hadn't been around to watch over her.
"That big white tree," she dashed up to him in quick steps, pointing at the lush canopy in the distance. "Teach me, teach me! I want to learn that technique!"
She had a soft spot for anything beautiful and ornate.
"Do you know why it's white?" Sōjun Minamoto asked in return.
"Why?"
"What color are human bones?" he asked again.
"White... white?!" A realization began to dawn on her.
Sōjun Minamoto stepped behind her, his tone dropping as his voice grew low and steady.
"Compress bones—enough to stack a dozen stories high—into a single point, and feed that to a person..."
His gaze lingered on the pale skin at the nape of her neck, the fine hairs clearly visible. His face dipped into shadow as he leaned in, murmuring softly into her ear:
"Once swallowed, the seed takes root and sprouts. First, it tears through the stomach and intestines, then fills the abdominal cavity. It wants to keep growing—but lacks nutrients. So, what happens next? Its roots begin to dig deeper and deeper, burrowing into every crevice. They anchor into the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, kidneys... devouring flesh, soul, and curse alike. When there's nothing left, the branches and trunk pierce through the remaining scraps of skin and tissue and then..."
His hand brushed lightly over the fine hairs standing on her neck. He slowly brought his hand around in front of her. Her eyes followed, fixed on his fist as it gradually unfurled in a blooming gesture.
Gulp.
The skin on her throat moved slightly. She could almost feel a phantom ache in her organs.
"And then—whoosh!"
Riko Amanai stiffly turned to look at him and saw Sōjun Minamoto staring back at her, eyes wide, his expression unreadable...
"Waaah!!"
"And just like that," he laughed, "you've got a towering tree."
"Hahaha!" Sōjun Minamoto burst out laughing.
Riko Amanai stood frozen, fists clenched tight.
See? Having him around really did help with cursed energy refinement!
...
"Didn't you say you didn't want to work in the Medical Department?" Shoko Ieiri walked over. As a senior, it was her job to help guide the newcomers.
Seeing Sōjun Minamoto in a white lab coat and rimless glasses, with a completely different look from before, she was a little surprised. After all, he'd stirred up quite a commotion recently. You could still see the massive white bone tree out there. But dressed like this, he looked completely prepared.
"Why wouldn't I?" he said with a gentle smile. "I've always been interested in saving lives."
That smile gave Shoko Ieiri a sense of camaraderie—like fellow healers who shared the same purpose.
He probably won't have any trouble connecting with patients, she thought.
Sōjun Minamoto wasn't especially interested in treating sorcerers, but techniques? That was another story. The Medical Department didn't just see the injured—it also dealt with curses awaiting research.
Rare cursed spirits, the kind hardly seen in the wild, often appeared here first. They were analyzed piece by piece, thoroughly documented. That way, the next time something similar emerged, it could be dealt with swiftly and efficiently.
Being a doctor didn't just mean healing sorcerers—it meant healing the world from curses.
Sōjun Minamoto had wanted in on this for a long time. Where else could you find a place like this? Abundant resources, plenty of test subjects, and no contradiction between healing the injured and studying curses.