Early the next morning...
A calm, unhurried knock came at the door—gentle and without pressure, leaving a good impression.
Sōjun Minamoto had just finished refining his Cursed Energy and was settling his thoughts, returning to a peaceful state of mind.
The Fly Head went to open the door. Reflected in the mirror was a tall woman, casually leaning against the wall with a silver-white skeletal scythe resting on her shoulder.
She wore the standard support staff uniform: brown leather shoes, black slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a fitted black blazer with three neatly fastened buttons, concealing the lower half of a red tie. The look radiated calm maturity.
Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, her refined features lightly made up. With her brows arched and drawn together, she looked sharp and serious—it was Shiko Mishima.
Just like the first time they met.
The moment the door opened, she stood upright, made direct eye contact with her reflection in the mirror, and couldn't hold back a smile.
"Good morning. I'm Shiko Mishima, your dedicated assistant for today."
Sōjun Minamoto had already walked over, returning her smile. "Good morning."
"Ha~, morning!" Riko Amanai's head popped out from behind Shiko, shouting playfully.
Unfortunately for her, Sōjun Minamoto was too composed to flinch.
More people followed from either side of the doorway—Masamichi Yaga, the second-years, the first-years, Yuki Tsukumo, Iori Utahime, Mei Mei... all familiar faces.
"Your promotion assessment is set. First, exorcise a Special Grade Cursed Spirit this morning. Then this afternoon, face off against the strongest—me." Yuki Tsukumo lifted her chin, thumb pointing confidently at herself.
Among sorcerers of the same grade, humans generally surpass Cursed Spirits. So exorcising one shouldn't be too difficult, right? And if it's not difficult, jumping straight into the next Special Grade evaluation makes perfect sense, doesn't it?
The higher-ups clearly weren't giving him any time to breathe.
No one could say much—it was all technically within reason. All they could do was come to cheer him on.
They entered the living room one after another, giving Sōjun Minamoto light pats on the shoulder—or the arm, depending on height—as they passed.
Shiko Mishima came in last. She pulled out a case file, covered her mouth with a fist as she cleared her throat, and forced a serious expression onto her face.
"I'll now brief you on the mission. This is a Special Grade Cursed Spirit extermination. A Cursed Spirit has appeared at a juvenile detention center with an extremely high threat level. So far, fifteen have been seriously injured and seven are dead. We need to act fast to eliminate it..."
"Where's the location?"
"Saitama."
Cross-county, huh? Sōjun Minamoto did a quick estimate—about 25 kilometers. With no obstructions, he could probably see the site with the naked eye.
The Fly Head took off, soaring straight up. A patch of skin on the mirror surface twitched and squirmed before a starry vertical eye emerged. It climbed past the clouds, wings fluttering gently. Today's weather was clear and cloudless—the perfect vantage. The Star Eye opened and scanned northwest.
Back in the living room, the group was happily chatting.
"I swear, that Curse from yesterday—its head was growing out of its crotch!" Satoru Gojo clutched Suguru Geto's arm, laughing so hard he held his stomach. "We should've captured it for you to tame!"
"No need..." Suguru Geto replied, his body swaying from Gojo's grip.
"Check out the bag I bought the day before yesterday..."
"What's so cool about a bag? I should show you my new motorcycle."
"Let's go out for dinner and shopping sometime!"
"Got any booze?"
"Got smokes?"
"Maybe save some money instead?"
"..."
Seriously—who was the main character today?
Sōjun Minamoto brewed tea for everyone and took a seat.
"?? Aren't you supposed to be heading out?" Yuki Tsukumo frowned. "Why are you sitting down?" She reached for a teacup but recoiled, hissing, "Tch—it's too hot!"
It's the fire. I added fire to it.
Just then, The Fly Head sent back a report. Sōjun Minamoto stood up.
"Keep the tea warm. I'll be right back."
He began to gather his momentum, sharpening his focus, elevating his presence to its peak.
Activating his Cursed Energy, he shielded all the teacups. As everyone looked on in confusion, a surge of power burst from him, whipping up a strong gust that pulled their hair to one side.
Not a single teacup moved.
As the wind died down, Sōjun Minamoto vanished.
...
At the entrance of a juvenile detention center in Saitama, a black vortex suddenly opened. A figure tumbled out, steadying himself after a brief stumble.
Sōjun Minamoto.
The space jump had been too far for perfect control.
He shook out his arm, glanced around. The area was cordoned off, completely deserted.
No need for a barrier. He walked straight into the facility. The Cursed Spirit's location had already been locked. He made his way directly to it.
Standing before him was a Cursed Spirit—small in stature, not unlike a six- or seven-year-old child.
"You...who...?" its voice rasped, sharp and dry.
It could speak? Not just unconscious muttering, but a real, conscious question.
Intrigued, Sōjun Minamoto approached slowly.
The Curse tilted its head, eyes wide in childlike innocence. "Who are you?" it asked again, stepping closer and reaching out like it wanted to tug at an adult's coat.
Then—
With a jolt, its hand turned into a blade, fingers pointed like knives. It leapt up, aiming straight for Sōjun Minamoto's head.
[Jujutsu Guide, Volume 1, Page 1]: Never forget—Curses are born knowing how to deceive.
Sōjun Minamoto tilted his head slightly. The hand blade missed, cleanly.
He never saw Curses as equals. He'd never hesitated during an exorcism.
Its movements were easy to read—completely linear. From foot to leg to waist to shoulder to arm to wrist, all forming a single chain of force, tightening muscles along the way. Longer chains meant stronger output—but also much higher difficulty.
To a veteran like Sōjun Minamoto, it was child's play.
The Curse's expression twisted with shock and fury. It slashed sideways, but Sōjun Minamoto took a small step back, dodging again with ease.
Using his left leg as a pivot, he gently tapped it with his right foot. The motion was light, but the sole of his foot turned red as it made contact.
The Curse was sent flying, crimson spreading rapidly across its body. Panicking, it focused entirely on resisting the corrosion, falling into momentary paralysis.
Once it rose to the right height, Sōjun Minamoto grabbed its head—or rather, the Curse practically collided into his hand on its own.
The grip felt solid.
He slammed it into the ground, then stomped hard on its chest. The sound of bones breaking was faint, but unmistakable. The Curse let out a final wail before falling silent. Crimson seeped from its feet to cover its entire form. Just before the red reached its head, Sōjun Minamoto severed it, gripping the head while the rest of the body dissolved into black lines that wrapped around his arm.
The Cursed Energy he'd used was replenished.
Another gust of wind surged.
He was gone again.
...
Back in the living room, Sōjun Minamoto reappeared with the Curse's head in hand. He lifted his teacup and drained it in one go. Perfect temperature.
He casually tossed the head onto the table. The Curse's expression twisted pitifully, as if pleading for sympathy—but no one paid it the slightest attention.
All eyes were on Sōjun Minamoto.
That fast?!
To him, exterminating a Special Grade was just a warm-up.
Sōjun Minamoto's standards outclassed even Jujutsu High's. What the higher-ups had considered a top-tier mission?
Barely worth mentioning.
(30 Chapters Ahead)
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