"My name is Rika Orimoto. Thank you so much for saving me."
"And I am Yuta Okkotsu. Thank you for protecting Rika."
Inside the brightly lit fast-food restaurant, the two children stood side by side, bowing deeply toward Souma Gojo. Their gratitude was sincere and touching. If they weren't clutching each other's hands with such innocent devotion, Souma might have enjoyed the moment more. Instead, even the taro pie in his hand seemed to reek of the "stench of young love," a scent he found utterly distasteful. He set the snack down with a look of feigned annoyance.
"You are quite welcome. After all, we are distant relatives, Yuta."
"Distant relatives?" Yuta blinked, looking confused. He stared at Souma's striking white hair and sharp, crystalline blue eyes. This man looked like a walking masterpiece of foreign ancestry. When did he ever have a relative like this?
"Gojo," Souma said, pointing to himself. "My surname is Gojo. I assume your parents have mentioned the name before?"
Yuta paused, searching his memory. His father had indeed spoken of that name in hushed, respectful tones, usually referring to some legendary financial conglomerate or a noble house of immense antiquity.
"The Gojo clan and the Okkotsu clan are both descended from the bloodline of Sugawara no Michizane," Souma explained, leaning back in his plastic chair. "The connection is distant by several generations, but blood is blood. We are kin."
"Sugawara no Michizane?" Yuta repeated, the name sounding like something out of a dry history textbook.
"Indeed. One of the Four Great Vengeful Spirits of ancient Japan. It is quite a farce, really. The Three Great Families of the modern jujutsu world are all descendants of monsters. The Zenin clan's ultimate shadow, Mahoraga, traces its roots back to the spirit Taira no Masakado. The Kamo clan's blood manipulation comes from Emperor Sutoku. We are the children of vengeful ghosts, yet here we are, making a living by exorcising spirits. It is a delicious bit of irony, don't you think?"
Yuta and Rika stared at him, completely lost. To them, Souma sounded like he was reciting a bizarre, occult poem.
"Those are just legends, aren't they?" Yuta scratched his head, feeling awkward.
Souma chuckled, glancing around the restaurant. "Let me see... not in here. Wait for me a moment."
He stood up and strolled out of the restaurant. For a second, Yuta and Rika wondered if he had simply decided to dine and dash. However, two minutes later, Souma returned. He held his arm out at a strange angle, his hand closed as if he were gripping something heavy, yet to everyone else in the shop, he was merely clutching thin air.
"Look at this," Souma said, thrusting his closed fist toward Yuta's face.
"AH!" Yuta recoiled, letting out a sharp cry of terror. His sudden outburst drew curious and annoyed glances from the other patrons.
Rika looked at Yuta in confusion. "Yuta? What's wrong? Why are you so scared?"
Yuta pointed a trembling finger at Souma's hand. "The... the monster!"
"Monster?" Rika looked again, but in her eyes, Souma was just holding his hand in a weird claw shape.
Souma grinned, a sharp and predatory expression. "This thing is called a Cursed Spirit. It is a creature born from the pooled negative emotions of humanity. Only those with jujutsu talent can perceive them. In this entire building, only you and I can see it. To everyone else, including Rika, it doesn't exist."
"A curse?"
"It seems your family hasn't bothered with your education at all," Souma said with a sigh. "Let me give you a crash course. Listen closely."
What followed was an exhaustive explanation of the hidden world, the nature of cursed energy, and the heavy burden of the "Gifted." Rika listened with wide-eyed wonder as if she were hearing a fairy tale, while Yuta's face grew increasingly pale. He couldn't deny the truth when the grotesque, squirming thing in Souma's hand was right in front of his nose, radiating a cold, oily sensation he now knew was "cursed energy."
"So, you are..."
"Exactly," Souma said, closing his fist with a sudden, violent crunch. The curse vanished into a cloud of black smoke that only Yuta saw. "I am a sorcerer. Think of us as a specialized group that protects humanity from these things. You have potential, Yuta. Immense, terrifying potential. That is why I want to take you as my disciple. What do you say?"
Yuta fell silent. To an elementary schooler, having a stranger tell you the world is full of monsters and inviting you to join a secret war for peace sounded like a symptom of a mental breakdown.
"I... I should go home and ask my mom and dad..."
Souma nodded, pulling out his phone. "Hold on. Let me just call the head of the Okkotsu house and settle this."
A few minutes later, Yuta held the phone to his ear, his eyes widening in shock. On the other end, his parents weren't just agreeing: they were practically begging him to accept. A Special Grade sorcerer? To the common person, the title meant little, but to those who knew the hierarchy of the hidden world, Souma Gojo held a status equivalent to a national defense minister.
"But Rika... I don't want to be away from Rika," Yuta muttered, looking at the girl.
"The school you two attend? I already bought it this morning," Souma said casually.
Yuta's small brain struggled to process the sheer scale of the Gojo clan's wealth. Buying an entire school just to keep a disciple close? This was a level of power he couldn't comprehend.
"Then... okay," Yuta finally whispered.
Souma flashed a bright, beaming smile. For some reason, that smile made a cold shiver run down Yuta's spine, making him instantly regret his decision.
"Excellent, Yuta! From this day forward, I am your teacher. Together, we shall experience the burning passion of youth!"
"..."