"Reason, huh?"
Sōjun Minamoto grew serious.
His thoughts drifted back to his past life:
A cog in the machine, part of the endless grind of corporate life, dead before fifty from sudden cardiac arrest... Though calling it "sudden" wasn't exactly right. Deep down, he'd seen it coming.
Too many all-nighters. Too much overtime. His heart would sometimes jolt out of rhythm—sharp, stabbing pains now and then.
Heart problems were no joke. He'd sensed something was wrong back then and mentally prepared himself for the worst.
But he hadn't given it much thought. He didn't expect to live to a hundred. Seventy would've been fine—just enough to not waste all those years of paying into social security. In the end, he didn't even make it to fifty.
Expected, yet still unexpected.
Phew—
Sōjun let out a slow breath.
He looked at his hands. Long, slender fingers, clearly defined knuckles. His nails were trimmed neat and clean, with a healthy pinkish hue.
He remembered what it felt like to train:
The first time he stood on the mat, sparring with someone—blood boiling, hands trembling uncontrollably.
That kind of adrenaline response told him everything he needed to know.
You like this. There's violence in your blood.
But Sōjun didn't reject that part of himself. Because this violence—was controlled. When calm was needed, he could be still. When it was time to move, he could explode.
His ability to learn came not just from his Innate Technique, but from genuine talent.
And with that talent, he wanted to become stronger—stronger than anyone—so he could protect the people he cared about.
What he wanted was simple: no one should ever be able to force something on him that he didn't want.
With that, he let go of the past. Who he used to be no longer mattered. Who he'd become? Not something to overthink either.
He wasn't trying to be a "better version" of himself. He was going to be himself—just better at it.
Whether he was good or bad, that was for him to decide.
He lifted his chin and met Masamichi Yaga's eyes.
"I want to learn jujutsu. I want to learn how to exorcise curses. Then, I'll become the strongest—and protect the people around me."
Masamichi Yaga gave him a long, careful look, muttering almost to himself:
"The strongest... and protect, huh?"
It sounded like he was talking to Sōjun—or maybe just thinking aloud.
He didn't respond directly to the answer, nor did he linger on it. Instead, he continued smoothly.
"Alright then. Starting today, at this same time each week, I'll come teach you what it means to be a proper Jujutsu Sorcerer."
His tone softened, the pressure easing a little.
"As a sorcerer, the most important thing is Cursed Energy. Everyone has a natural limit to their reserves, but you're still young. You've got room to grow. So the first thing you need to learn is how to refine Cursed Energy."
"How do I refine it?" Sōjun asked. He hadn't been taught a method. Until now, he'd simply used Cursed Energy, let it recover naturally, and repeated the process. Over time, his reserves slowly increased on their own.
"When people experience strong emotional fluctuations, Cursed Energy gets consumed—even without casting a technique," Masamichi said. He held out his palm, and a soft strand of Cursed Energy swirled gently in his hand.
"So what you need to learn is how to manage your emotions—or more precisely, how to control your Cursed Energy even while your emotions are fluctuating, so it doesn't drain away."
"What you're trying to do is extract Cursed Energy from the smallest spark of emotion. You can even deliberately seek out emotional triggers—things that stir you—to generate a reaction."
He waved his hand and the energy vanished.
"Go on—give it a try."
Masamichi picked up his tea and began to drink, leaving Sōjun time to think and experiment.
Sōjun had been sitting on a mountain of ideas for a while now, but until today, he hadn't known where to begin. Now, with someone to guide him, the excitement was bubbling inside him.
Masamichi had explained everything clearly. The process was simple:
Stimulate emotion → generate Cursed Energy → refine Cursed Energy.
The world of jujutsu was full of curses—but none of them were truly his.
Jujutsu Sorcerers, in a sense, were self-sufficient.
Cursed Energy born from emotion would disappear if left unchecked. Only by actively extracting it could it truly become your own.
And Sōjun realized—he had already met most of the conditions.
No matter which step, the core was the same:
Control.
And when it came to control, Sōjun had that in spades. Cursed Energy bent to his will like a limb.
Emotions?
Those too were under his command.
Anyone who's taken high school biology knows—
Dopamine: if it's too low, you feel apathetic, anxious, on edge.
Adrenaline: too high, and you're irritable, quick to anger.
Serotonin: if it's lacking, you fall into depression, impulsivity.
...
There were so many pathways. Too many ways to manipulate the body's state.
But humans had evolved to be incredibly intricate. Tugging on one thread could affect the whole web. He had to proceed carefully.
He focused, and began his trial:
First, he lowered his dopamine—just to the lower end of the normal range.
He immediately felt a faint tension—not much, but enough to register. Not nearly enough to generate Cursed Energy.
Next, he tweaked other hormones, still keeping everything within normal limits.
His emotional state began to shift—irritation, agitation, a bit of sadness.
Still not enough.
Then he turned inward—to the soul.
What does a tense soul feel like? What about an angry one? A soul consumed by hate?
Could he mimic the state of emotion through the soul—and in doing so, trigger the emotion itself?
With his Innate Technique's precision, he easily performed these fine adjustments. Sure enough, working in tandem, body and soul amplified the negativity.
He found himself in a strange state—conflicting emotions swirling together, even opposites appearing at the same time. Yet he remained cold, detached, fully in control, as if observing it all from a distance.
He cranked the negativity up further.
Then—
He saw the Cursed Energy.
At first, it split: half his own, half tethered to the jujutsu system.
Then the balance tipped. All of it became his.
His Cursed Energy had grown.
...
Masamichi had been watching the entire time.
He saw Sōjun fall into thought, sit up straight... then the shift began.
Muscles tensed. Fists clenched. His face darkened.
A heavy, suffocating pressure settled over the room—like he was radiating despair.
Let the world burn. Let everyone die.
Masamichi allowed himself to be swallowed by that oppressive aura. His own emotions twisted—growing irritable, angry, hopeless.
Then, a surge of Cursed Energy erupted.
But almost instantly, it calmed—flowing smoothly, obediently, through Sōjun's body.
Masamichi clicked his tongue in amazement.
Then he looked up—and saw Sōjun still maintaining the state of refinement, his whole body tight with focus. Slowly, he lifted his head, a brooding, fierce look in his eyes.
"So... does that mean I've learned it?" he asked.
"..."