"What's this?"
Masamichi Yaga wrapped up the week's lesson and handed Sōjun Minamoto a notebook.
"Read it yourself," he said, walking off without a glance back.
Sōjun Minamoto opened the blank cover. On the title page were two handwritten lines:
[New Edition Standard for Learning Basic Cursed Techniques (Beginner – Part 1)], published by Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.
It was definitely handwritten!
He flipped through the book carefully. Most of it covered foundational knowledge about the Jujutsu World. The rest was entry-level, living up to the name "Beginner."
These days, Sōjun Minamoto's schedule was packed.
He'd already finished compulsory education and dove straight into high school material. At this pace, he'd finish it all in about six months.
His studies in human biology were also on track—cytology, neuromuscular science, nutrition, acupuncture points, brain and hormone dynamics, ketone bodies and endocrine systems... the list of theories was endless.
Still, everything was proceeding with a clear plan and steady practice.
His martial arts training now relied mostly on personal effort. He rarely sought out instructors anymore—he'd already exhausted that entire circle.
Sōjun Minamoto remained constant; the coaches came and went.
By now, he didn't need to cling to specific techniques. With perfect control in hand, nothing was off-limits.
He was exploring what suited his body best—what generated the most power, how to optimize techniques based on his build and height...
He was forging his own martial arts path, moving with ease and confidence.
Most of his time, though, was spent on studying Cursed Techniques.
His Cursed Energy growth was slow. Though he'd learned how to refine it, he couldn't overtrain it.
Balancing the soul and body, allowing emotional fluctuations without letting them cause mental strain—he was still working through that delicate equilibrium.
A fixed practice time each day was enough. Discipline was key, and keeping his mood up was crucial—otherwise, a breakdown would be tough to recover from.
His current goal was to promote full development of body, soul, and Cursed Energy—reach his limit and maintain that peak state.
He had already started intervening.
Lately, he'd been experimenting: getting enough sleep to stimulate growth hormone, regulating digestion to absorb nutrients faster, exercising strategically to encourage bone growth...
Every move was cautious, calculated to avoid side effects.
A ten-year-old's physical limits weren't the same as those of an eighteen-year-old.
Full development was critical. Most of his ideas hinged on that foundation.
Still, the body's balancing mechanism limited him. His physical growth had turned into a battlefield against it. It wasn't that he couldn't speed things up—it just wasn't much.
At its peak, the gap between his growth and actual age was six years. Now it had closed to three.
With more experience, he figured he could start messing with that balancing mechanism.
Physical development – maturity – aging.
He'd speed up the first half, slow down the second. He didn't really care about aging—it was the rebellion that mattered.
You picked this fight, balance mechanism. I've got control now. Not even Jesus can stop me.
The balance mechanism of sex.
As for his technique development—
From bones to blood, to meridians, muscles, and skin.
Through the body's major circulatory systems: nourishing the marrow, purifying the blood, strengthening fascia, building muscle, refining skin.
Five senses, reflexes, speed, strength, constitution—his physical capabilities were rapidly improving.
His soul remained pure, reinforcing its essence and anchoring his body. The supernatural side hadn't shown much yet...
But its benefits were clear—photographic memory, iron will, powerful spirit.
Four hours of sleep was enough to recharge.
More time to study!
...
Masamichi Yaga finished another week's lesson and handed over a new notebook.
Then, as always, he walked away without turning back.
[New Edition Standard for Learning Basic Cursed Techniques (Intermediate)], published by Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.
"..."
Sōjun Minamoto sat cross-legged on a futon cushion. The flesh on his back rippled and writhed.
He held his breath, fully focused, silently channeling strength.
Now and then, a large bump would rise under his skin, then quickly flatten again.
Something was trying to burst out.
A slick, squelching sound—like pulling a foot from sticky mud—echoed faintly.
Blood and flesh surged from his back. Amid the movement, an arm began to take shape, coated in thick gore, a few blood vessels dangling messily between the fingers.
It was grotesque.
He willed the arm to steady itself. The flesh and blood receded beneath his skin, leaving the limb clean and smooth.
He clenched and relaxed his fist a few times. His muscles expanded and contracted naturally.
Defined lines rippled beneath the skin—like bundles of steel cables, exuding raw strength and natural grace, as though sculpted by nature.
Sōjun Minamoto rested his hands on the table like an attentive student in class. From behind, the new arm stiffly picked up a pen and began recording experiment notes in his notebook.
"Nice. Let's call you the Third Hand."
The arm gave a thumbs-up. Its movements were getting smoother, no different from his other two arms.
A playful mood struck. He waved the Third Hand wildly, trying all sorts of motions. Without meaning to, he slammed it into the table, punching a hole straight through it.
Smashing and piercing are very different—the latter showed far greater power.
He held paper in his left hand, a pen in his right. The Third Hand performed weightlifting and deadlifts.
After some tests, he jotted down: [Strength: Grade 3]
The arm began morphing again.
The right palm extended into a sharp spike. He jabbed it into the table—easily piercing through without resistance.
Then, the forearm transformed into a scythe-like blade, slicing through air with shrill screeches.
With a blink, Sōjun Minamoto had sheared off all four table corners.
He recorded:
[Hardness: Grade 4]
[Sharpness: Grade 3]
[Free Transformation: Grade 3]
He stopped controlling the Third Hand and let it hang loose.
Eyes opened one by one along its surface, each gazing in a different direction, blinking out of sync. Some pupils trembled nonstop, their expressions vacant and mad.
His sanity points plummeted!
After about a minute, the eyes shut one after another. The arm faded—half dissipating into black mist, the other half drawing back into his body.
He summarized his findings:
The structure was made of Cursed Energy and flesh, defaulting to a 50-50 split. But the ratio could be adjusted for different effects.
Right now, his power was at the peak of Grade 4, close to Grade 3. By cursed spirit standards, he could easily handle a typical Grade 3.
...
"Here," Masamichi Yaga said, handing over another notebook.
Sōjun Minamoto opened the cover. As expected:
[New Edition Standard for Learning Basic Cursed Techniques (Advanced)], published by Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.
The content was getting richer—covering common techniques, Cursed Spirits, Cursed Tools, Barrier Techniques—and diving deeper into their mechanics.
They came every six months on average. This was the third. At Sōjun Minamoto's learning pace, it felt painfully slow.
"Can't you just give me the whole set at once?" he asked.
"No. This pace is the most suitable," Masamichi Yaga replied, shutting it down.
"Or... is it because the next one isn't written yet?" he asked, testing the waters.
Yaga gave him a side glance and changed the subject.
"You're almost at Grade 3, right?"
Answering a question with a question—how rude!
Sōjun Minamoto nodded.
"Good. Soon, I'll take you to experience the real life of a Jujutsu Sorcerer."