During this time, all five versions of Sōjun Minamoto were incredibly busy.
The Fly Head, after devouring a large number of its own kind, showed a slight increase in size. Sōjun immediately noticed and found it rather strange.
The potential for a Cursed Spirit's growth is set at birth—it's just a matter of how far it can go. Fly Heads, however, are born at their peak, only to weaken steadily until death.
But this one was clearly different.
Sōjun held it in his palm, observing it carefully. Through assimilation, the Fly Head had already become a part of him. He had tried enhancing its strength long ago, but since its nature hadn't changed, it remained a Fly Head, still bound by the curse's inherent frailty.
And yet now, its Cursed Energy had grown slightly.
He also noticed a sudden increase in brain development—it had gained some intelligence, enough to communicate simple ideas through gestures and even roughly understand human speech.
That genuinely surprised Sōjun—in a good way.
Change, after all, was progress.
Then Shiko Mishima showed up, fumbling to hint that it was about time she be promoted to Grade 2 Sorcerer.
"You said you'd be my sponsor," she reminded him, twirling a strand of her bangs around her finger.
Sōjun stared at her expression, inwardly exasperated. Subtle hints really weren't her thing.
He went ahead and secured her two recommendation letters. It wasn't hard—there were plenty of Grade 1 Sorcerers around: Yaga, Geto, Mei Mei, Gojo… just needed to grab one more and it was done.
Since Yaga had already given him his final nomination slot for the year, Sōjun asked Suguru Geto to be the other sponsor.
With the letters in hand, Shiko immediately ran off to complete the promotion task for Grade 2.
For years now, her Sorcerer rank had practically become an obsession. If this went well, she'd finally move beyond assistant duties—maybe even become a bounty sorcerer.
"From now on, we'll be working together in a different way," she said with a grin.
Neither of them was too concerned about the mission itself. With her close-to-Grade-1 strength, a mere Grade 2 task was hardly a challenge.
Meanwhile, Riko Amanai—somehow—ended up under his protection again.
She was a menace. Chasing after chickens and dogs—literally. Not even his bats, snakes, or hawks could escape her grasp.
There was never a quiet moment in the house.
Riko, of course, could see curses, and she was endlessly fascinated by the Cursed Spirits he had assimilated. She bombarded him with questions nonstop.
She'd even hide around corners to jump out and try to scare him.
Sōjun had zero interest in these childish games.
So every time, just before she leapt out, he'd silently slip on his ghostly white mask—then greet her with a surprise.
Kukuku~
"Look at him! He scared me again!" she'd whine dramatically to Masamichi Yaga.
To be fair, her instincts weren't bad. She knew very few people could rein in Sōjun—and Yaga was one of the few who barely counted.
"You're fifteen already. Can you please stop being so childish?" Yaga sighed, rubbing his forehead as he looked at the two of them.
That, of course, made Riko panic.
"What?! He's fifteen? Only a year older than me?!"
She didn't catch the subtext in Yaga's words at all.
...
On Tengen's side—
Sōjun had been visiting the Tombs of the Star more frequently, working with Tengen to explore how self-awareness might be preserved.
He had a firm understanding of his own soul, but when it came to others', not so much.
The Barrier Technique had been Tengen's idea, but its actual implementation needed to be fleshed out between the two of them. Tengen hadn't made much progress over the centuries, so Sōjun was essentially starting from scratch.
"How exactly does evolution happen?"
"What changes come afterward—good or bad?"
Sōjun was also curious about Tengen's immortality technique.
He's immortal, but still ages—and aging eventually leads to death. When that aging reaches a certain point, the technique triggers evolution—
But does it suppress aging?
Or break free from it entirely?
Humans generally live around a hundred years, but Tengen had survived for millennia, merging with a Star Plasma Vessel every 500 years... So does that mean he goes through a 500-year aging cycle?
Why?
Had Tengen ever evolved at all?
Sōjun figured he must've...
To be honest, he'd been itching to examine the guy's body, but Tengen was always cautious and refused to let him get too close.
So all Sōjun could do was speculate.
Thinking in more familiar terms, humans are made of cells, and within each cell is a biological clock—telomeres. Their job is to protect chromosomes and regulate cell division. As cells divide, telomeres shorten. Older cells have shorter telomeres; younger ones, longer. When telomeres wear down too much, aging accelerates—and the cell nears death.
One thing is certain: humans can't stop telomere loss.
But what if Tengen's technique slows down that rate?
Or replenishes the lost telomeres?
Typically, a human cell loses 50–200 base pairs of telomeres each division, and can divide about 50 times—hence a lifespan of around 100 years. But if each division only used up 5 base pairs, a cell could divide 500 times, extending life to a thousand years...
Sōjun paused, then burst out laughing.
Science? In the Jujutsu world?
He'd forgotten how absurd this place could be. Some techniques simply defied reason—like immortality.
He readjusted his mindset.
To him, Tengen's immortality technique seemed weak. It granted eternal life but no strength. His only real asset was his millennia of Barrier expertise.
Naturally, all of Tengen's proposed solutions revolved around Barriers.
Sōjun couldn't help but think of that Arctic clam called "Ming," which lived for 507 years. When scientists pried open its shell for study, it started to die...
Long-lived but fragile.
Tengen wasn't so different—just traded the shell for a Barrier.
"Are you thinking something disrespectful?" Tengen suddenly asked.
Before Sōjun could answer, Tengen turned and fetched a pristine scroll from the inner chamber.
"This is a collection of my insights on Barrier Techniques. Take a look. We'll continue the discussion tomorrow."
Here we go again...
Sōjun accepted the scroll.
Over time, he'd realized Tengen was deeply insecure.
He hadn't left the Tombs of the Star in who knows how long. They never worked together for more than four hours a day. It was incredibly hard for anyone to see him—Sōjun himself had only been granted access after a lengthy period of observation.
The longer you live, the more afraid of death you become?
Sōjun exited the Tombs, took the elevator back up to the surface.
Warm sunlight bathed him, and it felt... nice.
Yeah. People should live under the sun.
Without lingering, he walked away.