Chapter 3 – Jujutsu High
"Jujutsu High, officially known as the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical School, is one of only two institutions in Japan dedicated to jujutsu education. On the surface, it poses as a private religious school. Many jujutsu sorcerers start their careers here—even after graduation, they continue working out of this place. It's not just for teaching; it's a central hub for missions, support, and operations in the jujutsu world."
Tatsuro listened as Gojo Satoru explained, taking in the serene, tree-filled surroundings of Jujutsu High. The air was clean and fresh, a sharp contrast to his earlier panic. It soothed his mind and body.
As for Maki Zenin, who had led him there, she had already left. Gojo had taken over the formalities.
"Anyway, you'll need to meet the principal next. There's a chance you might be rejected, so do your best!"
"What?!"
Tatsuro stared at the towering Gojo in shock. "There's a test? I can't even control my cursed energy yet. What if I get expelled?"
Gojo replied, "It's not a cursed energy test, don't worry—unless your personality is completely twisted."
"…"
Tatsuro was speechless. "Twisted personality...? That sounds kinda personal."
Gojo grinned, "Come on, just saying you're different. I read your file: Tatsuro, 15 years old. Frequently skips class, average grades, extremely dependent on your parents, and no lineage of jujutsu sorcerers."
"And?"
Gojo shrugged. "Honestly, I expected you to shut yourself in for weeks or months to process everything. Didn't think you'd call me this soon."
"…"
After a moment of silence, Tatsuro said, "Maybe… I am a little twisted. But that doesn't matter. I'm not the same person I used to be."
"Good awareness."
Gojo leaned in and stared deeply into his eyes, confirming he was serious. Then he pushed open a black wooden door and led Tatsuro into a spacious room.
The room was spotless. At the center, a burly man with spiky black hair and sunglasses was sewing a doll with a needle and thread.
Without looking up, he asked, "This the student you mentioned, Gojo?"
"Yep! Ran into him while out for late-night snacks. I thought he'd come a month later, but he called today. Seems like a good seed."
Gojo beamed proudly as he glanced at Tatsuro.
"Hello, I'm Tatsuro. I came to learn jujutsu," Tatsuro said, bowing at a 45-degree angle without hesitation.
The man tied off the thread on the now-finished doll, cut it, and finally looked up at Tatsuro. "Learning about curses, learning how to exorcise them—why?"
"Of course to exorcise them. And maybe study medicine or open a restaurant later. After seeing curses firsthand, I understand how dangerous this world is. If I don't learn how to fight them, I'm just waiting to die—or worse, watch loved ones die. That's more painful than anything."
"Hmm. Good reason," the man said as he stood, flexing the hand that had just been sewing. "Now to test your resolve. The easiest way—put you near death. Ready!?"
"Hey, wait! Didn't you say this wasn't a combat test?!"
Tatsuro waved his hands frantically, backing away and shooting Gojo a look that screamed: Help me! I don't fight!
Gojo stuck out his tongue and backed away two steps. "It's not a cursed energy test, I promise. Just a resolve test. Might hurt for a couple of days, max."
A couple of days?!
"…"
"'No big deal'—easy for you to say! You're not the one getting beat up!"
Before he could finish protesting, a stuffed doll suddenly smacked him square in the face. If one looked closely, it was the very doll the principal had just finished sewing!
Despite looking soft, its fist hit with the weight of a grown man, slamming into Tatsuro's chest with full force.
Fast!
As he flew backward, Tatsuro mentally retraced the doll's rapid attack pattern and the crushing force behind its strike. After rolling across the floor, he sprang to his feet—but the doll was nowhere to be seen. His heart pounded.
That hit hurt. Thankfully, this body had some physical conditioning. His old one might've crumpled on the spot.
His pulse raced like a war drum. Adrenaline flooded his veins. He clenched his fists—he wouldn't just sit there and take it.
The doll, now resembling a river demon with a green body, didn't rush in. Instead, it swaggered in with its fists raised like a boxer, provoking him. It was taunting him.
"…"
Tatsuro's expression darkened as veins popped on his forehead. He'd just been mocked… by a doll. No way he'd let that slide.
Still, he didn't charge. He held his stance, waiting for the doll to move.
Then, the principal asked, "If your comrades were in mortal danger, would you risk your life to save them, or abandon them to survive alone?"
"Huh?!"
Tatsuro was momentarily distracted—and in that instant, the doll vanished and reappeared to land a punch on his shoulder. The pain contorted his face.
That cheap trick!
The principal ignored his suffering and repeated the question: "If your comrades were in danger, would you protect them or leave them to die?"
Tatsuro curled up, guarding his head as the doll rained down punches. He wasn't even listening to the question anymore. All he could think about was how to destroy this damn thing.
Then something strange happened.
Driven by hatred, the cursed energy in his body surged toward his eyes. The world around him began to slow down.
He could see the doll's entire attack trajectory crystal-clear—he could even predict its next move.
It was like time stretched: one second to the world, but five seconds to him. He had space to think.
Amazing.
Now that he could anticipate the attack pattern, Tatsuro dodged easily, grabbed the doll by the head with his left hand, and slammed it into the ground.
His long-suppressed rage exploded. He balled his right fist and pummeled the doll's body.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Heavy thuds echoed in the hall.
Gojo, seeing the crimson glow in Tatsuro's eyes, smiled with satisfaction.
The principal also noticed something unusual and asked again, "If your comrades were in danger, would you protect them or let them die?"
"You talk too much! If we're all gonna die anyway, might as well take someone down with me!"
Now holding the doll's torn thread, Tatsuro looked at its shredded body—white stuffing spilling out.
"Very good!"
The principal smiled. "You pass. Welcome to Jujutsu High."