As the cursed spirit lunged, its metallic claws slicing through the air where her head had been a microsecond before, Rumi didn't just dodge, she flowed. Her body, a coiled spring of muscle and instinct as the momentum Rumi created she drove a fist into the side of its skull.
The impact wasn't a dull thud, it was a sickening CRACK of its metallic bone meeting a force that can make a person head into paste.
The spirit was launched like a cannonball, tearing through a wooden fence and vanishing into the side of a nearby house with a crash of splintering wood, old glass and crumbling drywall.
Silence descended for a moment, then a new sound erupted from the hole in the house and it was a man's startled yelp.
Rumi use her advanced vision, pierced the darkness of the shattered homebthat carried a faint light of the cursed spirit chest.
a man in his thirties is frozen in the pathetic tableau of his interrupted solitude, a flashlight in one hand, a well-used dirty magazine in the other, tissues and lotion standing on the bedside table.
His wide, confused eyes met the hollow sockets of the curse for a split second before its skeletal tail, stab through his chest.
The life was drained from him in seconds. His skin pulled taut over his skeleton, his body shriveling into a desiccated husk before her eyes. The curse absorbed him, and the metallic sheen on its tail deepened, turning from dark grey to an oily, absolute black like one piece armament haki.
"Talk about dedication," Rumi muttered, with some sarcasm in her voice as the curse crawled from the wreckage. "A blackout won't stop a gooner from a mission to beat his meat. Died before he could start, a terrible way to go out."
The cursed spirit, of course, didn't understand the term 'gooner.' It only understood hunger and power.
With a contemptuous flick of its tail, it hurled the brittle, dried-out corpse at her like a sack of kindling.
Rumi simply sidestepped and the husk hit the pavement with a sound like a bage of rice untill dissolving into dust and bone fragments.
"Careful, I don't want the pain killers in this bag get touched by this guy's dust that could be his dick or balls."
Rumi shouted at the cursed spirit but it didn't matter what her words say, cause the spirit's jaw unhinged.
The crackling smog of static and lightning that coiled around its body surged inward, pouring into its gaping maw. The air hummed, some of the wood is burning which Rumi's nostrils picked up as the energy condensed into a violently spitting orb of raw lightning, the size of a basketball.
It unleashed the attack that screamed through the air, destined to erase her in a blast of incinerating energy.
Rumi just leapt to the air. Her powerful legs launched her not away from the blast, but on a diagonal intercept course toward the curse itself. The lightning ball shot past beneath her, detonating against the street with a thunderous BOOM. The concussive forcewave rattled windows for a block, and the 10-meter radius was scorched black, asphalt melting into tar.
The cursed spirit had predicted this. It knew enemies would either flee or attack from it, As Rumi closed the distance, a blur of white hair and lethal intent, the spirit whipped its newly hardened tail around in a vicious, precise counter-thrust, aiming to impale her mid-air.
SHIIING!
The sound wasn't of tearing flesh, but of metal screeching against impossibly reinforced metal.
The tail which had just effortlessly pierced many people stopped dead against Rumi's abdomen but only puncture her school shirt.
A fierce grin split Rumi's face as she saw the cursed spirit reaction and reason why it couldn't stab her easily was easy to explain.
Cursed energy Reinforcement.
Reinforcement is one of the basic application of cursed energy, something she'd figured out through brute-force, trial and error by herself.
She might not have the finesse of a trained sorcerer and her control was clunky, wasteful, using lot of energy like how water was poured to a cup only to get overflowed and the remaining water is wasted.
But that doesn't mattered to Rumi because she has a shit ton of cursed energy to use for fighting and defending herself, Why be efficient when you could be absolute?
She had the physical prowess of Toji Zenin, a body honed to perfection. Layering that with a fortress of raw cursed energy was just being thorough. Also Rumi wasn't about to let some drained gooner's blood in her system.
She without a moment's pause the muscles in her legs bulged as its visible to her pants.
Cursed energy flared around her leg engulfed into black and blue flames for a devastating axe kick.
The kick connected with the curse's head, driving it down through the already ruined foundation of the house. The structure groaned in protest before succumbing, the roof collapsing inward with a final, deafening roar of shattered timber and shattered the side walk concrete.
Rumi landed lightly a few feet back, her rabbit ears twitching, filtering the sounds of settling rubble. Her crimson eyes fixed on the wreckage that used to be a house, she still senses
"Hope this house wasn't a rental where that guy's parents were paying it with their hard work money to support him."
Rumi muttered to herself, remembering an anime she watched from her previous life how the main character before his isekai was a fat bastard and his parents trying their best to help him by having a apartment and pay the rent.
Which he doesn't bother getting himself a job and stay in the apartment like a selfish pervert he is. Never going to his parents funeral and gets kicked out by his other family members.
"Good job dealing with that curse, but your reinforcement was sloppy. Seriously wasteful."
The voice came from behind her, light and teasing, yet it carried an undeniable weight of authority. It was a voice that didn't belong in the dust-choked, post-battle silence of a residential street.
Rumi's body tensed, her rabbit ears twitching as they pinpointed the source. She turned slowly, her crimson eyes narrowing.
Leaning against a miraculously untouched lamppost was a man she recognized instantly. Tall, lanky, shockingly white hair, and a blindfold covering his eyes. He was casually holding a crepe ice cream roll with strawberry syrup.
Satoru Gojo. The strongest sorcerer of the modern era and suppose honored one.
"Who are you," she said, her voice flat and deliberately unimpressed already knows who he is but pretends to not know him, "Are you with that freak show creature that attacked me?"
Gojo took a bite of his ice cream, unfazed. "Nope! I'm not a type of guy who stalks girls like creeps, I'm more of a... concerned citizen. A talent scout, let's say. And that thing was just attracted to the massive bonfire of energy you were using to redecorate the neighborhood."
He gestured with his ice cream toward the destroyed house. "Speaking of which, you have owe the damages to that destroyed house. Though, given how people can't have a recording on their camera from this blackout you're safe to not pay the damages."
Before Rumi could retort, a low hum built into a deafening shriek of energy.
*KRA-KOOOM!*
The rubble of the house exploded outward in a storm of concrete and splinters. From the heart of the devastation, the cursed spirit crawled out, its form crackling with renewed fury.
The smog around its body had intensified, arcing with violent, desperate bolts of lightning that earthing themselves into the ground. Its six claws scraped against the asphalt, and with a final, piercing shriek of static, it launched itself.
It ignored Gojo completely, its hollow gaze locked on Rumi. It became a living comet, engulfing its entire body in a suicidal shell of concentrated lightning, aiming to crash into her and detonate everything it had left.
Rumi was about to attack until Gojo steps between her and the incoming cursed spirit.
"Hold this for me, would you? It's the good kind," he said, his tone as casual as if he were asking her to hold his coffee. He shoved the half-eaten crepe ice cream roll into her hand.
The world seemed to slow. The blazing curse was meters away.
He simply raised his right hand, index finger pointed loosely at the approaching storm of bone and lightning.
A tiny, impossibly dense orb of swirling red energy manifested at the tip of his finger. The air around it warped, humming with catastrophic power.
Gojo said one word that was quiet and clear.
"Red."
The orb of red energy propelled itself and hit the cursed spirit causing it the spirit to hurled into the sky, a speck against the night, and then.
FWOOM!
The conflicting energies of the curse's lightning and the violent expansion of Red collapsed in on themselves that exploded.
A sphere of blinding white light bloomed silently over Yotsuya, for one second turning night into day. The silent flash was followed a heartbeat later by a thunderclap that rattled windows for a kilometer in every direction.
A few flakes of dissolving, scorched bone dust drifted down like black snow. The oppressive, staticky presence of the cursed spirit was gone, leaving only the quiet chaos of the destroyed street.
Gojo turned back to Rumi, a wide, infuriating grin spreading across his face beneath the blindfold. He plucked his ice cream crepe from her stunned hand.
"Thanks for watching my snack." He took a deliberate bite, chewing thoughtfully as if he hadn't just rewritten local physics. "Ah! I forgot to explain everything that just happened. Manners, manners. First, let me introduce myself properly."
He struck a casual pose, thumb pointing at his chest. "The name's Gojo Satoru. Head of the Gojo Clan, and the strongest jujutsu sorcerer alive. You can just call me Gojo-sensei, though. I've got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Rumi already knew all of this, of course. Every word was a known quantity from a life spent reading his story. But she played her part, her face a mask of wary confusion mixed with a healthy dose of skepticism. She crossed her arms, the plastic bag of painkillers swinging from her wrist.
"Okay. Nice to meet you, I guess," she said, her tone flat. "But why are you here? And what was that thing?"
"Right to the point! I like that." Gojo pointed his ice cream at her like a lecturer with a pointer stick. "Well, you see, I was hunting down that... thing. The skeleton if a spider and serpent were mixed with human bones. The one you just had a scrap with. Nasty piece of work, right? It was also responsible for the little massacre at that business company yesterday."
He said it so casually, as if discussing the weather. Rumi didn't need to fake the slight grimace at the reminder.
"And as for why I'm here with you," he continued, his grin turning a fraction more knowing, "it's because of what I said before. That thing was attracted to the energy you were using. That power you wrapped around yourself to stop its pointy tail?"
He took a final bite of his crepe and vanished the stick with a flick of his wrist.
"That raw, crazy-strong power you've got bubbling inside you? It's called Cursed Energy. And that thing you fought? That's a Cursed Spirit. They're born from negative human emotions—fear, regret, hatred—and they feed on it. And they really, really love to snack on people who are bursting with tasty Cursed Energy like you are."
He leaned forward, his head tilting. Even with the blindfold, she could feel the weight of his gaze, the Six Eyes analyzing every micro-expression, every fluctuation of the immense energy she held within.
"Most people can't see them. They just feel a sense of dread, or have a bad day, or sometimes... they just die for no reason anyone can explain. But you? You can see them. You can fight them. And from the looks of it, you've been doing it for a while without even knowing what they are."
He straightened up, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "So, Rumi Usagiyama. Now that you know the score... got any questions for your new favorite sensei?"
Rumi didn't miss a beat. Her crimson eyes narrowed, utterly unimpressed by his title or his theatrics. "First off, I'm not gonna call you 'sensei.' I just met you, and you're already giving me a headache. Second," she held up the plastic bag of painkillers, "I'm not going anywhere with you. I've got a mum at home who needs these."
For a moment, Gojo was silent. The infuriating grin on his face didn't vanish, but it softened into something a fraction more genuine. The Six Eyes saw the unwavering resolve in her stance, the absolute priority she placed on the woman waiting for her. He understood that kind of bond all too well.
"Alright, alright. Family first. I can respect that," he said, his tone losing its playful edge and gaining a note of real respect. "We'll cut the intro short tonight. But this isn't a goodbye."
He took a step backward, the space around him beginning to warp and distort subtly. "We'll meet again soon. And we'll talk more about all... this." He gestured vaguely at the destruction around them. "Try not to level any more city blocks before then, 'kay?"
And with a final, casual wave, he was gone. Not a blur of movement, but simply erased from the space he occupied, leaving behind only the faint afterimage of his smile in the air.
Rumi rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't fall out of her head. "Weirdo," she muttered to the empty street as her ears slowly turned back to normal.
She adjusted the bag in her hand and continued her walk home, the night suddenly feeling much quieter and more ordinary.
'Yeah, whatever. Show up if you want but I'm not joining your little sorcerer yet. Maybe next year you can try to transfer me to Jujutsu High, but it's not happening today.
I've got my own problems and don't have time to be part of the war with your boyfriend Gaytto.'
The thought was laced with the smug satisfaction of her private joke. As she turned onto her street, the power chose that moment to flicker back on all down the block. House lights and street lamps buzzed to life, washing away the eerie darkness and making the night's events feel like a distant, bizarre dream.
After a fifteen-minute walk through the now-power-restored streets, Rumi arrived at the gates of her home. It was a large, modern estate built with a traditional Japanese sensibility—dark wood, a sweeping tiled roof, and a serene, manicured garden that felt a world away from the urban chaos of Shinjuku. The familiar sight was a balm to her nerves.
She pushed open the heavy front door, the scent of sandalwood and polished oak washing over her. The familiar warmth of the genkan was a stark contrast to the cold, electric-charged air she'd just left outside.
"Mum? I'm home. I got your medicine," she called out, her voice deliberately light as she slipped off her shoes.
Just as she straightened up, a woman emerged from the kitchen. Hinata Usagiyama wore a simple red sweater and black pants, her movements graceful but carrying a faint weariness around the edges. She shared the same striking white hair and dark skin as her daughter, but where Rumi's eyes burned with crimson fire, Hinata's were a calm, deep blue, like a still ocean—though tonight they were clouded with pain and concern.
[Image here: No dirty thoughts please because this is what I can do for Rumi's mum okay.]
"Rumi," she said, her voice soft but layered with relief. "Thank you for getting these. I was so worried. The blackout, then that terrible shaking… it felt like an earthquake. I thought something might have happened to you."
Rumi pushed down the memory of the actual cause of that "earthquake" was actually a cursed spirit being vaporized by Gojo red
She offered her mother a reassuring, lopsided smile, the picture of casual strength.
"Mum, I'm sixteen, not a child. And I'm the undefeated kickboxing champion of Shinjuku, for crying out loud. A little tremor isn't going to hurt me." She handed over the bag, her tone gentle but firm, expertly steering her mother away from worry.
Hinata accepted the bag with a grateful sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I know, darling. I just… I worry. Dinner is ready on the stove. And I made your favorite dessert it's in the fridge." She quickly took a tablet from the bottle and washed it down with a glass of water already waiting on the entryway table.
"I'm going to lie down for a bit, Rumi. My head is still pounding. Don't forget to clean up before dinner, alright? You look like you've been… running." Hinata's eyes briefly scanned Rumi's uniform, perhaps noticing a faint smudge of dust she'd missed.
"I will, Mum you Rest well." Rumi said, her smile not faltering until her mother turned and slowly made her way up the stairs, one hand lightly tracing the banister for support.
The moment her mother's bedroom door clicked shut upstairs, the easygoing mask slid from Rumi's face. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
She moved through the silent, spacious house to the bathroom, her footsteps quiet on the tatami mats. Flicking on the light, she finally faced the mirror.
Washing her hands and splash some water on her face, Rumi contemplate of how will the Jujutsu higher ups think of her when gojo report about it.
Will they think of her as a threat like yuta with Rika and yuji being Sukuna's vessel because she was born different?
Doesn't matter because gojo will just say she can be a sorcerer next year when she finishes school in shinjuku junior high.
Rumi comes out of the bathroom after drying herself and heads to the kitchen, starting to scoop some curry from the pot and eat her dinner.
....
(3 days later)
Three days had passed since the incident in Yotsuya. For Rumi, life had snapped back into its usual rhythm of school, training, and caring for her mum. The morning walk to Shinjuku Junior High was filled with the usual chatter, today dominated by a heated debate.
"—so I'm just saying, if they focused less on the Nine-Tails and the Sharingan every five seconds, maybe we could've gotten more backstory on, like, Rock Lee!" one boy argued, waving his hands dramatically.
"Who cares about Lee? The Akatsuki were the only good part! Everything after Pain was just power-ups and plot holes!" his friend shot back, kicking a pebble in frustration.
Rumi ignored them, her thumbs flying across her phone screen as she expertly stacked blocks in an intense game of Tetris. The familiar, repetitive puzzle was a welcome distraction from the lingering thought of white hair and blindfolds.
The distraction was shattered by a sudden wave of high-pitched screams.
It wasn't the sound of fear. It was the sound of sheer, unadulterated delirium.
Rumi's head snapped up. Her heightened senses, a fundamental part of her physical prowess, pinpointed the commotion at the school gates without any visible change. Her crimson eyes scanned the scene, and her face immediately contorted into a grimace of pure, unadulterated annoyance.
There he was.
Satoru Gojo was leaning against the gatepost surrounded by a swirling vortex of giggling, blushing girls.
He'd traded his blindfold for a pair of ridiculously good looking sunglasses and was wearing a sleek black jacket and jeans, looking every bit the celebrity idol who had taken a wrong turn on his way to a photoshoot.
"Ladies, ladies pleass give me some space, i need to meet a important person to talk to!" he said.
Before Rumi could turn and walk the other way to avoid him, Satoru Gojo head tilted in her direction. A knowing grin spread across his face.
"Rumi! Over here! Boy, am I glad to see you~!" he called out, his voice cutting through the squeals.
A hush fell over the crowd of girls near her. Dozens of heads swiveled to stare at Rumi who just stoppedin her tracks, feeling the stares of their expressions a mix of shock, envy, and intense curiosity.
"Wait... Usagiyama? Is he her boyfriend?" one whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Another girl, who'd been on the receiving end of Rumi's protection more than once, shook her head vigorously. "No way, dumbass. Rumi's into girls. But how does she know a guy like that?"
Rumi's eyes twitches in irritation as she loom at gojo
The speculation was cut short by the sound of the principal clearing his throat nervously from the school entrance. He was wringing his hands, his glasses slightly askew.
"Ahem! Students! The bell will ring soon. Please, proceed to your classrooms immediately." His eyes darted between Gojo and Rumi, his face pale. "Usagiyama... a word in my office. Now. And... bring your... friend."
The way he said "friend" made it sound like he was asking her to bring a influential person into the building.
She didn't have a good feeling about all of this.
She shoved her phone into her pocket, shot a death glare at a still-smirking Gojo, and stomped toward the principal's office with him, already mentally preparing for the worst.
...
The walk to the principal's office was silent, save for the obnoxious sound of Gojo sucking on a lollipop he'd produced from seemingly nowhere. He looked utterly at home, dropping into one of the plush chairs opposite the principal's desk like he owned the place. Rumi remained standing, arms crossed, her glare boring a hole into the side of his head.
The principal sank into his own chair with a weary sigh, avoiding Rumi's eyes as he nervously straightened a stack of papers. He finally cleared his throat, the sound strained.
"Rumi, please, have a seat."
She didn't move. "I'm fine standing. What's this about?"
The principal flinched slightly at her tone but pressed on. He slid a folder across the desk toward her. It was filled with printed emails, formal letters on legal letterhead, and incident reports.
"As you can see, Rumi... the parents' complaints have... escalated. Drastically. They are now threatening to band together and take the school to court for the grievous injuries their sons have sustained unless... unless you are moved to another school."
Rumi's glare broke from Gojo and snapped to the principal. Her blood ran cold, then hot. "What?!" she snapped, snatching the folder. Her eyes scanned the documents. The language was vicious, describing her as a "menace," a "violent hazard," and demanding "immediate action." "What the hell do you mean? This never happened like this two years ago! What changed!?"
The principal wrung his hands. "I understand this is surprising. The... the nature of the complaints has changed. It's no longer just about broken noses or sprained wrists. Several parents are citing 'lasting emotional trauma' and 'psychological distress.' They're claiming the environment is 'unsafe.'" He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though Gojo could undoubtedly hear every word. "I suspect a... a coordinated effort. Perhaps an influential parent with a grudge is rallying the others. You know how these things can snowball. The legal fees alone to fight this... the board has decided it's simply not feasible."
He gestured weakly toward Gojo, who chose that moment to pull the lollipop from his mouth with a loud pop.
"Which is why," the principal continued, "it is... fortuitous... that Mr. Gojo here has approached us. He represents a very exclusive, private institution the Tokyo Prefectural Sister School."
Rumi's stomach dropped. There it is.
The principal, completely oblivious to the name's true meaning, plowed on. "It's a special boarding school that specializes in educating students with... unique and... potentially disruptive talents. They focus on strict discipline and physical education. A full scholarship has been arranged. They believe your... aggressive tendencies... can be channeled into something productive, like competitive martial arts."
Gojo finally spoke, his voice a lazy drawl. "Think of it like a boot camp for Olympic-level athletes. We provide the structure so gifted kids don't get bored and, well..." He gestured vaguely at the folder in Rumi's hands. "...break things. Or people."
The principal nodded vigorously, latching onto the excuse. "Yes, exactly! It's a wonderful opportunity, Rumi. A fresh start. Mr. Gojo has already handled all the transfer paperwork and your mother had a talk about this and ultimately agrees. Your records will be sent over, next week will be your final week here at Shinjuku Junior High. This new school will be... perfect for you."
The pieces slammed together in Rumi's mind. The sudden, legally threatening complaints, the impossibly fast "solution." The smug bastard sitting next to her with a lollipop. This wasn't parent damn outrage, this was the Jujutsu society influence.
The damn higher-ups were pulling strings, fabricating a crisis to force her into their system. They were making her the problem to offer their own pre-planned solution.
The realization hit her like a physical blow, how the carefully maintained normalcy of her life was being ripped away, not by a curse spirit, but by bureaucracy and manipulation.
Her hands clenched into fists, the folder crumpling in her grip. Her face, which had been a mask of anger, shifted into pure, unadulterated fury. She took a sharp, furious breath and shouted.
"WHAT THE FU—"
End.
.....
[Author note: Honestly, I didn't expect to write this fast if I had a lot of rest and time for me to do this chapter quick. Please give me more comments so I can release a new chapter and don't forget power stones to get this one more attention for readers.]