Bonus chapter because I don't know if I will be able to publish anything tomorrow (And I has nothing to do with received stones *wink wink*
Anyhow
Withou any further to do, enjoy!
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(Niguredou Yuria's POV)
Yuria stood stiffly in the empty classroom, feeling more exposed than she ever had facing down a curse.
The gazes of the other two girls, Yotsuba Miko, who radiated a calm aura, and Sakurajima Mai, the stunning model who lounged on the teacher's desk like she owned it, were bad enough.
But it was his gaze that pinned her in place.
Yoshioka-sensei's crimson eyes swept over her, analytical and intense, missing nothing. It felt like he was seeing straight through the tough facade she tried so hard to maintain, down to the scared, inexperienced girl underneath.
She fought the urge to fidget with her hair, thinking it would reduce points on a imaginary scale he was doing
After a long, silent moment, he spoke, his voice its usual flat baritone. "You have potential"
The words were simple, devoid of warmth, but they hit Yuria like a physical blow. Potential.
The Mother had only ever given her trinkets and vague praise.
This felt different.
Miko offered her a small, encouraging smile from where she leaned against a desk. Mai, still perched on Sensei's desk, lifted her legs slightly, a playful, teasing smirk on her lips.
"Well, well" Mai drawled, her voice like honey. "Another girl, Sensei? Are you building a harem or something?"
Yuria felt her face grow warm, Miko also blushed slightly, but Sensei didn't even blink.
"If that is the framework you choose to interpret this dynamic, then you will be pleased to know I have identified two potential male candidates for this group" He replied, completely deadpan.
Miko's head tilted in curiosity. "Male candidates? Who?"
"Zaimozuka Yoshiteru and Kageyama Shigeo. I have observed them. Their latent potential is significant"
Miko's eyes widened in recognition "Kageyama-kun? He's in my class! He's so usually quiet…"
Yuria just shook her head; she'd never paid any attention to the quiet boys.
Then, Sensei's focus returned to Yuria, and the air seemed to grow heavier. "Niguredou-san. Have you developed your innate technique?"
Yuria blinked. "My… what?"
A beat of confused silence filled the room.
Miko stared at her. "Wait, what? I thought you were the 'number one apprentice' or something. Didn't she teach you anything?"
Yuria's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "She gave me the beads! She said they would protect me! She never said anything about a… a technique or anything like that!" The memory of the beads shattering, leaving her utterly helpless against that blocky curse, was still painfully fresh.
Sensei let out a quiet sigh, a sound that spoke volumes of impending, tedious work. "I see. It seems there is a lot you don't know. We have a considerable amount of foundational work to do with you."
He straightened up, and his gaze hardened, though his tone remained even. "Regardless. Welcome to the group, Niguredou Yuria. Be prepared for what is to come."
The way he said it wasn't a friendly welcome.
It was a warning. A promise of gruelling, terrifying work. A shiver of both fear and excitement ran down her spine.
"To that end," he continued, "All of you will meet me at 9 p.m. at the usual location. We will be conducting another clean-up operation."
Mai groaned melodramatically, letting her head loll back. "Ugh, again? We've been swatting those weak little flies for weeks now. Can't we find something with a little more bite?"
"Proficiency is built upon repetition," Sensei stated, unmoved by her complaint. "Mastery of fundamentals against lower-tier targets is preferable to being overwhelmed and killed by a superior enemy You will practice. You will improve. That is the objective."
He dismissed them with a slight nod, already turning to gather his things. Yuria stood there for a second longer, her mind reeling.
She had a lot to learn. And for the first time, she had someone who could actually teach her.
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(Sakurajima Mai's POV)
The night air was cool against her skin.
Mai leaned against the rusted fence of the abandoned lot, the designated "usual spot," and watched as Miko and Yuria approached.
Miko gave a small, determined wave. Yuria just looked nervous, her eyes darting around every shadow.
"Took you long enough," Mai said, a playful smirk on her lips.
"Sorry, Mai-san! Yuria-chan's house is in the opposite direction," Miko explained.
Yuria just mumbled a greeting, her arms crossed tightly.
Mai's smirk widened as Miko's eyes lingered on her outfit—form-fitting black athletic wear. "See something you like, Miko-chan?" she teased.
Miko blushed slightly. "N-no! It's just... your zipper is down. Aren't you cold?"
Mai glanced down at the exposed strip of skin between her breasts. "Not really. Besides" She sighed with exaggerated weariness, "It's a pain to zip it all the way up now. These things have gotten... bigger. A whole size or two, I think. I'm going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe soon"
She let the complaint hang in the air, a private, triumphant little secret. She mentally pictured dragging a stoic, confused Yoshioka-sensei on a shopping trip. 'It's your fault, after all' She'd tell him. 'The least you can do is help me pick out bras that fit' And maybe, just maybe, her new proportions would finally earn a reaction from those impassive crimson eyes.
To her surprise, Miko nodded in earnest agreement. "You too? I've gotten a little taller, and my jeans are all so tight on my thighs now. It's like my whole body is changing." The first-year then tilted her head. "What about your cursed technique? Have you been training with it?"
Now that was a question Mai had been waiting for. A genuine, full smile spread across her face. "Oh, I have been training with it" she purred.
She focused. It wasn't like before, a desperate prayer to be ignored. It was a conscious, fluid command. A curtain fell, not around her, but within the perception of everyone present.
Miko's eyes widened in shock, her head whipping around.
"Mai-san?!" Yuria jumped, looking frantically at the spot where Mai had just been standing. She was gone. Completely erased from their senses.
Mai, invisible and utterly silent, took two steps forward. She reached out and gave Yuria's shoulder a gentle, playful push.
"Wah!" Yuria yelped, spinning around to see nothing, her face pale with fright.
Mai released the technique, reappearing right in front of them with a satisfied smirk. "I call it 'Phantom Veil.' Before, I was just hoping people wouldn't notice me. Now? I can decide who perceives me and who doesn't. Even you can't sense me now, Miko-chan"
"That's amazing, Mai-san!" Miko said, genuinely impressed. "Mine seems to just be a sensing type, I think. But it's okay! I have Mamoru to fight with me!"
Yuria, still rubbing her shoulder, looked between them with a confused frown. "What... what are you talking about? What technique?"
Mai decided to take pity on her. "According to our wonderful sensei, it's called an 'Innate Technique.' It's a special ability you're born with, shaped by your own... essence, I guess. It's the core of how you use your Cursed Energy. Everyone's technique is different"
Yuria's eyes lit up with intrigue, her fear momentarily forgotten. "A special ability... I wonder what mine is?"
"Hopefully it's something useful," Mai said dryly. "Unlike a certain someone's glorified night-light vision and sonar"
"Hey!" Miko protested, but she was smiling.
"Good. You are all on time."
The voice came from directly behind them. All three girls jumped. Yoshioka-sensei stood there, having appeared without a sound, as was his habit.
"Let's walk to the location. I will explain a few concepts on the way" He stated, turning and beginning to walk without checking if they followed.
They hurried to fall in step beside him.
"As your techniques develop, you must understand the concept of 'Binding Vows'" He began, his voice a low lecture in the quiet night. "A Binding Vow is a conscious restriction placed on oneself or an agreement with another, which, in exchange, grants a power boost. Revealing the name and function of your technique to an opponent is one of the most common and effective vows. It is called 'Revealing one's hand'. It imposes a condition, giving your enemy information, and in return, the technique's output is significantly amplified."
Mai filed that away immediately. So announcing 'Phantom Veil' wasn't just for show; it was a strategic power-up. Useful.
He continued, his tone never wavering. "Furthermore, there is Reverse Cursed Technique. The application of positive energy, generated by multiplying your own Cursed Energy against itself within your body. It is exceptionally difficult to master, as it requires a precise, counter-intuitive control. Its primary function is healing, both for oneself and others, and in some cases, can even affect your cursed technique"
Mai glanced at Miko, seeing the same determined look of concentration on her face. This was advanced stuff.
This was real sorcerer knowledge.
They arrived at the edge of a dense, dark forest. The air felt heavier here, tinged with a familiar, foul energy.
Sensei stopped. "The objective tonight is the extermination of the Cursed Spirits nesting in this area. I myself brought them here for the sake of the exercise. Their grade is low, suitable for practice." His crimson eyes shifted to Yuria. "Niguredou. You will remain with me and observe. You are not yet prepared for combat."
Yuria looked like she wanted to protest, but one look at the oppressive darkness of the woods made her snap her mouth shut and nod meekly.
Mai cracked her knuckles, a thrill of anticipation running through her. It was time to work.
And maybe, just maybe, show off a little for the sensei watching her
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(Niguredou Yuria's POV)
Yuria stood rigidly at Yoshioka-sensei's side, her knuckles white as she gripped the sleeves of her tracksuit.
The forest was a nightmare come to life, but not the way she was used to.
Before, the horrors were things to run from, to ignore.
Now, she was being forced to watch them up close.
And she was being forced to watch Miko and Mai fight them.
A small, multi-limbed spirit scuttled out from behind a tree, its mouth a distorted gash dripping black sludge.
Before Yuria could even gasp, Mai was already moving. She didn't flinch. She didn't hesitate.
She simply blurred, becoming a near-invisible phantom for a split second before reappearing behind the thing, her fist slamming into its core with a burst of cursed energy that made it pop like a rotten fruit.
"Your form is sloppy, Sakurajima!" Sensei's voice cut through the night, cold and analytical. "You're over-rotating your shoulder. It wastes energy and leaves you open. Correct it."
"Right, Sensei!" Mai called back, not even sounding winded.
Another spirit, this one a floating orb with a single, giant eye, shot a beam of energy. Miko didn't dodge. She held her ground, a hand on her chest. "Mamoru!"
The massive, spectral form of her Shikigami materialized in a flash of white light, taking the hit on its shoulder without a flinch. It lunged forward, its powerful jaws snapping the orb-spirit out of the air with a sound of tearing fabric.
"Yotsuya, your summoning speed has improved by point-three seconds. Adequate. But your positioning is predictable. Vary your tactics."
"Yes, Sensei!" Miko yelled, a determined smile on her face.
Yuria could only watch, her mouth agape.
They were fearless.
They were powerful.
They were... actually enjoying this?
They moved through the grotesque parade of spirits with a practiced ease she couldn't even comprehend.
A deep, aching feeling settled in her chest. It wasn't just fear. It was envy.
"Cease combat" Sensei commanded suddenly "Fall back."
Miko and Mai immediately disengaged, landing lightly beside Yuria, their breathing slightly elevated but their expressions alert.
Sensei took a single step forward. From the deeper shadows of the forest, something tall emerged. It was a grotesque parody of a giraffe, its neck a twisted, pulsating column of flesh covered in weeping sores, its head a mess of mismatched eyes and antlers.
It let out a screech that made Yuria's teeth ache.
As the thing lunged, its long neck whipping towards him, Sensei didn't even look at it. He was looking at the three of them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of simple, black leather gloves. He slipped them on.
"This is a Cursed Tool" He explained, his voice perfectly calm as he leaned back, the giraffe curse's gnashing teeth missing his face by a millimeter. "An object imbued with Cursed Energy. They can have various effects, from simple reinforcement to unique abilities." He sidestepped a stomping foot that cracked the ground where he'd been standing "This tool's function is to conduct and amplify the user's Cursed Energy, imbuing strikes with a purifying effect. Of course, a Cursed Tool of this quality has a certain amount of energy it can conduct before breaking"
He didn't dodge the next attack. Instead, he stepped into it. His gloved hand shot forward, a simple, straight punch that seemed too small, too simple, to face the monstrous thing in front of him.
There was a flash of intense blue light from the glove. A sound like sizzling bacon and shattering glass filled the air. The giraffe curse's entire front half vaporized from the point of impact, the rest of its body dissolving into black mist before it could even fall.
Yuria stared. He'd destroyed it with one punch.
Sensei turned back to them, removing the gloves. "Relying solely on your innate technique or Shikigami is a strategic vulnerability. You must be proficient in multiple forms of combat." He reached into his jacket again and produced two very different weapons.
He tossed one to Mai. It was a Kusarigama, but unlike the traditional farming implement, this was a tool of pure assassination. The handle was sleek and black. The chain was whisper-thin and seemingly as black as shadows, and the weighted end was a small, razor-sharp kunai instead of a blunt weight "A tool for entanglement, distraction, and silent elimination from a distance. It complements your technique's need for misdirection and lethal precision. It has other function, but you will have to figure it out by yourself"
He then tossed a weapon to Miko. It was a Bo-staff made of a strange, pale wood that seemed to hum with latent energy. Kanji were lightly carved along its length, glowing with a soft, blue light. "A mid-range weapon for control and defense. Use it to maintain distance, control the battlefield, and create openings for your Shikigami to strike. It will enhance your structural reinforcement."
"Now" He said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Continue the extermination. Use the tools. Sakurajima, practice using the chain to create openings for a final, silent strike. Yotsuya, focus on controlling the space around you and directing Mamoru through the openings you create. Go."
The two older girls looked at their new weapons, then at each other, a new fire of determination in their eyes. They charged back into the fray.
Yuria watched, mesmerized, as Mai's chain snaked out through the darkness, silent and invisible, wrapping around a spirit's limb to yank it off balance before she vanished and reappeared to deliver a killing blow with the kunai.
She saw Miko spin the staff, creating a defensive arc that batted a curse away before she pointed, and Mamoru lunged through the opening she created, tearing the spirit apart.
Sensei called out more instructions, his voice a steady stream of corrections and praise that was already making them better, sharper, deadlier.
The fear was still there, coiling in Yuria's gut.
But it was being overshadowed by something else, something hotter and more powerful. It was a yearning so intense it stole her breath.
She watched Miko's confident control of the battlefield.
She watched Mai's silent, graceful lethality.
She watched Sensei's calm, absolute command over the terrifying night.
The thought formed in her mind, clear and undeniable, drowning out everything else.
'I wanna be like them'
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(Yotsuya Miko's POV)
The last of the curses dissolved into a foul-smelling mist under the combined force of Mamoru's jaws and a precise strike from Miko's new staff.
The forest fell silent, the oppressive, negative energy replaced by the normal sounds of a late-night breeze.
Miko leaned on the staff, catching her breath. Her muscles ached, but it was a good ache. A productive one.
"Fall in" Yoshioka-sensei's voice called from the clearing's edge.
They gathered before him.
Yuria looked pale but fascinated.
Mai was wiping a speck of ectoplasmic grime from her cheek with a look of mild distaste.
Miko just tried to stop panting so loudly.
"Your performance was good" he began, his crimson eyes scanning each of them in turn. "Sakurajima, your integration of the kusarigama with your Phantom Veil shows promise. However, you rely too heavily on the tool's misdirection and not enough on your own innate speed. Correct this. Yotsuya, your defensive control was sufficient. Your synchronization with your Shikigami has improved and his summoning speed has decreased. Maintain this trajectory"
It was the closest they would get to glowing praise. Miko felt a small spark of pride anyway.
"Yotsuya" He said, his focus landing squarely on her. "Call forth your Shikigami."
Miko blinked, confused. The fight was over. But she didn't question it. She placed a hand over her heart, feeling the warm, protective presence nestled there. "Mamoru."
In a flash of ethereal white light, the massive, fox-like guardian dog materialized, letting out a soft, rumbling huff. It nudged her hand with its spectral head.
"Now" Sensei instructed, "Store your weapon inside it."
Miko stared. "Inside... him? Can he do that?"
"Some shikigami of certain grade possess a minor spatial storage ability, typically within their own form. It is a unique skill. Attempt it."
Hesitantly, Miko held out the pale wooden staff. Mamoru lowered its head and opened its massive maw, not in a snarl, but like a dog waiting for a treat. Gently, she pushed the end of the staff into its mouth.
Instead of hitting the back of its throat, the staff seemed to vanish into a pocket of shimmering air. She pushed until the entire staff was gone, and Mamoru closed its jaws with a soft click. Then, with another soft huff, the shikigami dissolved back into light and faded into her chest.
"Wow," Miko breathed, patting her chest where the warm presence now resided, along with her weapon. "That's so convenient!"
Sensei then turned to Mai. From within his jacket, which Miko was starting to believe was somehow bigger on the inside, he produced a sleek, black violin case. "Store your weapon in this. It will mask the cursed energy signature and provide a practical carrying solution"
Mai took the case, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, but popped the latches open. Her kusarigama fit inside the moulded interior perfectly, the chain coiled neatly and the kunai end secured in a padded holder. "Well, aren't you full of surprises, Sensei," she said, closing the case with a definitive snap "It's very stylish."
"It is about time I gave both of you this, your compensation for your hard work" Sensei stated, reaching into his pocket once more. He pulled out two plain manila envelopes and handed one to Mai and one to Miko.
"Compensation?" Miko asked, taking the envelope. It had a surprising heft to it.
Mai was already opening hers. Her eyes widened slightly. Inside was a thick stack of 10,000-yen bills. "Whoa. You pay us for this?"
"It is standard practice for sorcerers to receive monetary remuneration for exorcising curses" He explained matter-of-factly. "Consider it a stipend for your training and efforts."
Miko peeked into her own envelope and felt her jaw drop. It was more money than she'd ever held in her life. Her mind instantly raced, she could help her mom with groceries, maybe even buy a new game...
Curiosity getting the better of her, she looked up at Sensei. "Are there... other sorcerers? Like us? Who do this for a job?"
"There are" He nodded "The jujutsu world is primarily overseen by three major sorcerer families and a central institution, Jujutsu High, which trains new sorcerers."
"Jujutsu High?" Miko echoed. It sounded like something out of a manga.
"I encountered one of their operatives recently" Sensei added. "She was a Special Grade sorcerer. Considered one of the most powerful alive."
Mai's head snapped up from counting her money, her eyes sharpening instantly. "She?" She asked, her voice laced with a sudden, unmistakable edge. "Do you... have some kind of relation with her?"
Sensei didn't seem to notice the jealous tone. Or, more likely, he noticed and simply didn't care "Our interaction was brief. We met in a restaurant. She was unaware of my capabilities, though I suspect her suspicions were raised by the end of the encounter." His calm, factual explanation seemed to drain the tension from Mai's shoulders
Miko, however, was still stuck on the idea of a school for sorcerers. "Will we ever go to Jujutsu High? Since we're learning all this..."
"No" The answer was immediate and absolute. "You are better here. The formal jujutsu world is a nest of political intrigue, under-the-table dealings, and archaic traditions enforced by old men who believe their way is the only way. Your development would be stifled. Your autonomy, removed. This method is better"
The finality in his voice ended the discussion.
With that, he gave a slight nod. "Our session is concluded. Do not be late for school tomorrow. Additionally, prepare yourselves. We will be going to the Shrine on Saturday night. A very important lesson awaits you there."
And just like that, he turned and walked away, melting into the shadows of the forest path without another word.
The three girls were left standing in the quiet clearing.
Yuria looked overwhelmed.
Mai was thoughtfully hefting her violin case.
Miko clutched the envelope full of money, her mind buzzing
"Well," Mai said, breaking the silence. "See you two tomorrow"
"Bye, Mai-san! Bye, Yuria-chan!" Miko said, offering a tired but happy wave before starting her own walk home, her mind racing far too fast for sleep.
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(Next Day – Morning)
(?'s POV)
Life was a delicate balancing act.
For him
, that wasn't a metaphor. It was a daily, exhausting reality. His entire existence was built around a simple, terrifying principle: maintain control.
His power was a vast, bottomless ocean inside him. Most of the time, he kept it locked away, letting out only the tiniest, most controlled drips—enough to float a spoon, to nudge a book back onto a shelf. Things that wouldn't hurt anyone. He lived at a constant 1%. Letting his emotions spike, whether from anger, fear, or even extreme joy, was like opening the floodgates. At 100%... he became something else. Something that broke things. Something that scared people. Something that scared him.
He'd tried to find answers before. He'd gone to psychics and mediums, hoping they'd understand the "ghosts" only he could see. But they were all fakes. They saw nothing. So he'd stopped asking.
He would restrict himself, lock his true potential away, to ensure the safety of everyone around him. It was lonely. It was heavy.
But it was necessary.
The morning was quiet, like most of his mornings. He was at his desk, the hum of the classroom a dull backdrop to his internal vigil.
Until someone got close to his desk
"Um, excuse me?"
He looked up. Yotsuya-san from his class was standing there, her expression a little nervous but determined
She was a nice girl, but she'd seemed… different lately. More confident.
"Are you Kageyama-kun?" she asked the room.
He slowly raised his hand. "I… I am."
Yotsuya-san smiled. "Could you come with me for a moment? It's important."
Puzzled but too polite to refuse, He stood and followed her out of the classroom.
She didn't say anything else, just led him down the hall to a window that looked out onto a quiet corner of the school grounds.
And there he was.
Yoshioka-sensei. The teacher everyone was always talking about. The girls in his class whispered about him constantly, about how he looked like a model who'd stepped out of a magazine.
He had seen him from a distance and understood the whispers. But seeing him up close was different.
He was leaning against the wall, reading a book with a focused intensity. The morning sun caught his platinum hair, making it seem almost white.
His features were sharp and perfectly defined, and he carried himself with a stillness. He thought, with a pang of his own shyness, that a man who looked like that would probably have no trouble at all talking to Takane-chan. He would probably just walk right up to her and…
Yoshioka-sensei closed his book with a soft snap, his crimson eyes lifting to meet theirs. "Good. You are here. Thank you, Yotsuya-san."
Yotsuya-san nodded quickly, gave Shigeo an encouraging little wave, and hurried away, leaving him alone with the most intimidatingly handsome teacher in school.
"Good morning, Kageyama-san" Sensei said. His voice was a calm, low baritone that seemed to settle over the area, muting the sounds of the distant school. "My apologies for interrupting your morning."
"I-It's no problem, Sensei," He stammered, bowing slightly. "What did you need?" His mind raced. Why would this teacher, who seemed to exist in a completely different world from his own, want to talk to him?
Yoshioka-sensei didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket. He expected him to pull out a pen, or maybe a note.
What he pulled out was a small, writhing, grotesque thing. It looked like a hairball with too many eyes and tiny, needle-like teeth, oozing a faint, miserable energy.
"Can you see this thing?" Sensei asked, his tone completely neutral, as if he were asking about the weather.
His blood ran cold. His heart hammered against his ribs. 'No. No one else can see them. No one ever can' His carefully constructed walls trembled.
"I… I don't…" he stammered, his eyes darting away from the horrible little spirit. "I don't know what you're talking about, Sensei."
Yoshioka-sensei's expression didn't change "There is no need for deception. I am already aware. And your reaction has just confirmed it."
The lie died in his throat. The pretence shattered. He stared at the teacher, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and… hope? "You… you can see it too?"
"I can," Sensei confirmed. He held the squirming spirit pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "What do you think it is?"
His voice was a whisper. "I… I thought they were ghosts. I've been able to see them since I was little. But… when I went to see espers and mediums… they couldn't see them"
"They were frauds. Devoid of any actual power," Sensei stated, a simple, undeniable fact. Then, without warning, he flicked his wrist, tossing the small spirit directly at Shigeo's face.
Instinct took over. Fear. Revulsion.
The spirit didn't reach him. It didn't even get within a foot.
A pulse of invisible force erupted from him, a perfectly spherical barrier of pure energy. The spirit vaporized mid-air with a silent pop, its negative energy dissipating into nothing.
The air was still. He was breathing heavily, his hands clenched at his sides.
Yoshioka-sensei observed him, those piercing crimson eyes missing nothing. "As I suspected. Your technique is a form of telekinesis. Highly versatile. Immensely powerful." He paused, his head tilting slightly. "But… you've placed a Binding Vow upon yourself. You actively restrict your own power. You live in a state of perpetual suppression. Why?"
The question was so direct, so insightful, that it bypassed all of his defenses. The words tumbled out. "It's… it's too strong. I can't control it. When my emotions get too high… it all comes out. Everything. I break things. I hurt people. I'm… I'm scared of it. Of me."
He expected dismissal. A warning. Something.
Instead, Yoshioka-sensei stepped forward. He moved silently, and before he could flinch, he placed a firm, steady hand on his shoulder. The grip was grounding.
Comforting.
"I understand," Sensei said, and his voice, for the first time, held a note of something that wasn't cold analysis. It was… empathy. "You have been carrying this burden alone for a long time. It is a heavy weight for anyone to bear."
He squeezed his shoulder gently. "But you are wrong about one thing. You can control it. It is your power. It belongs to you, not the other way around. Suppressing it is not control. That is fear. True control is understanding it, honing it, and commanding it to serve your will. You do not need to be afraid of your own strength."
Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision. No one had ever said that to him.
No one has ever know of this power, no one has ever seen it, and now, someone who could probably use the same powers as him, not only could see it, but understand it.
He wasn't alone, not anymore
"I…" he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to be scared anymore."
"Then you won't be" Sensei stated, his voice filled with a certainty that felt like a promise. "I will help you. You will learn control. Not through suppression, but through mastery."
A single tear traced a path down his cheek. He looked up at the enigmatic teacher, seeing not just a handsome face, but a lifeline. A guide.
"Thank you," he whispered, the words carrying the weight of a long time of loneliness and fear. "Thank you, Sensei."
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(Thousands of Years Ago)
(?'s POV)
The Kansas sun beat down on the fields of the Kent farm, a warm, familiar comfort. For him, the scent of dry earth and growing corn was the smell of home.
It was the smell of safety, of a childhood built on a foundation of love and hard work. And a lot of that foundation was thanks to the man walking beside him, tossing bales of hay into the truck with an effortless, practiced grace
Aaden Kent. His older brother.
To the world, Clark was Kal-El, the last son of Krypton, a hero forged in the light of a yellow sun. But long before he was Superman, he was just Clark. And before Clark, there was Aaden.
His parents had adopted Aaden a few years before a certain rocket had crash-landed in their field.
He didn't talk much. According to their parents, he was a strange kid, quiet, obedient, and very intelligent, and Ma and Pa Kent, with hearts bigger than the state itself, never really cared. He was family. That was all that mattered.
And he had become his anchor.
He remembered the first time his strength had manifested, accidentally bending the steel frame of his bed in his sleep.
The terror he'd felt was overwhelming. He was a freak, a monster. He'd run to the barn, hiding in the loft, crying.
Aaden had found him.
He hadn't been surprised. He'd just sat down next to him, handed him a rag to wipe his face, and said, "So, you're stronger than most. So what? Now you have to be more careful. And you have to learn control. I'll help you."
And he did. While Pa taught him values, Aaden taught him control.
How to measure his strength in fractions, to feel the fragility of the world around him and adjust his touch accordingly. Aaden's patience was infinite, his instructions precise. He was the steady hand on the tiller when his world felt like it was spinning out of control.
When he'd learned the truth about his origins, about Krypton, the fear had returned. Who was he, really? Was he even human?
Aaden had found him again, staring at the stars from the same barn loft. He'd listened to his fears, his confusion.
Then, he'd placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm and grounding. "Listen to me, Clark. It doesn't matter if you were born on Mars, on Jupiter, or on some planet I can't even pronounce. You are Clark Kent. You are the son of Jonathan and Martha Kent. You are my little, sometimes stupid, younger brother. That's the only origin that matters."
The words had sunk in, washing away the cosmic dread.
He was Clark Kent. And he'd made a promise to himself then, looking at his brother's unwavering certainty: he would make his family proud.
Now, as adults, Aaden had seamlessly taken over the running of the farm.
While he was in Metropolis saving the world, Aaden was here, maintaining the heart of their world.
It was a perfect, silent partnership.
"Boys!" Their mother's voice called from the farmhouse porch. Martha Kent stood there, holding two tall glasses that dripped with condensation. "Take a break! Come get some lemonade!"
Aaden tossed the last bale onto the truck with a final thump and wiped his brow with the back of his arm. He took off his straw hat, revealing his platinum hair. "Let's call it a day, little brother. Ma's lemonade waits for no man, not even one who can bench-press a train"
He smiled, the sound of his brother's dry, understated humour a familiar comfort. "Wouldn't dream of it."
They walked back to the house, the dust kicking up around their boots. The porch steps creaked their familiar welcome as they climbed up.
Martha handed them the glasses. "Oh, and Aaden, dear" She said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Harley called while you were out. She asked if you were available this weekend"
Aaden took a long sip of lemonade. "Let me guess. You answered yes for me."
"Of course I did!" Martha said, swatting his arm playfully. "That girl turned down a big job opportunity in Gotham just to set up her practice in Metropolis, to be closer to you. Aaden Kent, you stop dragging your feet. You put a ring on that girl's finger before someone else realizes what a catch she is!"
Aaden's usual impassive expression softened into something rare and genuine, a small, quiet smile. He looked out over the fields, then back at his mother. "Will do, Mom. Will do."
He took a drink of his own lemonade, the sweet and tart taste perfectly balanced, just like everything Ma made.
He looked at his brother, the man who had taught him how to be a man, and he felt a surge of warmth that had nothing to do with the sun.
Well, he guessed he'd be getting a sister-in-law soon.
And he couldn't be happier.