Timeframe: Same day — Arrival at Kyoto Jujutsu Tech
Location: Kyoto Jujutsu High Main Grounds
The train let out a breath of steam as it slid to a halt at the Kyoto station, its metallic shriek fading into the sound of cicadas. Akira stepped onto the platform, the air thick with summer heat and old suspicion.
The handler didn't say a word. Just walked.
Akira followed.
The Kyoto branch sat above a sloped hill — an old complex of wood and stone that looked more like a temple than a school. He could already feel the barrier around it: tightly woven, layered. Not like Tokyo's open weave — this one pulsed with authority.
The gates creaked open.
Two figures waited.
As Akira stepped through the compound gates, an unmistakable aura struck him — heavy, polished, rigid. Principal Gakuganji stood at the top of the temple stairs, cane in hand, saying nothing. Just watching.
The silence said everything: You are not welcome. You are only tolerated.
A moment later, the principal turned and walked inside without a word.
Akira didn't expect more.
Two figures waited near the courtyard below — Aoi Todo, shirt halfway unbuttoned, standing like a boulder with swagger. And beside him, Mai Zenin, arms crossed, chin tilted slightly up in condescension.
Todo took a step forward and spoke first. "So you're the one with the broken clock. The guy who bleeds time and trauma."
Akira's tone was flat. "That's not my official title."
Mai clicked her tongue. "No, that'd be liability under surveillance."
Todo stepped closer. "You know what I care about? Taste. What kind of woman do you like?"
Akira blinked. "...What?"
Todo's grin widened. "Answer correctly, and maybe we'll become best friends."
"I'm not here to make friends," Akira muttered.
Todo turned his back. "Wrong answer. I like tall women with big—"
"Not now," Mai snapped, cutting him off. "You can ask him your dumb compatibility questions after he proves he's not going to rewind the courtyard into a crater."
A faint giggle came from the side.
Akira turned — Kasumi Miwa, smiling awkwardly, waved a little from near the doorway.
"Ignore them," she whispered. "I mean, not ignore, just… don't let them rattle you. Welcome to Kyoto."
He blinked. "Thanks."
Behind her, Noritoshi Kamo walked past without a word, glancing at Akira only once — a sharp, calculating look. He held a small scroll, sealed with a blood sigil.
They all know, Akira realized. Every one of them's heard the story.
That I rewinded a death over and over… and still failed to stop it.
Todo clapped his hands loud. "Test time! Practice match. No anchors. Just fists."
Miwa leaned over to Mai and whispered, "He doesn't look like the type to start fights."
"He doesn't," Mai replied. "That's what makes him dangerous."
Aoi Todo, arms crossed, grinning like someone who already had opinions. And behind him — Mai Zenin, arms folded, gaze sharp.
"Well, well," Todo said, stepping forward. "The ticking ghost arrives."
Akira met his gaze, tired.
"I expected something louder," Todo continued. "Maybe a little deranged."
"Give it time," Mai muttered. "He's on the Joukanbu's leash now."
Akira didn't respond. He wasn't here to make friends. He was here because they couldn't decide what to do with him. So they shoved him where things go to be watched.
Todo stepped closer, peering into his face.
"Hm. You're not broken."
Akira's jaw tensed. "Not yet."
Todo laughed. "Good. I like my wild cards alive."
The handler motioned silently, and Akira followed him inside the campus. Students watched from a distance, whispers behind hands. Some eyes held curiosity. Others, fear.
He passed a girl who flinched just looking at him — her cursed energy rippling instinctively.
In the administrative wing, a stern man in robes sat behind a desk layered in seals and scrolls. The campus director, by title. But Akira could tell he wasn't the one truly watching.
They gave him a room, a schedule, and an expectation:
Report daily.
No solo missions.
No anchor use without supervision.
No entering the west wing after midnight.
He signed. He didn't read.
His room was sparse — futon, tatami, a paper screen door that creaked with every wind. He dropped his bag, sat down, and stared at the wall.
Silence.
Then — a whisper.
Not words. Not even a voice.
Just… presence.
He turned his head.
In the far corner, near the shadows, a flicker. His silhouette, standing — faint, half-formed.
He blinked. Gone.
The handler had warned him this might happen: echoes lingering outside anchor points. Fragments of self trying to remerge. But he didn't remember setting one today.
He ran a hand down his face.
You're not supposed to exist, he thought. And yet you do.
The door slid open sharply.
"Orientation," said a voice.
He looked up. Mai.
"You're late already," she added. "Let's go."
He followed her to the training yard. The rest of the Kyoto students stood in formation. No welcome. Just silence. They weren't used to Tokyo transfers. Especially not the kind with his file.
Akira stood apart.
Todo clapped his hands. "Alright! Let's test the ghost boy."
Groans echoed.
Akira frowned. "Test?"
"Practice match. No anchors. Just fists. Let's see if you can fight without breaking time."
Before he could respond, a student rushed forward — a tall second-year with a jagged staff. No name given.
Akira raised his hands to defend.
The student struck hard — faster than Akira expected. The blow cracked across his ribs. Pain flared. No time to think — the next strike came.
He parried — then faltered. For a second, he saw the student's face shift.
Not his opponent's — Junko's.
Bloody. Broken.
His hand jerked. The staff struck his shoulder, knocking him down.
Laughter. Whispers.
Todo stepped forward. "Enough."
The student paused, panting.
Akira's breath hitched. His cursed energy was flickering — not wild, but unstable. The seals on his sleeve glowed faintly, suppressing his output.
"Lesson one," Todo said. "Trauma doesn't make you special. Just makes you sloppy."
Mai folded her arms. "And if you lose control again, you're gone."
Akira didn't argue.
He stood, shoulder aching, vision swimming.
But in the corner of his eye… the echo again.
Same face. Same posture. But this time, its mouth was moving.
Like it was screaming something he couldn't hear.
Back in his room, Akira laid down.
The lights flickered. His breath slowed.
And he whispered to himself:
"I'm still in that second."
Then sleep took him. But not peace.
Not yet.