The walk from the main hall to the residential wing wasn't far, but Gojo stretched it out as if we were on a sightseeing trip. His hands stayed in his pockets, his tone easy, but his eyes—hidden behind the usual blindfold—flicked to me now and then, sharp in their own way.
"So, Arata," he said casually, "ever stayed in a temple-school before?"
I gave him a side glance. "No. My life has been… less traditional."
He chuckled. "Good. Because this isn't exactly a place of normal schooling either. Classes, yes. Lessons, yes. But think more cursed spirits, cursed techniques, and missions where you might get your arm bitten off if you're not careful."
"I figured as much," I replied.
The path curved past a small pond where koi swam lazily beneath the water's surface. Further off, I caught sight of a training yard, empty for now except for one sorcerer practicing quiet forms, cursed energy faintly flickering around his limbs like a heat haze.
Even in peace, the air here buzzed with the reality of power.
"Ah," Gojo suddenly said, fishing into his long coat. "Almost forgot. This belongs to you."
He handed me a card. Stiff paper, official seal stamped in the corner. My eyes skimmed it:
Name: Arata Kurogane
Age: 15
Sex: Male
Grade: Special Grade
I paused, my brow furrowing. "Already?"
Gojo grinned. "You sound surprised."
"I thought…" I held the card loosely between my fingers. "I thought the higher-ups would resist. Aren't they conservative to the point of suffocating?"
"They are," Gojo admitted, rocking back on his heels. "But they're not stupid. After your fight, I trimmed the recording and showed them a version that emphasized your heat manipulation. It was enough for them to accept you as a special grade without endless debates."
Heat manipulation. That was only part of it, and Gojo knew it.
He tilted his head at me, smile crooked. "But you and I both know that's not all you've got, right? After all…" His tone lowered, more pointed now. "That wolf spirit you unleashed after the fight doesn't exactly fit in with fire tricks. And your cursed energy control? Too smooth for someone who's supposedly a newbie."
My grip on the card tightened slightly. "…You noticed."
"Of course I did." His smile widened. "I'm me."
I stayed quiet, my shoulders tensing, but before the silence grew heavier, Gojo waved a hand lazily. "Relax, relax. I'm not here to drag your secrets out by force. You should know something, though—there's a little trick called revealing your hand. When a sorcerer explains their cursed technique to someone else, it actually makes the technique stronger. Strange, right?"
I exhaled slowly, loosening my grip on the card. "…Strange, yes. But also useful."
"To prove I'm not bluffing," Gojo said, tapping his blindfold, "let me explain mine. The Limitless. It lets me manipulate space itself. Then there's Six Eyes—these beauties let me process cursed energy with absurd efficiency. Together, they make me, well… the strongest."
He said it with a cocky grin, but there was no arrogance in the explanation itself—it was matter-of-fact.
I nodded, considering. Then met his gaze—or rather, where I knew his gaze should be. "I'll trust you, Gojo. My technique… it lets me create cursed spirits. I can shape them, give them form, bestow them with powers. Even if I don't summon them, I can still use those powers myself. And when they devour cursed energy, it returns to me."
Gojo's grin widened into something between amusement and amazement. "Creation and reclamation, huh? People said my technique was broken. What does that make yours. Got any name for it?"
I shrugged lightly. "I haven't named it yet."
"Oh-ho?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully as we walked. Then, without missing a beat, he said, "How about Genesis? The beginning of all things. Fits, doesn't it? You create, you recycle. Everything comes from you and returns to you."
I slowed my steps, the name settling in my mind. For a few seconds, I said nothing. Then: "…That's not bad."
"So it's a yes?" Gojo asked, tilting his head playfully.
"It's a yes," I confirmed.
Gojo's grin stretched wide. "Perfect. 'Cursed Technique: Genesis.' Rolls off the tongue. And honestly, with something like that, it makes sense the world's balance has been shaky lately. The higher cursed spirit occurrences? Not just in Japan, but everywhere? Yeah… I'd say your awakening tilted the scales."
"…You think so?"
"I know so." He tapped my shoulder again. "But don't worry. That's a later problem. For now, your only job is to learn, fight, and grow stronger. Everything else—world balance, cursed society politics, the usual nonsense—leave that to me."
We reached the residential wing. The building was quieter, tucked slightly away from the main grounds. Rows of rooms, simple sliding doors, wooden floors, traditional bedding.
Gojo stopped in front of one and gestured. "This one's yours. Rest up, get used to the place. We'll start training soon enough."
I looked at him. "So you're my teacher?"
"Of course!" he replied instantly, puffing his chest like a child bragging about candy. "Who else? You get the one and only Gojo Satoru. Aren't you lucky?"
I smirked faintly. "Lucky isn't the word I'd use."
He laughed. "Oh, you'll thank me later."
With that, he waved and turned to leave, his voice echoing cheerfully down the hall. "See you later, Arataaa~!"
And then I was alone.
I slid the door open, stepping into the small but tidy room. Tatami mats, low table, folded bedding in the corner. The window looked out over the school grounds, where the evening light cast long shadows across the training yards.
For the first time since entering this new life, I let the silence settle. My thumb brushed over the card still in my hand—Special Grade Sorcerer.
Genesis.
The weight of it was heavy. But it was mine.