The sun rose warm over the Jujutsu High training grounds, casting long shadows across the grass. Kusakabe led Arata to a narrow wooden beam set across two stumps.
"Today's task is balance," Kusakabe said, lighting another cigarette. "Walk across the beam while keeping cursed energy evenly distributed across your whole body. Not too much in your legs, not too little in your arms. If the flow stutters, you'll lose balance."
Arata stepped onto the beam without hesitation. Kusakabe expected a stumble, maybe a wobble. Instead, Arata's steps were steady, his cursed energy flowing like water through a pipe — smooth, controlled, even. He walked across and back again without slipping once.
Kusakabe narrowed his eyes. "You've done this before?"
Arata shook his head. "No. But once I focus, the flow just… obeys."
Kusakabe muttered under his breath. "Damn special grades. They make the hard stuff look easy."
Still, he nodded. "Fine. But don't get cocky. Tomorrow, we'll see if you're really this consistent."
On the fifth day, Kusakabe placed a row of small paper targets on wooden stands. Each one had a faint ink circle drawn at the center.
"Next," he explained, "is cursed energy projection. Push CE out of your body without losing control. Enough force to leave a mark, but not so much that you destroy the target."
Arata raised his hand. Blue energy glowed faintly along his palm. With a push, a thin burst of cursed energy shot out, hitting the center of the first target. The paper fluttered, a neat hole punched through the circle.
Kusakabe blinked. "…Lucky shot."
Arata turned and calmly hit the next target. Then the next. Then the next. Each one dead-center.
By the tenth target, Kusakabe rubbed his temples. "You know, when I trained myself on this, it took me a week to even hit the paper."
Arata tilted his head slightly. "I just… imagine the energy leaving my hand as if it's an extension of me."
Kusakabe exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Great. Another natural. Gojo's probably laughing his head off somewhere."
And sure enough—
A voice came from behind them. "Actually, I am."
Both turned. Gojo stood there, waving lazily.
"Knew it," Kusakabe grumbled.
Gojo grinned. "You're welcome, by the way. I gave you a student who doesn't make you want to pull your hair out."
"You mean besides you?" Kusakabe shot back.
Arata fought the urge to laugh, his expression tightening just enough that Gojo noticed.
"See?" Gojo said, pointing at Arata. "He gets it. My sense of humor's top-tier."
Kusakabe ignored him. "Back to training."
On the sixth day, Kusakabe set up a heavier challenge. A massive iron block sat in the middle of the field, gleaming under the sun.
"Alright," he said, arms crossed. "Today you're going to layer cursed energy. First layer, protect your hand from damage. Second layer, focus on penetration power. Too much or too little, and you'll either break your hand or bounce off."
He gestured toward the block. "Hit it once. Clean strike."
Arata inhaled, cursed energy flowing around his arm. Unlike before, his energy shimmered in two distinct layers — a protective outer film and a concentrated inner force. He stepped forward and struck the iron block with his palm.
CRACK!
The iron split down the middle with a deafening sound, the halves tipping over. Arata pulled his hand back without a scratch.
Kusakabe stared. "…"
Gojo clapped slowly. "Beautiful. Did you see that layering? Textbook. Actually, better than textbook. Even I was only slightly better at his age."
Kusakabe shot him a glare. "Don't act like you trained for this. You were born with cheat codes."
"Guilty as charged," Gojo said cheerfully.
Arata flexed his hand calmly. "It wasn't hard. Just needed to imagine the energy splitting into two roles."
Kusakabe muttered, "He says that like it's pouring tea."
But beneath the sarcasm, there was respect in his eyes.
By the seventh day, word had spread among the staff that Gojo's "new kid" was learning fast. Sorcerers passing by glanced at the field where Arata stood, sparring lightly against Kusakabe. It wasn't everyday that you could see a special grade in action.
"Final test," Kusakabe announced. "Hit me. Full CE reinforcement, controlled. Don't hold back too much — I'll know."
Arata hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Kusakabe smirked. "Relax. I've fought worse. And besides, I need to see what you're really made of."
Arata's expression hardened. He coated his fist in cursed energy, clean and controlled. Then he lunged forward, striking toward Kusakabe's guard.
BAM!
The impact echoed across the field. The shockwave generated uprooted the entire field as big as 3 football fields combined. Kusakabe blocked, sliding back several feet in a blur across the field, his arm tingling from the force.
"...Damn," he muttered, coming back shaking his hand. "You weren't kidding. Though I can see you held back significantly."
Arata lowered his fist respectfully. "Thank you."
For a moment, silence hung between them. Then Kusakabe chuckled. "You know what? I'll say it. I like you, kid. You're polite, headstrong, and you don't act like a spoiled special grade. You actually listen."
Gojo, who had reappeared leaning against a tree, grinned wide. "See? I told you two would get along."
Kusakabe groaned. "Don't make this about you."
Arata let a small smile form. "I'm glad. I've learned a lot this week."
Kusakabe nodded seriously. "You've got talent, no doubt. But don't let it get to your head. Even the strongest can die if they are careless."
"I won't," Arata promised.
For the first time, Kusakabe allowed himself a genuine smile. "Good. Then maybe training you won't be such a pain after all."
Gojo clapped his hands. "Group hug?"
"Shut up," Kusakabe and Arata said in unison.
Gojo laughed.