Akira stood there, frozen like a deer in cursed headlights, staring at the shadowy figure stepping out from behind the gates of Jujutsu High. The guy was tall, brooding, with spiky black hair and an expression that screamed "I don't have time for your shit." Megumi Fushiguro, Akira's brain supplied instantly. Potential Man himself. The kid who summons shadow dogs and has more daddy issues than a therapy waiting room.
"Who the hell are you?" Megumi repeated, his voice low and edged with suspicion. His eyes narrowed, scanning Akira like he was sizing up a potential curse. Cursed energy flickered faintly around him, ready to summon if things went south.
Akira kept his cool, flashing a casual smirk despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Easy there, shadow boy. Name's Akira Kurosawa. Not here to cause trouble – unless you count enrolling as trouble." He pulled out the envelope from his pocket, waving it like a white flag. "Got an admission letter from the higher-ups. Special delivery, I guess."
Megumi's gaze flicked to the letter, his posture relaxing just a fraction. He stepped closer, snatching it from Akira's hand with a grunt. Unfolding it, he scanned the contents, his frown deepening at first, then smoothing out into reluctant acceptance. The seal was legit – ROB's handiwork, no doubt. "Higher-ups sending a random transfer student? That's unusual. You don't look like much of a sorcerer."
Akira chuckled inwardly. Oh, if only you knew, Potential Man. I've got cursed energy bubbling like a grade 1, but control? Yeah, that's a work in progress. Out loud, he kept it light. "Looks can be deceiving. I mean, you look like you could use a smile, but here we are."
Megumi shot him a deadpan look, handing the letter back. "Follow me. I'll take you to Principal Yaga. Don't wander off – this place isn't for tourists."
As they walked through the gates, Akira took in the sights: sprawling grounds, ancient buildings humming with residual cursed energy, and that unmistakable vibe of impending doom. Three days before the main timeline kicks off. Yuji's not here yet, Nobara's probably still in the countryside painting her nails with cursed tools. Just me, Megumi, and soon...
A voice boomed from ahead, cheerful and annoyingly confident. "Megumi! Who's the new face? Did you finally make a friend?"
Akira's heart skipped. Gojo Satoru. The Honored One. My GOAT, pre-Kit Kat edition. The white-haired sorcerer sauntered over, blindfold in place, hands in his pockets like he owned the world which, in JJK terms, he kinda did. His presence was overwhelming, cursed energy radiating like a goddamn supernova.
Megumi sighed, clearly used to this. "Gojo-sensei. This is Akira Kurosawa. Transfer student with a letter from the higher-ups."
Gojo tilted his head, his blindfold somehow conveying intense scrutiny. He circled Akira like a shark, humming thoughtfully. "Oh? Interesting. Your cursed energy... it's raw, untamed. On par with a grade 1 sorcerer, I'd say. But control? Sloppy as hell. Like a firehose without a nozzle." He grinned, teeth flashing. "Where'd you come from, kid? You don't feel like the usual clan brat."
Akira met the invisible gaze, sarcasm ready. "Just your average guy who woke up with a knack for this curse bullshit. No clans, no fancy lineage. But hey, if you're offering lessons, I'm all ears – or eyes, since yours are covered."
Gojo laughed, a booming sound that echoed across the grounds. "I like the attitude! Megumi, you could learn a thing or two from this one. Come on, let's get you to Yaga. He'll want to assess if you're worth the hassle."
As they headed toward the main building, that childish voice pinged in Akira's head again. [System notification: New mission, entertainment monkey. Defeat a grade 4 cursed spirit. Reward: Random power-up. Fail, and I'll make your life hilariously miserable. Deadline: Whenever I feel like it, but probably soon. Have fun!]
Akira rolled his eyes mentally. Thanks, ROB. Real helpful timing. Grade 4? That's entry-level fodder, but with my control issues, it might be a sweat. He kept walking, keeping pace with Gojo's long strides. Megumi trailed behind, silent as ever.
The principal's office was tucked away in a traditional wing, all sliding doors and tatami mats. Yaga Masamichi sat behind a desk cluttered with cursed dolls, his burly frame and stern face making him look like a pissed-off teddy bear. He glanced up as they entered, adjusting his sunglasses. "Gojo. What's this?"
"New student, Yaga! Akira Kurosawa, courtesy of the higher-ups. Kid's got potential – cursed energy's no joke, but needs polishing." Gojo plopped down in a chair uninvited, leaving Akira and Megumi standing.
Yaga eyed Akira, his expression unreadable. "Motives, boy. Why are you here? What do you plan to do once you become a sorcerer?"
Akira straightened, channeling his calm demeanor. No whining, no bullshit. "Simple, Principal. I want to get stronger. Defeat curses, protect people from this messed-up world. I've seen enough suffering – real and... well, let's just say I know how bad it can get." Like watching my favorites get frauded left and right, he added silently.
Yaga nodded slowly, seeming satisfied. "Admirable, if genuine. But words are cheap. Enrollment test: Defeat a grade 4 cursed spirit. We'll see if you have what it takes."
Gojo clapped his hands. "Perfect! Let's head to the training grounds. Megumi, you supervise. I'll... observe." His grin suggested he'd intervene only if things got too entertaining.
The training area was a warded courtyard, reinforced barriers shimmering in the air. Yaga released the curse – a grotesque, low-level spirit resembling a bloated, tentacled blob. It wailed, cursed energy pulsing weakly. Grade 4, sure, but still dangerous to a newbie.
Akira stepped forward, feeling his own energy stir chaotically inside him. Okay, calm down. You've got the power, just need to focus. The curse lunged, tentacles whipping like angry noodles.
He dodged the first strike, but barely – his movements were clunky, cursed energy flaring unevenly. "Shit," he muttered, stumbling back. The thing grazed his arm, drawing a shallow cut that burned like hell. This is embarrassing. Come on, Akira, you're not some fodder character.
Keeping his cool, he breathed deep, sarcasm helping steady him. Imagine it's Sukuna – King of Frauds. Nah, too easy. He channeled a burst of energy into his fist, punching forward. It connected, but weakly, only staggering the curse.
The blob retaliated, slamming him to the ground. Pain shot through his ribs, but he rolled away, mind racing. Control it. Feel the flow. Another dodge, then he visualized – like in the manga, shaping the energy. His next punch landed harder, infused with raw power. The curse screeched, part of its form dissipating.
There we go. Akira pressed the advantage, calm washing over him. He weaved between attacks, landing hits that grew more precise. Finally, with a focused surge, he blasted the core – the curse exploded into wisps of energy, exorcised.
Panting, he stood there, blood trickling from his arm. Barely won. But damn, that felt good.
[System: Mission complete! Reward: Intermediate-level cursed energy manipulation. Enjoy the upgrade, host.]
A warm rush flooded Akira's body. Knowledge clicked into place – how to refine, control, shape his energy. It was like flipping a switch; suddenly, he could feel it flowing smoothly, obedient to his will. Holy shit, that's OP. Thanks, ROB, you little bastard.
Yaga watched from the sidelines, arms crossed. "Impressive. You struggled at first, but adapted quickly. Potential's there. You're enrolled as a first-year student. You'll be in class with Fushiguro here. Report tomorrow."
Gojo slapped Akira on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Told you! Kid's a natural. Come on, I'll show you to your dorm. Get some rest – you've got three days before things get really fun."
As they walked to the dorms, Akira flexed his hand, marveling at the control. Three days to prep. Missions incoming, I bet. But first, sleep. This world's no joke.
The room was sparse – bed, desk, window overlooking the grounds. Gojo lingered at the door. "Any questions, new guy?"
Akira smirked. "Just one: When do I get to meet the rest of the fraud squad?"
Gojo laughed, waving as he left. "Soon enough. Sweet dreams!"
Alone, Akira flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Day one down. Let's see what ROB throws next.
[A/N: Drop some stones if you want to see more chapters!]