Jujutsu Kaisen: Cursed Times

"Yuta, it's your turn."

Gojo Satoru gestured casually at Yuta Okkotsu. Beside him, Panda—still dragging a half-conscious Shingen Genichi across the grass—pumped his fists and called out, "Yuta, go for it! Take down Gojo-sensei!"

Yuta gripped the wooden sword in his hand, shoulders a little tense. Panda's cheer earned a nervous laugh from him. He'd just watched Gojo swat Shingen through a pseudo-Black Flash. Facing him now felt like running headfirst into a thunderstorm with a paper umbrella.

But—do your best! That much, he could do.

Cursed Energy flared around Yuta Okkotsu. It swelled, dark and vast—then, just as quickly, it contracted, pulled tight to his body under his control. Gojo raised an eyebrow. Impressive. That wasn't Rika's doing. That level of energy… it was Yuta. Maybe it was never that he was cursed by Rika. Maybe he was the one who cursed her.

Exhaling deeply, Yuta steadied his breath. The wooden sword in his hand hummed softly as he burst forward, leaving a faint afterimage in his wake. The blade arced toward Gojo's face.

But Gojo's form vanished.

"There it is—Gojo-sensei's flicker," Panda muttered knowingly.

Yuta didn't hesitate. He pivoted, spinning mid-swing—just in time to catch Gojo appearing behind him. The sword swiped through air, and Gojo leaned back with ease.

"You're getting better," Gojo said with a smirk. "A lot more lively than before. You're really my student now."

Yuta pressed the attack, chaining together swings. Gojo dodged with dance-like ease, then slipped his leg forward in a quick trip. Yuta went down, rolled, and came back to a half-crouch, sword raised again.

A feint, then another charge—his Cursed Energy surged with his motion. The sword slashed toward Gojo's shoulder with conviction.

Clap.

Gojo caught the blade with both hands, firmly stopping it mid-air.

"Yuta, I told you to treat me like an enemy," he said coolly. "You're hesitating again. If this were real, you'd be dead."

Then—wham!—Gojo's foot caught Yuta in the stomach, launching him across the field.

He landed hard but got up just as fast.

"Again!" Gojo called cheerfully.

…

The "training" lasted all afternoon.

Gojo Satoru turned into a relentless machine: one-on-one battles, team battles, speed drills, endurance breaks. By the end, everyone was sore, bruised, and emotionally devastated.

Even Ieiri Shoko, who had come to supervise, couldn't help but complain. "You know I've patched these kids up three times already, right?"

But Gojo, of course, was dead serious beneath that grin.

"The situation's escalating," he said, low and grim. "There's a noticeable uptick in Curses. Grade 1s and 2s are increasing across the country. Even Special Grade traces have been confirmed."

His smile faded for a moment. He didn't mention it aloud, but he knew what it felt like—the pressure before a storm. A shadow building on the horizon.

Shoko glanced at him. Even her usually unreadable face seemed slightly uneasy.

Gojo stood, clapped his hands, and summoned the group together again. "The world's changing fast. It's going to be up to you lot to carry the torch. Train hard now—so you can stand beside us, not just behind us."

And just like that, another round of Gojo Satoru Love-Fist Special Training commenced.

Shingen Genichi took full advantage of the opportunity. With Gojo's Six Eyes to give frame-perfect feedback, he made significant progress with his Time Wheel Reversal technique.

He also made a discovery.

When he used Reversal on himself, his physical state—including injuries, fatigue, and Cursed Energy levels—would revert to the chosen moment. In short, it was like reloading a save file.

"Reloading. That's exactly what it is!" he thought, excited.

But—there was a catch.

His mind didn't reset. After repeated self-Reversals, his brain started to fry—nausea, disorientation, blurred thought. Like layers of consciousness misaligned. Overuse left him dizzy and exhausted.

Even with Shoko's help, that mental fatigue didn't go away easily.

So no, he couldn't just "infinite loop" his way through fights. Not yet. Unless… maybe if he mastered Reverse Cursed Technique? Combine it with Reversal for a no-penalty loop?

A tantalizing idea. But for now, just a theory.

Gojo's training stopped the next day—he had official matters to attend to. As he left, he made a show of dabbing at imaginary tears. "I know you're all devastated that your beloved teacher must go... But fear not! When I return, I'll have even better training planned!"

"NO!!" came the collective wail.

Unfazed, Gojo waved and disappeared. And honestly, though his teaching style was more "learn or get punched," it was effective. Facing an overwhelming opponent without risking death? Priceless.

Days passed.

During that time, Shingen Genichi met two upperclassmen who had temporarily returned to Tokyo Jujutsu High.

One was a man named Kinji Hakari. Muscular, tall, and sporting slicked-back hair, he looked like a fight-club boss. Add the square jaw, the scruffy beard, and the shaved lines through both eyebrows, and you had someone who looked more yakuza than student.

The other was Kirara Hoshi. Despite being confirmed male, his fashion-forward style and sharp presence gave a unique androgynous charm. He had a short crop of dark hair, facial piercings, and galaxy-shaped pupils with starburst tattoos around his eyes.

They didn't interact much. Hakari seemed grumpy about the exchange event and waved them off after a brief greeting.

Then, the day before the big event arrived.

Kyoto Jujutsu High had arrived at Tokyo campus.

Because Tokyo won the previous year, the venue rotated to them. Everyone gathered in the main meeting room. On one side sat the students and principal of Kyoto Jujutsu High; on the other, Tokyo's group with Gojo Satoru at the lead.

The principal from Kyoto was… a sight to behold.

An elderly man in flowing white robes, holding a cane, with the longest white eyebrows anyone had ever seen. His beard dangled to his chest. His eyebrows drooped down to his cheeks like hanging threads. Shingen Genichi could hardly believe they were real.

Tokyo's representative was Gojo. Kyoto's was a shrine maiden-like woman with a long scar across her cheek and nose—Utahime Iori. Gojo greeted her like a giddy child. She looked like she wanted to slap him.

Shingen Genichi ignored their bickering. His eyes locked on a bob-cut girl across the room. There was something too familiar about her.

She was… Maki?

No. Similar, but not the same.

He nudged Panda. "Hey, uh… That girl. She's a Maki clone, right?"

Panda nodded slowly.

Maki, now visibly twitching, snapped, "She's my twin sister. Zen'in Mai. Now shut up before I kill you both."

"Ohhh…" Genichi and Panda chorused softly, very much afraid.

Meanwhile, Yuta leaned over and whispered, "Guys… Shouldn't we be more worried about that robot? And that huge guy who hasn't stopped glaring at us?"

Shingen looked. Sure enough, among Kyoto's six students were:

A robot in uniform. Like an armored puppet with a cursed core.

A boulder of a man with a jagged scar down his temple, hair tied in spikes, and biceps that strained against his uniform.

A calm, handsome man with narrowed eyes and traditional grace. He radiated high pedigree—a clan heir, maybe?

Mai, the Maki-lookalike.

A polite girl with long blue hair who had already smiled back at Genichi.

A tiny, golden-haired girl with twin drills and a broom—was she cosplaying a witch?

Then came introductions.

Principal Yaga stood and said, "We've agreed to follow last year's format. Everyone, please introduce yourselves. You may be future comrades on the battlefield."

The blue-haired girl stood first. "Miwa Kasumi, Kyoto first-year. Please take care of me!"

Then the tiny blonde spoke up. "Momo Nishimiya, second-year."

The robot: "Ultimate Mechamaru, first-year."

Then Mai, with a smirk: "Zen'in Mai. First-year. Oh? Did my sister never mention me? How sad." There was no sadness in her voice—just mockery.

The calm man stepped forward: "Kamo Noritoshi. Second-year. A pleasure."

Shingen perked up. Kamo? One of the Big Three Families. This just got interesting.

Tokyo's team introduced themselves in turn—Yuta, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki (who naturally said only: "Salmon").

Miwa and Momo were wide-eyed when they saw Panda.

Then came Shingen Genichi's turn.

He had tied his longer gray hair back into a low ponytail, giving him a rough charm. Miwa practically sparkled. Another handsome one! she thought. But Gojo Satoru is still hotter… maybe I can get a selfie!

"My name is Shingen Genichi. First-year. Let's get along."

Finally, the massive, glaring man stepped forward.

"Aoi Todo," he said in a gravelly voice. "Second-year."

Then a pause.

"…You're all first-years?"

He cracked his knuckles, shoulders flexing with the motion.

"Are you looking down on us?"

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