Jujutsu Kaisen: I Can Manipulate Time.

After slaying the Tengu, Kamihara Hajime noticed a change in the feather fan he held. A strange aura surged from within, intensifying the Curse's residual energy. Yet when Hajime tried to wield it, he could only generate a faint, breeze-like attack—nowhere near the destructive gales the Tengu had once conjured.

Of course, Hajime wasn't an expert in Cursed Objects. It would need to be turned over to specialists for proper analysis. As the battle's noise faded, the barrier enclosing the area had long since vanished. Kazuyuki Suzuki stared at the Tengu's broken corpse without a hint of surprise.

"Hajime-san, you've done well. As agreed, along with your compensation, the feather fan is now yours."

Shortly after, their cleanup unit arrived and took the creature's remains. Hajime sheathed Totsuka-no-Tsurugi and stored the fan, turning his gaze to Kazuyuki, who offered his ever-faint, unreadable smile.

Hajime spoke the question on his mind:

"This was a major secret, wasn't it? Why reveal this now? Involving the Zen'in and Kamo clans is one thing, but even reaching out to the Gojo family? You've always excluded them. What are you after?"

The Kamo clan had long been a conservative cornerstone, their involvement expected. The Zen'in clan, due to their rigid customs and past grievances, aligning against the Gojo family was hardly a surprise.

Kazuyuki raised a hand, gesturing toward a sleek black car parked by the road.

"If Hajime-san is curious, I can explain everything in detail."

Hajime narrowed his eyes, smiling.

"Fine. Let's hear it."

Inside the luxurious car, the silent driver pulled away smoothly. Kazuyuki reached into a small cooler and retrieved a bottle of red wine, offering a glass.

"I'm underage," Hajime said flatly. "Japanese law still applies."

Kazuyuki smiled, revealing a lower drawer with assorted non-alcoholic drinks—soda, sparkling water, juice.

"You didn't think we only drank whiskey and wine, did you?"

Ignoring the joke, Hajime grabbed a chilled cola. While Kazuyuki performed an unnecessarily refined wine ritual, Hajime was already halfway through his drink. During the ride, Kazuyuki avoided the main topic, instead talking about mundane events at the Kyoto and Tokyo campuses.

Hajime answered curtly, eyes on the passing scenery. Kazuyuki didn't seem to mind the disinterest, continuing his monologue like it was a one-man show.

Eventually, the car arrived—not at the main building of a high-end hotel, but at a private structure behind it. Five stories tall and surrounded by an expensive, manicured garden, its opulence was subtle but undeniable. After the car stopped, Kazuyuki gestured for Hajime to step out.

As Hajime exited, several elegant women emerged from the building's golden doors, dressed in a variety of high-end fashion, each exuding a carefully polished allure. With trained poise and harmonious voices, they bowed and greeted him. Hajime barely glanced at them.

"Let's not waste time," he said to Kazuyuki. "My schedule isn't empty."

Kazuyuki nodded and clapped lightly. The women bowed again and led the way to a lavishly furnished room. Once inside, Hajime motioned for them to leave. After Kazuyuki nodded, the women gracefully exited, closing the thick, soundproof door behind them.

Kazuyuki poured hot tea and began.

"The process of fusing Cursed Objects with compatible individuals is recent. It has flaws. I'm no technician, but I know the basics. The subject must be willing—otherwise, the success rate plummets."

"Also, the individual must have potential as a sorcerer but lack a Technique. In exchange for the power, they sacrifice most of their lifespan. The soul begins to rot, and death usually follows within years—or months. That's something all Adapters must know."

"Adapter?" Hajime caught the term.

"Yes. Compatibility matters. The closer the match between sorcerer and Cursed Object, the higher the success rate—and the greater the strength retained."

Kazuyuki, though he possessed Cursed Energy, lacked the capacity to become a proper sorcerer. That made sense. If there were no cost, these old men would've used it on themselves long ago.

The drawbacks explained why this method was being revealed now. But Hajime sensed there was more.

Kazuyuki's face grew grim.

"An accident happened days ago. One of our research sites was infiltrated, and several Cursed Objects were stolen."

Hajime leaned back, expression cool.

"And the thieves?"

"No visual confirmation. But based on residual traces, it wasn't a solo job—and they were Curses. As for what was taken... six items. Five aren't critical. But one..."

He paused.

"The sword. An ancient blade, recorded in our history as Totsuka-no-Tsurugi—one of the Three Divine Swords."

"Before this, we couldn't unlock its secrets. Other than being unbreakable, it showed no special effects, and no one was a compatible host. So it was sidelined. We didn't expect it to vanish in the raid."

Kazuyuki clenched his fist.

"They came prepared. Fast. Precise. And if they manage to awaken the Curses within these objects... especially the sword... the consequences will be catastrophic."

Cursed Objects that gained power through fables or myth carried immense destructive potential. If the Curse within that divine sword returned...

If it were any other Curse, the combined strength of elite sorcerers might suffice. But this was different. Even Sukuna, the King of Curses, had a vessel. Gojo Satoru backed Itadori's existence personally. If Totsuka-no-Tsurugi were truly reawakened...

The internal backlash alone could splinter the Jujutsu higher-ups, let alone what the Curse itself could do.

So, the plan began: reveal a secret that was destined to leak, use it as a bargaining chip with the Gojo faction, and cautiously recruit other Special Grades. Yuta Okkotsu was overseas. That left Hajime.

They didn't expect loyalty—just transactional cooperation. Benefits, influence, information. Anything to buy his aid, even if only temporarily.

The Tengu mission had been part field test, part trial balloon.

Once all details were laid bare, Hajime realized the truth. The spellcasters produced were limited in strength. They claimed Grade 1 was the upper limit—but Hajime suspected they could reach higher if conditions aligned.

But between the soul rot and the compatibility conditions, this wasn't a mass production system. It was a way to manufacture short-lived, powerful tools.

And that made it all the more dangerous.

"I'll be going now," Hajime said at last, rising. "No need to see me out."

The afternoon sun bathed the beach in golden light. It should have been peaceful—until a ripple, like a cracked mirror, split the air. Through it walked Suguru Geto, a smug smile on his face.

Nearby, Mahito and Hanami reclined in beach chairs. Mahito perked up.

"Did it work?"

Geto strolled past Jogo, whose grotesque head was still regenerating atop a small body.

"Of course. And we gained more than expected."

He murmured the rest under his breath. Mahito leaned forward.

"Huh? What was that?"

Jogo's head smoldered in frustration.

"So can you use your trump card now? We still only have one Prison Realm—you can't trap both Gojo and that brat."

Geto raised a finger to his lips.

"I never said this was for awakening Him. This is just a key. Maybe only a sliver of the shell can be recreated, but that's enough…"

He stared at the sky, lost in thought.

"Living long enough lets you witness all sorts of wonders. Even with human limits, we've come this far... How fascinating."

Mahito stretched, bored.

"This is gonna take a while, huh? I'm heading out to find something fun. Let me know if anything happens."

As Mahito disappeared into a void doorway, Geto watched, amused.

"With so many variables, this plan might fail... but chaos has its charm. Accidents make life interesting. I'm looking forward to it."

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