Megumi had already experienced the power and intricacies of his cursed technique in ways that most sorcerers would never even dream of. His mastery over the Ten Shadows technique had grown exponentially since he regained his cursed energy, and with that, he had summoned his divine dogs, Kuro and Shiro, into battle. But there were still shadows—other beings of formidable strength—waiting to be unlocked, hidden in his soul and shadows. One such being was the Great Serpent, Orochi.
Orochi was a beast of legend, a snake of colossal size and near-unimaginable strength. Its body, white as bone, stretched far longer than any ordinary serpent, with a tan-yellow underbelly that contrasted starkly against the dark black markings covering its entire form. Its large head bore a symbol on the forehead—a curse-mark of sorts.
Megumi had always known of Orochi's potential. He had glimpsed the serpent's shadows at the edges of his subconscious—untapped, dormant, and waiting for a time when he would need it. And now that time had come.
It was a quiet evening when he finally decided to attempt summoning it. The full moon bathed the world in pale silver light, and the air around him seemed thick with anticipation. He stood in the clearing, surrounded by dense trees, knowing that once he invoked the serpent, the force of its presence would be immense. He would have to be careful.
Megumi stood tall, focusing on his shadow, his right hand poised in front of him. His fingers shaped themselves into the familiar form of a snake-head puppet, the shadow cast by his hand elongating and shifting into a coiled shape. The darkness that was his shadow rippled as the serpentine energy began to manifest.
For a moment, there was nothing—only the faint stir of air and the whispers of cursed energy in the atmosphere. And then, with a rush that felt like the thunderous impact of a storm, the Great Serpent, Orochi, began to unfurl from the shadow.
First came the head—massive, its sharp fangs gleaming as it slithered from the depths of the shadow. Then, the rest of its body followed, stretching out and writhing, its size impossible to comprehend as it coiled around itself, the thick white scales reflecting the moonlight like a river of snow. Black markings streaked across its scales like tattoos, a reminder of the curse and power that ran through it.
Its gaze locked onto Megumi immediately. The serpent's eyes were piercing, slitted like a predator's, filled with a strange mix of intelligence and ferocity. The symbol on its forehead glowed faintly, pulsing with cursed energy that radiated outward.
For a brief moment, Megumi and the serpent stared at each other.
In order to call the serpent into his service, Megumi needed to go through an exorcism ritual—a ritual that would require him to face and defeat Orochi in battle before it could be bound to his will. If Megumi succeeded in defeating the serpent, it would submit to him, becoming one of his shikigami—though not without a deep, innate bond that could not be broken so easily.
Megumi did not flinch. He had expected this. Orochi was no common shikigami—it was a creature of pure curse energy, an entity far stronger than most others Megumi had faced. He knew that his goal was not to simply summon it but to defeat it. The serpent, sensing his presence, raised its massive head, its pupils narrowing into slits. A low, guttural hiss escaped its throat, resonating through the air like thunder.
Megumi clenched his fists, focusing all of his cursed energy into his hands, preparing for the battle ahead. There was no turning back now.
The serpent's massive body coiled in on itself, its tongue flicking out, tasting the air. It charged with lightning speed, its enormous jaws gaping wide as it prepared to strike. Megumi had no intention of dodging. Instead, he shifted his stance, raising his arm in front of him, and summoned the power of his Ten Shadows technique.
In an instant, Kuro and Shiro, his divine dogs, appeared beside him, their forms made of shadows and cursed energy. But Megumi knew that Orochi was not an opponent that could be defeated with simple summons. No, this required more than just the power of his shikigami—it required him to push the limits of his own cursed energy, to show the serpent that he was its master.
As Orochi lunged toward him, Megumi focused his energy into his legs, charging it with a devastating blast of cursed power. With a single fluid motion, he launched himself into the air, evading the serpent's snapping jaws as it collided with the ground below him. Midair, he twisted his body and thrust his fist toward the serpent's head.
The punch landed with a crack of raw energy, and for a moment, Megumi felt the serpent's body recoil from the force. But Orochi was no ordinary beast—it immediately retaliated, snapping its body back, its tail whirling in a devastating arc toward Megumi. He barely managed to dodge, the force of the attack sending a shockwave through the air.
The battle raged on, Megumi using every ounce of his agility and cursed energy to stay ahead of the serpent's powerful strikes. With every movement, the serpent seemed to adapt, learning from Megumi's attacks, growing more vicious and calculated. Megumi knew that in order to win, he needed to be faster, more precise.
Megumi focused, his fingers moving rapidly in intricate shadowgraphic hand signs. The shadows around him seemed to thicken, swirling as the cursed energy inside him surged. He wasn't just summoning another shikigami; he was about to merge his existing Divine Dogs, Kuro and Shiro, into a single, more formidable entity—a new manifestation of his shadows' true potential.
Kuro and Shiro, the black and white divine dogs, melted into each other, their forms distorting and twisting as they fused. The two spirits intertwined, their energies merging in a surge of cursed power. The air crackled with energy, the very ground beneath Megumi's feet vibrating with the force of the transformation. Slowly, from the swirling mass of shadow and cursed energy, a new form began to take shape.
The result was a towering figure—a bi-pedal, bicolored creature that stood before him with immense presence. It had the sleek, muscular build of a werewolf, its body covered in a mix of black and white fur. The creature's eyes glowed with an eerie yellow light, its maw filled with sharp, predatory teeth, and its claws gleamed with the intensity of honed weaponry. It was the Divine Dogs, Totality, a shikigami that was a perfect blend of power, agility, and versatility. The two dogs had fused, combining their traits into something far greater.
Totality was an imposing sight. It was significantly larger than the individual dogs, towering over Megumi with a menacing yet controlled presence. Its body was covered in sleek fur, with the black half of its coat flowing smoothly into the white half, creating a stunning visual effect. The creature's bicolored fur shimmered with energy as it flexed its claws, a perfect fusion of strength and grace. Despite its intimidating size, it moved with remarkable agility, every muscle taut with potential energy.
Totality's claws, capable of tearing through cursed spirits of the highest caliber, gleamed with a dangerous edge. Megumi could feel the power radiating from it, a powerful new asset in his arsenal. The creature was perfectly balanced, able to fight, defend, and support him in any number of situations.
But it wasn't just the physical traits that made this new form so impressive. Totality possessed the combined instincts and abilities of Kuro and Shiro, granting it heightened intelligence, strategic prowess, and an unparalleled ability to react in combat. It could not only engage in close combat with immense speed, but it also had the defensive capabilities to absorb and deflect powerful attacks, as well as the ability to rapidly maneuver across the battlefield.
Megumi's breath slowed as he gazed at the newly formed shikigami. This was the next step in his growth, the embodiment of his mastery over the Ten Shadows technique. As he looked at Totality, he could sense the raw potential within it—this creature could deal with any special grade cursed spirits that stood in his way. It was a being forged through his bond with Kuro and Shiro.
With a subtle motion of his hand, Megumi commanded Totality to take a step forward. The giant creature obeyed without hesitation, moving with remarkable fluidity for its size. Its claws scraped the ground, sending chunks of earth flying as it prepared for whatever challenge lay ahead. Megumi could feel the connection between them, an unspoken understanding. Totality was his now—his shadow, his weapon, his protector.
"Good," Megumi muttered, his voice steady with the satisfaction of knowing that this new power was within his reach. "Let's see how you perform."
He could already feel the creature's presence, its immense energy a constant pulse within the confines of his cursed technique.
The massive werewolf-like figure of Totality radiated confidence, its claws flexing in anticipation, its fur shimmering with cursed energy as it paced alongside Megumi, mirroring his readiness.
The two were a perfectly synchronized team, a partnership forged through shadows and cursed energy, ready to take on the great serpent. They were more than just allies; they were extensions of each other's will, moving as one with every gesture and every command.
As Orochi lunged forward, its jaws opening wide to devour Megumi, Totality's reflexes kicked in. In a flash, it moved between Megumi and the serpent, its claws swiping with devastating speed and precision. The slash was sharp enough to gouge into the massive serpent's scales, leaving deep gashes as blood sprayed from the open wound.
But Megumi wasn't waiting for Totality to take the brunt of the fight. With a smooth motion, he darted forward, Tonfa raised, using his incredible speed to close the distance between himself and the serpent.
The serpent's tail whipped toward him with terrifying speed, but Megumi was faster. He used his cursed energy to enhance his movements, twisting and flipping in the air to narrowly avoid the strike. His Tonfa collided with the serpent's tail, creating a shockwave that sent ripples through the surrounding air. But the beast was relentless. Orochi's body writhed, snapping and lunging in every direction, forcing Megumi to stay on his toes.
Totality was already there, its immense speed allowing it to anticipate the serpent's every move. With each swipe of its claws, it drew more blood from the serpent's body, pushing it back further and further. But it wasn't enough. Orochi was a beast of incredible strength, and its massive form was beginning to overwhelm the two.
"Move!" Megumi shouted, signaling Totality. In a swift motion, he directed his shikigami to dive to the left as the serpent's tail swung down. Totality leaped into the air, narrowly avoiding the blow, while Megumi darted forward once again. His Tonfa moved like an extension of his own body, each swing and strike powered by his cursed energy.
He wasn't just using the Tonfa as a weapon; it was an extension of his own cursed energy, a tool to amplify his technique. He struck out with precision, each blow landing with immense power. His Tonfa slammed into Orochi's side, the impact vibrating through the serpent's scales as it let out a guttural hiss of pain. The serpent was caught off guard, momentarily stunned.
Totality took advantage of the opening, charging forward with a bellowing roar. The werewolf-like shikigami used its immense claws to rake across Orochi's side, slashing through its thick skin like it was paper. With each strike, the serpent recoiled, unable to fully recover from the brutal assault.
But Megumi wasn't satisfied with just a few good hits. Without hesitation, Megumi dashed forward once again, the Tonfa shifted in his grip, becoming an extension of his shadow as he drew all his cursed energy into it. With a burst of speed, he leapt into the air, targeting Orochi's head.
He plunged the Tonfa down, aiming directly for the serpent's skull. His cursed energy surged through the weapon like a jolt of electricity. The Tonfa struck with a deafening crack, sending shockwaves through the serpent's massive frame. The force of the impact caused Orochi to recoil, its body twisting and writhing in pain.
But before Orochi could retaliate, Totality was already there, launching its own attack. The shikigami's claws tore through the air, striking Orochi's underbelly with a devastating series of blows. The beast roared in agony, its body buckling beneath the combined onslaught. Totality leapt back, circling Orochi as Megumi landed gracefully on the ground, his breath steady despite the chaos around him.
The fight had reached a critical moment. Orochi, now wounded and enraged, hissed and lunged at them with an inhuman speed. The serpent's tail slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave through the air that rattled the shrine's foundation.
Megumi, ever the tactician, knew this wasn't the time to be reckless. He called upon Totality once more, commanding it to block Orochi's tail with its massive form. As Totality absorbed the impact, Megumi moved in, focusing his cursed energy into his body. His speed and strength surged, allowing him to deliver a devastating roundhouse kick to Orochi's side. The blow was enough to make the serpent stagger, giving Megumi the opening he needed.
"Now!" Megumi shouted.
With a final, coordinated effort, Megumi and Totality struck as one. Megumi raised his Tonfa high, charging it with cursed energy, while Totality rushed in for a final assault. The shikigami's claws tore into the serpent's face, distracting it long enough for Megumi to plunge his Tonfa into Orochi's throat. The cursed energy that surged through the weapon was enough to shatter the serpent's defenses, ripping through its scales and striking directly at its heart.
Orochi let out a final, defiant roar before collapsing in defeat. The Great Serpent's body crumpled to the ground, its massive form trembling as it slowly dissolved into shadow.
Megumi stood, panting and exhausted, as Totality let out a victorious growl. His heart was still racing, his body aching from the brutal battle, but there was a sense of satisfaction in the air. He had faced a monster of legend, and with the power of his shadows and his trusted shikigami, he had come out victorious.
"Good work," Megumi muttered, his voice soft but filled with pride. Totality gave a low, satisfied bark, its eyes gleaming in the aftermath of the battle.
For now, the fight was over.
He stood amidst the wreckage of the battle, his breath heavy and his body sore from the intense exertion. The ground around him was littered with the remnants of the battle: broken earth, shattered stones, and the fading remnants of Orochi's form dissipating into shadow. Despite the victory, Megumi couldn't help but feel a deep sense of frustration, the sting of fatigue setting in.
"Exorcising Orochi by myself... this is really difficult." He muttered to himself, wiping sweat from his brow as he surveyed the battlefield. His hands were trembling slightly from the sheer amount of cursed energy he had poured into the battle. The Great Serpent had been an immense challenge, far more than he had anticipated. Even with Totality at his side, the fight had pushed him to the limit, both physically and mentally.
Megumi closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his mind to drift back to his previous life. It was a memory that he had not often recalled, but the details were still so vivid, etched into his mind as if they had just happened.
The first time he had summoned Orochi, the Great Serpent, was a moment of uncertainty and adrenaline. He had been younger then, still under the guidance of Gojo-sensei, who had always been there to ensure Megumi's success. But unlike this time, where Megumi had been forced to rely solely on his own strength, his previous self had never been left to face the beast alone. Gojo-sensei had made sure of that.
The ritual had been set up in a secluded area, far away from the prying eyes of others, with only Gojo-sensei overseeing the process. A series of intricate hand signs, shadow-graphic puppets in the air, and the recitation of powerful exorcism mantras—all had been part of the process. When Megumi had shaped his hands to form the sign of the Great Serpent, the beast's essence began to manifest, swirling from the shadows into physical form. It was the same colossal, sinuous creature, its massive body coiling and undulating with immense strength.
However, Megumi was not alone in this confrontation. Gojo-sensei, ever the confident and enigmatic figure, stood to the side, his expression calm as always. He hadn't even raised a finger, yet Megumi could feel the overwhelming presence of his teacher's cursed energy filling the space around them. Gojo-sensei's aura had been like an invisible force, exerting control over the environment without ever having to speak.
Before the battle even began, Gojo-sensei had handed Megumi several expensive and powerful cursed tools—artifacts crafted with the finest materials, imbued with potent curses meant to counteract the strength of powerful spirits. There were knives that could slice through cursed energy as easily as paper, talismans that could block spiritual attacks, and scrolls that summoned fire or lightning to strike at their enemies. Gojo had explained it all with his usual nonchalance, as if this was just another training exercise.
"Use these tools wisely, Megumi," Gojo had said, his smile almost mischievous. "These are your best chance to deal with Orochi."
Megumi had nodded, understanding the weight of the tools in his hands, though the pressure was still immense. It wasn't just about defeating the serpent—it was about proving to himself that he could handle such an overwhelming force. With a deep breath, Megumi had summoned all of his courage and directed his focus on the beast before him.
The battle had been a flurry of action, with Orochi's immense size and speed making it difficult to keep up. But the cursed tools made all the difference. Megumi used them with precision, his sword swiping through the air, deflecting attacks, while the knives and talismans he wielded rained down on the serpent, each blow weakening it just a little more. Gojo had watched without a word, his gaze unwavering, occasionally offering a comment or a suggestion, but never intervening.
With every strike, Megumi felt the beast's power wane, until finally, Orochi's resistance was spent. The Great Serpent, now on the verge of collapse, had been brought to its knees.
With a surge of determination, Megumi had unleashed the final blow. Using a combination of the cursed tools and his own cursed energy, he had struck Orochi in a precise spot, disabling it completely. The serpent's form had shuddered violently before it dissipated into shadow, its power fading away into the void. At that moment, Megumi had felt the familiar weight of the binding ritual complete itself.
Orochi had been his.
The shikigami had submitted to him, now bound by Megumi's will. It had become one of his most powerful tools, a creature that could be summoned at his command—another ally in his arsenal, ready to fight by his side whenever necessary. But the key difference between this moment and the one he now faced was the ease of it all.
Megumi had been surrounded by his teacher's support. Gojo-sensei had provided the tools, the guidance, and even the protection, ensuring that the process went smoothly. The exorcism itself had been a means to an end, but the real work had been Gojo's subtle influence behind the scenes.
Now, standing alone in his second life, Megumi realized just how different the circumstances were. He had no Gojo-sensei to back him up, no arsenal of powerful cursed tools waiting in the wings. All he had was his own strength, his cursed energy, and his bond with his shikigami. The task was far more difficult this time, and he couldn't help but feel the weight of the responsibility settling on his shoulders once more.
"It was so much easier back then," he thought bitterly, his hand gripping his Tonfa tightly as he surveyed the battlefield. "With Gojo-sensei's help, it all felt like a breeze."
—————
After a long, grueling battle and an exhausting few minutes of rest, Megumi stood up with a renewed sense of purpose. His muscles ached, and his mind felt foggy from the intensity of the previous fight, but he knew what needed to be done. He had spent the last few days before the battle, reflecting, both on the battle with Orochi and on the potential ways the battle could go. Orochi was undoubtedly one of his most powerful shikigami, but what truly made it invaluable was its versatility.
It has the ability to merge with almost all of his shikigami. Megumi's fingers tightened around his Tonfa as he prepared himself for what was to come.
Taking a deep breath, he gathered his focus. His cursed energy pulsed within him, a steady, rhythmic flow that felt like a deep current. With a swift motion, he formed the hand signs, his fingers moving through the shadow-graphic symbols that summoned his shikigami into existence.
First came Shiro. The white dog, her form sleek and powerful, her fur shining in the moonlight. Then Kuro, the dark, imposing figure of the black dog, his eyes glowing with intelligence. Both had become integral parts of his arsenal—loyal and capable, with their combined might providing him with support in nearly every battle. And then, with a single gesture, Megumi summoned Orochi.
The Great Serpent coiled before him, massive and serpentine, its body shining with a strange, ethereal glow. Its enormous fangs reflecting the faintest light. The symbol on its forehead seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as though it was an ancient being with knowledge that reached far beyond the mortal realm. Megumi felt the power of the beast surge within him as it fully manifested, its presence filling the space around them.
But this time, he wasn't planning on leaving the serpent in its usual state. Megumi had a vision—a plan that required all of his shikigami to work together in a way they never had before.
He began the ritual, a mixture of both concentration and intent. The process was delicate and complex, involving both his cursed energy and the shadows of his shikigami, each one moving with a precision that only years of training could have ingrained in him. Shiro, Kuro, and Orochi weren't just individual beings. They were extensions of his will, tools he wielded with great care and precision. Now, he was preparing to fuse them together, creating a new form, a new being that would be even more powerful than the sum of its parts.
The ritual was intense. He could feel the pressure building in the air as the cursed energy poured into each of the shikigami. Shiro and Kuro, the Divine Dogs, shifted their forms slightly, their shapes becoming more fluid, more adaptable, as they merged with the serpentine energy that Orochi radiated. It was a seamless integration of power, their individual abilities combining in a harmonic resonance. Orochi's massive form seemed to absorb the presence of the dogs, its own body growing in size and shifting shape as the fusion took place.
It was a spectacular sight—Kuro and Shiro's divine features blending seamlessly with Orochi's massive serpentine body, creating a new, hybrid form that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The creature before Megumi was something out of a myth—a monstrous chimera that towered over him. It was a towering, bi-pedal beast, easily as big as a two-story house. Its body was primarily that of a massive serpent, long and powerful, coiled with immense muscle, yet it had the sleek, black and white fur of the Divine Dogs running across its upper body, forming a bipedal structure that was almost humanoid in stature. The heads of Kuro and Shiro sat atop the creature's body, their eyes glowing with fierce intelligence, their jaws capable of unleashing devastating power.
But what truly made the creature an abomination of power was the addition of Orochi's traits—its massive, coiling snake tails, slithering and shifting behind the chimera like a fearsome display of raw strength. These tails were thick and powerful, covered in scales that shimmered in the light, and each one ended in sharp, deadly tips that could lash out with tremendous force. The creature was like a living weapon, a force of nature made flesh, and it stood as a testament to the fusion of power between the Divine Dogs and the Great Serpent.
Its massive size made it a terrifying sight, towering over Megumi, but it also moved with incredible agility, its muscular legs coiled like springs as it shifted its weight and stood ready for anything. The creature's eyes were filled with intelligence, a mix of Kuro and Shiro's loyalty, and Orochi's ancient, unyielding power. It was a beast that could fight with precision and speed while possessing overwhelming strength.
It was a chimera of pure strength, speed, and intelligence, built for battle and capable of wreaking havoc on anything that stood in its way. As it stood before Megumi, it seemed almost to radiate power, its presence commanding respect and fear in equal measure. The air around it seemed to vibrate with energy, and Megumi felt his heart race a little as he observed the full scale of what he had created. It was a new being altogether, a creature that surpassed the individual strengths of its components.
The question that lingered in his mind, though, was what he should name it. He had always been careful when naming his shikigami—each one had a name that reflected their nature and their purpose. The Divine Dogs were simply named Kuro and Shiro, but this fusion—this new being—deserved something special, something that conveyed both its power and the ancient heritage of its parts.
He mulled over the possibilities, thinking about what this creature represented. It was a mix of loyalty—represented by the Divine Dogs—and primal, destructive force, embodied in Orochi. But more than that, it was a creature of balance. It wasn't just about brute strength or intelligence; it was the perfect blend of both, capable of attacking, defending, and supporting in equal measure.
After a long moment of thought, Megumi decided.
"Taiju," he murmured to himself. "Taiju… the Great Beast."
The name felt right. It had the weight of tradition, while also carrying a cool and regal ring to it. In Japanese, Taiju could mean "great beast," but it also invoked the idea of something grand and ancient—something legendary. It was a name that would carry the weight of the beast's power, but also the respect Megumi had for it.
With a small nod of satisfaction, he looked up at Taiju, who seemed to sense the significance of the name. The creature's large, glowing eyes locked onto Megumi with an almost approving gaze, as if acknowledging its new identity.
"You're Taiju now," Megumi said aloud, his voice steady but filled with pride. "Let's see what you can do."
The creature responded with a low, rumbling growl that echoed in the quiet surroundings, its massive body shifting slightly, as though ready to prove its power. Its heads of Kuro and Shiro seemed to nod in unison, while its long snake tails flicked behind it, as if it were eager to begin its first real test.
Megumi smiled slightly, his hand tightening around his Tonfa as he prepared to move. Naming Taiju was just the beginning. Now, he had to guide this new shikigami, train it, and find out just how far it could go.
"Alright, Taiju," Megumi said, as he began to step forward. "Let's see how much power we can really unleash together."
———————
A day after the exorcism ritual, Megumi finally made up his mind about which middle school to enroll in. For a while, he had entertained the idea of attending a school outside the city—somewhere with dorms that would allow him to focus on his studies and personal growth. But as he thought about it more, the idea became less appealing. Moving away would mean that any practice related to sorcery would require extra effort, careful planning, and secrecy. He would have to hide his abilities, taking precautions before doing anything that might attract unwanted attention.
Living in the countryside, however, had its advantages. There, if he wanted to train his sorcery, all he had to do was head up to the back mountain, a place where no one ever went. It was the perfect spot—isolated and far enough from prying eyes. But if he moved to the city, he wasn't so sure he'd be able to find a place like that.
After weighing all his options, Megumi realized that the best choice was to stick with the middle school that most of his classmates were attending. It was an ordinary middle school, nothing extraordinary or glamorous, but it would allow him to keep things simple. He could blend in with his peers, navigate his daily life without drawing too much attention to himself, and still find a way to practice his sorcery in peace. It wasn't the most exciting choice, but it felt like the safest and most practical one.
He told his parents about his decision to enroll in the middle school and signed all the necessary forms. With everything sorted on his end, he left the rest of the arrangements to them. He knew they would take care of the details, from submitting the paperwork to handling any other logistics.
With that out of the way, Megumi made his way to the back mountain once again. The familiar path felt both calming and invigorating, as he knew it was the one place where he could train without worrying about prying eyes. Once he arrived at his usual spot, he summoned Kuro and Shiro, his trusted familiars, to scan the area.
"Kuro, Shiro, check the surroundings," Megumi instructed. His eyes scanned the dense trees and quiet trails, but he trusted the two creatures more than anyone else to make sure there was no one nearby.
Kuro darted off into the shadows, while Shiro took a more cautious approach, sniffing the air and surveying the ground. Megumi stood still, his senses heightened, waiting for any sign that the place was disturbed. It was rare for anyone to venture this far into the mountains, but he wasn't taking any chances. He needed this place to be safe for his training.
After a while, Kuro and Shiro returned, both signaling that the area was clear. Kuro gave a low, contented bark while Shiro wagged her tail, both indicating that no one was nearby. Megumi relaxed, a small smile crossing his face as he crouched down to give them both a quick pet.
"Good job," he murmured, gently running his hand over Kuro's sleek black fur and then reaching out to scratch behind Shiro's ears. They leaned into his touch, clearly pleased with the attention. With the area secure, Megumi stood up and took a deep breath.
He focused for a moment, willing the small bell that Shira had given him to appear. With a subtle shift in his concentration, the bell materialized from the shadow beneath his feet, its delicate form emerging like a wisp of smoke. He quickly reached down, grasping it in his hand, feeling the cool metal against his palm. Without hesitation, he rang the bell.
The soft, melodic sound echoed through the quiet mountain air, a soothing but purposeful tone. Megumi's expression remained focused as he listened intently, waiting for the effect he knew would come.
In less than ten seconds, Shira appeared in front of him, materializing from a wisp of smoke. She regarded him with a calm yet slightly curious expression. "You don't seem to be in an emergency. Why did you call me?" she asked, her voice as soft and steady as ever. But he knew that there was a hint of irritation in her voice.
"I just wanted to show you something," Megumi replied, his tone calm but with a hint of anticipation. Shira raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What is it that you want to show me?"
Megumi gave a small nod, signaling her to wait. "Just give me a moment."
As Megumi focused, he recalled the chant, a simple yet powerful incantation that would bring forth the barrier he intended to show Shira. His hands moved instinctively through the familiar hand signs, the gestures precise and practiced, but there was a slight hesitation as he realized just how much more effort it required in this world compared to his past life. In his previous life, summoning such a barrier would have been second nature, effortless even. But here, without the support of Tengen-sama's barrier, he had to go through all the steps—hand signs, chanting, and the careful manipulation of his cursed energy.
He took a steadying breath and began the chant, his voice steady but low, as the power began to build around him.
"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."
As the final syllable left his mouth, the air around him shifted. Slowly, a dark, liquid-like substance began to drip from the sky, almost like ink falling from an unseen source. The droplets formed a thick, viscous substance, gathering together as they spiraled down. The ground beneath his feet seemed to pulse as the outer shell of the barrier began to form, a dome-shaped barrier that rose up, slowly taking shape, like a dark half-sphere that seemed to swallow the light.
The barrier solidified, the smooth, dark surface shimmering slightly as if it held an endless depth, hiding whatever was inside from view. Megumi exhaled, the process taking more out of him than he expected. His focus remained sharp as he waited for Shira's reaction.
"This is Curtain," he explained, his voice almost reverberating through the thick barrier that surrounded them. "It's a defensive technique—a barrier that hides everything within it from the outside world."
Megumi heard Shira scoff quietly under her breath, the sound almost dismissive. "I see what you're doing," she said, her tone a mix of amusement and mild irritation. With a careless gesture of her hand, she glanced at him and asked, "What do you want?"
Megumi took a moment to gather his thoughts, his gaze steady as he met Shira's eyes. "In the past few days that you've been gone," he began, his voice calm but carrying the weight of his words, "I've been conflicted about whether to trust my gut or my emotions about the information you gave me." He paused, the uncertainty in his mind still lingering. "You've always seemed to be monitored, and I've been hesitant to ask you anything directly. I wasn't sure what I could say or what might get us into trouble."
He let out a quiet breath, his shoulders shifting slightly as he continued, "So, after a few days of training and trying to focus, I finally managed to get this barrier down to a tee." His hand subtly motioned toward the dark dome surrounding them, the barrier now solid and secure.
Megumi heard Shira let out an incredulous laugh, the sound sharp and laced with disbelief. "A few days," she repeated, as if the concept itself was absurd. "Not even a month or a week, and you managed to do this? What a monster."
The last part, spoken under her breath, was probably meant to be inaudible to him, but Megumi caught it nonetheless. He let the words hang in the air for a moment, his expression unchanged. He could have acknowledged it, reacted to it, but instead, he chose to act as if he hadn't heard the muttered comment.
Megumi's gaze hardened, the weight of his thoughts pressing on him. He took a deep breath before asking, his voice steady but laced with a hint of uncertainty, "Can I really trust you? Is the information about the goddess preparing for my sacrifice true?"
Shira didn't flinch at his directness. She stood still for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. "All of it is true," she answered, her tone unyielding. "I didn't lie to you."
She tilted her head slightly, her voice almost challenging as she added, "Have I ever lied to you?"
Megumi hesitated, the question hanging in the air. He thought back on their interactions, the subtle games she played, the half-truths, the careful wording. After a moment, he replied, "No, not directly."
Megumi's eyes locked onto Shira's, his expression unwavering as he asked, "Three years ago, when all those cursed spirits attacked me, you were actually the one behind it, weren't you? You said you didn't join, but it was actually because you were the one who instigated it, right?"
The air between them grew still, the tension thick as Shira remained silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Megumi's words hung in the air, a direct accusation that left no room for ambiguity.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shira let out a quiet sigh, her lips curving into a faint, almost resigned smile. "You got me," she replied, her voice almost casual, as if admitting her involvement was no more than a passing observation. The honesty in her words was almost unsettling, and Megumi could feel the weight of the revelation settle on his shoulders.
Shira's gaze remained fixed on him as she spoke, her voice almost cold with indifference. "The original plan was to have you struggle until the brink of death. Then, I would swoop in and save you. After that, you'd be so grateful, you'd be willing to worship the goddess I've been working for. And when the time comes, you will be sacrificed, willingly, and ascend to godhood."
Her words were matter-of-fact, as if she were recounting a simple, well-laid-out plan, but the coldness in her voice made it all the more chilling. Megumi stood still, processing her confession, his mind racing. But before Megumi could fully process her words, Shira interrupted his thoughts. "But I didn't expect that you would be able to win. Nobody did. Because of that, I began to have hopes for you. Hope that you would be different." She paused, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. "Even now, I can tell that compared to other humans, you're already like a demigod."
The weight of her words hit him, and for a moment, he stood in stunned silence. Her admission was both unsettling and strangely flattering.
Shira's gaze softened slightly, though her tone remained steady. "That's why you could trust me. I also want this cycle to end."
Megumi felt a sharp pang of confusion at her mention of the "cycle." The term felt foreign, like there was something important he was missing, but before he could voice his thoughts or question her, she continued, her words almost a challenge.
"I will even make a vow if you don't believe me."
"Alright then," Megumi said, his voice steady despite the weight of the situation. He was ready for the truth, even if it meant facing whatever came with it. But Shira's expression shifted slightly, her eyes narrowing as she added, "I have a condition."
Megumi raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What condition?"
Her response came without hesitation, but her tone carried an edge. "In exchange for me telling you everything, you also have to tell me everything."
The words hung in the air, and Megumi felt a momentary hesitation creep in. The offer was tempting, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to lay everything bare to her. He weighed the decision in silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts.
After a long pause, he finally nodded, his resolve firm. "Fine. I agree."
As soon as the words left Megumi's mouth, he felt it—the familiar, almost suffocating pressure of the binding vow wrapping around him once again. It was a sensation he had experienced before, like invisible chains tightening, binding him to his word. The weight of the promise settled heavily on his chest, but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. There was a strange sense of nostalgia in the feeling, a reminder of the past, and he couldn't help but acknowledge it.
Shira, noticing his reaction, teased him lightly. "You remember this feeling, don't you? It's almost like old times."
Megumi chuckled, his mood light despite the gravity of the situation. "Yeah, I remember. It's a bit nostalgic, I guess."
He didn't let the moment weigh him down, choosing instead to respond in a good-natured way. There was something almost comforting about the familiar bond, even if it tied him to Shira once again. The deal was struck, and now they were both bound by it.
Shira crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she gave Megumi a knowing look. "You said you'd tell me everything, so go ahead. Start first."
Megumi raised an eyebrow, surprised by her bluntness. "Why me? You're the one who made the condition. Shouldn't you go first?"
She scoffed lightly, her posture casual as if the decision were obvious. "I'm not the only one bound by this vow. You are in this too." She gestured toward the invisible chains, her smirk widening. "It's only fair if you go first. Besides, you owe me the truth, don't you?"
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, a little frustrated by the turn of events. "You've got a point, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable with it." He glanced at her, trying to read her expression. There was a glint in her eyes, a challenge he wasn't sure he wanted to face.
Shira tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering across her face. "Oh? You think I'm going to bite your head off for telling me your secrets?" She stepped closer, her voice lowering in a teasing whisper. "You already know I'm not that interested in your boring little human life, Megumi. But I'll take whatever you decide to share. Just make it good."
Megumi gave her a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by her casual attitude. "I'm not some open book you can skim through whenever you feel like it."
"Is that so?" She raised an eyebrow, her tone taking on a mock-serious note. "Then why did you agree to this vow, hmm? Don't tell me you didn't expect to have to spill a little of your soul."
A beat of silence passed between them as Megumi processed her words. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the way she seemed to enjoy watching him squirm. He was getting the distinct impression that she was having far too much fun with this whole situation. After a few moments of back-and-forth silence, he finally sighed, letting the frustration ebb out of him. "Fine, fine. I'll go first."
Shira smiled, her expression both satisfied and slightly amused. "I never said you had to do it willingly. Just start."
Megumi took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "Alright. Here goes." He paused, thinking back to the beginning, to the path he had walked, to the secrets that had shaped him.
"I'm not who I seem to be," he continued, his voice steady but laced with the weight of the truth he was about to reveal. "I'm actually a being who has reincarnated, with memories from my past life."
Shira didn't immediately react, and for a moment, Megumi wondered if she had even processed what he said. But then she blinked, her eyes narrowing as if trying to make sense of his words. Finally, she spoke, her tone almost incredulous.
"What?" she asked, her voice sharp. "Reincarnated? What are you talking about?"
Megumi met her gaze, unwavering. "Exactly what I said. I've lived before. My memories from that life... they've stayed with me, and they've shaped who I am now. Everything I've done, everything I know, is because of that life."
Shira tilted her head, clearly caught off guard by the admission. "You're telling me you're not just some regular human? You've lived before? In a different life?" She paused, her expression skeptical, yet there was a hint of curiosity in her voice now. "And you remember all of it?"
"Yes," Megumi said quietly, his eyes momentarily distant as he recalled fragments of his past life. "I remember enough to know that I've been through a lot more than I should have for someone my age. And it's because of that life that I can do what I do now."
Shira stayed silent for a moment, her gaze focused on him, her usual teasing demeanor replaced with something more contemplative. It was clear that she hadn't expected this revelation, and Megumi could almost see her mind working as she processed the information. Finally, she let out a small sigh. "Well... that explains a lot," she murmured, as if she was beginning to piece together the puzzle.
Megumi took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing. "In my past life, I had the same name—Fushiguro Megumi. The only difference was my family name. I was technically part of the Zenin clan, one of the three most powerful families in the Jujutsu world." He glanced at Shira, noting the slight shift in her expression as she processed his words.
He paused for a moment, gathering the weight of his memories before continuing. "I have the Zenin clan prized cursed technique. I had the Ten Shadows technique, a powerful cursed technique that allows the user to summon and control ten shikigami—spirits that obey my every command. In that life, I was expected to inherit that power, to lead the Jujutsu world. I was groomed for it, even though I didn't want it."
Shira's expression remained unreadable, but he could see the faint flicker of interest in her eyes, like she was trying to connect the dots of his past.
"But then, things didn't go as planned. I died," he said quietly, his voice tinged with an emotion he didn't often show. "And when I reincarnated, I was born as someone else—an ordinary kid from the ordinary Kurosawa family. No connections to the Jujutsu world. No connection to centuries old secrets. Just another face in the crowd."
He glanced at Shira, his gaze unwavering, and continued, "But the Ten Shadows technique, it stayed with me. Even though I'm not part of the Zenin family anymore, I still have the cursed technique. I can still summon and control the shikigami, and that's why I'm different. That's why I'm not like other humans."
Shira was silent for a moment, her eyes studying him carefully. Megumi felt the weight of her gaze, but he didn't look away. He had told her the truth, and now he was waiting for her to react. Finally, she spoke, her tone thoughtful. "So, you're telling me that everything—the strength, the power, the way you can do things no one else can—is all because of your past life?" She seemed to be processing the idea, a mix of disbelief and curiosity lacing her words.
Megumi nodded. "Exactly. I don't fully understand why I was reincarnated, or why I still have my cursed technique. But I know that I can't ignore it. I can't deny that it's a part of me."
Shira's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Fushiguro Megumi, huh?" She leaned back, almost as if the idea amused her. "The wielder of the Ten Shadows, a powerful cursed technique of a centuries old family... and now you're just a kid in a new life, trying to figure it all out."
Megumi couldn't help but let out a small, dry chuckle. "Yeah, something like that."
Shira's gaze softened, and for the first time, there was a genuine understanding in her eyes. "You've been through more than most people could ever imagine. And yet, here you are, still standing."
He nodded again, more to himself than to her. "Still standing."
Shira looked at Megumi, her curiosity clearly piqued. "Would you mind telling me more about your previous life?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost as if she was asking a genuine question rather than issuing a demand. Megumi hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't mind," he said, his voice steady. "But it's a long story. You might want to sit down."
Shira raised an eyebrow but obliged, settling herself comfortably on the ground, her posture relaxed but attentive. Megumi took a breath, preparing to tell the story that had shaped him into who he was now. The story of his past life. He began, his tone almost distant as he recalled the details. "I was born on December 22, 2002, in a world much like this one. In my past life, my name was Fushiguro Megumi, just like now. But everything else was different."
He paused for a moment, his eyes reflecting the weight of his memories. "When I was in elementary school, my father married Tsumiki's mother. I had an older sister, Tsumiki, who... well, she was the closest thing I had to family in that life. We weren't related by blood, but she was always there, and that bond meant a lot."
Shira listened intently, her gaze fixed on him as if she were reading the pages of his past. Megumi continued, his voice steady despite the painful memories.
"Our parents abandoned us when we were still young, and that's when everything started to change. In their absence, Gojo Satoru stepped in. He wasn't just any teacher—he was a force to be reckoned with. The strongest you could even say. He had connections, resources, and power that no one else had. And he decided to take Tsumiki and me in, not in the way the Zenin clan would have wanted, but in a way that was different."
He paused again, trying to find the right words. "Instead of sending me to the Zenin family to inherit their legacy, Gojo-sensei arranged for me and Tsumiki to be supported by the college that he was studying in. It was a much different path than the one I was supposed to walk, but it was one that allowed us to have a chance at a different life—one where we could choose our own futures. Not bound by the bloodlines or the legacy of the Zenin clan."
Shira's expression remained unreadable, but her eyes were sharp with interest as she absorbed the details of his story. Megumi didn't rush, allowing the weight of the past to settle in the silence between them.
"I wasn't meant to be in control of my own life," Megumi continued, "but somehow, Gojo-sensei gave me a chance to have a different future—one that wasn't dictated by the Zenin family or the cursed techniques that had been passed down through generations. Instead, he gave me a path where I could forge my own way forward, even if it meant stepping away from everything I had known."
Shira finally spoke, her voice thoughtful. "So, instead of becoming the heir to the Zenin clan, you were given the freedom to choose. But even so, that power—those memories—never really left you, did they?"
Megumi met her gaze, a faint nod signaling his understanding. "No, it didn't. No matter how much I tried to move forward, the memories of my past life, and the power I carried with it, always remained." He sighed, a small, almost bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's a gift and a curse, all at once."
Shira stayed silent, seemingly lost in thought. The weight of his words lingered in the air, heavy and palpable. And Megumi, though reluctant to dwell on the past, knew that sharing it with her was necessary. It was part of the truth he had promised to tell.
Megumi let out a small sigh, his eyes drifting momentarily as he recalled the years that followed. "As I grew older, I focused on training my sorcery. It was a mix of instinct and guidance—learning the craft, honing my skills, but mostly just... surviving. And sometimes, Gojo-sensei would step in to help. His teachings were a bit unconventional, but he always tried to make sure I was prepared for whatever was coming."
He chuckled softly, a bitter edge to the sound. "Though, 'tried' is the keyword here. He wasn't exactly around all the time. Being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in existence and the head of the Gojo clan doesn't leave a lot of room for personal time, let alone acting as a father figure. But he did what he could, especially when it came to Tsumiki and me."
Megumi's eyes softened as he thought of his sister—her bright smile, her infectious energy before the darkness of their world began to overshadow it. "Tsumiki and I... we were both orphans. After our parents left us, Gojo-sensei tried his best to step in. He did everything he could to be there for us, to give us some kind of stability. He wasn't perfect, though, and sometimes, I think he pushed himself too hard. He wanted to be the father we never had, but being the strongest meant he was always in high demand—always fighting battles, dealing with the endless pressure of being the Gojo clan's leader. So, there were times when we barely saw him, and I understood why."
His tone became quieter, more reflective, as he looked down at his hands, as if remembering the moments when he would sit with Tsumiki in silence, both of them waiting for their guardian to return.
"Gojo-sensei was... complex. He wanted to give us a sense of safety, to teach us how to survive in a world full of curses and danger. But at the same time, his life was so consumed by his position, his responsibilities. He'd try to show up for us, even if it was just for a brief moment, but it was never enough. He would talk about how much he wanted to see us happy, to see us thrive. And for a while, I believed him. But he always seemed so distant, caught between his role and his desire to care for us. Sometimes, I wondered if he even knew how to balance the two."
He paused, his gaze hardening slightly. "Gojo-sensei wasn't the kind of person you could rely on for emotional support. He had his own struggles, his own battles to fight. But he did care. I think he truly did. It just wasn't always clear in the way he showed it."
Shira, who had been listening intently, didn't say anything for a moment. She could sense the unspoken complexity in Megumi's words—the conflicted feelings he had toward Gojo Satoru, the longing for something more, and the acceptance of the reality he lived in. Finally, Shira broke the silence. "Sounds like he tried, even if he wasn't able to fully be there. He gave you what he could, and that's... something."
Megumi nodded slowly, as if weighing her words. "Yeah... I guess so. In his own way, he did the best he could. But there's always this sense of unfinished business with him. Like there was something he never truly managed to give us." His expression softened again, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the cracks. "Maybe that's why I have a hard time trusting people, to rely on anyone. I was always left to figure things out on my own. Even with Tsumiki, it was hard sometimes."
He fell quiet again, his thoughts drifting back to the long nights spent training alone, pushing his limits, learning more about his cursed technique—the Ten Shadows technique—and the heavy weight it carried.
"Still," he muttered after a beat, "those years weren't completely wasted. I learned a lot. Gojo-sensei made sure I didn't forget what mattered. It was just... hard sometimes, you know?"
Shira gave him a long, measured look. "I get it," she said, her voice softer than usual. "Not every mentor can be what you need them to be. But that doesn't mean they don't care. And it doesn't mean the lessons they teach are any less important."
Megumi didn't respond right away, his thoughts tangled between gratitude and resentment. There was so much he still had to process, and even now, telling someone else about his past felt like trying to untangle a knot that had been tied far too tightly.
Megumi's voice grew heavier as he continued, the memories flowing more freely now. "As I got older, I started to care less and less about being a sorcerer. At first, I was indifferent to it, but eventually, I became jaded. I didn't see the point of it anymore. I didn't want to become a tool, fighting for some higher purpose I didn't even believe in. All this talk about saving people, protecting the world... I couldn't see myself in that picture. I didn't think I was cut out to be a hero."
He paused, reflecting on how far his mindset had shifted over time. "By the time I reached middle school, that attitude had fully taken hold. I didn't care about being a jujutsu sorcerer. In fact, I thought the whole thing was pointless. I didn't see why I should put my life on the line for strangers, especially when I wasn't even sure if I had a purpose beyond getting by. I didn't think I was a 'savior' or someone worthy of such a title. And honestly, the more I learned about the world of jujutsu, the more disillusioned I became."
Shira, who had been silently listening, raised an eyebrow. "So you didn't care about being a sorcerer anymore? You wanted nothing to do with it?"
Megumi nodded, his eyes darkening as he remembered his teenage years. "Exactly. I was disconnected from it all. And people… they just seemed so complicated. I figured the best way to deal with them was to keep my distance. I saw human interaction as just an exchange of dignity. If you didn't violate someone else's dignity, they wouldn't bother you. That was my rule. That's why I didn't care about making friends. I didn't need them. I just wanted to keep my peace and avoid being dragged into any mess."
He leaned back slightly, his voice becoming more detached as he spoke about his school days. "I guess, at the time, I had no real connection to anyone. So when the bullies at school started running their mouths, ignoring that basic rule, I took it into my own hands to shut them down. I didn't care about being a good student or making a good impression—if someone tried to step on someone else's dignity just to feed their ego, I'd make sure they learned their lesson. I ended up being known as the biggest troublemaker in school."
Shira chuckled darkly, her expression a mix of amusement and understanding. "Sounds like you had a bit of a reputation, huh?"
Megumi smiled wryly, his gaze distant. "Yeah, you could say that. I wasn't interested in making friends, so I didn't care what people thought of me. But Tsumiki… she didn't like it. She didn't want me getting into fights all the time. She hated seeing me get hurt or causing trouble, but I ignored her. I wrote her off, thinking it was just her being... well, her. I figured she didn't understand the way I saw things."
His smile faded, replaced by a bitter edge. "Looking back, I can see she just wanted to help me, but I wasn't willing to listen. I pushed her away. I didn't care. I didn't care about much of anything anymore."
Shira remained silent for a moment, the weight of Megumi's words hanging in the air. When she spoke, her tone was quieter, but there was a hint of something softer beneath it. "So, you distanced yourself from everyone. Even Tsumiki?"
Megumi nodded slowly, the ache of those memories becoming more palpable. "Yeah. I couldn't let anyone in. I was too caught up in my own bitterness, my own belief that nothing mattered. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I didn't want to get close to anyone, either. And I certainly didn't want anyone trying to 'save' me."
He paused, feeling the sting of regret mix with the clarity of hindsight. "Tsumiki… she always wanted to help. She wanted me to stop getting in trouble, to stop fighting, but I couldn't let go of that anger. I couldn't let go of that distance I'd put between myself and the world. And for a while, that was enough. It was easier that way."
Shira was quiet for a moment longer, as if contemplating the change in Megumi. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer but tinged with an understanding that seemed to transcend his bitterness. "It sounds like you were trying to protect yourself. But somewhere along the way, you forgot that sometimes, you don't have to do everything alone."
Megumi met her gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and resignation. "I didn't know how to let anyone in. And I didn't want to." He let out a long sigh, the weight of everything he had just shared sinking in. "But that was my reality back then. I was angry. Jaded. Alone."
Shira gave a slight nod, her gaze softening. Megumi stopped for a moment. He already realized a long time ago of how much he had bottled up over the years. But the words, though heavy, felt strangely freeing.
Megumi's tone grew more somber as he continued. "I've always hated bad people with unearned pride—those who feel like they can do whatever they want just because they're in a position of power or influence. But I hated just as much the good people who were too merciful toward them. They think they can save everyone, that they can change people with kindness alone. And I didn't believe in that."
He paused, reflecting on his past views, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. "Tsumiki was a perfect example of what I considered a 'good person.' She was kind, selfless, always wanting to see the good in people. And every time I hurt someone who deserved it, she'd scold me, saying I was no better than the people I was trying to fight against. She'd always talk about forgiveness, trying to convince me that there was a better way to handle things. But I never agreed with her. It annoyed me, honestly. I couldn't understand why she kept pushing for mercy. In my mind, some people just didn't deserve it. And her constant scolding… it just made me more stubborn, more convinced that my way was the right one."
A flicker of pain passed through his eyes as he remembered how they would clash, Tsumiki always trying to reach him, trying to pull him back from his bitterness and anger. He continued, his voice quieter now, weighed down by the memory. "But everything changed when she was cursed. When she fell into that unending sleep, I realized how much I'd been fooling myself. I realized how wrong I was."
Megumi's gaze dropped to the ground, his words heavy with regret. "I had been so focused on my own pride, my own stubbornness, that I didn't see the truth. Tsumiki wasn't just protecting herself or others—she was trying to protect me, too. She believed that my lack of forgiveness was somehow a way of showing kindness. She thought that if I showed mercy, it would make me a better person, that it would keep me from losing my humanity."
He let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of those realizations. "But I was too blind to see it. And after she was cursed, after she was taken from me, I was filled with nothing but regret. I regretted every time I ignored her. Every time I pushed her away or argued with her. I regretted the times I chose to be stubborn and hateful instead of listening to her. I realized then that I had been acting like a child—immature, caught in my own world of anger and pride. I couldn't save her, and I couldn't do anything to fix the mistakes I'd made. And it hit me harder than anything else: I needed to change."
His eyes lifted, looking distant and unfocused as if trying to grasp something beyond the present. "That's when I realized I had to become a sorcerer. Not for some grand purpose, not to save the world, but to save her. To be strong enough to protect the people I care about. To protect the ones I've lost. And to never again be so blind to the kindness in others. It wasn't about fighting curses or battling evil anymore. It was about making sure I didn't lose any more of the people I loved."
There was a long silence before he spoke again, his voice quieter but determined. "That was the turning point for me. It's why I'm doing this. I won't make the same mistakes again."
Megumi took another deep breath, the memories of his past life still fresh in his mind as he continued. "After middle school, I graduated and made the decision to enroll at the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Or as it's more commonly called, Jujutsu High." He gave a small, wry smile at the simplicity of the name compared to the formal title. "It was a place where I could start over, where I could learn and train as a jujutsu sorcerer—become someone who could actually make a difference. I didn't want to stay in the shadows anymore, hiding from everything, and Jujutsu High felt like the place where I could start doing something meaningful."
He paused, his eyes drifting slightly as he recalled the other option that had been available to him. "There was another school, Kyoto Prefectural Jujutsu High, but I didn't even consider it. The influence of the three great families—Zenin, Kamo, and Gojo—was too strong there. Especially the Zenin clan." His tone darkened for a brief moment. "They had too much control over everything. The politics, the power struggles… it wasn't a place I wanted to be. Even though I was technically the heir to the Zenin clan, I never felt welcome. Their way of thinking, their obsession with bloodlines and prestige—it didn't sit right with me. I didn't belong there."
Megumi's hands clenched briefly before he relaxed them again. "Jujutsu High in Tokyo, though, was different. It wasn't about family ties or bloodlines. It was a place where someone like me could find his place. Even though I didn't have any grand ambitions, it felt like my best shot at doing something useful, something real. It felt like the first real step in moving forward."
His gaze sharpened as he recalled the first days at Jujutsu High, the uncertainty mixed with determination. "At first, I didn't know exactly what I was getting myself into. I had no idea how complex the world of jujutsu sorcery really was, or how dangerous it could be. But I knew I had to keep going, no matter what. Tsumiki's curse was still on my mind, and the regret of my past still gnawed at me. I couldn't afford to waste time."
He looked over at Shira, his expression serious. "And that's where everything changed. That's where I met the people who would shape the rest of my path."
Megumi's gaze turned distant as he recalled the first person who truly left an impact on him at Jujutsu High. "The first person I met, or rather, the first senior I encountered was Maki Zenin." He paused for a moment, as if weighing how to describe her. "Technically, she's my cousin, but I didn't really know her that well growing up. The Zenin clan… well, they were always too busy with their power struggles. The only time I ever saw her was when the clan decided to have one of their petty pissing contests. You know, those times when they show off their strength or test each other's limits. But aside from those few interactions, I didn't really know her at all."
He shrugged slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought. "But when I got to Jujutsu High and started seeing things for myself, I began to understand her more. It wasn't until I spent time with her that I realized there was a lot more to Maki than the Zenin name. She wasn't like the others in that family. She didn't care for their status or their traditions. She was different—stronger, more independent. And that made me respect her."
Megumi's expression softened just a little as he spoke about her, a rare hint of admiration in his voice. "Maki was one of the few people who didn't let her circumstances define her. And getting to know her was the first step in understanding that not everything in this world was about bloodlines or the expectations of others. She had her own path, and she was going to walk it, no matter what the Zenin clan thought of her."
Megumi's expression softened as he spoke of another one of his classmates. "Then there's Inumaki Toge," he said, a hint of respect in his voice. "At first, he gives off this impression of being quiet, aloof, and distant. He doesn't say much, and when he does, it's usually in these weird, short phrases like 'salmon,' 'tuna,' or 'wasabi.' It makes him seem kind of mysterious or hard to approach. I know even Yuta, another of my senior, after spending a couple of months with him, still didn't really understand him. Honestly, I didn't either, at first."
He paused, thinking back to when he first met Toge and how their relationship had evolved. "But the more time I spent around him, the more I realized Toge's not what he seems. He's actually a lot more insightful and caring than anyone gives him credit for. He understands people in ways that most others don't. And that comes from his intelligence—not just in how he uses his cursed technique, but in how he reads people and situations. He's aware of the dangers his power poses, which is why he doesn't speak normally."
Megumi's voice softened, his tone more understanding now. "Toge's cursed speech is one of the most powerful techniques, and he knows just how dangerous it can be. He could tell you to do something, and you'd be compelled to obey. It's a power that could easily hurt or even kill someone if he's not careful. So, he chooses to speak in a way that makes it harder to understand him—using rice ball ingredients instead of normal words. It's a little strange, but it's the only way he can protect the people around him from accidentally using his power."
He shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It might be frustrating to communicate with him at first, but those of us who are close to him? We've learned to understand the code. We know what Toge's really saying, even if it's hidden behind rice ball ingredients. And through all of that, you can see just how much he cares. He's not as distant as he seems—he just wants to protect others in his own way."
Megumi looked thoughtful for a moment, as if remembering the quiet moments shared with Toge. "In the end, Toge's someone who makes you realize that sometimes, the quietest people are the ones who care the most."
Megumi's gaze grew thoughtful as he spoke about the person he respected the most. "And then there's Okkotsu Yuta," he said, his voice carrying a weight of admiration. "Yuta's… different. I mean, when I first met him, he was just this shy, unsure kid, overwhelmed by everything happening around him. But what struck me the most wasn't just his power—it was his heart."
He paused, reflecting on his first impressions of Yuta. "Yuta has one of the most terrifying cursed techniques I've ever seen. Rika, the cursed spirit tied to him, is a monster. The sheer destructive power she has is unmatched. But despite all that, Yuta doesn't use her power recklessly. He's always trying to keep control, trying to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone. I've never met someone who is so burdened by their own power, yet so determined to protect those around them."
Megumi let out a deep breath, remembering Yuta's struggle to understand his place in the jujutsu world. "At first, Yuta didn't really believe in himself. He thought of himself as a monster, a danger to everyone. But over time, he grew. He started understanding the value of his strength and how he could use it to protect others. It wasn't easy for him, but he made the decision to fight, to stand up for what's right. And that's something I've always respected about him."
His eyes grew more intense, as if the respect he held for Yuta ran deep within him. "What's even more impressive is that Yuta doesn't do it for glory or recognition. He doesn't care about becoming the strongest or being praised. He's fighting because he doesn't want anyone else to go through the pain and loss he's experienced. He's driven by something deeper—by love, by the desire to protect the people he cares about, and by the promise he made to Rika."
Megumi's expression softened, a rare moment of vulnerability showing through. "To me, Yuta represents everything I want to be. He's not perfect, but he has something that I've always admired: a pure heart, even in the face of darkness. He's the kind of person who reminds me that there's more to being a sorcerer than just power. It's about why you fight, who you fight for, and what you're willing to sacrifice for those you care about."
A small smile flickered on Megumi's face as he finished, his respect for Yuta unmistakable. "I've learned a lot from him. And I'll keep learning."
Megumi scratched the back of his head, clearly a bit awkward as he tried to figure out how to explain Panda. "Then there's Panda-senpai," he said, his tone flat. A beat of silence passed, and Megumi felt the weight of Shira's expectant gaze on him. He sighed. "Look, he's just… a panda."
Shira raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "A panda? Are you not going to elaborate at all?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Megumi shrugged. "I mean, what more do you want me to say? He's literally a panda." He paused for a moment, as if considering if there was more to say. "Okay, fine. He's a cursed corpse, technically. But he looks like a panda. He talks like a person. And he's got, like, a really good sense of humor, surprisingly."
Shira blinked. "A cursed corpse… that's a panda." Her voice was slow, as if trying to process the absurdity of it. "And you're telling me that's all there is to him?"
Megumi nodded seriously. "Pretty much. Honestly, it's not even the weirdest thing I've encountered."
Shira let out a long sigh, obviously struggling to suppress a laugh. "I should've known. Only you would hang out with a panda who's actually a cursed corpse and think it's normal."
Megumi shrugged again. "He's strong, okay? And I can't say no to someone who can throw me across the room and make it look like nothing."
Shira burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. A panda with a sense of humor and the strength to throw you around like a ragdoll. I get it. Still can't believe this is your 'senpai.'"
Megumi rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I get it. It's ridiculous. But trust me, Panda-senpai's cool. He's one of the few people who doesn't take life too seriously."
Shira looked at him skeptically. "I suppose you've got a panda and a cursed corpse as your mentor. You really know how to surround yourself with the strangest company."
Megumi smirked, a rare spark of amusement in his eyes. "Well, if you think about it, it makes perfect sense. You can't exactly expect me to stick with normal people, can you?"
Megumi's expression softened as he thought about his friends. "Yeah, they're all a bit strange, aren't they?" he said, his voice quieter now. "But… they all have a kind heart. Even if it's not always obvious at first, they're the type of people who'll step up when it matters. They all have their own ways of showing it, but when it comes down to it, they're willing to fight for others. That's what makes them different."
He paused, reflecting on his words. "Maki, with all her pride and anger, still wants to be the best, not for herself, but for her own sense of freedom. Toge, who hides behind his speech, still manages to care deeply about the people he protects. Yuta, who's been through more than anyone should have to, uses his power to save others, even if it means risking his own peace."
He looked up at Shira, his gaze steady. "And Panda… well, he's a panda. But he's loyal, and he always has your back when you need it. It's easy to forget that kindness can come in different forms, but it's there in all of them. They've all shown me that strength doesn't just come from power—it comes from what you're willing to protect."
Shira stayed silent for a moment, her eyes slightly narrowed as if thinking it over. Then, with a small grin, she replied, "I guess I can't argue with that. Strange company, indeed. But if you've got a good heart, I suppose that makes you worth keeping around."
Megumi let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, guess so." He glanced down at his hands, feeling the weight of his words. "I never thought I'd say this, but… I'm glad I've got people like them around."