Naraku was born to a nameless, powerless family with no clan, no reputation, and no future. In the world of jujutsu sorcerers, bloodline was everything—and he was almost nothing. Just a decent cursed technique, no prestigious legacy to carry him forward. As a child, he watched the elite from afar: kids with inherited techniques, with connections, with respect they never earned. He trained harder than any of them, clawed his way up from the dirt, learned to fight dirty, learned to survive in shadows where no one cared if he lived or died.
But no matter how strong he became, no matter how much he bled to get there, the world never looked at him the way they looked at someone with a name like Zenin.
Naoya Zenin was the embodiment of everything he despised—arrogant, pampered, born into power he didn't work for. Cursed technique handed to him. Influence handed to him. Respect handed to him. And despite all that, he walked with pride, sneering down at others, trampling on those below him as if it was his right.
The unfairness burned in Naraku's chest like a curse of its own.
So he made a vow: he would burn down the old bloodlines. Tear apart the illusion of strength built on names and legacy. He would bring ruin to the clans that thought themselves untouchable. He wouldn't just defeat them—he'd disgrace them. And Naoya Zenin? He would be the first.
Not just killed.
Humiliated. Shattered. Dragged into the same mud where the nameless were forced to crawl.
Only then would it feel right.
Naraku inhaled slowly, burying the rage behind a mask of indifference. Now wasn't the time. He turned and began to walk back toward his group, each step measured, every muscle tight with restraint.
That's when Naoya's voice rang out behind him, sharp and venomous.
"Yeah, that's right, commoner. Know your fucking place."
Naraku didn't stop walking—but something shifted. The air around him grew heavier, colder, like a silent warning pulsing from his cursed energy. His fists clenched at his sides, but he kept his pace steady.
From the front, anyone paying attention could see it.
The look in his eyes wasn't just anger—it was raw, undiluted hatred.
Gojo tilted his head slightly, amused, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Did you see his eyes, Naoya? You might wanna be careful. That kid's got the whole revenge arc loading."
Naoya scoffed, his grin widening with mock confidence. "Don't make me laugh. Trash like him can stare all he wants—he'll still die face down in the dirt."
Geto chuckled quietly, arms crossed. "Bold words for someone painting a target on their back."
Naoya's smirk didn't waver. "Let them aim. They'll miss."
…
After a few tense minutes, the students from both schools made their way into the forest. Each team stood at opposite ends of the terrain, completely out of sight from one another, the battlefield stretching wide between them.
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the loudspeaker positioned at the edge of the battlefield — strong, and clear.
"Welcome, students of Tokyo and Kyoto Jujutsu High, to the first day of the annual Sister School Goodwill Event!"
"Today's event will be a Team Battle, held in a designated, cursed spirit-infested area. Your objective is simple:
Exorcise more curses than the opposing team within the allotted time. Victory goes to the school with the highest exorcism count."
"Engagement with opposing students is allowed — but remember, this is not a death match. Injuring is acceptable. Killing is not."
"All participants are expected to showcase teamwork, strategy, and their progress as jujutsu sorcerers. Faculty and supervisors will be monitoring closely, so give it your all — and don't hold back."
A brief pause.
"Let the battle begin. Good luck… and don't die."
…
Meanwhile, within the observation room at Jujutsu High — a high-tech chamber lined with monitors and surrounded by reinforced glass — a number of jujutsu sorcerers had gathered to watch the event unfold in real time. The atmosphere was focused but calm, filled with the quiet hum of equipment and the occasional murmur of conversation.
"Thank you for coming and assisting with forest surveillance, Mei Mei-san," Yaga said, giving her a respectful nod.
Mei Mei, just nineteen and already a renowned Grade 1 sorcerer, stood poised among the faculty. She radiated quiet control, her icy white hair pulled up into a high ponytail, with two razor-straight strands framing her striking face. Her pale, piercing eyes glinted with quiet calculation, and the subtle curve of her lips hinted at a self-assured smile.
Dressed in a sleek black high-collared blouse, cinched with a light gray tie and paired with tailored high-waisted trousers, Mei Mei looked every bit the disciplined, sharp-edged professional she was known to be. Her style, like her cursed technique, was clean, effective, and unflinching.
"Of course," she replied smoothly, adjusting her gloves with a casual elegance. "I'm expecting a very generous paycheck."
She turned her gaze back to the monitors, where live feeds flickered with movement from within the cursed forest.
"After all," she added coolly, "I don't do charity."
Thanks to her Black Bird Manipulation technique, several of her crows soared silently over the battlefield, sharing their vision with her and feeding real-time footage to the room's displays. Every rustle, every cursed spirit encounter — she saw it all, sharp and clear.
Yaga, arms crossed, glanced at her briefly. "Did Utahime come with you?"
Mei Mei shook her head slightly, never taking her eyes off the screen.
"She's on a mission right now," she said simply.
Utahime, just eighteen and already a Second Grade sorcerer, had been shadowing Mei Mei for the past few months — sharpening her skills, gaining field experience. It was part of the preparation period required for her Semi-Grade 1 recommendation. Her absence today wasn't surprising; fieldwork was crucial if she wanted to move up in the jujutsu world.
Mei Mei didn't elaborate. She didn't need to. If Utahime was worth recommending, she'd prove it with action — not words.
…
Deep inside the forest, Naoya strolled behind his group, absentmindedly flipping through a hidden +18 magazine he had tucked into his sleeve. A smirk tugged at his lips, but it quickly vanished as his eyes caught sight of several crows perched unnaturally still on the branches above.
He raised an eyebrow.
That cursed technique… those are no ordinary birds. That's Mei Mei's work, he thought. So she's here too, huh?
Without looking up, he called out casually, "Hey, Gojo. Do you know anything about Mei Mei?"
Gojo turned to him with a raised brow, slightly caught off guard by the sudden question. "Yeah, of course. She's a known sorcerer after all — I've met her a couple times. Why?"
Naoya's asked with curiosity, "Is she from the Gojo clan?"his voice casual — but his mind was racing, recalling vague theories he'd read online in his previous life.
Gojo's usual smirk faded for a second. He stared at Naoya, unsure if he should even answer.
"…Yes," he said finally. "But that was before."
"Before?" Naoya pressed.
Gojo sighed and glanced around. "Just don't go spreading this, alright?" His gaze swept across the group — Naoya, Geto, and Shoko, who had been quietly listening from the side. "The Gojo clan kicked her out when she was younger. Said her cursed technique wasn't strong enough to be worth keeping."
Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Yup," Gojo said, clearly annoyed. "They called her technique weak — all because it didn't fit their precious idea of inherited power. Tch."
Naoya scoffed. "And you're always preaching about how my clan is full of scumbags. What a joke. That's some double standard shit right there."
Gojo frowned but didn't argue. "Her branch of the family… they had their own part to play in how things went down. But I'm not gonna talk too much about it."
He shoved his hands into his pockets, his tone shifting. "Let's just say the Gojo clan hasn't exactly earned their moral high ground either."
…
Elsewhere in the forest, Ren crouched behind a thick tree trunk, He scanned the shadowed terrain, senses tuned to the cursed energy pulsing in the distance.
"They're underestimating us too much," Ren muttered, glancing over his shoulder at his teammates. "If we start clearing curses before they even make a move, we've got a real shot at winning this."
"Wait… where are Hina, Kanzaki, and Naraku?" Haruki asked, frowning as he scanned the foggy trees.
"Huh? They were just here a second ago," Airi said, blinking in confusion.
"Ughh… why'd they have to wander off now?" Ren sighed, rubbing the back of his head in frustration.
…
Meanwhile — on the opposite end of the forest — after asking Gojo about the locations of nearby curses using his Six Eyes, the group had scattered in different directions, ready to hunt. Only Shoko remained by Gojo's side, uninterested in the rush.
Naoya walked casually along a dirt path, flipping through his adult magazine with a bored look. Sunlight filtered through the tall trees, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor. It was quiet… until he noticed a figure standing ahead.
A girl with pink hair.
Hina.
She stood still, not saying a word, her cold gaze fixed on him. Her hand slowly moved to the hilt of her katana.
Without hesitation, she charged forward.
Naoya didn't even bother looking up from his magazine. With a lazy step to the side, he dodged the slash with minimal movement, the blade cutting through the empty air where he'd just been.
"…Tch. So aggressive," he muttered, flipping to the next page. "Can't even enjoy some peace under the sun, without a woman come to ruin it for me"
Hina landed, pivoted smoothly, and slashed again — faster this time, with sharper intent. Her expression hadn't changed.
Naoya finally glanced up, one eyebrow raised. With a bored sigh, he tilted his head just enough for the blade to miss, letting it pass inches from his cheek.
"You're really committed to this silent treatment, huh?" he said, closing the magazine with a soft snap. "Fine. Let's dance."
He tucked the magazine into his back pocket and cracked his knuckles. His cursed energy sparked faintly, barely visible, as if even his power was yawning.
"You got one more try before I get serious," he added with a crooked smirk. "So make it count, pinkie."
Hina knew Naoya was stronge — anyone could feel that just by standing near him — but she hadn't expected the gap to be this wide. His casual dodge, his complete lack of effort… it irritated her more than she let on. Still, her expression didn't change.
"New Shadow Style: Simple Domain," she said calmly.
With a breath, she shifted into a precise stance. A shimmering aura rippled around her as she activated the technique — a perfect 2.5-meter dome of control. Within this range, anything that entered would be met instantly by her blade, her reflexes heightened, attacks instinctive and automatic.
Naoya stopped walking, watching the domain form around her. His expression twisted with faint amusement.
"Oh? A Simple Domain, huh? Cute," he said, voice low and taunting. He casually stepped closer, his foot brushing the edge of the radius. "Let's see if your reflexes can keep up…"