Jujutsu High

One month had passed swiftly, and now Naoya found himself walking through the grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High, one of only two jujutsu educational institutions in Japan dedicated to fostering the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers. The sister school of Kyoto Jujutsu High, Tokyo Jujutsu High was a sprawling campus nestled high in the mountains on the outskirts of Tokyo. Its traditional Japanese architectural style gave it the appearance of a Buddhist temple, a disguise that helped keep its true purpose hidden from the outside world.

The campus was surrounded by dense forests, the towering trees further obscuring its location and adding to the sense of seclusion. As Naoya walked through the grounds, he passed by several statues of deities, shrines, and torii gates, all of which contributed to the school's serene yet mystical atmosphere. The entire property was protected by a powerful barrier maintained by Master Tengen, who resided beneath the school in the Tombs of the Star. This barrier ensured that only those with the proper authorization could enter, making the school a safe haven for sorcerers.

The campus itself was expansive, featuring a variety of facilities designed to support both students and alumni. There were training grounds for honing cursed techniques, courtyards for meditation and reflection, dormitories for students, and classrooms for theoretical study. The school also served as a headquarters for all alumni who had graduated and become full-fledged jujutsu sorcerers. These experienced sorcerers played a crucial role in mentoring the next generation, whether as teachers or by accompanying students on missions.

Even those who weren't strong enough to be considered full-fledged sorcerers had a place at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Weaker sorcerers, known as Windows, or those in supportive roles like Assistant Managers, contributed to the community in their own ways. The school was more than just a training ground—it was a hub for the jujutsu community, providing mediation, general support, education, and shelter to all who needed it.

Naoya entered the principal's hall, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Masamichi Yaga, the principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High.

Yaga was seated at the ground, his large frame hunched over as he sewed what appeared to be a doll—an ugly one, to be specific. The room was cluttered with various cursed tools and half-finished creations, a testament to Yaga's skill as a cursed corpse manipulator.

Naoya didn't bother with formalities. He walked in with his usual air of arrogance, his hands tucked into his sleeves and a bored expression on his face. Yaga glanced up from his work, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Naoya's demeanor.

"Naoya Zenin, is it?" Yaga said, his voice calm but carrying an underlying edge. He set the doll aside and leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Naoya. "No bow, no greeting. Having no respect, huh?"

Naoya smirked, unfazed by Yaga's tone. "Respect is earned, not given," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I'm sure you already know that."

Yaga's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "What's the purpose for you to join Jujutsu High?" he asked, his tone direct and to the point.

Naoya yawned, as if the question bored him. "To waste some time," he answered casually.

Yaga raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. He wanted to hear a more thoughtful answer, something along the lines of wanting to protect the weak or uphold the balance between curses and humans—the kind of answer he had pushed Itadori to give. But Naoya wasn't Itadori. He wasn't here to play by Yaga's rules or meet his expectations.

Naoya knew that Yaga wanted a specific answer, some kind of noble purpose to justify his enrollment. But he didn't care. The Zen'in clan's influence had secured his place at Jujutsu High, regardless of the principal's opinion. Naoya wasn't here to prove himself to Yaga or anyone else. He was here because it suited his goals, and that was all that mattered.

Yaga studied Naoya for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he leaned forward and picked up the doll again. "Fine," he said, his tone resigned. "But don't think for a second that your name will protect you here. At Jujutsu High, you'll be judged by your actions, not your lineage."

Naoya's smirk widened. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Yaga to his work. The principal watched him go, a faint frown on his face. Naoya Zenin was trouble, that much was clear. But whether he would be an asset or a liability remained to be seen.

.......

As Naoya explored the school, his sharp eyes taking in every detail, he unexpectedly came across a figure lounging on a bench, playing with her phone without a care in the world. Her casual demeanor and lack of concern for her surroundings immediately caught his attention. Naoya quickly recognized her from the show—Shoko Ieiri, the school's future medic and one of the few people who would eventually master Reverse Cursed Technique. But for now, she was just a 15-year-old student, like him.

Naoya smirked, his lov-hate relationship with women kicking in almost instinctively. It seemed that his disdain for women was genetic, a trait he had inherited from the original Naoya Zenin. But that didn't stop him from approaching her, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey there," Naoya said, his voice smooth but laced with mockery. "Are you lost?"

Shoko looked up from her phone, her expression calm but slightly annoyed. "Hmm?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Why are you not inside the kitchen?" Naoya continued, his smirk widening as he leaned slightly closer. "Isn't that where you belong?"

Shoko glanced up from her phone, her eyes narrowing slightly as Naoya's sarcasm hung in the air. "Lost? The only thing lost here is your sense of humor," she replied, her tone flat but cutting, before returning to her phone like Naoya was no more interesting than a fly buzzing around.

Naoya's smirk didn't falter. If anything, Shoko's dismissal only fueled his desire to get under her skin. He crossed his arms and tilted his head.

"Oh, come on," he said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "Don't tell me you're one of those modern women who thinks she's too good for the kitchen. What's next? Are you going to tell me you're training to be a sorcerer too?"

Shoko didn't look up from her phone, but her lips twitched slightly, as if she were holding back a retort. "you look like a guy who gets mad when women breathe too loudly."

"But don't worry," he continued, his smirk widening. "I'm sure you'll find your place eventually. Maybe as a janitor? Or a receptionist? You've got the personality for it."

Before Shoko could respond, a new voice cut through the air like a blade. "Hey there, don't you see that you're bothering her?"

????

Naoya turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the newcomer.

Standing tall with messy black hair that fell just past his shoulders, Suguru Geto approached with a calm but firm demeanor. His presence was steady, almost unshakable, and it immediately grated on Naoya's nerves.

"Hmm?" Naoya said, his tone casual but dripping with mockery. "And who are you?"

Geto raised an eyebrow, "Suguru Geto," he said, his voice steady and measured. "And you are?"

"Naoya Zenin," Naoya replied, his smirk returning. "But you can call me 'the guy who doesn't care about your opinion.'"

Geto's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. He crossed his arms, his gaze never leaving Naoya's. "Well, Naoya Zenin," 

"do you want to take this somewhere else? Maybe have a little chat about life?" He gestured vaguely toward the courtyard, his meaning is clear.

Naoya's smirk widened as he locked eyes with Geto. "You're a commoner," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "You might have a decent technique that lets you step into this school, and that's made you think you're something special. But where did you get the confidence to challenge me? The next heir of the Zen'in clan?"

Geto's calm demeanor didn't waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Confidence comes from knowing my own strength," 

Naoya's smirk turned into a grin as he rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck slightly. "Let me humble you real quick," he said, his tone casual but laced with menace. He took a step forward, his cursed energy flaring subtly, like a predator ready to pounce.

But before the tension could escalate further, another voice cut in, smooth and lazy but carrying an undeniable weight.

"I heard that the Zen'in clan are people who pick on the weak all the time. Guess it wasn't a lie."

With his white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a pair of sunglasses perched casually on his nose, Gojo Satoru stood there like he owned the place. His presence was magnetic, instantly shifting the atmosphere. He leaned against a nearby wall, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Who's dumb enough to pick on the strong?" Naoya responded, his tone dripping with sarcasm

????

Geto's expression soured immediately. Veins popped on his forehead as anger overtook him. "Why do both of you think I'm weak?" his cursed energy flaring up as he activated his technique.