Right. Sure.

A first-year who had only been enrolled for a few months. Provisionally rated Grade 2.

Very normal.

Normal my ass!

What kind of Grade 2 sorcerer at any school looked like that?

Kusakabe’s face stayed calm. On the outside, he looked like a respectable senior quietly digesting his junior’s answer.

On the inside, the man was screaming so hard his soul was probably hoarse.

The worst part was what he realized after replaying the fight from start to finish.

Touma had not gone all out.

Aside from that weird burst of speed at the very end, the kid had been controlling the whole pace. Comfortably, too. Like he was doing warm-ups.

You’re telling me this thing can pin a Grade 1 swordsman to the ground, steal his signature techniques like party favors, and he’s rated Grade 2? Are the old fossils in the Grading Department blind? Collectively? As a hobby?

A long, dead-tired sigh slipped out of him.

Today had not just beaten his body. It had dragged his intelligence and dignity facedown through the dirt.

Mei Mei’s instructions had been simple enough. "Go scare an arrogant new student. Spar with him. Teach him some humility."

Somehow, by the end, the roles had completely flipped. It looked more like the monster named Touma Hayase had paid good money to rent a premium human punching bag, and the punching bag happened to come bundled with a high-level skill package.

If Kusakabe had known this job included blood loss and a full collapse of his sanity, he would not have accepted so quickly.

Still, his hand drifted to his pocket.

The one comfort he had left was this: Mei Mei really did pay well. If he calculated the fee by the ten or so minutes the whole thing lasted, the hourly rate was disgusting. Hard to say no to.

Ignoring the small detail that it had cost him his pride and nearly his life, everything else was... fine.

One thing still bothered him, though.

If Tokyo Jujutsu High had produced a freak like this, someone who could copy Reverse Cursed Technique and New Shadow Style almost flawlessly, why was the kid basically unknown in the jujutsu world?

It was not that "being able to use Reverse Cursed Technique on others" was unimpressive. Of course it was impressive. But compared to that healer talent, the combat sense Touma had just shown was terrifying. His close-quarters pressure alone should have made him famous ten times over.

Whatever. Not my problem.

Kusakabe shook his head. He was too drained to think about whatever political mess was keeping the kid hidden.

Being unknown works for me, actually. Fewer people means fewer chances anyone hears that a dignified Grade 1 sorcerer got humiliated by a first-year today. As long as I keep quiet and the kid keeps quiet, my reputation lives.

Right as he was desperately trying to patch his mental state back together, urgent footsteps pounded in from the edge of the training ground.

Masamichi Yaga had been in his office when he sensed it.

Two sharp, violent waves of cursed energy had collided near the training field. The output was so intense that the barrier signatures were practically canceling each other out. Thinking something had gone horribly wrong, he dropped everything and ran.

What he found nearly stopped his heart.

How long has it been? Half an hour? Less?

The center of the training field was ruined. The ground had been smashed beyond recognition. Worse, both Touma and Kusakabe were drenched head to toe in alarming amounts of red.

What kind of sparring match was this?

This was a blood feud.

"You two!"

Yaga crossed the remaining distance in three huge strides. His stern face, half-hidden behind dark sunglasses, was tight with shock. He grabbed Touma by the shoulders and looked him up and down.

"What in the world did you...?!"

Before he could finish, before he could even get out how did you get hurt this badly, Touma spoke first.

"I’m fine, Mr. Yaga."

He gestured at himself. His clothes were soaked in blood and torn in a dozen places, but beneath every rip, the skin was smooth and untouched. His tone was as calm as if he had just finished morning stretches.

"I already handled the initial treatment with Reverse Cursed Technique for both of us. Could you stay here and keep Mr. Kusakabe company for a moment? I need to get something from the workshop. I’ll be right back."

He did not wait for permission. He just turned and headed toward his personal cursed tool workshop, walking steadily, like none of this was strange.

Yaga stood there and stared at his bloodstained back.

Then he turned.

Kusakabe was slumped on a bench, equally covered in blood, wearing the empty stare of a man whose soul had briefly left his body and was still deciding whether to come back.

Yaga’s brow tightened.

His teacher instincts kicked in first. He stepped over, looming over Kusakabe, and his voice came out sharp.

"Kusakabe. I don’t know what happened in the last ten minutes, but against a first-year who only just enrolled, don’t you think you went too far?"

"...?"

Kusakabe had only just managed to breathe properly again. Now he froze.

His brain crashed.

Too far?

Who?

Me? You’re talking about me?

His eyes bulged. One trembling finger rose to point at his own face, which was doing its best to broadcast innocence, disbelief, and betrayal all at once. He looked down at his trench coat, slashed to ribbons, then back at Yaga’s expression.

That expression clearly said, You bullied a child.

A stampede of profanity charged through Kusakabe’s skull.

I’m the victim here! Your precious student nearly took my head off! The blood on his clothes is from wounds he tanked on purpose, but the blood on my clothes is from him actually cutting me!

His mouth opened.

He wanted to scream his innocence to the sky.

But the memory of that final ghost-like slash flashed through his mind. Right after it came his solemn vow to protect what little dignity he had left.

So he swallowed every complaint.

What came out instead was a smile so miserable it was almost worse than crying.

"Ah... yes. You’re right, Mr. Yaga. I... got carried away."

A short while later, Touma came back from the workshop.

He was holding a plain paper box. He walked straight to the bench and placed it in Kusakabe’s hands.

Kusakabe looked at the box, then at Touma, honestly confused.

"What’s this? Compensation for the medical bills?"

He opened the flap while he spoke.

Inside was not a rare cursed tool or a stack of cash. It was a plush doll, small and carefully made.

But Kusakabe was still a Grade 1 sorcerer. His instincts would not let him write it off as a child’s toy.

The moment his fingers touched it, he felt the cursed energy inside. Gentle, steady, and tightly compressed deep in the doll’s core.

"A Cursed Corpse...?"

He lifted it out and studied Touma with growing confusion.

"This is high-end work. Why give it to me?"

Touma looked quietly at the doll.

If anyone there had known the future, they would have recognized it at once. It was nearly identical to the Cursed Corpse that, in the simulated timeline, had stayed beside Kusakabe’s young nephew, Takeru.

Only this one was a little smaller.

Touma lowered his lashes. When he spoke, his voice was warm and unhurried.

"It’s something I worked on in my spare time. A special Cursed Corpse that detects dangerous cursed energy fluctuations nearby and gives some defensive protection at critical moments."

He paused, then added, "You came all the way here today for an intense sparring session, Mr. Kusakabe. I’m sure it took a lot out of you. I don’t have much to offer in return, so please take this as a small thank-you. Keep it at home. Think of it as a good-luck charm."

After the earlier shock of hearing I did not even need to use my real cards, Kusakabe did not take this as a jab.

He did not think Touma was calling him weak, or saying he needed a Cursed Corpse to protect himself.

The kid was blunt, yes. Painfully blunt. But this was sincere.

"A defensive Cursed Corpse, huh..."

Kusakabe looked down at the round little doll in his hands.

If it was for himself, he probably did not need it. A Grade 1 sorcerer should not need something like this for basic protection.

But then his younger sister’s face surfaced in his mind.

She was pregnant.

If I gave this to her... as a charm against small curses during the pregnancy...

That would actually be a thoughtful gift.

An expensive one, too.

The stiffness in his face finally eased. He stopped trying to refuse and carefully placed the Cursed Corpse back in its box.

"In that case, I won’t be shy. Thanks."