Jujutsu Kaisen: Yearning to Become an Immortal God

"Pure White Evil, the one destined to ascend the divine throne... Hmph, these Old Humans really do get it. Mahito, our grand dominion is about to begin here, isn't it? How exciting."

Hanami, standing beside him, was equally full of praise.

Mahito sincerely felt that these intelligent Cursed Spirits had to be mentally young—at most, around the level of human children just entering middle school. Otherwise, there was no way they could honestly say the announcer's lines sounded cool. And yes, whether it was Jogo or Hanami, they truly meant it. Mahito could tell.

Come to think of it, he had never asked how old they actually were. Though they looked mature, they probably were not that old, since they had not even heard of Satoru Gojo. They were truly "country yokai." Yet when Jogo fought Satoru Gojo, he had clearly called him a brat.

Their ages were all messed up, weren't they?

While casually pondering this inconspicuous bit of gossip, Mahito waved a hand. "Then, Jogo, Hanami, I'm going in."

Jogo immediately roared excitedly, "Mahito, the grand dominion of us New Humans begins right here, right now! Let these Old Human monkeys see the strength of New Humans!"

Hanami was not excited. She merely spoke a few steady words.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Jogo, Hanami." Mahito spoke carelessly. "I'll use this match to test this new vessel of mine—the vessel of this Half-Cursed Spirit."

Mahito slowly walked forward through the fighter's entrance.

The announcer's voice remained loud and spirited as he spread his arms and introduced the other contestant. "And the opponent facing Pure White Evil is—"

"An absolute powerhouse, an undefeated legend—Jiro Awasaka!!!"

The crowd in the stands erupted in thunderous cheers. Compared to the unknown Mahito, Jiro Awasaka was the true master of this underground Boxing Arena. The spectators howled with all their might, releasing their deep-seated anticipation for a bloody clash of flesh and bone.

Jiro Awasaka was a burly middle-aged man. His nearly bald head bore a single wisp of hair like a drifting cloud. He had thick brows, a goatee, and large round eyes. He wore a white shirt with a sash wrapped around his waist, and his muscles stretched the fabric so tightly that they seemed ready to burst through at any moment—explosive muscles in the literal sense.

Step by step, he entered the arena through the fighter's entrance, lifted his head, and stared closely at his opponent—the Cursed Spirit who aspired to ascend the divine throne, Mahito.

Within the community of Curse Users, news had spread at some point about a Cursed Spirit born from humanity's hatred of humanity. Every Curse User who learned of this special Cursed Spirit had been forced into a Binding Vow. Even if their mouths were torn apart, they could not reveal the news to Jujutsu Sorcerers, because this Cursed Spirit possessed the power to overturn Jujutsu Society.

This was not a matter of whether it was strong or weak. Its ability was simply too horrifying—it could make humans evolve.

"Evolution—what a desirable word." Evolution—what a terrifying word.

A sorcerer who received evolution would gain tremendous growth in every aspect: Cursed Energy circulation, recovery speed, storage capacity, output, efficiency, and, most importantly for a Jujutsu Sorcerer, understanding of the Cursed Energy Core.

In the most literal sense, they would evolve.

Because of this, countless Curse Users were searching for this special Cursed Spirit, hoping to receive its blessing.

An intelligent Cursed Spirit, a curse born from humanity's hatred and fear of humanity, a Cursed Spirit who desired to ascend the divine throne—

And the King of Curses born in a thousand years—Mahito—now stood before Jiro Awasaka... and honestly, he was disappointed.

Jiro Awasaka could not see the aura of a powerhouse in the person before him.

An experienced veteran could judge an enemy's strength from their stance alone. Jiro Awasaka was exactly that sort of veteran. He had fought and killed too many Jujutsu Sorcerers, enough that he could judge their strength by instinct. Yet even standing before this legendary King of Curses, he could not sense any overwhelming power from his opponent.

This was a young man with shoulder-length white hair hanging loosely around him, as though it had never been groomed. His eyes were lazily narrowed, making him look like a college student who had not woken up yet. His handsome face also carried a trace of impatience, like some poor soul forced to get up in the middle of the night to study.

He was dressed like a college student heading out as well: a white shirt, black trousers, and sneakers.

Jiro Awasaka carefully examined Mahito's eyes. Sure enough, they were different colors, just as the rumors said. But colored contacts were common these days. Heterochromia was hardly anything unusual anymore.

Jiro Awasaka could not imagine that he was the famed King of Curses.

Of course, some lustful wealthy lady might have been drawn to that face. But Jiro Awasaka felt nothing at all. He was only disappointed that the famous Lord of Curses before him was so unremarkable, with none of a powerhouse's "aura."

So Jiro Awasaka naturally asked, "You're Mahito?"

"Hm? You know me?" Mahito asked curiously.

"Your name has been spreading everywhere among Curse Users. Because of the Binding Vow, it hasn't reached the Jujutsu Sorcerers yet, but that's only a matter of time." Jiro Awasaka spoke flatly. "They say you can make humans evolve, turning ordinary people into Jujutsu Sorcerers. And if they are already sorcerers, their evolution is even more significant. I had been looking forward to meeting you, but the moment I saw you, all that expectation vanished. You don't look nearly as powerful as the rumors claim."

Mahito showed no anger at the veiled mockery. Instead, he answered calmly and confidently.

"I was never pursuing strength above all else," he said. "I am merely seeking the path of evolution. Along that road, some Jujutsu Sorcerers came to ask me for help. As test subjects for the road ahead, I was willing to grant them certain abilities. You could call it a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"...You call those seeking evolution from you test subjects?" Jiro Awasaka's eyes widened sharply.

Mahito stuck out his tongue like a child and apologized briskly. "Sorry, I meant... fellow travelers." Jiro Awasaka flew into a rage. "You mere Cursed Spirit—!"

Mahito suddenly raised a finger and lazily wagged it. "No, not a Cursed Spirit. A Half-Cursed Spirit. Haven't you noticed? The audience watching our match, including those ordinary people... they can all see me."

Jiro Awasaka froze. Without showing it, he glanced toward the surrounding stands. Before this, when he heard that a Cursed Spirit would be fighting him, he had assumed it was some cruel joke. The main customers of this underground Boxing Arena were still ordinary people. Curse Users looking to make extra money could fight here too, but the owner had forbidden the use of difficult-to-understand Cursed Techniques.

After all, this was an underground boxing ring. No matter how unusual it was, if its primary customers could not enjoy it, it could not stay in business or make money. So the most basic rule was that the combatants had to fight in a way the audience could both understand and see.

Cursed Spirits were literally products formed from accumulated Cursed Energy, manifestations of curses. Ordinary people could not see curses with the naked eye. So when Jiro Awasaka learned that his opponent was a Cursed Spirit, he had thought he would be performing a solo dance for the ordinary spectators.

Naturally, he had been dissatisfied, but two reasons had brought him into the ring.

The first was, of course, the prize money. If he won, he would receive triple the reward. Even if he lost, he would still be paid normally. He had no complaints about that.

The second was that he had heard the Cursed Spirit was called Mahito, and he wanted to meet him.

And now, at least he no longer needed to worry about looking like a lunatic throwing punches at empty space in the eyes of ordinary people—because everyone could clearly see the Lord of Curses before them!

"What did you do?" Jiro Awasaka did not realize his voice was trembling.

A Cursed Spirit could be seen as something formed by the accumulation and sedimentation of Cursed Energy leaked by humans themselves. Unless an ordinary person possessed the talent to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer, they could not possibly see one.

Yet something invisible was now appearing as something visible. Jiro Awasaka's common sense had been shattered to pieces.

Mahito suddenly opened his lazy eyes. His golden and blue irises shone with dazzling brilliance. He spread his arms as though embracing the world like a god. He was wearing nothing more than a simple white shirt, yet at that moment, Jiro Awasaka truly saw the birth of something divine.

Only then did Jiro Awasaka finally feel Mahito's "aura."

"I have become my complete self," he said. "Haven't you realized it yet? I have already descended—here."

Descended here.

Only gods were worthy of descending.

Jiro Awasaka finally understood why he had felt no aura from Mahito at first. They existed on different planes. It was like a human walking down an asphalt road; even if ants screamed endlessly beside the human's shoes, the human would not spare them a glance.

Ants, naturally, did not qualify as enemies. Jiro Awasaka was now an ant. Mahito was the human.

Jiro Awasaka felt his body and soul tremble. He nearly fled in the next instant, but he did not. Instead, he suddenly wanted to fight this human. Two entirely contradictory emotions, terror and excitement, tangled in his heart. At this moment, he recalled the assassination mission involving Satoru Gojo that he had accepted years ago. It had been far too long since he felt a crisis wrapping around him, as though death would come in the next second. Along with nostalgia came a desire for destruction.

If it were Satoru Gojo, he would already have run away. Satoru Gojo was the kind of existence where, even if every bit of information about him were laid out before you, there would still be nothing you could do.

But Mahito, this King of Curses, was different. Information about him had naturally spread among Curse Users. He possessed the ability to alter human souls. It sounded terrifying at first, but in truth, he could only make changes through physical contact with his hands. As long as one avoided his hands, there was a way to defeat him.

Besides, this was a Boxing Arena, not a fight to the death. He would not go so far as to kill someone.

No, perhaps in his eyes, the question was how to avoid killing me. Because I am an ant!

Jiro Awasaka was so excited he could barely breathe.

Mahito seemed to notice Jiro Awasaka's fervor. He split his lips in a grin, his mouth curving high like a crescent moon in the night, revealing something terrifying and mysterious.

He asked softly, "Mr. Awasaka, would you like to try?"

Jiro Awasaka instinctively asked, "Try what?" "Challenge a god."

Mahito lowered the arms that had been embracing the world and extended one hand toward him. His four fingers curled casually, as though supporting something.

Smiling, he said, "Since you may hesitate, let's make a bet. If you can hurt me, I will grant you evolution with absolutely no side effects. Even if you fail, I guarantee that as long as you still have one breath left, I will grant you rebirth."

How could Jiro Awasaka refuse after Mahito had put it that way? How could there possibly be room for refusal? How could he endure this?

He could not endure it. He absolutely could not endure it. No matter what, he could not hold himself back!

Overwhelming fervor swallowed Jiro Awasaka's mind in an instant, and his reason completely collapsed at that moment.

Challenge a god? No—

—I! WILL! FIGHT! A GOD!

Jiro Awasaka roared, feeling that his life of being forced by Satoru Gojo into not daring to kill anyone, only venting his resentment in this underground Boxing Arena, had finally become wholly worthwhile. He even wanted to thank Satoru Gojo. If not for Satoru Gojo, he would never have set foot in this Boxing Arena in his entire life. And if he had never come here, how could he have received the chance to challenge a god?

A mere Cursed Spirit? No, this was a god!

Was challenging a god overestimating himself? No! This was glory.

Glory belonging only to Jiro Awasaka!

And now, Jiro Awasaka would devote himself to that glory!

"Jiro Awasaka!" he roared. The muscles across his body twisted and surged as though a tsunami had struck a cliff. "I'm coming!!!" Humans really are easy to fool, Mahito thought.

Mm, the Cursed Technique that altered souls through the eyes and made them fervent had succeeded.

3. Fist!

Whether in competitive boxing or real combat, every instructor repeated the same thing: "Stay calm. You must stay calm." It was not that fervor was bad for fighting. Quite the opposite—when fervent, one's strength and speed rose sharply. Adrenaline made one ignore pain, and one felt capable of anything, as though a single punch could shatter the sky.

But that state was an illusion. You lost your most important asset—your cool head. Jiro Awasaka was now in exactly that state.

Roaring, he strode forward. His hands hung at his sides like the claws of a demon. As he advanced, he threw his whole body and mind into fervor. He could feel enormous power bursting from his trembling body and soul. His Cursed Energy was almost completely released. At this moment, he could no longer think calmly. He only wanted to unleash his complete self, his perfect self, and his transcendent self before the "god" in front of him!

Mahito was also surprised when he saw Jiro Awasaka, because he had appeared in the original work and performed impressively. In the original story, he had fought the protagonists, Megumi Fushiguro and Yuji Itadori. If Megumi Fushiguro had not been quick-witted, they really might have been killed in a counterattack.

Curse Users had no grades, but judging by his ability, he was unquestionably a Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer. He was the perfect stepping stone!

Mahito did not evade. One reason he had come here was to excavate the potential of this Half-Cursed Spirit body. Faced with an opponent already swallowed by fervor, there was naturally no reason to avoid him.

The instant they drew close, Awasaka's fist had already arrived before Mahito's eyes—a headshot!

He was not some ignorant wild Curse User who only followed instinct. He had received professional training in human anatomy. Even before Satoru Gojo was born, he had freely experimented on living humans. He understood every structure of the human body, and every punch he threw carried killing intent.

Mahito blocked with both hands. Awasaka's fist slammed into his forearms. He had thought that punch would at least shake Mahito's body and force the King of Curses back, but it did not. His fist striking Mahito's arms felt like it had hit a steel plate!

"Urgh." Awasaka forcefully swallowed his pained groan and stared at Mahito's arms. The impact had torn Mahito's white sleeves apart, but what was exposed beneath was not soft skin—it was silver-gray steel plating. Damn it, he had actually hit steel plating!

Mahito shook his arms, and the steel plating vanished. Only then did Awasaka realize there had been no plating at all. Mahito's skin had transformed into steel.

Under normal circumstances, Awasaka would have retreated and calmly considered what Mahito's ability was. But now, there was none of his usual calmness in his mind. He only wanted to kill, could only kill, and lived only to kill! He forcefully halted his backward momentum, planted his feet, and charged again!

Fists rained down! Awasaka unleashed a flurry of blows!

Mahito finally retreated, but he was not in disarray. He stepped back in an orderly manner, calmly blocking with both hands. Awasaka was throwing punches with all his strength, yet every collision injured Awasaka himself. He punched while roaring, and suddenly blood burst from his fist. Though Mahito had been defending all along, Awasaka was the first to be hurt.

What fast reflexes! Awasaka had to admire him. He could tell Mahito had almost no fighting experience, because he was always a beat too slow when blocking. But his terrifying neural reflexes made up for his poor combat technique.

By all rights, such clumsy hand-to-hand skill should have been broken through under Awasaka's pressure. Yet Mahito blocked and defended with ease, a smile even lingering on his face.

Strength! Speed! Constitution! Reflexes! The total superiority of his physical qualities meant Mahito did not need any fighting technique to completely withstand Awasaka's assault. He even had the spare attention to carefully observe Awasaka's movements. He was greedily absorbing Awasaka's combat experience.

He was enjoying the first battle of his life, and his stepping stone was Awasaka!

Suddenly, Awasaka's world tilted. He opened his mouth wide, foam spilling from it. A foot had landed on Awasaka's sash. Mahito had actually found time amid such intense offense and defense to throw a kick. Awasaka had not noticed the attack at all, and before the pain even reached him, he was already launched away like a cannonball.

The noisy audience abruptly fell silent for a moment. The sight before them was too surreal, leaving them all dumbstruck with astonishment. Could you imagine a middle-aged man more solidly built than a black bear spinning through the air and falling like a doll discarded by a little girl? Now—

The audience saw exactly that.

Awasaka felt the world spin. He rotated at least twice in the air. He did not fall to the ground. Instead, like a child skipping a pebble across a lake, he tumbled and crashed into the wall around the arena. With a thunderous boom, even the packed-earth wall serving as the barrier shattered and collapsed, burying him beneath it.

Mahito slowly exhaled. He took off his white shirt and casually threw it aside, baring his upper body completely. Despite going through such fierce exchanges, there was not a trace of sweat on him. His pale skin only displayed sharply defined, streamlined muscles. He slowly stretched his body, like a wild leopard warming up before a meal.

"What is it, Awasaka? Not planning to get up?" he said between slow breaths. His voice grew from light to heavy, slow to urgent, until it carried a sacred pressure like divine punishment. "Weren't you challenging a god—me?!"

That deafening sentence reached the audience without needing amplification from the arena's speakers. It seemed as if countless Sanskrit chants were spreading faintly through the air. The announcer suddenly snapped back to his senses, grabbed the microphone before him, and loudly declared—

"The invincible Jiro Awasaka has fallen! Let us congratulate Pure White Evil on his vict—"

A tremendous roar suddenly interrupted the announcer. An explosion like detonating explosives erupted where Awasaka had landed. The buried Awasaka shoved aside the collapsed rubble and slowly emerged from the blast.

"Hold on. Who said... it was over?"

The burly middle-aged man placed one hand at his shirt collar, hooked his index finger beneath it, and slowly but forcefully pulled downward. The shirt gave a pained shriek. With the strength of one finger alone, he tore the shirt straight off his body.

He spread his hands and ripped the torn shirt into two halves, exposing his perfect, marble-statue-like muscles. Sweat dripped along the lines of his body, slowly evaporating with every breath. It was Cursed Energy. His Cursed Energy was evaporating the sweat as though it had become tangible, circulating at an astonishing speed and enveloping his entire body like heavy armor.

There was not a single wound on Awasaka's body! Strength-Weakness Reversal!

Awasaka had named his Innate Technique Strength-Weakness Reversal. When he activated it, powerful attacks became weak, while weak attacks became powerful. He could freely decide when to activate the Innate Technique. It was an invincible Cursed Technique. As long as his eyes could keep up, no attack could possibly harm him.

In the original story, no matter how the protagonists attacked, they could not break his defense, while every one of his attacks nearly killed them. If not for a flash of inspiration from Megumi Fushiguro, he would have nearly endured their assault long enough to kill them both.

A genuine, invincible victor! This was Ji! Ro! Awa! Saka!

Although he had not reacted to the initial blow, he had activated Strength-Weakness Reversal before hitting the wall. Though the collision had enough force to collapse the packed-earth wall, the force transmitted to his body was lighter than a feather falling upon him.

Awasaka advanced once more. The sudden attack from before had not frightened him. On the contrary, his emotions were now soaring, and his fervor was unmatched! He even felt that he had never been this excited in his entire life. His enemy was the Lord of Curses who aspired to ascend the divine throne. He had a feeling that he would never again experience such an exhilarating battle in this lifetime.

Mahito also began to advance. He had long since ended the Cursed Technique that guided fervor through his eyes. Awasaka no longer needed guidance. Fervor had already entirely swallowed his reason. Mahito felt his body stretching as he breathed slowly. He could feel the Cursed Energy Core vibrating. He was growing—growing at high speed, as though ascending!

At the same time, the two men who had been walking slowly suddenly broke into a full sprint.

Strength-Weakness Reversal! Idle Transfiguration!

Awasaka suddenly leaped up and threw a violent punch while airborne. He poured Cursed Energy into his fist without reservation. Any Jujutsu Sorcerer concentrating hard enough could clearly see the ominous black light coiling around his fist. That was Cursed Energy in an overflowing state.