There was no pomp or ceremony to the meeting. It took place in an ordinary conference room at Jujutsu High, with Hatoyama Jushō sitting across from Yan Si. Yan Si leaned back in his chair with his legs crossed, looking so relaxed he might have come for tea. He even held a bag of snacks.
Hatoyama Jushō asked him a few questions.
Yan Si's answers were as languid as ever, but he got all the necessary points across.
He was an outstanding student: kind, gentle, positive, helpful, beautiful, friendly, confident...
He was willing to enroll, less because he wanted someone to back him up than because it seemed interesting. As for Kyoto refusing to take him, he laughed and said that worked out perfectly-he didn't want to go there anyway.
"I think they have no eye for talent."
That was the reason he gave.
Hatoyama Jushō, a seventy-year-old man with one foot in the grave, stared at him for a moment in rare speechlessness, then nodded.
With Yan Si's consent, Hatoyama Jushō made his decision: Yan Si would join Tokyo Jujutsu High's incoming first-year class, officially enrolling in April.
That placed him under Tokyo's jurisdiction, outside Kyoto's territory, so the Three Great Families could breathe a sigh of relief.
Tokyo gained someone who could output Reverse Cursed Technique, along with a fighter with a special constitution thrown into the bargain. All gain, no loss.
As for his tendency to attract monsters, Tokyo already had plenty of cursed spirits. A few more or less wouldn't make much difference.
And just like that, Yan Si's enrollment was finally settled.
Neither of them had officially enrolled yet, but Jujutsu High had already arranged their rooms in Tokyo Jujutsu High's student dormitory.
At present, the entire dormitory building had only one resident: their third-year senior, Mei Mei. Now, with Yan Si and Suguru Geto, there were three students to a whole building.
There were so few people that dividing floors by gender would have been pointless, so the dorm was coed, with one person per room-and the rooms were quite spacious. Yan Si chose the room farthest down the hall because it was "quiet." Suguru Geto chose one in the middle. He didn't give a reason; perhaps it was just personal preference.
Mei Mei was quite unfazed by the sudden addition of two younger boys to the dorm.
When she ran into Yan Si in the hallway, she looked him up and down, remarked, "Good-looking," then drifted elegantly away.
Watching this senior with her long white hair in a high ponytail, Yan Si nodded in satisfaction and replied, "You have good taste."
Over the past few days, Yan Si had been running into Suguru Geto in the dorm hallway with abnormal frequency. Whenever he opened his door and went out, there would be movement next door within minutes.
At first, he thought it was a coincidence. Later, he stopped thinking that, but he still didn't understand.
Suguru Geto was a Cursed Spirit Manipulation user. The cursed spirits in his special, "womb"-like space were drawn to Yan Si and wanted to attack him.
Suguru Geto could keep them under control, but the sensation was peculiar.
He was trying to find out why-what exactly was different about Yan Si that made him so prone to "drawing monsters."
The last stop in their enrollment process was Masamichi Yaga's office.
The office wasn't large. Mission briefs and basic Jujutsu Society regulations hung on the walls, and several stacks of documents covered the desk. Masamichi Yaga sat behind it, his square face as stern as ever.
He was looking through a file, his thick-knuckled fingers turning the pages with a surprisingly light touch.
At first sight, Yan Si thought, A burly warrior threading a needle-delicate beneath the rough exterior.
Yan Si and Suguru Geto stood before the desk, each holding his own enrollment file. They had just found the information on their future homeroom teacher.
Masamichi Yaga would serve as their first-year homeroom teacher and was also responsible for registering their enrollment.
"Congratulations, Yan."
Suguru Geto spoke first, turning toward Yan Si, his tone gentle but sincere.
After all these days of trouble-from an assassination attempt at the hotel, to being taken in by the higher-ups, to finally securing his enrollment-these congratulations were hardly premature.
Yan Si nodded, glanced at the enrollment file in Suguru Geto's hand, and rubbed his chin. "Nice grades, Geto."
His tone was casual, but for once, he added no unnecessary nonsense, didn't stir anything up, and didn't deliberately irritate anyone. It was a simple, straightforward compliment.
Suguru Geto was slightly taken aback, then nodded and accepted the praise.
What a rarity.
Hearing something nice from Yan Si's foul mouth was practically an event for the history books.
He silently noted the date. March 15. Yan Si spoke normally. Worth commemorating.
While Masamichi Yaga leafed through Yan Si's file and made notes, Suguru Geto stood beside him with a smile, subtly shifting his gaze.
He wasn't deliberately snooping, but Yan Si's file lay open on the desk, its layout no different from an ordinary enrollment file. At 178 centimeters tall, he only had to glance slightly to the side to see it.
Then he discovered something.
Yan Si really hadn't been pulling his leg.
The file stated it clearly: accelerated schooling, skipped three grades. Already completed high school and admitted to university. The name of the school was filled in under the admitting institution.
Suguru Geto recognized it.
Even though he didn't know much about universities, he knew it was a very prestigious institution.
That time on the rooftop, Yan Si had been eating bread with his chin tilted up when he said, "I got into a top university, you know." Suguru Geto had assumed it was his usual bragging and nonsense. It turned out to be true.
He used exactly the same tone for truth and lies; there was no telling them apart. But on closer reflection, Yan Si didn't seem to have ever lied.
He simply told the truth in a way that made it impossible to believe, then secretly enjoyed the other person's doubtful expression.
What a lunatic.
Suguru Geto's gaze continued downward.
Date of birth: April 4, 1990.
April 4. Two fours side by side. In Japanese, "four" could be read as "shi." Putting two "shi" together made "shiawase," pronounced exactly like the word for "happiness."
Suguru Geto silently read the date to himself, finding the coincidence rather interesting. Born in 1990, which meant that this year he was...
Hm?
Wait.
Suguru Geto abruptly raised his head and looked at Yan Si, who stood leisurely beside him with his head tilted slightly, thinking about who knew what.
Long hair fell to his shoulders, a spot of red marked his brow, and his purple eyes shifted as he noticed Suguru Geto's gaze and looked back.
Suguru Geto's voice held the certainty of someone who had finally found his bearings after being thoroughly confused.
"You're only fourteen?"
Yan Si blinked, then shrugged with utter indifference, his whole posture seeming to say, So what?
"Round it up and I'm fifteen. It's only a few days. Makes no difference."
His tone couldn't have been more offhand.
"It's just a few days anyway. Is there any fundamental difference between fourteen and fifteen?"
Suguru Geto looked at him, finally fitting all the pieces together. Accelerated schooling, three grades skipped, admitted to university-and actually fourteen years old.
A few months younger than him. This guy who spouted nonsense, went all-out on offense without bothering to defend, sliced through cursed spirits like vegetables, and ate bread with such displeasure was only fourteen.
Suguru Geto fell silent for two seconds, then shifted all his previous assessments of Yan Si up a notch.
Not only was he infuriating to talk to.
He was also a genius.
And the most troublesome kind of genius at that.
He didn't even think it was a big deal.
Noticing that Suguru Geto was still looking at him, Yan Si tilted his head. "What, can't I enroll at fourteen? Does your school have an age limit?"
"...No."
"Then there you go." Yan Si turned his gaze forward again, his tone relaxed and matter-of-fact. "Fourteen's good. It's a lucky number."
Yan Si, fourteen, April 4.
Si, death.
Masamichi Yaga looked up from the file at the two boys who would soon become his students-one smiling, the other wearing a complicated expression-then lowered his head again and stamped the form.
Their enrollment paperwork was complete.
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