Zhiyan was waiting at the Technique Training Ground early the next morning. Morning mist still clung to the stone slabs, and a cool breeze swept fine dust across the empty grounds. His fingers tightened slightly at his waist as he patiently waited for Toji to appear.
Sure enough, nearly an hour passed before that indolent figure finally sauntered in. His clothes hung loose, his hair was a mess, and his face wore an air of careless languor, as though he had merely wandered over rather than come to train.
Zhiyan was already used to it. He did not even frown, merely lifting his eyes calmly to meet him. Toji leaned casually against a nearby stone pillar, twirling an unremarkable dagger between his fingers as his lazy gaze swept over Zhiyan.
Zhiyan spoke first, his voice cool but steady. "What's today's training? Fighting cursed spirits again?"
Toji shook his head lightly and slipped his free hand into his pocket. His low voice held a teasing edge, backed by an authority that allowed no argument. "Kid, today we're practicing Martial Arts."
At those words, a faint stir finally passed through Zhiyan's normally unruffled eyes. He did not object immediately. Maintaining his composure, he slowly surveyed the empty Technique Training Ground.
The stone paving was flat and open, and the morning mist had yet to disperse entirely. Apart from the two of them, no one was there-not even a jujutsu sorcerer or a tamed cursed spirit to serve as a sparring partner.
The Technique Training Ground was so quiet that the faint whisper of wind around the stone pillars was audible.
Zhiyan slowly brought his gaze back to Toji, who stood lazily before him, and understanding settled clearly in his eyes. He needed no further questions or confirmation to grasp what the man meant.
A six-year-old child should have looked frightened or upset, but his face retained a composure beyond his years. Only his tone grew more openly skeptical. There was no loss of control, no shouting, only a resignation so calm it bordered on detachment.
He looked up at Toji and spoke evenly, enunciating every word. "You mean you want me, a six-year-old child, to spar one-on-one in Martial Arts with you—a man whose body possesses a heavenly restriction?"
He paused and frowned slightly. His tone remained restrained, but his assessment was unmistakably rational. "With your physical strength, speed, and explosive power, this isn't training anymore. It's a one-sided crushing. You should know that this isn't reasonable."
Toji gave a low snort, as though he had heard something amusing. There was a trace of casual malice in it, along with disdain for the logic of the weak. He slowly straightened, shedding some of his slouch. Though he released no cursed energy, the pressure born of his overwhelmingly powerful body silently blanketed the entire Technique Training Ground like heavy storm clouds.
"Reasonable?" Toji stepped forward, his pace slow yet intimidating. Each footfall sent an almost imperceptible tremor through the stone beneath him. "Kid, there's nothing reasonable about a fight to the death. Jujutsu can fail. Cursed spirits can ambush you. An enemy won't go easy on you because you're young."
He stopped in front of Zhiyan and looked down at the child, who barely reached his waist. His eyes were languid, yet sharp as knives.
"I'm not making you train with me so you can beat me. I'm making you take a beating until no one but me can give you one."
Zhiyan tilted his head back, his small body standing perfectly straight without the slightest retreat.
He knew Toji's temperament, and he knew even better that the man never did anything pointless, however extreme or nearly cruel his methods might be.
He was silent for a moment before the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. Clearly, he had accepted an arrangement he could not change.
Yet his calm eyes still held a stubborn resolve of his own.
"I understand," he said softly, his voice level. "But I won't admit defeat just because there's a gap between us."
A lazy, cruel smile curled Toji's lips. He lifted a hand and flexed his wrist, producing a faint crack of bone.
"You'd better not," he said flatly, without a trace of pity. "Because I don't think much of people who give up, either."
The instant the words left his mouth, Toji vanished from where he stood.
There was no fluctuation of cursed energy, no activation of a cursed technique-only sheer, absolute speed, ghostlike as he bore down on the six-year-old boy.
Almost the instant Toji disappeared, Zhiyan hurled himself sideways into a roll, guided by a calm instinct beyond his years.
Without cursed energy to reinforce him, he could rely only on the basic reflexes and muscle memory he had honed through daily practice. His small body scraped a short distance across the cool stone, barely avoiding the unannounced assault.
A dull, heavy impact exploded from the spot where he had just stood. Toji's casual strike split the hard bluestone slab with several fine cracks. Chips of stone flew past Zhiyan's ear, leaving a faint, stinging pain.
Zhiyan did not pause. The instant he landed, he planted one hand on the ground and rose, swiftly putting a safe distance between himself and Toji. His small chest rose and fell, but his judgment remained calm, his eyes fixed on that languid yet lethal figure.
He knew perfectly well that against Toji, who possessed a heavenly restriction, the slightest panic or hesitation could rob him of any chance to resist.
As Toji watched the kid narrowly evade his attack, a barely perceptible flicker of surprise crossed his languid eyes, only to be replaced by amusement. He slowly straightened, making no effort to temper his intimidating presence just because his opponent was six years old. "Your reflexes aren't terrible. You're a little quicker than I expected."
Before he finished speaking, he advanced again. This time, he held nothing back, his body's sheer explosive speed leaving only a blurred afterimage.
Zhiyan held his breath and cleared his mind, his eyes tracking Toji's movements. The instant the rushing fist approached, he ducked and bent at a precise, awkward angle, evading the heavy punch aimed at his face. At the same time, he shifted his feet and circled toward Toji's flank.
He knew the gulf between them was insurmountable. Meeting Toji head-on would be like throwing an egg against a rock. His only way out was agile footwork and precise judgment, dodging continuously while searching for even the smallest opening.
"All you can do is dodge?" Toji's voice carried a teasing impatience. His leg swept out like an iron whip, stirring a fierce gust. Zhiyan hastily leaped over it, but his toes had barely touched the ground before the next attack forced him back again and again. His back slammed into a cold stone pillar, and a dull ache spread along his spine.
At the sharp pain, Zhiyan merely furrowed his brow. No other emotion showed on his face. He neither cried out nor begged in panic. Instead, the instant his back met the pillar, he adjusted his stance and raised both hands before him, assuming the firmest guard he could.
He knew evasion had its limits. Real Martial Arts training was never about endlessly fleeing, but learning to hold his ground under absolute pressure.
Toji watched the kid before him, his entire body taut and even his fingertips trembling slightly, yet his eyes remained unnaturally calm for a child as he rapidly considered how to respond. A faint trace of approval finally surfaced in Toji's languid gaze.
He did not attack immediately. Instead, he stopped three steps away from Zhiyan, casually flexing his wrist. His tone was lazy, but every word was clear. "Remember what it feels like to be cornered with nowhere left to go, kid."
"Jujutsu can make you feel safe, but it can also make you forget the most basic thing-how to use your own body to hold out until the very end when you've got nothing else to rely on."
Zhiyan pressed his lips together. He did not reply, but he committed every word to memory.
He slowly regulated his breathing, his small body drawn taut like a bow ready to release. Even faced with overwhelming strength, he showed no intention of backing down.
The morning mist dispersed completely, and golden sunlight flooded the Technique Training Ground, stretching the shadows of the two facing figures.
There were no shrieks from cursed spirits, no glow of cursed techniques. Only the most primal, brutal contest of bodies continued to unfold silently across the quiet grounds.
Watching the boy's calm stubbornness, Toji's lips curved faintly, almost indulgently. In the next second, another vicious rush of punches descended on Zhiyan.
A fist hurtled toward him with a sharp whistle through the air.
With his back against the cold stone pillar, Zhiyan had nowhere to retreat. Yet at the last possible moment, his small body twisted sideways as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest.
Thud!
The heavy impact echoed across the empty Technique Training Ground. Though Zhiyan's arms blocked the punch and dissipated most of its force, the remaining brutal impact still struck him like a sledgehammer.
The six-year-old's slender arms went numb at once, sharp pain searing deep into his bones. The force hurled him backward, sending him sliding several feet across the stone in a spray of fine dust.
Dust settled on his hair and the hem of his clothes, and a vivid bruise rapidly spread across his forearm. Yet Zhiyan did not let out so much as a grunt.
The instant he landed, he planted his palms against the ground, bent his knees, and pushed himself into a half-kneeling position as quickly as possible. He did not check his injuries. Those eyes, far calmer than his age warranted, stayed fixed on Toji as he swiftly adjusted his breathing. His chest rose and fell slightly, but he maintained a posture ready to respond to the next attack.
He knew that showing weakness or pausing before Toji would only invite his own destruction. Pain could be endured. Panic could not be allowed.
Toji watched the kid rise swiftly even after being knocked away by a single punch. The amusement in his languid eyes gradually faded, replaced by a subtle, appraising look.
He did not pursue immediately. With both hands in his trouser pockets, he strolled forward and looked down at the half-kneeling Zhiyan. His casual tone held a cutting bluntness. "That's all you can take? You can't even handle one punch from me. How are you going to survive in the Jujutsu Society?"
Zhiyan slowly raised his head. His small face remained calm, though he pressed his lips into a thin line. He neither argued nor complained.
He braced himself against the ground and stood, moving his numb arms. He registered the pain in his bones and muscles clearly, fixing the sensation of being overwhelmed by absolute strength firmly in his memory.
He knew Toji was telling the truth. Reliant on his cursed technique, his body was too weak to withstand a blow. It was a fatal shortcoming.
"I know." Zhiyan's voice remained steady, without the slightest tremor, but now carried greater resolve. "I won't keep dodging forever."
As the words fell, he stopped waiting passively and stepped forward of his own accord.
Without cursed energy reinforcing him or any fancy moves, he simply followed the most basic principles of Martial Arts, lowering his center of gravity and rushing toward Toji.
His target was not Toji's torso-that would be like throwing an egg against a rock. Instead, he aimed for the ankle joint, hoping to find even the slightest opening through agility.
Toji raised an eyebrow slightly at the kid charging toward him, evidently a little surprised.
He stood without moving until Zhiyan's small hand was about to touch his ankle. Only then did he casually lift his foot and bring it down in a light grinding motion.
Zhiyan reacted swiftly. The instant Toji raised his foot, he pulled his hand back and nimbly reversed course, avoiding a casual stomp that could easily have broken his arm.
He kept shifting positions, his small figure darting across the Technique Training Ground, circling one moment and striking the next. Every movement was precise and composed, without a trace of needless panic.
Despite the disparity in strength, despite the lethal danger that accompanied every approach, he did not stop moving.
Watching Zhiyan continually maneuver around him, Toji gave a lazy smile. This kid was a lot more interesting than those useless fools who only knew how to swagger around on the strength of their cursed energy.
"Now you're getting somewhere," Toji said with a low snort. He stopped merely evading and moved abruptly, too fast for the naked eye to follow. Appearing directly beside Zhiyan, he reached out and caught the boy's forearm with perfect accuracy.
His grip was not particularly forceful, yet Zhiyan could not break free.
Zhiyan's pupils contracted slightly. Rather than struggle, he immediately tensed every muscle in preparation for the next attack. But the expected blow never came. Toji merely tugged him half a step forward, then lightly pressed his other hand against the base of his neck.
An irresistible force sent Zhiyan off balance. Just as he was about to fall, Toji casually caught him by the back of his collar and lifted him.
Even as his feet left the ground, Zhiyan stayed calm. He did not struggle, merely looking up at the man before him.
Toji lifted him to eye level, his languid eyes fixed on the boy. His voice deepened, losing some of its mockery and taking on the tone of genuine instruction. "Remember, kid, Martial Arts isn't about clever little tricks, and it isn't about matching brute strength. It's about keeping your own rhythm despite an absolute gap in ability, and sensing every move your opponent makes."
"Your dodging was steady, and your judgment was right. But you were too slow, and too weak." Toji loosened his grip and gently set him back on the ground. "Again."
Zhiyan steadied himself, rubbed his aching forearm, and looked up at Toji, giving a small nod.
The sunlight grew fiercer, warming the stone slabs of the Technique Training Ground, and the two figures began moving again. There were no shouts, no retreats, only repeated assaults, blocks, evasions, and suppression. Before overwhelming strength, the boy's composed figure stubbornly grew, rising with a steadier stance after every fall.
As Toji watched the six-year-old who never once panicked, his careless indifference had long since faded. In its place came a quiet seriousness that even he had not noticed.
The sparring match, whose outcome had never been in doubt, finally ended with Zhiyan being effortlessly laid flat on the ground.
He lay on his back on the still-warm bluestone slabs, his gaze slightly unfocused. Waves of aching, numbing pain coursed through every limb, as though something heavy had rolled over him from head to toe. Even the strength to lift a hand had been drained away.
Sweat ran down his temples into his collar, soaking the fabric across his back. His chest rose and fell gently with each breath, yet even drawing a deep breath felt exhausting.
He did not cry, complain, or immediately struggle to get up. He simply lay quietly, looking at the clear sky above as he calmly processed every moment in which he had been suppressed, breached, and defeated.
The pain was not pointless torment. Like so many nails, it hammered his body's weakness, the importance of distance, and the sluggishness of his reactions into his memory.
Toji stood beside him with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, looking down at the immobilized kid. His face still wore the same lazy indifference, as though the nearly one-sided sparring match had been nothing more than a chance to stretch his muscles.
He nudged a small stone by his foot and spoke evenly, his voice holding less mockery and a rare measure of seriousness:
"You jujutsu sorcerers, especially shikigami users like you-you've got cursed energy, shikigami, cursed techniques... everything. But this is what you lack most."
Toji lifted his chin slightly, gesturing toward his own body, then toward Zhiyan.
"No matter how strong your shikigami are, someone will get close to you eventually. No matter how powerful your cursed technique is, there'll come a moment when it's sealed off. Once someone gets right up against you, all that fancy summoning and control becomes useless."
He paused, watching Zhiyan's small face remain calm without the slightest sign of breaking down. A faint hint of approval passed through his languid eyes.
"Close combat is your greatest weakness."
Toji's voice was not loud, but every word rang clearly, striking deep into the boy's heart:
"Today's lesson might look like nothing but me beating you up. But once you clear this hurdle-once you can block, dodge, and hold your own at close range-you won't have any real fatal weaknesses left."
Zhiyan lay on the ground and listened quietly, offering no objection.
He knew better than anyone that Toji was right.
The strength of the Ten Shadows Technique lay in its shikigami, but its weakness was bound to them as well. Once someone broke through his defenses and closed in on his actual body, even the strongest shikigami could not be summoned in time, and even the most sophisticated cursed technique could not be deployed.
Before, he had focused solely on controlling his shikigami and cultivating his cursed energy. Never had he felt the importance of his own body as directly as he did today.
He gritted his teeth and planted both hands on the stone. His arms trembled slightly, but he still pushed himself upright, little by little.
His small figure stood before Toji once more, his hair disheveled, his clothes dusty, and his entire body aching. Yet his eyes remained calm and bright, without the slightest retreat.
Watching him get up on his own, Toji felt a little admiration for his tenacity. He did not move to help him, instead turning toward the exit of the Technique Training Ground.
"That's it for today."
With his back to Zhiyan, he waved a hand, his tone lazy but leaving no room for doubt:
"Next time we train, I won't be as nice as I was today."
Zhiyan stood where he was, watching Toji's back recede into the distance, and gently clenched his still-numb fists.
The pain remained, but something new had taken root within him.
It was a clearheaded, resolute kind of growth, hammered into him by absolute strength.
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