Ten Years

Ten years.

Enough to turn the world upside down, to bring the old order crashing down, to bring unfamiliar names into the spotlight and make them new legends.

Jujutsu Society had undergone a tremendous upheaval.

The Three Great Families had fallen into utter decline. Kamo, Gojo, Zenin-the three names that had once stood at the pinnacle of Jujutsu Society were now relics of a bygone age. No one knew how long it would take them to rise again. A year, ten years, or a hundred.

Their once deeply entrenched power and connections had been swept apart by the tide of history, leaving only ruins for later generations to mourn.

The New Shadow Style had seized the opportunity to rise. The school grew rapidly, its disciples spreading across the land, and seemed poised to claim the position the Three Great Families had once held.

The Shogunate had also undergone sweeping reform. The balance of power within the Tokugawa had been reshuffled, and most surprising of all, the Shogunate had welcomed its first female shogun. The girl who had once stood frozen on the battlefield, covered in blood and leaning against a tree, now sat at the pinnacle of power.

Meanwhile, the Kujū Dojo in Kyoto had risen to fame, becoming the foremost martial arts school of the Edo period with unstoppable momentum. Countless martial artists flocked there on the strength of its reputation. The dojo bustled with visitors, its disciples numbering in the thousands.

None of this meant anything to Kashimo.

He did not care who held power or which schools rose and fell, simply because he was now truly the strongest of his age.

Only two things had truly occupied those ten years of his life.

Kenjaku had spent four full years teaching him everything he knew about Barrier Techniques. The intricate, precise Cursed Techniques, the layered barrier structures, the skills that required immense effort to master-Kashimo had worked through them bit by bit. Four years, over a thousand days and nights, were enough to transform a person to his very core.

For the remaining six years, the two had been inseparable, like conjoined twins.

Kenjaku found people. Kashimo killed them.

Kenjaku always managed to unearth powerful beings hidden from the world in some forgotten corner or ancient record-reclusive Jujutsu Sorcerers, mutated Cursed Spirits, ancient beings that legend claimed had not yet died out.

He took Kashimo to find them one after another, and Kashimo's task was almost brutally simple: blow them apart with a punch.

There was never any suspense.

The powerful opponents Kenjaku carefully selected could hardly last a single exchange against Kashimo. One punch, two at most, and the fight was over. Sometimes, Kashimo even felt a little bored. In all six years, he had not met a single opponent of the kind he had awaited for so long, someone who could set his blood boiling on the edge of life and death.

Still, the rewards from his Binding Vow were very real.

By now, Kashimo's total Cursed Energy reserves and output had grown to a staggering level. The power that poured endlessly from his body was like an inexhaustible ocean; however freely he spent it, he could never find its bottom. What pleased him even more was that he could now use Mythical Beast Amber as many times as he wished.

It was no longer a once-in-a-lifetime trump card, but a set of fangs he could bare whenever he chose.

That was undoubtedly the best news of all.

Now twenty-seven, Kashimo sat on a great rock jutting out of the water, a fishing rod in his hand and his idle gaze resting on the calm surface.

He wore old clothes washed pale, his hair tied casually behind his head, and radiated a languid air of utter boredom. Sunlight fell on him, casting a long, slanting reflection across the water.

The fishing rod did not move.

He was in no hurry either. He simply sat there, like a stone worn smooth by time.

Beneath the surface, faint shadows of fish swam past, but none showed any intention of taking the hook.

"Say, why didn't you even bother going to see the new opponent I found you?"

Kenjaku's voice sounded behind him without warning, so close it seemed to brush his ear. The wind lifted a corner of his black monk's robes. He had appeared silently behind the boulder, his face wearing that same unchanging, composed smile, his gaze resting lazily on the hand in which Kashimo held the fishing rod.

"And-" He tilted his head slightly and glanced at the bare hook beneath the surface, his smile deepening. "Can you really catch anything without bait?"

Kashimo did not turn around.

He did not even stir, remaining seated firmly on the rock, his gaze still on the water. Sunlight fell across the ends of his tied-back hair, and his whole bearing was loose and languid.

"The opponents you find me..." He gave a scoff, his voice carrying a casual hint of disdain. "Not one of them is worth a damn."

He paused, then finally turned his face a little to glance at Kenjaku out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm starting to wonder if you've been lying to me."

Kenjaku raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He simply stood there, his smile deepening.

Kashimo withdrew his gaze and looked back at the water. A light breeze swept past, spreading ripples across the surface, but the rod in his hand remained motionless.

"As for not having bait..."

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, as though he had remembered something amusing.

"There's an old saying: 'Only the willing take the hook.' Ever heard it?"

Kenjaku froze for a moment, then chuckled softly. His laughter drifted across the empty riverbank, startling a few waterbirds in the distance.

"Only the willing take the hook," he repeated, nodding unhurriedly. "Then take your time waiting. Let's see whether anything in this water is willing to bite that bare hook of yours."

Kashimo ignored him and merely extended his rod a little farther over the water, his gaze still calmly fixed on the surface that reflected the sky.

After a while, Kashimo spoke again.

The ripples had completely settled, and the water reflected the entire sky, as still as a forgotten mirror. His voice was quiet, yet it sounded especially clear in the silence.

"Kenjaku, turn me into a Cursed Object."

Kenjaku's brow lifted, and the smile on his face froze for a moment.

Kashimo did not look at him. His eyes remained on the water, his tone as flat as if he were discussing something perfectly ordinary.

"Take me to that future where Sukuna is."

Only then did he slowly turn his head to look at Kenjaku behind him. There was no hesitation or uncertainty in his eyes, only a conviction tempered over ten years. It was as though the thought had lingered in his heart for far too long, and he was merely giving voice to it at last.

Kenjaku paused for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Hahaha-" His laughter was far too hearty for a response to such a weighty request. He raised a hand to his chin and looked at Kashimo with his head tilted. "Let me make one thing clear first. I'm not sure I'll still be alive in that era you're talking about."

He spoke lightly, as though they were discussing what to have for dinner that night.

Kashimo watched him without smiling or urging him on. He simply waited quietly for the answer.

Wind blew in from the river, lifting a corner of Kenjaku's robes. His smile faded, and he held Kashimo's gaze for a moment before finally nodding, a rare trace of seriousness entering his tone.

"You will, Kenjaku."

After saying those words, Kashimo turned back to the water. The rod in his hand remained perfectly still. The unbaited hook was still submerged beneath the surface, waiting for some willing taker who might appear at an unknown time.

Kenjaku stood watching him for a long while, the corners of his mouth slowly curling into an unreadable smile.

"All right."

Those two words drifted lightly into the wind, yet carried more weight than anything else.

That very night, Kenjaku began.

Moonlight spread like water across the riverbank. Kashimo still sat on the same great rock, his fishing rod propped at an angle beside him, as though he had not yet had his fill of the day's aimless fishing. He neither struggled nor said much, simply watching quietly as Kenjaku gathered his soul together little by little.

The process was not painful, but it could hardly be called easy.

A faint light shone at Kenjaku's fingertips. Like threads, Cursed Energy drew every strand of Kashimo's soul from his body, then carefully sealed it inside his index finger. The finger gradually became something unnatural, dark markings emerging across its surface. It resembled an ancient relic steeped in both time and Cursed Energy, heavy with an indescribable power.

And so, a Cursed Object that bound his soul took shape.

In the future, as long as someone swallowed it, Kashimo could return to life through incarnation in that person's body. It was an anchor across time, a way to cast himself into the distant future, to reach the age in which Sukuna existed and keep an appointment delayed by who knew how many years.

Interestingly, Kashimo's body, now bereft of its soul, did not return to dust.

After completing the process, Kenjaku apparently felt it would be a shame to simply discard it, so he let a little information slip. The body that had once borne the title of the strongest instantly became an object of desire for every faction.

The Kujū Dojo and the Shogunate moved almost simultaneously. The two sides struggled and competed in the shadows, nearly sparking another upheaval.

In the end, the soulless body fell into the hands of the Tokugawa. They placed it inside a crystal coffin, sealed it with layers of Jujutsu, and carefully preserved it.

Inside the coffin, Kashimo lay with his eyes closed and his expression peaceful, as though he were merely asleep.

His index finger was already gone. Kenjaku had long since safely stored away the Cursed Object that held his entire soul, leaving it to await a summons from the future.

But all of that came later.

For now, moonlight still lay quietly across the river. The fishing rod still leaned against the rock, and the hook beneath the water remained bare, waiting for some unknown willing taker.

(End of the Edo arc)