The car slowly came to a stop, the sound of its engine shutting off unusually clear in the silent mountains.
Kashimo pushed open the door and set one foot on Jujutsu High's grounds. The June damp carried the distinctive chill of old stone tiles up through his soles. He straightened and looked up at the buildings before him: mottled red roof tiles, dull gray stone walls, wooden beams and pillars etched with cracks left by time. Clumps of unidentified weeds hung from the eaves, swaying gently in the wind beneath the overcast sky.
He clicked his tongue.
Man, this place was ancient.
Seriously ancient. This thing had to be at least a few hundred years old, right? Older than he was-assuming those four hundred years in the middle didn't count.
"Let's go," Masamichi Yaga called from ahead. He had already climbed the steps and turned back to look at Kashimo. "We'll go to academic affairs first to sort out your classes. Someone from Jujutsu Headquarters might come, too. Afterward, we'll take you to your faculty dorm."
"Fine by me." Kashimo's voice was flat, betraying no emotion. He followed with his suitcase, his footsteps making dull thuds against the stone path, his ponytail swaying behind his head. After those three words, he fell silent again and simply walked.
His mind was actually on something else.
None of the familiar faces from the original story were at Jujutsu High yet. Both Satoru Gojo and Shoko Ieiri were still children. They probably wouldn't enroll for another three years.
In other words, after collecting his cursed tool, he would have to work for Jujutsu High for three years.
That wasn't so bad, actually.
He added that inwardly, this time with a subtle hint of anticipation. The assignments Jujutsu High handed out should give him