The New Student

In an old house where the floors creaked with even the slightest of movements, a young boy of seven years old was immersed in his world of play. The simplicity of the surroundings did little to dampen his imagination as he maneuvered his toys across the wooden floor.

The warm, inviting aroma of dinner wafted through the house from the kitchen, where his mother was busy preparing their meal. Despite the modesty of their home, there was a sense of comfort and love that filled the space.

Suddenly, the boy's playtime was interrupted by his mother's gentle call. "Hiro, it's time for dinner," she announced, her voice carrying the warmth of a loving parent.

With an excited smile, young Hiro quickly got up and scampered to the dining table where his mother was setting down the evening meal. Together, they sat down, and Hiro's mother took a moment to say a quiet word of thanks for their food.

The meal was simple – a humble bowl of soup for each of them. But to Hiro, it was more than enough. The soup, steaming and fragrant, was a symbol of his mother's care and affection. As they began to eat, the small dining room was filled with the sound of their conversation and laughter.

In those moments, Hiro felt an immense sense of contentment. The challenges and scarcities of their life did little to diminish the bond he shared with his mother. Their dinner, modest as it was, represented a moment of togetherness and joy, a reminder of the simple but profound pleasures of life.

As they ate, Hiro's mother listened attentively to his stories from the day, her eyes filled with love and pride for her son. In return, Hiro basked in the attention and care of his mother, his heart full. These dinners, simple and routine, were cherished moments for Hiro, memories that he would carry with him as he grew older.

Hiro's smile vanished as his mother mentioned a call from his school. "They told me you hit another boy today," she said, her tone serious yet concerned. "I want to know why you did it."

Hiro looked down at his bowl, feeling a mix of shame and defiance. "He was making fun of me for being poor," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

His mother sighed softly, reaching out to gently stroke his hair. "Hiro, you can't use violence every time something upsets you. We've talked about this before," she reminded him, her touch reassuring despite her words of admonishment.

Hiro nodded, feeling the weight of his actions. He knew his mother was right.

His mother continued, her voice full of love and understanding. "Hiro, you're a strong boy, born with a natural talent for fighting. That's why I enrolled you in the boxing gym. I believe you'll achieve great things there."

She paused, her eyes softening as she pulled Hiro into a warm embrace. "But Hiro, your strength shouldn't be used to punish others, but to defend and protect. The strongest men look after themselves, but the truly powerful look after others."

Breaking the embrace, she looked into Hiro's eyes, her gaze filled with hope and conviction. "Promise me, Hiro. Promise me you'll use your strength to protect those who can't protect themselves."

Hiro, moved by his mother's words, felt a sense of responsibility settle over him. He understood the importance of what she was saying. Looking back at her, he nodded solemnly. "I promise, Mom," he said, his voice firm with determination.

His mother smiled, her expression one of pride and love. "That's my boy," she said, her smile radiating warmth and affection.

The conversation marked a pivotal moment for Hiro, a lesson about the true nature of strength and the responsibility that came with it. It was a lesson he would carry with him, shaping the person he would become in the years ahead.

The calm and warmth of Hiro's dinner with his mother were shattered in an instant when his father burst into the house, reeking of alcohol and anger. The man stormed into the kitchen, his movements unsteady but aggressive.

"Stupid Bitch! Everything's your damn fault!" he yelled, his voice slurred but filled with venom.

Hiro's mother, her face etched with concern, quickly turned to Hiro. "Go to your room, Hiro," she urged, trying to shield him from the scene.

But the father's tirade continued unabated. "It's because of you I got fired today!" he shouted, his rage directed entirely at his wife.

The mother, attempting to calm the situation, replied, "Rentaro, I don't know what you're talking about."

But Rentaro was beyond reason. "Your fault for having that brat at 16! Because of you, I had to quit studying and take a lousy job, and now I've been fired!" His words were a mix of resentment and self-pity.

The mother's patience finally snapped. "Don't call Hiro that. He's not to blame!" she retorted, her voice firm.

Rentaro, however, only grew more belligerent. He laughed mockingly and then, in a fit of rage, threw the kitchen table aside. "Even your family abandoned you when they found out you were a whore who got pregnant at 16!" he spat out, each word more venomous than the last.

The mother, her voice trembling with emotion, defended herself. "It was both our fault, and I'm not sorry for having Hiro. But I am sorry for being with you."

Rentaro's face twisted in fury at her words. He struck her across the face, sending her crashing to the floor with a bloodied nose.

From the stairs, Hiro watched in horror. Fear and helplessness gripped him as he saw his mother lying on the ground, injured and vulnerable. The scene unfolding before him was a stark contrast to the loving and safe environment his mother had always provided.

Hiro, torn between the instinct to run to his mother's aid and the fear of his father's wrath, remained frozen on the stairs. The violence and anger in the house were a far cry from the lessons of kindness and strength his mother had instilled in him. In those moments, Hiro's world, once filled with the simple joys of childhood, was irrevoca9bly altered.

The scene in Hiro's childhood home escalated into a nightmare. His father, blinded by rage, continued to kick Hiro's mother mercilessly, each blow accompanied by her pained cries. But then, suddenly, the father felt a sharp pain in his head. He had been hit by the household's landline phone, thrown with considerable force. A trickle of blood started to seep from a gash on his forehead.

He turned to see who had thrown the phone and was met with the sight of young Hiro, standing defiantly with his small fists raised in a boxing guard. Tears streamed down Hiro's face, mixing with an expression of terror and determination. "I am strong," Hiro declared, his voice quivering but resolute.

His father, now furious at being challenged by his own son, yelled, "Damn brat!" He lunged at Hiro, striking him repeatedly in the face. Hiro tried to protect himself, but the blows were too much for his small body. Eventually, his world faded to black.

Hiro awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. He was lying on a bed in the infirmary, the room quiet and empty. His breathing was rapid and heavy, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to him. As he calmed down, he looked around, disoriented, and wondered where he was.

The memories of that night, so vivid and painful, had haunted him in his sleep. Lying there in the infirmary, Hiro realized the nightmare was a stark reminder of his past, a past filled with pain and the harsh realities of life.

As he lay there, trying to gather his thoughts, Hiro's mind slowly returned to the present. The events that had led him to the infirmary began to come back to him. The realization of where he was and what had happened gradually set in, and Hiro started to piece together the events that had transpired before he lost consciousness. The tranquility of the infirmary room stood in stark contrast to the turmoil of his dream, offering him a temporary respite from the harsh memories of his past.

Hiro, feeling perplexed and somewhat disoriented, noted the absence of his stomach wound. It puzzled him, and he couldn't help but wonder how long he had been unconscious. Slowly, he got up from the infirmary bed, noting that he was shirtless, with only his sports trousers on, and his shoes and socks were missing.

He cautiously stepped out of the infirmary room and began to wander down the hallway. As he walked, he noticed the traditional architectural style of the structure, which added to his confusion. The corridors seemed unfamiliar and labyrinthine, making him feel even more lost.

Finally, Hiro managed to find his way to the courtyard. Bathed in moonlight, the area was serene and eerily quiet. He looked around at the traditional buildings surrounding him, their silhouettes casting long shadows under the moon's glow. The setting felt like a temple or some old historical site, far removed from any place Hiro remembered.

Reaching into his trouser pockets in search of his cellphone, his fingers found only emptiness. "Damn it," he whispered under his breath, a mix of frustration and concern in his voice. Without his phone, he felt even more disconnected, unable to contact anyone for help or information.

Standing alone in the moonlit courtyard, Hiro tried to piece together his situation. How did he end up here? Who brought him to this place? His thoughts were a jumble of questions with no immediate answers.

He knew he needed to find someone, anyone, who could tell him where he was and how he got there. With a deep breath, Hiro steeled himself for the task ahead and began to walk through the courtyard, hoping to find some clue or person to help him make sense of his mysterious surroundings. The night was still and quiet around him, the tranquility of the place a stark contrast to the turmoil inside his mind.

In the tranquil courtyard illuminated by the moon, Hiro heard a familiar voice. "Looks like you've woken up," Maki called out as she approached him. The moonlight draped over her, accentuating her features and giving her an ethereal quality. Hiro couldn't help but be captivated by the way the light played off her hair and the determined look in her eyes.

For a brief moment, Hiro was lost in admiration, his heart fluttering at the sight of her. The troubles and confusion he had felt upon waking seemed to fade into the background as he watched Maki move towards him with a grace that was both strong and comforting.

Maki smiled gently as she came closer. "I'm relieved to see you're doing better," she said warmly.

Hiro, momentarily caught off guard by her presence, managed to respond. "Thanks, Maki. But what happened? How did I get here?"

Maki's expression softened. "You were injured in the forest. I found you and brought you here to the infirmary at Jujutsu High. Shoko healed your wound," she explained, her tone conveying a mix of concern and relief.

Hiro's mind raced as he tried to piece together the events. "The forest... I can't remember much. Just bits and pieces," he admitted, his frustration evident.

Maki nodded, understanding his bewilderment. "You were in pretty bad shape when I found you. It's not surprising you can't remember. But you're safe now, that's what matters," she reassured him.

As they stood together under the moonlight, Hiro felt a surge of gratitude towards Maki. Her decisive action had likely saved his life. Despite the uncertainty surrounding his injury, Hiro found comfort in Maki's presence, her strength and concern dispelling some of the shadows that lingered in his mind. For now, he was content to simply be there with her, under the moonlit sky, a sense of calm settling over him.

"Naoya Zenin? Yes, I know him," Maki replied, her tone turning slightly cold at the mention of the name. "He's from the same clan as me. Naoya's known for his arrogance and disdain towards others. What about him?"

Hiro hesitated for a moment, then said, "He's the one who attacked me in the forest. I don't know why he targeted me."

Maki's expression hardened. "Naoya attacking someone unprovoked isn't surprising, but it's still concerning. He's dangerous and doesn't take others seriously, always underestimating those he deems beneath him."

Hiro nodded, understanding more about his attacker. "That sounds like the guy I met. I need to be more careful."

Maki looked at Hiro, her concern evident. "Just stay away from him, Hiro. Dealing with someone like Naoya is complicated, especially with the politics of the Jujutsu world."

Hiro could see the seriousness in Maki's eyes, realizing the gravity of his encounter with Naoya. He knew he had stumbled into a world far more complex and perilous than he had imagined.

Hiro, trying to lighten the mood, attempted to flirt with Maki. He flashed a charming smile and said, "Well, at least getting into trouble brought me to meet someone like you."

Maki, slightly taken aback, raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of thanking me for saving you?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Maybe," Hiro replied with a playful tone. "Or maybe I'm just realizing how lucky I am to be found by someone as strong and beautiful as you."

Maki couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "You really are something, Hiro Takashi. You get into a fight, end up injured, and here you are, flirting already."

Hiro's grin widened. "Well, can you blame me? I've always appreciated strength, and you've got that in spades."

Maki's smile lingered. "Just focus on recovering for now, Hiro. We can talk about your appreciation for strength later."

As they stood under the moonlight, Maki suggested to Hiro, "You should head back to the infirmary and get some more rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day." She then started to walk away.

In a bold move, Hiro reached out and gently grabbed Maki's hand, pulling her close to him. Their bodies were almost touching. "Now, I'm twice as enamored with you," he said earnestly.

Maki, taken by surprise, reacted quickly. She grabbed Hiro's arm and with a swift move, tossed him back to the ground. "Focus on healing, Hiro. No more of this for now," she said firmly, a hint of sternness in her voice.

As Maki walked away, Hiro remained on the ground, watching her leave. He couldn't help but smile, despite the rejection and the pain from the fall. Maki's strength and resolve were, after all, what had drawn him to her in the first place.

________

In the soft glow of the infirmary lights, Hiro Takashi lay on the bed, his thoughts a whirlpool of the night's revelations. The door opened, and Maki Zenin entered, her face a complex tapestry of concern and caution. Following her were two unfamiliar figures: a man with a blindfold and striking white hair, and a woman with an aura of quiet competence.

Maki approached the bedside. "How are you feeling, Hiro?"

"Better than expected," Hiro replied, recalling their earlier conversation.

The blindfolded man introduced himself with a hint of mischief in his voice. "I'm Satoru Gojo, and this is Shoko Ieiri, our healer. Welcome to Jujutsu High School."

Shoko nodded politely. "You've recovered remarkably well," she commented.

Hiro sat up, addressing Gojo. "Maki filled me in earlier about Jujutsu sorcerers and cursed spirits."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor giving way to surprise. "Oh? Maki's been quite talkative, it seems."

Maki shot Hiro a quick glance, a silent acknowledgment of their prior conversation.

Gojo leaned against a wall, crossing his arms. "Well, Hiro, you're now in a bit of a unique position. Knowledge of our world usually comes with certain... obligations."

Hiro's expression remained calm, but his mind raced. This was a crucial moment, a decision that could redefine his life.

Gojo continued, "You can return to your normal life, pretend this never happened. Or, you can embrace this new reality, join us at Jujutsu High, and learn to harness the cursed energy you're clearly connected to."

Hiro's eyes flickered with understanding. This was more than just a crossroads; it was a gateway to a world he never imagined being a part of.

"I'll join," Hiro said firmly. "I want to understand this world... and my place in it."

A smile returned to Gojo's face. "Then welcome to Jujutsu High, Hiro. Your journey into the realm of Jujutsu sorcery starts now."

Continuando con la escena:

---

Gojo's smile widened as Hiro's decision hung in the air. "Good choice," he said with a nod. "Actually, there's something I wanted to discuss with you, something rather intriguing."

Hiro, still processing his new reality, shifted his attention to Gojo.

"There's a prophecy," Gojo began, his tone shifting to one of seriousness. "It speaks of a sorcerer in this generation who will possess an unprecedented amount of cursed energy. Every now and then, a sorcerer is born with these remarkable traits. And, according to a certain diviner, this sorcerer should be among us already."

Hiro listened intently, a sense of destiny wrapping around him.

Gojo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We suspect that sorcerer might be you, Hiro. It's just a hunch for now, but we're planning to have the diviner confirm this."

Hiro's eyes widened. "Me? But I didn't even know about cursed energy until recently."

"That's what makes it all the more fascinating," Gojo said, his eyes crinkling with intrigue. "Your latent abilities, the way your energy was sealed and then unleashed, it's unusual."

Hiro absorbed this information, a mix of disbelief and curiosity blooming within him. "So, what happens if this prophecy is about me?"

Gojo straightened up. "If it is, it means you have a significant role to play in the Jujutsu world. Your power could be a major asset... or a potential threat. It's essential we understand and guide it properly."

Shoko added, "That's why your training here will be crucial, Hiro."

Hiro nodded slowly. The weight of this prophecy, the possibility of being this fabled sorcerer, was daunting yet exhilarating. "When will this diviner arrive?"

"Soon," Gojo replied. "But for now, rest. You've had a long night, and the road ahead is even longer."

As Gojo, Shoko, and Maki left the infirmary, Hiro lay back on his bed, the ceiling blurring as his mind raced with the possibilities. The prophecy, his newfound abilities, the unknown journey ahead – it was overwhelming, yet Hiro couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the heart of it all.

A few minutes after Gojo, Shoko, and Maki had left, the door to the infirmary creaked open again. Maki re-entered, this time carrying a plate of steaming rice. She offered it to Hiro with a gentle smile.

"Thought you might be hungry," she said, placing the plate on the bedside table.

Hiro sat up, gratefully accepting the food. "Thanks, Maki."

As he ate, Maki watched him, her expression thoughtful. "Hiro, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Hiro replied between bites.

"Why did you agree so quickly to become a sorcerer? You know this might mean giving up your boxing career, right?"

Hiro paused, setting the plate down. He looked at Maki, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "I'm already a world champion – rich, famous. I love boxing, but my story there has ended. My goal has always been to be the strongest, and now there's a whole new world to conquer."

Maki listened intently, her eyes never leaving Hiro's.

Hiro continued, "Becoming a sorcerer... it's a new challenge, a new way to test my limits. And," he added with a slight smile, "it means I get to spend more time with you."

Maki blushed slightly but quickly composed herself. "I see. Well, being a sorcerer isn't easy. It's dangerous, and it's a lot different than boxing."

"I know," Hiro acknowledged. "But I'm ready for it. I've always adapted, always overcome. This is just the next step."

Maki nodded, a sense of respect and perhaps something more growing in her eyes. "I'll help you as much as I can. But remember, it's not just about being strong. There's a lot to learn about cursed energy and the responsibilities that come with it."

Hiro met her gaze, a determined glint in his eyes. "I'm ready to learn. And I'm glad you're here with me, Maki."

As they talked, the room seemed to shrink, the world outside fading away. In that moment, it was just Hiro and Maki, two souls at the brink of a new and thrilling journey, bound by a shared destiny and an unspoken connection that was just beginning to unfold.

Continuing the scene:

---

Days passed, and the rhythm of Jujutsu High settled around Hiro. In the classroom, Panda, Inumaki, Yuta, and Maki were in the middle of a discussion when the door slid open with a flourish. Satoru Gojo entered, his usual grin plastered across his face.

"Everyone, we have a new student joining us today," Gojo announced, gesturing towards the door.

Hiro stepped into the classroom, his posture confident, almost bordering on arrogance. "I'm Hiro Takashi," he declared, scanning the room. His eyes briefly met Maki's, acknowledging their prior connection, and then landed on Inumaki, with whom he shared a subtle nod of recognition.

Panda's eyes lit up. "The Hiro Takashi? The boxing champion?" he asked, barely containing his excitement.

Hiro smirked, "One and the same."

Inumaki, ever the man of few words, simply gave a thumbs up, while Yuta observed Hiro with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

Gojo clapped his hands together. "Hiro here is new to our world, but he's got potential. Let's make sure he feels welcome."

Maki, leaning against the wall, spoke up. "Don't let his boxing fame get to your heads. He's here to learn, just like the rest of us."

Hiro glanced at her, his smirk widening. "Don't worry, Maki. I'm not here to steal the spotlight, just to be the best, as always."

Yuta, finally speaking, asked, "How do you plan to balance boxing and Jujutsu training?"

Hiro's expression turned serious. "Boxing was my life, but now, I've got a new challenge. I intend to master this world of Jujutsu, just like I did in the ring."

Panda clapped his hands in admiration. "That's the spirit! It's not every day we get a celebrity in our midst."

Gojo motioned for Hiro to take a seat. "Alright, let's get started. Today's lesson is on curse manipulation."

As Hiro took his seat, the classroom buzzed with a new energy. His arrival marked not just the addition of a new student, but the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of everyone at Jujutsu High.