School

Jujutsu High, Tokyo, Japan....

In a rather small classroom, about 6 students sat with extremely bored expressions on their faces, listening to the incessant chatter of their teacher before them.

History was probably the most annoying course to study and pass in Jujutsu High, and coupled with the evil that lurked within the world, the students had to spend all of their time on strengthening their abilities in order not to become cannon fodder. This made it all the more difficult to study history as a course.

"Alright, Id like to pause here for today..."

The moment the teacher spoke, all the students heaved a relieved sigh and placed their heads on the tables in exhaustion.

*BEEP!!*

Hearing his phone beep, the teacher, a middle aged man with a huge sideburns and even bigger temper took out his phone and answered the call.

"Alright class! I just heard that a new student is on his way to join this class..."

The teacher spoke, looking at the Now enthusiastic faces of the youths.

"You guys should treat him really well, now I don't want any complains, you got that?!"

"Yes...."

He roared out, as the students responded in unison.

*KNOCK!*

Suddenly, hearing the knock on the classroom door, the teacher straightened his shirt and put up the most amicable smile he could muster and walked to the door.

Pushing the door open, he witnessed two youths one of which he knew already, with nonchalant expressions on their faces, staring at him.

"Satoru..."

The teacher nodded, acknowledging the presence of the heir of the Gojo clan.

"Mishima sensei, it's been a while.."

Satoru flashed a mocking smile at the teacher which caused him to sigh in exasperation. To date his most valuable memory was the day he heard that the troublesome student Gojo Satoru was leaving his class. On that day, he partied alone and slept soundly, as if all of his troubles had disappeared.

"You better treat him well, he's my cousin after all.."

Satoru spoke with a loud voice, making his intentions clear to everyone in the class including Mishima, the teacher, before he left in a rush. No one messes with the family of the great Gojo Satoru.

Shrugging in annoyance, Kenshin shook his head and entered the class after being gestured to by the teacher.

"Okay, since you're new here, I want to welcome you on behalf of the class. My name is Mishima Aoto. If you don't mind, can you tell us your name, your grade and if possible, a bit about your cursed Technique..."

Mishima sensei spoke, standing beside Kenshin who now faced the class.

"Hayato Kenshin, Special Grade...." The moment Kenshin spoke, a deafening silence resounded, as everyone's eyes instantly gazed at him, as if trying to gauge and measure his competency.

"My Cursed Technique is a bit special, but I call it the Six Paths.."

He nodded and didn't bothered to explain further.

"Mmm! Okay, thank you for your introduction, you can go have a seat..."

Mishima sensei cleated his throat after a second of awkward silence and gestured to Kenshin.

Walking to a seat in the middle of the class, he was unbothered by the weird looks from the boys and even the girls, as he sat by a blonde haired youth with droopy eyes.

Normally, he would've preferred to sit near the window so he could occasionally glance at the beautiful scenery, but seeing the class of 2 boys and two girls and how everyone was seated in the middle columns, he had to at least act normal and sit by them.

"Oi, whatsup my boy..." Suddenly, hearing an annoying tone of voice next to him, Kenshin looked beside him only to see the droopy eyes youth staring at him with a smile.

He immediately turned around to be sure if he was the one being spoken to, before he looked back at the youth and nodded as a form of greeting.

"You know, I can tell you're not from around here. First off, your accent is a bit off. It has this kinda western vibes to it. Not that it ain't cool though... Secondly, you don't look completely Japanese. I mean the blue hair is also cool and all that but..."

Sighing at the incessant chatterbox beside him, Kenshin wondering how wrong the day could go.

"Anyway, my name is Akihito Hiroshi. I'm a second grade...cough! Cough!!"

The boy was about to introduce himself when he let out a fierce cough, as if his lungs were being sucked out by an unknown force..

Meanwhile, Kenshin couldn't help but sigh once more, as he paid attention to the new teacher in the classroom who was educating the class on cursed spirits and their ranks.

"Sensei, I read a book once on a cursed spirit known as Ryoumen Sukuna, and how he was the strongest curse in about a thousand years ago. Can you explain his origins to us.."

Suddenly, a dark haired beautiful young woman raised her hand and asked a question which caught Kenshin's interest.

"Fine." The teacher, a young man in a black shirt, an assistant to Mishima sensei sighed and rubbed his forehead, wondering why he chose to accept this job in the first place.

"Ryoumen Sukuna was a human, a Jujutsu sorcerer who existed during the Heian Era. Through unnatural means he transformed himself into a cursed spirit and began feasting upon humans as livestock. During his era, he was attacked by several high ranking clans of Jujutsu Sorcerers, yet in the end, he prevailed, wiping some of these clans from the annals of history. He then cemented his legacy as the king of curses...."

The man spoke in one breath as the students carefully listened, including Kenshin whose expression was a bit heavy at the end.

Could it have been that the Hayato clan had been part of the clans that Ryoumen Sukuna had wiped off? If so, then how were his father and Satoru's mom even born? Could it be that some managed to survive the onslaught?

The questions bombarded his mind in a moment, and he struggled to make meaning out of them.

*RING!!!*

After a hour or two of more and more history lessons, the bell finally rang, indicating that classroom lessons were over.

Picking up his small school bag, Kenshin was about to leave when Hiroshi called out to him. Without even turning back, he rushed out o the classroom, not wanting to be subject to his incessant chatter.