The halls of Tokyo Jujutsu High weren't haunted, per se.
But when you're a sorcerer living in a dorm built on sacred, cursed land, you start to question every creak, shadow, and sudden chill in the air. And Ren had excellent cursed perception.
Which meant sleep was a luxury he rarely enjoyed.
At 2:47 AM, Ren sat upright in bed, shirtless, sweat clinging to his skin like oil. His breathing was shallow. His eyes wide. Something had moved outside his door.
And whatever it was—it didn't belong.
Ren activated his cursed water slowly, letting a thin ribbon of it slither around his wrist like a sentient bracelet. His innate technique glowed faintly in the dark, casting neon-blue reflections against the walls. The water didn't hiss. It listened.
He stepped silently toward the door and opened it just enough to peek.
The hallway was empty.
Dead quiet.
Then his eyes narrowed.
A wet footprint.
One.
Two.
Leading toward the stairwell.
He followed.
He didn't wake anyone. Not Megumi, not Nobara, and definitely not Gojo. Whatever this was—it was subtle. Too subtle for an ordinary curse.
The trail led him down to the storage level, beneath the school. Old dojo mats, sealed scrolls, rusting weapons, cursed tools too unstable to use—all of it stored in silence.
The cursed water around his wrist pulsed once.
Danger.
A whisper brushed his ear.
"So... this is the reborn one."
Ren turned, heart pounding.
Standing at the far end of the room was a humanoid figure. Its body was hunched, stretched unnaturally tall. It had no face—just black flesh with shifting cracks like dried blood. A cursed spirit, no doubt—but one with intelligence.
Ren lowered his stance, calling more cursed water into his palms. The floor under him shimmered with glowing droplets.
"How did you get in?" he asked, voice even.
The spirit tilted its head. "Same way you did. I wasn't born. I was summoned."
Ren felt a twist in his gut.
That meant this thing wasn't just a random encounter.
It had come for him.
Technique Activation: Rivaiazan no Kyū.
Ren summoned a swirling barrier of cursed water around him. The pressure in the room shifted—the air became dense, like underwater silence pressing against skin.
The spirit lunged.
Fast.
Faster than a typical Grade 2. It moved like smoke with weight, like a person that had forgotten how to be human.
Ren twisted, letting the barrier deflect its claws. The impact boomed, spraying cursed water in every direction, some of it instantly boiling as it met the spirit's body.
Then the spirit spoke again.
"You are the drowned king's vessel."
Ren froze.
"What did you say?"
The spirit's hand pierced through his barrier.
Ren barely dodged.
He backflipped, skidding against the floor, and flicked cursed water from his fingertips in retaliation.
Technique Activation: Shizukana Ushio.
A pressurized jet of cursed water launched toward the spirit's neck—silent, deadly, precise.
But the spirit moved at the last second, the water cutting clean through one of its shoulders instead.
It didn't even flinch.
Instead, it smiled with no mouth.
"You don't remember... but the tides do. When the sea awakens, all will sink."
Ren's breathing quickened. His cursed water surged, responding to his heart rate. The glowing aura around him intensified.
"Okay," Ren muttered. "Creepy cryptic dialogue? Check. Mention of a mysterious sea god? Double check."
The spirit raised its hand again.
But this time—
Ren didn't wait.
He threw a palm forward.
Technique Activation: Uchi Naru Daikōzui.
A small needle of cursed water flew into the spirit's torso—subtle, unnoticed.
Ren snapped his fingers.
Boom.
The spirit's midsection imploded, cursed water erupting from inside it like a ruptured dam. Chunks of dark flesh splattered across the dojo wall.
The spirit screamed.
But not in pain.
In ecstasy.
"You are the one," it hissed, its form unraveling.
Then—before Ren could land a final blow—the spirit collapsed into a puddle of black water and sank through the floor.
Gone.
Ren stumbled back, breathing hard, arm shaking from cursed energy output.
"What the hell was that?"
Ten minutes later, Ren stood in the training yard, Gojo across from him, now wide awake.
"I told you to call me when weird things happened," Gojo said, rubbing his temples.
Ren threw his arms out. "It was 3 AM! I thought it was a rat."
Gojo looked unimpressed.
"And then it said I was the 'vessel of the drowned king' or something and just… exploded and vanished. What does that even mean?"
Gojo didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he sat down cross-legged, expression suddenly serious.
"You said it used water? Not just any cursed energy?"
Ren nodded. "Like mine, but corrupted."
Gojo chewed on that for a second.
"That confirms something Yaga and I have been suspecting. Your cursed technique—Shin'en no Yoake—isn't just powerful. It's old. Ancient. We think it may be tied to something beyond the modern jujutsu world. Something from before the Heian era."
Ren blinked. "You're saying my water technique is... a hand-me-down from a cursed god?"
Gojo smirked. "Wouldn't be the weirdest thing."
Then he stood and dusted off his pants. "From now on, we'll train harder. You're not just a student anymore. You're a target."
Ren winced. "More training? But I just—"
Gojo vanished.
"—fought a demon. Ugh."
The next morning, Nobara leaned over the breakfast table, eyebrow raised.
"You look like hell."
Ren stirred his miso soup. "Haunted hallway. Faceless creep. Exploding water demon. You know, the usual."
Megumi squinted. "You fought a curse last night?"
"Not just any curse," Ren muttered. "A talking one."
Nobara looked delighted. "You're already getting secret boss battles? That's so unfair!"
"I almost died!"
"Still. Lucky."
Ren dropped his forehead onto the table with a thud.
"I want to go back to being a background character…"
Megumi snorted. "Too late for that."
Later that afternoon, Ren was assigned a solo mission—to exorcise a lingering Grade 3 curse in a nearby hospital. Routine. Low risk.
Except now, every ripple in the air made him pause.
Every shadow on the wall felt like a drowned memory.
The cursed water he once feared was now his greatest ally. It responded to him faster than before—more instinct than intent.
As he walked down the hospital's empty hallway, Ren whispered to himself:
"If this is the weak-to-strong arc, I'd like to cash in the strong part now, please."
A door creaked open ahead of him.
Time to get to work.