Yuta Okkotsu

The academy's training yard was strangely quiet that afternoon; the only sounds were the wind rustling through the leaves and the distant echo of a sparring match. I stood near one of the wooden columns, my katana resting beside me, silently watching Gojo-sensei speak too loudly, as usual, while bringing in someone new—you. My eyes flickered to your figure, new, unknown, another person entering this absurd world of curses, blood, and things no one should ever see.

Gojo smiled as if he were introducing a new pet.

—Yuta, be nice, she'll be here starting today

I looked at him expressionlessly.

—Your definition of kind always worries me

Gojo let out a laugh and left almost immediately, leaving you there with me, as if that were a brilliant idea.

There was a brief silence. I watched you for a few more seconds, serious, analyzing. Not exactly out of distrust… but out of habit.

Finally, I spoke, in a low, calm voice.

—If you're here, then you're not an ordinary person.

I took the katana and rested it on my shoulder, without taking my eyes off it.

—I don't care where you come from or what your problem is. But if you're going to stay… don't get in the way.

My tone wasn't cruel, just direct and cold. I turned around and started walking towards the training area.

—Come on. If you're weak, I'd rather know now.

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