The day started like any other. Peaceful. Quiet. Devoid of human interaction.
Then my phone rang.
I should have ignored it.
With a sigh, I glanced at the caller ID. Mom.
I groaned. She never called for a good reason.
"What?" I answered, my voice as lifeless as my enthusiasm for this conversation.
"That's how you greet your mother? No 'good morning'? No 'I love you, Mom'? I raised you better than this."
"I'm sure you tried."
"Oh, I tried, alright." Her voice took on that suspiciously sweet tone that made my instincts scream danger. "And now, I've finally had enough! You're too closed off! Do you know what people are calling you behind your back?"
"A mystery? A legend?"
"A loner with no future!"
I blinked. That was new. "I don't see the problem."
Mom sighed—the deep, disappointed sigh of a mother about to ruin her son's life. "Sweetie..."
Goosebumps. Immediate, full-body goosebumps.
"...you have too much potential to waste away doing nothing. So—"
"Hey, Mom, you're breaking up! I think the signal's bad! I'll just—"
I felt it. The fluctuation of cursed energy.
Behind me.
"Ryota Fujimura." Her voice was no longer coming just from the phone.
I froze.
*Goddamn it.*
Slowly, I turned. There she was—blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and the kind of face that could make men stupid. I had inherited her looks, which I suppose was nice. Unfortunately, I'd also inherited her persistence.
And right now, she was standing behind the couch, arms crossed, wearing the half-angry, half-exasperated face all deadbeat sons knew too well.
"I... thought you were supposed to be busy investigating that special grade in Okinawa."
"As I was saying," she continued, ignoring my very reasonable question, "I've made an executive decision."
My gut clenched. No. Not again.
I swallowed. "...What kind of decision?"
"You have two choices! One: Get a girlfriend. A real one. Not a manga character. Not a VR romance. Not some online friend living too far away which you use to ward me off. A living, breathing girl."
I hesitated. "...And option two?"
"Arranged marriage with a powerful jujutsu sorcerer family! A colleague of mine from the Kamo clan mentioned a proposal during the last meeting. The Zenins showed interest. Oh! And there's a lovely girl from the Fujiwara—"
"Mom!"
"Choose! Girlfriend or marriage?"
My grip tightened around my phone. The device crumpled like paper in my enhanced grip.
Mom didn't even flinch. "That's coming out of your allowance."
"That's insane! I'm not even a registered sorcerer! Why would sorcerer families be interested in me?!"
She finally found something happy to talk about, beaming as she spoke.
"Oh, you think I wouldn't brag about my perfect, absurdly talented, ridiculously strong son? A son with abilities that make Special Grade look like child's play? Honey, your existence alone makes you a high-value asset."
I stared at her. "I hate that. I hate everything about that."
"Then stop being such a social hermit." She clapped her hands. "Otherwise, my colleagues will think I failed at parenting. You have six months! If you don't give me a find, then I'll pick you a wife."
I had no words. This was extortion. Parental extortion.
"You wouldn't," I muttered. "You couldn't."
"Honey, I'm already booking a flight to Tokyo."
I dropped my crushed phone. "Tokyo?! Why Tokyo?!"
"To get you some help, of course! You're too closed off, and what better way to get you used to kids your age than by enrolling you at Jujutsu Tech?"
...Ah.
I was done for.
There were no kids like me. I meant that quite literally. I hadn't met anyone else who was reborn from another world into a fictional universe they already knew about, complete with the ability to raid the entire multiverse like it was my personal storage unit.
"No! You can't do this!" I protested, watching helplessly as she walked toward the door, radiating absolute authority.
She turned back, giving me the warmest, most loving, and utterly terrifying smile.
"Ryota, I've decided," my mother, Fujimura Reika, announced like a general deploying troops.
"You're going to Jujutsu High."
This was how my life fell apart.
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