Give him the body?
Sōjun Minamoto's mind stirred, but his face didn't show a trace of reaction.
He wasn't sure whether Kenjaku had analyzed his technique—his ability to assimilate and make others' Cursed Techniques his own—or if this was just a test.
But either way, Sōjun didn't flinch.
If the other party dared to offer, he dared to accept.
Kenjaku smiled and extended his right hand for a handshake.
Sōjun glanced at it, eyes thoughtful, watching how casually it was offered.
Then he reached out as well.
Kenjaku leaned in slightly, pushing his hand forward so their grips met quicker...
...The Binding Vow was sealed.
A black ring of light flared to life on the back of Sōjun's hand.
A crimson streak shot across first, erasing half the mark—then stained Kenjaku's palm.
On both their hands, half a circular sigil appeared—one red, one black.
...
...
They'd just stabbed each other in the back while agreeing to cooperate.
Sōjun recalled their meeting in Aragami Village—Kenjaku had approached him without hesitation back then too.
At the time, he'd assumed Kenjaku had some cursed tool to neutralize techniques, or an unknown ability that gave him such boldness.
But now, it was clear: Kenjaku didn't care about the vessel at all. At the very least, he had the ability to shift his soul out of the body at any moment.
Everyone already knew Sōjun could affect the soul directly. That alone made people wary.
"Hahaha~ We really are alike. I'll come find you again when the plan begins."
Kenjaku's gleeful voice echoed in Sōjun's mind... and slowly faded.
He was no longer inside the Zenin man. This was either a remote technique or a pre-recorded message.
He was still being cautious.
Sōjun's technique hadn't just targeted the man's body—it had reached for Kenjaku's soul itself. But the guy was a master of experience and reflexes.
Sōjun had sensed him forming the Binding Vow from the beginning.
Kenjaku had talked endlessly on their way here, subtly steering the conversation. The moment Sōjun agreed to cooperate, the terms were set—shaking hands meant accepting them.
The primary clause: no harm to each other during the partnership.
Kenjaku had tried slipping in a few bonus conditions in his favor too, but Sōjun had quietly stripped those away through selective assimilation.
A Binding Vow was a curse. Until it was fully locked in, both parties had room to maneuver—one could add, the other could subtract.
Sōjun looked at the mark on his hand.
These ancient sorcerers, alive for over a thousand years...
Frankly, they were a pain.
Both Kenjaku and Tengen shared a particular trait:
Binding Vows required both parties to be aware—but through subtle speech or seemingly harmless gestures, they could change or insert conditions without drawing notice. You'd hear the words, but never realize you'd agreed to them.
That talent was carved into their very bones.
Sōjun guessed it had to be a survival instinct born from the Heian era. If you didn't master these tricks, someone else who had would destroy you.
It spoke volumes about how dangerous—and how powerful—the Jujutsu world had been back then.
Jujutsu today was growing, sure. But it was still far from that level.
Sōjun had learned caution after being burned by Tengen once. That loss made him sharper.
In the end, dealing with Curse Users like this always came down to one thing—who was willing to sink lower.
But even as he thought this, a spark of anticipation lit within him. If these ancient sorcerers were successfully reborn through flesh vessels... what kind of clash would that bring?
Shattering this stagnant world order—that would be the true start of his ideals.
He snapped out of it and looked at the Zenin man. The red sigil was gone from his hand. That mark had imprinted on Kenjaku's soul—it would only reappear on whatever body he possessed next.
The mark represented their mutual constraint—a cursed link between them.
Sōjun felt a twinge of regret. He'd come so close to assimilating Kenjaku.
It wasn't his Cursed Technique that interested him—it was the culmination of a thousand years of planning, methods, and research.
The red light on the Zenin man's body soon turned to black lines, which Sōjun gathered into his palm.
He could have absorbed it into his Star Eyes—but chose not to.
Kenjaku was likely still watching from nearby. Best to conceal techniques like assimilation and curse-plundering for now.
Mystery was his best weapon against foes like this.
And in that department, he had the upper hand. His head held plenty of fragmented memories of Kenjaku—records, reports. For now, it was all data. But the more they interacted, the more accurate that data would become.
Kenjaku was starting to intrigue him more and more.
Sōjun absorbed the Zenin man's body into a swirling black vortex. He stepped in—and with one more step, reappeared at Jujutsu High.
Everyone already knew about his space-jumping ability. No point hiding it.
As he made his way back to the dorms, he began to reflect on what he'd gained from this meeting with Kenjaku.
The man's technique was a forbidden one—transplanting his brain into new hosts. It allowed him to keep his own technique while gaining the abilities and memories of the bodies he took over...
The more he thought about it, the more incredible it seemed.
Kenjaku was down to just a brain, yet he could still use the original Cursed Technique.
Even after taking over a new body—where the original soul had undoubtedly been erased—the technique remained fully intact.
And more than that, he could carry techniques from previous bodies into the next.
He had to have some kind of unique preservation method.
It was too fascinating.
Sōjun Minamoto could preserve assimilated techniques too, which only deepened his appreciation for how unusual Kenjaku's method was.
His own process involved engraving the technique onto his eye, which required perfect unity between soul and body. That meant even his soul-body's eye had a corresponding engraving. Only when the two aligned was the technique complete.
But Kenjaku could achieve full preservation with just a single brain—and not just one technique, but multiple.
How did he resolve the inherent conflicts between techniques?
How did he withstand the mental strain of holding them all?
Even after such a brief encounter, Sōjun's interest in Kenjaku had already surpassed his curiosity about Itadori or even Sukuna.
The research potential of the Zenin man's body had risen in his eyes as well.
...
Back in his dorm, Sōjun released the Zenin man's body and restored it to its original state. It stood silently before him.
Having fully assimilated it, Sōjun could perceive its condition with total clarity.
The brain was gone, just as Kenjaku had said. But the technique remained.
Sōjun examined it closely. The source of cursed energy was intact. As for the soul...
Fragments still lingered—pieces that corresponded directly to parts of the technique, completely fused with the matching areas of the body.
As expected, a technique couldn't exist without both soul and flesh.
He could now comprehend Kenjaku's preservation method—but even then, he realized he couldn't replicate it. Especially the soul-flesh fusion part... that had to be a result of Kenjaku's forbidden technique.
There were definitely strict limitations. If there weren't, Kenjaku would have amassed far more techniques across his thousand-year lifespan.
Sōjun found himself curious about just how many techniques the man currently had.
But after further research, he realized this body wasn't representative—it was a unique case.
For one, there were no stitches on the forehead. No visible Binding Vow. Not even a scar from having them removed.
That had to be a restraint of some kind.
But whether it was tied to the forbidden technique itself or the retention of the Cursed Technique was unclear.
Originally, the absence of stitches after Kenjaku occupied the body suggested the latter.
But thinking back, when Kenjaku slipped away under his nose, there was no physical brain transferring between bodies. Clearly, this vessel had been claimed through some other special method.
Could the forbidden technique be cast in different ways?
Sōjun kept that thought filed away.
He broke the body down into a flow of cursed sigils, then engraved parts of the technique onto both the soul and physical eyes.
There was still much unknown about Kenjaku's technique—but this much was already a significant gain. He could take his time learning the rest.
Uncovering all the answers now would only kill the thrill.
This time, he'd acquired the Ten Shadows Technique, and all it had cost him was a simple clause in their Binding Vow: don't harm the other party during the cooperation period.
Not a bad deal at all.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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