Jujutsu Kaisen: I Can Manipulate Time.

Gojo Satoru had left to assist Yuta Okkotsu abroad, leaving Kamihara Hajime to take on minor assignments. Under Gojo's guidance, Hajime had also learned the art of delegation—disguising laziness as training.

He handed off basic missions to Megumi and the others. The three first-years were all extremely capable, and routine tasks barely challenged them, giving Hajime an excuse to enjoy some downtime.

But rest couldn't last forever. As the only Special Grade Sorcerer remaining in the country, high-level assignments still found their way to him.

"No mission intel? Just that the targets range from Grade 1 to Special Grade?"

Hajime's tone was light as he addressed the woman seated across from him. Normally, his smile had a calming effect, but now, it made the young woman visibly anxious.

"Terui Mizuori, you're from Headquarters, right? Is this how those old fossils assign missions now?"

His smile faded, and his eyes sharpened with pressure. "No intel, no official dispatch, just someone sent privately to deliver a vague assignment? Either they've completely lost their minds or they think I'm some pawn they can toss around."

Mizuori sat stiffly, sweat threatening to form. These top-level sorcerers were terrifying enough, and Kamihara Hajime was one of the worst to provoke.

"S-Someone will explain soon," she stammered. Taking a bulky, old-fashioned phone from her bag, she pressed a number. The call connected almost instantly.

"Sir..." she said, then placed the phone on the table in front of Hajime.

He leaned back, tapping the armrest with disinterest, not bothering to speak. The silence stretched painfully.

At last, an aged voice broke through the speaker. "Kamihara Hajime, this old man is from Headquarters. I'm also the dispatcher of this mission..."

Hajime scoffed. "You've got nerve. Can't even say your name? Trying to hide behind a phone?"

The voice replied without agitation. "I am Kazuyuki Suzuki. As for the mission, the lack of intel is deliberate. Absolute secrecy is required. But rest assured, it's well within your ability. We've all seen what you're capable of."

Hajime narrowed his eyes and brought the phone closer. "And you think I'm your errand boy? After that mess you pulled trying to eliminate Yuji, now you want me to blindly walk into another setup? Why? Because you're too scared to deal with me face-to-face?"

Suzuki's voice remained mechanical. "If you prefer, we can speak in person. But before that, Mizuori will give you the item tied to the mission."

She handed over a document. Hajime took one glance—and his demeanor shifted. He read it again. Then again.

"This... you're actually disclosing this kind of intelligence?"

"Everything will make sense once you arrive. And the reward is detailed in the file."

Hajime fell silent. The intel was more valuable than the reward itself. It didn't make sense for the higher-ups—who were at odds with Gojo Satoru—to share this with him. What was their angle?

"Fine. I'll go. Where?"

"Ohmachi, Hokkaido."

---

Ohmachi had once been a quiet coastal village. Now it was deserted. Villagers were gone, homes abandoned, and every key point was under lockdown by teams in black suits.

At the village's entrance, two distinct groups stood under a large tree. On one side: a blond, handsome man gazing out at the sea; a muscular wild-looking man with spiked hair; and a refined man with a small braid. Opposite them: two men in traditional kimonos, expressions fixed in that empty, polite smile.

"Zen'in Naoya," Kamo Kensaku muttered, "Gojo's disciple is almost here. They say his Technique goes beyond speed. Why bring him in? This incident's serious, sure, but not unmanageable."

Zen'in Naoya's expression sharpened. "Because the cover-up failed. That thing was stolen. If Gojo finds out, he might actually wipe them out. Better to leak the intel through his student and save face. They're still trying to win that Special Grade over, too."

"Do they really think someone like him can be won over?" Kensaku asked lazily.

Naoya smirked. "Old men dreaming. But I admit... I'm curious about him."

A car pulled up, cutting the conversation short. Terui Mizuori stepped out with a second figure. The young man had tied-back dark hair, a black magatama earring, and a sharp, elegant appearance. Despite his refined look, the pressure he gave off silenced the crowd.

Was this Kamihara Hajime, the Special Grade Sorcerer rumored to have defeated multiple Special Grade Curses alone? The one with the Time Technique?

Hajime glanced around. His gaze landed on Naoya, who was already eyeing him with something between fascination and challenge.

Terui introduced both groups. Hajime sized them up. "Zen'in and Kamo? So you're part of this 'Artificial Sorcerer' mess?"

Kensaku smiled thinly. "Hardly. Just small contributors. Headquarters is in charge."

Naoya stepped forward. "Kamihara Hajime... they say you're the fastest sorcerer—"

"Step aside, nobody."

Naoya hadn't finished speaking before a brutal force knocked him backward. His face twisted in humiliation and rage.

He vanished, reappearing behind Hajime with his hand formed into a blade. Just as he thrust it forward—

His target disappeared.

Naoya's Projection Sorcery froze him for a moment. Hajime grabbed his wrist, ready to throw him—only for Naoya to counter and strike Hajime's abdomen with a series of afterimages.

Hajime stumbled back, inspecting the imprint on his chest. "So that's the Zen'in Projection Technique... Naobito's legacy."

"But still too weak."

Naoya sneered. "Is that so? This time I'll—"

Hajime entered a Time Null State, closed the distance instantly, and punched Naoya square in the jaw, returning every hit he'd received earlier with interest.

Then came a sharp kick to the ribs.

Naoya was launched backward—but Hajime caught up midair, grabbed his face, and slammed him into the dirt.

The ground cracked beneath the impact. Naoya lay motionless, face a mess of blood and shame.

The two Zen'in sorcerers rushed in, but before they could reach him, both dropped to the ground, hit by invisible force.

Turning to the Kamo side, Hajime asked with a calm smile, "Do you want to step in too?"

Kensaku stepped back quickly. "No, no, not at all. He provoked you—I can testify to that."

Hajime turned back, raised his foot, and pressed it on Naoya's head.

"Because of Maki and others, I already despised the Zen'in clan. And now? Trash. Rotting filth pretending to matter."

Naoya, face red, purple, and bruised, trembled with fury—but didn't dare move under Hajime's pressure.

At that moment, a stern-looking man approached. "Kamihara Hajime, I'm Kazuyuki Suzuki, here to explain the mission in full."

Hajime didn't move his foot.

A Zen'in sorcerer suddenly shouted, "Let go of Naoya!"

Illusory eyes appeared in the air. Cursed Energy surged.

Hajime blinked. "Trying to restrict me? Cute."

Moments later, both attackers lay broken. One with bleeding eyes. The other pinned by a blade.

Hajime pulled Onikiri free with disgust.

"Zen'in ideology—'Only true sorcerers are human'? Ridiculous."

He sheathed his blade and walked off without another glance. Killing them here would be messy. Besides, this beating should be enough to send a message.

Strike at the spirit—not the body.

---

Want to support? Or you want to read 60 chapters in advance?

Become a patron.

Patreon.com/Zphyr_