Page 6: Ideals vs. Rotten Reality
Tsurugi stares at those grotesque arms and throws out a question that cuts deeper than any blade: did their owner ever think of using that power for someone else?
The old man only sneers. To him, words about helping others are just soft, sentimental nonsense. Live long enough, he says, and pure feelings curdle into malice.
Tsurugi doesn’t deny the darkness. In his view, no matter how much people struggle, killing each other is an inescapable destiny.
But the old man points out the contradiction: despite that, humans keep trying anyway. Some even cling to hollow ideals, refusing to let them go.
Tsurugi answers with a chilling sort of praise—the more the old man talks like that, the easier it is to cut him down.
Yet there’s a twist in his words. People repeatedly regain awareness, stand back up, and try again. That stubbornness is exactly why Tsurugi draws his blade.
Page 7: The Old Man Who Never Wanted to Grow Up
A flashback slices into the present.
Hand in hand under falling cherry blossoms. Student numbers assigned at enrollment, reducing identity to a code. A world that defines worth through grades and evaluations, boxing a child into neatly labeled categories.
The old man’s narration sounds almost gentle: he loved being an elementary school student. So much that he wished he could stay a child forever.
In the present, the sound effect creaks through the panel—ミキミキ… (Miki miki…), like bones twisting, joints grinding, reality itself bending out of shape.
Tsurugi doesn’t flinch. His response is as sharp as his sword: this kind of confession only makes it simpler to cut the old sorcerer down.
But he also circles back to his earlier point—people keep waking up to themselves and trying again, no matter how many times they break. That is the contradiction he’s willing to fight over.
Page 8: A Tragedy Born from a Fading Mind
The narration finally lays it bare: this entire incident began with the rampage of an elderly jujutsu sorcerer suffering from cognitive decline.
As the old man walks away in the flashback, his thoughts are stuck in the same loop—he really loved being an elementary school kid and never wanted to grow up.
He speaks of a blind spot humans rarely notice: the gap between what they think they can do and what they actually can’t. That disconnect becomes lethal when the person in question wields jujutsu.
Tsurugi quietly admits that he now understands the old man’s feelings. Not to excuse him—but to truly grasp the twisted logic behind the bloodshed.
The old man gives a crooked smile. Since Tsurugi claims to understand, he’ll pass on one last lesson: the trick to keeping your sanity intact.
Page 9: Simple Domain “Ma-ai!!”
The battlefield tightens.
A “Simple Domain”—“Ma-ai!!”—unfolds. This isn’t some grand, overwhelming domain expansion, but a focused technique built around distance and perception.
Inside the old man’s head, the evaluation begins. This brat actually knows simple domain? By swapping pure physical technique for cursed energy, Tsurugi has honed an instinctive sense for range and spacing. It’s a natural-born physical talent, weaponized through jujutsu.
He not only handles cursed energy, he’s also mastered a simple domain on top of that. For someone so young, his fundamentals are anything but average.
Steel and willpower collide.
SFX rings out: ガチン ガチン (Gachin, gachin) — clash, clash, blades and curses grinding against each other in tight, lethal intervals.
Page 10: The Calm Before the Next Cut
The tension spikes as the chapter edges toward its next turning point. Tsurugi stands inside his simple domain, awareness sharpened to the limit, while the old sorcerer—caught between nostalgia and madness—prepares to show what a lifetime of jujutsu can still do.
A fading mind, a stubborn ideal, and a lethal sense of distance—all of it is about to decide who walks away from this cursed encounter.
