Only after stepping into a place like this did it become clear—Jujutsu Sorcerers weren't exactly living the good life. Sure, there were external threats: Curse Users, Cursed Spirits, even ordinary humans at times.
But the real danger came from within.
No Jujutsu Sorcerer was truly sane. At best, they were just slightly more rational than Curse Users—but even then, a Curse User was often just one bad thought away.
It was a group made up of potential lunatics—just not diagnosed yet. Risking death was practically a way of life. Once you could fully comprehend how they thought, it probably meant you were already halfway gone yourself.
Shoko Ieiri, though, was relatively normal. She'd seen enough death to keep a straight face through it all.
Some of the corpses she handled might've been seniors, juniors, or friends. Maybe they were chatting over lunch at Jujutsu High just the day before—today, she was zipping up their body bags in a freezing morgue, their faces just as cold as the room around them.
All she could do was stay calm, zip up the bag, slide them into the drawer, and quietly say, "Take care."
That was Shoko Ieiri's day-to-day.
She guided Sōjun Minamoto through the Medical Department. The place had the layout of a modern hospital—clean, organized, not all that different from a facility in the outside world—except it was split into human and Cursed Spirit sections. She gave a quick tour of operating rooms, specialized equipment, morgues, and sealing chambers for Cursed Spirits. As for treatment procedures, there wasn't much to explain—she'd already heard from Satoru and Suguru that he was more than capable.
Finally, she brought him to his designated workstation and ran through the essentials.
In short: routine medical cases were handled by others. The two of them, as the only Reverse Cursed Technique users, were responsible for severe injuries. They took turns—whoever was free, handled it. If both were busy, then tough luck for the patient. If things got really bad, the patient might just move on to their next life—assuming they had one.
That was the current state of Reverse Cursed Technique treatment.
With that, Shoko Ieiri left. She had a packed schedule and had only carved out enough time for this quick orientation.
...
A few days passed, and Sōjun Minamoto had more or less settled into the rhythm.
He focused on treating patients. Once he put on his mask, he was like a machine—calm and emotionless. Scalpel in his right hand, soul blade in his left. Double the healing speed. Every sorcerer who experienced it gave glowing reviews.
Even the dead Cursed Spirits probably felt satisfied—leaving the world without a hint of pain.
Shoko Ieiri came to observe his first procedure. Not because she was worried—she just figured it was worth her time to learn a thing or two from watching.
Luckily, there weren't many patients around, so she dropped in.
The result? One patient got triple coverage from the medical staff—two of them Reverse Cursed Technique users. That's a level of treatment most people could only dream of.
This particular case wasn't life-threatening, but it was unusual enough to be of research value. The sorcerer lay trembling on the operating table, trying to lift himself as he looked at Sōjun Minamoto, face twisted in worry.
"D-Doctor... am I done for?"
Sōjun Minamoto pressed him back down. A wave of crimson energy enveloped him, locking him in place. This wasn't assimilation—it was a refined control of Cursed Technique Lapse. The patient's body instinctively resisted the crimson, while Sōjun Minamoto carefully balanced the energy, causing temporary paralysis.
The terrified expression on the patient's face stayed frozen, only his eyes trembling slightly. With another pulse of Cursed Energy, even his eyes stopped moving. He lay there, wide-eyed, completely still, staring at Sōjun Minamoto.
Perfect balance.
Sōjun Minamoto began the procedure. Under the overhead light, his rimless glasses reflected a sharp glint. He adjusted his stance just right, letting the gleam hide his Star Eyes—so no one could tell anything was off.
Ordinary doctors were advised not to wear glasses during surgery. But sorcerers—especially those using Reverse Cursed Technique—had no such limitations.
In his vision, Sōjun Minamoto could see both the soul and the body of the patient. The wounds were identical in both—proof that the injury had been there for some time.
The synchronization between body and soul only came after a buffer period. By comparing their states, he could deduce not only how long ago the injury occurred, but a wealth of other useful information.
Of course, assuming there hadn't been outside interference.
He gripped both blades. To onlookers, it looked like he was only using the scalpel in his right hand. But his movements weren't hidden—anyone with some perception could notice the unusual motion in his left hand. Coupled with his known ability to see souls, it was easy to guess—he was operating on the soul as well.
He cut through the flesh, then delicately pierced the soul's outer layer. A surge of brilliant blue Cursed Energy burst forth, directly canceling out the curse clinging to the wound. The necrosis-like infection was eliminated in moments. From there, the rest was smooth sailing. The positive polarity of his Cursed Energy kicked in, triggering rapid healing. Soul and flesh both began to recover under the blue glow.
When Sōjun Minamoto finally withdrew the crimson energy, the patient let out a gasping wheeze—nearly jumping off the table.
That scared the hell out of me! I thought I was about to lose my innocence!
He threw a look at Sōjun Minamoto, eyes flickering with confusion and... something else. I mean... it wouldn't be the worst thing...
What's with that blush, huh? You look like a boiling teapot.
"Take him out," Sōjun Minamoto called, signaling the nursing staff to escort the weakened sorcerer out of the operating room.
Shoko Ieiri glanced at the speckled blood on the operating table—evidence of just how much the patient had bled.
Throughout the entire procedure, what stood out most were the vibrant colors and Sōjun Minamoto's seamless, almost artistic movements. He moved like an elegant painter, with the operating table as his canvas. From blending his palette to painting a vivid masterpiece, even the final blood-spattered canvas felt expressive. Freeform, unrestrained—that was Shoko Ieiri's impression of the operation.
Sōjun Minamoto removed his mask and waved to Riko Amanai.
"Come on. Clean the table."
That had been her job lately. As a newcomer, there was no escaping these hands-on chores during training. Riko Amanai pulled a face, clearly reluctant, and reluctantly shuffled over to begin wiping down the table.
"Good work," Sōjun Minamoto said, patting her on the shoulder. She flinched. He grinned.
"Still scared of a little blood after all this time? Looks like you need more field time."
Kukuku~
You call this healing? You're practically draining people dry! Riko Amanai slapped his hand away, annoyed.
The way a scene feels depends on your mood. To Shoko Ieiri, the blood painted a striking visual accent. To Riko Amanai, it looked like a horror show.
Sōjun Minamoto just smiled casually and headed back to the office.
Over the past few days, he'd seen all sorts of injuries—sorcerers blowing themselves up while testing new techniques, tearing muscles during Taijutsu training, or stabbing each other by accident during practice. Ironically, the least common cases were injuries caused by actual Cursed Spirits. Most of those victims were already stiff by the time they were brought in—not much point in treatment at that stage.
All Sōjun Minamoto could do was marvel at the bizarre ways people managed to die. It usually wasn't about raw strength—the Jujutsu High mission system was designed with a reasonable difficulty scale. As long as you stayed alert, your life was generally safe.
But you could never predict what kind of nonsense sorcerers might pull in the middle of an exorcism.
And the sheer variety of outcomes? Always impressive.
Sōjun Minamoto couldn't be happier with the Medical Department. Every operation sharpened his grasp of techniques, deepened his understanding of human anatomy, soul structure, cursed energy properties, storage mechanisms, and even the biology of rare Cursed Spirits...
Everything he wanted was here.
Thanks to his absurd efficiency, Shoko Ieiri had been unusually idle lately. Bringing him into the department really was a stroke of genius.
She lit a cigarette and leaned by the window, slowly exhaling a plume of smoke into the air.