Jujutsu Kaisen: Reincarnated as Hajime Kashimo Chapter 7 7: You’re Coming With Me

Kyoto at twilight. Swallows drifted through the sky, their wings touched by the fading gold of the sun.

At the Hisashige Dojo, the gates were half-open. A few disciples in white robes were sweeping the courtyard, the steady rasp of their brooms mixing with the distant hum of the city.

"I'm telling you, where is the old man?"

A lanky man nad Haruta leaned against his broom, his posture loose and bored. He'd been training under Juro for over a decade, yet he still carried himself like a street thug.

"Haruta, just drop it."

The woman sweeping beside him looked up. She was striking, with a sharp, disciplined edge to her features, but her brow was furrowed with a worry she couldn't quite hide. This was Rinzo, Juro's only daughter.

Haruta glanced at her and smirked. "Co on, Rinzo. You're more worried than the rest of us put together."

The other disciples chuckled softly.

The creak of the front gate interrupted them. A man in white robes stood on the threshold, a staff propped over his shoulder. He was a silhouette against the dying light, his face obscured by the glare of the sunset.

"Uh... right."

Kashimo hesitated. He wasn't exactly sure how to lead with this. I killed your master felt a bit too blunt, even for him.

The disciples stopped working, their eyes following the stranger. Haruta narrowed his eyes, taking in the pale blue hair and the erald staff. The kid looked refined, almost pretty, but there was sothing wrong with the way he just stood there in silence.

"If you're here for a challenge, co back tomorrow," Rinzo said, her voice level. "My father hasn't returned to Kyoto yet."

She went back to her sweeping, dismissing him.

Kashimo scratched the back of his head. To hell with it.

"Your master," he began, and the sound of the brooms stopped instantly. "I killed him."

The air in the courtyard seed to freeze.

"Consider this dojo disbanded."

There was a beat of stunned silence.

"Hey!"

Haruta slamd his broom onto the stones and marched forward, his face twisting into a scowl. He was the sa height as Kashimo, and he leaned in until their noses were almost touching.

"What the hell did you just say, punk?"

Kashimo didn't blink.

"You failed to find the old man, so now you're making up stories? One more word and we'll turn you into a floor mat."

"I'm telling you the truth," Kashimo said. "Do I need to repeat myself, or are you just slow?"

"You little bastard!"

Haruta swung a heavy fist at Kashimo's face.

Kashimo caught it. It was a casual movent, as if he were swatting a fly. He tightened his grip and twisted.

A sharp crack echoed through the courtyard.

"Gah! My hand!"

Haruta collapsed to his knees, his face pale and slick with sudden sweat. The rest of the disciples stood frozen, their brooms forgotten.

"You say..."

Rinzo's voice was trembling, but she fought to keep it steady. "You say you killed my father. Is that right?"

Kashimo let go of Haruta's wrist. The man slumped to the ground, cradling his hand and glaring at Kashimo with pure hatred. Kashimo didn't look at him; his focus was entirely on the girl. He gave her a sharp, singular nod.

The courtyard fell into a heavy silence. Rinzo closed her eyes and took a long, shaky breath.

"Did he have any last words?"

"He said that if I had the interest, I should take over this place. If not, I was to tell you it's over."

"No way!"

Haruta lunged to his feet, stumbling toward a rack of wooden practice swords. His eyes were bloodshot, his face a mask of frantic denial. "The master would never say that! Not to a murderer like you!"

He grabbed a sword and gripped it with both hands, his body shaking like an animal's.

"How could he let soone like you... take over his legacy!"

He charged. The wooden blade whistled through the air as he brought it down in a desperate overhead strike.

He missed.

Haruta's pupils shrunk. The mont the sword began its descent, Kashimo was simply gone. It wasn't a fade, just movent too fast to track. Before Haruta could even register the movent, a blunt weight slamd into his back.

The erald staff hit with a dull thud. Haruta went down hard, his body hitting the stones like a sack of grain. He didn't move. He just lay there, twitching.

Kashimo withdrew the staff. He had used maybe ten percent of his strength. Haruta wasn't a sorcerer; he had no cursed energy to protect his organs and no way to heal. He was lucky to be alive.

Kashimo turned his attention back to the others.

The remaining disciples were backed against the walls, clutching their brooms like shields. They looked like a flock of frightened birds, their eyes darting between Kashimo and the unconscious man on the floor.

Kashimo looked past them, locking eyes with Rinzo.

She hadn't moved. She stood with her broom in hand, her silhouette quiet against the dusk.

"You," Kashimo said. "You're his daughter?"

She looked to be about fourteen or fifteen. She had her father's eyes, not in shape, but in that steady, unyielding focus.

Kashimo scanned her. She wasn't a sorcerer. That was the strange part. Despite the tragedy of the news, she wasn't leaking a drop of cursed energy. There was no spike of grief-fueled power, no flare of resentnt. Just a hollow, quiet stillness.

Rinzo t his gaze. She didn't flinch, and she didn't cry.

"Yes."

"Right. Your father asked to look after you. But honestly, it's your choice."

Kashimo paused, leaning on his staff.

"I don't mind a tag-along. But I should tell you now. If you co with , you'll probably die."

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