The morning air was thin, and the shrine steps beneath Ren Sato's legs had grown sore from sitting. His limbs ached. His fingers trembled. But he hadn't moved. Not really.
His mind was alive, racing.
He had cursed energy.
It was real.
Not theory. Not wishful thinking. Not manga panels.
Real.
And that meant everything changed.
Ren wiped his face with his sleeve, took a deep breath, and opened his notebook again. The pages were wrinkled from his sweat and frantic scribbles. He flipped to the fresh page.
"Objective: Understand cursed energy at the most fundamental level."
He underlined it twice.
Then, he began writing, mumbling to himself as if lecturing an invisible classroom.
"Cursed energy comes from negative emotions. Leaks constantly in non-sorcerers. Sorcerers use it by controlling that leak—converting it into usable force. Easy in theory. Impossible in practice."
He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and then tried again to feel it.
He remembered what Gojo once said—*To control cursed energy is like keeping your anger steady, constant, like spinning a coin on your fingertip without letting it fall.*
It didn't help much.
Still, Ren tried.
He focused on his breath. On the tension in his body. On every drop of frustration and fear crawling under his skin.
For a moment, he felt it—like a flicker in a pitch-dark hallway.
But it passed.
"Damn it."
He stood up, stretched, and took a slow walk around the back of the shrine. The gravel crunched underfoot. Crows called in the distance.
He needed a more grounded approach.
He made a list:
- Maintain cursed energy output for 5 seconds.
- Apply it to his hand.
- Try to amplify his grip.
- See if it affects objects.
He sat down again, palm up.
Focused.
Focused.
A dull pressure built behind his eyes. His hand tensed.
A faint warmth.
He thought it was working.
Then his wrist twitched violently, and the feeling vanished.
"Fuck!" He clutched his wrist. It stung. "Okay… too much pressure. It spikes and vanishes."
He wrote:
Cursed energy is volatile without rhythm. Emotions aren't enough—it needs flow. Timing. Balance.
He remembered something Sukuna said—"You control cursed energy the same way you control breath. It isn't about force. It's about rhythm." *
Rhythm.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Push. Pull.
Control.
He spent an hour trying to apply cursed energy to a rock.
He failed.
Then he tried to wrap cursed energy around his palm.
Failed again.
But he kept trying.
Because he didn't want to die.
And that reason? That was enough.
By noon, Ren was dizzy and exhausted, but he felt closer. Like his body was starting to listen.
He closed his eyes, letting his cursed energy simply exist, without forcing it.
That was when it stabilized.
Not for long—only two or three seconds—but it held. It wrapped around his palm like a vapor. Unseen, but felt.
He opened his eyes slowly, smiling faintly.
"Alright. That's progress."
Then his stomach growled violently.
Right. Food.
And… the apartment.
His blood chilled. He stood.
"Do curses… stay out during the day?" he muttered.
The manga had never clearly said. Weak ones preferred the dark, sure—but powerful ones didn't care. And that woman in white…
He clenched his fists.
He needed to know.
---
The walk back was silent. Too silent.
Ren clutched a sharp rock in his jacket pocket. Pathetic weapon, but it made him feel better.
His apartment building loomed ahead.
The windows were dark. The hallway is empty.
He took the stairs slowly.
Second floor. Third.
Outside his door, he hesitated.
The paper charm still hung, half-peeled.
He swallowed and reached out.
The doorknob turned.
Click.
No resistance.
He opened the door and stepped inside.
Silence.
The place was untouched. No sludge. No curse.
He let out a shaky breath.
Gone.
For now.
He moved quickly, checking every corner. Then he sat back at his desk and flipped his notebook open again.
His hand hovered over the page.
He wrote:
"Theory: Everyone focuses on technique and power. But the base—cursed energy control—is the core."
"Gojo didn't become Gojo because of Limitless alone. He mastered the basics."
"Sukuna? Same thing. Total control. Efficiency."
Ren gritted his teeth and underlined the next line:
"That's how I'll win. I'll make my foundation stronger than anyone's."
He would study every note he remembered. Every obscure mention. Every little thing is skipped over in fights.
Even if it took weeks.
Even if he couldn't fight.
Even if he stayed weak.
He would learn.
Not to be a hero.
Not to save anyone.
But to live.
And living was enough.