Chapter 1: Hiro Miller
The vast expanse of the New York City skyline stretched out before Hiro Miller, an endless sea of glittering lights and towering skyscrapers under an ink-black sky. Standing atop one of the tallest buildings, he felt like a king surveying his domain. The night air whipped through his blonde hair and stung his blue eyes, but he relished the sensation. Up here, he was free.
Hiro closed his eyes, reaching out with his jujutsu senses. There. The telltale aura of a curse, slithering through the streets below. A wicked grin stretched across his face. Time to hunt.
Electricity crackled around his hands as he summoned his power. Then, with a whoop of exhilaration, Hiro leaped off the edge of the building, lightning propelling him in a wide arc to the next rooftop. His heart raced as he soared through the air, the city a blur beneath him. This never got old.
He bounded from building to building, his movements nimble and precise. Hiro had always been athletic, but jujutsu enhanced his agility to superhuman levels. He could run faster, jump higher, and land with catlike grace no matter the height. It was a rush, the kind of power he knew he was born to wield.
As he drew closer to his target, Hiro amped up the voltage, blue-white bolts zigzagging around his body. He was a human lightning storm, crackling with barely contained energy. The curse wouldn't know what hit it.
There. He spotted the inky black shape slinking through an alley. Hiro dove off the roof, electricity slowing his fall as he landed in a crouch right in the curse's path. The monster reared back, its form a writhing mass of smoky tentacles and gaping mouths. An awful shriek pierced the night.
"Sorry, ugly," Hiro taunted, "but you're not getting away from me."
He thrust out his hands and twin bolts of lightning shot from his palms, spearing the curse through its shadowy heart. It convulsed, mouths opening in silent screams, before bursting apart in a shower of sparks and smoke.
Hiro straightened up, brushing ash from his jacket. Too easy. You'd think the curses would have learned by now not to mess with Hiro Miller.
With a self-satisfied smirk, he launched himself back up to the rooftops, leaving a trail of crackling electricity in his wake. He dashed across the skyline, flipping and bounding between buildings with effortless grace, high on the thrill of the hunt. This was what he lived for - the freedom, the power, the rush. Up here, nothing could touch him. He was invincible.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Hiro skidded to a stop atop a high-rise, pulling it out to check the caller ID. He groaned. His dad. This ought to be good.
He answered the call with a sigh. "Hey, Pops. What's up?"
"Don't 'what's up' me, young man!" his father snapped. "I just got word of another 'lightning storm' over the city. What have I told you about being discreet?"
Hiro rolled his eyes. "Relax, Dad. I was just taking care of a little curse problem. No big deal."
"No big deal? Hiro, you can't keep causing scenes like this! You're going to expose the jujutsu world!"
"Oh, please. I've got it handled. Trust me, no one suspects a thing."
His father sighed heavily. "You're too reckless, Hiro. Too arrogant. You're not invincible, no matter how much you think you are."
"I know, I know. You're always saying that. But seriously, I'm fine. The curse is gone, the city is safe, everything's chill."
"For now. But mark my words, son, if you don't start showing some restraint and discipline, there will be consequences."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Can I go now? I've got stuff to do."
"This conversation isn't over, Hiro. We'll talk about this more later."
"Can't wait," Hiro said sarcastically. "Bye, Dad."
He hung up before his father could respond and shoved the phone back in his pocket. Consequences, right. What was his dad going to do, ground him? He was way too old for that.
Shaking his head, Hiro looked back out over the city, a smirk playing on his lips. His dad worried too much. He had these powers for a reason - to take out curses and look damn good doing it. As far as Hiro was concerned, a little collateral damage was a small price to pay. Those stuffy old men in the jujutsu council could lecture him about responsibility all they wanted. Out here, he made his own rules.
Lightning flared around him, casting his face in sharp relief. Then, with a burst of electricity, Hiro shot off the roof and back out into his city, ready for the next hunt.
Hiro was about to leap to the next rooftop when a commotion below caught his eye. A robbery was in progress, two masked men holding up a convenience store at gunpoint. For a moment, he hesitated. He knew he wasn't supposed to get involved in human affairs. Jujutsu was meant to be discreet, hidden from the ordinary world.
But as he watched, the robbers grabbed their loot and fled into a nearby alley. A grin spread across Hiro's face. Well, if they were off the main street, no one would see him teaching these punks a lesson. And he wouldn't even need to use his powers. This would be a piece of cake.
With a burst of speed, Hiro launched himself off the roof, somersaulting through the air before landing in a crouch directly in the robbers' path. They skidded to a halt, eyes wide behind their masks.
"Well, well, well," Hiro drawled, rising to his feet. "Looks like it's your unlucky day, boys. The name's Hiro Miller, and I'll be your ass-kicker this evening."
"Get out of the way, kid," one of the robbers snarled, leveling his gun at Hiro. "Or you'll be sorry."
Hiro laughed. "Oh, I don't think so."
Faster than the eye could follow, he lunged forward, knocking the gun from the robber's hand and delivering a punch to his jaw that sent him reeling. The other robber swung at him with a knife, but Hiro dodged easily, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting until he dropped the blade with a yelp.
"You picked the wrong guy to mess with," Hiro taunted, slamming his knee into the robber's gut. The man doubled over, wheezing.
His partner staggered to his feet, shaking his head groggily. Hiro grinned, beckoning him forward. "Come on, let's dance."
The robber charged him with a roar. Hiro met him head-on, ducking under a wild haymaker and driving his fist into the man's stomach once, twice, three times in rapid succession. The robber gasped and crumpled.
Hiro stood over the two groaning men, dusting off his hands. "And that, gentlemen, is why you don't commit crimes in my city."
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second. Time to make his exit. With a running leap, Hiro scaled the alley wall and hauled himself back onto the rooftops. By the time the police arrived on the scene, he was long gone, just a blur of motion disappearing over the skyline.
A few minutes later, Hiro stood atop the tallest building in the city, gazing out at the glittering expanse of New York. The wind whipped through his hair as he took a deep breath, savoring the rush of the fight.
This was his city. His domain. Up here, he was untouchable. Invincible.
Let the jujutsu council preach restraint and secrecy all they wanted. Hiro knew he was meant for more than hiding in the shadows. He had the power to make a real difference, to keep his city safe from any threat - human or curse.
His phone buzzed again. Hiro glanced at the screen and groaned. His dad, probably ready with another lecture. Well, it could wait.
Right now, Hiro had more important things to do. The night was still young, and the city was full of scum that needed to be taught a lesson. The great Hiro Miller was on the prowl.
With a crackle of electricity, he leaped off the roof and back out into the night, a wide grin on his face. Man, he loved this job.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the luxurious penthouse apartment. Hiro shuffled into the living room, yawning and stretching, his blonde hair tousled from sleep.
"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence," his father, Takahiro, said sarcastically from where he sat at the dining table, a newspaper spread out before him.
Hiro just grunted in response, making a beeline for the kitchen and the promise of coffee. He was too sleepy to pick up on his dad's tone.
"Hiro, sit down. We need to talk."
Something in his father's voice made Hiro pause. He turned, frowning, to see Takahiro glaring at him over the top of the newspaper.
With a sigh, Hiro plopped down in the chair across from his dad. "What's up, Pops? If this is about last night, I already told you, I handled it."
"Handled it?" Takahiro slapped the newspaper down on the table. "Hiro, you're on the front page!"
Hiro leaned forward, squinting at the headline. "'Mysterious Vigilante Beats Up Robbers, Disappears Into the Night!."
"Huh. They got my good side."
"This isn't a joke!" Takahiro snapped, his hand coming down on the table with a bang that made Hiro jump. "There were cameras, Hiro! They caught you on video!"
Hiro shrugged. "So? I didn't use my jujutsu. No one knows about my powers."
"That's not the point! How many times do I have to tell you, we need to be discreet! You can't just go around beating up criminals whenever you feel like it!"
"Why not? I'm using my powers for good, aren't I? Helping people, keeping the city safe. Isn't that what being a sorcerer is all about?"
Takahiro sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Being a sorcerer is about upholding the balance, Hiro. It's about fighting curses, not playing superhero. You still have so much to learn about the jujutsu world."
Hiro scoffed. "What's there to learn? I'm already one of the strongest sorcerers out there. I don't need any more training."
"You really believe that, don't you? You have no idea how far out of your league you are. There are sorcerers out there who could wipe the floor with you without breaking a sweat."
"Oh yeah? Name one."
"Satoru Gojo."
Hiro rolled his eyes. "Okay, besides him. Gojo's like a freak of nature, he doesn't count."
"The point is, you're not nearly as invincible as you think you are, Hiro. Your arrogance is going to get you into trouble one day."
"I can handle trouble."
"No, you can't. And I'm not going to just sit by and watch you get yourself killed." Takahiro leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "That's why I've decided it's time for you to learn some real discipline and respect for the craft."
Hiro narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I'm sending you to Japan. To Kyoto, to study at the school for sorcerers there. You're going to be staying with your cousin Momo."
"What?" Hiro leaped to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. "No way! You can't just ship me off to Japan!"
"I can and I am. You need proper training, Hiro. You need to learn control and restraint."
"I don't need anything! I'm doing just fine on my own!"
Takahiro shook his head. "This reckless lone wolf act of yours is going to get people hurt. Or worse. I won't allow it."
Hiro threw his hands up in exasperation. "So, what, this is my punishment? For not following your precious rules? You're going to exile me to Japan?"
"It's not a punishment, Hiro. It's an opportunity. A chance for you to grow as a sorcerer and as a person."
"Yeah, right. More like a chance for you to get rid of me." Hiro paced the room, agitation crackling off him like static. "This is so unfair! You can't do this to me!"
"I'm your father, Hiro. It's my job to do what's best for you, even if you can't see it."
"What's best for me? How is tearing me away from my home, my friends, my life, what's best for me?"
"You mean your life of showboating and property damage? Of putting yourself and others at risk for the sake of your own ego?" Takahiro sighed. "Hiro, you have so much potential. But you're squandering it on these childish antics. It's time for you to grow up and take your responsibilities seriously."
"I do take them seriously! I take out more curses in a week than most sorcerers do in a month!"
"And you cause ten times as much collateral damage in the process! This isn't sustainable, Hiro. Sooner or later, something's going to give. And I refuse to let it be you."
Hiro deflated slightly, some of the fight going out of him. He sank back into his chair, suddenly looking very young and very lost. "Japan, though? That's so far away. I don't even speak the language."
"You'll learn. And Momo will be there to help you adjust. It'll be good for you, Hiro. A fresh start, a chance to focus on your training without all the distractions of the city."
"The city is my home, Dad. New York, being a sorcerer here...it's all I know."
Takahiro's expression softened. He reached across the table to lay a hand on Hiro's arm. "I know it's scary, son. Change always is. But trust me, this is for the best. You have so much growing to do, so much to learn. Japan will be good for you. The jujutsu there is the strongest in the world. You'll be learning from the best."
Hiro was quiet for a long moment, staring down at his hands. When he spoke, his voice was small and uncertain. "What if I'm not good enough? What if I can't hack it over there?"
"You can and you will. You're my son, Hiro. You're strong, you're smart, you're talented. You can do anything you set your mind to. I have faith in you."
Hiro looked up, meeting his father's gaze. In Takahiro's eyes, he saw fierce pride, unwavering love, and steely determination.
"Okay," he said at last, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'll go to Japan. I'll train at the fancy school and stay with Momo. But I'm not happy about it."
Takahiro chuckled. "I know you're not. But you'll thank me one day, Hiro. I promise you that."
Hiro just grunted, already dreading the idea of leaving his city, his domain, behind. Japan had better watch out. Hiro Miller was coming, whether they were ready for him or not.
After the heated discussion with his father, Hiro retreated to his room, still fuming. He flopped onto his bed and pulled out his phone, opening up the chat with his cousin Momo. If he was really going to be shipped off to Japan, he might as well get the lowdown on what he was in for.
"Hey, cuz," he typed. "So apparently I'm being exiled to your neck of the woods. What's this jujutsu school like anyway?"
Momo's response came a few minutes later. "It's pretty great, actually! The campus is huge, with dormitories for the students. And there's always something going on - classes, training, even battles sometimes."
"Battles?" Hiro perked up at that. "So there's action?"
"Some, yeah. But it's not all fighting. There's a lot of theory and technique to learn too. It really depends on the teacher."
"Yeah? Who's the main prof over there in Kyoto?"
"Utahime Iori. She's strict but really knows her stuff."
Hiro frowned. He'd never heard of this Utahime chick. "What about Tokyo? Who's the big shot teacher there?"
"Oh, that would be Satoru Gojo. He's kind of a legend. Super powerful, but also pretty laid back from what I hear. More into practical learning than just lectures."
A slow grin spread across Hiro's face. Satoru Gojo. Now there was a name he recognized. The strongest sorcerer in the world, they said. If Hiro was going to level up his jujutsu game, there was no one better to learn from.
He hopped off the bed and headed back out to the living room, where his dad was watching an NBA game on the massive flatscreen TV.
"Hey, Pops," Hiro said, plopping down on the couch. "I've been thinking about this whole Japan thing. And I've decided I'll go."
Takahiro looked over at him, surprise written on his face. "Really? Just like that?"
"Just like that. But I have a condition."
His father raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"
"I want to go to Tokyo, not Kyoto. I want to study under Satoru Gojo."
"Gojo?" Takahiro frowned. "I didn't even know he was teaching."
"Momo just told me. Apparently he's kind of a big deal over there."
Takahiro looked conflicted. "I don't know, Hiro. I was counting on Momo to keep an eye on you."
"Come on, Dad. This is Satoru freaking Gojo we're talking about. You really want me to pass up a chance to learn from the strongest sorcerer alive?"
His father was quiet for a long moment, considering. At last, he sighed. "You're right. An opportunity to study under Gojo is too good to pass up. I'll make some calls, get everything arranged."
"Yes!" Hiro pumped his fist in victory. "Tokyo, here I come!"
"Don't get too excited. You're going there to learn, not goof off."
Hiro waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But come on, I'll have my own dorm room. No supervision. You know what that means?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Ladies, ladies, everywhere."
Takahiro opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver a lecture on responsibility and focus, but Hiro was already on his feet and heading for the window.
"Well, I'm off to pack! Japan awaits! Later, Pops!"
And with that, he leaped out the window, his laughter echoing off the skyscrapers as he bounded away over the rooftops.
Takahiro watched him go, shaking his head. That boy was going to be the death of him. But he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips.
Hiro was a handful, there was no denying that. Reckless, arrogant, always leaping before he looked. But he was also brave, determined, fiercely loyal to those he cared about. With the right guidance, the right training, he could become one of the greatest sorcerers the world had ever seen.
"Watch out, Japan," Takahiro murmured. "Hurricane Hiro is on his way."
Hiro landed with a graceful leap in the bustling heart of Tokyo, Japan. The city stretched out before him, a glittering maze of towering skyscrapers and neon lights. So different from New York, yet thrumming with the same vibrant energy.
He straightened up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and grabbing the handle of his suitcase. With a confident stride, he set off through the crowded streets, his head held high, a cocky grin playing on his lips.
Heads turned as he passed, whispers and giggles following in his wake. Hiro was used to the attention. With his tall, athletic build, his chiseled features, his artfully tousled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, he stood out in any crowd. But here, among the sea of dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, he was practically exotic.
He winked at a group of schoolgirls who were openly staring, sending them into a fit of blushing and tittering behind their hands. Oh yeah. Japan was going to be fun.
"Well, well. If it isn't the infamous Hiro Miller."
Hiro turned at the sound of the voice, his grin widening as he spotted a tall, silver-haired man in dark sunglasses leaning against a lamppost.
"Satoru Gojo, I presume," Hiro said, sauntering over. "Yoroshiku."
Gojo cocked an eyebrow above his shades. "Nihongo ga dekimasu ka?" he asked, sounding surprised.
"Hai, dekimasu," Hiro replied smoothly. "I learned on the flight over. Figured I should make an effort, you know?"
Gojo laughed, pushing off the lamppost. "A week's notice and you're already fluent? Not bad, kid. Took me three days to learn Chinese, but still, impressive."
Hiro rolled his eyes. "Wow, humble brag much?"
"Hey, it takes one to know one, right? From what I hear, humble isn't exactly your strong suit either."
"What can I say? When you're as good as I am, false modesty is just a waste of time."
Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, you and I are going to get along just fine. Come on, the car's this way."
He led Hiro to a sleek black sedan parked at the curb. A bespectacled man in a suit stood beside it, looking harried.
"Miller-san, welcome to Japan," the man said, bowing slightly. "I am Kiyotaka Ijichi, assistant to the Tokyo school."
Hiro looked him up and down, smirking. "What, like Gojo's nerdy servant or something?"
Ijichi sputtered, his face reddening. Gojo just laughed.
"Something like that," he said, clapping Ijichi on the shoulder. "Poor Ijichi here got stuck with welcoming duty today. Usually he's trailing after Shoko Ieiri, our school doctor."
"I don't 'trail after' anyone," Ijichi muttered, adjusting his glasses. "And I'll have you know, Ieiri-sensei is a highly respected - "
"Yeah, yeah, we know," Gojo cut him off, waving a hand. "You'd rather be with her, message received. But today you're stuck with us, so let's hit the road, shall we?"
Grumbling under his breath, Ijichi opened the car door for them. Hiro tossed his luggage in the trunk and slid into the backseat beside Gojo.
As the car pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic, Hiro turned to Gojo with a grin.
"So, Sensei, what's on the agenda for today? Please tell me there's going to be some action. I've been cooped up on a plane for hours, I'm itching for a fight."
Gojo laughed. "Slow your roll, kid. It's the first day of the new school year. We've got the entrance ceremony to get through first, not to mention orientation for you first-years."
Hiro groaned, slumping back in his seat. "Boring. I didn't come all the way to Japan to sit through lectures."
"Tough luck. Even I have to play by the rules sometimes. But don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for 'action' later. In fact, you're in luck - we've got a bumper crop of first-years this semester. Four in total, including you."
"Yeah?" Hiro perked up at that. "They any good?"
Gojo shrugged. "Eh, it's always hard to tell at first. But a couple of them show some real potential. One girl in particular - she's got a cursed technique I've never seen before. Should be interesting to see how she develops."
A slow grin spread across Hiro's face. "A girl, huh? Is she cute?"
"Hiro," Gojo said, a note of warning in his voice. "You're here to learn, not chase tail. Keep your mind on your studies."
"Who says I can't do both? I'm a multitasker."
Gojo sighed, shaking his head. But there was a hint of a smile playing around his lips. "You really are a piece of work, aren't you, Miller? This is going to be an interesting year."
Hiro just grinned, settling back in his seat and watching the Tokyo skyline whiz by outside the window. Gojo was right. Between the jujutsu training, the battles with curses, and now a bunch of new classmates to get to know - one intriguing girl in particular - this year was shaping up to be very interesting indeed.
Gojo led Hiro through the winding hallways of the Tokyo school, finally stopping outside a door on the third floor.
"Here we are," he said, pushing the door open. "Home sweet home."
Hiro stepped into the room, looking around. It was simple but spacious, with a bed, a desk, a closet, and a large window overlooking the school grounds. On the bed lay a neatly folded uniform - black pants, a white shirt, and a black school jacket.
"Get changed and unpacked," Gojo said, leaning against the doorframe. "In 20 minutes, we're meeting in Classroom 7. All the first-years will be introducing themselves for the first time." He grinned, his excitement palpable. "Don't be late!"
With that, he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.
Hiro wasted no time in changing into his new uniform. He had to admit, it looked good on him. The black jacket hugged his broad shoulders, the white shirt contrasting sharply with his tanned skin. He ran a hand through his hair, artfully mussing it, then checked his reflection in the window. Perfect.
With still a few minutes to spare, Hiro decided to take a little walk, get a feel for the place. He stepped out into the hallway, strolling along and admiring the traditional Japanese architecture blended with modern amenities.
He was just rounding a corner when something - or rather, someone - caught his eye. A girl, with serious eyes behind round glasses, her green hair pulled back in a ponytail. She walked with purpose, her steps measured and confident.
Hiro grinned. Well, hello there. Time to turn on the charm.
He approached her, hand outstretched, his most winning smile in place. "Hey there. Hiro Miller, new first-year. Nice to meet you."
The girl stopped, her gaze flicking over him, assessing. Clean nails, polished shoes, carefully styled hair, groomed eyebrows. He wore a subtle but fresh and pleasant cologne, not overpowering but inviting. For most girls, it would have made for quite the positive first impression.
But Maki Zenin was not most girls.
"Maki Zenin," she said flatly, not taking his offered hand. "Let me tell you something, since it seems we'll be classmates. Don't get in my way."
Hiro blinked, taken aback. But he recovered quickly, his grin widening. He reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, come on now, gorgeous. Why don't we - "
But before he could finish his sentence, the world was spinning. In a blur of motion, Maki had grabbed his hand, twisted, and sent him flying over her shoulder to land hard on his back on the floor.
Hiro lay there, blinking up at the ceiling, the wind knocked out of him. What the hell just happened?
By the time he sat up, Maki was already disappearing around the corner, ponytail swishing behind her.
Hiro let out a low whistle as he climbed to his feet, dusting himself off. Damn. That girl was something else.
A slow grin spread across his face. A challenge. He liked challenges. And he'd never met a girl he couldn't charm, given enough time and persistence.
"No such thing as an impossible conquest for Hiro Miller," he murmured to himself, setting off down the hall with a new spring in his step. "Game on, Maki Zenin. Game on."
Hiro strolled into Classroom 7, the last to arrive. Three other students were already there, each keeping to themselves, not a word exchanged between them.
There was a boy with unruly white hair, a surly expression on his face. In the corner sat...was that a panda? An actual, living, breathing panda? And of course, there was Maki, pointedly ignoring everyone, her nose buried in a book.
Hiro blinked, his gaze stuck on the panda. "What the hell?" he blurted out. "Are you a real panda?"
The panda looked up, cocking its head. "Do I not look like one?" it said in a surprisingly deep voice.
Hiro laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. This school was something else. He turned his attention to the white-haired boy, sauntering over.
"Hey there. What's your name?"
The boy glanced at him, expressionless. "Tuna Mayo," he said.
Hiro raised an eyebrow. "Uh...what?"
"He must be from the Inumaki clan," the panda piped up. "I think his name is Toge. Toge Inumaki."
"Salmon," Inumaki said, as if in affirmation.
"He can only speak in rice ball ingredients," the panda explained. "It's part of his cursed technique."
"Seriously?" Hiro stared at Inumaki, who shrugged. "Huh. Weird. Well, whatever. Not my problem."
Ignoring Inumaki's indifferent "Tuna," Hiro made a beeline for Maki.
The panda leaned over to Inumaki, murmuring, "That guy's really going after Zenin? He's got balls."
"Salmon," Inumaki agreed.
Hiro slid into the seat next to Maki, flashing her his most charming grin. "We meet again."
Maki sighed, not looking up from her book. Undeterred, Hiro leaned closer.
"Hey, are you ignoring me?"
"You're more annoying than a fly," Maki said flatly.
"And you're more beautiful than a flower."
That got her attention. Maki snapped her book shut, fixing Hiro with a withering glare. "So you're just one of those guys who flirts out of boredom? Because seriously, you're a nuisance."
Hiro shrugged, unrepentant. "Yep, that's me."
Maki rolled her eyes. "Let me make this clear. I didn't come here to flirt or make friends."
But Hiro wasn't listening. He had pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying over the screen. Maki's eyebrow twitched.
"Are you even listening to me?" she snapped.
Hiro glanced up, a sly grin on his face. "So you do want my attention after all?"
Maki flushed, sputtering. She opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by the classroom door slamming open.
"AHHHH, WELCOME, EVERYONE!"
Satoru Gojo stood in the doorway, arms spread wide, his voice booming. All eyes turned to him as he strode into the room, his presence commanding attention.
"Welcome, welcome, to the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College! I'm your beloved teacher, Satoru Gojo, but you can call me Gojo-sensei. Or just Gojo. Or Satoru. I'm not picky."
He spun on his heel, facing the class with a blinding grin. "Now, before we get started, let's have a little icebreaker, shall we? I want each of you to stand up, introduce yourself, and share one interesting fact. Who wants to go first?"
Hiro stepped forward, a confident grin on his face. "Hiro Miller, first-grade sorcerer. My cursed technique is lightning." He paused for effect, then added, "My hobbies are jumping across buildings and cooking."
A snort of laughter escaped Maki. She quickly covered her mouth, but not before Hiro caught her eye, his grin widening.
Oh, so she thought his hobbies were funny, did she? Time for a little payback.
He clasped a hand to his chest, his expression turning dramatically lovelorn. "And I'm also deeply, madly, passionately in love with someone."
Gojo, ever the showman, gasped theatrically. "In love? With whom, pray tell?"
Hiro pointed a finger directly at Maki. "With her. Maki Zenin, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the sun to my moon."
The room went dead silent. Maki's face turned a shade of red previously unknown to man. She shot to her feet, slamming her hands on her desk.
"Stop screwing with me!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls.
For a beat, no one moved. Then Panda burst out laughing, clutching his furry stomach.
"That Miller is really something else," he chortled, wiping a tear from his eye.
Hiro grinned, winking at Panda. "Call me Hiro, my Asian friend."
Panda nodded, still chuckling. "I think we're going to be good friends, Hiro."
Maki, meanwhile, was fuming, her fists clenched at her sides. Gojo looked between her and Hiro, a sly smile playing on his lips.
"Well, well, well," he said. "Looks like we've got a regular love story blossoming in our midst. How exciting!"
"It's not a love story!" Maki snapped. "He's just being a jerk!"
Hiro placed a hand over his heart, his expression mock-wounded. "Maki, my love, you wound me. How could you doubt the sincerity of my feelings?"
"Because you don't have any sincere feelings! You're just a shameless flirt who'll say anything to get a rise out of people!"
Hiro shrugged, unrepentant. "Guilty as charged."
Maki let out a wordless scream of frustration. Gojo, clearly enjoying the drama, clapped his hands.
"Alright, alright, settle down, lovebirds. We've got a lot to cover today, so let's get started, shall we?"
As Gojo launched into his lesson, Hiro slid into his seat, still grinning. He could feel Maki's glare boring into the side of his head, but he paid it no mind.
So she wanted to play hard to get? Fine by him. He always did love a challenge.
He glanced over at her, catching her eye. He winked, blowing her a kiss. Maki's scowl deepened, but Hiro could've sworn he saw a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks.
Oh yeah. This was going to be fun.
Throughout the lesson, Hiro only half-listened to Gojo's explanations about cursed energy and jujutsu techniques. His mind was already racing, plotting his next move in the game of cat and mouse he'd started with Maki.
She thought he was just a shameless flirt? Well, he'd show her. He'd woo her with his charm, his wit, his undeniable sex appeal. By the end of the year, Maki Zenin would be his.
After all, he was Hiro Miller. He always got what he wanted. And right now, what he wanted was a certain green-haired, glasses-wearing, jujutsu-wielding beauty.
Look out, Maki Zenin. You won't know what hit you.
With that thought, Hiro leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Oh yes. This year was definitely going to be interesting.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone