That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

A curse that had plagued Jujutsu society since the Heian era had just been completely dismantled by a university physics student.

Yet, despite performing an absolute, historical miracle, Suzuki didn’t show much surprise. Unlike the arrogant sorcerers who always tried to maintain a mystical, ambiguous aura around cursed energy, science was completely objective. In mathematics and physics, there was always a definitive answer. Everything was calculated, measured, and determined.

It infuriated Suzuki to watch people stumble through life at a loss, blindly accepting their suffering as ”fate” instead of actively trying to rewrite the equation.

He honestly wanted to beat some sense into the rest of the clan because they put absolutely zero effort into changing themselves.

Of course, Suzuki knew he couldn’t completely judge them. Everyone’s starting line was different. He had been reincarnated as the son of the Clan Head in one of the Big Three families. He possessed a powerful innate technique. But what the outsiders didn’t see was the terrifying, suffocating anxiety that haunted him. He knew the Zenin Clan was fated to go extinct.

More importantly, his clan was a toxic, rotting cesspool. It was the absolute worst environment a child could grow up in. The hierarchy was absolute. If you weren’t born strong or inherently talented, you were treated worse than livestock.

While commoners could at least run away and choose a normal civilian life, Suzuki didn’t have that luxury. Being born as Naobito’s son meant he was fated to be a sorcerer. If he hadn’t relentlessly clawed his way to the top, he would have been bullied, enslaved, or deliberately used as disposable bait for Special Grade curses by his own relatives.

Outsiders only saw his privilege. They conveniently ignored the bone-crushing hard work and ruthless pragmatism he had employed to secure his survival. If Suzuki—a boy fighting for his life against monsters—could manage to enter Kyoto University and earn a master’s degree in physics, the rest of the clan had no excuse for their stagnation.

But Suzuki also understood that in many cases, people were simply like Mai and Maki. They were completely clueless about the fact that they could change their fate.

Everyone around the twins had constantly reinforced the lie that their Twin Curse was unbreakable. The elders mocked them, and the ”kind” people merely offered them hollow comfort, telling them to just accept their lot in life.

Suzuki absolutely despised that kind of ”kindness.”

Comforting someone while they remained trapped at the bottom of a well was the cruelest thing a person could do. A harsh, brutal reality could temper a person’s heart and force them to unlock their potential. But hollow kindness bred complacency. It forced the twins to accept their horrific fate as political broodmares or sacrificial lambs.

Suzuki was never ”kind.” When people crossed him, he paid them back tenfold, creating a living hell for his enemies until they feared him too much to do anything but mutter ”nerd” behind his back.

But he was effective. And standing in his living room, he had finally solved the equation that was killing the two girls he cared about.

”Try moving,” Suzuki ordered.

”.....”

Maki and Mai stood frozen, absolutely speechless as they processed the profound, terrifying changes echoing through their souls.

Maki slowly clenched her fist. The air around her seemed to warp under the sheer, suffocating density of her new physical strength. She had breached the limits of humanity.

Beside her, Mai exhaled, and a dense, overwhelmingly powerful wave of cursed energy visibly rippled off her body. She no longer had to constantly funnel her reserves to keep her sister alive.

”Niisan...”

Maki looked at Suzuki, her stoic facade completely broken. Her eyes were shining with overwhelming, profound gratitude. She desperately wanted to thank him, but words completely failed the normally aggressive tomboy.

”I love you!”

Mai, however, had absolutely no problem expressing herself. She lunged forward, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a massive, loud kiss squarely on his cheek.

”Don’t kiss me like that. You got saliva on my face,” Suzuki sighed helplessly, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and casually wiping his cheek.

”YOU SHOULD BE ON YOUR KNEES PRAYING WITH GRATITUDE THAT A BEAUTIFUL GIRL LIKE ME EVEN KISSED YOU!” Mai roared, her face burning red with embarrassment and anger.

Watching the chaotic interaction, Maki hesitated for a moment before deciding to just stand back and smile quietly.

”Okay, okay. Settle down,” Suzuki said, waving his hand. ”First, let’s review the mechanics of your One-Way Valve Binding Vow to ensure the system is completely stable.”

”Yes, Niisan,” they answered in unison, instantly snapping to attention.

In the eyes of the Jujutsu elite, this feat was an impossible miracle. But Suzuki simply explained it as basic fluid dynamics.

Instead of Mai having to physically die to sever the connection, Suzuki had engineered a highly specific Binding Vow facilitated by the Cursed Tool he had just forged. The choker around Maki’s neck acted as a metaphysical siphon, creating a permanent pressure differential. It violently and continuously forced the residual cursed energy in Maki’s body to flow backward into Mai through their innate twin link.

The result for Maki was absolute zero. The ”leak” was permanently plugged. Her Heavenly Restriction was fully unbound, granting her the legendary, indestructible body of Toji Fushiguro without requiring her sister’s death.

The result for Mai was a massive, overflowing reservoir of power. Not only did she possess her own natural reserves, but she was now recycling the energy previously wasted on maintaining Maki’s cursed signature. Her cursed energy capacity had instantly tripled, completely solving her innate technique’s critical weakness: running out of gas.

The curse was broken. The tragedy that would have forced Maki to butcher her own bloodline in a grief-stricken rage had been entirely erased from the timeline.

Suzuki let out a quiet, profound sigh of relief. He had actually done it.

”So... now that the diagnostics are done,” Mai said, a sudden, incredibly dangerous smirk spreading across her face. ”How about we take this outside?”

”You are absolutely right,” Maki nodded, cracking her knuckles. A terrifying, predatory grin mirrored her twin’s. ”Suzuki-niisan. You don’t mind having a little spar with us, right?”

”.....”

Suzuki stared at them flatly. They had possessed their god-tier powers for exactly three minutes, and their first combined instinct was to jump him in a 2-on-1 street fight.

If it were the past, Suzuki would have immediately refused and sprinted in the opposite direction. The physical manifestation of Toji Fushiguro teaming up with a sniper who had limitless cursed energy was a literal nightmare scenario.

But the Manager had fully optimized his own technique. By combining classical kinematics with the 24-frames-per-second rule of Projection Sorcery, he had evolved his bloodline’s power into something entirely conceptual.

”Sure,” Suzuki said calmly, pushing up his glasses. ”I suppose I need some test subjects for my new technique anyway.”

”Huh? You evolved your technique?” Mai blinked, her smirk faltering slightly.

”Yup.”

”Did you name it, Niisan?” Maki asked, her muscles tensing in anticipation.

”I did,” Suzuki nodded.

He didn’t take a fighting stance. He simply raised his hand.

Suddenly, a heavy, distorted, bass-like hum echoed through the apartment, vibrating violently against the twins’ eardrums. It sounded as if the very fabric of reality was skipping like a scratched record.

Suzuki looked at them, his dark eyes perfectly calm as he uttered the name of his masterpiece.

”King Crimson.”

---

Grr!