Transmigrated As Satoru's Father

Chapter 5

"He can sense cursed energy on his first try, huh? That's impressive."

In a vast, endless void where countless portals floated freely, each showing glimpses of different worlds, an elderly man sat upon a grand, imposing throne. His features were sharp and distinct—deep-set eyes, high cheekbones, and an angular jawline, all giving him a regal, almost Germanic air. Once dark, his hair had long since turned silver with age, yet his presence exuded an undeniable strength, as though the years had only honed his power rather than diminished it.

He leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes fixated on one of the portals directly before him. The scene it displayed was of Seijuro—David—carrying Satoru, a smile radiating warmth and joy. The elder's gaze softened momentarily, but only for a fleeting second. His eyes then narrowed, scrutinizing every detail of David's movements, every subtle pulse of the energy emanating from him.

"It's just a matter of time before he realizes it," the man muttered under his breath, his voice deep and laced with amusement and something darker. "But he hasn't noticed yet that it's not cursed energy. Even that kid has sensed the difference before him."

He leaned back into his throne, one hand stroking his chin thoughtfully. The energy David unknowingly unleashed was powerful, but it wasn't part of the jujutsu world's framework. It wasn't cursed energy. Not even close. And yet, David remained oblivious to the true nature of the power flowing through him.

The old man's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "But the real question is... when will he realize it?"

The void around him seemed to pulse in response to his words, the portals shifting slightly as if the very fabric of the worlds themselves acknowledged his presence. He was not a mere observer. No, his interest in David—or Seijuro—was not passive. He had plans.

As David grew more comfortable in this new world, and as he unraveled the mysteries of his powers, the elder knew that their paths would inevitably cross.

"It's only a matter of time," he repeated, his voice echoing through the void.

The old man's gaze remained locked on the portal, his smile deepening as he watched the events unfold. He was patient. After all, he had waited for this moment for a long time.

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"Haa!" Seijuro stretched his arms upward, his muscles relaxing as he let out a satisfied sigh.

The room around him was spacious and elegant, a traditional master bedroom fitting for the head of the Gojo clan. The tatami mats beneath his feet were immaculately clean, their pale straw color adding to the room's serenity. The sliding shoji doors were made of dark wood and intricately detailed rice paper, allowing the morning light to filter through with a soft, ambient glow. In one corner of the room, an antique lacquered dresser stood beside a low, polished table adorned with a few delicate porcelain cups. The room exuded a sense of order and dignity befitting someone of his stature.

The walls were decorated with hanging calligraphy scrolls and serene ink paintings of mountains and forests, adding to the peaceful, almost meditative atmosphere. Seijuro could tell that this space had been meticulously maintained—everything in its place, nothing out of order. It was the kind of environment the previous Seijuro would have demanded.

—Shhh...

The quiet sound of a sliding door broke the stillness, and Seijuro turned around to see Satoru standing at the entrance. His son's hair was still messy from sleep, with strands of white sticking out in various directions. He wore a dark blue kimono that hung loosely on his small frame.