She Found Me Bloody In The Courtyard And Offered To Train Me. I Never Expected To End Up In Her Bed.

The sharp, dismissive click of the phone ending the call was a sound Maki knew too well. It echoed the finality of a door slamming shut, another conversation with the Zenin clan ending in the same cold static of their disapproval. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the phone, the plastic creaking under the pressure. Anger, hot and familiar, coiled in her stomach. She needed to run. She needed the burn in her lungs and the ache in her muscles to exorcise the bitter taste of her family’s name.

She pulled on her running shoes, not bothering to change out of her uniform pants and a plain black shirt. The night air was cool, a welcome shock against her heated skin as she slipped out of the dorms. The grounds of Jujutsu High were silent under the half-moon, shadows stretching long and deep across the manicured paths. She pushed her pace, her feet pounding a steady, aggressive rhythm against the packed earth, letting the physical exertion dull the sharp edges of her fury.

Her usual route took her past the main training fields, but tonight she veered toward the more secluded courtyards near the woods, places rarely used by anyone but second and third-years for specialized training. It was here, in the oppressive quiet, that another sound cut through the night.

Clang… thwack. A pause. Then, a low, guttural curse.

Maki slowed to a stop, her breath catching. She moved silently toward the sound, her body low and hidden by the deep shadows of the surrounding cedar trees. Peeking around the edge of a weathered dojo, she saw her.

Nobara Kugisaki.

She was supposed to be in her room, recovering. But here she was, long after curfew, standing before a straw-padded training dummy. Her hammer was slick with sweat in her grip, and even from a distance, Maki could see the slight tremor running through her arm. In her other hand, she fumbled with a nail, its sharp point digging into her palm as she tried to position it against the dummy.

“Damn it,” Nobara muttered, her voice raw and thick with a frustration that was nothing like her usual sharp-tongued confidence. “Just… work.”

She drew the hammer back, her form sloppy and unbalanced. She was trying to channel her cursed energy into the nail, but the faint blue aura around it flickered and died before she could even strike. The hammer came down anyway, missing the nail entirely and slamming into her own knuckles against the wooden post.

Nobara cried out, a sharp intake of breath that was more pain than surprise. She dropped the hammer, which hit the dirt with a dull thud. She cradled her left hand to her chest, her shoulders shaking. Her knuckles were already bruised and bloodied from what looked like several previous miscalculations. Tears of pure, undiluted rage and self-loathing welled in her eyes, silver in the moonlight. She wasn't the brash, unbreakable girl from the country anymore. In the lonely courtyard, under the weight of her own failure, her facade had cracked right open.

Maki stepped out of the shadows, the gravel crunching deliberately under her running shoe. The sound was quiet, but in the dead air of the courtyard, it was as loud as a shout.

Nobara flinched, her head snapping up. Her eyes, wide and panicked, searched the darkness before landing on Maki. In an instant, she straightened up, her spine going rigid. She shoved her bleeding hand behind her back, a pathetic attempt to hide the evidence of her failure. A mask of defiance slammed down over her face, familiar and yet utterly unconvincing.

“Senpai,” she said, her voice a little too loud, a little too sharp. “Just getting in some extra practice. Can’t let you second-years have all the fun.” She tried for a smirk, but it was a brittle thing that didn’t reach her eyes.

Maki didn’t answer. She just walked forward, her steps even and measured, closing the distance between them. She stopped a few feet away, her gaze sweeping over the scene. She saw the discarded hammer, the scattered nails, the fresh dents in the training post where Nobara’s knuckles had impacted instead of the nail head. And she saw the hand Nobara was trying to hide, the dark blood dripping slowly onto the dirt behind her.

The sight stirred something cold and old in Maki’s gut—the ghost of a thousand punishing training sessions under the critical eyes of the Zenin clan, the sting of failure, the burn of shame. She saw herself in the younger girl’s desperate, angry posture.

“Your stance is wrong,” Maki said, her voice flat and devoid of any emotion. It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact. She ignored Nobara’s flimsy excuse completely. “You’re off-balance before you even swing. But that’s not the real problem.”

Nobara’s false bravado faltered. “What are you talking about? My stance is fine.”

Maki’s eyes, sharp and analytical behind her glasses, met Nobara’s. “Your cursed energy is a mess. It’s wild. You’re trying to force it into the nail, but you’re pouring all your frustration into it. Anger. Self-pity.” Each word was a precise, clinical incision. “Cursed energy needs focus. A cold, sharp point of intent. What you’re doing is like trying to hammer a nail with a flood of water. It’s useless.”

The defensiveness drained from Nobara’s face, replaced by a stunned, raw vulnerability. She had expected a lecture, maybe even pity. She had not expected this. She hadn’t expected to be seen so clearly, for her deepest, most humiliating failure of the night to be diagnosed with such sterile accuracy. Her mouth opened, then closed. There was no lie, no aggressive comeback that could refute the simple, cutting truth of Maki’s words. Her injured hand fell to her side, exposed and trembling in the moonlight.

Maki’s gaze dropped from Nobara’s face to the ground. Without another word, she bent down, her movements fluid and economical. She picked up the hammer, its weight settling comfortably in her palm as if it were an extension of her own arm. Then, she selected one of the clean nails from the scattered pile. She didn’t look at Nobara, didn’t acknowledge the shame radiating from the younger girl.

She walked to the training dummy, her back straight, her presence filling the small courtyard. Nobara watched, frozen, as Maki planted her feet. Her stance was perfect—low, solid, rooted to the earth. She was a fortress of controlled power. Maki pressed the point of the nail against the dense straw padding of the dummy. She didn’t channel any cursed energy; she had none to give. Instead, a different kind of intensity settled over her, a focus so absolute it was almost a physical presence in the air. All of her formidable strength, all of her intent, narrowed to that single, tiny point of steel.

The motion was a blur. The hammer swung in a short, brutal arc. There was no wasted energy, no emotional leakage, only pure, mechanical precision. The sound was a single, sharp thwack that echoed cleanly in the night. The nail was gone, buried up to its head in the thick wooden post at the core of the dummy. It was perfectly straight, a testament to a flawless transfer of power.

Maki lowered the hammer, her expression unchanged. She turned, her dark eyes pinning Nobara in place. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of Nobara’s ragged breathing.

“This is what you lack,” Maki stated, her voice as sharp and unyielding as the nail she had just driven. “Control. You let your feelings make you weak. On a mission, that weakness will get you killed. Or worse, it will get someone else killed.”

She tossed the hammer. It landed softly in the dirt at Nobara’s feet.

“You’re a liability right now,” Maki continued, the words hitting Nobara harder than any physical blow. “A first-year who can’t even perform a basic reinforcement is a burden to the school and a danger to her teammates. I can’t have a weak link in our ranks.”

Nobara flinched, the accusation landing square in the center of her rawest insecurities. Her throat felt tight, and she wanted to scream, to lash out with some of her old, familiar fire, but the words wouldn't come. She just stood there, exposed and bleeding, under the weight of Maki’s cold assessment.

“So this is what we’re going to do,” Maki said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Every night. You and me. Here. We will train until your hands stop shaking and your energy does what you tell it to. We’ll do it until you are no longer a liability.” She paused, her eyes glinting behind her glasses. “It’s a senpai’s duty to ensure her kouhai isn’t useless. Be here tomorrow at midnight. Don’t be late.”