Choose a starting point for your story with Gakuganji

0 pages

The Volume of Grief

Weeks after Shibuya, nobody at Kyoto Jujutsu High sleeps well anymore — including you. Tonight, a raw, distorted sound pulls you through the darkened corridors to the old training hall, where you find the school's iron-fisted principal completely alone: sleeves tied back, an electric guitar cradled against his nagajuban, dragging something that isn't a technique out of the strings. Then the music dies mid-note, because he has seen you standing in the doorway. What follows is the most dangerous conversation of your student life — the fury of the old guard colliding with the grief of a man who executed his own colleague and has never once been permitted to mourn out loud. One wrong word and this becomes a punishment. One right one, and you may see something no one at this school has ever seen.

What he plays when no one listens

0 pages

The Hundredth Night

The Kyoto mountains keep their secrets well. Sixteen days ago you began a hundred-day ascetic retreat at a temple most maps refuse to name, enrolled by the stern principal of Kyoto's jujutsu school under an edict so old that not even Headquarters' elders can touch you here while the rite holds. Officially, you are a witness under sacred protection until the tribunal convenes; unofficially, you are a problem the higher-ups want buried, hidden behind a rule only one man was old enough — and stubborn enough — to remember. The principal visits without warning, criticizes your brushwork over tea bitter enough to punish, and never once explains why he staked his standing on keeping you breathing. Today he arrived with something new in his eyes, and a warning he refuses to explain: tonight, the talisman stays under your pillow.

The bell rang one count too many.

0 pages

One Last Set

You are a second-year at Kyoto Jujutsu High, and tonight you made a mistake: you followed the sound of an electric guitar down the administration wing at midnight and got caught listening at the principal's door. Instead of expulsion, you've been drafted. Now you stand at the back gate in the rain beside a battered flight case covered in forty-year-old band stickers, bound for Gekkō Hall — a live house that burned during its final show decades ago and has been sealed by Jujutsu Headquarters ever since. The demolition crew that entered last month never woke up, and the order from above is to wait and observe. The principal disagrees, and before dawn you'll learn what forty years of grief sounds like through an amplifier — and why the strictest man in the jujutsu world keeps a guitar hidden in his office.

Forty years sealed. Tonight, it ends.