The start of practical lessons meant that the three first-years had officially begun their corporate-drone lives as sorcerers.
In the Jujutsu High infirmary, Ieri Shoko was treating Asou Akiya's external wounds.
Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru almost never needed to visit her. With their strength, they only ever bullied cursed spirits; the spirits never got the chance to lay a finger on them.
The rare scratches they did pick up were almost always from fighting each other over who got to claim the kill.
"While you're healing me… I literally can't feel any change at all," Akiya muttered, used to analyzing everything. He stared at his own palm in a daze. Reverse Cursed Technique was simply too profound; the whole "negative times negative" concept of cursed energy felt like an undecipherable heavenly scripture.
"That's perfectly normal," Shoko answered around the lollipop in her mouth, walking to the cold stainless-steel sink to wash her hands.
"I really thought I might have a shot at mastering it," Akiya sighed. "Looks like I overestimated myself."
"Keep trying anyway. It never hurts," Shoko said, surprising him with the encouragement. "No one knows whether they have the aptitude or not. Just like how ordinary people can suddenly awaken as sorcerers, it's all pure randomness and chance. And the same goes for sorcerers mastering Reverse Cursed Technique. Gojo and Geto both gave up on learning it from me way faster than you have."
So it wasn't just Akiya who had entertained the idea of memorizing the sensation with his body.
Both Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru had tried—and failed spectacularly.
Shoko's comfort was delivered in the calm, rational tone of a surgeon wielding a scalpel: precise, no-nonsense, cutting straight to the core. Because in front of those two terrifyingly gifted boys, it was far too easy for Akiya to feel inferior.
It was uncontrollable, a pure, crushing gap in innate talent that left him frustrated over and over again.
"You're a genius too, Shoko," Akiya said softly, sincerely.
"Hard pass on the compliments," Shoko replied, drying her hands with an indifferent drawl. "You should get going. If you don't, Suguru will come looking for you, and then Satoru will come barging in making a racket. The friendship between you boys is way too crowded."
Akiya: "…"
He gave a helpless smile. "Aren't you even a little curious about Satoru's recent changes?"
Shoko didn't hesitate. "Obviously you did it."
Akiya raised both hands in immediate surrender, refusing to take the blame for whatever chaos Satoru caused. "I merely helped him liberate his true nature and return to himself." He couldn't help thinking back to the sentence that had sparked the change, and to the promise he had made: Everyone at Jujutsu High will like you just as much as I do.
Satoru, blissfully unaware he'd been thoroughly sweet-talked, had believed those words with pure, unshakable faith.
A sudden impulse stirred in Akiya—he wanted to make that promise real, to give Satoru's smile genuine meaning.
"Shoko… could I ask you for a favor?"
"Name it first."
"If, someday, Satoru deliberately smiles at you, could you… bear with it and be a little nicer to him in that moment?"
"...???"
Ieri Shoko decided that either Asou Akiya had lost his mind, or Gojo Satoru had.
"I'll make it up to you afterwards," Akiya pressed on, utterly serious. "I'll buy you drinks, light your cigarettes, even play your loyal little underling for a day." He spoke as though he could already see the future: Satoru finally mastering the art of smiling, no longer greeting the world with that icy, confrontational mask.
"We'll see when the time comes," Shoko muttered. She wasn't confident she could hold back a shudder.
"That's all I needed to hear." Akiya slid off the hard infirmary bed, slipped his shoes back on, and headed for the door. "This weekend (both days), I've got something to take care of. I probably won't be able to run errands for you."
"You're going home?" Shoko asked the boy who was supposedly an orphan.
"No. I'll be staying on campus." He left the infirmary and made straight for Yaga Masamichi's office.
Sunday, 1 May 2005, was technically a day off, but exorcisms did not respect calendars. One careless moment and a mission could drop at any hour. For the sake of his life and his dignity, Akiya needed to ensure that no one (absolutely no one) would disturb him that day. Advance preparation was essential; he could not leave a single loose thread.
…
Boys' dormitory.
When Geto Suguru heard Akiya say he was busy all weekend, he drew his own conclusions.
Akiya asked about Suguru's plans.
"If there's a mission, I'll take it," Suguru replied. "If not, I'll go out and scout places with urban legends."
He trusted Akiya's brain completely. "Any recommendations?"
Akiya had been waiting for this exact moment. "Do you remember the paranormal news from January 2004? Kisaragi Station."
Suguru jotted it down. "Anything else?"
"Urban legend: the Slit-Mouthed Woman. Suspected Special-Grade imagined cursed spirit."
It was one of the high-level spirits the sixteen-year-old Geto Suguru had once wielded and it was capable of deploying a mutual non-aggression Simple Domain.
Suguru's fingers flew across his phone, searching. "More?"
Akiya deadpanned. "Japan is crawling with yokai and ghost stories. Imagined cursed spirits pop up on schedule, and you can't kill them all. Whenever you have free time, visit areas with active Slit-Mouthed Woman sightings. Her appearance rate is higher there."
Suguru pressed his lips together, then asked abruptly, "You're really okay telling me all this?"
Akiya answered without hesitation. "Of course."
Suguru smiled and let the subject drop.
When Akiya stood to leave, his gaze flicked to the trash bin. High-school boys were creatures of massive caloric intake and endless snacks; Suguru used to share his stash all the time.
"Lost your appetite lately?" Akiya asked quietly. "Take care of yourself."
"…I will."
Geto Suguru's fingers curled for a fraction of a second, but he waved Akiya off with perfect nonchalance and closed the door behind him.
The instant the latch clicked, cold sweat broke out across Suguru's skin. He bolted to the trash bin, bent over it, and stared inside in horror.
It was empty.
Not a single snack wrapper.
His loss of appetite had been exposed just like that?!
All he had done was swallow a few disgustingly foul cursed spirit orbs; of course his stomach had gone on strike for a while.
Akiya, do you have to be this terrifying?!
Two doors down the hall, Gojo Satoru's situation was the exact opposite: his appetite had become monstrous.
May was approaching, the weather was turning warmer, and cursed spirits in Tokyo were multiplying by the day. The moment Satoru spotted Akiya he rattled off an entire dessert menu like a hyperactive child placing an order. Akiya pulled out a notebook, wrote everything down, and asked, deadpan, "You're not worried about gaining weight?"
Satoru patted his abs with absolute confidence. "My energy consumption is insane. I need to stockpile sweets!"
Secretly locked in a deathmatch with Suguru for the title of Special Grade sorcerer, he was destined to keep Limitless active far more often. Without sugar he would be in serious trouble. He had to make sure his fridge stayed loaded with fuel.
Akiya narrowed his eyes slightly.
Was Gojo Satoru the type to plan ahead? Obviously not.
Fresh off witnessing Suguru's burning determination, Akiya saw through Satoru's sudden motivation in a single glance.
"You didn't sleep that night," Akiya said quietly. "You snuck out and eavesdropped on my conversation with Suguru."
"…It wasn't eavesdropping! You two were secretly talking behind my back!" Satoru protested, immediately defensive. "You're my person. If those rotten tangerines at Headquarters bullied you, you should've told me, not gone crying to weird-bangs!"
"I wasn't crying about anything," Akiya cut in.
The more Satoru talked, the more righteous he felt. Emotion surged, pride flared, and he declared with his chest puffed out, "As long as I'm around, nobody gets to bully you!"
In that moment, Gojo Satoru was one hundred percent convinced he was the radiant protagonist of a school-life anime.
Saving his classmate from distress! Heroic BGM swelling in the background!
Asou Akiya opened his mouth, then closed it again, a strange blend of amusement and unmistakable fondness flickering across his features. The white-haired boy before him had grown so much brighter in spirit, stepping down from his lofty pedestal one cheerful stride at a time.
He laughed freely now, scolded with playful fire, and shouldered the duty of protecting those he considered his own—no longer the aloof Gojo Satoru the Three Great Families had raised to regard the world's troubles as none of his concern.
Yet the future that awaited this boy who now believed himself the shining protagonist of some grand anime story… it was far too heartbreakingly bleak.
Akiya could not bring himself to shatter the illusion, to interrupt this immersive joy.
Was he not the same, after all?
Watching Satoru felt like binge-watching a beloved drama in real time, and better yet, discovering he had become one of the vital supporting characters in this tale of youth.
Satoru, oblivious to Akiya's quiet reverie, barreled on with breathless excitement. "You two actually made a bet about me to become friends? That's way too much! I'm gonna make weird-bangs give up completely and admit I'm the strongest!"
Akiya snapped back to full alertness. Someone here was definitely plotting mischief.
Satoru's smile bloomed brilliant as summer flowers. He flung the door wide and bellowed, "Akiya, come on—we're gonna freeze him out together!"
In his own room, Geto Suguru squeezed his eyes shut and endured.
He couldn't hear it. He wouldn't hear it… He absolutely refused to fall for Satoru's bait. The guy was getting more childish by the day.
Satoru turned back, impatient. "Hurry up and give me your phone."
Akiya had no real desire to hand it over, but Satoru's smile was simply too dazzling to resist. For the sake of that radiant grin, he made no move to stop the boy from reaching out and snatching the device. Satoru punched in the passcode with familiar ease, fingers flying across the screen. In moments he had created a new Mixi interest group, dragged in the members, and committed fully to the grand plan of isolating Geto Suguru.
The group name: "Jujutsu High Foodie Duo."
Akiya's eyes went dead.
So after all that scheming about freezing someone out, the masterstroke you came up with… was just another private chat?
Four students in the class, three separate chat groups?
[Gojo Satoru: No hanging out with weird-bangs this weekend. Buy me desserts.]
[Asou Akiya: Busy!]
Even if a twenty-eight-year-old Gojo Satoru showed up and begged with puppy eyes, the answer would still be exactly the same.
Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. No matter how handsome the high-school boy, no matter how overflowing with youthful energy, nothing was going to stop Akiya from picking up his package.
Besides, this particular Gojo Satoru's attitude when asking for favors was atrocious.
"Follow the shop names and go taste-test them one by one."
Akiya ducked back into his room, pulled out a thick stack of Tokyo dessert-shop membership cards, shoved them into Satoru's hand, and herded him toward the hallway.
For once, without anyone noticing, he had successfully reverse-sugar-daddied Gojo Satoru.
"Eat your fill this weekend, play until you drop, then come home. Bye-bye."
The door shut with a decisive click.
Gojo Satoru stood frozen outside, staring at the closed door in genuine disbelief, wounded to the core by little tangerine's heartless cruelty.
Two doors down, Geto Suguru's mood instantly soared.
Nobody gets to monopolize Akiya's weekend!!
Victory!!