On July 1st, a white-haired maniac tore through Yokohama's Chinatown like a typhoon on holiday.
Dark sunglasses perched on his nose, an oversized black T-shirt hung almost to mid-thigh, exposing a generous stretch of collarbone and shoulder. The faded grey-blue jeans were cinched at his slim waist by a simple leather belt. Head to toe, he looked like any high-school boy finally freed for summer break.
This was not Gojo Satoru's usual wardrobe.
The clothes had been donated that very morning by Geto Suguru, the one raised in an ordinary household.
The two boys stood roughly the same towering height (well over 180 cm), but years of rigorous physical training had given Geto broader shoulders and a thicker back. He also preferred loose fits, so everything he owned ran one size larger.
Gojo's everyday clothes were either bespoke or the newest drops from luxury boutiques. He had never in his life worn anything that could be called "civilian fashion." Now, unshackled from family oversight, he made no effort to hide how much he craved the ordinary high-school life he'd been denied.
Geto deserved most of the credit for that awakening. A cursed-spirit manipulator born outside the great clans had forced the Six Eyes of the Gojo family to realise that true strength cared nothing for bloodline. None of the pedigreed sorcerers back home could hold a candle to Geto Suguru.
Among their peers, the strongest two were Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.
Even without knowing the secret of Geto's unlimited technique, fate had still brought them together, the Limitless facing the Unlimited, two souls who were supposed to become the closest of friends, currently in the awkward, exhilarating first-year phase of learning how to fit.
Asou Akiya and Ieiri Shoko (mere supporting characters in this grand story of youth) had been pulled into the frame purely because they were Geto's classmates.
Compared to the female lead, the male supporting character Asou Akiya had the natural advantage of being able to run, fight, and laugh alongside the two monsters without any distance at all.
This was the stage of destiny Asou Akiya had staked his life to reach.
Deep in the calm centre of his heart, he could say without hesitation that the future of this era, of this entire country, rested on the shoulders of the first-years at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
If any one of them died, the entire Jujutsu Society would be thrown into absolute chaos.
"Suguru, stop scowling," Asou said, nudging the boy beside him with an elbow.
"You're the one who's too relaxed about it," Geto muttered, annoyed at himself for respecting privacy and not stationing a single cursed spirit in Asou's room.
"Would you seriously have wanted him barging in to ruin your sleep? Because I certainly wouldn't." Asou laid his selfishness bare without a shred of shame. "First, you're a light sleeper and you need your rest. Second, he's huge. If someone has to share a bed with that overgrown cat, I'd rather take the hit. I grew up in a children's home; I'm used to sharing food, space, everything."
"You should have woken me up and dragged him to the front desk to book another room," Geto insisted.
"He didn't bring his ID," Asou countered, perfectly reasonable.
"But he has money…" Geto pointed out. "After you gave him your bed, he could have paid you back for a new one."
"I don't want his money." Asou ended the discussion with a carefree smile.
"GOJO! Don't buy that!" Asou called out, hurrying over. His sharp eyes had spotted Gojo reaching for a stick of candied hawthorn. Street vendors usually cut corners; to make the syrup coat perfectly, most skipped washing the fruit thoroughly. Homemade was far safer.
Geto's eyelid twitched.
Listen to this guy.
No wonder Gojo sometimes mistook Asou for actual Gojo family staff.
There were so few sorcerers in the world that classmates looking out for one another was perfectly normal… right?
"Asou, slow down. He's not a toddler."
Geto had no choice but to lengthen his stride and follow.
He hadn't managed to stop Gojo from buying the candied hawthorn, and now Geto's mild tone somehow made Gojo feel sour. "Glutton."
Gojo, baffled at being scolded for no reason, shrugged it off. "I came to Yokohama for the food. If your stomach's too delicate, nobody's stopping you from catching the next train back to Tokyo."
Geto, who believed his digestive system was made of iron, took that as a personal insult. Without hesitation he pulled out his wallet and bought an entire stick for himself.
Asou's hand didn't reach him in time. "Suguru…"
Geto gave a carefree wave. "I'm just trying it. Relax. My stomach can handle a little street food."
The two of them glossed over the hygiene issue with perfect, polite vagueness in front of the vendor.
Then, right in front of Gojo, Geto crunched down on the candied hawthorn, chewed once, and spat out the pit along with the splintered bamboo skewer.
"Not bad," he declared, licking sugar from his lip.
Gojo: "…"
Gojo's expression shifted. Competitive fire flared bright and immediate.
Before he could lunge for his own stick, Asou grabbed his sleeve and towed him toward the next stall.
"Gojo, over here. Seafood ramen or fried-chicken burger?"
"I want whatever weird-bangs just ate!"
"No way. You can't steal from a classmate, and that candied hawthorn is covered in his spit."
"That's disgusting!"
Misunderstood, Gojo Satoru sulked and refused to acknowledge Asou Akiya for a while. Asou, far from bothered, welcomed the peace and quiet. He asked Geto to keep an eye on the pouting prodigy while he struck up a conversation with the ramen shop's waiter, casually inquiring about the addresses of local haunts like "Morinaga LOVE" and "Aioi Restaurant Tea Room.*"
*{Note: Morinaga LOVE (森永LOVE) is a retro fast-food chain, a 1970s–1980s Japanese burger chain that vanished by the early 2000s. "Aioi Restaurant Tea Room" is the historic Aioi Restaurant (相生レストラン) in Yokohama's Yamashita-chō, famous for its Art-Deco tea room blending Western and Japanese styles. Both are real, now-closed or heavily changed locations that old-timers associate with the urban legend of "Yokohama Mary", the mysterious woman in white who supposedly frequented these spots decades ago.}
Geto's earlier irritation had melted away. He secretly loved watching the cold war unfold between Gojo and Asou.
"What's special about those places?" Geto asked Asou, leaning forward. "If they're too far, forget it."
Asou replied easily, "I just wanted to hear a few of Yokohama's urban legends."
Geto's ears practically twitched at the words "urban legends."
He laced his fingers together, sat up straighter, and adopted the posture of a man ready to drink in every word. Even Gojo, still nursing his grudge, couldn't resist edging closer, curiosity winning out. "First-grade or special-grade?"
Asou blinked, then stared at them both, utterly speechless. "??"
"It's not a cursed spirit, you two," Asou said, waving a hand to dismiss the misunderstanding and gesturing for them to start eating before their ramen went cold. "Yokohama's a city with a turbulent history. I grew up here, and when I was younger, I heard the older folks talk about a mysterious woman known as 'Yokohama Mary*.' They say she's still alive. Her origins and story have a thousand different versions. The shops I asked about are places she's known to visit. The owners who've met her know more than most."
*{Note: Yokohama Mary a prostitute in the Japanese port-city during the years following the end of World War II. She wears make-up as white as a Kabuki actor and is dressed aristocratically. In the winter of 1995, Mary mysteriously disappeares. On April 15, 2006, Takahiro Nakamura released a documentary film about her. The source of the informations about her came from the young staffs who traced her life based on the testimonies of many people involved. Over the course of five years of painstaking work, Mary 's true image gradually emerged, and the postwar history of each of the witnesses was also brought to light. This is also a cross-section of the history of the city of Yokohama, and of Japan as a country.}
Gojo's mind, ever quick to leap to video games, lit up. "Super Mario?"
Asou's gaze went distant with exasperation. "I hope you caught that I said 'woman.'"
Gojo didn't miss a beat. "The kidnapped blonde princess?"
Geto, sticking to facts, corrected him. "The one who's always getting kidnapped is Princess Peach, from the Mushroom Kingdom."
Geto, ever the stickler for accuracy, corrected him. "The princess who's always getting kidnapped is Peach, from the Mushroom Kingdom."
Asou Akiya mentally shut down.
These two high-school boys were clearly far more interested in Nintendo than in urban legends.
When it came time to check out that afternoon, Asou Akiya and Geto Suguru headed to the front desk to settle the bill. Gojo Satoru stayed behind in the small waiting area, sprawled across a sofa, scrolling through his phone and tormenting Ieiri Shoko back at Tokyo Jujutsu High with endless food photos while simultaneously stuffing his own face with snacks.
He overheard a tourist couple from out of town talking about the ryokan.
"From the 29th of June, every single place in Chinatown was fully booked. The prices were insane."
"Expensive is fine. Better than staying in some hotel way out in the suburbs."
"Exactly. Thank goodness the travel agency managed to reserve this one. Tonight we can really soak up the night-market atmosphere."
"Anata, we brought all the disposable toiletries, right? I don't entirely trust the hygiene here."
"Don't worry, I packed everything."
Gojo's crunching stopped mid-bite. His sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose. The Six Eyes swept the entire building in a heartbeat: almost every room occupied.
[Ieiri Shoko: Gojo, are you bored out of your mind? Where did Asou and Geto go? Did they put you up to torturing me with food pics?]
[Gojo Satoru: Nothing better to do. They're checking out right now.]
[Ieiri Shoko: And you?]
[Gojo Satoru: I crashed here in the middle of the night!]
[Ieiri Shoko: I saw the message Asou sent Geto. You really shared a bed with Asou all night??]
[Gojo Satoru: …]
"What the hell is Shoko talking about? Who shared a bed with him?"
Gojo scrolled frantically upward in the chat history. Nothing.
Which could only mean one thing: those three were gossiping about him in some secret group he wasn't part of!
"Little Tangerine clearly went somewhere else to sleep last night…"
His voice dwindled to a mutter.
The Yokohama Port Summer Festival had drawn tourists from every corner of the country. Complaints about nowhere to stay echoed everywhere. Only now did Gojo realise that money alone couldn't buy a room in Chinatown during peak season. A sudden, uncomfortable realization hit him.
When he had kicked Asou out of the room, Asou really hadn't had anywhere else to go.
Gojo genuinely didn't understand. "Why didn't he just say something?"
[Is Little Tangerine some exotic breed that's too shy to speak up?]
Check-out complete, Asou Akiya and Geto Suguru emerged wheeling their suitcases, chatting and laughing. "I got ridiculously lucky booking this place half a month ago. I had no idea rooms would be this scarce. Today's rates are triple what I paid."
Geto thought to himself that Asou was always frighteningly prescient—except, apparently, when it came to Gojo.
Gojo stared, confused. [He really didn't know?]
Asou turned to the other two. "We're in no rush to head back to school. Let's keep wandering, grab more food, and pack some goodies for Shoko."
Gojo tossed his half-eaten snacks aside and dropped the ultimate conversation-killer. "I wanna visit your place."
The children's home was the only place Asou had ever called home. Gojo had never seen it and was curious what his territory looked like.
If the Gojo family hadn't already bought the orphanage, he could just purchase it himself and gift it to Asou.
"It's… not really convenient," Asou declined politely.
Geto hurriedly changed the subject. "Gojo, how about we swing by the harbour and walk along the waterfront instead?"
Gojo, internally: [He won't let me go, huh.]
The gears in Gojo's head spun once behind the dark lenses, invisible to everyone, and he immediately put his newly learned tactic to use. "Akiya, Yokohama's way too small. Is there anywhere you've always wanted to go? I'll take you and weird-bangs and we'll play until we drop."
He remembered perfectly how Asou operated: the only way to get something into the hands of someone who refused gifts was to wait for a holiday or to use someone else as the excuse. Perfect. Weird-bangs was about to become very useful.
Asou assumed Gojo simply preferred the ocean and asked in surprise, "Gojo, aren't you interested in the seaside?"
Gojo shrugged as though it were nothing. "I can look at the sea any time."
Geto cut in calmly, "I have Rainbow Dragon. We don't need Gojo to provide transportation."
Gojo: "…"
He had forgotten.
In the end, Gojo's proposal was unanimously shot down.
Asou took them to the waterfront anyway. Gojo remained distracted, and no one could tell which sight was more mesmerising: the sun-glittered sea stretching to the horizon, or the shifting colours inside the Six Eyes hidden behind those sunglasses.
A random television documentary floated through Asou's mind: the bluer the ocean, the deeper it runs.
Was Gojo the same?
He found a harmless excuse to send Geto ahead for a moment, then slowed his pace until only the two of them remained. "Gojo," he asked quietly, "am I making this trip less fun for you?"
Gojo answered without hesitation, "Nah. I'm looking at the sea."
Asou probed gently, "Want to go play in the water together?"
Gojo's reply was flat. "No need."
Asou pressed his lips together. In the Hidden Inventory arc, Gojo had splashed and laughed with Riko like an ordinary kid. Something was definitely wrong.
He mentally reviewed every word Gojo had said that day, pinpointed the trigger, and tried again. "You wanted to take Suguru somewhere else, didn't you? When he gets back, I'll ask him for you."
Gojo immediately burst out laughing at him.
Little Tangerine—how is it that at the critical moment you're suddenly so slow on the uptake?
"I was asking you."
Asou Akiya felt something inside him waver, but he had no energy left to be moved. Gojo could never value him above Geto.
He asked once more, cautiously. "Is this about the ryokan last night? Are you trying to make it up to me?"
"Just say it already!" The tiny spark of kindness Gojo had been nursing was on the verge of snuffing out.
"There you go getting impatient again." Asou exhaled, relieved now that he understood the cause, and teased him gently. "Use a nicer tone. You're trying to do something good, not pick a fight."
"Quit nagging. People who overthink everything turn into old tangerines." Gojo let the sea wind ruffle his hair, mood suddenly bright again as he fired the insult back. Strands of white flew away from his forehead; the red cord around his wrist flashed vivid and eye-catching whenever he raised a hand to whistle at the gulls overhead.
"If you really want to know where I'd like to go, there is one place," Asou said slowly. He had never intended to drag Gojo into this particular errand.
But the moment Gojo asked, he recognised the opening. Perhaps, just perhaps, an ordinary human life on the edge of ending might touch even his two extraordinary classmates.
"Tell me." Gojo's grin returned in full force, brimming with confidence. "I'll make your wish come true!"
Asou no longer hesitated. "I want to meet this year's eighty-three-year-old Yokohama Mary—her real name is Nishioka Yukiko."
The Yokohama Mary of 2005 no longer lived in Yokohama. She had reclaimed her birth name and now resided in a nursing home as an elderly woman named Nishioka Yukiko, not far from the day her heart would finally give out.
He wanted to meet the woman from the Japanese documentary who had loved only one person for her entire life.
The documentary about Yokohama Mary was not released to the public until the year after her death, in 2006.
In Yokohama she had been a living urban legend: a street-walker for sixty years, forever loving someone she could never have. In her youth the American GIs had called her "Countess" or "Your Majesty"; in old age the same streets nicknamed her "White-Powder Witch" because of the thick, ghostly layer of powder she wore, so white it frightened children.
Her kind and tragic story had been adapted into films, stage plays, novels.
To Asou Akiya, who devoured biographies and world classics the way others breathed air, her memory was etched especially deep.
What he truly wanted was to hear the final insight of a woman who had suffered so much: what kind of flower could bloom from a lifetime of hardship?
He looked at Gojo Satoru with gentle, almost pleading eyes.
The white-haired boy, exuberant boy was already on the phone, barking orders at the Gojo family retainers on the other end. Using the full might of the Gojo clan to locate one elderly woman whose real name and age were known was child's play.
There was only one question Asou wanted to ask the legendary Yokohama Mary.
[What does it feel like to wait for one person, to love one person, with your entire life?]
A love that transcended reality—
Could he, without caring about the ending, receive an answer that also transcended reality?