Two days in a row.
Once again, today's breakfast had been placed outside the door.
Gojo Satoru didn't hear the familiar knocking meant to drag him out of bed, and the absence felt oddly unsettling. He picked up the tray and carried it back to the dorm room.
"No change," he muttered after a glance. "Medium-spicy."
Breakfast consisted of a bowl of rice porridge accompanied by three small side dishes, light and refreshing in both appearance and aroma. Gojo lifted a pair of chopsticks and picked up the spicy smashed cucumber first; the mild heat slid down easily and stirred his appetite. When he reached for the other dishes, he noticed that two of them had deliberately been left without any chili at all.
With time still to spare, Gojo finished eating and wandered outside for a leisurely stroll. His Six Eyes caught sight of Asou Akiya almost immediately.
[Oh. He's training.]
Reflexively, Gojo pulled his gaze back, honoring the promise he had made.
The very next second—
His pupils contracted sharply. Cursed energy surged, and his vision expanded to its absolute limit, a full three hundred and sixty degrees, enveloping the entirety of Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Behind his sunglasses, his eyes shone in broad daylight like a flawless blue sky, dazzling enough to rival the sun itself.
"Akiya's wearing a red cord!"
Gojo's mind instantly announced the cancellation of the self-imposed restriction to the Six Eyes, and they responded with equal excitement.
Without a word of hesitation, Gojo executed a short-range teleport, sprinting across the grounds in his slippers straight to the training field. There, he openly spectated Asou Akiya's relentless morning routine of physical conditioning. Akiya did not turn around, did not tell Gojo to go back and change his shoes; instead, he remained utterly focused, tempering his footwork one movement at a time, sensing the rhythm of every muscle in his body, his expression carved with the resolve of someone giving everything he had.
Gojo Satoru, after all, was a mischievous, trouble-loving DK at heart.
"Akiya~."
The white-haired boy, who absolutely hated being ignored, blinked around the training ground in rapid flashes, poking at shoulders, tugging at hair, and doing everything in his power to break the other's concentration.
Blocking Gojo out entirely, Asou Akiya remained immersed in his own world. His eyes reflected the faint traces left behind by cursed energy after each punch was thrown. He did not care whether his shoulders ached or his scalp stung; after all, within the grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High, there was no one who would truly harm him.
After a few minutes of fruitless harassment, Gojo finally gave up. The playful grin faded from his face, and, in a rare turn of events, he kept quiet.
The Six Eyes gathered information from every possible angle.
[He's really serious about this.]
[His body and cursed energy are synchronizing better.]
[That's strange… as he keeps practicing his punches, there are faint signs of a new "binding vow" forming around Akiya?]
Gojo wanted to ask what was going on. Jujutsu sorcerers did not lightly enter into binding vows; even the medical "binding vow" he shared with Ieiri Shoko leaned more toward playful experimentation—made and dissolved on the same day, leaving no lingering consequences behind.
He waited where he stood for half an hour.
At last, Asou Akiya withdrew his fists and steadied his breathing, looking as though he had just been hauled out of water, drenched from head to toe.
"What is it?" Akiya finally noticed that someone was standing beside him.
"I'm the one who wants to ask what's going on with you," Gojo said, pinching his nose to avoid the smell of sweat as he took a step back. "You're sweating this much—you've even gotten your red cord dirty."
"This?" Akiya raised his wrist, the red cord soaked through. "I'm training my body, so there's no way to avoid sweating. If you don't like that I've gotten it dirty, I just won't wear it next time."
"…"
Gojo fell silent, at a complete loss for words.
"This is a gift I gave you, so how you handle it is up to you," Gojo said, deciding not to interfere any further.
"Don't go yet—this new 'binding vow,'" Gojo added, blocking Asou Akiya's path as he tried to head back. "What's going on with that?"
Akiya answered patiently, his tone calm and unruffled. "It's a binding vow I set for myself. It's meant to heighten my concentration and keep me from getting distracted."
"Wow," Gojo said, impressed. "You're really going all out just to learn Black Flash."
"Of course," Akiya replied, lifting an eyebrow.
Gojo was not the type to meddle unnecessarily. Once he had his answer, he stopped worrying about the binding vow altogether.
Akiya walked back to the dorms with Gojo. Seeing that Gojo's indoor slippers had gotten dirty, Akiya picked them up, took them back to be scrubbed clean, and then set them in a spot where sunlight streamed in to dry.
Gojo casually pulled a book at random from Akiya's bookshelf, then let his gaze drift toward the desk.
A plump black daruma doll sat there, round and endearing, its expression almost foolishly cute.
From the bathroom came the sound of the shower being turned on.
Akiya had gone to wash up.
Gojo immediately turned around, putting his back to the bathroom door. With his sunglasses still on, he reached out and poked the black daruma doll.
It swayed slowly from side to side, unhurried and unbothered.
"So stupid," Gojo muttered.
Amused, Gojo pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the black daruma doll.
He uploaded it to the group chat labeled [Jujutsu High Same-Year Quartet].
The other two classmates, already awake that morning, soon sent their replies.
[Ieiri Shoko: Who bought the daruma doll?]
[Geto Suguru: I brought it as a local specialty for Akiya. Shoko, do you like it? Next time I'll get you a red one.]
[Ieiri Shoko: No, I want a green one.]
[Gojo Satoru: I want a white one. I've got a history exam next month!!!]
A red daruma symbolizes warding off evil and dispelling illness.
A black daruma represents blocking misfortune and accumulating good luck.
A green daruma signifies health and vitality.
A white daruma stands for academic fortune, career success, and even marriage prospects—exactly the kind of luck Gojo desperately needed if he wanted to pass his exams.
In the bathroom, Asou Akiya finished blow-drying his hair and stepped out, refreshed and clean, dressed in a neat black autumn school uniform with long sleeves and trousers, the cuffs concealing the red cord around his wrist. As soon as he emerged, he saw Gojo sitting on a chair with one leg crossed over the other, clearly engrossed in a text conversation with someone.
Akiya poured himself a glass of cold tea. "It's almost time for classes. Aren't you going back to change your clothes?"
"I'll go change in a bit," Gojo replied casually, pointing at him as if he had just noticed something important. "Hey, Akiya, do you have some kind of exhibitionist streak? You didn't even take off the red cord when you showered?"
Akiya laughed, clearly amused. "I dare to wear it—what matters is whether you dare to look."
Gojo fell silent.
…Damn it. He lost that exchange.
Gojo tried to step on Akiya's foot in retaliation, but Akiya dodged easily. Left with no other choice, Gojo stomped off wearing the brand-new slippers Akiya had lent him, grumbling as he went.
A short while later, the three delinquent-looking boys from the male dormitory set off for school together, their figures strung out along the morning path.
On the way, Asou Akiya deliberately struck up a conversation with Geto Suguru, taking the initiative to ask for opportunities to spar in hand-to-hand combat, his attitude earnest and uncharacteristically proactive.
Geto Suguru knew exactly why, and agreed without hesitation.
Gojo Satoru chimed in with what he clearly thought were "auspicious words," grinning shamelessly. "Why not come ask me instead? What if you accidentally beat Suguru to death with a Black Flash?"
Geto Suguru: "..."
Asou Akiya shot back calmly, "And if I train with you, what if I get beaten to death by your Black Flash instead?"
Gojo Satoru immediately seized on the point, dissatisfied. "So you'd rather beat Suguru to death than let me beat you to death?"
Asou Akiya: "...Geto, you handle the arguing."
Geto Suguru sighed. "Thanks for the invitation, but I feel like dark clouds are hanging over my head. I've developed a psychological shadow toward Black Flash recently."
In the span of just a few exchanges, Geto Suguru felt as though he had already died twice in his classmates' mouths.
During hand-to-hand combat class, Asou Akiya's intense state of concentration caught both Geto Suguru and Yaga Masamichi by surprise.
"Akiya, you've finally entered the zone," Yaga Masamichi said with genuine relief, his tone filled with approval.
"Not bad at all," Geto Suguru added, praising him as the one acting as his sparring partner.
Under the shade of a tree, Gojo Satoru and Ieiri Shoko were playing rock–paper–scissors. Hearing the comments, they both turned to look toward the field. The Asou Akiya who usually coasted through hand-to-hand combat class thanks to Geto Suguru holding back was now trading blows with him back and forth, showing faint but unmistakable signs of a real fight taking shape.
Ieiri Shoko tapped Gojo Satoru's arm lightly with her index finger. "Did you three make some kind of bet?"
"Yeah," Gojo Satoru replied cheerfully.
Then, without the slightest sense of shame, he added, "Who would've thought Akiya wants to see us wearing girls' clothes that badly?"
He brazenly dragged Ieiri Shoko closer and shoved his phone in front of her face, scrolling through pictures as he spoke. "Shoko, which JK uniform do you think looks best?"
Ieiri Shoko eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you picking it for?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Gojo Satoru answered, "Akiya."
Ieiri Shoko fell silent for a beat. Then, surrendering to her conscience, she said evenly, "I'd recommend a black-and-white color scheme, or maybe something in brown tones. A plaid skirt would work nicely too."
Gojo Satoru added the outfits he liked straight into the shopping cart. "That's exactly what I was thinking."
Ieiri Shoko considered it a little more. "It feels like he'd suit a gentle-style JK."
Gojo Satoru shuddered dramatically, then complained about a certain someone without restraint. "Akiya is totally the scheming type, okay?"
Ieiri Shoko continued the discussion with surprising seriousness, as if they were genuinely talking about female high school students. "Gojo, you don't understand what kind of girls are popular in normal schools. Gentle and sharp-minded aren't contradictory traits at all. A JK who's emotionally intelligent, smart, and good-looking would absolutely be at school idol level."
Gojo Satoru's understanding of normal schools was a complete blank, filled entirely by anime tropes. "Him? A school idol?"
Ieiri Shoko glanced at him. "You don't believe it?"
Gojo Satoru curled his lips dismissively. "I think he can't compare to my looks."
Ieiri Shoko sneered. "Are you forgetting about physique? You and Geto, with your builds—don't scare people to death. Without a professional stylist, do you really want to be two JKs over 180 centimeters tall who can punch someone to death?"
Gojo Satoru asked earnestly, "But Akiya can also punch someone to death, can't he?"
Ieiri Shoko calmly pulled up a reference image on her phone and held it out to him. "Look at this—girls over one seventy."
Gojo Satoru glanced at it. "Oh? And?"
Ieiri Shoko explained patiently, almost like a lecturer breaking down key points. "Short hair, an androgynous face, a slender but tall frame, that kind of composed, intellectual beauty."
At a single glance, Gojo Satoru immediately identified the model's body type—flat-chested, all bones and no curves. He commented bluntly, without the slightest filter, "That kind of lousy figure isn't even as good as yours, Shoko. No DK would like that, right?"
Ieiri Shoko: "..."
She withdrew her phone with a sharp motion, grinding her teeth in silence. In just a few months, this guy had changed drastically.
Where had the Gojo Satoru who once didn't care about appearances at all, who preached gender equality with a straight face, disappeared to?!
"Shoko, let me tell you," Gojo Satoru went on enthusiastically, completely missing the shift in her expression. "I like real bombshells, the kind like Inoue Waka."
As he spoke, he quickly locked his phone screen. Inoue Waka's photo filled the display—his standby wallpaper in all its unapologetic glory.
"That's not as nice as your previous wallpaper," Ieiri Shoko said coolly. She thought the white-sunglasses cat was ridiculously cute.
"That one was drawn by Akiya," Gojo Satoru replied casually. "I thought it was just okay."
"I'll make sure to tell Asou Akiya exactly how you think about his artwork," Ieiri Shoko said, finally seizing some leverage.
"Go ahead," Gojo Satoru said without a hint of fear. He pushed his sunglasses up slightly, striking a pose as if slipping into an all-knowing detective mode. "I'll bet you he won't talk to anyone lately, and he definitely won't care about something like that."
Ieiri Shoko froze, then suddenly understood. A wave of emotion rose in her chest.
On the training field, the black-haired boy was truly, unmistakably giving it everything he had.
She sighed, then looked back at Gojo Satoru with complicated eyes. "Gojo… why did you suddenly get smart for once?"
"Gojo, why did you suddenly get smart for once?"
"Shoko's the idiot one!"
Gojo Satoru snapped back without missing a beat, then immediately made a tactical retreat, vanishing at top speed so he wouldn't end up getting into a fight with Ieiri Shoko during hand-to-hand combat class.
Well—more accurately, he was afraid he might actually beat her to death.
After class, Asou Akiya learned about the phone wallpaper incident from Ieiri Shoko. He did not, in fact, let it go as easily as Gojo Satoru had predicted. After a brief moment of stunned silence, he spoke in a cool, detached tone, "I didn't expect him to play tricks in other areas too."
Using a single phone wallpaper as leverage, Gojo Satoru had demanded that Aso Akiya stop drawing black foxes altogether and switch to drawing cats instead.
Gojo Satoru had gotten all the benefits for free—and had still kept Inoue Waka as his wallpaper.
At this point, Asou Akiya was focused on forging straight ahead mentally, without hesitation or retreat. He walked directly up to Gojo Satoru and held out his hand.
"Your phone."
Gojo Satoru, still sitting at his desk, blinked. "?"
Asou Akiya spoke calmly, without raising his voice. "Please delete the wallpaper I gave you."
Gojo Satoru's contrarian streak immediately flared up. "Why should I? It's my phone!"
Asou Akiya replied evenly, "You think my drawing is just 'so-so,' and you don't cherish the intention behind it."
Gojo Satoru stalled, his tone unconsciously dropping. "...What intention? I was just telling the truth."
Asou Akiya stubbornly kept his hand extended, insisting on the phone. "I like cats. The little white cat wearing sunglasses is the second cutest cat in the world, and I won't allow you to think it isn't cute."
From the neighboring seat, Geto Suguru chimed in to stir up trouble, grinning as he asked, "Asou, then what's the number one cutest cat in the world?"
Asou Akiya replied without hesitation, his tone calm and unruffled. "A big white cat wearing an eye mask."
Gojo Satoru was instantly displeased by the image. A big white cat with an eye mask—those cats were fat to the point of excess, and with the mask on they looked half-blind, ridiculous rather than charming.
Asou Akiya pressed on, his hand still outstretched. "So? Are you giving it to me, or not?"
Fuming, Gojo Satoru yanked out his phone and, out of sheer irritation, deleted the wallpaper himself.
Asou Akiya calmly returned to his seat and immediately struck up cheerful conversation with Ieiri Shoko, laughing and chatting as though nothing had happened at all. Watching this, Gojo Satoru became even more convinced that this scheming bastard, overflowing with hidden agendas, had absolutely no chance of mastering Black Flash before Halloween. Spurred by spite, he launched his counterattack on the spot.
"Akiya, your Halloween cross-dressing outfit has already been bought by me!"
"Oh? So Shoko isn't providing the clothes after all?" Asou Akiya replied lightly. "Then thank you very much—just make sure you mail it a few days in advance."
Not the slightest hint of anger showed on him. He tilted his head and smiled, deliberately mimicking the sweet, lilting tone of a high school girl, as though the space behind him had been flooded with pure white blossoms in full bloom.
Geto Suguru hurriedly tried to smooth things over. "Gojo, cut it out."
Gojo Satoru shot to his feet, bristling with momentum. "Suguru, look—clearly Akiya's the one who's better suited to wearing women's clothes!"
Geto Suguru wore a deeply conflicted expression, thinking to himself: Even if that were true, you really shouldn't say it out loud.
Asou Akiya interrupted the attempted mediation. "It's fine. Let him say it."
His black eyes remained utterly still, without the slightest ripple of emotion—clear, transparent, and eerily serene, resembling the crystalline clarity of the Six Eyes themselves.
And yet, the flame ignited by a self-imposed binding burned fiercely—not in the flesh, but deep within the soul.
"After all, Gojo doesn't care about what I think. As long as he's happy, that's all that matters to him. Deep down, he looks down on me."
"..."
Gojo Satoru was left speechless, his retort sputtering out before it could take shape.
"That's not what I meant…"
He slumped back into his seat, his lips moving uncertainly, and cast a helpless, pleading glance toward Geto Suguru.
Geto Suguru could offer no rescue. He raised his book to shield his face, more curious than anything about how Asou had suddenly exploded like this.
Ieiri Shoko stepped in to soothe the situation. "Just ignore Gojo."
Asou Akiya's gaze no longer carried that excessive, unnatural stillness. Late October sunlight streamed in through the classroom windows, yet all he could feel in his body was a biting chill; the burning heat existed only in his chest, trapped at his heart, unable to spread to his limbs.
"I'm working hard. I've spoken of my resolve. How can he dismiss me so lightly?"
Asou Akiya was not the type to wallow in self-pity.
"I just remembered something," he said abruptly. "You all go on ahead with class. I'll be back later."
Instead of waiting in the classroom for the lesson to begin, Asou Akiya stepped outside and went to find Yaga Masamichi, intending to request to be the one who set the questions for next month's history exam.
Yaga Masamichi felt entirely at ease entrusting the task to Asou Akiya—especially after Asou explained that the theme of the exam would be Master Tengen.
"I hope everyone can come to understand Master Tengen," Asou Akiya said earnestly. "After all, Master Tengen has sacrificed so much. Ideally, once Gojo finishes the exam, he'll go home and leaf through some ancient texts on his own."
In his own way, Asou Akiya was making every arrangement within his power for the upcoming Star Plasma Vessel mission.
Countdown to death: 326 hours.
Asou Akiya worked on drafting the exam questions while simultaneously making a request of Yaga Masamichi. "Yaga-sensei… Dad," he said after a moment's hesitation. "Over the next few days, I want to devote myself completely to mastering Black Flash. It would be best if I could accompany you on high-difficulty missions. On my own, I can't take assignments involving Grade Two cursed spirits yet."
Yaga Masamichi looked at him steadily and asked a single question—could he guarantee that he would maintain the same condition he had shown in today's hand-to-hand combat class, without faltering?
Asou Akiya nodded in answer.
With the matter of the history exam settled, Asou Akiya left the teachers' office, fully aware that he had essentially skipped an entire theory class. Fortunately, Yaga Masamichi considered the preparation of the exam papers far more important and did not send him back to attend the lesson.
Asou Akiya no longer had the energy to cook. He sent a message to Gojo Satoru, telling him to figure out lunch on his own.
He went by himself to the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College shop to buy some bread.
The shop attendant looked at him in mild surprise. "Asou-kun, this is the first time I've ever seen you buy bread."
He replied calmly, "I felt like eating it for once."
Asou Akiya tore open the packaging and finished the bread quickly, filling his stomach. After that, he went to look for Geto Suguru. He gave up his lunch break entirely, intending to ask Geto to use his cursed spirits as sparring partners. He was unwilling to waste even a single moment of time.
As he headed toward the boys' dormitory, Asou Akiya heard the distant ringing of a bicycle bell, and both his eyelids twitched at the same time.
Gojo Satoru came charging over on a bicycle and slammed on the brakes.
"I'm taking you out to eat!" he declared.
"No need. You go by yourself. I have something to discuss with Geto at noon."
Asou Akiya refused without hesitation.
Driven by his desire to reach his goal as quickly as possible, his steps were hurried, cursed energy wrapped tightly around his entire body, maintaining a constant state of extreme tension.
Gojo Satoru grabbed hold of Asou Akiya's arm. "If you keep going like this," he said bluntly, "you'll only end up doing the opposite of what you want."
Asou Akiya did not agree. "I trust your earlier judgment. You said I've already reached the minimum threshold required to learn 'Black Flash.' I'm working toward that goal right now, and giving it everything I have is only natural."
Gojo Satoru exposed the truth of his condition without mercy. "You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?"
Asou Akiya replied with calm indifference, "And what of it?"
He continued evenly, "I can feel that my physical condition is fine. I'm healthy. Shoko has already helped me eliminate the fatigue. The things you can all do so easily—if I have to put in a little more effort, that's only normal, isn't it?"
Gojo Satoru's expression cooled. He slammed his thumb down on the bicycle bell, the sharp ring cutting through the air. "Wouldn't it be faster if I helped you instead?"
Asou Akiya gave a faint, self-mocking smile. "As if I'd dare waste your precious mealtime."
Gojo Satoru stared at him in silence for two full seconds.
"You're still angry?"
"No way. Seriously? No way?"
"Hey, an entire class period has already passed. How can you be this petty?"
Gojo Satoru was close to losing his mind; he simply could not comprehend how someone could stew in silent resentment for so long.
"That's right. I am petty," Asou Akiya admitted without argument. "Now move."
"Tch." Gojo Satoru stepped off his bicycle and suddenly seized Asou Akiya by the shoulder. Their figures vanished in an instant, and when they reappeared, they were already floating high above a sea of thick clouds, as though they had stepped into a celestial realm.
Gojo Satoru blinked at Asou Akiya with a playful wink, his bearing light and otherworldly, like a god strolling through the heavens.
He loosened his grip.
Asou Akiya did not reach out to catch him. He said nothing, offered no resistance, and simply allowed his body to fall, surrendering to the pull of gravity.
Gojo Satoru caught him at once, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him back up. Puzzled, he asked, "The internet says people in a bad mood like bungee jumping. This is way more exciting than that, isn't it? Doesn't it help you blow off some steam?"
What Asou Akiya felt was not relief, but a crushing weight born of the sheer disparity in their strength.
From up close, Gojo Satoru studied his face, bright and open. "You're not talking anymore?"
In Asou Akiya's mind, Ieiri Shoko's words echoed again: "Just ignore Gojo."
Suddenly, a sharp, sour ache welled up in his chest.
For the sake of Gojo Satoru's carefree ease, he himself was anxious at every moment, burdened by worries that never ceased.
Gojo Satoru pinched his cheek and tugged it outward. "If you're angry, then say it. If you don't say anything, how am I supposed to know?"
Asou Akiya replied hoarsely, "You'd only get angrier than me and deliberately go against me."
"Do I?" Gojo Satoru said.
He forgot unpleasant memories at lightning speed, forever living in the present, maintaining an unfailingly positive attitude toward life.
"Hey—want to try again?"
"…What?"
"Make a demand of me. Any demand at all. I'll satisfy it."
"..."
Dizziness washed over Asou Akiya amid the sudden drops and abrupt halts in midair.
Gojo Satoru hovered above him, like a divine child who held dominion over life and death, one hand hooked casually in the collar of his clothes.
A faint ripple of moisture shimmered in Asou Akiya's eyes, like a thin veil of mist stirred by a breath of wind.
"Smile for me once."
Gojo Satoru—when you are unhappy, you do not smile; when you do not like something, you do not smile.
"Oh."
Gojo Satoru's expression did not change. It was that request again.
Never one to contradict himself, Gojo Satoru paused to consider it. His facial muscles refused to move, and not a trace of joy surfaced in his heart. With a hint of helplessness, he said, "I can't smile."
Before Asou Akiya could feel disappointed, Gojo Satoru made a counterproposal instead. "Then Akiya, tell me a joke~."
Asou Akiya replied evenly, his voice calm and steady:
"Once upon a time, there was a so-called strongest person who went around every day proclaiming how amazing he was, yet in the end he couldn't protect his junior, couldn't protect his closest friend, couldn't protect his teacher. With blood running from his nose, he said, 'The students are still watching me.' His brain was like blood-curdled tofu seeping liquid, pain leaking out from every fissure."
Asou Akiya smiled as he finished.
"Isn't it funny?"
Gojo Satoru regarded the joke with unsettling purity, divinity and humanity alternating within him. Even stripped of mercy, there was something compelling about him.
"Is this the kind of protector Akiya likes?" he asked quietly. "Protecting the weak is an exhausting thing."
"Or is it that—"
"Akiya thinks I'll end up walking down that road?"
At last, the white-haired child of the Six Eyes turned a smile toward Asou Akiya—cold, sharp, and utterly devoid of warmth.
"…Yeah. It really is pretty funny."
Gojo Satoru lifted a hand and lightly blew aside Asou Akiya's bangs, revealing his entire face. It was a face that appeared gentle at first glance, yet beneath that softness lay the same coldness and rational clarity throughout—utterly unlike someone who would rely on or yearn for a protector, unmistakably the face of an independent soul.
"See? I smiled," Gojo Satoru said shamelessly, twisting logic to suit himself. "Now it's your turn to grant my wish."
Words became blades, piercing straight through pretense.
"What were you doing before dawn? Why did you lock the desk drawer? You've never guarded yourself against me."
"..."
"Talk, Akiya. If you don't say anything…"
Gojo Satoru leaned close to Asou Akiya's ear, his voice low and teasing.
"…I'll take it as permission to pry that drawer open."
Asou Akiya was not surprised in the least. Letting Gojo Satoru into his dorm was already a risk, all the more so when he himself was wearing the red cord.
"There's a death letter in there."
"?"
"Is that strange? Sorcerers writing their own death letter is an old tradition."
"??"
"You've seen it before, haven't you? Clan members heading into dangerous missions, reluctant to part from the world, leaving behind a letter for the ones they cherish, pouring into it all the words they could never say while alive."
"I've told you countless times," Gojo Satoru said, his tone sharpening, "if you're afraid, then hide behind me."
"No."
Asou Akiya refused him, unwavering to the end.
Only this—
Only this one thing,
Only the act of standing behind Gojo Satoru—he would never agree to!
A tremor crept into Asou Akiya's voice. "The more afraid I am, the more I have to stand in front. I have to face those raging winds and towering waves head-on, and do the things that only I can do, things no one else can replace."
Gojo Satoru's eyelids lowered slightly as he spoke with blunt honesty. "If you keep going like that, you'll end up shattered to pieces."
Asou Akiya replied indifferently, "That doesn't matter."
Gojo Satoru spoke again, slowly this time. "A year ago, the one who cursed me… was you, wasn't it?"
Are you insane? Since when do I have the power to curse you?
Genuine shock surfaced on Asou Akiya's face, utterly unfeigned.
"Those three 'bindings,'" Gojo Satoru said, bringing up the oaths again. The tips of his ears flushed red, as if suspecting that this was where that mortifying title—Divine Child—had originated. "I mentioned it to you once at Kyoto High. You definitely forgot what you did. Back then I was watching Howl's Moving Castle, and I suddenly sneezed three times in a row. I even thought the barrier at home had failed."
"Akiya, the 'bindings' you place on yourself are seriously terrifying."
Gojo Satoru had only ever seen such things recorded in ancient texts—how not only negative emotions, but positive ones as well, could crystallize into curses.
"I'm not going to keep guessing," he said flatly. "You thought I wouldn't press you on it, didn't you?"
"So what's the fourth one-way 'binding'?"
"And what's the condition to release it?"
Dealing with an Asou Akiya who had turned into a stubborn, tight-lipped gourd made Gojo Satoru feel a rare flicker of irritation. It almost felt like before any curse spirit could get to him, Akiya might manage to destroy himself first.
Gojo Satoru fired a straight shot. "Say it, and I'll wear women's clothes with you on Halloween."
Asou Akiya finally broke, letting out a soft, involuntary laugh.
Gojo Satoru exaggerated dramatically, "Hey, this would be my first time ever cross-dressing. It's extremely precious, you know! If Shoko hadn't said your girl's outfit would be school-idol level, I would never have made a promise like this."
"Too late," Asou Akiya replied.
Gojo Satoru was still wearing that animated, over-the-top expression, yet his gaze remained unmistakably cold.
It was Asou Akiya's spring breeze that surrendered first. He stepped forward and embraced the bright moon hanging high in the sky. The moon did not struggle.
"I didn't lie to you this morning," he said softly. "The 'binding' I set for myself was to master Black Flash before this year's Halloween."
Asou Akiya closed his eyes and reached out to him, afraid that if he kept them open, the reluctance in his gaze would spill through the narrow seam between his lashes.
"Just think of it as me having cursed myself."
How wonderful.
Being fifteen years old was truly beautiful.
Held in that embrace, Gojo Satoru was flooded with information from every direction, yet the clearest of all was the person in his arms.
—He was smiling as if he were on the brink of death.
A bead of cold sweat slid down Gojo Satoru's forehead, and in that instant, he finally understood what a rational madman looked like.
He could not comprehend the despair born of the gap in talent between sorcerers, but he could see, with painful clarity, the Asou Akiya before him who was staking everything on his effort.
Was Black Flash really that difficult?
A technique he himself could grasp with effortless ease—yet for this person, it required wagering his very life for a single chance.
[Akiya, you were right not to become an assistant supervisor and to insist on walking the path of a jujutsu sorcerer.]
[I acknowledge your madness in pursuing strength.]
[If that's the case, then go mad all the way to the end.]
Gojo Satoru executed several short-range teleports in rapid succession, carrying his companion to the nearest concentration of cursed spirits and launching straight into a midday exorcism.
"Don't go looking for Geto," Gojo Satoru said, his perception unrivaled in the jujutsu world, as he spoke to Asou Akiya, who was still dizzy from the sudden flashes of movement. "Geto's cursed spirits aren't meant to be exorcised. I'll take you to deal with the ones nearby—only Grade Two and above, the kind that can put real pressure on you, the kind that can bring you face-to-face with death."
All those bureaucratic procedures from the higher-ups were a pain in the ass.
Gojo Satoru had his own way of jolting someone awake. "Wake up already, Akiya. The cursed spirits you wanted are here!"
Asou Akiya opened his eyes, only to be met head-on by a cursed spirit so grotesque it was almost obscene, and his sense of danger detonated instantly.
By sheer reflex, he gathered his cursed energy and threw a punch.
"Not enough," Gojo Satoru said.
Gojo Satoru caught Asou Akiya by the arm, and with the Six Eyes' ultra-precise control over energy, he guided him directly. "Your cursed energy is like fire—let it run wilder. Don't be afraid that your total reserves are too low. Let your will command your body and your cursed energy alike. The power you release in that instant should be stronger, faster, and far more intimidating."
Asou Akiya could feel Gojo Satoru's brilliant blue cursed energy layering over his own, sending shivers through him—overwhelmingly cold, overwhelmingly powerful.
Gojo Satoru demonstrated for him. "Throw your punch like this."
With a single strike, Gojo Satoru annihilated the Grade Two cursed spirit, without even needing to use Black Flash.
Even his most basic attack consumed cursed energy at a level so efficient it was practically zero loss.
The Gojo Satoru explaining technique was no longer the flighty, absurd genius who acted on a whim; in that moment, he looked uncannily like a young prodigy of a teacher, composed and precise.
Who said Gojo Satoru didn't know how to teach? It wasn't that he lacked the ability—it was simply that he was too lazy to bother, too busy to spare the time.
"Within ten days," Gojo Satoru said flatly, "I'll teach you Black Flash."
The death countdown—
It seemed to be drowned out by a sudden burst of light, a radiance powerful enough to shatter the existing balance of the jujutsu world.
The focus, patience, meticulous care, and overwhelming, unparalleled confidence offered by the man called Gojo Satoru.
Asou Akiya's concentration rose to an extreme.
It felt as though he had forged an intimate connection with the Six Eyes themselves. Residual traces of cursed energy overlapped and interwove, and the Infinite technique that normally separated all space was no longer there. Gojo Satoru's eyes became his eyes; Gojo Satoru's experience became his experience; Gojo Satoru's confidence became his confidence. With every fiber of his being, he erupted into a greedy absorption, drinking in all the information the other was transmitting.
A bird with no place to land had finally found a sky vast enough to rest within; a fish dying of thirst had encountered an endless, boundless sea.
Not for a single moment did he dare allow his attention to wander.