In the bustling city, some people were playing at trick or treat, while others chose to stand beyond the crowds and simply watch the scenery.
Zen'in Toji had no interest in Halloween. It wasn't nearly as entertaining as killing cursed spirits. However, the person he was currently "dating" wanted to come out and have some fun, and because having someone help look after the kid at home was convenient for him, he agreed to this outing.
"Zen'in, over here."
She was a young woman who had been divorced once, with delicate features and a gentle, homey air about her.
She raised her hand and waved at the handsome man stepping out of a taxi.
Zen'in Toji, his dark green eyes catching the light, smiled faintly as he lowered his head and got out of the cab, slipping effortlessly into that particular manner he reserved for dealing with women.
[Not a rich woman—so she probably won't be too fussy about gains and losses.]
Zen'in Toji thought lazily.
This time, he hadn't gone fishing for a wealthy woman. Instead, he had chosen an ordinary, non-sorcerer divorcée, deliberately distancing himself from the turmoil of both the jujutsu world and the circle of rich women. Judging purely by external conditions, she was a rather poor choice: her financial strength was lacking. Her advantage lay in her ample experience caring for children, and when she smiled, there was a distinctly maternal warmth about her—perfect for helping Zen'in Toji look after his two-year-old kid.
The two of them looked exactly like the kind of mutually attracted, divorced urban adults one might see in a television drama: one leaving behind a son who had only just been weaned, the other leaving behind a sensible daughter at home. After dressing up with care, they met on Halloween for a clandestine date.
Zen'in Toji said in a low voice, "Fushiguro, there are too many people in Shibuya. Be careful."
The woman with the surname "Fushiguro" waited expectantly for the man to take her hand.
Living up to his reputation as a "rich-woman slayer," Zen'in Toji read the situation with high emotional intelligence and reached out to take her hand.
His warm, broad palm seemed to carry a heat like fire.
Her hand was slightly damp with sweat.
Only Zen'in Toji himself knew that he was no blazing inferno at all; at best, he was nothing more than a spark that had already gone out, smothered in a pile of dead, withered firewood.
Amid the dense crowds of Shibuya, Zen'in Toji guided the woman protectively through the flow of people. Neither of them wore any Halloween costumes. They looked just like an ordinary couple swallowed up by the mundane world, brushing past the four "JKs" from Tokyo Jujutsu High without a second glance.
The gloomy beauty of the black-haired, straight-haired "girl" was strikingly distinctive, and the handbag she carried was a luxury brand, but to someone like Zen'in Toji, who had seen countless people, the difference between male and female was obvious at a glance. That person was a flat-chested male high school student, slender in build, not yet fully developed—hips too narrow, legs wrapped in knee-high socks that were unmistakably the legs of a boy.
In the next instant, Zen'in Toji's sharp senses caught the tall, white-haired "JK" beside him.
White hair—oh. A wig.
Chest—fake.
A girl? No. A boy in the middle of puberty.
Blue eyes… tch.
Do kids these days really like dressing up as high school girls? Those were probably colored contacts.
"Wait. Those eyes look a little familiar." Zen'in Toji twisted his neck and glanced back at the people walking away in the opposite direction. A sudden stir rose in his chest, and his voice came out oddly strained. "Don't tell me… the Gojo family's 'Six Eyes' young lady?"
The surroundings were far too noisy. The woman beside him thought she had misheard. "What Six Eyes?"
"Nothing." Zen'in Toji kept his gaze straight ahead, instinctively tugging her along as if to escape the "Six Eyes."
He didn't quite understand himself why he was so intent on avoiding Gojo Satoru.
Perhaps it was simply a desire to stay far away from the Three Great Families.
If Kong Shiyu had been there, he probably would have tossed out a line like "kings don't meet kings," only to be met with Zen'in Toji's merciless ridicule. After all, Zen'in Toji had never once believed he stood on equal footing with Gojo Satoru. In the eyes of the Three Great Families, he was nothing more than discarded trash. And Gojo Satoru? He was the darling of the Three Great Families, a once-in-five-hundred-years prodigy of the jujutsu world.
While the woman went into a scarf shop to pick out Halloween gifts, Zen'in Toji bought a scratch-off lottery ticket from a roadside stand.
The powerfully built "Heavenly Tyrant" squatted at the edge of the bustling city, utterly bored.
Until he scratched the ticket—
[First Prize.]
Zen'in Toji suddenly sprang straight up on the spot, clenching his fist tightly.
He looked around, but there was no one he could share the moment with. The woman inside the shop was completely immersed in the joy of choosing gifts.
He dialed Kong Shiyu's private number. "I won! First prize!"
Outside of missions, Kong Shiyu always lived in strict secrecy. The only reason he even answered the call was out of respect for Zen'in Toji. At first glance, someone winning a prize wasn't anything special, but Kong Shiyu immediately thought of Zen'in Toji's outrageously cursed gambling luck. Any opportunity where money might fall from the sky, Zen'in Toji had never once hit—he was the kind of person even the heavens seemed to despise.
By contrast, Kong Shiyu himself had secretly followed Zen'in Toji's bets in reverse a few times and had accidentally made a decent profit.
Unable to hold back, Kong Shiyu asked, "Are you in Tokyo?"
Last time, Zen'in Toji had mentioned that his luck in Tokyo seemed to have improved.
Zen'in Toji's voice floated smugly through the phone, brimming with self-satisfaction. "Nope, Shibuya. I'm on a date with a woman, felt lucky so I bought a scratch-off, and sure enough—today's my lucky day."
Kong Shiyu murmured, "Has his luck finally turned?"
If that were the case, then he would have to start recommending some… special jobs to Zen'in Toji.
But Kong Shiyu abruptly forced himself to calm down. How long could a first prize possibly stay in Zen'in Toji's hands?
"Go cash it in first," he said. "Don't let the money slip away after you've already won it."
"Got it."
Zen'in Toji went into the shop to inform the woman. She was overjoyed, and the two of them went together to the place where the prize money could be redeemed.
Later, on Halloween night, Kong Shiyu received a message from Zen'in Toji, and his mood grew complicated.
Zen'in Toji had not taken the prize money to gamble.
Instead…
He had given it to that woman.
[Sorcerer Killer: I need her to take care of my child.]
The "Sorcerer Killer," who had always been cold-blooded and merciless toward jujutsu sorcerers, cursed spirits, and wealthy patrons alike, had developed a weakness at last. The child named Megumi was a gift bestowed upon Zen'in Toji by the heavens, and in Kong Shiyu's eyes, the last remaining trace of humanity left in him.
Kong Shiyu lit a cigarette and smoked for a long while before letting out a self-mocking chuckle. "I said I wouldn't smoke tonight."
Zen'in Toji's gambling luck was… not reasonable.
Kong Shiyu deleted the message on his phone, then, unable to restrain himself, sent a reply.
[Broker: Did anything else happen to you today?]
A minute passed.
[Sorcerer Killer: I ran into the "Six Eyes," hahahahaha—he was wearing a JK uniform!]
[Sorcerer Killer: That white-haired brat has changed completely!]
[Sorcerer Killer: The people with him must be his companions. I memorized all four of their faces. Next time, send me the bounty photos from Tokyo Jujutsu High so I can take a look—might as well familiarize myself with the newest crop of sorcerers.]
Zen'in Toji's mood slid from its earlier high, and the barrage of exclamation points stopped. His messages shifted instead toward cold, practical considerations—information, faces, targets.
Kong Shiyu felt his heart jolt.
Had Zen'in Toji finally stopped chasing rich women? Was the Sorcerer Killer preparing to step back into the jujutsu world?
[Broker: Aren't you taking care of your son anymore?]
A minute passed.
[Sorcerer Killer: I ran into the "Six Eyes," hahahahaha—he was wearing a JK uniform!]
[Sorcerer Killer: That white-haired brat has changed completely!]
[Sorcerer Killer: The people with him must be his companions. I memorized all four of their faces. Next time, send me the bounty photos from Tokyo Jujutsu High so I can take a look—might as well familiarize myself with the newest crop of sorcerers.]
Zen'in Toji's mood slid from its earlier high, and the barrage of exclamation points stopped. His messages shifted instead toward cold, practical considerations—information, faces, targets.
Kong Shiyu felt his heart jolt.
Had Zen'in Toji finally stopped chasing rich women? Was the Sorcerer Killer preparing to step back into the jujutsu world?
[Broker: Aren't you taking care of your son anymore?]
[Sorcerer Killer: Staying far away from him is what's best for him. I'm not some kind of lucky man.]
In the outside world, where the temperature was steadily dropping, Zen'in Toji closed his phone. The bright, open smile he had worn while redeeming the prize money slowly twisted into something mocking, edged with self-ridicule. He had not been blinded by this sudden stroke of luck.
He had already seen through the greed the woman was doing her best to conceal—that naked craving for money and material comfort.
As long as there was a weakness, it was enough.
He did not need a second kind woman.
Zen'in Toji had money, and he could make more money. As long as that was true, his child would have someone to take care of him, someone who would not abandon him.
"Fushiguro," Zen'in Toji said calmly, "let's get married by the end of the year. I'll marry into your family."
He would abandon the name "Zen'in."
He would cut away his weakness, his past, and his pride, severing them all cleanly, and live alone in this world.
After all, a trash like him… no one would ever care anyway.
...
In the dead of night, everyone returned to Tokyo Jujutsu High aboard the Rainbow Dragon, utterly exhausted.
Bags and packages were piled everywhere. Asou Akiya dropped his shopping onto the floor and collapsed onto the sofa, boneless. Slumped in nearly identical poses beside him were Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru, the three of them stretched out like long strips of indolent JKs.
"Why are you all crowding into my room?" Asou Akiya complained.
He lightly kicked Geto Suguru, only for Geto to grab his ankle and start tickling the sole of his foot.
! ! !
Caught completely off guard, Asou Akiya burst out laughing and tumbled straight off the sofa.
At the dull thump of a body hitting the floor, Gojo Satoru cracked open one eye. Propping himself against the edge of the sofa, he laughed at the sight below. "Miss Tomie, Tokyo Jujutsu High's most beautiful school idol—your skirt's about to flip up."
Asou Akiya indignantly sat up on the floor and pressed his skirt down over his thighs. "Go to sleep, both of you!"
Geto Suguru spoke up, his tone deceptively casual. "Akiya, what's this about a will?"
Gojo Satoru drawled lazily, "I'm exhausted. I don't feel like moving. Just open the drawer already."
Halloween was over, and with it came the inevitable reckoning after autumn.
Asou Akiya shot the two of them a glare, then stood up. With composed, almost elegant movements, he smoothed his disheveled long hair and padded barefoot toward the desk. His bare feet moved soundlessly across the floor, the shape of his toes graceful even beneath his socks, making Geto Suguru think—yet again—that Akiya's talent for cross-dressing was anything but ordinary.
Asou Akiya found the key and unlocked the drawer. Inside lay a single envelope: his last will.
His hand hesitated. Cursed energy flickered at his fingertips, and then two hands—cold as ghosts—settled onto his shoulders.
Asou Akiya calmly stopped himself from destroying the letter.
"I lied to you."
"If I really wanted to destroy the will, there'd be no way you'd ever get to see it."
During his period of recovery, the thought of destroying that letter had crossed his mind more than once. Yet he believed, deep down, that he had nothing to be ashamed of. Rather than letting his last words become a secret carried to the grave, it was better to complete what remained unfinished while he was still alive.
Gojo Satoru cheerfully picked up the will, leaning in with Geto Suguru under the desk lamp to read it together.
Between the two of them, it was impossible to tell who was more mischievous.
Geto Suguru read aloud, his voice steady but low:
"All this time, I've wanted to raise a cat—to watch it grow up, and grow old together with it."
Gojo Satoru blinked. "Raise a cat? That's hardly a difficult request, is it?"
Geto continued reading, his tone gradually sinking.
"If my death causes you pain, I'm sorry. I really did my best. Please cremate my body, copy my soul data, and turn me into a cursed corpse."
Gojo Satoru fell silent for a moment. "...Like Yaga's cursed corpses?"
Geto Suguru read the final line.
"In my next life, I want to become a cat and stay by your side."
When Geto finished reading, a heavy weight settled in his chest. He turned his head to look at Asou Akiya, who had written the will behind their backs. Akiya was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the cursed corpse Mii-chan in his arms, his face buried deep in the brightly colored knitted body, as if he didn't want to face his classmates at all.
Gojo Satoru had already recorded every word with his Six Eyes, missing nothing, confirming that this was indeed the original document.
On the white paper, there was more than just inked words—there were traces Geto could not see.
…Tear marks.
Was Akiya truly that sad?
That red string—had he started wearing it back then?
Gojo Satoru abruptly snatched the cursed corpse Mii-chan out of Asou Akiya's arms and said with blatant disgust, "You got foundation all over its face."
Asou Akiya: "..."
Geto Suguru fetched a damp towel, crouched down, and gently wiped Asou Akiya's face. "Neither Gojo nor I meant any harm. We were just worried about you. He's just bad with words—don't take it to heart."
Asou Akiya looked away. "I'll do it myself."
Throughout the entire interaction, Geto Suguru showed not the slightest hint of impropriety. He treated Asou Akiya openly and uprightly, as a fellow student, never once viewing him as some fragile JK in disguise.
Gojo Satoru, who had originally shared a similar mindset, stopped fighting him for the towel.
For Gojo Satoru, "Tomie" still carried an unfamiliar sense of distance.
He couldn't understand why Akiya's final wish was so simple, and he outright rejected the idea of cursed corpses. "Akiya, I've never made a cursed corpse before. But even if your soul information were copied and turned into one, it wouldn't be you anymore."
Asou Akiya didn't seem to care. "As long as I can stay with you, that's enough."
That was exactly what Gojo Satoru hated most—Asou Akiya's refusal to see reality clearly. He squeezed Mii-chani in his hand. "Do you think we want a doll?"
Asou Akiya wiped his face calmly. "What else can a dead person do?"
Gojo Satoru's voice hardened. "You're going to live."
Geto Suguru followed up immediately, his tone firm and resolute. "If your talent isn't enough, we'll help you. If your strength isn't enough, I'll lend you money to buy cursed tools. We're classmates—helping each other is only natural. This time, you can't argue that we don't have the responsibility or obligation to do so, right?"
The tension finally eased from Asou Akiya's expression. "Thank you."
He glanced once more at the alarm clock on the bedside table, the warmth in his eyes slowly freezing over.
"The will's been read. You two should get some rest."
Outside the door—
The two who had been kicked out stared at each other in silence. In Asou Akiya's view, maintaining a normal daily routine was far more important than a will.
"Geto, we'll talk tomorrow," Gojo Satoru said as he pulled off the high ponytail wig that had grown stifling after wearing it for too long.
Geto Suguru loosened his hair tie and stretched lazily. As he did, the hem of his top rode up, briefly exposing his waist, but he didn't care about such a trivial slip. The two of them headed toward their respective dorm rooms, and he added casually, "Alright. Gojo, don't forget to remove your makeup. Good night."
Inside the dorm, Gojo Satoru stood in front of the sink, rubbing his face as he used an excessive amount of cleansing oil to strip away every trace of makeup.
Beneath his feet lay the JK skirt he had just taken off.
In the past, he could have asked Asou Akiya for help. Asou Akiya would always do it with meticulous care—removing his makeup with gentle, practiced motions, massaging his skin, pressing a warm towel to his face, never hurting him in the slightest, and finally turning off the lights to coax him to sleep. But things were different now. Even someone as obtuse as Gojo Satoru understood that he needed to be mindful of his classmate's feelings—otherwise, Geto would drag him straight out of Asou Akiya's dorm.
He tossed his clothes around carelessly, then went to take a shower, washing himself back into a "normal" state. Dressed in his pajamas, he climbed into bed to rest, the Six Eyes feeling uncomfortably sensitive after all the stimulation from cosmetics and cleansing oil.
After turning off the lights, Gojo Satoru stared at the ceiling hidden in the darkness for a long while.
Sleepiness gradually welled up.
Yet his thoughts refused to slow.
He thought of the chaotic makeup session he and Geto had gone through during the day; of the scene in the afternoon when the four of them reunited; of the horror manga Tomie he had seen on the bus; of "Kawakami Tomie," with those black eyes beneath her blunt bangs—eyes that seemed to speak, to deceive—cold and world-weary when she wasn't smiling, yet possessed of a strange, uncanny allure when she did.
Kawakami Tomie and Inoue Waka were two completely different types—one belonged to the two-dimensional world, the other to the three-dimensional one.
The high school girl in the manga didn't seem inferior to the mature women of reality at all.
He thought they were both pretty good.
An hour of such idle, wandering thoughts slipped by. Gojo Satoru entered the REM phase of sleep, and began to dream.
In his dream, he saw Kawakami Tomie—the very figure he had been imagining before he fell asleep.
The black-haired girl rested her head on the edge of his bed, clad in a sailor uniform. Her long hair — cool and silken — coiled around Gojo Satoru like a water snake. When she saw him "open his eyes," she smiled with devastating allure. Her red lips were far from any nude shade, and the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye was no longer the mere "mole on her face" he had once dismissively called it. Now it was a weapon — a deliberate, provocative signal designed to ensnare men.
"Satoru."
Tomie Kawakami reached out, wrapping her arms around the man so tantalizingly close, her voice dripping with the coquettish sweetness of a high school girl.
"Don't sleep anymore. Come out with me, please?"
"I want to buy out every luxury store."
Gojo Satoru seized her throat in his hand, his expression utterly blank.
Kawakami Tomie's dark eyes cooled by several degrees. Her eyeliner winged upward sharply as she stared straight into him.
"Don't you think I'm beautiful?"
"My figure is better than Inoue Waka's."
"Or have you… fallen for someone else, Satoru? Are you tired of a JK like me?"
Beneath the sailor uniform, Tomie Kawakami's body curved in exquisite, breathtaking proportions — the bow at her collar pushed forward proudly, wholly worthy of the infamous heroine from that renowned horror manga.
The high school girl who possessed the power to captivate every soul in the world was now radiating her charm toward one man alone.
She embodied every virtue countless women longed for — laced with just the faintest trace of vain delight in adoration.
At last, Gojo Satoru spoke.
"Who gave you permission to use my name?"
His voice carried the pinnacle of icy cruelty.
The gulf between fantasy and reality was displayed with brutal clarity in the body of the "Six Eyes" prodigy.
Without the slightest hesitation, he crushed the neck of the heart-devouring monster. The long, straight black-haired beauty's head lolled to the side, her eyes wide open in death, unable to close.
Gojo Satoru kicked her off the bed, pulled the blanket back over himself, and went straight to sleep.
"Disgusting."
In the dream, the dead Kawakami Tomie exhaled her final breath and collapsed onto the floor, her hair loose and disheveled, looking exactly like a vengeful female ghost. A strip of skin was exposed at her waist, while the hem of her pleated skirt stubbornly continued to cover her thighs. From each strand of hair on the corpse, new Kawakami Tomies began to sprout—reviving after death—one after another softly calling out the name of the man who had killed them.
["Satoru." "Satoru." "Satoru." "Gojo Satoru… who do you think is prettier?"]
Countless monsters proliferated, crawling toward the white-haired boy sleeping on the bed with his arms wrapped tightly around his blanket. The lights flickered, bright one moment and dim the next.
A brilliant burst of azure light suddenly exploded into existence.
"Blue!"
In the dead of night, Gojo Satoru abruptly blew up his own dormitory, jolting his two classmates awake from deep sleep.
They bolted upright in terror, only to realize that someone was quite literally demolishing the dorm building.
Gojo—what the hell is wrong with you?!?!
Author's Note:
Zen'in Toji's first wife—name unknown—gave birth to Zen'in Megumi and is now deceased.
Zen'in Toji's second wife bore the family name "Fushiguro." Before marriage, she had a daughter named Fushiguro Tsumiki. In the original work, she abandoned her daughter and left in the future.
After marrying into his second wife's family, Zen'in Toji changed his name to Fushiguro Toji, and his son was renamed Fushiguro Megumi.