"They don't dare to provoke me, so they target those close to me. A warning, I suppose. Good thing I prepared those talismans for them in advance."
Nanami's and Haibara's recent brush with danger was no accident; it was a deliberate plot by the Jujutsu higher-ups. The perpetrators had been discreet, however, and even Kamo Itsuki couldn't pinpoint the specific family responsible. A conspiracy hatched before I became a Special Grade, he mused internally. Now that I've displayed strength beyond that title, these petty tricks should cease.
As Nanami and Haibara departed, a familiar quiet settled back into his room. It was a peace that, like most things in Jujutsu High, was fragile.
A few days later, a knock interrupted his study of Barrier Techniques. At the door stood Geto Suguru, a gentle, teasing smile on his face.
"Itsuki. I have a mission tomorrow in a remote mountain village," Geto said. "Since you're famously fond of people bringing back local specialties, I thought I'd ask if you wanted anything in particular. A souvenir, perhaps?"
Kamo Itsuki couldn't help but laugh. "Why ask me specifically? That rumor has gotten completely out of hand." His smile was one of genuine, if weary, amusement.
"You haven't heard? It's the talk of the school. They say you have a peculiar hobby: collecting trinkets and treats from every corner of Japan." Geto's smile brightened, clearly delighted by the gossip.
Shaking his head, a faint smirk played on Itsuki's lips. "Don't let me find out who started it, or I'll have a very pointed 'chat' with them," he said, feigning severity.
At that exact moment, in a dank, abandoned factory on the outskirts of Tokyo, Gojo Satoru sneezed violently. His cursed energy flickered, interrupting the technique he was about to unleash on a Cursed Spirit that resembled a rat tainted by nuclear waste. The creature seized the opening, lunging for his throat with jagged incisors.
It slammed against Infinity, its teeth halting mere centimeters from his skin.
"Damn it," Gojo muttered, rubbing his nose. "Who's cursing me?" With an idle gesture, he twisted the cursed spirit into a spiraled knot of flesh and regret.
"Just bring back whatever you like," Kamo Itsuki said, turning from his window back to Geto. "Consider it a memento of the mission."
He paused, his tone softening. "I ask Nanami and Haibara to bring things back to give them one more reason to survive—to not carelessly throw their lives away. Their senior is waiting for their return gift, after all."
A quiet warmth bloomed in Geto's chest at the explanation. "I see," he said, his voice unusually soft. "You're truly gentle, Itsuki."
He hadn't imagined that a simple request for souvenirs carried such weight. In that moment, he decided this was a tradition worth cultivating.
And so, a new, unspoken rule quietly took root at Jujutsu High: upon returning from a mission, you brought back a local specialty for your friends. It was more than a gift; it was a silent covenant. Remember to bring me something meant you must come back alive. And I'll bring you something became a promise: I will return.
It spread through the dorms and classrooms, a unique thread of connection weaving between the hearts of every sorcerer—a simple, steadfast reminder of what they fought to protect.
They knew that no matter the distance or the danger, someone was waiting—anticipating not just a trinket or a treat, but their safe return.
"I'll remember to bring you something. I'm off now," Geto said, his tone light. He turned to leave, his long bangs swaying with the movement.
"Wait," Kamo Itsuki called out, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Where exactly is your mission?"
"A remote village in the mountains of Hakone Prefecture. Just outside Tokyo." Geto paused, slightly surprised by the question. "Why?"
"The Barrier Technique I'm developing needs to account for all of Japan—not just cities, but isolated areas too." A slight smile touched Itsuki's lips. "I was planning a field survey. Since you're going there, I'll join you."
Beneath the casual explanation lay a deeper vigilance. In the shadow of the world he remembered, this mission had been the turning point—the catalyst for Geto Suguru's descent into darkness. Now, Geto had overcome the visceral horror of consuming Cursed Spirits. He hadn't suffered the successive blows of Toji Fushiguro or Haibara Yu's deaths. Under Itsuki's subtle influence, his spirit had grown more resilient, his resolve more steady.
Yet, a sliver of unease remained. Change was not immunity. Even a tempered Geto, faced with certain horrors, might still be pushed toward an extreme—and there were always those waiting to exploit such fractures.
Besides, he hadn't lied. Theory, isolated in a room, could blind you. To weave a barrier around a nation, you had to understand its bones, its remote and whispering places.
"Let me brief you," Geto said as they traveled. Perched elegantly atop his flying Cursed Spirit, he outlined the mission. "We need to locate and exorcise the spirit responsible for the villagers' disappearances and strange deaths."
Beside him, Kamo Itsuki flew on vast wings woven from his own blood—a dark, graceful counterpart to Geto's summoned creature. The landscape below began to fold into dense, shadowed valleys.
"Cursed Spirits in places like these…" Itsuki mused, his voice almost lost to the wind. "They're often born from fear rooted in isolation and ignorance—phenomena that can't be explained, so they're feared absolutely."
His eyes grew contemplative, and a quiet dread settled in his chest. This would be an unpleasant journey. It wasn't just Geto who would be tested.
Knowing what was coming from the pages of a story was one thing. Bearing witness to it with your own eyes was something else entirely.
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