Bright midday sun bathed the rooftop of Jujutsu High in white-hot light.
Satoru Gojo flopped onto the concrete, lounging against the low parapet, while Suguru Geto leaned against the chain-link fence with his arms folded. Satoru let out a long, theatrical yawn.
"Another cursed spirit exorcised, another demonstration of my unrivaled awesomeness," he droned. "Kinda boring, huh?"
"You say boring, I say peaceful," Suguru countered, his tone dry. "Some of us actually appreciate a quiet campus, Satoru."
Gojo tilted his head back, his sunglasses sliding down his nose.
"Peaceful? We just leveled half a warehouse. You're welcome, by the way."
Suguru shot him a mock glower.
"I handled the entire swarm while you chased the 'shiny' one. Typical."
Gojo shrugged, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.
"Flashy curses match my vibe. Besides, you lovecleaning up after me—admit it."
A chuckle escaped Suguru.
"Hardly. I'm just saving the school's repair budget from your ego."
The wind rattled the fence, and for a moment, the rooftop fell quiet. Satoru peered up from behind his dark lenses, his expression uncharacteristically contemplative.
"Ever think about life after Jujutsu High? We'll be even more unstoppable than we are now. We might just have to make a 'super-special' grade class just for us."
"Power isn't the point," Suguru said, his eyes following a group of first-years in the courtyard below. "It's how we use it."
"Yeah, yeah—protect the weak, maintain balance. Blah, blah. Still gonna be fun, though."
Suguru's gaze lingered on the younger students.
"Fun for you, maybe. I'm more interested in ending the cycle altogether."
Gojo grinned, leaning back on his elbows.
"Deep thoughts for a teenager. Smile more, Suguru—it ups your cool factor by at least twenty-five percent."
"Is that a scientific fact?"
"Gojo fact. The strongest fact there is."
Suguru's competitive spark finally lit. He straightened up, raising an index finger.
"Fine. Training bout tomorrow. If you beat me without using that damn Infinity, dinner's on me."
"Deal. And when I win, we're hitting that pricey curry place."
"Confident, aren't you?"
"Always. Being a genius is such a burden,"
Gojo sighed theatrically. He stretched his lanky limbs and trotted toward the stairwell.
"Remember—no Infinity!"
Suguru called out after him.
"Yeah, yeah, because it's 'cheating.' Still gonna wipe the floor with you!"
"We'll see."
The heavy door slammed shut behind them.
Then, the world cracked.
Light bled away into a suffocating grey. Cold seeped into Satoru's bones as everything dulled—the sound of the wind, the heat of the sun, the very presence of his friend. A voice, unfamiliar yet vibrating with a chill that bypassed his Infinity, echoed through the void.
"Save him."
Satoru jolted awake in the carriage. A faint redness rimmed his eyes before his sunglasses slid back into place. He stared at the wooden ceiling, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Damn it…
He exhaled shakily, the phantom warmth of the Jujutsu High rooftop still clinging to his skin.
"Suguru… hope you're doing okay without me."
Gojo leaned forward, raking a hand through his snow-white hair before turning to watch the blurred trunks and emerald leaves slip past the window.
I've tried not to fixate on it, but… there has to be a way back to Earth. Whoever—or whatever—yanked me into this world had the juice to move me across dimensions. That means a return trip should be possible.
He slumped back into the plush seat, eyes tracing the grain of the carriage ceiling.
"But how…?"
Suddenly, a ripple of mana—faint, scattered, and discordant—skimmed the edge of his Six Eyes.
Unfamiliar signatures. Dozens of them.
Gojo sat up, a slow, dangerous grin creeping across his face.
"Bandits, huh? Talk about unlucky."
He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp in the quiet cabin.
"They've chosen the single worst carriage on the planet to hit."
Outside, both the ground dragon and the driver remained oblivious. Hidden shapes flitted between the trees, unsheathing rust-flecked swords and axes in preparation for the ambush. Gojo tapped the window frame, casual as ever, his earlier melancholy vanishing beneath the thrill of an upcoming "lesson."
"Guess I was getting bored anyway."
With that, he reached for the door handle—ready to greet his would-be assailants with the shortest, most humiliating lecture of their lives.
——————————————
"Roswaal-sama has informed me of a guest arriving from the Astrea Estate. Try not to do anything stupid, Barusu."
Ram's voice remained characteristically flat, her tone not wavering in the slightest as she meticulously dusted a nearby table. Subaru recoiled dramatically, clutching his chest as if she had just driven a physical stake through his heart.
"A guest from the Astrea Estate?! Wait—don't tell me Reinhard is coming here?"
He leaned forward, his brow furrowing in a mix of excitement and anxiety.
"And what do you mean, 'don't be stu—'"
"No."
Ram cut him off, not bothering to spare him a glance.
"The Sword Saint personally informed Roswaal-sama about the guest, not that he was the guest. He merely mentioned that we should treat this individual with the same level of respect as Emilia-sama."
Subaru blinked, his posture straightening slowly as the weight of those words sank in.
"Same level as Emilia-tan? That's... kind of a big deal, isn't it?"
Ram offered nothing more than a noncommittal shrug.
Seeing an opportunity to play the hero, Subaru puffed out his chest and struck a confident pose, pointing a thumb at himself.
"Well, you don't have to worry about me! I'll show this mystery guest what it really means to be a top-tier Roswaal butler!"
Ram slowly lowered her dusting rag, her expression as unmoving as stone.
"The standards of this mansion have truly collapsed."
"Eh?!"
Subaru's arm dropped, his confident smirk twitching.
"You didn't even wait a second to roast me! At least let the punchline breathe!"
Ram straightened her apron, her arms dropping neatly to her sides as she finally turned her sharp gaze toward the boy.
"Regardless of your incompetence, you will be greeting the guest alongside my sister and me. Do try to keep your mouth shut until you are spoken to."
———————————————
Later, at the Roswaal Manor entrance...
The low rumble of carriage wheels echoed across the cobblestone path, a steady, rhythmic sound that slowed to a stop just outside the grand estate. Inside the entry hall, Subaru adjusted his cuffs, his gaze fixed on the towering double doors.
I wonder who this guest is...
He couldn't help the nervous twitch in his fingers. It had to be someone of massive importance if even the "ideal knight" Reinhard had gone out of his way to personally notify Roswaal of their arrival.
The entrance was as lavish as ever—ornate golden chandeliers swayed gently overhead, casting intricate, flickering patterns across the polished marble floors. Two ivory-white pillars rose toward the vaulted ceiling, framing the hall like a scene from a royal portrait. Subaru shifted his stance, trying to look the part of a professional butler, though his tracksuit-era instincts were screaming at him to just slouch.
On either side of him, Ram and Rem took their positions. Their faces were masks of perfect, doll-like composure, their presence grounding the room in a heavy, formal silence.
Without a word, the twin maids moved in flawless synchrony, their hands gripping the heavy iron handles. They pushed.
The towering wooden doors swung open, and a flood of midday sunlight poured into the hall, far brighter and more blinding than the soft glow of the stained-glass windows.
And through that brilliant white light, a tall, lean silhouette slowly stepped forward.
——————————————
Satoru's POV
Satoru stepped through the doorway, letting out a low, appreciative whistle as his eyes roamed the lavish interior of the Roswaal estate.
Damn... this Roswaal guy's loaded.
The golden light streaming through stained glass danced across the polished floors, reflecting off intricate woodwork and chandelier crystals with a regal flair.
Then, movement. Two maids stood side by side, heads bowed, their synchronized voices calm and formal.
"Welcome, esteemed guest."
Pink and blue hair. Identical uniforms.
Huh. Twin maids.
Guess my gorgeous white hair's not so rare around here after all... not that that makes me any less of a showstopper.
"——Yo."
But his attention quickly drifted—not to the surroundings, nor the maids—but to the figure standing just behind them.
"Nice place," Satoru hummed, his gaze lingering on the twin maids. "Matching sets again? Is there a factory for these in the basement or something?"
Subaru's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
"No way... You?! You're the guest?!"
A black-haired boy in a sharp, black butler's uniform. Awkward posture, wide eyes from recognizing him, And—
"Ah..."
Satoru's smirk widened slightly behind the shadow of his sunglasses.
There it is. That cursed energy... Overflowing, raw, and completely untamed. Hell, he's got more of it than I do—not that it means anything to me. I cant exactly run out.
Ram stepped forward, her expression a mask of chilly professionalism.
"Welcome to the Roswaal Manor. I am Ram, and this is my sister, Rem. We have been expecting you, Gojo-sama."
Rem bowed deeply, her voice soft but steady. "We are honored by your visit. May we take your—"
"I'm good," Satoru interrupted, waving a hand dismissively.
He bypassed the maids entirely and walked straight up to Subaru, who was still frozen in a state of terminal shock. Satoru leaned down slightly, peering over the rim of his glasses with a single, piercing blue eye.
"Nice outfit, Subaru. The 'humble servant' huh? The look really highlights how much you've been slacking off."
"S-Slacking off?!"
Subaru finally snapped out of it, pointing a finger at Satoru's chest.
"I'll have you know I've been working my butt off! And wait—since when are you a 'Gojo-sama'?! Reinhard sent a letter saying to treat you like royalty!"
Satoru straightened up, a sharp-toothed grin spreading across his face.
"I guess I just have that 'King' energy, right? Don't be jealous. It's a burden, really."
He turned back to the maids, his hands returning to his pockets.
"So, where's the clown in charge? And more importantly, do you guys have anything with high sugar content? I had to deal with some trash on the road, and my brain needs a jumpstart."
Ram's brow twitched at the mention of her master as a 'clown,' but she kept her composure.
"Roswaal-sama is awaiting you in the study. As for refreshments, Rem will—"
"I'll get right on it."
Rem interjected, sensing the guest's peculiar intensity.
"Great! Lead the way, dude!"
Satoru chirped, slapping a hand onto Subaru's shoulder.
Subaru felt a brief, heavy weight—not of physical mass, but of an overwhelming presence that made the air in the hall feel thick.
"I'm a butler now! Call me by my name!" Subaru complained, though he didn't pull away.
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say~"
He didn't wait for an invitation. He strolled past the stunned Subaru and the wary twin maids as if he were the one who owned the deed to the place.
"So, where's the lounge? I've been sitting in a carriage for hours, and my blood sugar is reaching dangerously low levels. Not a good look for a King-to-be, right?"
Ram and Rem exchanged a brief, sharp glance. Despite his infuriatingly casual attitude, the pressure radiating from the boy was undeniable—it was a heavy, stagnant weight in the air that made their instincts scream danger.
"This way, Gojo-sama…"
Rem said, her voice soft but strained. She led the group into a lavishly decorated parlor, where sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a table already set for tea.
Satoru flopped onto a velvet sofa, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles. Subaru lingered by the door, still half-convinced this was some fever dream brought on by excessive floor-scrubbing.
"Sit down, Subaru! You're making the room feel stiff!"
Gojo chirped, patting the cushion next to him.
"I'm a butler! I have to stand!"
Subaru hissed, though he looked like he was about to buckle under the sheer awkwardness of the situation.
Rem stepped forward, her movements graceful as she poured a stream of steaming, fragrant tea into a delicate porcelain cup. She placed it before Satoru, alongside a plate of meticulously crafted tea cakes.
"Please, enjoy. It is a special blend favored by Roswaal-sama."
Satoru picked up a tea cake, inspected it for a second like it was made of gold, and popped the whole thing into his mouth. The room went silent as he chewed. He swallowed, then leaned back with a flat, unimpressed expression.
"Two out of ten!" Satoru announced.
Ram's eyes narrowed to slits.
"——I beg your pardon?"
"The texture? Fine. The presentation? Cute,"
Satoru said, waving a hand dismissively.
"But where's the soul? It's like eating a cloud made of cardboard. It needs sugar. Lots of it. And maybe some chocolate? Do you guys have chocolate in this place?"
"That's a good question… do we?!"
Subaru whispered-yelled, stepping forward.
"Relax, Subaru, relaaax~"
Gojo teased, leaning over to peer at the tea. He didn't even pick up the cup. Instead, he simply tapped the rim with his index finger. A tiny ripple of blue energy flickered, and suddenly, the liquid began to swirl violently on its own.
"And the tea? It's lukewarm. Here, let me fix it."
Before the maids could protest, the tea began to steam—not just hot, but vibrating. Satoru reached into a nearby sugar bowl, grabbed the entire silver spoon, and dumped five—no, six—heaping mounds into the tiny cup until it was practically a syrup.
"There. Efficiency," he grinned, taking a loud, obnoxious slurp. "Mmm. Now that's a drink befiffing Satoru-freaking-Gojo! You girls should take notes."
Ram stepped forward, her voice icy enough to frost the windows.
"Gojo-sama, if our hospitality is so... distasteful to you, perhaps you would prefer to discuss this with the master of the house immediately?"
——————————————
Eventually, they arrived at a set of towering double doors that groaned with a heavy, expensive weight as they swung open. Inside was a dining hall that looked more like a museum than anything else.
A long, mahogany table stretched across the space, lined with high-backed chairs and glinting silverware.
At the far end of the table sat a figure who looked like he had wandered out of a high-budget, very disturbed circus. He sat with a strange, calculated stillness, clad in a flamboyant outfit of mismatched purples and yellows. His face was a mask of stark white makeup, accented by a single, unnaturally long streak of blue eyeshadow that gave him a permanently lopsided, eccentric gaze.
Is that... a clown?
Satoru's head tilted so far to the side he was practically horizontal.
No way. Did they seriously hire a professional jester just to entertain me while I eat? Now that's what I call hospitality. This world is finally starting to understand my brand!
Before the thought could spiral into a full-blown critique of the "clown's" aesthetic, Rem stepped forward, her posture stiffening into a formal bow.
"Our esteemed guest has arrived, Roswaal-sama."
Satoru's grin faltered for exactly half a second as the reality set in.
Ah. So this is Roswaal... wait, he really IS the Margrave? The guy in charge of the whole territory is a literal clown?
He let out a sharp, silent breath, his shoulders shaking with the effort of not cackling. Good thing I didn't say that out loud. That would've been awkward. Though seriously—who looks in a mirror, sees a circus performer staring back, and thinks, 'Yep, this is the face of a political powerhouse'?
The man at the end of the table stood, his movements fluid and exaggerated.
He spread his arms wide, his mismatched eyes—one yellow, one blue—scanning Satoru with a predatory curiosity that set the Six Eyes humming with a warning.
"Aaaaahh... Greeeetings, Gojo-sama. Or would you perhaps prefeeer... Saaaatoooru-sama?"
The way he spoke unsettled Gojo just a tad, it felt completely fake.
Satoru didn't miss a beat. He sauntered down the length of the table and pulled out a chair.
He flopped into it, leaning back with his hands behind his head.
"Satoru's fine, Mr. Makeup~"
Gojo chirped, flashing a row of perfectly white teeth.
"Though I gotta say, you really lean into the aesthetic. I was expecting a boring old nobleman, but you're a real riot! Does the eyeshadow help with the magic, or is it just to distract people from how weird your voice is?"
The room went deathly silent. Subaru, standing by the door, looked like he wanted to dissolve into the floorboards.
Roswaal's smile didn't break; it merely widened, stretching the white makeup across his cheeks until it looked like it might crack.
"Oooooh? How very... blunt you aaaaare. I suppose when one possesses such... unmeasureable power, manners are merely an option, are they nooooot?"
"Exactly! See? We're on the same page already," Satoru laughed, though his gaze remained sharp behind his shades.
"Now, since we're being friends—where's the dessert? I heard you were rich, so I'm expecting something better than those 'cardboard' cakes I had in the parlor."
"You really are arrogant as hell, huh…"
Subaru muttered.
The scene remained as awkward as it was tense, at least, until another familiar face entered.
Long silver hair. White and purple outfit. That girl from before. As soon as she arrived, the blue-haired maid stepped aside.
"Oh! It's you!"
Emilia blurted out, the words escaping before she could catch them. Her eyes widened, and a faint dusting of pink touched her cheeks as she realized how un-princess-like that sounded. She quickly composed herself and took her seat.
Satoru's trademark smirk didn't budge.
"Yup. Satoru Gojo, in the flesh. Long time no see, Emilia-tan."
Subaru, seated next to her, leaned forward, his brows knitting as his brain finally caught up to the honorifics being tossed around.
"Wait, why is everyone calling him 'Sama' anyway? I was curious before but did I miss a patch note?"
Roswaal answered with a playful, drawn-out lilt that made the hair on Subaru's neck stand up.
"Why yeeeees... Subaru... It is oooonly natural to give respeeect to someone of higher claaaaaass... is it nooooot?"
Subaru's eyes narrowed. His tone shifted, becoming weirdly serious as he looked at Satoru's smug face.
"This has totally happened before..."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"Alright, lemme guess... Is he like Emilia-tan?! Another Royal Candidate?"
"That I am~"
Satoru answered casually, leaning back and popping a grape into his mouth.
Roswaal chimed in again, his smile never quite reaching his mismatched eyes.
"Yeeeees… He is the fifth and fiiiiinal candidate for the throne…"
Satoru watched the "clown" with quiet, surgical scrutiny.
I'm probably being paranoid... but this guy gives me serious bad vibes. It's like that feeling when you know you've pissed off Principal Yaga and he's about to jump you from the shadows with a look that would exorcise a Special Grade Curse on sight.
He let out a quiet breath, refocusing as Rem returned, gliding across the floor to place plates before everyone sitting.
"Not thaaaat I mind in the sliiiiighest, Satoru-sama… but is there a particular reaaaason you've graced my estate todaaaay? Surely the Sword Saint's house has better tea."
Satoru sat upright, his grin turning predatory. He pointed the prongs of his fork directly at Subaru.
"There is. And he's sitting riiight there."
Subaru blinked, nearly choking on his water.
"W–Wait... me? For what?! I didn't steal anything today, I swear!"
Emilia leaned forward, her brows furrowed protectively.
"I-I'm not exactly willing to give Subaru away to a rival camp, Gojo-san..."
Satoru let out a light chuckle, waving his fork dismissively.
"Relax, I'm not asking for him to switch teams. It's just... he's got something in him. Something seriously interesting. Like... 'once-in-a-thousand-years' interesting."
Subaru's confusion lasted for about three seconds before his ego took the wheel. His face lit up, and he leaned back with a cocky, toothy smirk.
"Heh... you hear that, guys? I am special! This guy recognizes me!"
"That only makes sense for Rem's hero." The blue-haired maid spoke with pride.
"Our esteemed guest's eyes may be failing him," Ram sighed audibly from the corner.
Roswaal's eyes gleamed.
"Is thaaaaaaaat so... and what might this... entail?"
"Simple. He gets stronger. A lot stronger,"
Satoru said, the playfulness in his voice replaced by a cold, flat certainty.
"I know what you're thinking—why help a rival? The answer is: I don't care about the throne. That whole candidate thing? It's just something I got thrown into. Whatever that crusty old dragon saw in me, cool. But I didn't ask for it."
He leaned forward, his index finger tapping the table.
"But that guy? He's got something inside him that can make him something badass."
Subaru looked stunned, his hand rising to his chest.
"You're saying I have... battle-anime protagonist potential? Like, real power?"
"If you're willing to bleed for it, at least."
Gojo nodded.
"Since you aren't me, it'll be tough. No 'friendship power-ups.' But if you handle it, you won't just be a butler. You'll be someone who can actually protect what matters to you."
Subaru's grin turned fierce.
"You're on, Satoru-sensei!"
"Subaru..."
Emilia whispered, worried.
Satoru raised a hand.
"I'm not gonna kill him. Probably."
He turned back to the Margrave.
"Shall I take that as your permission, Roswaal?"
Roswaal dabbed his mouth with a napkin, his smile widening into something unsettling.
"Whyyyy... yeeeees, of course. If training Subaru enhances Emilia-sama's chaaaances... then by all means, do proceed."
"Wait, seriously? No blood contract?"
Subaru asked, surprised.
"I'm not a vampire, kid."
Satoru stood up abruptly, clapping his hands together.
"Food was nice, but I'm bored of sitting. Subaru—training starts now."
"——Wait… kid? Aren't you younger than me?"
"Pff… technicalities~"
Without giving the boy a second to process, Gojo blurred around the table and dropped a heavy, firm hand onto Subaru's shoulder.
———————————————
the Garden.
In a blink—no wind-up, no warning—the two were gone. The space around them twisted, colors smeared, and reality reassembled in a blink. They now stood out in a wide, open field behind the Roswaal estate—lined with trimmed hedges and elegant flower beds, a far cry from the chaos that had just taken place inside Subaru's head.
"HUH?! What the hell?! How did we get out here?!"
Gojo grinned down at him, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Just a lil' trick of mine. Don't worry about it." His tone shifted slightly—still airy and casual, but with an unmistakable undercurrent of gravity. "But this isn't about me or what I can do."
He took a step closer, lowering his sunglasses just enough for those terrifyingly vivid blue eyes to lock onto Subaru's.
"Subaru Natsuki. You're from Earth, right? Japan——judging by the name?"
Subaru froze, caught off guard by the precision of the question.
"Y-Yeah… I am. Wait, are you—?"
Gojo nodded with a confident flick of his chin.
Subaru stared in disbelief, his brain short-circuiting.
"Eh…?! Then why are you already, like—totally badass?! Did youget gifted an Excalibur or something? Because I've been waiting for that kind of starter-pack treatment!"
Gojo let out a laugh.
"Hah! Nah, nothing like that. I've had these powers since back home."
He pointed to himself with a thumb, flashing a cocky grin.
"Which brings us to today's first lesson: Cursed Energy!"
Subaru tilted his head, blinking.
"…Cursed what now?"
Gojo clapped his hands once, suddenly energized like a substitute teacher who had just hijacked the chalkboard.
"Cursed Energy, Natsuki Subaru, is power born from negative emotions—fear, hatred, anger, sadness. All that nasty human baggage leaks into the world and creates Cursed Spirits. Monsters, basically."
He raised a finger.
"That's where people like us come in. Jujutsu Sorcerers. We exorcise those spirits using Cursed Energy as our battery."
"So forget about mana, MP, and all that fantasy RPG stuff. Cursed Energy is way more metal."
Subaru blinked again, his mouth hanging half-open.
"...That's… actually kinda hardcore."
Gojo leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"And here's the kicker—you've got a ton of it. More than me, actually. Just sitting there. Wasted. Like a nuke with no launch codes… or a high-end console with no power cable I guess."
Subaru recoiled, his hand flying to his chest.
"Wait, I have Cursed Energy?"
Gojo nodded.
"More than anyone I've ever seen. Way more. Now you see why I'm interested, yeah?"
He flicked Subaru on the forehead playfully.
Subaru's brows furrowed, memories clicking into place like falling dominoes.
"Cursed Spirits… Wait—so you're telling me I'm notinsane?!"
He pointed to himself, eyes wide with a mix of relief and horror.
"I always thought I was crazy when I was a kid… y'know, with those creepy things floating and crawling around in the corners of my room!"
Gojo chuckled.
"Yeah, that's pretty much the textbook way we find out someone's a sorcerer. 'Hey, can you see that freaky monster thing that nobody else can?' Boom. Welcome to the club."
Subaru suddenly lit up, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"So does this mean I'll be able to, like——shoot out Kamehamehas?! Or Getsuga Tenshos?! Janken Rock?!"
Gojo's smirk faltered slightly, looking almost apologetic.
"Oh, uh... yeah, no. Sorry to crush the anime dreams, but it doesn't really work like that."
He rubbed the back of his head.
"You don't seem to have a Cursed Technique. If you did, it'd feel like an extra limb—instinctual. You'd already be using it without even thinking."
Subaru looked devastated. He slumped, his eyes shimmering with the weight of another failed fantasy trope.
Gojo quickly raised a hand.
"Whoa there, don't go crying on me yet—save that for after the training starts."
His smile returned, now carrying a sharper edge.
"You don't even realize how blessed you are, huh? You're looking at me, Satoru Gojo, the pinnacle of Jujutsu Sorcery—the strongest alive."
He pointed a finger at Subaru's chest.
"And you? You've got more raw energy than I do."
He paused, his glasses glinting.
"...Granted, you'd still run out like a billion years before I ever would because my efficiency is literally freaking perfect, but still. Raw stats? You're a damn monster."
Subaru's expression shifted. His gaze sharpened, turning bitter and incredulous.
"You've just got it all, don't you? Looks, height, cheat-code powers..."
He looked away, a small, frustrated huff escaping his lips.
"The world really isn't fair."
Gojo smirked, shoving his hands back into his pockets.
"Nope. But look on the bright side: you can gladly go around telling people you're the 'second strongest sorcerer' in the entire world."
He gave a playful wink, his arrogance so absolute it was almost charming.
"Great!"
Subaru pumped a fist—then paused, his expression going flat.
"…But there's only two of us here, right?"
Satoru tilted his head, pretending to ponder the question deeply.
"Mmm… Technicalities."
Subaru groaned.
"So I'm the strongest loser. Got it…"
"Mmm, get used to that, I am me after all."
Gojo clapped his hands once, the sound echoing sharply across the field like a gunshot.
"Alright! Enough talk."
He took a few steps back and grinned.
"Let's begin."