Satoru Gojo sat alone in the dim guest room, the words of Yorna Mishigure echoing endlessly in the silence.
His eyes remained fixed on the grain of the wooden sliding door, but he wasn't seeing it.
"..."
There was something inexplicable about her confidence. She knew the risks. She knew that ruination was the most likely outcome. Yet, she could still smile.
How? For what reason?
Most people would crumble in despair. Most people would run from a burden that heavy, knowing the insanity that it was. But she didn't.
It wasn't that Gojo hated weaklings. In fact, ever since losing Suguru, he had tried to be more accepting of those vastly less than himself. But the problem wasn't his view of the weak—it was his view of himself.
For the first time in his life, he had lost.
And it wasn't a close fight. He had been outplayed, overwhelmed and one-sidedly beaten by a curse user wearing the face of his best friend.
So, how could he laugh? How could he maintain that air of untouchable superiority when he wasn't the strongest anymore? Hell, was he ever the strongest with that monster roaming around? It didn't make sense. Those who are merely "powerful" but not "absolute" have no right to act as gods.
Yorna Mishigure didn't vex him as a person. She vexed him because looking at her—at her ideology, her radiance, her impossible goal—was like staring a ghost in the eyes.
"The strong exist to protect the weak."
It made him feel anger.
It made him feel sadness.
It made him feel weakness.
These were the emotions he despised above all else. They made him feel human in the worst way possible.
It wasn't that he was against the idea of someone matching him. Suguru Geto had been his equal once. But Suguru was more than a rival. He was his best friend. He was his moral compass. The one who gave "The Strongest" a reason to exist.
Could Yorna be the same?
The thought struck him like a physical blow, followed immediately by a wave of nausea.
Fear.
Hatred.
Fear that it was possible. Hatred that he had even considered it in the first place.
There should be no replacing Suguru. That thought shouldn't even exist. Yet, for a fleeting moment, Yorna's conviction had overlapped with Suguru's memory so perfectly that it blurred the lines between the past and the present.
"...Isn't that just the most pathetic thing in the world?"
Gojo muttered under his breath, letting gravity take him. He flopped onto his back against the tatami mats, staring up at the ceiling with a blank, hollow expression that didn't belong on Satoru Gojo's face.
"...What do I do now?"
In this strange world, stripped of his past, trapped in a child's body... what did he have left?
"...What is the point?"
He hated thinking like this. The mere act of doubting himself made him feel like a monster.
"------"
The sliding door opened.
The sound was soft, but to the Six Eyes, it was as loud as a gunshot. He didn't need to look to know who it was. The flow of mana was small, disciplined, and familiar.
"Are you alright?"
Gojo didn't move. He just shifted his eyes to see the deer-girl standing over him. Tanza looked down with her usual stoic expression, her kimono perfectly arranged. Her tone hadn't changed, but the fact that she was here at all betrayed a level of concern that didn't fit their short acquaintance.
Why did she care? She didn't know him in the slightest.
"Heh~ just dandy! Thanks for asking." Gojo forced a grin onto his face, sitting up in one fluid motion to look back at her. "But why are you here, Tanza-chan? I would've expected Meili to come annoy me, not you."
Tanza's brow twitched, a microscopic reaction to his deflection, something she somehow saw.
"I volunteered before she could," she stated simply.
Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Hah? Why the heck would you do something like that? It's not like we're buddies. You should just see me as some arrogant, annoying brat. That's what I am, right?"
His response was fast—too fast. It was a defensive reflex, a barrier of thorns designed to keep people out. But Tanza stepped right through it.
"—I do not see you like that. And neither do Yorna-sama or Meili-sama, for that matter."
Tanza stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She didn't sit. She stood her ground, her purple eyes piercing through his facade like a blade.
"You're weird," Gojo deflected, turning his head away. "Seriously, what's your deal—"
"I see you the way I used to see myself."
Her words cut him off, sharp and precise.
"Though you are correct, I do not know you at all, Gojo-sama. But I don't believe I am incorrect in that matter, it is not difficult to see that you are enduring something that is hurting you."
Gojo's lips pursed. He fell silent, the playful mask slipping just an inch.
It took several long seconds for him to respond.
"I'm fine, you know~" His voice was cheerful, sickeningly so. "You're just digging for drama where there isn't an—"
"Then why do you smile like that?" Tanza interrupted again, her voice devoid of judgment but heavy with truth.
"Why do you pretend to be happy when you are clearly suffering alone?"
Gojo's body seized. His cursed energy flared for a split second, the air in the room vibrating with sudden pressure, his cerulean pupils contracting beneath the torrent of emotions that threatened to crash down like a tidal wave.
"You're just a brat, damn it..."
His voice dropped an octave, losing all traces of childishness. It was cold. Dangerous.
"So stop it. It's not something you'd understand."
Tanza didn't flinch, despite the intensity of it all. Nor did she try to retreat. She merely stared at the strongest sorcerer of Earth—currently reduced to a child throwing a tantrum—and didn't blink.
"Then tell me. I am a curious child, after all. It is poisonous to bottle up emotions like that. It leads to ruin."
Why does she talk like that?
Gojo thought, frustration bubbling in his chest.
Like she's lived through a hundred years of hell?
She couldn't understand. She was just a kid in a damn kimono. She didn't know the weight of the world. She didn't know what it was like to know that your one and only best friend is dead, because of you and you alone.
But still...
"I..."
He paused. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
He needed someone. Anyone. It didn't matter if it was a stranger, or a damn child that wouldn't understand a word of what he was going through. He simply needed to say it out loud, just to prove it was real. To keep himself from going insane. They didn't even need to care.
"I lost someone close to me. Alright?"
He didn't look at her. He looked at his hands—small, weak hands that didn't feel like his own.
"I don't want to piss people off. I don't want to bother them by being moody and depressing. So I smile. I act like nothing happened. I don't want you to be infected by my shitty mood, so just leave me alone already."
Tanza watched him. She saw the trembling in his shoulders that he was trying so hard to hide.
She shook her head slowly.
"I see."
Gojo snapped.
"—What?" He whipped his head around, his blue eyes blazing with genuine anger. "What do you mean, 'I see'? What do you see? My pathetically weak-self? My failure? Are you just here to laugh, to be ignorant like a damn kid should be? Well feel free, go ahead! Laugh!"
His voice rose with every rhetorical question, the humiliation of his child-like form making the outburst feel even more pathetic to him.
Tanza waited for him to finish. She waited for the echo of his shouting to fade.
Then, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper, yet it filled the room.
"—I, too, lost someone very close to me, you see."
Why are you...
"—My older sister. Her name was Zoey. We traveled across Vollachia together, just the two of us, before... before the world took her from me."
Why are you telling me this?
"It left a hole in my heart that I thought would never heal. Like you, I suppressed it. I hid my pain from Yorna-sama, from everyone. Until eventually, I couldn't contain it anymore. I broke. And Yorna-sama was there to put me back together. That is why I am here now."
Was she seeking pity? No.
Was she trying to make him feel guilty? No.
So why?
He hated it.
The one thing he could never master, no matter how much cursed energy he possessed, or how much talent he might've had. Human emotion. It couldn't be solved with brute strength. It couldn't be analyzed with the Six Eyes.
There was no logic to it.
People cried over spilled milk, yet stayed dry-eyed through tragedies. It was nonsensical chaos in the human mind.
"...Suguru."
The name slipped out before he could stop it. Tanza didn't interrupt.
"His name was Suguru. He was my best friend. The only one who truly understood what it meant to be me."
Gojo stared at his small hands, clenching them into fists.
"He believed in that same law Yorna talks about. 'Protect the weak.' And you know what? It broke him. It got him killed in the end. I don't know what to do anymore. What kind of... what kind of life is that? Isn't it just the worst? Isn't it totally pathetic?"
His voice cracked, the desperation leaking through the cracks in his armor.
"I don't even feel like I have a reason to be here anymore! Like, seriously—I'm projecting to a damn kid! Isn't that—isn't that just the most ridiculous thing you've ever—"
Gojo froze.
His breath hitched in his throat. His entire body seized up as a new sensation washed over him.
A hand.
There was a small, warm hand on his head.
Tanza was patting him. Softly, rhythmically ruffling his fluffy white hair.
The Six Eyes caught the faint smile on her face. It wasn't mocking. It wasn't pity. It was just... understanding.
Despite his earlier revulsion at the idea, despite his pride screaming at him to slap her hand away—he didn't move. He remained frozen, slowly lowering his head until his chin touched his chest.
"Sometimes..." Tanza said softly, "Children understand things better than adults. People claim maturity comes with age, yet those same adults crumble over the smallest inconveniences."
Gojo didn't respond. He couldn't.
"..."
This childish body is the worst. I hate it. I seriously hate it.
He wasn't sure if he hated it because of the indignity of being patted like a pet, or because of the burning sensation behind his eyes.
He didn't cry. Satoru Gojo didn't cry. He hadn't cried—
"There, there. It is okay, Gojo-san."
She dropped the honorific. It was a small change, but it felt massive.
"—I feel like... I was the one who killed him, you know?" Gojo whispered, the words tumbling out like blood from a wound. "Because I wasn't there when he needed me. I was the strongest, but I couldn't save him from himself. Isn't that just the worst joke? We were supposed to be the strongest duo. But I left him behind."
He sniffed, a wet, ugly sound.
"I hate feeling like this more than anything. I hate this feeling even more than I hate the monster who stole his body. But how does that make sense? Where is the logic behind that?! It's stupid, stupid, stupid. It's so, so stupid! Isn't it wrong that I hate my own sadness more than I hate his killer?! All because it makes me feel so damn... weak!"
Tanza continued to stroke his hair, her rhythm unchanging.
"It is human to feel emotion. To feel sadness. There is no logic to be found there, because logic does not belong in the heart."
She paused, her voice gentle but firm.
"I do not believe you dislike your emotions more than the one who took Suguru. I believe you simply fear them, because as said, emotion isn't something that can be overcome physically or logically."
"———"
Gojo didn't respond.
Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing. His shoulders trembled, a subtle vibration that he couldn't suppress.
"What... the hell..."
He brought his sleeve up to his face, scrubbing aggressively at his eyes. When he finally looked up, his eyes were somewhat red-rimmed, but the fire in them had returned—dimmer, but there.
"Who the hell made you so damn wise, huh? You're supposed to be a brat."
Tanza smiled, a rare expression of genuine pride.
"That would be thanks to Yorna-sama, of course."
"Gah! Whatever, whatever..." Gojo huffed, "I guess you're right... plus, being sad definitely doesn't suit my style. It ruins the vibe."
Tanza nodded in agreement.
Then, Gojo's brows furrowed. He glanced up at the hand still resting on his head.
"...How long are you going to pat me for, huh? Don't think you can keep going just because I had a moment of weakness."
Tanza actually didn't stop despite his words.
"—Just a little bit longer."
"Tch."
Gojo exhaled, blowing a stray strand of white hair out of his face. However, he couldn't suppress the urge to ask the wise child one last question.
"How can you still be smiling after what I just told you? My friend had the exact same ideals as your Lord. He wanted to protect the weak, and it destroyed him. So why aren't you scared that she'll end up the same way?"
Tanza paused. Her hand finally stilled atop his head as she let out a soft, contemplative breath.
"Because Yorna-sama does not carry that burden alone."
She looked him in the eye, her golden gaze unwavering.
"Yorna-sama rules Chaosflame with kindness, yes. But she does not look down on us from a pedestal. She treats us as equals. She pours her love into us, and in return, the people of this city would gladly give their lives for her. It is not a one-way sacrifice, Gojo-san. It is a bond."
She withdrew her hand, folding it neatly into her kimono sleeves.
"Your friend... did he allow those 'weaklings' to help him? Or did he try to look over them all by himself one-sidedly? Yorna-sama smiles because she knows that even if the goal is impossible, she is not walking toward it alone. We are walking with her, willingly."
"..."
Gojo stared at her, his eyes widening slightly.
Alone.
The word rang in his head. Suguru had isolated himself because Satoru had refused to see the same way as him. He had swallowed his doubts and his pain until there was no room left for anything else. He had tried to be a savior for people he couldn't connect with.
"Heh... I see. So that just means..."
A part of the fault lies with me. Or perhaps, the one that had sent me to this world instead.
Gojo muttered, a small, bitter smile tracing his lips as he looked down at his open palm.
He understood now. Just a little bit more. He understood the difference between a martyr and a ruler.
But understanding didn't make the ache in his chest go away.
It still hurt.
So, so much.
Gojo let out a long, exaggerated sigh, scratching the back of his neck before finally speaking.
"Thanks for that. And, uh... my bad?"
Tanza merely tilted her head, a look of genuine confusion crossing her features.
"For what reason are you apologizing?"
"Well, I said some pretty rude stuff. I assumed you were just an ignorant brat because of your small size."
He shrugged. It made sense to him. Surely any normal, sane person would feel some amount of anger at the way he had dismissed them—presuming they knew nothing of pain simply because they were young.
However, Tanza was not 'normal.'
A soft, barely audible breath escaped her lips.
"Fufu."
Gojo's eyes snapped up toward the little girl, his brows furrowing instantly.
"——??"
"Did you just laugh? What the hell?"
Tanza composed herself, though the amusement lingered in her purple eyes.
"Well, unless my eyes are deceiving me, you are rather small yourself. Not to mention, I just had to comfort you as one would a weeping infant, Gojo-san."
"Haaah?!" Gojo bristled, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You're getting a little too comfortable with me! I might have to knock you down a peg or two, servant!"
Tanza's expression didn't change, but her tone sharpened with dry wit.
"It is 'Attendant,' Gojo-san. But if that distinction is too difficult for your current mental state to grasp, perhaps I should arrange some employment for you here? A few days of hard labor might help improve your understanding."
"——Excuuuuse me?"
Gojo craned his neck slowly, the movement exaggerated and theatrical. Then, in a shift so sudden it would give most people whiplash, his gloomy demeanor vanished completely. He hopped to his feet, dusting off his kimono and folding his arms with a grin.
"Well! I'm a bit curious about where I'm going to be staying, you know? I only saw what this city looked like when I was hiding in abandoned houses and being hunted like a dog. Not the best first impression~"
Tanza couldn't help but offer a small, apologetic smile at that.
"It's not your fault, obviously," Gojo continued, waving a hand dismissively. "Our entrance was a bit weird. Plus, I'll be ready for that old fogey this time around. So, whaddya say? Let's grab Meili and go sightseeing!"
"Oh, and give me something to cover these eyes will you?"
Tanza seemed to want to question why Gojo wished to conceal his eyes, but she chose not to pry and simply nodded.
————————————————————————
Chaosflame was, if the city's title hadn't made it obvious enough, chaotic.
It wasn't just the people or the lack of rigid hierarchy on the streets; the infrastructure itself was a labyrinth of madness. Buildings were stacked in irregular, gravity-defying formations unlike anything Gojo had ever seen. Towering stone spires pierced the sky, only beaten by the Crimson Lapis Castle in height.
But beneath those stone monoliths lay a tangled web of life. Wooden structures clung to the sides of stone towers like barnacles. Walkways overlapped at dizzying heights, connecting open balconies and bridges that spanned the gaps between houses with no apparent rhyme or reason.
Unsurprisingly, given what Gojo had heard from Yorna and Tanza, the population was just as diverse as the architecture. The streets were a sea of demi-humans—beastfolk, horned kin, those with scaled skin or mixed bloodlines—all mingling with zero segregation.
Despite the visual chaos, the atmosphere was... peaceful.
It was a supreme irony. The "Demon City," a place that rejected the Empire's iron law of tyranny and merciless rule, had somehow created the most welcoming sanctuary in all of Vollachia.
Most people with the level of strength Yorna Mishigure possessed would be incredibly selfish, arrogant, or perhaps even evil. In the Empire of Vollachia, power usually corrupted.
Yet, because she was selfless enough to look out for those who had never experienced kindness—solely because of their lack of innate talent—she had managed to build something far more dangerous than a kingdom that rely on individual strength.
She had built an army.
A well-coordinated, fanatically loyal army.
It spoke volumes about the flaw in the Empire's ideology that "the strong rule the weak." Fear could command obedience, but love commanded sacrifice.
Gojo's mindset hadn't fully changed, however. The reason he had originally looked down on weaklings was simply because of who he was.
He, Satoru Gojo, was the Strongest. Utterly untouched. Utterly infallible. Capable of learning in seconds what took others a lifetime. Capable of solving impossible equations in the heat of battle while dancing around his opponents.
But now?
Unless he could reclaim that throne, unless he could prove he was the pinnacle once more, he had no right to look down on those less fortunate in the genetic lottery.
Only the Strongest deserves to look down on others.
And right now, looking down on anyone when he had been defeated just didn't make sense.
"It's de~finitely much more interesting to walk thro~ugh the city like this when we're not being hu~nted down, right, Gojo-san?"
The familiar, high-pitched voice of Meili snapped him out of his internal stupor. Originally, her voice had grated on his nerves, but now? Perhaps it was because his own voice had become just as mouse-like and annoying.
Damn that old man. When I get my hands on Olbart...
"Oooof~ that's a rea~lly frightening lo~ok! The type you have when yo~u're thinking of so~mething scary!"
Gojo sighed, tilting his head to look at the blue-haired girl.
He was finally wearing something to conceal the Six Eyes—bandages wrapped tightly around his head. It wasn't exactly stylish, but he didn't care. They were temporary. His signature sunglasses had been lost in Priestella during the battle against the imposter, and without a filter, the sensory overload was giving him a migraine that felt like a drill to the skull.
"Yeah," Gojo drawled, a wicked grin spreading beneath the bandages. "I'm thinking about if it would be possible to throw you into the sun~ Wanna find out?"
Meili froze. For a split second, genuine fear flashed in her eyes before she scrambled behind Tanza, using the deer-girl as a human shield.
Tanza sighed, adjusting her sleeve.
"You really shouldn't joke in such a way with a frightened little girl. Just look at her; she is petrified."
Meili peeked out from behind Tanza, pointing an accusing finger at Gojo.
"He's pro~bably not joking, you kno~w! That freak is a damn powerhouse!"
Gojo laughed, swinging his floppy wrist in a dismissive gesture.
"Heheh, well, I'm not that strong just yet. Lucky for you, Meili-chan~!"
"...Calling me that while you look like a toddler is always unnerving," she muttered, frowning.
Tanza tilted her head in confusion but didn't bother to question the dynamic. She simply continued down the street, the mismatched trio following in her wake.
As they walked, Gojo noticed the gazes of the locals. While some demi-humans looked at the two human children with curiosity, there was no malice. It was as if they didn't care that they were humans.
Or perhaps... it was because of who they were walking with.
"Oh! Tanza-sama!"
A large, wolf-like beastman paused in his work, wiping sweat from his brow as he waved enthusiastically.
"Good afternoon, Althor," Tanza replied, stopping to offer a polite bow. "How is Daisy? That was quite a fall she took."
The beastman scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.
"Ah, well, the little one is still healing, but she's doing much better thanks to you. If you hadn't been there to catch her... well, I don't want to think about it. I can't help but ask—do you want any sort of compensation? A basket of fruit, maybe?"
Tanza shook her head gently, a small, rare smile gracing her lips.
"Not at all. As I said before, I do not spend my time outside the castle seeking compensation."
"Hahah! You really are too kind, aren't you? How is Yorna-sama? Is she doing well?"
Tanza's eyes gleamed with pride.
"Yes, she is doing just fine. I am sure she would love to see little Daisy once that leg of hers is healed up."
"I'll hold you to that! Anyway, nice seein' ya, Tanza-sama!"
Gojo remained quiet through the interaction, observing with a blank expression hidden behind his bandages.
It wasn't an isolated incident. As they ventured deeper into the city, it happened again and again.
An elderly lizard-woman thanked Tanza for helping carry groceries the week before.
A group of children stopped their game to bow respectfully as she passed.
A shopkeeper tried to press a skewer of grilled meat into her hands, which she politely declined.
She wasn't just Yorna's shadow. She was a part of this city's heartbeat.
"You really do like this city and its people, huh?" Gojo asked quietly.
Tanza glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes softer than usual.
"That goes without saying, Gojo-san."
Gojo merely shrugged in response. Even suppressed beneath the layers of white bandages, the Six Eyes perceived the world with a clarity far beyond any average person. He could see the flow of mana in the air, the structural integrity of the stalls, and the muscle tension of every passerby.
They made their way through a bustling market square. Dozens of stalls lined the path, selling everything from vibrant, strange fruits to handcrafted trinkets made of bone and stone.
In any other city, a crowded market like this would be a playground for thieves. Yet, Gojo saw no pickpockets. He saw no guards patrolling with weapons drawn. The order here was maintained by something else entirely.
"Buy 'em fresh, buy 'em cheap! Unlike anything else you'll find in the Empire, and that's the truth! Imported straight from Kararagi!"
Gojo's attention snapped to the source of the shouting. He drifted toward the stall, his bandaged gaze trailing down to a row of sizzling skewers. The meat was glazed in a dark, aromatic sauce, but the animal of origin was... unidentifiable.
He had no idea if this world's animals were the same as Earth's. Would they taste the same? Better? Worse? His curiosity, always insatiable, piqued instantly.
They looked delicious, at least.
"Hey, kid! You interested in these skewers?" the vendor asked, rubbing his stubbled chin with a grin.
"Well, that is why I'm looking, isn't it?"
"Hah! Little smartass, ain'tcha? Oh well, that's cool so long as you buy a skewer or two. They're made of some sort of exotic animal you'll only find in the wilds of Kararagi!"
"'Some sort of exotic animal'?" Gojo deadpanned. "You don't even know what you're selling?"
The man merely shrugged, unbothered by the critique.
"Hey, I didn't hunt whatever beast this mystery meat came from, kid. I'm only selling them and repeating what I was told." He flashed a thumbs-up, his grin widening. "But I can promise they taste real good. Perfect for a growing boy like you—might help you sprout up a bit!"
"Heh?"
A visible vein popped on Gojo's forehead. He growled low in his throat, but showed remarkable self-restraint by simply turning away from the vendor.
"Hey, Tanza! Dough! I need some dough~!"
He gestured wildly to the deer-girl standing behind him, rubbing his thumb and fingers together in the universal sign for greed.
Tanza tilted her head, staring at his hand with genuine confusion.
Gojo sighed, dropping his hand.
"Money. I need money."
"Ah. Right."
She reached into her sleeve and produced a single, silver coin. Gojo accepted it gratefully, flipping it into the air and catching it, hoping it was enough to avoid an awkward haggling session.
The vendor's eyes lit up as he took the coin. He hummed in glee, snatching up not one, but three skewers from the grill.
"Here ya go! And two for the little missies as well... hah."
The man winked at Gojo as he handed over the food.
"A real lady-killer, ain'tcha?"
Gojo froze. He passed a skewer to Tanza and another to Meili, his expression twisting into one of pure disgust.
"Ugh. Yeah, ew. Don't say that."
Meili, munching on her skewer, looked offended.
"That's rude, you kno~w! Being a lady-killer is a compliment!"
"Tch." Gojo took a vicious bite of the mystery meat, speaking with his mouth full. "Sorry, but I'm not into lolis. Don't put me in the same tier as those freaks. I have standards."
"As I already knew, you so~metimes say things I don't understand," Meili muttered, taking a delicate bite of her food.
At least the meat was good.
Actually, it was really good. Though Gojo wasn't sure if that was due to the culinary skills of the vendor or the fact that this was his first hot meal in three days. Living off crusty, rock-hard bread while hiding in alleyways had lowered his standards significantly.
"It's not sweet enough for these teeth of mine, but this'll do for now," Gojo mumbled, chewing thoughtfully. "I hope sweets exist in this world. It'll be a real bummer if they don't."
Meili grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she covered her mouth with her palm.
"Hahah! You have a sweet to~oth? Gosh, I'm not rea~lly surprised. Though, how do you not get fat? You mu~st eat a lot, right? Being who you are~"
Gojo raised an eyebrow, swallowing another bite before answering. He waved the empty skewer toward the sky like a conductor's baton.
"Sweets are essential fuel! Not only do they taste great, but they satisfy that craving like scratching an itch deep in my brain. But anyway, I don't get fat. I don't do fat, you feel me? Not that I'm judging anyone who does—don't cancel me—but I'm Satoru Gojo."
Meili leaned back, huffing at his predictability.
She had heard the phrase 'I am Satoru Gojo' a dozen times already, despite knowing him for only a few days. It was baffling how someone could be so arrogant, so utterly confident in their own existence.
"Suuuuper talented! Mega, ultra talent! Unlike anything or anyone you've ever seen before!" Gojo declared, striking a pose. "I might not be the strongest at this exact moment, but blink, and you'll find that things might have changed!"
Meili blinked.
Actually blinked.
Did she take his words literally? Or was she just mocking him?
She tapped a finger against her chin, studying him closely. Something was different.
"Ah~" Meili snapped her fingers. "You've started to act differently e~ver since you woke up. Did you rea~lize that?"
Gojo tilted his head, the playful grin freezing on his face.
Have I?
He pondered it for a moment.
Yes. Yes, he had. Even he couldn't deny it.
He had cried in front of a stranger he knew for not even a day. He had poured his heart out to a literal child. And worst of all... he had liked the feeling being patted on the head.
No! I refuse! I don't care how comforting it was! I am Satoru Gojo! I do not need head pats!
The realization that his mind was becoming as childish as his body made his skin crawl. He was genuinely acting more childish too. Fuck!
Gojo growled, his fist clenching so hard the wooden skewer splintered into pieces in his grip.
"As I thought... I've got to find that stupid old fart soon. Because I reaaaaally don't like this!"
But what could he actually do about it at the current moment in time?
The old man's skill at concealing his presence was impressive—terrifyingly so. And that wasn't even considering the possibility that Olbart had simply left Chaosflame entirely. Perhaps he was wary of facing Yorna's wrath? Or maybe he just got bored?
Theories were just theories. But if Olbart was gone, tracking him down in a foreign country would be a nightmare.
How annoying.
And why turn him into a brat in the first place?
What was there to gain? Was it just curiosity? Was it a whim based on the answer Gojo had given him? It couldn't have been out of fear. If Olbart had considered him a genuine threat, the old man had plenty of opportunities to kill him during that chase across the rooftops.
Instead, he had toyed with him.
It was absurd just how weakened he was. That cursed tool—or whatever strange magic this world possessed—had done a number on him. Even now, days later, his cursed technique felt somewhat sluggish, like trying to run through water.
"Reverse Cursed Technique would be a damn blessing right now, that's for certain..." Gojo muttered, flexing his stiff fingers.
Without it, he was healing at a human pace. It was excruciatingly slow.
But he still couldn't understand it, using the flow of positive energy into his cursed technique instead of the opposite.
I guess I could just practice in my free time, maybe find a library too. Read up on Vollachia. Information is real good for me in the long-run, especially if I'm going to be stuck here without being able to leave.
But still... that little 'talk' with Tanza hadn't fixed everything that was going on with him. It was merely a bandage on a bullet wound, something that had yet to fully heal.
What purpose do I have here?
Not just in Chaosflame, or Vollachia, but in this entire world.
Satoru Gojo wasn't built to be a background character. He was the main event. The mere thought of fading into obscurity, of lazing around with nothing to challenge him, made his chest tighten with anxiety.
He couldn't hunt curses to kill time; he hadn't seen a single one in this world since arriving.
He couldn't play pranks on Yaga, Shoko, or Nanami. They weren't here. They were a world away, likely thinking he was dead.
He was alone.
All he could do was hope. Hope that fate—or whatever god ruled this strange land—wanted him to be a part of its play.
Just so he could be someone again.