Rainwater splashed through a pothole as two tall figures — one in black, one in white — crossed the crosswalk side by side and disappeared into the family restaurant under the 24-Hour sign.
Wakaba Mutsumi was still frozen in the doorway of the practice room.
She held the pink long-handled umbrella against her chest.
The cold rain made her chest rise and fall in slow, shallow breaths — but it did nothing to lift the suffocating weight sitting on her heart.
Sakiko was gone.
That stumbling blue silhouette had been completely swallowed by the rain.
Messed it up again…
Mutsumi looked down at her reflection in a puddle — fractured by neon lights into something unrecognizable.
No matter when, no matter who.
Everything she tried to hold onto, she’d end up wrecking herself.
All I had to do was hold out the umbrella…
One step forward.
Even just shoving it into her hand…
But I…
Couldn’t do anything.
“I’ve never once enjoyed being in the band…” She’d said those words.
But that’s not true…
Tomori’s singing was so good.
Taki’s drumming was so cool.
Soyo’s bass sound was always so warm…
And Sakiko…
It’s my fault…
Mutsumi stiffly lowered the umbrella.
The sound of rain hitting the ground felt flat and suffocating.
Somewhere along the way, this busy, people-filled street had started to look different to her.
Behind the garbage bins, beneath the stained patches on the walls — small things, roughly rat-sized but far more revolting, were darting around.
This nauseating sight was not new to Wakaba Mutsumi.
For as long as she could remember, they had always appeared alongside negative emotions, crawling into the corners others couldn’t see.
She’d never known what they were.
She’d only figured out that as long as she pretended not to see them, they wouldn’t come near.
But right now, as the helplessness and self-loathing swelling in her chest threatened to drown her completely, those disgusting shadows were sharper than she’d ever seen them — creeping along the base of the walls toward her feet.
Mutsumi didn’t flinch.
She just stared down at them with cold, detached eyes.
Disgusting.
Just like me.
Then, as if on instinct, she turned and looked toward the family restaurant the two men had just walked into.
She’d noticed them from the start.
Hard not to.
The street had other people hurrying through the rain, but those two existed like someone had cut two blank holes right into a pitch-black canvas.
The tall, white-haired man with the eye covering.
And the languid black-haired boy who seemed to find nothing in this world worth being interested in.
The way they’d glanced over at her earlier — casual, barely a look — had sent a shudder through her that came from somewhere in her bones.
That was the biological dread that living things feel in the presence of something absolutely stronger than themselves.
What stuck with her even more was how clean the space around them was.
In Mutsumi’s vision, the grimy, horrible things swarmed freely — the whole street was their playground.
Except for where those two had walked.
At the pedestrian crossing.
Around the traffic light.
Under the streetlamps…
Within a few meters of where they stood, something like a perfect vacuum had formed.
Those creatures that crept close to that boundary dissolved the moment they touched it — soundless, effortless, like snow hitting sunlight.
No struggle.
Just gone.
Mutsumi stared at the blurred shapes through the restaurant’s glass window for a long moment.
Then she looked away, hugged the umbrella back to her chest, and quietly left.
“I’ve never once enjoyed being a sorcerer.” In the family restaurant, that’s what Uchiha Ayato told Satoru Gojo.
“High-risk, no career prospects, you’re stuck spending your time with people who could lose their minds at any moment — and your chances of dying are higher than being a US soldier in the Middle East.” Uchiha Ayato propped his chin on one hand.
His eyelids drooped in that familiar way of his, the look of someone who’d seen through the world and found it a little exhausting.
“I agreed to come to Jujutsu High, but I think we should settle the terms first.” “Bottom line: I need a pay raise.” He cut straight to it.
“I want freedom of action, an exemption from all mandatory dispatched missions, and the right to withdraw at any time mid-mission if I judge it uncompletable.” “And my monthly stipend needs to be at minimum the standard for a high-end white-collar worker in Tokyo’s Minato Ward.” “Those are my non-negotiables.
Take any one off the table and there’s no deal.” “Oh boy, the extra-large strawberry parfait is here~” Gojo’s eyes lit up and he completely ignored the entire laundry list of conditions Ayato had just laid out.
A server in uniform, sweating slightly, rolled a dessert tower stacked with fruit and cream mountains to the table, then backed away at speed.
Gojo grabbed the long spoon and scooped an enormous heap of cream straight into his mouth while Ayato was still sitting right there.
“Mmm-mmm-mmm, the sweetness is just right!” He chewed enthusiastically, nodding away.
“Sure, all of those conditions are fine.” “Salary, authority — I’ll go shake it out of those rotten tangerines, or worst case just pull it from the Gojo family’s private funds.” “Money-solvable problems are never a problem to me~” “But…” The next second, Gojo stopped eating.
He straightened up, planted both hands on the table, and leaned forward until his face was right in Ayato’s space.
He even pulled the blindfold off, letting those dangerous sky-blue eyes fully into the open air.
“Forget the boring stuff for a second.” “Come on, let me see!” “Compared to your worldly little calculations, these eyes of yours have been driving me insane with curiosity.” “How did you do that earlier?” Gojo’s gaze locked onto Ayato’s eyes, grin stretching wide, teeth white and sharp.
“No cursed energy.
No domain.
Just one second of eye contact, and you bypassed every sense and directly injected a false reality into my brain…” “That’s a little like what my domain does~” “Come on, tell me, Ayato-kun!” “Haah…” Uchiha Ayato sighed.
His eyelids lowered, and when they lifted again, his dark pupils had been washed through with red — three black tomoe turning slowly against a bloodshot backdrop.
“You really don’t understand boundaries, do you?” He kept his voice relaxed, those crimson eyes meeting the nearby sky-blue ones head on.
“This is my Innate Technique.
You can call it the Sharingan.” “As long as I don’t go blind, these eyes can read the flow of cursed energy, copy techniques and physical skills.” “That thing from earlier — also a minor application of these eyes.
Think of it as a mental attack that doesn’t require opening a domain.” He laid it all out unhurriedly, openly, nothing held back.
In the jujutsu world, this had one airtight name — Technique Disclosure.
“Oh?
You can copy techniques too?” Gojo dragged out the vowel, eyes stuck on the three spinning tomoe in Ayato’s pupils.
“Interesting.
Very, very interesting eyes.” “But, Ayato-kun — if I’m not mistaken…” Gojo pointed at Ayato’s eyes with his spoon.
“Earlier in the alley, you only had two tomoe.
Now there are three.
What happened?” “Quietly getting stronger right in front of me — are you trying to give Sensei a complex?” This wasn’t a casual joke.
Through the Six Eyes’ observation, the cursed energy flow around Ayato’s eyes was demonstrably several times more complex than it had been before.
Uchiha Ayato looked completely unruffled.
“Isn’t that common knowledge?” “I just voluntarily disclosed full information about my technique to an outsider right here, right now.” “Exposing your hand to gain a power boost — that’s a Binding Vow.” “So, the Sharingan got stronger.
Two tomoe became three.
Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Gojo stared at him for a solid few seconds.
Then he burst out laughing so hard he nearly tipped backward off his chair.
“HAHAHAHAHA!” “Makes perfect sense!
Absolutely perfect!” Gojo slid his blindfold back on, concealing those dangerously blue eyes once more.
“Alright.
Deal’s done.” “All your conditions — including whatever complaints those rotten tangerines are gonna raise — I’ll handle it all.
Consider it Sensei’s special treatment for a promising student.” He scooped up the last spoonful of slightly melted cream and tossed it in his mouth, chewing loudly.
“Me and Principal Yaga will recommend you to the supervision department for Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer status.” “The formal procedures and assessment mission should reach you by tomorrow.” “Don’t go and die on me, Ayato-kun.” “Sensei is very much looking forward to seeing you walk through Jujutsu High’s door after spring break~” To be continued…