Inside Jujutsu High’s operations room, the smell of tobacco mixed with the tense fluctuations of cursed energy.
Mei Mei was smiling mysteriously over her checkbook, while Nanami Kento adjusted his tie beside her, radiating the low pressure of a man who desperately wanted to get the hell off work.
“That covers our current deployment.” Yaga Masamichi tapped the whiteboard, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
“We hold Shinjuku and Kyoto, then eliminate every piece of trash Suguru brings with him.
As for Suguru himself…
leave him to Satoru.” The confidence of having “the strongest” as the final deciding factor gave these sorcerers, who lived every day with death hanging over them, the faint illusion of something called safety.
…
After the strategy meeting ended, Gojo Satoru walked into the first-years’ classroom with his hands in his pockets.
Maki was cracking her knuckles, glaring fiercely at Makoto.
Toge was spraying medicine into his throat.
Panda was doing chest stretches.
And Yuta…
Yuta was so nervous that his face had gone pale as a corpse, while Rika behind him let out a skin-crawling low growl in response to his unease.
“All right, kids, assignment time!” Gojo’s tone was light.
“Maki, Toge, Panda, you three stay on campus defense.
As for Makoto-kun—” He looked at Makoto, his eyes behind the sunglasses carrying a faint trace of scrutiny.
“Considering your flashy spatial ability, you’ll go with Mei-san and Hakari to support Kyoto.
No problem, right?” “Hold on a second, sensei.” Lord Makoto the First sighed, then slowly took a long ‘cigar’ out of his uniform pocket.
Of course, it was only a cocoa stick shaped to look realistic.
He casually wrapped a plaid scarf he had dug out from who-knew-where around his neck, then spoke in a voice so exhausted it sounded as if he owed all of humanity hundreds of billions.
“Um…
I know the atmosphere is very passionate right now, but I still can’t help asking one thing.
Sensei, and all of you senpais, did you adults maybe start focusing on the completely wrong point from the very beginning?
Like, all the way off in Siberia?” The air went silent instantly.
Maki stopped moving and raised an eyebrow.
“Makoto, are you asking for a beating?” “No, no, no.
I just think the current operation plan gives off a foolish aura known as ‘simplicity.'” “Yuta, come here and hand me a lighter.” He pointed beside himself with the chocolate cigar.
“From now on, you are my disciple.
Your job is to record how these adults are being led around by the nose like third-rate extras.” “Huh?
M-Me?” Okkotsu Yuta moved over in confusion.
“Makoto, what kind of nonsense are you starting now?” A vein appeared on Maki’s forehead.
“Shh—don’t talk, Maki-chan.
You’re better suited to solving problems with muscle rather than relying on your brain.
Trust me, the fighting style that suits you best is muscle connected to brain, instinct replacing thought.” Makoto stood up and walked to the map at the front of the classroom.
He casually used the chocolate stick to draw X-marks over the two large circles, his gaze turning into that of a strict teacher facing an entire class of failing students.
“I don’t understand…
why is everyone discussing where Geto Suguru intends to start the battle, as if Shinjuku and Kyoto alone have already decided whether we live or die.” “Ten years ago, Geto Suguru and Gojo-sensei set out from here together and began the era known as the ‘strongest duo.’ The jujutsu world even enjoyed a short-lived age of ‘all things flourishing, full of life,’ as if it were still right before our eyes.
Who would have thought that, a mere ten years later, this place would change into the graveyard where we’re supposed to be buried with them?” Makoto deliberately paused, looking at everyone’s expressions as their curiosity was drawn in.
He felt a burst of secret satisfaction, but instead of revealing the answer right away, he continued slowly, savoring the damn suspense.
“In the world of jujutsu, the important question is never ‘how to do it,’ but ‘why do it.’ Or rather, why didn’t Geto Suguru do this before?” “The reason he didn’t make a move earlier is actually very simple—because Gojo Satoru is ‘the strongest.’ He’s an out-of-spec monster who can, in the most literal sense, kill everyone by himself.
So the real question is: why did Geto choose now, of all times, to decide he can challenge sensei?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone turning slightly frivolous.
“Could it be…
sensei, just like in ‘A Bitter Summer’, you really did have some ‘filthy adult transaction’ with him in private?
Like exchanging some kind of love token during that declaration-of-war reunion—Ah sorry!
I shouldn’t have made a joke that might get me erased on the spot!” The modern jujutsu king, Makoto—self-proclaimed—keenly noticed the corner of Gojo Satoru’s mouth twitch, so he immediately returned to the main point.
“There is only one truth, and it’s so simple it’s honestly ridiculous!
For Cursed Spirit Manipulation, the one sacred widower in the entire world most capable of overturning the causal relationship known as ‘the strongest’—Mr.
Yuta—is sitting right here, openly and carelessly, on my right.” Makoto’s gaze passed over everyone and landed directly on the trembling Okkotsu Yuta.
“Right now, Yuta can’t control Rika at all, can he?
He isn’t a fighting force.
He’s a damn nuclear bomb that could explode at any moment.
Since Geto Suguru’s goal is to build a world only for sorcerers, what he needs most is the ultimate cursed spirit powerful enough to overturn the variable known as ‘the strongest.’ And right now, Rika is hanging openly from Yuta, who hasn’t even learned how to walk properly yet…” Makoto spread his hands and sighed.
“Shinjuku and Kyoto are just large-scale misdirection, like a magician using flashy tricks to pull the audience’s attention away.
He only wants to lure away every guard dog, then come back to collect his favorite piece of ‘takeout.’ Sensei, did you adults get blinded by the fancy phrase ‘Night Parade of a Hundred Demons’?” The classroom fell into a deathly silence.
Gojo Satoru pulled up one corner of his blindfold, and his Six Eyes shone with an unprecedented cold light in the dim classroom.
He turned to look at the deathly pale Yuta, then looked back at the student wearing an expression that practically screamed, ‘There is only one truth.’ “Makoto.” He suddenly laughed, though the smile carried a chilling edge.
“Looks like I’ve been too relaxed with your ‘moral education.’ You’ve even learned how to cosplay during such a serious occasion.” “True.” Unexpectedly, Gojo did not refute him.
He leaned against the blackboard, the index finger of his right hand lightly tapping his arm every now and then.
The oppressive aura of “the strongest” instantly receded, replaced by a lazy protectiveness known as favoring one’s own students.
“Makoto is right.
There’s a very high chance Suguru’s target is Yuta.
But—” He raised his head.
Though the blindfold covered his eyes, he could feel those Six Eyes looking past the window, toward the streets of Tokyo several hundred kilometers away.
“Even knowing it’s a diversion, I still have to go to Shinjuku.
After all, that’s Suguru’s ‘welcome party’ prepared specially for me.” “Why?” Maki frowned and slapped the desk, sounding somewhat impatient.
“If we already know his target is Yuta, shouldn’t we just defend Jujutsu High?
That topknot bastard might be strong, but there’s no way he can break through all of us, right?” “No can do, Maki-chan.” Gojo shook his head, the corners of his lips lifting into a smile that made it sound obvious.
“Precisely because I understand Suguru, I know that since he dared to declare war, he definitely wouldn’t just throw a few small fries into Shinjuku to scare ordinary people.” His voice was light, yet brooked no argument.
“He’s placed real fighting forces in Shinjuku, specifically prepared to hold me back.
If I don’t go, the things originally aimed at me will go berserk.
When that happens…
Shinjuku will really become the kind of ‘losing business’ Mei-san hates most.
I’d feel bad leaving that kind of troublesome crap to anyone else.” Makoto fell silent.
This was Gojo Satoru’s kind of gentleness.
Even if he knew there was an obvious trap waiting for him, he would still step into it alone rather than let his colleagues and students shoulder unnecessary casualties.
“So this is what they call ‘the capable do more work,’ huh?” Makoto sighed and put his drawing board into his bag.
“Using sensei’s sense of responsibility to forcibly separate the strongest combat force from the main battlefield.
Geto Suguru really knows how to ‘take care’ of an old friend….
Your taste in friends is terrible, Gojo-sensei.” “So the plan stays the same.” Gojo clapped his hands and returned to that playful tone that made people want to punch him.
He looked at them, his eyes full of the kind of arrogance that somehow put people at ease.
“…So, Makoto, you’ll go with Mei-san to support Kyoto.
Resolve things as quickly as possible, then come back using ‘that move’ of yours.
No problem, right?” Gojo patted Makoto shoulder with the attitude of someone sending his “beloved friend and family” to the front line as a human firework.
Makoto, no longer playing cosplay, stood there without moving.
He lifted his tablet slightly and revealed an extremely disgusted expression.
‘Tch…
damn white-hair.
So you really did notice, huh…’ “Sensei, I request to stay behind.” Makoto raised his hand, expressionlessly interrupting Gojo’s attempt to package him up and send him to Kyoto.
“Oh?” Gojo stopped and turned his head, the eye behind his sunglasses studying him with great interest.
“Makoto-kun, your analysis just now did sound pretty convincing, but you should understand this.
If Suguru really has his eyes on Yuta, staying at Jujutsu High isn’t work fit for ‘Lord Makoto the First.’ It requires the awareness of a sacrifice.” He deliberately dragged out his words, his tone carrying a hint of teasing.
“Or are you actually afraid of those cursed spirits in Kyoto that look too abstract?” “No, sensei.
As the saying goes, ‘How can one’s subordinates follow if the king does not lead the way?’ Without King Makoto the First, Svin Maki, Flat Inumaki, and disciple Okkotsu Gray would basically be a complete idiot squad.” “Hah, Makoto-kun, you really are…” Gojo suddenly laughed.
He propped his chin up with one hand, looking as if he were getting to know his student all over again.
“You chose Yuta instead of Mei-san?” He pulled up one corner of his blindfold, revealing those blue Six Eyes.
His tone suddenly turned teasing, with a bit of playful gritted-teeth irritation mixed in.
“When you were drawing Go-jo-Mai, you clearly said you liked mature, wealthy older-sister types like Mei-san.
I even specially saved the nice job of ‘making big money by staying beside Mei Mei’ for my cute student.
Could it be—” He moved closer to his student, who had never once acted properly, and spoke in a joking, breezy tone.
“Could it be that Makoto-kun actually likes Yuta’s type…
gloomy and pure-hearted?
Is that why you can’t bear to leave?” “…Sensei, please put away that dangerous imagination of yours.
Mei Mei-nee’s commission fees are too expensive.
I’m afraid staying around her too long will bankrupt me.” Makoto sighed, but his gaze was unusually calm.
“As the saying goes, the sorcerer count is five against one, the advantage is ours.
Since Shinjuku is a trap prepared specifically for you, then Jujutsu High needs someone who can see through Geto Suguru’s little tricks at a glance.
Maki and the others are too…
mm, stupid.
Yuta is too gentle.
Only someone black-hearted man like me can hold out for a few more rounds in front of that ‘old flame’ of yours, right?” “Makoto, who the hell are you calling stupid?” Maki waved her fist from behind him.
Gojo Satoru was silent for a while, then suddenly burst into hearty laughter.
He slapped the back of Makoto’s head hard enough to nearly shove him straight into the floor tiles.
“Good!
Since Makoto-kun has that kind of resolve, I’ll allow it!” He put his blindfold back into place, his tone as light as if he had just approved a student’s request to stay on campus during summer break.
“Then command authority over Jujutsu High—nominally, that belongs to Maki.
But decisions involving ‘Limitless’ are up to you.” He adjusted his blindfold again and turned toward the classroom door, waving at them.
His back remained as arrogant as ever, yet somehow reassuring.
“Maki, Toge, Panda, plus Yuta and Makoto-kun.
The five of you stay at school.
Treat it like a paid vacation picnic.
If Suguru really does show up—” He glanced back and winked, his tone as casual as if he were deciding what to eat for dinner.
“Then try a little harder and beat him flat, okay?
Don’t worry.
Sensei will resolve the trouble in Shinjuku as fast as possible and come back with souvenirs.
Makoto-kun, don’t die, all right?
If you do, I’ll copy all your browser history and plaster it over the entire school gate.” “…Then please hurry back.
That death sounds way too terrifying!” Makoto watched Gojo Satoru disappear at the end of the corridor, then turned his head and found Maki and the others looking at him with expressions that said, ‘You really are trash.’ “What are you staring at?” He picked up his drawing board again, the corner of his mouth curving into a slightly broken smile.
“Since ‘the strongest’ has left the stage to us, we should prepare a proper ‘surprise’ for that heartless ex-lover of his, shouldn’t we?” “…Makoto-kun, my name isn’t Okkotsu Gray.
Also, your ‘cigar’ melted.
There’s chocolate sauce all over the corner of your mouth.
You look like you’re coughing up black blood.” “Shut up, Yuta!
This is called the majesty of a king!”