Half an hour later, Ikebukuro.
The neon lights along the street were trampled into fragments of every color across the waterlogged pavement, and the fine threads of rain wove a translucent net.
A person like Gojo Satoru, even holding a perfectly unremarkable black umbrella, stood out in the crowd like a high-wattage lightbulb.
With easy familiarity he slung an arm around Uchiha Ayato’s shoulders, letting most of his weight press down, the umbrella tilting crookedly over the two of them.
“Aw, don’t make that kind of face, Ayato-kun~” “Now that you’ve agreed to come to the Tech College, I—your teacher—won’t shortchange you, you know.” Gojo Satoru’s voice bounced through the curtain of rain, so breezy it made you want to land a punch on his face: “The hamburg steak set meal at that family restaurant up ahead is absolutely divine—the sauce is so rich it’ll make your soul tremble!” “Order whatever you like in a bit—teacher’s treat.
Even if you order the entire menu, no problem at all!” Uchiha Ayato’s eyelids drooped, his usually soul-snatching black eyes now reduced to the lifeless stare of a dead fish.
Uchiha Ayato: ok then, looks like I’ve been driven up the wall here, fam.
Still, the System prompt box in his field of vision did something to patch up his heart, which had been press-ganged into service—— [Lifetime Mission: Accept Hatake Kakashi’s invitation and join Team Seven.] [Status: Completed] [Reward: Three-Tomoe Sharingan] Fine, then—for the sake of these eyes, this deal could just barely be called not too much of a loss.
“Teacher, did your sense of personal space get burned away along with everything else when you awakened your cursed technique?” Ayato shot back in exasperation, trying to wriggle out from under that arm.
But all this move earned him was an even more enthusiastic clamp-down from Gojo Satoru: “I’ve got no need for a thing like that—my love, your teacher’s love, is boundless and infinite.” The traffic light at the intersection ahead happened to switch to green, the countdown digits flickering through the rain.
“Hm?” Gojo Satoru, who had been chattering nonstop, suddenly let out a puzzled sound.
Hearing this, Uchiha Ayato pulled his thoughts back as well and followed the man’s gaze through the curtain of rain.
On the crosswalk, a blue-haired girl in a cream top paired with a grey lattice skirt was making her way over with unsteady, stumbling steps, sobbing loudly all the while as though no one else existed.
She held no umbrella, letting the icy rain soak through her once impeccably styled twin-tails until they clung, drenched, to her cheeks and neck; the streetlight stretched her staggering shadow into something quite slender.
Togawa Sakiko.
And what’s more, the Togawa Sakiko who had just strangled CRYCHIC to death with her own hands.
Uchiha Ayato recognized her at a single glance.
A Crying Sakiko on a rainy night in this very spot counted as a classic CG, too.
And just then, the System triggered once more—— [Social Mission: Obtain Uchiha Sasuke’s friendship.
Reward: Ocular Technique: Amaterasu] Uchiha Ayato: ???
Six-six-six—is this for real, damn it?
If you’re Sasuke, then who am I?
Our little Sasuke-boy is truly blessed, too.
Still, obtaining her friendship, huh…
If it were the weak White Sakiko, this mission would be an absolute breeze.
But the Togawa Sakiko of now had already killed off her own weak self with her own hands, so everything would have to be thought through far more carefully.
Better leave the grand Sakiko-sensei be for now.
Sigh—his only regret was that he couldn’t use Impure World Reincarnation; otherwise he’d just resurrect the old Sakiko outright, and why would he ever have to weigh all this so much?
“Is this kind of melodramatic sob-story routine what’s trending among middle schoolers these days?” Gojo Satoru turned his head with interest, watching that petite figure gradually melt into the depths of the rainy night: “Crying so miserably—not even bothering with an umbrella.” Uchiha Ayato withdrew his gaze, stuffed both hands back into his trouser pockets, and said flatly: “Who knows?
Middle-school girls these days are all pretty unhinged.” “Maybe she figures getting rained on will clear her head a little.” That January, choosing to camp out every Thursday at ten p.m.
to watch “Ave Mujica” was one of the most regrettable decisions Uchiha Ayato had ever made in his life.
Ichiga—, I’ll probably never forgive you for the rest of my life.
“Oh?” Gojo Satoru was, in the end, Gojo Satoru: even though Ayato’s tone had been flat enough, he still caught the faint thread of resentment buried within it.
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze beneath the blindfold settling back onto Uchiha Ayato’s face: “From your tone—you know her?” “Or is she a backup target in that ‘marrying-in plan’ of yours?” “Huh?
Backup target?” Uchiha Ayato let out a scoffing laugh, his gaze lingering briefly on that staggering blue figure before quickly sliding away: “You’re overthinking it, teacher.” “A brat who cries like the sky is falling the moment she starts—she’d be far too heavy as a backup.” “Besides, who knows—maybe her family just went bankrupt?” “Me, I just happened to catch that band of hers play a Live once at CiRCLE.” Ayato halted, turned slightly to the side, gave a light nod of his chin, and sent his gaze past Gojo Satoru’s shoulder toward the far end of the crosswalk.
There, at the doorway of a practice room, a green-haired girl in a Tsukinomori uniform, exquisite as a doll, stood rigid in the rain.
She clutched an umbrella tightly to her chest, her knuckles a sickly blue-white from the sheer force of her grip.
Rainwater ran down her pale-green hair into the hollow of her neck, yet she seemed unable to feel the cold—only the shrunken reflection of Togawa Sakiko’s resolute departure flickered within those golden pupils.
“By comparison, it’s the girl in the back who’s the more interesting one.” Uchiha Ayato narrowed his eyes, a streak of crimson light flashing through his pupils and vanishing in an instant: “She’s got an umbrella right there in her hands, yet all she dares to do is stand there and watch her companion get drenched.” “That kind of self-loathing, powerless-to-change negative emotion—it must be pretty conspicuous to your eyes, right?” Gojo Satoru followed Ayato’s gaze and turned his head, his flippant smile reining itself in just a touch.
He tugged down one corner of his blindfold, that streak of pale blue revealing itself once more, his gaze crossing the rain and the void to sweep precisely over the girl.
“Ohh…” Gojo Satoru let out a long, drawn-out sigh of admiration: “What a colossal mass of negative emotion—it’s as if she’s got a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood hidden inside her body.” “And that sense of self-binding, locking all her pain and obsession away deep inside…” “That girl—even among those stuffy old families of the jujutsu world—is a rare ‘rough gem’ with the potential to become a seriously formidable sorcerer~” “Not bad, Ayato-kun—your nose is even sharper than I’d imagined.” Gojo Satoru looked at Wakaba Mutsumi, motionless as if she’d taken root on the spot, the corner of his mouth splitting into a wicked curve: “Shall we scoop her up along the way too?
You ought to be quite good at counseling lost little puppets like her.” “Better cut her some slack.” Uchiha Ayato sighed: “Ignorance is a kind of bliss.” “Wallowing in some girls’ game of playing house—stuffed full of smiles, tears, and tangled love and hate—is perfectly fine; there’s no need to step into the real world.” “As for those who descend into hell, just me alone is enough.” With that, Uchiha Ayato strode off on his own.
Gojo Satoru stared at Wakaba Mutsumi for a few seconds, then glanced at Ayato, who was already heading toward the family restaurant, and burst into a string of breezy laughter: “Hey, Ayato-kun, wait for me!” “When you order, remember to get the special strawberry parfait—three servings’ worth, mind you; one isn’t even enough to fill the gaps between my teeth!”