Jujutsu Kaisen — Chapter 35 - The Ultimate Limitless Showdown
The night wind swept through Kyoto's broken streets.
The alarm at Jujutsu Headquarters was still wailing somewhere behind them. Satoru Gojo kicked a chunk of gravel, and the stone skipped and rattled far down the asphalt.
"Did you see that old hag's face just now?" He had both hands stuffed in his pockets, grinning like a bully who'd just gotten away with everything.
"Turned purple as an eggplant. I genuinely thought he was going to drop dead from a brain hemorrhage right there on the floor."
Suguru Geto walked beside him. Said nothing.
He ran his fingers along the frayed edge of his coat where the electric guitar's blast wave had torn it.
The old him would never have done something like this. Would never have flipped the table that completely.
But right now, all he felt was a deep, unfamiliar ease settling in his gut.
No nauseating greater goods to weigh. No scheming old fossils to accommodate.
If something pisses you off, smash it. Turns out it's that simple.
"You call that a big deal!"
"A true Youth Special Training is about making them grasp the meaning of life through extreme physical suffering! A thousand frog jumps was just the appetizer! Next time they dare stick their hands where they don't belong, I'll have them do a handstand marathon around all of Japan!"
Toji laughed, full and loud, flashing a wide stretch of stark white teeth. "Come on, come on, I'm starving!"
Fifteen minutes later.
A late-night ramen stall on the side of the road.
"Boss, sixth bowl!" Toji slammed the empty bowl onto the greasy wooden counter with a crack and hollered.
Satoru Gojo slid sideways in disgust, putting distance between himself and the gorilla before flying broth could reach him.
"Fushiguro-sensei, have you not eaten in days?" Suguru Geto stared at the tower of empty bowls. His eyelid twitched.
"What the hell do you know! Burning youth requires a massive caloric intake to sustain!"
Toji yanked the fresh bowl from the boss's hands and devoured it in great, heaving mouthfuls.
"Especially after grinding those lifeless old fossils into the dirt — that took a serious toll on my patience for this world. Carbs are non-negotiable."
Satoru Gojo's chopsticks shot out. Clean angle, precise reach. He plucked the biggest, fattiest piece of chashu clean out of Toji's bowl.
"You little shit! Want your ass kicked again!" Toji's eyes snapped wide. His chopsticks blurred into afterimages lunging for the meat.
Too slow. Satoru Gojo had already shoved it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, deliberately, making it loud.
"Cut the crap."
He pushed his sunglasses up and fixed those pale blue eyes on Toji. "Muscle-brained idiot. Don't get too comfortable. One day I'm going to beat you into the ground with pure taijutsu, you Cursed Energy-less, green-skinned gorilla."
Toji blinked. Then he burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha! Now we're talking!" He slapped a palm onto Satoru Gojo's back. The crack echoed down the street. Satoru Gojo nearly choked the chashu back up.
"That's a youth burning with the Will of Fire! You're welcome to challenge me anytime, but the price of losing is going to hurt."
Suguru Geto watched the two of them bicker.
The ramen stall's fluorescent bulb flickered overhead, a little too bright. Steam drifted and curled in the air. He lifted his cup and took a sip of barley tea. Cold. It slid down his throat clean and quiet.
If it could always be like this, that wouldn't be bad at all.
No suicide missions stretching into infinity. No nauseating Cursed Spirit orbs. Just this, loud, stupid, thoughtless everyday life.
"Boss, the check." Suguru Geto set his cup down and sighed.
The teacher was supposed to be treating them. But after the gorilla emptied every single pocket and produced exactly 2 coins, he had declared, with complete sincerity, that "youth has no need for the vulgarity of money" and slid the bill across the table to his students.
The days after they returned to Jujutsu High were surprisingly quiet.
The wrecked conference room at Kyoto Headquarters was still under repair.
Of the old mandarins forced through 1,000 frog jumps, 2 were reportedly admitted to the ICU. The rest could barely drag themselves out of bed.
The higher-ups were well and truly rattled.
A man with zero Cursed Energy who could crush a top-grade Cursed Tool barehanded. Two utterly unrestrained Special Grade students. Together, they sat on Jujutsu Headquarters like an active volcano.
The emergency dispatch orders were canceled. The messy, obviously manpower-burning extermination missions dropped by more than half.
A quiet settled over Jujutsu High. The kind it hadn't seen in a long time.
Masamichi Yaga was ordered to write a 30,000-word formal apology. When he sat in his office drinking tea, he was smiling.
Deep into the night. The dormitory building was completely still.
Satoru Gojo stood at his window, looking out at the distant Forest of Punishment.
He thought about how effortlessly at ease Toji had looked all day.
He clicked his tongue.
Annoying as hell.
The chosen son of the Gojo clan. The Six Eyes. Limitless. And yet in pure hand-to-hand combat, he'd been ground into the dirt by a man who didn't have a single drop of Cursed Energy.
Shoko's words from the other day were still rattling around in his head.
Reverse Cursed Technique... it's like whoosh whoosh, and then bam...
He'd been grinding through training. He could feel himself brushing against something, the edge of it just within reach. But it wasn't there yet. That last step kept slipping away.
He needed a trigger. Something that could shove his brain past its limit.
He rubbed his chin.
Tomorrow. He'd go find that gorilla and shake the rust loose.
Three days later. The training ground behind Jujutsu High.
The sun hit like a fist. No wind at all. The air sat thick and stifling, heavy enough to make breathing a small effort.
Toji had on a black tank top. He was parked in a folding chair under a tree, a purple clay teapot in one hand, slurping his tea with great contentment.
Four-year-old Megumi Fushiguro crouched at his feet. He wore a miniature green spandex suit, shrunken down to his size. He was staring at the dirt, prodding ants with a twig. His expression was flat.
"I'm telling you. This outfit is stupid." Megumi didn't look up.
"This is the battle robe of youth! It lets your muscles breathe!" Toji conned his son without a trace of shame. "Wear it long enough and you'll be stronger than an ant."
Megumi rolled his eyes.
Heavy footsteps cut the conversation short.
Satoru Gojo had left his jacket somewhere. Just a white undershirt, sleeves shoved up to the elbow. Both hands in his pockets. He walked into the shade like he owned it.
"Hey, Toji-sensei." He lifted his chin. "Regular training's gotten boring. Let's fight."
Toji stopped slurping.
"Did I hear that right?" He stood up. His joints popped like a handful of frying beans. "You, the young master who's always hiding behind Limitless, are voluntarily asking for special training?"
"Cut the crap." Satoru Gojo pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them to Megumi. Those pale blue Six Eyes opened fully. "You've been sitting around so long your bones are rusting. I'm doing you a favor."
Megumi caught the sunglasses without looking. Sighed quietly. Shuffled back on his haunches to get a better angle on what was about to happen.
A noise came from the tree line.
Suguru Geto emerged carrying a long wooden bench. Shoko Ieiri trailed behind him with 2 bottles of iced cola, a lollipop already in her mouth.
"Front-row seats." Shoko dropped onto the bench. "Cigarettes and beer for sale."
"My money's on Fushiguro-sensei beating the shit out of Gojo today."
➤ Next: Throughout Heaven and Earth, I Alone Am the Honored One!