Jujutsu Kaisen — Chapter 46 - Splitting Forces and the New Master of the Time Vessel Association

Satoru Gojo lifted his head. Those eyes, usually so untouchable, so insufferably assured, were hollow now. Terrifyingly hollow.

"Jie doesn't need me anymore."

"That guy... once he makes a decision, not even ten oxen could drag him back."

"I don't even know what he's thinking. What kind of 'strongest' does that make me?"

The bastard was spiraling.

Toji frowned, strode over, grabbed the shredded collar of Satoru Gojo's shirt, and hauled him bodily out of the rubble.

"Whether he needs you or not — that's his business." Toji stared dead into those pale blue eyes.

"But you're his best friend, and I'm his teacher. Are we just going to stand here and watch?"

"Has your Flame of Youth been snuffed out by a single piss-poor setback?!"

Toji's eyes went wide, spittle nearly flying onto Satoru Gojo's face.

He snatched the photo up from the ground and slapped it hard against Satoru Gojo's chest.

"That bun-headed brat said he only took their legs, so he only took their legs."

"He's got the guts to call the higher-ups monkeys to their faces. He's got the guts to flip that entire village upside down. You really think he doesn't have the guts to admit he killed a few wastes who weren't even worth the title of monkey?"

Satoru Gojo went still.

The dust-covered photo slid off his chest.

Jie's character, he'd never stoop to lying.

Toji let go.

Satoru Gojo found his footing.

He bent down, picked up the photo, crumpled it into a ball, and clenched it hard in his fist.

He turned and looked at Masamichi Yaga, slumped on the floor.

"Principal."

Satoru Gojo's voice came out low.

"Give me some time to investigate this."

Masamichi Yaga's lips trembled.

Sheltering a Curse User with Jujutsu Headquarters' highest-level wanted order hanging over his head, that would paint a target on all of Jujutsu High.

But he bit down hard.

"Go."

Satoru Gojo turned and headed for the exit.

"Wait."

Toji stepped sideways. His massive frame filled the doorway.

Satoru Gojo looked up. "What?"

"In a hurry to kill someone?" Toji crossed his arms.

"Off to pry open the mouths of those old fossils at Jujutsu Headquarters?"

Satoru Gojo said nothing. But that was exactly what he intended to do.

Behind them, Masamichi Yaga braced himself against the wall and pushed to his feet.

"Jujutsu Headquarters is the prime suspect. But without solid evidence, they're just a pack of old foxes that nothing gets through."

"Torture them and they still won't talk."

"Are you really going to slaughter every last one of them? Walk the same path as Jie, betray Jujutsu High, and make yourself an enemy of the entire Jujutsu World?"

Masamichi Yaga fixed him with a hard stare. "That won't clear Jie's name. It will drag you and the entire Gojo Clan into an abyss there's no climbing out of."

Satoru Gojo's brow creased.

He had thought about it. More than once.

Drag out every last one of those rotten oranges. Pry their mouths open the direct way. Then scatter their ashes to the wind.

But the principal's words snapped him awake.

If he did that, it would confirm the charge, that Jujutsu High teachers and students had risen in rebellion over a verdict they didn't like. Suguru Geto would be nailed to the defector's post forever, with no chance of redemption. Ever.

Toji fished a broken stalk of foxtail grass from his pocket and stuck it between his teeth.

"Old rules. We split up."

He raised a hand and pointed at Satoru Gojo.

"That intelligence network of yours, the Big Three Clans, or whatever you call it — stop letting it sit around collecting dust."

"Dig up every Auxiliary Manager assigned to yesterday's Nagano Prefecture mission. Their families going back 3 generations, while you're at it."

The manic edge in Satoru Gojo's eyes pulled back a notch. His mind started moving again.

"What about the scene?"

"That place has to be locked down by the higher-ups by now."

"I'll go."

Toji rolled his neck. The joints cracked in a long, grinding series that made teeth ache.

"I don't understand all your flashy Cursed Energy residue nonsense."

"But I know how to pull scents, weapons, and footprints that don't belong there straight out of the mud."

Pure professional killer's instinct, paired with a body that left zero Cursed Energy trace.

No one was better suited to return to that scene than him.

Satoru Gojo looked at this man who never stopped talking about "youth", and for the first time, he saw what lived underneath it. A nearly terrifying intuition. The kind of cold, immediate decisiveness that only came from real combat, real crisis, real stakes.

"Fine." Satoru Gojo said.

Masamichi Yaga leaned against the load-bearing wall and waved a hand.

"I'll hold the fort here at Jujutsu High."

"Go. Get to the bottom of this."

Both figures blurred and vanished into the depths of the ruined infirmary.

The night was deep.

Central Tokyo. Top floor of an obscenely luxurious office tower.

This was the hidden stronghold of the Time Vessel Association remnants.

In the spacious conference room, over a dozen men in tailored suits lined both sides of a long table. All senior officers of the Time Vessel Association. Between them, they controlled a vast underground financial network.

At the head of the table, a potbellied middle-aged man held the floor.

"The leader's death is a blow — but it's also a golden opportunity!" The fat man rapped the table, spittle flying. "Those wealthy donors who believed in Master Tengen are in a state of absolute panic right now."

"All we have to do is spin it a little. Call it a divine trial. Donations will double, easily."

A wave of greedy agreement broke out around the table.

"Exactly!"

"That money's just rotting in their hands anyway!"

"If we keep expanding the follower base, we can push into politics..."

BANG!

The heavy mahogany door of the conference room let out a single muffled thud.

The laughter died.

Every officer in the room went still and turned toward the door.

"What are those security guards doing out there?" The fat man frowned. "Go check."

The thin man sitting nearest the door stood and walked over.

He never made it to the handle.

BOOM,

The entire mahogany door blew apart. Frame and all.

Splinters and chunks of stone tore through the conference room like grapeshot.

The thin man didn't even get a scream out. The blast picked him up and sent him crashing onto the conference table. He hit it hard, coughed blood, and went limp.

Dust poured in.

The corridor's cold white light cut through the wreckage and into the room.

In that backlight, a young man in a loose black coat stepped through the debris. Hair bundled into a bun. Unhurried. He walked over the shattered wood like it wasn't there.

Behind him, suspended in the air, was a massive centipede Cursed Spirit. Pitch-black. Radiating a pressure that made the air feel wrong.

"Y-you, who are you?!" The fat officer lurched backward into his chair, face gone white, jabbing a finger at Suguru Geto. "Do you have any idea what this place is?!"

"Security! Where the hell is security?!"

Suguru Geto tilted his head slightly.

His narrow eyes held nothing. Not anger, not amusement, not contempt. He looked at them the way a person looks at a slab of dead meat.

"Security?"

"If you mean that pack of monkeys in black suits outside..."

Suguru Geto raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

SNAP!

A corpse with a twisted neck came sailing in from the corridor, tossed by the Cursed Spirit like a bag of garbage. It rolled across the floor and came to rest at the fat man's feet.

"They've already gone to meet your previous leader."

Suguru Geto stepped over the body and strolled to the far end of the long table. Easy. Unhurried. Like he owned the room, because now he did.

Dead silence.

Over a dozen officers who controlled hundreds of billions in funds sat frozen, none of them daring to breathe too loud.

Suguru Geto pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down with deliberate ease. He folded his hands on the tabletop, smiled, and swept his gaze around the room, taking in each trembling face in turn.

"I'll give you 2 choices."

His voice was perfectly gentle.

"First: hand over all of the Time Vessel Association's funds, connections, and intelligence networks to me. From today onward, you will be dogs at my feet."

He paused.

The smile left his eyes.

"Second: I feed you to the Cursed Spirits right now."

Behind him, the pitch-black Cursed Spirit let out a rasping roar. Its razor-edged legs drove straight through the solid wood desktop in front of the fat man.

A wet stain spread through the fat man's crotch. He nodded violently, voice breaking into a wail.

"We'll hand it over!"

"Everything! We'll hand over everything!"

"Whatever you say!"

Suguru Geto leaned back in his chair and looked at them, all of them, in their full, grotesque humiliation.

Spineless wretches.

This is the first step in building the new world I envision.

"Good." His smile returned, smooth and unhurried. "Then let's start by gathering intelligence on high-grade Cursed Spirits."

➤ Next: The Melted Witness