Jujutsu Kaisen — Chapter 52 - The Lost Man and the Tyrant Who Came Home

Satoru Gojo tilted his head back and stared up at the overcast sky.

He knew exactly what it meant.

Suguru hadn't blocked him. His phone wasn't off. He just didn't want to pick up.

The exoneration handed down by Jujutsu Headquarters meant absolutely nothing to Suguru Geto now.

That guy didn't give a damn about clearing his name. He had already abandoned this rotten world entirely to build that insane utopia where only sorcerers belonged.

"Satoru, wipe that look off your face!" Toji Fushiguro strode out of the convenience store with long, swinging steps and tossed a sports drink over in a smooth arc.

"It's precisely at times like these that you cannot let the flame in your heart go out! The body's energy is the fuel of the spirit!"

Satoru Gojo caught it. The ice-cold liquid settled his churning thoughts a little.

"I was just thinking," Satoru Gojo pulled the tab.

"If I'd started smashing those old bastards with my fists sooner, the way you did, maybe Suguru wouldn't have ended up here."

"'If'... huh?" Toji's voice dropped into an uncharacteristic quiet for a single beat, then reignited.

"Wallowing in things the past can't change — that only dulls the brilliance of youth! That kid... Suguru, he lost his way forward. That's where we failed him, as his best friend and his teacher."

He clenched his fist hard. His knuckles cracked.

"But, Satoru! Precisely because of that, we have to pour everything we've got into fixing this mistake! We'll use our sweat and our fists to show him: running away and giving up are never the answer!"

He thumped his chest, a deep resonant sound.

"Come to think of it, the two of us are pretty famous now! Just now I overheard a few Assistant Supervisors having quite the enthusiastic discussion in the corner.

"They're calling you the 'Chosen One' and me the 'Tyrant'! Ohh! What titles! This is proof that our youth is burning at full blaze, haha!"

"Personally, though, I still think 'The Jujutsu World's Aloof Azure Wild Beast' sounds way cooler!"

Satoru Gojo tugged at the corner of his mouth but said nothing.

The Chosen One. He couldn't even hold on to his one and only best friend. What kind of Chosen One was that?

...

Tokyo. Outside the Fushiguro household.

Toji crouched by the little drainage ditch at the front door, turned on the tap, and scrubbed half a bar of soap over his hands with grinding intensity.

Cold water rushed through his fingers, carrying away ring after ring of white lather.

He brought his hands up to his nose and sniffed.

No good. There was still a faint trace of blood.

That kid Megumi had a nose like a dog. He could pick up even the slightest off scent.

Toji sighed, squeezed out another huge glob of hand soap, and worked it from his wrists down to his nail beds. He kept scrubbing until the skin on the backs of his hands was raw and red. Only when he was certain he couldn't smell a trace of anything did he finally stand up.

He drew a slow breath and shoved the violent, cold-blooded killing intent from the Kyoto massacre back down into the depths of his chest.

The muscles in his face loosened. They rearranged themselves into Might Toji's signature grin.

He passed through the defensive barrier Masamichi Yaga had provided and shouldered the door open.

"Papa's home! Did you miss my youth-infused embrace?!"

The living room light was on.

Tsumiki and Megumi hadn't gone back to their room to sleep.

Two small figures sat bolt upright on the sofa, like a pair of watchful cats.

The moment they saw him standing in the doorway, completely unharmed, both of them exhaled at almost exactly the same time.

Megumi came running over on his short little legs, barefoot.

He didn't dodge Toji's arms with his usual disdain. Instead, he tilted his head back and fixed Toji's face with an intensely scrutinizing stare.

"Dad, that 'big thing' you mentioned, is it done?" Megumi furrowed his small brow. His nose twitched. "You smell... really tired."

Toji paused.

He had washed every trace of blood off. He'd even changed into a fresh set of clothes on the way back.

But this kid hadn't smelled blood. He'd smelled exhaustion.

Toji's nose stung. So this is what coming home means.

He scooped his son up in one motion, settled him onto his shoulders, and strode over to the sofa. He set Megumi back down beside Tsumiki, then casually picked up the teapot from the table and poured her a cup of hot tea. Then he dropped himself down onto the carpet cross-legged.

He looked at the worry on their faces and knew he couldn't brush this off.

"All done." Toji pitched his voice like he was narrating a fairy tale, hands gesturing wildly in the air.

"Those bad old men hiding in the basement doing bad things, Papa and big brother Satoru gave them a thorough beating with the iron fists of justice! They cried and wailed and swore they'd never dare do it again!"

Tsumiki cradled her teacup and asked in a small voice, "Then... what about big brother Suguru Geto? He doesn't have to be taken away anymore?"

"Nope! His innocence is as spotless as a freshly laundered white shirt!" Toji gave her a thumbs-up.

Megumi, however, latched straight onto the part that mattered. "Then why didn't he come back with you?"

The smile at the corner of Toji's mouth faltered.

He looked into his son's stubborn eyes, and his throat went dry.

"Because..." Toji scratched the back of his head, his voice dropping. "Your big brother Suguru Geto, he ran in the wrong direction on the track of youth. He got lost."

"Got lost?" Megumi didn't quite understand the phrase in this context.

"He got lost. So just go find him and bring him back, right? Uncle Satoru is so strong, he can just fly over and grab him."

That simple, guileless question hit Toji like a sledgehammer to the chest.

Yeah. Just go find him and bring him back.

Such simple logic.

Toji ruffled Megumi's sea-urchin hair hard, let out a rare sigh, and when he spoke, his voice carried the tired weight of someone who had lived too much.

"Yeah... but sometimes, the person who's lost doesn't want to be found. He thinks the path he's walking is the right one. He wants to reach the end on his own, even if that path leads straight off a cliff."

He looked at Megumi's half-understanding expression and the corner of his mouth twitched. "That's adult stubbornness. Not youthful at all. Not cool at all. Right?"

The living room went quiet.

Tsumiki watched Toji with worried eyes. She could feel it. The usual Papa never wore an expression like this.

He couldn't let this mood infect the kids.

Toji's gaze sharpened. He launched himself up from the carpet in one explosive motion.

He planted his hands on his hips, threw his head back, and let out two booming laughs, flashing a mouthful of white teeth that gleamed under the light.

In an instant, he snapped back into that unhinged, hot-blooded dad.

"But don't you worry!" He bellowed loud enough to make the window glass hum.

"No matter how other people get lost, Papa will absolutely never stray from the path of protecting you two! Even if the road ahead is a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, Papa will use these fists to smash open a sunlit highway for you!"

He spun and charged into the kitchen, came back out with a steaming clay pot, and slammed it onto the dining table with a BANG.

"Come on! To celebrate Papa's safe return — and to celebrate us finally getting a good night's sleep — tonight we're having sukiyaki! All the meat you can eat!"

Megumi and Tsumiki both flinched at his sudden burst of manic energy, then looked at each other.

Tsumiki covered her mouth and giggled. Megumi kept his face straight, but the corner of his mouth crept upward anyway.

Toji picked up a bowl, ladled it full to the brim with freshly made miso soup, and raised it high.

"To our wonderful family, bottoms up!"

He tilted his head back and downed the scalding miso soup in one go.

➤ Next: Severing Bonds — What Was Lost