Jujutsu Kaisen — Chapter 62 - The Worst Cult Leader's Virgin Battle Record
"This... is your great cause?"
Gojo Satoru's question came crashing down on him, carried by a night wind thick with the stench of blood.
Geto Suguru froze.
He looked down at the pile of minced flesh at his feet, what remained of a young mother.
Disgusting.
Utterly disgusting.
He never wanted to see this. Any of this.
All he had ever wanted was a clean world. A world without Cursed Spirits, where Jujutsu Sorcerers didn't have to keep dying for nothing.
But now the scum he had recruited was butchering civilians on the streets under his banner.
Could he admit he was wrong? Could he back down?
Geto Suguru bit down hard on his back teeth. The coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth.
If he denied it now, what was any of it for? The defection, the takeover of the Time Vessel Association, every nauseating Cursed Spirit he had forced himself to swallow?
An arrow loosed cannot be called back.
The path of a great cause is destined to be paved with the bones of monkeys.
He snapped his head up. Forced every trace of struggle and agony back down behind his eyes. What rose to replace it was cold, remote, untouchable.
"That's right."
Geto Suguru spread his arms wide.
His dark-gold kesa robe billowed and snapped in the wind.
In that moment, he was a merciless, demonic Buddha.
"This is my great cause."
He stared directly into Gojo Satoru's eyes. His voice didn't waver. Not even a ripple.
"Monkeys have no right to live, Satoru. All they do is endlessly spawn these disgusting monsters."
"Kill them all. Sever the birth of Cursed Spirits at the root. That is the only correct path. The people who died here tonight are nothing more than offerings — the foundation stones of a new world."
"Geto-senpai!"
A voice cracked the air. Raw. Halfway to a sob.
Yu Haibara's fists were clenched so hard his entire body shook.
He stared at the senior he had once respected above everyone else, the one who always smiled gently and said their purpose was to protect the weak, and tears broke from his eyes.
"You're lying!"
"You weren't like this before! You said Jujutsu Sorcerers exist to protect Non-Sorcerers! How can you — how can you say something like that?!"
Geto Suguru's breath caught.
Yu Haibara's tears cut sharper than any Cursed Tool.
But he couldn't break character.
"People change, Haibara." Geto Suguru let out a cold laugh, his tone curling with contempt. "You're too naive. Someday you'll understand — how utterly foolish it is to keep protecting a pack of monkeys whose only talent is producing garbage."
Gojo Satoru said nothing.
Hands in his pockets, he watched Geto Suguru perform.
Keep going.
Keep faking.
Gojo Satoru sneered, somewhere behind his eyes.
This guy's acting was absolutely terrible. His fingers were trembling, for god's sake, and he was still out here playing demon king.
Gojo Satoru raised his right hand. His index finger hooked the edge of his sunglasses and slowly dragged them down.
His pale-blue Six Eyes opened fully to the night air.
The highest configuration in the Jujutsu World. The most merciless analytical machine in existence.
His gaze swept the entire ruined commercial street. A torrent of information disassembled and reassembled inside his brain in an instant.
"Pfft."
A laugh escaped him.
It started small. Then it got louder. Then he was bent over at the waist, one finger pointing at Geto Suguru, laughing so hard he couldn't straighten up.
Geto Suguru's brow locked tight. His pupils contracted. "What are you laughing at?"
"Suguru." Gojo Satoru straightened up. "You think I've gone blind?"
He tossed his sunglasses aside without looking where they landed.
Two long strides forward. He pointed at the carpet of severed limbs and shattered bone around them, then pointed at his own eyes.
"The Six Eyes see through everything."
"Every drop of blood on this street. Every trace of destruction. All of it came from that ugly eyeball-covered thing over there."
Gojo Satoru's long eyes narrowed slightly. His tone was the particular flavor of mockery that made people want to throw a punch.
"I looked at this entire block. Aside from the crater you made when you landed, there is not one single trace of attack residue in this area that belongs to you."
Geto Suguru's breath seized.
"Running your mouth about killing every ordinary person under heaven, loading every charge onto yourself — and the result?"
Gojo Satoru spread both hands wide. Loud enough for the whole street to hear.
"You haven't even stepped on a single ant."
"A man with completely clean hands standing here playing apocalyptic mass murderer for me?"
Dead silence.
The cold mask on Geto Suguru's face shattered all at once.
That bastard.
Humiliation and shame detonated straight to the top of his skull. His face was burning so hot he thought the skin might actually catch fire.
He had painstakingly fortified his resolve. He had assembled the full posture of a world-ending cult leader. And Gojo Satoru had stripped the whole thing bare with one sentence, not even leaving him the dignity of his underwear.
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
A roar of laughter exploded from nearby, loud enough to shake the street.
Toji Fushiguro slapped his thigh so hard the crack echoed. Tears were pressing at the corners of his eyes.
He pointed at Geto Suguru's blazing-red face and laughed until he could barely breathe.
"I knew it! I knew it — deep down in your bones, you never let go of youth!"
Toji strode forward, threw an arm around Yu Haibara's shoulders, and shook him hard.
"You see that, Haibara?! This kid doesn't even dare kill an ant, and he still ran out here to take the blame himself! This is what we call a severe case of adolescent rebellion!"
Yu Haibara went blank.
He forgot to wipe his tears. He just stared at Geto Suguru.
"Shut up! Toji Fushiguro!"
Every card stripped, every layer exposed, Geto Suguru erupted.
He roared with a rage born equal parts fury and shame. Dark-gold Cursed Energy surged violently around him. The Rainbow Dragon beneath him felt its master's emotion and answered with a deafening howl.
"My followers did it! What difference is there from my own will?!" Geto Suguru planted his feet and argued back, stiff-necked as a dead duck that refuses to drop.
"Cut the crap."
Gojo Satoru cut him off without mercy.
"When you landed just now, you were trying to save that mother and daughter. Weren't you." It wasn't a question. "You can fool everyone else. Can you fool my Six Eyes?"
Geto Suguru had nothing.
The atmosphere curdled into something strange and airless.
And in that bizarre silence, the scar-faced man who had been standing ignored on the sidelines finally snapped back to reality.
The brain that Sukuna's Finger had half-burned out couldn't follow any of it, Six Eyes, attack residue, none of it meant a thing to him.
What he understood was simpler. These high school lackeys had appeared out of nowhere, and they were laughing at the Time Vessel Association.
"Lord Geto!"
The scar-faced man's massive body lunged forward. The ground shook under the impact.
The dense constellation of eyeballs covering his body spun into a frenzy, every one of them locking onto Gojo Satoru. A piercing shriek tore from his throat.
"Why waste words on these high school dogs?! They don't understand our great cause, rush them, all at once!"
The scar-faced man stretched his huge, fang-crammed maw wide open. Black-red Cursed Energy churned and coalesced at his chest.
"I'm Special Grade now! Who the hell does Gojo Satoru think he is?! Watch me twist his head off and use it as a kickball!"
The smile left Gojo Satoru's face.
Frost settled over his pale-blue eyes.
He didn't turn around. He barely moved, just tilted his face slightly to the side.
His gaze passed over Geto Suguru and came to rest on the three-meter monstrosity behind him.
"Did anyone say you could speak here, trash."
Flat. Utterly flat. And yet it pressed down on the whole street like a physical weight.
The scar-faced man blinked. Then he detonated.
Sukuna's Cursed Energy had bloated him past every limit. He bellowed and swung his massive bone-spiked arm in a wide arc, a sonic boom trailing in its wake, straight at the back of Gojo Satoru's skull.
"Look out!" Yu Haibara shouted.
Gojo Satoru didn't lift a foot.
He stayed exactly where he was. His right hand rose. Index finger crossed over middle finger, forming a strange hand seal.
Eight words. Completely indifferent.
"Domain Expansion."
"Unlimited Void."
BZZZZ!
The scar-faced man had no time to react.
The world changed.
The blood-soaked street was gone.
The ruined buildings were gone.
In their place: a cosmos. Vast, boundless, without end or edge.
Countless stars detonated and reassembled in front of his eyes.
An infinite torrent of information turned solid, forced itself through every optic nerve and sensory organ simultaneously, flooding his brain all at once.
No up. No down.
No left. No right.
Only information. Pure. Infinite. Endless.
He could see everything. He could feel everything.
And precisely because he could feel everything, he could do nothing.
In 0.01 seconds, every cell in the scar-faced man's brain overloaded and burned out.
The eyeballs covering his body burst one by one. Thick black blood wept from each empty socket.
He couldn't even scream. His consciousness had already been churned by that starfield into something with no shape and no logic at all.
Gojo Satoru lowered his hand.
The domain collapsed.
The street came back.
He walked over to where the scar-faced man stood rigid and frozen.
No flashy technique. No ceremony. Gojo Satoru simply reached out and wrapped his hand around that massive, eyeball-studded skull.
One hand. One motion.
CRACK!
He ripped the head free, vertebrae and all.
A column of black-red blood blasted skyward.
The three-meter headless corpse hit the ground like a falling wall. Blood and filth splashed up in a wide, stinking wave.
Gojo Satoru dropped the head at his feet like a bag of trash.
Silence.
Nothing moved. Nothing spoke.
Only the wind, threading through the ruins.
Yu Haibara's mouth hung open. His jaw was halfway to the ground.
Instant kill?
That Special Grade monster, the one radiating terror pressure, the one that had slaughtered an entire street, just... died?
Geto Suguru stared at Gojo Satoru. The corner of his eye wouldn't stop twitching.
A domain.
He had already mastered a domain.
Geto Suguru knew exactly what that meant.
The absolute pinnacle of Jujutsu combat. And at this age, Satoru had already touched it, that unreachable realm where victory was simply a given.
The distance between them was, in this moment, rendered in brutal and concrete terms.
"You..." Geto Suguru's throat worked. His voice came out dry and tight. "You've already learned Domain Expansion?"
Gojo Satoru didn't answer.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and unhurriedly cleaned the blood from his fingers.
Once satisfied, he dropped the handkerchief without looking at it.
Then he turned his head and looked at Toji Fushiguro.
Their eyes met.
No words. No signal.
Both of them rolled their necks at the exact same moment.
Crack. Crack.
Clean and crisp in the night silence.
Toji closed his fist slowly, knuckles popping one by one. The grin spreading across his face was no longer the laughing kind.
Gojo Satoru put his hands back in his pockets. He stretched out his long legs and walked toward Geto Suguru. One step at a time.
Geto Suguru's scalp prickled.
The fake coldness and the fresh shock both evaporated at once, replaced by something more immediate, a sharp, flooding sense of danger.
He took half a step back without meaning to.
The Rainbow Dragon behind him rumbled a warning, and then caught a single look from Toji and shrank straight back into the shadows.
"You two..." Geto Suguru swallowed. He held the posture of a cult leader through sheer willpower. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"
Gojo Satoru stopped half a meter in front of him. Looking down.
Toji moved to his flank, cutting off every line of retreat.
One on the left. One on the right. Two mountains with no way through or over.
Then, in perfect unison, they opened their mouths.
Their voices hit hard enough to rattle the glass in every shopfront on the street.
"What do we think we're doing?"
"Beating the crap out of you, obviously."
➤ Next: The Iron Fist of Youth and the Grand Cause Cruelly Torn Apart