Juchu Kaisen - 47 (Version 2)

New content after the line where they leave Fushiguro at the hospital. The birthday was cut from this chapter as well. I might do something else with it.

And no, you'll miss a lot if you skip reading this. Trust me, it's all new stuff, you won't regret reading it.

---

Chapter 47

“Argh! Screw this!”

Gojo slammed his burger down on his tray, disturbing all the other patrons of the fast food restaurant in the meanwhile. The rest of us paused eating our own meals to look up at the white-haired dolt who had chosen to throw a tantrum at the weirdest time.

“I can’t take it anymore. Teira,” Gojo said. “You…” he finally realized where he was, and lowered his volume. “Why didn’t you just kill that disgusting bastard?”

“Don’t bring killing up so lightly,” Suguru said, his voice almost quivering. The day had disturbed him, clearly. Shoko said nothing.

“Did you hear him?” Gojo hissed at Suguru. Then he turned to me. “Was any of that true? Him… doing all that to you?”

I grinned. “You’re being uncharacteristically gentlemanly, Gojo.”

“Screw that,” he hissed. “No. Seriously. Screw that. If you’re not gonna take it seriously, then screw you too, Teira. This isn’t a joke.”

Shoko and Suguru remained quiet.

And I felt… uncharacteristically sorry for showing them all of this.

“And if it was?” I asked.

“Then you should have just,” he stopped. He took off his shades and glared at me with those vivid blue eyes of his.

“Do you want my answer?” I asked Gojo.

“Yes.”

I raised my index finger. “Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”

Instantly, a veil was cast around us. From the outside, it would appear as though there were three high schoolers eating burgers with a historical reenactor: myself.

I took off my glasses and relaxed my hold over my skin tone, allowing my skin to revert to its monstrous pallor.

Then I summoned a gourd of sake from a portal, and poured it into my plastic cup of soda.

“Hmm!” Shoko made an appreciative noise as she proffered her own cup. I filled hers as well.

Suguru sighed and proffered his own cup.

“You don’t have to,” I said to him.

“I’d prefer to, given the topic of discussion,” he muttered. “I feel awful.”

A moody teenager feeling awful, and alcohol to soothe him…

“I’m not your mother,” I shrugged as I filled his cup.

After I was done, Gojo snatched the gourd from my hand and filled his own cup. “We’ve been playing hooky from registration anyway,” he said, “so this can’t be any worse.”

After he was done, I took the cup and disappeared it into Michiko’s space.

“I’m not a kind person,” I said as I took a sip of the soda. “Unlike you, I prefer to play with my food.” I picked up a fry, tossed it in the air, and bit it, grinning. I scarfed it down. “It wasn’t mercy that compelled me to keep Toji alive. It was spite. Though in my head, I pictured that he would continue to live in indignity for the rest of his days. The fact that he managed to better himself was outside of my expectations. But now that he has, I can no longer continue to bully him. It’s a shame, but I do have standards.”

Suguru took a sip of his soda, winced, and pushed it away. Shoko took a happier sip of hers, and Gojo drank his without flinching.

“I think I might hate you, Teira,” Gojo said.

I grinned. “Happy days.”

“And not in the way you might be thinking,” he said. “I hate how casual you are about your suffering.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come now—“

“Me, too,” Shoko said. “But… actually, I was going to say that I had gotten used to it, but I really haven’t. At all.”

“Why does it matter?” I said. “It’s not your suffering.”

“Not my suffering? Is that what you just said?”

“Uh… yeah. It’s not.”

After taking a long swig of her spiked soda, Shoko threw her drink in my face.

She then calmly continued eating her burger.

As the liquid soaked into my clothes, I felt a shock of outrage. “What the fuck, Shoko?!” To that, she said nothing, except remove her jacket and drape it over my chest. “Oh wow, how nice of you,” I growled.

“Just shut up already,” Shoko muttered. “You’ve stepped over a line.”

“A line?!”

She slammed her fist into the table, rattling the trays on it. She then turned to me with a tearful glare. “Yeah! It’s not my suffering? Who decided that?!”

I grinned. “Ah, right. Sympathy. And when did I ask for that?”

“If I had another drink…” Shoko said.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed shrilly.

“Never!” she screamed right back.

Suguru’s eyes widened, and he sipped quietly from his cup of soda. Gojo did exactly the same.

“Dammit, Teira!” She shouted. “You brought us into this for one reason, and you know it! You did it because you wanted us to share this burden of yours. Your life has been painful, and no one’s denying that.”

A part of me had wanted this to be revealed only so they could better understand my life. That didn’t mean that I wanted this to be some kind of sob-fest!

“Shoko—!” I shouted, but she interrupted me.

“But you said we were friends!” She shouted. “Moreover, you’re the closest friend I have!”

What?

“So don’t just shrug us off like we don’t get to feel what you’re feeling every waking moment! Don’t tell us that we don’t have the right to feel what you’re feeling, alright?! Cuz it’s pissing me off!”

I turned away from her, like that would do anything. I could still see her, no matter where I looked. My eyes were just props. And her intense gaze was like lasers, burning me with every second.

And to make matters worse, Gojo and Suguru still refused to say anything at all.

And dammit, I feel sticky!

I re-summoned the gourd and took a deep swig from it. I sighed as I put it down.

“I have killed more people then you’ve met,” I said. “All of you. And I didn’t just kill them. No.” I summoned a Juchū on my finger. “I used these to scour their flesh, leaving nothing but bones. I killed uncles. Cousins. All the sorcerers in my clan, even.” I dispelled the Juchū. “And I enjoyed it, by the way. I took pleasure from their demise. I feel everything my Juchū feels, which means I actually felt myself eating them. Eating their souls, even, because that’s how my technique works.”

“And?” Shoko asked.

“And?” I echoed. “Maybe that’s too much for you to fathom—”

“I don’t care,” Shoko said. “All I care about is how much emotional distance you’re putting between us, like we should treat you like some kind of stranger. And it pisses me off!”

“I’m wet and sticky,” I said to her.

“And what?”

“And what?!” I roared. “Well, I don’t like it! That’s what! I don’t like it when bitchy teenagers pour drinks on my head! I don’t care for it!”

“You started it,” Shoko muttered.

“You should have just punched me instead,” I said. “This? I didn’t like this at all. I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I did not like this at all.”

“Is it humiliating?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“I don’t think there’s a more humiliating thing in the world,” Shoko said, “than being denied the right to suffer alongside a friend. It feels like a betrayal. It feels like we’re not even friends.”

“Fine, then I’m sorry! But you still didn’t have to—“ I stopped.

Were we… fighting?

I didn’t want that.

She took her cup of spiked soda and dumped it over her head. “There. Now we’re both drenched.”

“This is getting out of hand,” Suguru muttered. Gojo was holding back his laughter. He picked up his own drink and Suguru swatted his hand. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’ve lived a rough life,” I said. “But I don’t need anyone to blow it out of proportions just because they feel bad for me. And if I’m casual about my suffering, it’s because I don’t want to dwell on it any more than necessary. This, I won’t budge on. If you can’t handle that, then cry.”

Maybe that wasn’t the right conclusion to come to, after they had just told me how strong their sympathy was for me. Owing to that, I should be taking it easier on them, but how fair was that?

This whole argument was just esoteric nonsense anyhow. I had no clue what the hell would set Shoko off to this extent.

Gojo nodded sagely.

“You know, one time, when I was a kid,” he began quietly. “I asked my servant to buy me a Pokemon game. He brought back a Wario game instead. Wario.” He shuddered. “It wasn’t even close to what I wanted.”

I splashed him with my drink.

Shoko did the same a second later.

“You know, Shoko and I have a change of clothes, right?” I asked Gojo.

“Huh?”

“We can just change out of these,” I said to him. “Are you gonna head back to Jujutsu High stinking of booze and soda?”

“Hmm,” Gojo rested his elbows on the table, and his head on his hands. “I didn’t think this through.”

“Do you usually?” Suguru asked.

“Let’s go shopping!”

“Are there clothing stores open this late?” Shoko asked. “Or do you just do all your shopping through servants anyway?”

“Uh…” Gojo’s excitement fell. “Karaoke?”

“I’m tired,” Shoko said.

“I could use some sleep as well,” Suguru said. “And I feel a little sick from the… soda.”

Gojo didn’t seem too hot, either. His cursed energy surged and bulged erratically, as did his Infinity. Inebriation was heavily impacting his perfect atomic-level control over his cursed energy, clearly.

“We could do a couple of songs,” I said, all the while intending to continue spiking Gojo just to see how far his control would deteriorate.

“Urgh,” Shoko shook her head. “If anyone else was suggesting this, I’d tell them to go to hell. But I wanna see you sing.”

“I guess I can just swallow my vomit,” Suguru said.

“Good man,” Gojo clapped him on his shoulder.

000

“In other words…. Please be true! In others, I… love…. Du, du, du, you!”

“Very good!” Shoko crooned in heavily accented English, clapping her hands. Suguru was unconscious on the couch while Gojo was swaying on his feet, which he called dancing.

“Alright, let’s wrap it up,” I said. “We’re going back to the hospital.”

“Oh my god,” Shoko muttered.

“Sober up,” I told her.

“Sober…?” Gojo asked. “How…?”

“The Reverse Cursed Technique, idiot,” I said to him. “Oh wait—you can’t control your energy worth a damn anymore! Shame!”

He clenched his fists and took on a constipated expression as he tried clumsily to spark the energetic reaction necessary to run the Reverse Cursed Technique, failing every time. Even if he succeeded, he’d still need to work on enforcing the right bioprocesses, or failing that, bleed out over a sink to get rid of the tainted blood.

Shoko was doing far better than Gojo was. She had been subtly working on not getting too drunk using the Reverse Cursed Technique, which made her far better off than Gojo, who seemed to continuously fail at this.

“You can sleep it off somewhere,” I said to Gojo. “Michiko!”

Two portals appeared, swallowing Gojo and Suguru into her innate domain where some extra beds had been prepared.

“We shouldn’t have partied,” Shoko muttered. “I was supposed to be totally fresh for Yumeko.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “We’ll only be working on the tumor today. Depending on how things go, we can be done in one go.”

000

We did. All Shoko had needed to do was enforce and heal the healthy regions intertwined with the cancer tissue as my tiny Juchū scoured everything and broke it down into tiny enough fragments that Yumeko’s body was well capable of filtering them as waste material.

And we had both learned much from our first attempt, which made the second one far faster and more efficient. By the time the clock struck six, Yumeko was entirely cancer free.

Toji, who was sleeping on a chair on the corner of the room, stirred awake when I called on him. “It’s done.”

“Really?” Toji asked, hope in his eyes.

“Have the non-sorcerers look her over,” Shoko said. “We might have missed something. But from everything I can sense, she’s more or less cured.”

“Thank you, Hibana, Ieiri-kun. Thank you.” He bowed at his waist.

“We still have her cursed technique to worry about,” I said. “But at the moment, you know as much as we do. We’ll swing by with Gojo to help her figure out how to control it. Call me if some other misfortune pops up before then.”

“I will. Thank you.”

His son was sleeping on another chair in the fetal position. Even this early on in his life, I could tell that he had a fair bit of cursed energy capacity to look forward to in the future. “Your son. He’s got potential.”

Toji didn’t look proud of that. “I know.”

With that bit of small talk utterly failing, I saw no reason to stick around. “Until next time, Fushiguro.”

000

Gojo clutched his stomach as though he had been poisoned by the three cartons of cold brew on his desk. You didn’t even need super senses to hear the inner workings of his digestive system working overtime to make sense of what to do with all the liquor and coffee swimming about.

His usual fair skin was tinged with blue.

Suguru, on the desk next to him, was hunched over on his desk, looking like a human on the verge of turning into a zombie. His features were expressionless and sloth-like in their slow movements.

“The hell’s gotten into those two?”

Suzuki hung around Shoko and I’s desk, sitting on the edge of Takahashi’s, who was a row behind us.

“And where were you two during registration yesterday?” Suzuki continued. “Mission?”

“We’re not supposed to work after sleeping hours,” Takahashi said. “Not students, at least.”

Jujutsu Society could now afford to implement such policies to save children from needless risk, but it hadn’t always been this way.

Nor would it always continue to be this way. Still, the pressure of the evolution of cursed spirits weighed on the back of my mind without end. Still, the question of whether or not to push harder, to risk the status quo, continued to stay awkwardly in the back of my mind, like a starving white elephant.

Gojo stood up, made a hand-gesture, and disappeared entirely, having teleported to the bathroom. Poor guy.

“Just out and about…” Shoko muttered, also feeling a little under the whether from the various different hangover symptoms that she was using the Reverse Cursed Technique on as she replenished her stores. She was already running worrisomely low on energy after healing Yumeko, and had little to spend on herself.

Still, she was doing far better than Geto and Gojo.

“Curing cancer,” I said.

Suzuki scoffed at me. “You don’t have to be sarcastic, boss.”

Shoko giggled.

“But speaking of missions,” I said. “How do you all feel about them?” I grinned at Ito, who was busy trying to look like she was busy reading. Outside of combat, she was a nervous wreck. I couldn’t fathom why. What did she have to fear in a world like this, where skill was heavily intertwined with social capital? “I know you must be excited, Ito.”

She looked up at me from her book and nodded. “Ye-yes… I am.”

“I just hope my supervisor lets me fight,” Suzuki sighed. “You think they might try and grandstand because they’re our senpais?”

“And is that so wrong?” Takahashi asked. “I’d rather be humbled by the skill of my superior than die cocky. I’m far too young to die, you know.” She looked forlorn as she whispered. “I’ve never even gone out with a boy.”

I was about to say ‘me neither’, but that wasn’t really true at all. At that, I remembered Brian.

And I hoped that he had made it out alive.

Shoko hummed at that. “So dying can wait until after you’ve done that.”

“Ideally!”

“Best to never go on a date then,” Shoko said. “That way, you’ll give it your all not to die.”

Takahashi blinked. “I never thought of it like that!”

“Better make it a Binding Vow too,” I said. “Might help you out.”

Takahashi shook her head. “Nu-uh. No way. Yaga-sensei was explicit when he told us not to even think about using Binding Vows at our level.”

There was an interesting sweet spot in proficiency, between not having the guts to risk it all, to having the resolve to do so, but not the skill to make that count, to then having the skill, but too much ego to ever do such a thing lightly.

A mid-level sorcerer at Grade Three or Semi-Grade Two fell into the second category, and throughout the years, many of them gambled their future potential and power on ill-fated gambits.

Most of those gambits also just didn’t pay off, because to multiply something to a high number, you needed a high base to start with.

I approved of Takahashi’s caution. There was nothing wrong with being a little cowardly if you were weak.

“That’s your level,” Suzuki said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong—I know I’m not top-tier or anything, but I’ve got some ideas. Hibana—“

“It’s Teira,” I said with slight exasperation.

“Boss, then. How about this? For every step I take during the day… I get a one in ten thousandth of a percentage of extra output?”

“That’s… incredibly boring.”

“Wha—what gives?”

I smirked. “No, I meant that as advice—it’s boring.” I pulled a bottle from inside my haori and drank from it quickly. Shoko wretched at the sight. “Binding Vows aren’t really a science, but an art. As long as it’s not boring, you’ll get more bang for your buck. Get it? I’m not giving you my personal opinion here. This is just how jujutsu works.” Then I shrugged. “Or not. Honestly, you shouldn’t be asking me. I’m not a master of Jujutsu—just the strongest there is, on the entire planet, bar none.”

Which was depressing, because I still felt like I had a ways to go. So many frontiers to explore. So many power interactions to experience.

Suzuki looked at me flatly. “So, what? That means everyone else is a chump?”

“Yes. Try again.”

“Okay. I won’t use my Cursed Technique against anything that’s lower than my Grade.”

“Not boring,” I nodded. “But—rather destructive, and it may cost people their lives. Which is, strictly speaking, a part of the magic. I won’t judge you for using it, but I’m just warning you of the consequences. Unless you can beat every cursed spirit that’s Semi-Grade Two and lower without difficulty, you’ll just put extra pressure on your allies, and put more civilian lives at risk.”

“Oh,” Suzuki let her arms dangle in front of her.

“As long as you have the will to take that risk, I’m sure you’ll be rewarded.”

Shoko chuckled. “I’m beginning to see why Yaga-sensei told us not to use Binding Vows just yet.”

“Yep,” I said. “The ones that hobble you carry a human cost as well. It’s an ethical dilemma. On the bright side, you can break the vow and only lose the power you gained from it. Though some research suggests that any subsequent contract will be weaker than it otherwise would have been, so it’s not a breach that should be taken lightly.”

Suzuki nodded numbly.

I continued. “If you have a cursed technique, you’re luckier than most, however. You can try playing around with the rules of it a little. Restrict it in some places in order to make it stronger in others. In order to do that, however, you need to have a good mastery over your technique. My advice? Listen to Yaga-sensei.”

Ito and Takahashi nodded, and Suzuki clenched her fists in disappointment.

Nakamura walked up to Geto’s seat and threw an arm around his shoulder. “Boy, you look rough. You good, man? Should I get you a drink or something?”

“Lemon soda,” Suguru whispered.

Nakamura clapped him on his shoulder, causing him to gasp. “Sure thing, homeboy. Might wanna head to the infirmary and sleep it off. Tell ‘em your sick or something, and not hungover as fuck, hahah,” Nakamura laughed as he left the room, leaving Suguru to whimper at being exposed.

“What?!” Suzuki hissed.

Yaga-sensei entered the room, dragging Nakamura in by the scruff of his jacket. “Homeroom time! Where’s Gojo?!”

“In the bathroom!” I announced. Currently dying. I filtered his… noises out.

“Damn him—couldn’t he just find time for that?” Yaga grumbled. “Screw it. He’ll have someone else fill him in. It’s finally time for the Disciplinary Committee members to be decided. If you’re interested in the position, check in with your class reps. Also—Geto Suguru.”

Suguru straightened abruptly.

“The Secret Council wants to speak to you,” Yaga-sensei said. “Meet with them during the free period. Third period.”

“Anything else?” Nakamura asked, straightening and finally pulling away from Yaga’s merciless grab. “Or are you just gonna keep handling me like some kitten, teach? Don’t I have rights?!”

“Meet me for extra lessons after school,” Yaga said.

“Ain’t that favoritism?” Nakamura asked, grinning. “Ah, I know. It’s cuz you think I’m the hottest, coldest damn sorcerer this school’s ever seen.”

“No, it’s because I want to punish you, and I have the free-time to administer that punishment,” Yaga-sensei said matter-of-factly. “For mouthing off, and for ditching homeroom, seemingly on purpose. Don’t worry, Nakamura-kun. I’ll straighten that rebellious streak of yours out.”

Nakamura gaped at him. “No fair!”

Yaga then left the room, abruptly as always.

“Shoko,” I said. “Can I be in the Disciplinary Committee?”

“Kobayashi?” Shoko asked. He was seated next to the window as usual.

“That is fine,” Kobayashi said.

Great.

000

During the beginning of the free period, Shoko and I were swinging next to each other on a swing set while Gojo was a few feet away, trying to balance on some wooden cylinders. Suguru had one foot on a spring horse, looking unsure.

“I knew Grade One was bullshit,” Gojo said. “Provisional or not—you’re Special Grade and they know it. They probably just wanna test you out or something.”

“I’m not Special Grade,” Suguru said. “And… I do mean that. My innate technique is strong—“

“So you have a ways to go! So what?” Gojo blew a raspberry. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“Be that as it may,” Suguru continued. “They want me to prove myself. I’ll take their call, of course, but I don’t think they’re just bringing me in to congratulate me. I did hold out on them.”

“So what?” Gojo asked.

“They’re the authority of Jujutsu Society,” Suguru argued lamely, looking up at the sky. He shielded his eyes from the sun, still a little photosensitive. “And I did something… not illegal, but… unlawful? I failed to cooperate. That’s not something that can be forgiven easily.”

Gojo looked at me, awestruck. “Will you tell him or will I?”

I hummed. “Suguru—I know this doesn’t really need to be mentioned at all, but you really shouldn’t capitulate to any of their demands. Or even admit any fault whatsoever. Were I in your shoes, then I wouldn’t do that. It’s the place of a weak-minded follower to get hung up on how exercising one’s own bottom line might come into conflict with some greater authority.”

“In other words,” Gojo continued. “Who gives a damn? Teira and I are the strongest. We won’t really stand for anything you disagree with. And if it’s your family you’re worried about, I’m sure Teira could just send some of her bugs to take care of them.”

“Huh?” Suguru asked, shocked. “You mean, my family might be in danger?”

“No!” Gojo grinned, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m—I’m sure they’re not! They wouldn’t go that far,” he trailed off at the end.

“Neither of you need to worry—I’ve been on it for some time now,” I said. In Suguru’s case, ever since we became friends, and in Shoko’s case, ever since I discovered her Reverse Cursed Technique.

“What about my mom?” Shoko snorted.

“Her, too,” I said. She grinned incredulously at me, and I just shrugged. “Thought I’d cover all bases is all.”

“Look,” Gojo walked up to Suguru and put a hand on his shoulder. “Listen—my man. At the end of the day, they’re not above you.”

“Structure is important,” Suguru stressed.

I scoffed. “Gojo, don’t bother. Just let him talk to them. He’ll know what to do.”

Suguru nodded to me. “Thank you. It’s just…” he turned to Gojo. “I don’t want to just be a child following my whims. I want to be of use. I see no reason to rebel against Jujutsu Society.”

I coughed, “male privilege.” Shoko giggled slightly at that.

“As far as I see it, it’s a flawed institution,” Suguru went on, “but the work itself is important. Do you disagree?”

“Oh, yeah—and is the sky blue?” Gojo asked. “Is water wet? What does that have to do with agreeing with those old fossils? You know what? Nevermind—go be their lapdog, see if I care.”

“You’re impossible, Gojo.”

I, for one, quite enjoyed their little spat. 

Suguru left.

Then Shoko raised a hand. “But I mean, to be fair—I also haven’t really been given a good reason to rebel, either. Outside of all your horror stories of creepy old men and whatnot.”

I hummed. “I have an upcoming meeting with some minor clan heads in a couple of days. You can sit in with me, Shoko.”

“Urgh!”

“No,” I said, my tone brokering no argument. “You provoked me. You’re coming with.”

Gojo chuckled, pointing at Shoko as he did. “Enjoy the politicking, newbie.”

000

Geto Suguru found the chamber of the Secret Council to be exceptionally creepy.

That was, however, a running theme when it came to the world of Jujutsu. Things were creepy—one just had to deal with them.

He sat in seiza in the middle of six wooden rectangles, dimly lit with an orange glow.

“Geto Suguru,” an unseen voice addressed him. “You lied to us.”

The accusation sent a shock through his chest.

He felt like a little child as he shrunk into himself, still seated in seiza, waiting for a punishment.

Now what?

“I was merely sparing with my personal details,” Suguru said quietly.

“You withheld vital information from us,” another council member pronounced, with the tone of a career lawyer. The dispassion alone made him feel a level of anxiety that he hadn’t felt since he had first gotten into some major trouble in the second grade, after getting into a fight with a teacher’s son. “After you were specifically told, during your interview, to withhold nothing.”

“I didn’t know who to trust,” Suguru said quickly. “I was new to this world. I still am, I just—“

“You lied, Suguru. You lied. That’s all that’s important in the here and now: you tried to deceive the highest authority of Jujutsu Society.”

They had him dead to rights.

Suguru clenched his jaws and remembered who he was.

Screw this.

Finally, he relaxed. “I did. Because I had no reason to trust you.”

One of them gasped. But Suguru almost couldn’t hear it. Blood was rushing in his ears, and he felt a buzz in his mind.

Geto Suguru wasn’t known, in his school, for being the star student. He wasn’t known for being the most rule-abiding student. He wasn’t known for anything other than an unflappable swagger.

Little did anyone know how he managed to earn himself this attitude of his.

He had been tall from a young age. Tall. Threatening. And not all that bright. Still, he had tried to fit in by any means necessary, even if it meant relaxing his personality and adopting a ‘character’.

The kindly, gentle Suguru. The same Suguru who would never even conceive of lifting a finger to hurt a fly, much less lie to an authority figure. He wasn’t perfect, but he tried, and that was why the teachers in his old school still liked him—because they could see the inner angel inside the hoodlum, trying with all his power to emerge.

A futile, nigh-on schizophrenic act, put on in front of people that would never understand him or his burden in a million years.

What was the point in doing the same here and now? Because these people might understand his burden better than his teachers?

For right now, where he stood, he could hardly tell a difference between them and the non-sorcerers he had left behind.

Grown-ups were all the same, no matter where you went.

All they wanted to do… the deepest desire that they held in their heart…

…was to tell kids like him what to do.

“And I don’t regret a thing,” Suguru said, his voice picking up. “I still don’t. Even now, I have no reason to trust any of you unseen figures, hidden behind these doors. You are nothing to me, but yet another set of interchangeable authority figures. So why don’t we simply skip the nonsense where you browbeat me into submission, and get to know who I am as a person? You will find me to be far more cooperative person than you might first have imagined, moreso than some other Special Grades in my year. Believe me—I know what is at stake. I’ve spent years practicing as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, protecting my city of Kamakura, without the help of anyone else. Before we move on, I would like for those credentials of mine to be acknowledged.”

The council was quiet for several, agonizing seconds. Still, Suguru maintained his confidence. He was tired of letting grown-ups dictate his path ahead.

“We acknowledge your… contributions to society,” one said. “But before this conversation persists—reveal to us now where your limits lie.”

“I have not reached them,” Suguru said honestly. “I don’t believe I’m anywhere close to them, at least. The Grade One that I absorbed did nothing to strain what I believe to be my ‘inner dimension’.”

In fact, as far as Suguru knew, he had no limitations.

Aside from his mental tolerance to the absolutely horrid taste of curses. At the thought of it, he grinned.

Tastes almost as bad as the upchuck of a night spent drinking for no good reason.

No. The curses tasted far worse, somehow.

“That remains to be seen,” one of the council members said, angrily. “Very well. If you truly wish to prove to the council that you are on the side of order and rightful authority… you will accept a transfer to Kyoto Jujutsu High effective immediately, where your training will begin in earnest.”

What?

“That’s not necessary,” Suguru said. “I believe the instruction I’m already receiving is adequate enough for my purposes, and there are no one that I trust in Kyoto Jujutsu High the way I trust the people I’ve encountered in Tokyo.”

“This impetuousness of yours contradicts your claims!” one council member shouted. “You’re just as flighty and anarchic as the others!”

Dammit! Why were they making this so hard.

“I assure you that I am not,” Suguru said through a growl. “But I do have my needs. I will not join Kyoto Jujutsu High to prove my loyalty. That is my final answer.”

“You speak as if you can trust Gojo Satoru, or Hibana Teira,” the council said. “They view you as a potential threat to their might. Rivals. They would sabotage their training, whether wittingly or not. It is simply not possible for someone in their position to help improve yours. Your growth would be their deterioration.”

Suguru attributed the persuasive power of those words to his hangover and sleep deprivation. Teira, at least, could potentially…

No.

Satoru, however?

Suguru smiled. Definitely not.

“I’ll take my chances,” Suguru said.

“Make no mistake, Suguru—you will be put through trial after trial. That is, if you believe that you are deserving of the conceit that you have so brazenly displayed before us today.”

“If I’m even a tenth as deserving of my conceit as you are of yours, then I might rival Gojo Satoru in time,” Suguru said without missing a beat. He ignored their gasps as he continued. “Until that point—you know where to find me.” He stood up.

“The council has not dismissed you!”

“I dismissed myself,” Suguru said. “Special Grade. Grade One. I don’t care. Just help me help you. That’s all that matters.”

He turned around to leave.

“Insolence!”

He ignored their subsequent cries as well. They were too quiet to penetrate the growing headache pounding at his skull from the hangover.

000

The four were grabbing an early lunch on top of a balcony on a tall traditional building in campus—one of many.

Satoru was tightrope-walking on the railing, Teira was seated on top of it, and Shoko was leaning against it, next to where Teira sat. Suguru stood in the middle of the balcony, arms folded, his expression as tired as his mind after that conversation.

He would kill for a full eight hours at this point.

“This definitely calls for a celebration,” Teira said as she reached into her haori.

“No!”

“Dear lord, please no!”

“For the love of all that is holy, no!”

Teira’s arm froze, and she pulled it back, mercifully empty, with a pout.

Suguru chuckled nonetheless.

“By the way,” Satoru said. “Teira and I have ten thousand riding on whether or not you threw us under the bus in front of the higher-ups, in order to look good in comparison. Me, personally, I despise the implication, and I just want you to hurry up and tell her you’d never do such a thing.”

Suguru hummed. “Well, in a certain manner of the phrase…”

“Hah!” Teira clapped her hands jubilantly. “Cough it up, Gojo!”

Satoru grumbled as he dug into his pocket.

“Not like I got very far,” Suguru said. “Although, not for a lack of trying.”

“Why are you rubbing in this betrayal?” Satoru asked, glowering at him.

Shoko was smoking a cigarette—a recent discovery of Suguru’s. Normally, he would have discouraged her, but Teira alone seemed like the priority patient for discouraging adolescent substance abuse—and he had no idea where to start with her.

“What happened?” Shoko asked. “What stopped you from going through with your heinous backstabbing?”

Suguru rubbed the back of his head and groaned. “They’re… really overbearing people.”

Teira laughed, along with Satoru. “What’s that?” Satoru asked mockingly. “Baby’s first time touching a hot burner?”

“Now you know why everyone and their grandmother thinks they’re despicable weirdos,” Teira laughed. “By all means, do keep trying to pander to them. I’m sure they won’t string you along like an abusive spouse, making you fight tooth and nail for even a crumb of validation!”

Suguru shrugged. “I still don’t think my approach is wrong. Cooperation is better.”

“Alright, bud,” Satoru laughed.

Not for the first time today, Suguru felt a rising headache.