Gojo Satoru spun the basketball on his finger, sidestepped Geto's attempt to block him, and leaped into the air. Bang! A clean, effortless dunk.
"Seriously, is setting up the tent really that important?"
Gojo waved his hands in mock helplessness. He, Geto Suguru, and Iori Utahime had just been chewed out by Yaga Masamichi for skipping protocol during their last exorcism mission.
Geto calmly raised his hand and launched a three-pointer. The ball arced gracefully and sank cleanly into the basket.
"Of course it's important. The tent keeps civilians safe. Cursed Spirits are born from negative emotions. If we don't maintain basic social order, the curses will only grow stronger."
That age-old saying held true: where there is chaos, there are evil spirits.
"As Jujutsu sorcerers, our purpose is to protect ordinary people from Cursed Spirits. That's how society should function—the strong protect the weak."
Geto shot Gojo a pointed look with his narrow eyes.
"Here we go again! Another moral lecture!"
Gojo pulled a face, tossing the basketball behind him in mock frustration. It landed perfectly against Geto's chest.
"Protecting the weak is boring."
"…What did you just say?"
Geto's eyes narrowed. Behind him, a rift of dark energy split open, revealing a mass of writhing Cursed Spirits lurking in the shadows.
"All right then—let's settle this with strength."
Gojo smirked, looking fired up.
"Enough, all of you."
A calm voice echoed through the gym.
Up in the audience seats on the second floor, James sat with his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. He'd had enough—besides, they were playing terribly.
Seriously, using supernatural abilities to play basketball? This wasn't just a game anymore—it was an accident waiting to happen.
"James, come judge for us!"
Gojo waved dramatically at him, but James didn't even look in his direction.
"At the moment, Geto makes a solid point."
"Tsk. Boring. I forgot—you're the only one here who actually cares about logic."
Gojo made another face and pulled the basketball toward him with one hand, again and again.
"Is everyone here?"
Yaga Masamichi entered the gym, holding a laptop. He looked around and gave a small nod.
"Good. I've got a new mission."
"Oh come on. Another one? How boring."
Gojo casually tossed the ball and summoned it back like a yo-yo.
"Pay attention. This one's important."
"Can we get the details?" asked Geto, always the more serious of the two.
"It concerns the escort and protection of the Astral Plasma."
"…Astral Plasma?"
"The Astral Plasma is the vessel required by Master Tengen. Though Tengen possesses the technique of immortality, it cannot preserve human consciousness indefinitely. Every few centuries, Tengen must assimilate with the Astral Plasma to maintain clarity and control."
Yaga paused and adjusted his glasses.
"But the vessel—Tennariko—has been exposed. Several groups are now targeting her, hoping to prevent the assimilation."
"Who's after her?"
"There are two major groups. First, the Bankai Cult, which ironically worships Tengen, but believes assimilation will taint their god. Fortunately, they're mostly regular people and not much of a threat."
"Then there's the Curse User Group Q. They want to disrupt the Jujutsu world through Tengen. They're the real problem."
"So the mission," Yaga continued, "is to escort Tennariko to Kuriboshi Palace, where Master Tengen awaits. It's a critical moment in the balance of our world."
He looked up.
"To complete this task, three Jujutsu sorcerers have been appointed: James, Gojo Satoru, and Geto Suguru."
Yaga closed his laptop with a click.
"Ha?"
Gojo blinked, pretending to be confused even though he understood perfectly.
"Why us?" Geto asked plainly.
"Because we're the strongest," Gojo replied, his pale blue eyes gleaming with childish pride.
"I refuse."
The room went still.
All eyes turned toward James.
"…May I ask why?" Yaga said evenly.
"I understand Tengen's importance, but I won't help him. Sacrificing one person for the sake of many? I can't accept that."
Geto's expression shifted. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, while Gojo, predictably, didn't react much at all.
"This is a top-down order," Yaga replied. "The higher-ups take everything concerning Master Tengen very seriously."
"Of course they do. It's their precious barrier system. Without it, their secret society collapses."
James scoffed.
"They hide in the shadows issuing orders, hoarding power, blaming others for every disaster they cause. What a joke."
Geto's expression darkened slightly, but Gojo raised a hand and gave James a silent thumbs-up.
Yaga looked conflicted. Deep down, he agreed—but he couldn't say it aloud.
James's position was now crystal clear.
"James… the higher-ups are already unhappy with your attitude. If this continues, they may label you a traitor."
Yaga sighed.
"It's a pity," James replied, a calm smile on his face, "that no one in this world can enforce that label on me."
The arrogance in his words wasn't empty bravado—he meant it. And somehow, it sounded true.
Gojo and Geto looked intrigued. They had never fought James directly—just seen glimpses of his strength in passing. What they had seen was impressive: devastating speed, overwhelming force.
But what else was he hiding?
No one knew the true nature of James's technique.
Yaga hesitated for a long moment, then gave up trying to convince him.
"…Take care of yourself."
And with that, the mission was reassigned—Gojo and Geto would go alone.
As for Shōko?
"They didn't invite me. Why should I bother?"
---
That night, the stars sparkled faintly behind a curtain of clouds. But Tokyo's never-ending lights washed the sky in white, concealing the universe above.
In the meditation room, James sat in silence. Outside his paper window, a mechanical bird tapped against the sill—dong dong dong.
James opened his eyes.
He rose, slid the window open, and let the strange-looking bird fly inside. It circled him twice, then dropped a note before vanishing into the night.
He unfolded the paper.
A single phrase was written.
James's expression darkened. With a sigh, he crushed the note in his hand. It burst into flames without a spark.
Silently, he walked to the shelf, grabbed his sword, and opened the door.
Squeak…
The hallway was dim. Only faint moonlight filtered through the distant windows.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
James walked through the shadows toward the school gate.
"Hey! James—where are you going this late?"
Gojo Satoru appeared from a tree branch above, waving casually. He jumped down, landing softly despite the weight of the moment.
"Tsk. Gojo, you're terrible at hiding emotions. Just spit it out."
James gave a small smile. Despite pretending to be carefree, Gojo's unease was written all over his face.
"…Do you really have to go?"
Gojo's grin faded. His eyes were calm now.
"What do you think?"
James replied with a question of his own.
"…I could just kill them all."
Gojo's tone was flat, but the threat behind his words was real.
The silence stretched between them. Night wind rustled the leaves. Dust danced in the air.
James didn't respond.
"I won't let you go."
Gojo's pale blue eyes glowed faintly beneath his white lashes. His voice left no room for negotiation.
"You alone can't stop me, Gojo."
James chuckled. "This scene… Gojo standing beneath the moonlight, trying to stop me—what a cliché."
"…What about me?"
Another voice echoed in the night. From the shadows emerged a familiar figure—long bangs swept to the side, eyes sharp and clear.
Geto Suguru.
"I thought you'd understand why I'm doing this," James said, not surprised.
"I do. But I also have my own principles."
The two stared each other down, exchanging words calmly.
Gojo stood silently between them.
"Well, this is exciting," James said with a small smile. "Come on, both of you. Show me what the strongest duo can really do."
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