"Satoru, Shoko, could I ask you two to take Riko and Kuroi outside for a while?"
No one paid attention to the cult leader barking like a mad dog or the dazed followers standing around. Suguru turned to his two friends, eyes narrowed slightly but wearing his usual gentle smile.
"As you wish."
Satoru gave Mukuro a lazy glance, then hooked his finger toward Riko with a teasing grin. "Come on, kid. Let big brother keep you company for a bit, alright?"
"Huh?"
Riko frowned instantly, chasing after the smirking Satoru as he jogged out of the conference room. Kuroi and Shoko followed close behind.
"So, Mukuro," Suguru said quietly, his eyes sweeping over the cult members and the trembling executives of the Star Religious Group. "Why did you go to all this trouble?"
From the illusion earlier to turning the gun on the cult leader himself, he couldn't quite grasp what Mukuro and his brother were after. But somehow, it felt like this had something to do with him.
"Do you remember what happened the first time we met? What I told you back then?" Mukuro asked back, spinning the gun Toji had tossed him.
"Hah, that was ten years ago. Who remembers stuff from back then?" Suguru rubbed the back of his head, looking helpless. Those memories, no matter how vivid, had long been blurred by time and years of experience.
"It's fine if you don't remember," Mukuro replied. "I'll tell you again."
Suguru's reaction didn't surprise him. Back then, his words hadn't been enough to shake the boy's beliefs.
"Monkeys and humans are different, even if they both lack cursed energy or technique."
The same words he once said resurfaced, bringing back fragments of memory.
That time, when they'd faced a group of murderous criminals, Suguru had chosen to subdue them and hand them over to the police instead of killing them.
"Mukuro, the heavens gave us strength so we could protect the weak from the strong..."
His lips trembled slightly. He was clearly shaken inside, yet still forcing himself to offer "ordinary people" extraordinary compassion, simply because they were weak.
No matter how ignorant or vile they were, he still believed that was only the result of weakness and incompetence. To him, the weak surviving was how the world was meant to be.
"Don't give me that 'power and responsibility' nonsense," Mukuro interrupted. "That kind of talk only exists to restrain good people like you."
He raised the gun and aimed it at the cult leader, who was still kneeling and shouting curses.
"Wait! You can't kill me! I was wrong! If you kill me, the jujutsu world will label you as a curse user and hunt you down! You don't want your assassin identities exposed, do you?"
Seeing the deadly calm in Mukuro's eyes, the cult leader came to his senses at last. Ignoring the frozen followers around him, he began to beg, switching between pleading and threatening.
He knew who Mukuro was. Others might not, but he did. This man had probably killed more sorcerers than he had ever met in his entire life. Why would someone like that hesitate to kill him?
"Mukuro..."
Suguru's heart wavered again. He wanted to stop him, yet deep down, another voice whispered: being weak isn't an excuse for doing evil.
Weakness doesn't equal innocence.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out. Blood burst from the cult leader's shoulder as he screamed, his cries echoing through the room.
Ironically, none of the cult followers reacted. They stood like lifeless puppets, and the executives hid in the crowd, terrified they'd be next.
"What if it wasn't me this time?" Mukuro's voice was calm. "If Toji and I had truly been your enemies, Riko's fate would've been what you saw earlier, and Satoru would've died in that fight."
Bang!
He took another shot. The bullet struck the same wounded arm, drawing another shriek.
"Even knowing that," Mukuro continued, "do you still think these parasites deserve your protection just because they're 'weak'?"
His words hit Suguru harder than the gunfire.
The so-called "noble ideals" his friend carried were far too heavy, so heavy that one day they'd crush the kind-hearted boy who carried it.
Mukuro wanted to change that using this opportunity. To break his blind belief in protecting the weak at all costs.
"I..." Suguru swallowed hard. He didn't know how to respond.
Mukuro was right. If this path he'd chosen was built on the corpses of his friends and allies, then what meaning did it really have?
He had always sought purpose in everything he did. So was it truly right to protect the weak unconditionally?
He felt lost at this time, trapped in darkness, unable to see where the path ahead led.
"Don't think too much," Mukuro said. "Power shouldn't be a chain that binds us. It's good to help the weak, but you must know who deserves saving. Stop forgiving people who don't deserve it. Do what you want to do. Save yourself before you try to save others."
He reached out his hand.
In Suguru's dark world, a path appeared.
No flowers. No shade. Just Mukuro and Satoru stood ahead, waiting for him.
It was the path of the strong, the one they called "following the heart."
"You talk too much." Suguru suddenly smiled. "I'll wait for you outside. Don't take too long."
He hooked his finger toward the door and walked away, his steps light, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
He wasn't yet able to see the world like Mukuro or Satoru did, but he had taken his first step.
No longer would he see all ordinary people as helpless weaklings needing protection.
"Now then," Mukuro's voice filled the room. "I'll give you a chance. Ten seconds. Those who wish to leave the Star Religious Group and live as honest people, walk out now."
"I! I! I!"
The executives bolted from the crowd, tripping over each other to escape. Even the injured cult leader crawled desperately toward the door.
"Sorry," Mukuro said calmly. "I was talking to the regular followers."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Several shots followed, each one blowing holes through the executives' knees. They collapsed, screaming.
In contrast, the cultists remained eerily calm, blank eyes staring forward in unwavering devotion.
"Time's up," Mukuro murmured softly.
Not one follower moved.
"Then… let the slaughter begin."
He stepped back, and the gun in his hand turned to ash. The number "2" glowed in his right eye.
At the same time, everyone he had shot earlier stood up, their eyes glowing the same crimson "2." Each raised a pistol toward the cultists.
It was the Preta Path, forcibly controlling the bodies of those he had wounded.
Gunfire erupted, filling the room like a storm.
Mukuro stood silently, watching the carnage unfold before him, as if admiring a display of fireworks.
**
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