Outside the door was a male ghost staring through the peephole!
An absolute, bona fide high-school boy ghost who could scare someone to death without paying for it!
Getou Suguru suppressed the impulse to suspect his own mother. The imagery was so vivid that his mind had already begun automatically playing out the ghost story: his utterly ordinary, full-time-housewife mother murdering Asou Akiya as the mastermind behind the scenes.
Did his mother truly have the ability to scheme against Asou Akiya?
To refer to her own son as a "little piglet"?
How would she dare? Where would she even get such capability?
He let out a short laugh.
It was just a script.
Getou Suguru clung firmly to one principle without wavering: whoever believed this nonsense would be a complete idiot!
The male ghost outside the door had been promoted from a self-sacrificing "benevolent spirit" to a lingering, vengeful "malignant ghost."
"It's just a script—is that what Getou thinks?"
The other party's familiar mind-reading trick surfaced again.
"That's right. The posthumous script you wrote is absurd beyond measure. I'm not so incompetent that I'd mistake my own biological mother. Do you need me to recommend you for the lead role in a horror film? The kind where you trick the heroine to her death without batting an eye."
Getou Suguru tore down the act and fiercely shot back, proving that he was not intimidated by Asou Akiya in the slightest.
"But Getou isn't the heroine…"
From outside the door, the faint, drifting voice of the vengeful ghost continued to echo.
"Getou is…"
The voice weakened, as though lowering into a whisper.
"The standard cannon-fodder second male lead who would rather deceive himself than believe the heartfelt words of his classmate."
Vein, vein, vein!!
Seething with anger, Getou Suguru summoned a low-grade flyhead and ordered it to fly over and plaster itself against the peephole, blocking it to restore a sense of security and prevent those pitch-black, unnervingly sinister eyes from spying on him inside the apartment.
"Get lost." Getou Suguru spat out the harshest insult he could muster toward Akiya.
"If you dare to show yourself, I'll dare to lock you inside a coffin," Getou Suguru declared with emphatic force.
"…" Outside the door.
"Getou is so lively," that person remarked with a sigh.
"I heard you killed your parents and defected from the jujutsu world. I was a little worried about you." The smile in his voice carried the weight of sorrow.
"Don't worry. I will end this false life and won't interfere with your world. At the very end, could Getou help me pass along a message to Gojo?"
That person, whether in life or death, could never stop thinking about Gojo Satoru.
Getou Suguru's expression turned tranquil as he closed his eyes, refusing to grow angry. Whether inside the script or outside it, Asou Akiya valued Gojo Satoru above all else.
When he was "alive," he took care of Gojo Satoru. After his "death," he was buried within the Gojo family.
He might as well just change his name to Gojo Akiya!
Amid the heavy silence, the person outside the door seemed to interpret the quiet as rejection and asked in a choked voice, "Is that not allowed? Are you unwilling?"
At that moment, Getou Suguru's practically nonexistent conscience twinged with pain, and he felt a trace of bitterness at truly becoming the cannon-fodder second male lead.
"You—go ahead—"
Asou Akiya, you lunatic!
Even as Getou Suguru cursed him inwardly, it did not prevent him from compromising with Asou Akiya for once.
Outside, keeping watch over the surroundings, Gojo Satoru pricked up his ears and listened in.
Gojo Satoru knew of the novel The Strongest Demon King Reincarnates as a Modern Master Onmyoji. During class, he had used the "Six Eyes" to follow along as Ieiri Shoko flipped through the book in her hands, and he had already read most of its contents.
He did not believe that the novel had been written by Asou Akiya; the plot completely contradicted Asou Akiya's personality.
In the story, the protagonist "Suguru" wished to save 290,000 lives and, with the vow of attaining Buddhahood, bargained with Jizo Bosatsu for the life of his next reincarnation. But Asou Akiya was not someone who prayed to gods and Buddhas. He was the one who had personally told Suguru that "sorcerers are the true gods."
Gojo Satoru's guess aligned with Getou Suguru's: Asou Akiya must have reached some sort of agreement with the publishing house.
Using coincidence, similarity, and metaphor to provoke others was one of his usual methods.
Writing a novel? He simply did not have the time or energy for that.
Gojo Satoru: [Wow, this is so interesting!]
Gojo Satoru: [What kind of "last words" is Akiya going to leave for the twenty-six-year-old me? Hurry up and say it—don't be vague!]
Gojo Satoru: [But what will Akiya do after he says it? Commit suicide? Will Suguru really come back to the Bulgari Hotel?]
The one-meter-ninety-tall, twenty-six-year-old "Teacher Gojo" waited outside in eager anticipation.
The script had developed to the point where even those within the story knew nothing; only the person directly involved understood what would happen next.
At the doorway, Asou Akiya hugged his novel to his chest and lowered his head. His slender neck resembled a bird with broken wings, and his soft bangs concealed his youthful, vibrant brows and eyes. The time he took to compose his words made the air itself seem thick and heavy.
Getou Suguru began to regret.
He questioned why he had even wanted to hear the other continue spinning this story.
[Am I some little brat who loves listening to stories? No. I have broken free from my mental shackles; I am already a free man.]
[Asou Akiya, go on and speak. I'm waiting to laugh at your so-called "last words"!]
[Even if you're a ghost, I can shove you back into your coffin and make you lie there like a well-behaved corpse.]
[I, Getou Suguru, will never admit defeat!]
Second by second, time slipped away. Cursed energy, crimson like flames, outlined the figure standing outside the door.
Cinderella's glass slipper falls off after midnight.
Asou Akiya had no glass slipper, no splendid attire, and the story he fabricated was nowhere near as beautiful as a fairy tale.
Generally speaking, "last words" are the most beautiful blessings in this world. But sorcerers are different. A sorcerer's dying words are often a curse, and because of that, many sorcerers would rather keep silent at the end than bring a curse upon the people closest to them.
Fortunate? Or unfortunate? Asou Akiya was willing to devote his entire life to offering up a curse.
"Gojo, when you and Getou stand together, you are invincible; when you are divided, both of you will suffer defeat."
"The stronger you become, the stronger the cursed spirits will grow. And the stronger the cursed spirits grow, the stronger Getou will become. Sooner or later, the two of you will be able to suppress all cursed spirits."
"The future of the jujutsu world rests in your hands. I have never wavered in this belief."
"I envy you both. From birth to death, my gaze has been fixed upon you…"
"As for me, I want to curse you—just once."
Getou Suguru suddenly sat bolt upright, one foot planted on the sofa. His hand unconsciously gripped the leather armrest, his nails scraping hard enough to tear the surface, his body betraying an instinctive resistance to the very notion of a curse.
Gojo Satoru tore off his blindfold, his azure, heaven-blessed eyes fixing upon Asou Akiya, who for reasons unknown now wished to curse them.
A sorcerer's words carry causality within them.
Hey, hey—so in this script, who exactly is the one who can't afford to lose?
…
"Buddhism speaks of the Eight Sufferings of life: first, the suffering of birth; second, the suffering of aging; third, the suffering of illness; fourth, the suffering of death; fifth, the suffering of desiring what one cannot obtain; sixth, the suffering of meeting those one hates; seventh, the suffering of separation from those one loves; and eighth, the suffering of the blazing of the Five Aggregates, which arises from the previous seven."
"I curse you—may you live out your natural lifespans and die in peace."
"I curse you—every unfulfilled longing in your lives before death, I will bear in your stead; I will carry that burden for you."
"I curse you—in this lifetime, you will never part ways again."
"I curse you—life after life, you will remain friends, and in the next life, you will meet again."
"I curse you—"
"That you will be beautiful in joy, beautiful in sorrow, beautiful in compassion, and that your souls will never know ugliness."
"For this filthy yet beautiful world, I curse you forever—"
"May all misfortune, without exception, stay far away."
After Asou Akiya spoke these "last words," cursed energy surged and roared, extreme emotions flooding in and igniting like a blaze.
It was as if he had unilaterally forged a vow with the heavens.
He did not fear life or death, nor did he fear shackles. He smiled freely, owning every word and deed of his, and said, "Getou Suguru, whatever choice you make—even if you want to cut ties—that's fine. I'm simply this kind of madman who loves to go crazy."
Asou Akiya tore open the plastic wrapping of the novel, took out a pen, and at the very end left three lines of neat, elegant handwriting.
[Getou, from today onward, I wish you freedom.]
[We're waiting for you at the presidential suite on the top floor of the Bulgari Hotel to celebrate your birthday. We won't leave until you come.]
[Asou Akiya.]
Then, Asou Akiya carefully wiped the floor clean and placed before the door the novel he had written before becoming a student at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
At that time, he had never once imagined that he would develop an intimate friendship with Getou Suguru.
Fate.
You truly are an interesting thing.
…
After a long while, the door opened, yet Getou Suguru could not see the person who had been standing outside. He looked around blankly in confusion. What he saw was the lingering trace of cursed energy left behind when Asou Akiya departed—those mottled footprints, still carrying flames not yet extinguished, dispersing the gloom and illuminating a narrow corridor within the apartment.
His breathing was hurried, and the heart within his chest was still convulsing from that so-called "curse."
Was it truly a "curse"? Yes—the words spoken had been arrogant beyond measure.
And yet, were they not also a blessing for him?
Knowing that he would not listen to any explanation offered at face value, Akiya had chosen instead to convey his blessing through words addressed to Gojo.
Of the Eight Sufferings of life, he had tasted far more bitterness than Gojo Satoru, who had been pampered by the Gojo family since childhood. At Tokyo Jujutsu High, Gojo lived with an almost absurd simplicity—cheerful and carefree—while only he concealed his family circumstances, concealed the taste of cursed spirit orbs, concealed the injustices he encountered within ordinary society, and even concealed from Tokyo Jujutsu High the true effects of his Cursed Spirit Manipulation technique.
Among the four in their class, he was the one who loved to lie. Unfortunately, he had met a classmate who could see through every one of his lies. Fortunately, that very classmate helped him at every turn. Even at the risk of severing their relationship, he had still reached out a hand to him in aid.
He cursed at him, and the other did not take offense.
He said he did not want to see him, and the other fabricated an excuse of "resurrection" just to keep the story moving and force an appearance.
He ran away from home, alone and by himself, yet his classmates were waiting for him at the Bulgari Hotel, anticipating his arrival.
They might have moved the enormous cake into the presidential suite. They might have reserved for him a comfortable, spacious room, leaving the lights on all night to illuminate the darkness and drive away loneliness and helplessness. Though they shared no blood ties, they were bound tightly together through Tokyo Jujutsu High.
In this performance, every person had done their utmost. Getou Suguru alone had no script in hand. He opened the final page of the novel Asou Akiya had left for him, his fingertips tracing the lingering cursed energy embedded in the ink, and suddenly realized that the ending of his own script contained only a single sentence:
——"Even if the years keep us apart, we will not fail to meet again."
The grudges between his parents, the weight of family and society, the mire of his childhood… none of these had anything to do with his classmates in the jujutsu world.
The meaning of a birthday is simply that one has grown a year older.
He would have to walk out of this on his own.
Getou Suguru murmured, "Happy birthday. May I remain free forever, never again falling into the predicament of today."
The earth-shattering upheaval of the early morning now felt as distant as a previous life.
He was Getou Suguru—born under heaven's blessing, possessing a once-in-a-millennium rare technique and immense cursed energy, a sixteen-year-old Semi–Special Grade sorcerer, one of the "futures" of the jujutsu world capable of suppressing cursed spirits, as Asou Akiya had described him.
The stronger Gojo Satoru became, the stronger Getou Suguru would become. They were born for the jujutsu world, friends to one another, bearing Asou Akiya's blessing.
Together, they were invincible. Divided, both would suffer defeat.
How could he continue wallowing in self-pity when a dazzling and happy road lay right beneath his feet?
His parents?
Getou Suguru thought to himself: [Once I ensure their safety, then if I no longer have them, so be it. Even an orphan can live just fine.]
He would neither slaughter his own parents with his own hands, nor would he defect from the jujutsu world and abandon those three people behind.
Because his parents were not worthy of him sacrificing such a future.
…
At 10:20 p.m., two knocks sounded at the door of the presidential suite on the top floor of the Bulgari Hotel. It was not room service.
The three people who were in the middle of playing cards all turned in unison toward the door.
"Open up."
"I've come to hunt you down."
Outside the door stood a "Cult Leader Getou" who could not remove his makeup. After hearing the whispering inside, he lazily lifted his eyelids.
He summoned a cursed spirit to unlock the door from within, then barged into the Tokyo Jujutsu High classmates' gathering, radiating murderous intent from head to toe.
The three of them were sitting in a neat row, arranged from tallest to shortest, unusually well-behaved.
"Yo! Birthday boy!"
…
Every single one of them had a layer of cake smeared across their faces. Asou Akiya in particular was covered in cake from head to toe, to the point that none of the black parts of his clothing could be seen clearly anymore.
Ieiri Shoko's wig had been reduced to a chaotic bird's nest.
The fake muscles and height-increasing shoes that Gojo Satoru had been wearing were dismantled by Getou Suguru piece by piece, leaving them mostly destroyed and rendering him unable to compete with Ieiri Shoko in terms of size any longer.
The white-haired "man" wearing an eye mask seemed to shrink by an entire size, his muscle mass drastically reduced. In hand-to-hand combat he could not defeat Getou Suguru; after struggling in every possible way and screaming at the top of his lungs, even his high-pitched cries proved useless. In the end, he could only barely protect his fake butt padding, looking aggrieved like an overgrown child.
"Stop stripping it off—there's nothing left! Suguru, I'm seriously out of tricks!"
On a classmate's birthday, the Gojo family's inherited "Limitless" technique apparently took the day off and declared itself invalid.
The "Six Eyes" emitted sparkling waves of light.
Yet in Getou Suguru's view, this was nothing more than Satoru picking up bad habits from Akiya, which only made him look even more deserving of being bullied.
Getou Suguru sized up Gojo Satoru, who had returned to his tall and lean original build.
"Tch…"
In this class, there were three skinny people, and only he possessed exquisitely sculpted muscles honed through years of training.
Go ahead and be jealous, you damn classmates.