On the journey back to the dormitory area, Geto Suguru needed to rest and adjust immediately due to the intense discomfort caused by swallowing the Cursed Spirit Orb, so he left first.
Mujin Nagi, however, did not return to his room. The cloud of suspicion in his heart had not dissipated; instead, it was growing larger and larger.
Although Yaga-sensei's attitude was serious, the term "internal report" sounded full of uncertainty at this moment.
An oversight by the Association? Was it really just an oversight? Why at that specific point in time? Why target him? And Kobayashi—was her appearance truly just an accident? Or... was she also part of the "plan"? Even... was she herself still "her"?
Connecting this to the near-human cunning of [An], a more terrifying thought emerged: What if Cursed Spirits were no longer satisfied with killing in the dark, but had begun to mimic, infiltrate, and even attempt to dismantle the Jujutsu world from within? Among those high-ranking higher-ups who issued orders, could there already be...
Mujin Nagi shuddered. This malice, stemming from the unknown and potentially pervasive infiltration, was more suffocating than facing a Special Grade Cursed Spirit head-on.
Unknowingly, he walked to the edge of the training ground and sat alone on the cold steps, watching the setting sun sink into the distant mountains. The last afterglow was reflected in his eyes, but only deep confusion and... a trace of powerlessness remained.
"Yo, honor student. Cosplaying a melancholic pretty boy out here all by yourself?"
Gojo Satoru's voice was as teasing as ever. He ambled over, sat down unceremoniously, and stretched out his long legs.
"Still obsessing over those rotten oranges?"
Mujin Nagi didn't turn his head. He remained silent, his fingers unconsciously tightening.
Seeing him like this, the playfulness on Gojo Satoru's face slowly faded a little.
"Suguru is fine for now; he just needs to suffer for a while. The taste of a Special Grade rag isn't something to sneeze at, especially that kind of Imaginary Cursed Spirit filled with negative emotions. It's enough for him to have a bad aftertaste for days."
Gojo Satoru tried to break the silence in his usual way, but his tone also carried a hint of understanding regarding his companion's condition.
"Are they... untrustworthy?"
Nagi's voice was somewhat hoarse.
"They? Who? Those ugly oranges?"
Gojo Satoru sneered, his tone becoming cold and direct.
"They were never trustworthy. Nagi, what do you think the Jujutsu world is? A great organization that exists to protect ordinary people?"
Gojo Satoru didn't need Nagi to answer; he continued on his own.
"It's a mud pit that's rotten to the core. Those old geezers at the top have nothing in their brains except pedantic old rules, ridiculous family face, and how to maintain their own power and interests. Sacrificing a few 'disobedient' or 'threatening' Jujutsu Sorcerers? To them, it might be as simple as clearing away eyesore weeds."
Gojo Satoru turned his head. Even through the sunglasses, Nagi could feel the gaze that seemed capable of piercing through everything.
"Do you think your Cursed Technique is special? Is your potential great? That might be the reason, or it might not. When those rotten oranges do things, sometimes they don't need that many reasons. Maybe they just don't like the look of you, maybe they feel you're hard to control, maybe they purely want to cause trouble for me or the people on my side... Or, just as you guessed, maybe something dirty really has mixed in and is muddying the waters."
Gojo Satoru's voice carried an undisguised disgust.
"Doubt them? No need to doubt. Imagine them ten times dirtier, and it still wouldn't be an exaggeration. This is the reality of the Jujutsu world: rotting, foul, entrenched, and disgusting. You want to change it?"
He paused, his tone slightly mocking, yet holding a trace of imperceptible expectation.
"It's as hard as ascending to heaven. Unless you have the power and resolve to flip the entire table."
This string of cold and blunt words completely shattered the last bit of luck Nagi held in his heart.
If it were merely corruption, perhaps it could be endured. But what if this corruption was mixed with inhuman malice and infiltration?
The road ahead seemed shrouded in thick fog, with no direction visible. A strong sense of confusion and chill wrapped around him.
What was the meaning of fighting?
Where should the future path lead?
Mujin Nagi stared blankly at the ground, feeling as if he were trapped in a giant spiderweb from which he could not break free.
Gojo Satoru, watching him fall completely into deep thought and even looking somewhat defeated, surprisingly didn't make any more snide remarks. He simply patted Nagi heavily on the shoulder.
"Don't freeze into an ice block here. You'll get used to it. Or... just like I said, become strong enough. Strong enough to make new rules."
After saying that, Gojo Satoru stood up and sauntered away, leaving Nagi alone to digest this despairing reality.
The sun completely disappeared, night fell, and dim lights lit up around the training ground.
Mujin Nagi remained sitting in the same spot, motionless. The shock and turmoil inside were far more violent than his outward appearance suggested.
Change?
How to change? Where to start?
Fighting the entire corrupt system and potential internal enemies with just one person's strength? The idea was almost hopeless.
After an unknown amount of time, the sound of light footsteps approached. A faint scent of antiseptic mixed with tobacco smoke drifted over.
"Hey, Honor Student Number Two. How long are you planning to cosplay 'The Thinker' here? What kind of dark energy did that guy Gojo instill in you this time?"
Ieiri Shoko's lazy voice rang out. With an unlit cigarette in her mouth and hands in the pockets of her white coat, she walked up to him.
Nagi slowly raised his head, the confusion and heaviness in his eyes not yet dissipated.
Shoko looked him over and raised an eyebrow knowingly.
"Looks like it. And the dose was heavy this time."
Nagi was silent for a moment, then rarely took the initiative to speak, his voice low.
"Shoko... if you discover that the enemy might not only be outside but also... inside, even at the highest levels... what should be done?"
He didn't speak too explicitly, but Shoko clearly understood.
Shoko clicked her tongue, sat down on the step next to him, took out a lighter, spun it around her fingertips, and stuffed it back.
"What else can you do? Just because the chef is scum, are you going to stop eating? Just because those rotten oranges dictate things and might even harbor malicious intent, are you going to stop exorcising curses? Stop saving the people who should be saved?"
She turned her head to look at Nagi, her eyes appearing somewhat deep in the dim light.
"That guy Gojo is a special case. He is the 'Strongest'; he can flip the table whenever he wants without scruples. Most of us don't have that capital. But that doesn't mean we can't do anything and can only drift with the current in despair."
"Just do what you can do, and protect what you believe is right."
Shoko pointed at herself.
"Like me. I just focus on researching my Reverse Cursed Technique, trying my best to ensure you guys charging at the front don't die easily. Saving one more person is one more person. This is my way and my battlefield. Change doesn't happen overnight, but if we do nothing, the situation will only get worse."
"As for the higher-ups..."
Shoko sneered.
"Just pretend they don't exist. Keep your guard up, keep a wary eye. If they really mess with you, then figure out a way to deal with it. Becoming lost in confusion because of suspicion and stopping your advance—that plays right into the hands of certain things."
As Ieiri Shoko spoke, she took a small tin box out of her pocket, picked out a lemon-yellow candy, and handed it to Nagi.
"Here, it's sweet. It might not solve the problem, but at least it can improve your mood a bit."
Mujin Nagi took the candy. The cool touch of the wrapper pulled him slightly away from his chaotic thoughts.
"Don't think too much."
Shoko stood up and stretched.
"Instead of thinking about those distant and heavy problems, focus on what's in front of you. Yaga-sensei asked me to inform you that preparations for next month's 'Sister School Exchange Event' need to start early. It's an old tradition between the Tokyo and Kyoto schools. Although it's troublesome, it's a rare opportunity to openly beat up those guys from Kyoto, and it's not that gloomy. You'll be plenty busy then; no time for wild thoughts."
Sister School Exchange Event... a relatively "normal" activity belonging to Jujutsu Sorcerers.
Shoko's words weren't as destructive as Gojo Satoru's, nor were they empty comfort. Instead, they offered a pragmatic and resilient attitude: acknowledge the darkness, but don't drown in it; do the right thing within your capabilities, and protect the people around you.
Change might be hard, might be far away, but starting from the present, starting from those around you, accumulating bit by bit... maybe one day...
Mujin Nagi looked down at the lemon candy in his palm. The wrapper reflected a faint glimmer under the dim light.
He slowly peeled the wrapper and placed the yellow candy into his mouth.
After the intense sourness came a fresh sweetness, effectively washing away the phantom taste of the rag in his mouth and the dullness in his heart.
Mujin Nagi was silent for a moment, then looked up at Shoko, who was about to turn and leave, and spoke very seriously and softly.
"Thank you, Shoko."
This thanks wasn't just for the candy.
Shoko paused in her steps, looked back with that same lack of enthusiasm on her face, and mumbled around the cigarette filter in her mouth.
"Hm? Thank for what? That candy is sour as hell, tastes terrible. I was just clearing out my pocket."
She didn't mention anything about comfort or guidance, as if she had just casually thrown something she didn't like to him.
But she paused, as if suddenly remembering something, and added in a flat tone:
"Ah, right, I almost forgot you know Reverse Cursed Technique yourself."
She waved her hand, her tone even more casual.
"That saves trouble then. In the future, if you get injured, handle it yourself. Whatever you do, don't come to the infirmary to trouble me. I hate overtime the most."
This attitude of "fearing trouble" to the extreme became her unique way of saying, "You are strong, so I don't need to worry."
Mujin Nagi was stunned for a moment. In those crimson eyes that were always calm and ripple-less, a trace of very subtle understanding flashed past. He nodded: "Mm. I won't trouble you."
Shoko seemed satisfied with this answer, or perhaps she didn't care what he answered at all.
She waved her hand lazily as a farewell, then turned and slowly ambled toward the infirmary, her figure gradually blending into the night.
After walking a few steps, without looking back, she simply raised her hand and tossed something casually behind her. A small tin box traced a slight arc and fell toward Nagi.
"The rest is yours. Too sour."
It was the tin box that held the candy just now.
Mujin Nagi caught it precisely. There were still several fruit candies of different colors inside the box.
He gripped the cold tin box tight, watching Shoko's back, which seemed indifferent to everything, disappear into the darkness.
The sourness of the lemon candy in his mouth had long since melted away, leaving only a lingering sweetness.
He stood up and carefully put the tin box away. Looking up at the night sky, a few stars began to twinkle. Although their light was weak, they shone firmly.
Yes, confusion solves no problems.
If the status quo is rotten, then change it; if the system is dark, then look for the light; if enemies are lurking, then become stronger and more vigilant.
Starting from now, starting from every mission, every encounter, every choice. At least, here, he was not alone.
The Sister School Exchange Event, huh?
Mujin Nagi took a deep breath of the cold night air and walked toward the dormitory.
His steps were steady again, and his direction was clear once more. The road ahead was long and difficult, but at least he was no longer stagnant.
The candy tin in his pocket made a slight, reassuring clinking sound with his steps.