The black sedan glided through Tokyo's neon-drenched streets, each turn taking Rome further from everything familiar. He pressed his forehead against the cool window glass, watching skyscrapers blur past like tombstones for the life he'd left behind.
Four years. Four years of my life signed away to a blind man with god powers. Smart move, Rome. Real big brain time.
He stole a glance at Gojo, who drove with one hand draped casually over the steering wheel, the other scrolling through his phone. The car swerved occasionally into the opposite lane whenever Gojo found something particularly interesting on his screen.
"You know, most people keep their eyes on the road when they drive," Rome said.
Gojo tapped his blindfold. "Bold of you to assume I have eyes on anything."
"Then how are you—"
"Six Eyes sees everything," Gojo said with a shrug, like explaining basic addition to a toddler. "Traffic patterns, pedestrian movements, the fastest route to school... the fact that you're secretly tapping your foot to whatever song is playing in your head right now."
Rome immediately stopped his foot. "I wasn't."
"Sure you weren't." Gojo's lips curled into a grin as he reached for the car's touchscreen. "Road trip rules! Driver picks the music. And since I'm the strongest, I always pick."
Before Rome could object, the opening notes of Britney Spears' "Toxic" blasted through the premium sound system. Gojo cranked the volume up and started dancing in his seat.
This is the most powerful sorcerer alive? The guy who's supposed to teach me how to murder the woman who killed my parents?
Rome turned back to the window, clenching his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might crack. He focused on the Tokyo skyline, determined to ignore both Gojo and Britney.
But his traitorous foot betrayed him again, tapping against the floormat in perfect rhythm.
Damn Cursed Technique. Makes me too sensitive to beats and vibrations.
By the time Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" started playing, Rome had given up the pretense. His head bobbed slightly to the rhythm, though he made sure to look appropriately bored while doing it.
"The 2000s were a golden era," Gojo said sagely. "Back when pop music had substance."
"You sound like you're fifty instead of twenty-eight."
"With great power comes great musical appreciation," Gojo replied, turning the volume higher.
The next song began with a smooth R&B beat that Rome recognized instantly. Usher's "Caught Up" – a genuine classic that had been on his personal playlist for years.
He tried to resist, but the familiar melody pulled a quiet hum from his throat. Just a few notes, barely audible.
Gojo's head whipped toward him so fast it was amazing he didn't crash the car. "I knew it! You have taste after all!"
Before Rome could deny it, Gojo was harmonizing with his hum, his surprisingly good tenor voice filling the car.
"No, I don't—" Rome started, but then Usher hit that pre-chorus, and Rome's resistance crumbled like wet cardboard.
By the chorus, they were both singing at full volume, Rome handling the "Yeah" ad-libs while Gojo took the high notes with unnecessary flourish.
"I'm so caught up!" Gojo belted, pointing at Rome for his part.
"CAUGHT UP!" Rome shouted back, hands moving in rhythm like he'd been practicing for this moment his entire life.
"I'm feeling it, caught up!" Gojo continued, somehow keeping the car on the road despite his full-body performance.
"THIS GIRLS GOT A HOLD ON ME!"
They finished the chorus together, Rome reluctantly admitting to himself that this was the most fun he'd had in months. When the song finally ended, they both collapsed back into their seats, breathless.
"Okay," Rome conceded. "You have... decent taste. For a teacher."
"I am a man of culture, Rome." Gojo lowered the volume as a mellower beat took over. "But more importantly, I got you to stop brooding."
"I wasn't brooding," Rome muttered. "I was thinking."
"About what?"
"About this school. Who else is there? Am I going to be surrounded by nerds who do nothing but study curses all day?"
Gojo chuckled. "The second years are out on a mission in Sapporo right now. Maki, Toge, and Panda. You'll meet them later. They're... unique."
"Panda? Like, an actual panda?"
"Yes and no. It's complicated."
Rome decided not to push that particular line of questioning. "What about my year?"
"Then there are the first years. Including you, there are six of you."
"Six?" Rome raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Small class. I thought this was a school."
"How many other curse users have you met outside the ring, Rome?" Gojo asked.
Rome thought about it. "Not many. Mostly just low-level thugs."
"Exactly. Sorcerers are rare. This is actually the biggest first-year class we've had in years. Usually, it's three. Maybe four."
The car turned onto a less populated street, heading toward the outskirts of the city.
"Two are already on campus," Gojo continued. "We're picking up the other three tomorrow."
"So... if the others are coming tomorrow, why did I have to come tonight? I could have packed my own bags."
Gojo smirked. "Because that would have given you an 'out.' I know you, Rome. If I left you alone tonight, you would have overthought it, grabbed your cash, and vanished into the underground." He tapped the car stereo as the song ended. "I needed you 'Caught Up.'"
"Did you just make a dad joke based on the song we were singing?"
"I contain multitudes," Gojo said proudly.
The neon lights of Tokyo gradually faded as they drove, replaced by the silhouettes of trees against the night sky. The road began to wind upward, the air growing crisper with each passing minute. Rome watched as skyscrapers gave way to mountains, concrete to forests.
"We've been driving up this mountain for twenty minutes," Rome said. "Is this really still Tokyo?"
"Technically. The boonies of Tokyo." Gojo slowed the car as they approached what looked like an ordinary mountain road. "Get ready for a bit of turbulence."
"Wha—"
Rome felt it before he could finish. A strange sensation washed over him, like passing through a cold waterfall. His skin prickled with goosebumps, and for a split second, he felt like he'd been turned inside out. His Devil's Eyes activated on instinct, and what he saw made his jaw drop.
A barrier, impossibly vast and complex, surrounded the entire mountain. Through his eyes, it looked like a massive dome of intricately woven Cursed Energy, patterns shifting and flowing like living calligraphy.
"Woah. What was that?"
"Tengen's Barrier," Gojo explained. "It hides the school from normal humans. Welcome to the other side, Red Devil."
The road straightened out, and as they rounded the next curve, Rome got his first glimpse of Tokyo Jujutsu College.
It was a sprawling complex of traditional Japanese buildings nestled into the mountainside. Massive torii gates marked the entrance, leading to a series of interconnected structures that seemed to glow softly in the moonlight. Stone lanterns lined the path, casting warm pools of light that guided the way up the mountain.
The car pulled up to what appeared to be the main gate, and Rome stepped out, tilting his head back to take in the full scale of the place.
"Holy shit. It's huge. It looks like a temple for rich people."
"Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College," Gojo announced, spreading his arms wide. "Home sweet home."
Rome's gaze traveled up the path ahead and settled on an endless flight of stone stairs leading up to the main complex.
"Do you guys have an elevator? Or are the steps necessary for the 'mystical monk' aesthetic?"
Gojo was already bounding up the stairs two at a time. "Cardio is part of the curriculum! Chop chop!"
Rome sighed and began trudging up after him, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
"You know," he called after Gojo, "for someone who can buy my debt, you could probably just buy an elevator for the trip."
"I could," Gojo agreed, not slowing down. "But then you'd miss the character-building experience of huffing and puffing your way to enlightenment. RACE YA!"
Character-building experience, my ass, Rome thought. This is hazing.
By the time they reached the top, Rome was ready to collapse. He bent over, hands on his knees, sucking in air like a drowning man.
"That wasn't... so bad," he wheezed, trying to salvage some dignity. "At least… I won!"
"Said the guy who looks like he's about to puke on my shoes."
Rome straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow. "Your shoes would be improved by it."
Gojo laughed, then turned toward the main building. "Come on. Let's get you settled in. Big day tomorrow."
The interior of the main building was a strange blend of traditional and modern. Paper sliding doors and tatami mats existed alongside state-of-the-art technology and contemporary furniture. It felt both ancient and timeless, like stepping into a place where the normal rules of reality were politely asked to wait outside.
"This is the common area," Gojo explained, gesturing to a large space with couches, a TV, and what looked like a fully-stocked kitchen. "Dormitories are upstairs that hall. You'll be in Room 203."
Gojo clapped him on the shoulder, then turned to leave. "Oh, one more thing."
"What?"
"The others... they're going to be curious about you."
Rome crossed his arms. "So?"
"So decide now who you want to be to them. The person you were at the Fight Club? Or someone new?"
Before Rome could answer, Gojo was gone, leaving him alone in the silent common room.
Who do I want to be? Rome thought. As if I have a choice.
He found his way to Room 203, sliding open the door to reveal a surprisingly spacious bedroom with a western-style bed, a desk, and a window overlooking the mountains. His duffel bag sat neatly on the bed, alongside a school uniform hanging from a hook on the wall.
Rome picked up the uniform, a dark blue jacket with high collars and matching pants. It looked like something out of a private school brochure.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, tossing it aside.
He unpacked his few belongings: some clothes, his toiletries, a worn paperback copy of "The Count of Monte Cristo", and a small wooden box containing a deck of playing cards.
The cards were his weapon of choice when using his Cursed Technique. Small, easy to charge with energy, and devastating on impact. He'd once taken out a Grade 2 curse with a single well-placed ace of spades.
Rome sat on the edge of the bed, rolling a card between his fingers. The familiar motion calmed him, centering his thoughts.
Four years. Four years to get strong enough to kill her.
His hand moved unconsciously to his forehead, touching the gauze that covered his scar. The mark she'd left him, both a brand and a promise.
"Seek me out when your hatred is finally enough to kill me."
Rome's eyes drifted to the uniform again. Who did he want to be? The Red Devil, the underground fighter who cared about nothing but money and power? Or someone else?
There is no 'someone else,' he thought bitterly. This is who I am. Who I've always been.
But as he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, a small, treacherous part of him wondered what it might be like to belong somewhere. To have peers instead of opponents. To have a purpose beyond revenge.
"Doesn't matter," he said aloud to the empty room. "I'm here for one reason only. Learn what I need to learn. Get strong. Find her. Kill her. Then I'm gone."