Summer light seeped slowly through the conference room windows.
Though morning had arrived, the room remained caught in a half-light like dawn, held in the long shadows cast by the mountains. The air drifting through the gaps in the sliding paper doors was stifling, smelling of old timber rather than the hum of a running air conditioner. Only the documents, photos, and the black paperweight pinning them to the desk caught the encroaching light.
Yaga Masamichi flipped through the files in silence.
Sitting across from him were Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, side by side. Itadori Yuji occupied a seat slightly removed from them, while Ieiri Shoko leaned against the wall by the window. Though her chin was propped on her hand with an air of indifference, her expression suggested she hadn't tuned out the room.
A single photograph slid across the desk.
"This is the target of your protection for this mission," Yaga said in a low voice.
The girl in the photo stared straight into the camera.
Black hair. A face with youthful features yet to fully mature. And yet, within her gaze, there was an unnervingly unwavering strength. It wasn't the look of a frightened child, nor was it particularly bright. It was the look of someone who already knew her life had been decided by others.
Amanai Riko.
Yuji's gaze lingered on the photo.
He knew this name.
But he didn't know her well enough to say he truly knew her.
Gojo had mentioned the past very rarely—truly, rarely. It wasn't on days when he was drunk, or feeling sentimental. In fact, it was always the furthest thing from those days. Fragments dropped in the aftermath of a battle, or on days when he lost someone and remained silent, only for the words to drift out much later as a passing comment.
A name that would occasionally mix into those fractured stories.
Amanai Riko.
The name of the deceased.
The girl who stood at the very center of Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru's time.
The epicenter of a beginning that became irreversible once that summer ended.
To Yuji, that was all the name meant.
Not someone with the warmth of life, but a proper noun for a past tragedy.
Yet now, the owner of that name was alive within the photo.
It was a strange feeling. He didn't feel nostalgia; he had never met her in the first place. He didn't feel glad to see her, either. He had never been close enough for such emotions to surface.
It was simply that the fact that a name he only knew for dying was now resting on the desk with a healthy face felt surreal and alien.
Yaga's voice continued.
"The Star Plasma Vessel. A girl destined to merge with Master Tengen (non-binary). The mission is simple: Protect Amanai Riko until the moment of the merger."
Gojo picked up the photo with two fingers.
"Amanai... she's quite a handful, isn't she?"
"Don't say such nonsense," Yaga cut him off immediately.
Geto flipped through the documents beside him.
"It looks like the leak to the outside has already finished."
"You should assume it's over." Yaga nodded.
"There are two confirmed factions currently. One is a religious group that denies the Star Plasma Vessel merger itself. The other is 'Q,' a group of curse users. Their goals differ, but the result is the same: the death of Riko, or the failure of the mission."
Gojo murmured, his chin still propped on his hand.
"So, if Amanai dies, it's trouble for Master Tengen, trouble for the Jujutsu world, and ultimately, just a giant pain for us."
"That is not incorrect."
"You really don't sugarcoat it, do you?"
Yaga didn't even dignify that with a response.
Gojo was always like this. It wasn't that he didn't take things seriously, but rather that he was the type to chew up and swallow the weight of seriousness in this manner. While he loathed uncomfortable structures head-on, he was also the type to be the first to throw himself into them.
Geto closed the final page of the document and asked, "What is the extent of the barrier support from Master Tengen's side?"
"Minimal."
"It's always the case, isn't it?"
Yaga exhaled a short breath. "Yes. That is why you are moving."
The instructions were simple.
As always, the crucial matters were condensed into a few lines, and the heavy burdens were left to the hands of those still living. Yuji looked at the photo on the desk once more.
Amanai Riko.
If this child dies, the summer in Gojo's memory begins.
Perhaps the path that led Geto to a point of no return truly began then as well.
However, what Yuji currently knew was only the final outcome. He didn't know what kind of child Riko was, how she laughed, how she got angry, or how she endured. He didn't know why Gojo had spoken her name as if swallowing it, only to eventually go silent. So, what he needed to hold onto now wasn't sentimentality, but facts.
This girl dies.
She had died.
And this time, he had to change that fact.
"Any questions?"
Gojo raised his hand at Yaga's question.
"I have one."
"Speak."
"That guy's coming along too, right?"
Gojo's chin pointed toward Yuji. Yaga shifted his gaze.
"He's going."
"Those damn geezers are really scared, aren't they? Or do they just not trust us enough?" Gojo chuckled. "They attach two of us and still feel insecure enough to pile on another?"
"Satoru," Geto called out sharply. "Save the teasing for later."
"No, I'm serious. This is a key point." Gojo continued, his smile remaining fixed. "Itadori Yuji... identity unknown, motives unknown. And they're letting him join a Star Plasma Vessel escort as his first mission? That's pretty bold for those elders."
"It is not boldness." Yaga's voice dropped lower. "They likely decided it's better to keep him where they can watch him."
Gojo's smile faded ever so slightly. Even if he spoke as if joking, he understood that this decision was born from a specific kind of fear.
Geto asked quietly, "Do the Higher-Ups believe that by leaving him to us, they can control him?"
"They didn't use the word 'control.'"
"Then?"
"They want to believe they can, at the very least, observe him."
Only then did Shoko let out a soft snort. "Pitiable."
No one disagreed. After a brief silence, Yuji spoke for the first time.
"When do we leave?"
Gojo looked away from the photo and toward him. The nature of the question was dry. It carried no sentiment regarding Riko as an individual, nor the weight of the mission. It was a voice asking only for what was necessary.
Yaga checked the clock instead of answering.
"We move today. First, contact the Star Plasma Vessel at her school. Securing her safety is the priority."
"And the escort lines?" Geto asked naturally.
"The core will be you and Satoru. Itadori will be positioned on the same line, not as rear support. Separate actions are permitted depending on the situation."
Hearing that, Gojo burst into laughter.
"Wow. They really are just putting an observer on us in broad daylight."
"The same applies to you."
"I'm not planning on playing hall monitor."
"No one asked you to."
Gojo remained himself, and Yaga remained the same. Yuji half-listened to their banter, looking down at the photo once more.
'The girl Sensei mentioned a few times... so it was this child.'
He knew the name, he knew she would die, and he knew the outcome of how that incident tore Gojo and Geto apart. But from now on, he would see it with his own eyes.
Her living face, her voice, her footsteps. And whether she truly had to die.
Then, just for a brief moment.
Yuji's senses brushed against something.
He didn't lift his head. His eyes didn't move. But his perception was clearly stretched outward.
The flow of Cursed Energy in the meeting room, Gojo and Geto, Yaga and Shoko, and the minute vibrations of the barrier flowing along the walls. Amidst those familiar things, there was something that did not blend in.
Nothingness.
To be precise, it was visible because it wasn't there.
An ordinary sorcerer would have missed it. Because there was no Cursed Energy to sense.
But to Yuji, that void was far too distinct. A flow that the surrounding world assumed should exist was carved out at a single point, far in the distance, leaving an empty spot. It wasn't an absence of Cursed Energy; it was an entirely different mode of existence.
Yuji's finger twitched slightly under the desk.
Gojo did not miss that minute change.
"What is it?"
Yuji didn't answer immediately. The sensation vanished quickly. It was as if the other party realized Yuji had noticed at the same moment, and deliberately erased their tracks.
Geto looked at Gojo, then back to Yuji.
"Is something there?"
"Not yet." Yuji's voice was low. "I'm not sure."
It wasn't a lie. He had certainty, but not enough information to pinpoint an identity. However, one thing was clear.
Something was already moving.
This wasn't the simple movement of a curse user. It was a method closer to one who kills naturally, slipping through the gaps in detection without being caught by barriers. Yuji knew that kind of existence. Or rather, he knew the result of it.
Fushiguro Toji.
He wasn't certain of the name just yet. But his instincts reacted first. This was no ordinary enemy. It wasn't an existence that operated by the common sense of sorcerers.
Yaga asked, as if trying to read Yuji's expression, "If you felt something strange, speak now."
Yuji thought for a moment before replying briefly. "Their movements might be fast."
"The enemy?"
"Yeah."
Gojo stopped smiling and asked, "What's your basis for that?"
"Just a gut feeling."
Gojo's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is it a reliable one?"
Yuji looked at Gojo. "So far, it has been."
It was a short exchange, but the atmosphere shifted. Gojo wasn't the type to believe such things easily, yet he became halfway serious. This wasn't the face of someone giving a vague, evasive answer. Geto was even faster; he was already mentally rearranging the mission routes—the possibility of the enemy being faster than expected, the potential for barrier evasion, even the possibility of a preemptive strike before they reached Riko.
Shoko pushed off from the wall. "So we're going to be running ourselves to death from the start, then?"
Gojo chuckled. "Wasn't that always the plan?"
"Only because you're always the one running."
Yaga stood up. "Get ready. We reassemble in thirty minutes. We'll coordinate the specific routes while moving."
Geto rose immediately. Gojo looked down at the photo one last time and flicked it with his fingertip.
"Amanai Riko." He murmured lightly. "Well, it's a mission. Let's make it count."
Yuji didn't respond. The girl in the photo remained on the desk.
A name he had only known for dying.
Gojo was walking toward the door when he suddenly turned back.
"Itadori."
"What."
"That gut feeling from earlier." Gojo asked with a face devoid of a smile. "Was it real?"
Yuji looked out the window for a moment. The morning winter light had risen higher. The forest was silent, and the school was peaceful. It was so peaceful it actually felt sickening.
"I don't know," he replied. "But..."
He paused briefly. "I think it'd be better if we got there before it's too late."
With those words, Yuji was the first to leave his seat.
The chair scraped very faintly against the floor. While the sound lingered in the room, Gojo and Geto shared a glance. An inexplicable sense of wrongness. And yet, an intuition far too accurate to ignore.
Yaga filed the documents away, and Shoko let out a small sigh where a cigarette would usually be. Just like that, everyone began to move.
No one knew yet.
They could only understand in their own ways that they were walking straight into the heart of a summer that would tear so many things apart.
Only Yuji knew.
There was still time. But that didn't mean time was on their side.
And very far away, at the edge of the barrier's detection range—a single void that left no trace began to move, quietly, so very quietly.