In the summer of their second year at Jujutsu High, Gojou Satoru notices something wrong with his best friend. Getou Suguru is absorbing cursed spirits alone, coming back hollowed out and sick, wearing a smile that's thinner every time Satoru sees it. The strongest sorcerer in Japan can see everything through the Six Eyes—except how to put into words what's slipping away between them. In the neon-lit alleys and quiet dorm halls, between shared daifuku and unspoken worries, Satoru keeps reaching
Until the Strongest Choose Each Other Again - Shouko's examination room and the shadow of the higher-ups
The sight of Getou's back in that alley wouldn't leave my head.
Morning light spilled through the covered walkways of the technical school. The July air was already muggy, and the cicadas had begun crying somewhere in the distance. Gojou Satoru pushed up his sunglasses as he headed for the medical wing behind the main building. A black high-neck shirt, his uniform worn sloppily open. Silver-white hair swayed with each stride of his long legs.
(That murkiness wasn't normal.)
Last night, in the alley—Getou, vomiting. The cloudiness in his cursed energy that the Six Eyes had caught. A gritty black, like muddy water stirred up. Getou was a user of Cursed Spirit Manipulation; his cursed energy should have been far clearer than that. The deep, quiet color of a man who had tamed the curses he'd swallowed, keeping them leashed inside himself. But now it looked as though he were being corroded from within.
(Should I talk to someone about this?)
Satoru muttered it inside his head. Born as the head of the Gojou clan, gifted with the Six Eyes and Limitless from the moment of his birth, Satoru had never once gone to anyone for advice. Because I'm the strongest. That had settled everything. But this was different. When it came to Getou, he had no idea what to do.
The door to the medical wing was half-open, as always.
Ieiri Shouko's lab sat at the very back of the building, in the spot with the worst sunlight. The air had its own particular smell—disinfectant mixed with cigarette smoke. Technique research papers were pinned to the walls, and on the desk lay a half-read medical text and a half-finished cup of coffee.
Shouko was at her desk, flipping through some documents. A short bob of brownish-black hair, always a little sleep-mussed. Her narrow brown eyes looked perpetually drowsy, and a beauty mark sat beneath her left eye. In her white coat, she looked less like a classmate and more like an older doctor.
" Well, well, Gojou. What brings you to the medical wing? Did a curse bite you?"
She spoke without looking up. Same blunt tone as ever. Satoru shrugged and stepped inside.
" Sadly, I'm completely unhurt. I just wanted to talk."
" Talk? You? It's bound to be nothing good."
Shouko finally raised her head. Her brown eyes fixed on the space behind Satoru's sunglasses. This woman was always like this—she said things as though she could see straight through whatever was on your mind.
Satoru leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
"It's about Getou."
At those words, her fingers stopped for just a moment.
"...Getou?"
"Yeah. I saw him last night, on his way back from a mission. He was throwing up in an alley."
Satoru was remembering the scene. That long black hair plastered to his cheeks with sweat, one hand braced against the wall as he vomited. Getou was usually so composed, so immaculate—Satoru had never seen him that defenseless, that anguished.
"I saw it with the Six Eyes. His cursed energy was horribly clouded. Gritty, like muddy water—like it was rotting from the inside out."
Shouko was silent for a while. She set her pen down on the desk and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes narrowed, just slightly.
" ...Are you sure you know what you're saying?"
"I came here because I do know."
" If you don't notice, then who will?"
Her voice had gone suddenly cold. A woman who rarely showed emotion—right now she looked plainly angry.
"You're the closest one to Getou, aren't you? If you don't notice, who will? Even if I noticed, he wouldn't show it to me. But to you—"
She cut herself off there. She bit her lip and turned her gaze to the window.
"...Sorry. That was too much."
"No, you're right. I hate that you're right, but you are."
Satoru gave a bitter smile. Shouko was right. The one closest to Getou was him. And yet he hadn't understood a thing—what Getou was suffering over, why he was pushing himself so hard.
" So, the cloudiness you saw with the Six Eyes—how bad is it?"
Shouko asked it in her doctor's voice. Satoru sifted through the memories of last night, choosing his words.
"If I had to compare it to something—it's like ink dropped into clear water. The surface is holding together somehow, but the bottom is black and stagnant. That lingering aftertaste of negative emotion you get right after swallowing a curse—it was stuck to his cursed energy like a stain."
"...He's taking in too many."
Shouko sighed.
"Getou's technique condenses curses into spheres and absorbs them into his body. Every curse he takes in becomes fighting strength—but in exchange, he experiences that curse's negative emotions directly. Of course he's nauseous. That technique grinds away at your mind."
"I know. But lately he's been absorbing them in huge numbers on missions. And alone, too."
" His cursed energy depletion might have reached a dangerous level."
Shouko's words landed heavily.
"Is cursed energy depletion really that bad?"
"It's a state where overusing your technique erodes your own mind. Cursed Spirit Manipulation is especially pronounced. Every time he absorbs one, Getou's heart breaks a little more. If things continue like this, eventually—"
She stopped herself.
"Eventually?"
"...I can't say it out loud. But it's far more serious than you think."
Satoru fell silent. Something deep in his chest ached sharply.
(I didn't know anything.)
He'd been so sure he was the strongest. He'd thought the Six Eyes let him see everything. And yet he hadn't noticed the change in his closest friend until this very moment. No—he had noticed. He'd noticed, and he'd looked away.
"...Thanks, Shouko."
Satoru forced the words out.
" What's this, thanking me so honestly? Creepy."
Shouko snorted. But her eyes were kind.
"If there's anything I can do, just say it. I don't want to watch you and Getou fall apart together."
" You actually say something decent once in a while."
" Shut up. I'm not worried about a couple of trash bags. It's just a pain when my patient count goes up."
For the first time, Satoru felt just a little of the relief that came from confiding in someone. The thing he'd been carrying alone felt a fraction lighter.
(But this isn't the end.)
Just because he'd told Shouko didn't mean Getou would get better. If anything, the real fight was only beginning.
As Satoru was about to leave the medical wing, his phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen. A message from the Curse Technique General Headquarters.
" ...It's from the higher-ups. As head of the Gojou clan, I'm ordered to attend the regular meeting."
" You get summoned by the higher-ups a lot, don't you."
"I guess. Just because I'm the head of the Gojou clan, those old geezers keep calling me in. What a pain."
Satoru shoved his phone into his pocket.
"Be careful. The higher-ups don't like you."
" Don't worry. I'm the strongest."
Satoru waved a hand airily and left the medical wing behind.
The regular meeting of the Curse Technique General Headquarters was held in the basement of an old building in the city.
On the surface it was just an office building. But once you descended below ground, the air changed entirely. Barriers were stretched across the corridors, and several sorcerers stood guard. The governing body of the jujutsu world—the central organ of an organization that managed roughly four thousand sorcerers nationwide.
When Satoru entered the meeting room, the old men of the upper echelon were already seated.
All of them wore kimono or formal crested hakama. The power brokers of the jujutsu world, built on old bloodlines and factions, steeped in antiquated thinking. As head of the Gojou clan, Satoru should by rights have taken the seat of honor—but they always treated him like a brat.
" You're late, Gojou."
A white-haired old man spoke in a syrupy drawl.
" The summons was sudden. I have a schedule too, you know."
Satoru shot back in a deliberately flippant tone. He dropped heavily into an empty chair, crossed his long legs, and surveyed the old men through his sunglasses.
" You lack awareness of your duties as clan head. The Gojou name weeps."
" I'm pretty sure the ones dragging the Gojou name through the mud are your little faction wars."
At Satoru's words, the air in the room turned taut. The old men's expressions shifted.
"...Today, we have a report."
The white-haired old man cleared his throat and changed the subject.
"It concerns Getou Suguru."
Satoru's heart jumped.
(Getou?)
"Getou's attitude toward his recent missions is beyond what we can overlook. The number of curses he's absorbing has increased abnormally. It's technique abuse. We are forced to conclude he lacks the aptitude of a sorcerer."
The old man's voice was cold.
"We consider that man dangerous. At this rate, he may even step outside the bounds of a sorcerer entirely."
Satoru narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses.
(These bastards—they're talking about Getou like—)
"Hold on. Getou is a special-grade sorcerer. He's completing his missions. Where exactly is the problem?"
Satoru's voice dropped low.
" The problem is his mental state. Cursed Spirit Manipulation erodes the user's mind. Getou's erosion is nearing its limit. In time, he will lose his judgment as a sorcerer."
"So what's the problem with that? Getou has protected countless non-sorcerers. He genuinely believes that jujutsu exists to protect non-sorcerers. A man like that doesn't just lose his judgment."
Satoru refused to back down.
" Gojou. Do not bring personal feelings into this. This is the organization's judgment."
"Personal feelings? Of course I have personal feelings. Getou is my best friend. If something happens, I'll take responsibility."
Satoru pressed his hands to the table and rose to his feet.
" Do not disrupt the field with the personal feelings of the Gojou clan head."
The old man's voice rang through the room.
"The more you shield Getou, the more that man will be marked as a dangerous element. Don't you understand? Your very existence is driving Getou into a corner."
Satoru was struck speechless.
(Because of me—Getou is—)
"We will double Getou's missions. With that, we will ascertain that man's true worth."
"Wait! That'll just make him—"
" It is decided. Objections are not permitted."
The meeting ended there.
Satoru clenched his fist. His nails bit into his palm. Hard enough to draw blood.
(In the face of the organization's logic, my feelings mean nothing.)
He was supposed to be the strongest. Supposed to be unbeatable.
But before those old men of the upper echelon, he was just a seventeen-year-old kid.
That evening, Satoru invited Getou out to eat.
" Let's go get some cold soba."
Satoru made his voice deliberately bright.
" Sounds good. I was just getting hungry."
Getou answered with his usual gentle smile. His long black hair stirred in the evening breeze. The black gauge earrings at his ears glinted faintly.
The two of them left through the school's back gate and headed down the mountain road. It was a forty-minute bus ride through the mountains to the nearest station. The little soba shop in front of the station was a favorite of theirs.
The shop was fairly busy with evening customers. The two of them took a seat in the back on the tatami.
"Two orders of cold soba. And a plate of mixed tempura."
When Satoru ordered, Getou gave a wry smile.
" You eat so much, as always. Tempura too?"
" I'm still growing. Besides, food just tastes better when I'm eating with you."
" Well, thank you. I'm honored."
The soba arrived. Thin, white noodles piled on the bamboo strainer. The scent of the dipping sauce tickled his nose.
For a while, the two of them slurped their soba in silence.
(Now.)
Satoru set down his chopsticks.
"Hey, Getou."
" What is it?"
"There's something bothering you, isn't there."
Satoru looked straight into Getou's eyes.
Getou's hand stopped for just a moment.
" Something bothering me? Not particularly—"
"Don't lie to me.
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.