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 - Beside the Strongest, a Morning Smiling with You
Morning light seeped in thin through the gap in the curtains.
The room was still dim. The air was cool, and though it was a summer morning, there was something of autumn mixed into it.
Gojou Satoru sat beside the bed, watching Getou Suguru sleep. He hadn't slept a wink. And yet, strangely, he wasn't tired.
(Ah. Right. So I've been sitting here like this all night.)
The thought drifted through his mind, vague and distant.
Last night replayed itself slowly in his head. The pulse of jet-black cursed energy spilling from Suguru's room. The sight that had rushed in the moment he opened the door—Suguru trying to force a mass of cursed spirits down his own throat. His face, soaked with tears. And then—
"Will you stop me?"
That voice still lingered deep in his ears.
Satoru stared at Suguru's sleeping face. Long black hair spread across the white pillow. Those narrow eyes were closed, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. The black gauge earrings near his ears caught the morning light in a dull glint.
(His sleeping face hasn't changed at all.)
Since they were kids, Suguru had always slept like this. Calm, quiet, like a person with nothing weighing on him at all. But the moment he woke, he'd put on that thin smile.
(I don't want to see that smile anymore.)
Satoru clenched his fist.
That was when it happened.
Buzz, buzz—his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Satoru pulled it out slowly. When he saw the caller ID, all expression drained from his face.
"Jujutsu Headquarters — Upper Management."
(...So it's come.)
After last night's call, Satoru had braced himself. The higher-ups had contacted him to report that they'd observed Suguru's cursed energy rampage. Which meant—there was no more time.
He pressed the call button.
"...Yeah."
"Gojou Satoru. This is a continuation of last night's discussion. Come to headquarters immediately. We will render a formal decision regarding Getou Suguru's disposition."
An emotionless old man's voice came through the receiver.
"Listen well, Gojou. This is for your own good as well. Cut Getou loose."
Deep in Satoru's chest, something slowly grew hot.
(Cut him loose, is it?)
(Like hell.)
Satoru gripped the phone. His fingertips trembled faintly.
"...Yeah, got it. I'll be there. But I'm not bringing Suguru. I'm coming alone."
"What? You alone—"
"And if you've got a problem with that, I'll respond as befits the head of the Gojou family."
Satoru hung up without waiting for a reply.
The flat, mechanical tone of the disconnected line.
He exhaled deeply.
(Better get going.)
He turned toward the sleeping Suguru.
(I'll be back soon. Wait for me, Suguru.)
Satoru pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket. A half-used memo pad from the dorms. He wrote a few short words on it.
"Back soon. Don't go anywhere. — Satoru"
A thin strip of paper, like a tanzaku slip. He placed it gently beside Suguru's pillow.
Then he put his sunglasses back on and ran a hand carelessly through his silver-white hair.
(You fossilized relics in upper management. I'll clean up every last one of you.)
He left the room quietly.
Third basement floor of a mixed-use building in Chiyoda.
Jujutsu Headquarters, Tokyo Branch.
On the surface, it was just the basement of an old building like any other. But beyond that door lay the nerve center of the national institution that governed the jujutsu world.
Satoru descended the stairs slowly.
His footsteps echoed off the cold concrete walls. The air was heavy and damp, carrying the smell of old paper and dust.
(Still as gloomy as ever.)
He clicked his tongue internally.
At last he stood before a heavy iron door. He pushed it open without knocking.
The hinges groaned.
Inside the conference room, several old men sat around a long table. The upper management of Jujutsu Headquarters—the decision-making body of the jujutsu world, composed of bloodlines and factions.
Every one of them turned to look at Satoru at once.
"Yo, esteemed relics. Heard you called for me, so here I am."
Satoru spoke with deliberate lightness.
The old men's faces twisted with displeasure in an instant.
"Gojou Satoru. Your mouth hasn't improved, I see."
The old man seated at the center spoke in a low voice. Bald head, deep wrinkles, and sharp eyes that appraised him like livestock.
"So the talk's about Suguru, right? Make it quick. I haven't had breakfast yet."
Satoru spoke without even bothering to sit at the edge of the table.
"...Regarding Getou Suguru's cursed energy rampage, we hold grave concerns."
The old man spoke flatly.
"Last night's observation data showed Getou's cursed energy far exceeding the acceptable range for a special-grade sorcerer. One could well call it an awakening as a curse user."
"Hah? Awakening? You're saying Suguru's going to become a curse user?"
Satoru's voice dropped.
"I speak of possibility. Getou's technique is Cursed Spirit Manipulation. He absorbs and controls cursed spirits. That power, misused, could cause a disaster on a national scale. You understand this as well."
"So what? Suguru has fought all this time as a sorcerer, to protect non-sorcerers. And you're saying that Suguru will become a curse user? Don't make me laugh."
Satoru took a step toward the table.
"Gojou. You underestimate Getou far too much."
Another old man spoke up.
"Getou Suguru has, for the past several months, made no effort to hide his hostility toward non-sorcerers during missions. The incident at Akatsuki Village is one example. When he took into protective custody twin girls who had been abused by the village's non-sorcerers, Getou directed clear killing intent at the villagers. It is documented in the report."
Satoru's heart gave a heavy thud.
(The Akatsuki Village incident...)
What Suguru had seen in that village, what he had felt—Satoru had thought he understood. But hearing the word "killing intent" come from the mouths of the higher-ups made him realize the situation was far more serious than he'd believed.
"Getou is a dangerous element. If left unchecked, the order of the entire jujutsu world will collapse. We hold the authority to determine Getou Suguru's punishment."
The old man's words were cold.
"Punishment? What kind of punishment?"
"Sealing of his cursed energy. Revocation of his sorcerer license. Depending on circumstances, designation as a curse user and a target for exorcism."
Satoru's vision went white for an instant.
(Target for exorcism...?)
(You're going to kill Suguru?)
He clenched his fist. His nails dug into his palm. The pain sharpened his mind.
"...Fine by me."
Satoru spoke quietly.
The old men all looked at him at once.
"What?"
"I said, fine by me. If you're going to lay a hand on Suguru, then as head of the Gojou family, I will crush every last one of you with everything I have."
Satoru removed his sunglasses.
His blue eyes blazed with an unnatural brilliance in the dim light of the conference room. The Six Eyes. The singular ocular power passed down through the Gojou family, capable of perceiving cursed energy with extreme precision.
Those eyes read every flicker of the old men's cursed energy without exception.
(They're panicking.)
(It's not that they see Suguru as dangerous—it's that his existence threatens their own self-preservation, so they want him gone.)
Satoru's Six Eyes clearly captured the minute disturbances in the higher-ups' cursed energy. Fear. Impatience. And malice they couldn't quite hide.
"Gojou Satoru. Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. I'll take full responsibility for Suguru. Keep your hands off him."
Satoru didn't back down an inch.
"That man is a dangerous element. The Gojou name will be sullied."
"There are things more important than a family name."
Satoru's voice was quiet. But within that quietness was a strength that would never waver.
"Losing Suguru—that's what would stain my name."
The conference room fell dead silent.
The old men exchanged glances. No one spoke.
Satoru's Six Eyes sensed their cursed energy wavering between anger and fear.
(I can push through.)
(With my position, I can push through.)
He was certain.
"...Understood. Then accept our conditions."
After a long silence, the old man at the center finally spoke.
"Full supervisory responsibility for Getou Suguru falls to you, Gojou Satoru. If Getou rampages again, you will stake your position as head of the Gojou family and take responsibility."
"Fine. If anything happens, I'll take full responsibility. That works, right?"
Satoru answered immediately.
The old men nodded at each other, faces sour as if they'd bitten into a bitter bug.
"...The punishment is hereby suspended. However, Getou Suguru's movements will be under constant surveillance. That much you will accept."
"Yeah, do whatever you want. But if you lay a hand on Suguru—then I'll send every last one of you to hell."
Satoru put his sunglasses back on and turned his back.
"Hey, Gojou Satoru."
One of the old men called after him.
"Why are you so fixated on Getou?"
Satoru answered without turning around.
"Because I want to make that guy smile."
And with that, he left the conference room.
By the time he returned to the dorms, the sun was already high.
Walking down the hallway, Satoru stopped in front of Suguru's door.
(Is he awake?)
He knocked softly.
Knock, knock.
No answer.
(Still asleep?)
He opened the door quietly.
The room was filled with morning light.
On the bed, Getou Suguru sat up, gazing out the window. Long black hair cascaded from his shoulders down his back. His narrow eyes were half-lidded as if looking at something far away, and his profile seemed somehow sorrowful.
"...Morning, Suguru. You're awake?"
Satoru called out with deliberate cheer.
Suguru turned slowly toward him.
"Satoru. Good morning."
Suguru's voice was still a little hoarse. From crying and screaming last night.
Satoru walked to the side of the bed and lowered himself to the floor.
"You okay? Your body, I mean."
"...Yes. I'm sorry to have worried you."
Suguru nodded slightly.
"Worrying about you is nothing new. I've been worried about you this whole time."
Satoru said it with a light laugh.
Suguru lowered his eyes a little.
"...Satoru, I'm sorry."
His voice trembled faintly.
"Last night—showing you that side of me. I couldn't stop myself."
"Don't apologize."
Satoru said it instantly.
Suguru looked up.
"I should've noticed sooner. I should've known all along that you were carrying everything alone. I'm supposed to be the strongest, and I couldn't see what was happening to you."
Satoru's voice was quiet. But his words were steeped in deep regret.
"Satoru, you did nothing wrong."
Suguru shook his head.
"The one at fault is me. Because I was weak. I caused you worry, caused you trouble—"
"Suguru."
Satoru cut him off.
"From now on, don't carry it all alone. I'm here. No matter what happens, I'll be right beside you."
Satoru looked straight into Suguru's eyes.
Suguru's narrow eyes wavered.
"...Satoru, you really are kind."
Suguru smiled faintly. But that smile still held a shadow somewhere.
"I'm not kind. I'm just saying this because you matter to me."
Satoru said it, looking slightly embarrassed.
After a long silence, Suguru said quietly:
"...Yes."
The voice was very small, but it reached Satoru's chest all the same.
Satoru put his arm around Suguru's shoulders.
Suguru's body was still a little stiff. But it wasn't trembling like last night.
The two of them sat side by side in silence for a while.
Outside the window, cicadas sang. Summer sunlight flooded the room in white.
Satoru's Six Eyes sensed that the murk in Suguru's cursed energy had thinned, just slightly, compared to last night.
(It hasn't completely disappeared.)
(But it's a little better.)
Something deep in Satoru's chest grew warm.
Several hours later.
Satoru took Suguru to the school cafeteria.
It was past the lunch rush, and the place was nearly empty. Old wooden tables and chairs were arranged
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