Chapter 88: Satoru Gojo's Fury
Boom!!!
The dome of the Higher Ups' chamber exploded outward.
Moonlight poured into the conference room in a flood of silver, washing over shattered beams, drifting dust, and the pale faces of the old men below. Debris rained down in every direction, but before anyone could even react, they saw the figure suspended in the opening above.
White hair.
Blindfold.
And a presence so overwhelming it made the air itself feel sharp.
Gojo Satoru had returned.
He was not smiling.
He was not carrying sweets from some trip abroad.
He did not look amused, lazy, or even mildly irritated.
He looked furious.
Not loud fury.
Not theatrical fury.
The kind that turned the atmosphere viscous and made breathing feel dangerous.
The killing intent pouring off him filled the entire room like a rising tide.
He descended slowly, landing amid the wreckage with a crunch of broken wood under his boots.
Then he looked around.
First at the shattered conference table.
Then at Yami, still standing in the middle of the room, bloodstained and calm.
And finally at the trembling elders, those so called pillars of the Jujutsu world, who now looked like a pack of rats trapped in a burning storehouse.
Gojo's voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Really."
He took another step forward.
"You people just keep finding new ways to disgust me."
No one answered.
No one dared.
Gojo's head turned slightly toward the elders behind the broken screens.
"While I was overseas, you sent my student on a death mission."
His tone remained even.
"You baited the site with a Special Grade cursed object, set up a sealed battlefield, prepared three Special Grade cursed spirits, and wrapped the whole thing in a fused Domain meant to make sure he never came back."
He paused.
Then, with a faint tilt of his head, he asked,
"And you still want to talk about the future of the Jujutsu world?"
The words were not shouted.
They landed anyway like hammer blows.
One of the oldest members of the Higher Ups, his face drained of color, forced himself to stand. His legs were shaking hard enough that his robes trembled with him.
"Gojo Satoru!"
His voice cracked halfway through the name.
"What do you think you are doing?! This is the seat of the Higher Ups! The highest authority in the Jujutsu world!"
He pointed a crooked finger toward Yami.
"That boy defied orders, trespassed into this sacred chamber, and threatened the Higher Ups! We were only following the rules!"
"Rules?"
Gojo laughed.
It was not his usual laughter.
There was nothing bright in it.
Nothing playful.
It sounded like rage being given shape.
"You want to talk to me about rules?"
He slowly lifted one hand.
His index finger pointed toward the old man.
"Fine."
A tiny spark of red gathered at the tip.
"Then let me make one for you."
"[Cursed Technique Lapse: Red.]"
Boom!
The old man vanished.
No scream.
No time to react.
One moment he was standing there, full of trembling outrage. The next, he had been obliterated by a compressed blast of repulsive force and launched straight through three walls of the compound before slamming into a distant tree outside.
What remained of him barely resembled a person.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The surviving elders were frozen where they stood, their faces gray with terror.
He had done it.
He had really done it.
In the chamber of the Higher Ups.
In the heart of the old Jujutsu establishment.
Gojo Satoru had killed one of them without the slightest hesitation.
He looked down at the rest.
"Anyone else?"
His hand dropped lazily to his side.
"What was it you were saying about rules?"
No one answered.
No one could.
Gojo took another step, and the cursed energy radiating off him deepened. It was not just pressure anymore. It was certainty. The certainty that if he chose to, he could wipe the entire chamber off the mountain and sleep perfectly well afterward.
"I don't mind," he said softly, "helping you all renovate the Jujutsu world tonight."
His gaze was cold.
"Rotten fruit doesn't belong on the tree forever."
That did it.
Several of the remaining elders collapsed outright.
"Gojo… please…"
"You can't…"
"We are the ones who preserve the order of Tengen's world…"
One clutched the floor with both hands.
Another crawled backward in panic, his dignity gone.
They threw titles around like broken shields, as if names and old systems could still protect them now.
Gojo was already raising his hand again.
This time, there was no warning in his eyes.
Only execution.
Then a hand touched his shoulder.
"Sensei."
Yami's voice cut through the room.
Calm.
Steady.
Unforced.
Gojo paused.
The cursed energy surging around him eased by the slightest degree, enough to stop the room from imploding.
He turned his head.
Yami stood beside him, expression composed despite the blood and battle damage still marking his body.
"You don't need to stop me," Gojo said.
His voice remained low, but the fury beneath it had not faded.
"These people are rotten all the way through. Letting them keep breathing is just asking for trouble."
"I know," Yami replied.
He looked toward the trembling elders.
A faint, almost amused curve touched the corner of his mouth.
"But killing them now would be too merciful."
That got everyone's attention.
Gojo's head tilted slightly.
The elders went even paler.
Yami stepped away from him and walked toward one of the old men collapsed on the floor. He stopped in front of him and looked down in silence for a moment.
The difference between them was so great it felt obscene.
Yami spoke without raising his voice.
"Death is simple."
His eyes remained fixed on the elder beneath him.
"For people who cling to power, status, and their own continued survival…"
He smiled very slightly.
"Living in fear is worse."
He turned back to Gojo.
"And besides."
The glint in his eyes sharpened.
"If they all die here, who exactly is going to approve my promotion?"
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then Yami added, almost mildly,
"After all, I just completed a mission that even a Special Grade sorcerer would have found troublesome."
Gojo stared at him for half a second.
Then he burst out laughing.
This time, it was his real laugh.
Sharp, delighted, almost manic.
He laughed so hard he had to throw a hand over his face.
Then he stepped forward and slapped Yami heavily on the shoulder.
"Good."
His grin widened.
"That's my student."
He turned toward the elders again, the killing intent no longer at full boil, but replaced by something they probably found even worse.
Playfulness.
Cruel, cold, and very interested.
"You heard him."
Gojo spread his hands.
"My student is being generous."
He smiled beneath the blindfold.
"Try to appreciate it."
Then his tone shifted again, snapping into business with terrifying ease.
"In light of Yami's performance on this mission, and in light of the fact that some of you tried very hard to have him murdered…"
He pointed lazily toward them.
"I'm proposing that he be promoted immediately to Special Grade."
Silence.
Then panic.
One of the elders shakily raised a hand.
"W we agree, but…"
Gojo's head turned.
"But?"
The old man nearly choked.
"According to the regulations of the Jujutsu world, a Special Grade evaluation still requires…"
"Requires what?" Yami asked.
The elder flinched.
Yami reached into his pocket and took out the three faintly pulsing cursed cores. He tossed them lightly once in his palm.
The room's temperature seemed to drop again just from seeing them.
"Actual results?" Yami asked.
He held the cores up slightly.
"These three Special Grades were not enough?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Or do you want to test my strength yourselves?"
The elder recoiled so hard he nearly toppled over again.
"No!"
His head shook frantically.
"No further testing is necessary!"
Of course it wasn't.
Three mutated Special Grades and a fused Domain had failed to kill him. The only people here were bureaucrats hiding behind ceremony and inherited authority. Against Yami, they would not even count as targets.
"Then that settles it," Gojo said brightly.
He snapped his fingers.
"But."
He lifted one hand before anyone could relax.
"Since Yami doesn't have cursed energy, and since you people are going to keep clinging to procedure like it's a religion…"
His grin sharpened.
"We'll still do the formal evaluation."
He turned to Yami and gave him a quick, deliberate look.
"Three days from now."
His voice carried across the ruined chamber.
"At Tokyo Jujutsu High."
"We'll hold a full Special Grade evaluation in public."
He faced the elders again.
"And I'll invite every clan, every observer, and every useless old traditionalist with an opinion to come watch."
The pressure in the room shifted once more.
No one missed what he was doing.
This was no longer just about promotion.
It was going to be a demonstration.
A warning.
A public execution of doubt.
Gojo's smile widened.
"I want everyone in the Jujutsu world to see it with their own eyes."
His voice dropped.
"What a real monster looks like."
.....
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