Chapter 115: Hidden Inventory · The Strongest Trio
The battle was over, but the abandoned building still groaned around them.
Dust drifted through the broken walls. Half-collapsed pillars jutted out from the rubble like exposed bones, and the remnants of the Curtain above them slowly peeled away, letting sunlight spill back into the ruined construction site.
The Semi-Special Grade Cursed Spirit had already dissolved, but its residue lingered in the air, sticky and foul. The place smelled of burnt concrete, acid, and rot.
Gojo Satoru stepped over a cracked slab of cement and kicked a loose chunk of rubble aside.
"Hey, Yami."
He leaned forward without the slightest sense of personal space, his small round sunglasses sliding down just enough for the Six Eyes to study Yami from head to toe.
"You're seriously weird."
Yami brushed dust off his collar. "That's how you start a conversation?"
"I'm being polite." Gojo pointed at his chest. "Your muscle density is around three times that of a normal person. Your bones are ridiculously tough, your cardiopulmonary function is stupidly high, and your body temperature has been hovering above thirty-eight degrees this whole time."
He tilted his head, curiosity bright in his eyes.
"A normal person's brain would already be cooking. You, though? You look fine."
Gojo's grin sharpened.
"That strange breathing thing of yours. Is this one of its side effects?"
Yami straightened his slightly wrinkled uniform and did not bother denying it.
"You could call it that."
"Oh?"
"It's called Total Concentration: Constant," Yami said. "By maintaining a special breathing rhythm, the body stays in a state close to combat readiness at all times. The burden is heavy, but it's a shortcut to becoming stronger."
Gojo rubbed his chin.
"Total Concentration: Constant…"
He tasted the words like he was deciding whether they sounded cool enough.
"Not bad. Pretty flashy name."
Then his tone changed.
"But."
There it was. That familiar annoying lift at the corner of his mouth.
"That curse just now? If Suguru and I had fought seriously from the start, it would've been gone in three minutes."
Geto Suguru sighed from the side. "Satoru."
"What? I'm right."
Gojo ignored him and continued poking at the truth with the precision of a knife.
"Your physical skill is strong. I'll admit that much. But no Cursed Energy is still a fatal flaw. That last throw only worked because Suguru and I broke its guard. If we hadn't helped, your steel pipe wouldn't have pierced the core."
It was arrogant.
It was also true.
Right now, Yami had lost Shiranui. His synchronization was unstable because of the time travel, and his body still had not fully recovered from being thrown through the turbulence of spacetime.
Against a Semi-Special Grade Cursed Spirit, his current strength was enough to fight.
But not enough to overwhelm.
Yami was not offended.
He looked at Gojo calmly.
"Yeah."
Gojo blinked, as if he had expected a sharper reaction.
Yami continued, "That's why I called it a practical teaching session."
"Hah?"
"A truly strong person doesn't just know how to use their own power," Yami said. "They also know how to use the strength of their companions."
Gojo's expression twitched.
Yami turned his gaze toward the remains of the Cursed Spirit.
"In that fight, if I had been alone, I would have had to struggle. If it had been only the two of you, you might have wasted time because you underestimated it."
He paused.
Then his eyes swept over Gojo and Geto.
"But with the three of us together…"
Yami smiled.
"We're invincible."
The word settled into the sunlight between them.
Gojo froze for a breath.
Geto's eyes shifted slightly.
Yami said it naturally, as if it were not praise, but a fact.
"The strongest trio," he added. "Doesn't that sound right?"
Gojo clicked his tongue and turned his face away.
"Tch. Who's a trio with you?"
His ears, however, had gone faintly red.
"Suguru and I are the strongest. You're just extra baggage."
"Extra baggage that saved you time."
"Barely."
"You nearly got lectured by a guy with a steel pipe."
"That never happened."
"It absolutely happened," Geto said mildly.
"Suguru, whose side are you on?"
"The side of truth."
"Betrayal. I'll remember this."
Geto only smiled, helpless and gentle.
"All right, that's enough. The mission is complete. We should head back and report to Principal Yaga."
At the mention of Masamichi Yaga, Gojo's entire face collapsed.
"Ah. Damn it. I have to write another reflection letter."
Geto glanced around at the ruined building.
"You broke several support pillars."
"I broke one."
"Three."
"Two at most."
"And a stairwell."
"That was already ugly."
"Satoru."
Gojo groaned dramatically and threw an arm over his face.
"Suguru, I'll leave the reflection letter to you."
"No."
"You're so cold."
"You do your own work."
Watching them bicker, Yami felt something tighten in his chest.
There they were.
Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru before everything split apart.
Before the Star Plasma Vessel mission carved blood into their youth. Before Geto swallowed too many curses and too much despair. Before Haibara's death. Before Nanami learned that being a sorcerer meant surviving while the good died early.
Right now, they were still sixteen.
Rough, arrogant, talented beyond reason, and still standing side by side beneath the same sky.
Like unpolished blades.
Sharp already, but not yet broken.
"Let's go," Yami said, lightly patting both of them on the shoulder. "I need to visit Jujutsu High anyway."
Gojo immediately looked interested.
"Oh? You're coming to Jujutsu High?"
"There are some things I need to discuss with Principal Yaga."
"Perfect." Gojo cracked his knuckles, the earlier boredom vanishing. "I still haven't had enough of a fight. Once we get back, let's go to the training field."
His grin turned feral.
"This time, I won't go easy on you."
Yami smiled back.
"Anytime."
The three walked out of the abandoned building together.
The sunlight fell over them again, warm and clean, scattering the lingering chill of the Curtain.
Gojo walked in the middle, hands clasped behind his head, looking as carefree as if they had just come back from buying snacks rather than exorcising a Semi-Special Grade Cursed Spirit.
Geto walked on the left, still carrying the calm bearing of an honor student, though his occasional glances toward Yami betrayed his curiosity.
Yami walked on the right.
No weapon.
No Cursed Energy.
No technique that belonged to this world.
Yet his presence was steady, deep, and strangely reassuring, like a mountain that would not move no matter how hard the storm struck.
As they passed a convenience store, a summer pop song played faintly through the speakers.
The melody was light, bright, almost careless.
The kind of song that belonged to youth.
The kind of song that hurt only after the season had already ended.
Yami slowed for half a step.
He looked at the two boys beside him, at Gojo laughing loudly and Geto pretending not to laugh with him.
This time.
The ending of this summer would not be separation.
Satoru Gojo.
Suguru Geto.
And Shoko Ieiri, whom he had yet to meet in this era.
I'll protect your youth.
Gojo suddenly stopped.
Yami's thoughts broke.
The white-haired boy turned his head and stared at him through his sunglasses, his gaze sharp enough to cut.
"Hey, Yami."
"What?"
"You're a strange guy."
"You already said that."
"No, I mean it differently this time."
Gojo pushed his sunglasses down slightly. The blue of his eyes gleamed, bright and inhuman beneath the summer sun.
"You look at us like you know us."
Geto's expression grew quieter.
Gojo continued, "Not like someone who's heard of us. Not like some creep who's been stalking us."
"Your examples are terrible."
"Shut up. I'm talking."
Yami said nothing.
Gojo's voice lowered slightly.
"It's like you've been watching us for a long, long time."
For a moment, the street noise seemed to recede.
Cars passed by. Cicadas cried. Somewhere, a clerk greeted a customer.
Yami met Gojo's gaze.
His heart skipped once, but his expression did not change.
"Maybe."
Gojo raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe?"
"Maybe in some future timeline," Yami said, his voice calm, "we're already old friends."
Gojo stared at him.
Then his mouth curved upward.
"Hah."
The next second, he laughed.
"Hahahahaha! Future old friends? I like that."
He slapped Yami hard on the back.
"Then it's settled. From today onward, you're an external member of our strongest duo."
Geto sighed. "You can't have an external member of a duo, Satoru."
"Then we'll upgrade."
"That isn't how numbers work."
"It is if I say so."
Gojo pointed at Yami's empty hands.
"But if you're going to hang around the strongest, your weapon is way too shabby. That steel pipe looked like it came from a trash heap."
"It did come from a trash heap."
"That makes it worse." Gojo grinned. "Want me to sponsor you with a Cursed Tool? The Gojo Family is loaded."
Yami glanced at the twisted piece of scrap metal still in his hand.
He tossed it into a nearby trash can.
Clang.
"No need."
Gojo looked surprised. "You sure?"
"The blade that belongs to me," Yami said, "I'll find it myself."
Shiranui.
The blade left burning in the future.
The bond that tied him to 2018, to Gojo's seal, to everyone still fighting in a shattered Shibuya.
Wait for me.
Sooner or later, that Nichirin blade that severed curses, karma, and fate itself would bloom again in this era.
The three continued down the street.
None of them noticed the tiny fly-shaped Cursed Spirit clinging to the shadow of a vending machine nearby.
Its glassy eyes reflected their retreating backs.
That gaze did not belong to Mei Mei's Black Bird Manipulation.
It was darker.
Older.
More patient.
Somewhere far away, a voice murmured with quiet interest.
"A variable…"
The fly's wings twitched once.
"Has appeared?"
The boys did not hear it.
They walked beneath the sunlight of 2006, heading toward Tokyo Jujutsu High, shoulder to shoulder.
That year, Satoru Gojo was sixteen.
Suguru Geto was sixteen.
Yami's mental age was better left unexamined.
And their story had only just begun.
.....
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