Chapter 119: The Strongest Duo Crying from Defeat
"Would you mind if I dissected you?"
Early morning, Tokyo Jujutsu High's infirmary.
The unlit cigarette in Shoko Ieiri's mouth slipped free and landed on the cold floor with a soft tap.
She did not notice.
Her eyes were fixed on the physical examination report she had just printed. Beneath the dark circles caused by years of poor sleep, her gaze shone with a dangerous kind of professional excitement.
Yami sat on the examination bed and silently pulled his collar tighter.
"Dr. Ieiri," he said cautiously, "I came here for an entry physical. Not to donate my body to science."
"Can this even be called a human body?"
Shoko stepped closer and almost pressed the report against his face.
"Your muscle density is nearly three times that of an ordinary person. Your cardiopulmonary function is closer to a human-shaped Tyrannosaurus than a teenager. Your cellular activity doesn't match normal biological logic at all."
Her eyes grew brighter as she spoke.
"If an ordinary blade struck your muscles, the edge might chip before it cut through your skin."
Yami looked at the scalpel tray beside her and shifted slightly farther away.
Shoko continued, "If there weren't absolutely no traces of Cursed Energy in your body, I'd suspect you were a Special Grade Cursed Spirit wearing human skin."
Yami gave a helpless smile and offered no real explanation.
He knew better than anyone how abnormal his physical data looked.
After unlocking the Tsugikuni Yoriichi template and mastering Total Concentration: Constant, his body had been undergoing high-intensity circulation every second of every day. Every breath, every heartbeat, every movement of blood through his vessels continuously tempered his muscles and organs.
To Shoko, who did not know the details, it was less like physical training and more like a medical miracle that had wandered into her infirmary wearing a student uniform.
"It's just a breathing technique I practiced in the mountains," Yami said.
"Breathing?"
Shoko leaned in closer.
As someone who had mastered Reverse Cursed Technique, her understanding of the human body was far beyond that of ordinary doctors. But the rhythm inside Yami's body was still enough to fascinate her.
Long, steady breaths.
A slightly elevated body temperature.
A constant flow of heat beneath the skin.
It was almost like listening to a miniature reactor working inside a person.
"Interesting," Shoko murmured. "Very interesting."
She reached for a scalpel almost unconsciously.
"Are you really sure you won't let me take a small tissue sample? Just a tiny piece. I promise I'll stitch it up nicely."
Yami began seriously considering whether to activate Transparent World, locate an opening, and escape through the window.
Bang!
The infirmary door was kicked open with remarkable violence.
"Shoko! Stop right there!"
Satoru Gojo rushed in like a white-haired tornado and grabbed Yami by the arm, pulling him off the examination bed.
"Don't touch my exclusive combat instructor! I've been waiting for him all morning!"
Suguru Geto followed behind him and sighed.
"Satoru, that was rude. If you broke the door, Yaga-sensei will deduct it from our allowance again."
Gojo ignored him completely.
"The physical is done, right? Let's go, let's go!"
Yami glanced at him.
"Go where?"
"To train, obviously!"
Gojo said it as if the answer should have been carved into stone.
"You were the one who said last night that Suguru and I should come at you together."
Yami gave him a half-smile.
"And this training you mentioned involves dragging me out of the infirmary?"
"Of course!"
Gojo's confidence did not waver for even a second.
"Training isn't limited to punching and kicking. Reaction speed, tactics, prediction, pressure resistance, cooperation. All of those matter."
Yami looked at him.
Gojo grinned.
"I had someone buy the latest fighting game from Akihabara."
There it was.
Suguru rubbed his forehead.
"He's been excited since dawn."
"In the gaming world, Suguru and I are the strongest tag team," Gojo declared. "If you want to challenge us two-on-one, this is the perfect battlefield."
Yami looked at Shoko.
Shoko had already picked up the cigarette from the floor and put it back between her lips, though she still did not light it.
"What an interesting guy," she said, studying Yami. "Even Satoru is clinging to you already."
"I am not clinging."
"You kicked my door open."
"That's called urgency."
"That's called property damage."
Yami sighed and allowed himself to be pulled out.
Behind them, Shoko watched the three leave, then looked down at the report in her hand.
Life at Jujutsu High, it seemed, would not be boring for a while.
Gojo Satoru's dorm room was spacious.
It was also a disaster.
Limited-edition figures stood beside half-open manga volumes. Candy wrappers were scattered across the floor. Clothes lay over chairs, the bed, and what might once have been a clean section of carpet. Several empty soda cans had been lined up near the television as though they were part of some strange ritual.
The three sat cross-legged in front of a large screen.
The room smelled of potato chips, carbonated drinks, and teenage confidence.
On the screen was a hardcore 3D fighting game. The title music blared with enough energy to make a normal person feel like they had been challenged to a duel.
"Listen carefully, Yami."
Gojo picked up his controller with practiced skill. His fingers moved over the buttons before the match had even started.
"In this arena, Suguru and I are undefeated."
"That's because you refuse to count the matches you lose," Suguru said.
"Those were warm-ups."
"You called one of them a spiritual victory."
"Still a victory."
Gojo selected a hidden boss character with exaggerated muscles, oppressive reach, and a move list designed by someone who clearly had no interest in fairness.
Suguru chose a summoner-type mage, calm and technical, with strong control options and several annoying delayed attacks.
"Instructor Yami," Suguru said, opening a can of cola with a soft hiss, "two-on-one is a little unfair, but since Satoru insists, I'll accompany him."
Yami weighed the controller in his hand.
It was unfamiliar, but not difficult to understand.
Buttons.
Timing.
Movement.
Spacing.
Reading the opponent.
In a way, it was still combat.
He scrolled through the character list and ignored the flashy options, the secret bosses, and the characters with absurd special effects.
Finally, he picked the default swordsman.
A plain starting character holding a wooden sword.
Gojo stared.
Then he laughed.
"Are you looking down on us?"
Yami's character loaded onto the screen, simple and unimpressive.
"No."
Gojo grinned wider.
"You absolutely are."
The match began.
The moment the word Fight flashed across the screen, Gojo and Suguru attacked from both sides.
Gojo rushed in first, throwing out a brutal close-range combo with the confidence of someone trying to smash the controller through the television. Suguru remained behind him, setting traps, placing delayed projectiles, and sealing off escape routes.
It was not a bad strategy.
In fact, for two high school students who spent half their time arguing, their coordination was surprisingly sharp.
Gojo pressured the front.
Suguru controlled the field.
A normal opponent would have been crushed before they could even understand what was happening.
Yami's swordsman moved.
A sidestep.
A short hop.
A low guard.
A perfectly timed counter.
The wooden sword clipped Gojo's boss character across the wrist during the recovery frame of a heavy attack.
Gojo frowned.
"Huh?"
Suguru's projectile arrived a fraction of a second later.
Yami rolled beneath it.
His character came up inside Suguru's casting range and struck twice.
A clean punish.
Suguru's eyes narrowed.
"Good reaction."
"It isn't reaction."
Yami's gaze remained on the screen.
A faint golden sheen passed through his eyes.
Transparent World.
The two boys beside him were not just players holding controllers. Their bodies were speaking.
The twitch of Gojo's thumb before a reckless dash.
The slight tightening of Suguru's index finger before a trap placement.
The small delay when Suguru changed plans to cover Gojo's mistake.
The tiny impatience in Gojo's breathing whenever Suguru tried to slow the pace.
All of it entered Yami's perception.
On screen, the default swordsman slipped between their attacks like a fish swimming through gaps in a net.
Gojo's grin stiffened.
"Hey."
Suguru leaned forward.
Yami spoke calmly as he continued playing.
"Your coordination looks good, but your philosophies don't match."
Gojo barked, "What does that even mean?"
"You, Satoru, chase overwhelming personal output too much. You assume your teammate will adjust to you no matter what."
The swordsman ducked under Gojo's charged strike and punished the opening with a basic combo.
"You fight like a tyrant."
"Tyrant? Hey, that sounds kind of cool."
"It wasn't praise."
Yami's swordsman turned and parried Suguru's delayed projectile.
"As for Suguru, you are trying to cooperate, but you're holding back too much."
Suguru's fingers paused for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
Yami moved in.
"You're constantly adjusting to Satoru's rhythm, but while doing that, you suppress your own judgment. You're taking on pressure you don't need to carry."
The swordsman struck.
One hit.
Two hits.
A clean launch.
Gojo tried to interrupt.
Yami had already predicted it.
Counter.
Break.
Stun.
The two enemy characters were caught in the same punish sequence.
A simple basic combo, executed with horrifying precision, ended the round.
Double K.O.
Large red letters filled the screen.
The room went silent.
Gojo stared at the screen.
Suguru also stared.
Their controllers slowly slipped from their hands and landed on the carpet with two soft thuds.
Yami set his controller down.
"In a game, once you meet a wall you can't brute force through, a partnership like yours becomes fragile."
Neither of them spoke.
Yami continued, his tone steady rather than harsh.
"Satoru will start to feel his teammate is slowing him down. Suguru will begin doubting himself because he can't keep up. If that continues, the gap between you will only grow."
The words landed quietly.
But both of them felt the weight.
In the future Yami knew, that hidden crack had widened after the Star Plasma Vessel incident. Gojo's awakening had pushed him into a realm no one else could reach. Geto had been left behind, alone with his confusion, disgust, and grief.
No one had noticed until it was too late.
This time, Yami had no intention of letting that wound fester in silence.
"Nonsense!"
Gojo suddenly bristled, yanking off his sunglasses.
"Who says Suguru and I would split?"
His blue eyes flashed with irritation.
"We're the strongest."
Suguru took a slow breath.
His expression was calm, but his hand tightened around the controller.
"Instructor Yami," he said, "don't get too confident. That was only the first round."
Gojo immediately pointed at the screen.
"Again!"
Suguru nodded.
"This time, listen to my calls, Satoru. Don't charge in alone."
"Fine, fine. But if your plan is boring, I'm ignoring it."
"Then we lose again."
"Tch."
Yami watched them pick up their controllers again.
This time, their posture had changed.
Gojo was still impatient.
Suguru was still composed.
But now they were trying.
Really trying.
Not just to win, but to understand how the other person moved.
Yami's expression softened.
This was enough.
For now.
"Ready?" he asked.
Gojo grinned.
"Don't get cocky just because you stole one win."
"You lost very cleanly."
"Shut up and start."
The second match began.
They lost again.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
Then the tenth.
The dormitory, which was supposed to be a place for rest, turned into a battlefield of button clicks, tactical arguments, snack bags, and wounded pride.
"Go left, Satoru!"
"I am going left!"
"That's right!"
"Your left or my left?"
"We're facing the same screen!"
"Then why did I get hit?"
"Because you don't listen!"
Across from them, Yami's default swordsman calmly punished another mistake.
Double K.O.
Again.
Gojo grabbed his own hair.
"Damn it!"
Suguru stared at the screen, lips pressed together.
"One more."
"Obviously one more!"
Outside the window, night deepened.
Then slowly thinned.
At some point, the shouting became quieter.
Their movements became cleaner.
Their calls became shorter.
"Cover."
"Got it."
"Trap behind him."
"I see it."
"Switch."
"Now."
They still lost.
But in the final few rounds, something changed.
Gojo stopped treating Suguru's movements as something that should naturally follow his own.
Suguru stopped trying to compensate for every reckless decision.
Their characters began moving with a rhythm that looked less like one person dragging the other and more like two people trusting each other's judgment.
At dawn, the first light slipped through the window.
Gojo and Suguru were sprawled on the floor, completely unconscious.
Both had dark circles under their eyes.
Gojo still had one hand loosely gripping a controller.
Suguru's controller was resting against his chest.
Even in their sleep, they muttered fragments of the game.
"Counter…"
"Don't whiff…"
"Combo…"
Yami stood and stretched.
His joints popped softly.
He had not slept either, but his breathing remained steady.
He looked down at the two strongest of this era.
They had not beaten him even once.
But that was fine.
They had gained something more important than victory.
The flip phone on the table suddenly vibrated.
Yami picked it up.
The message was from Masamichi Yaga.
There is an emergency rescue mission.
Location: abandoned Western-style mansion in Shizuoka Prefecture.
Suspected Grade 1 Cursed Spirit activity. Barrier structure extremely complex.
Rescue Utahime Iori and Mei Mei, who have been trapped inside for over forty-eight hours.
Yami's gaze remained on the screen for a moment.
Then he looked down at Gojo and Geto, who were sleeping like corpses after pulling an all-nighter.
These two problem children had just spent the entire night challenging a hell-difficulty opponent in a fighting game.
Now they had an emergency mission.
Yami sighed.
"Can they really handle a rescue mission like this?"
.....
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