That day, the mission began far too normally. On paper, it was the potential appearance of a Grade 2 Cursed Spirit.
The outskirts of a small regional city, near an abandoned factory district.
Three missing, four injured.
An assistant director had already cordoned off the site, and Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, and Yuji were deployed from the school to handle it.
The problem was that by the time they arrived at the scene, everything was already far too late.
The moment he stepped out of the car, Geto caught the scent.
Blood.
Damp concrete.
Rusted iron.
And the lingering presence left behind by a Cursed Spirit—something caught halfway between fishy and rotten.
The sun hadn't completely set yet, but the interior of the factory district was dark. The walls were high, and the passages between buildings were narrow, preventing light from penetrating deep. Abandoned steel plates, shattered glass, and weed-choked drains were scattered everywhere.
The suppressed voice of the assistant director reached them from a distance.
"Over here!"
Gojo was the first to move.
Geto and Yuji followed a half-beat behind.
The deeper they went, the thicker the smell became.
Geto knew from that very moment.
He knew there wouldn't be many they could save.
It was a sensation that had become ingrained in his body through long experience. When the lingering scent of a curse is this heavy and the smell of blood is spread this wide, it's usually too late.
Still, he ran.
Because that was his role.
When they reached a wide, warehouse-like space inside the factory, the first thing that caught their eyes was the wall.
To be precise, it was the corpse half-embedded in the wall.
Geto's steps faltered for a fraction of a second.
The victim wasn't old.
A middle schooler, or perhaps a high schooler at most. He wore something akin to work clothes, and half of his head was soaked in blood. A massive crack spider-webbed across the wall—the mark of a human body being slammed into it with lethal force.
Gojo swallowed a curse before it could leave his lips.
"…Whoa."
It wasn't a sound of admiration, but one of forcing back nausea deep in his throat.
On the opposite side of the room, two survivors were huddled in a corner. The Cursed Spirit was already crawling across the steel structures above.
It was a malformed entity with what looked like several faces layered on top of each other, its body covered in rust as it hung from chains dangling from the factory ceiling.
This was far viler than the Grade 2 report had suggested.
Not necessarily because it was powerful, but because its way of feeding was disgusting.
The assistant director spoke with a trembling voice.
"When I arrived, already… one of the three was—"
Yuji cut him off with a single sentence.
"Let's focus on those still alive."
With those words, the air in the entire space shifted.
Yuji's Cursed Energy flared briefly.
It wasn't a cold, heavy pressure, but a sharp tension like a blade that had found its mark.
The Cursed Spirit reacted.
The layered faces all turned toward them simultaneously. A black liquid, a mixture of iron filings and blood, seeped from the jagged slits that served as mouths.
Gojo was already in motion.
"Suguru!"
"I know."
Geto immediately released two of his cursed spirits. One moved to the rear to shield the two survivors, while the other leaped toward the ceiling rafters to block the curse's escape route.
Gojo charged from the front. Moving in a straight line, the shortest distance possible, with Limitless wrapped thin around him.
Yuji was even faster.
He raised his index finger.
Dismantle.
With that single, brief slash, the chains hanging from the ceiling were severed all at once.
The Cursed Spirit twisted its body to evade, but dodging didn't solve its problem. Its escape route was gone, and the falling iron, the dust, Gojo's entry angle, and Geto's containment all converged at once.
It was a perfect pincer attack.
Yet, the Cursed Spirit held its ground. If anything, it looked like it was laughing.
The faces split open, and a bizarre sound erupted—something between a sob and a cackle.
Then, in the next moment, one of the two survivors suddenly screamed.
Geto turned instinctively.
Too late.
A tentacle-like appendage hiding in the shadows of the floor had already wrapped around the person's leg. It wasn't the main body, but a remnant that had crawled beneath the gaps of the fallen chains.
Yuji immediately shifted direction. But that fraction of a second was enough.
The tentacle yanked the leg, and as the man fell, his head slammed hard against the sharp edge of a steel plate. A sound echoed through the room.
It was so dull and heavy that it felt sickeningly real.
Geto ran toward him almost by reflex.
He sent one of his spirits to cover the man and tore away the remaining remnant. Blood flowed. There was a pulse.
He was still alive.
For now.
But that brief relief didn't last.
The main body in front of them took advantage of the opening and bloated its form. Gojo immediately unleashed Blue, but the curse had already distorted the surrounding space.
The corner wall where the last survivor stood was ripped out along with its rebar, collapsing inward.
Gojo exhaled a breath that sounded like a curse.
Yuji was already moving toward that side.
However, fate that day was truly twisted.
The Cursed Spirit moved only in ways that made both Gojo and Yuji a half-beat late. It held its ground in the front, hid remnants in the shadows, and induced structural collapses to constantly force a choice.
Save the people first, or end the main body first?
In those few seconds, the choices kept falling behind.
In the end, it was Yuji who severed the main body.
A second Dismantle carved through the curse, and Gojo's Blue shredded what was left. Geto's cursed spirit crushed the remaining remnants into nothingness.
The battle was over.
It had lasted an incredibly short time.
And yet, when it ended, there were two corpses on the floor.
Geto was on his knees, his fingers pressed against the neck of the man he had just tried to save. A pulse was barely detectable. Blood was spreading beneath the man's tilted head.
He thought he had survived.
But he hadn't.
On the other side, Gojo checked the survivor buried under the collapsed wall and very slowly closed his eyes.
Yuji looked between the two of them without saying a word.
The curse was gone, and the scene was silent.
The space, which moments ago had been filled with the sounds of tearing flesh and crumbling structures, had become quiet far too quickly. It was horrifying.
The assistant director asked in a trembling voice.
"…Is it over?"
No one answered immediately.
It took a long time before the clean-up began.
Retrieving the bodies, writing the survival reports, erasing the traces of the curtain, and piecing together plausible excuses to give to the police.
It was the same work jujutsu sorcerers always did.
Gojo was mostly silent throughout the process.
Yuji was quiet as well.
It was Geto who moved the most.
He helped the assistant director clear the remains, consumed the cursed spirit's residue, pulled the bodies from beneath the collapsed wall, and moved the blood-stained iron plates.
He felt as if he had to keep his hands moving. It was dangerous to give himself room to think.
Gojo approached and spoke in a low voice.
"Suguru."
Geto answered without looking back.
"What."
"You can stop now."
Geto spoke as he sent a curse over the bloodstains on the floor.
"It's not finished."
"It's over."
The answer came so quickly that Geto finally stopped his hands.
Just for a moment.
He turned around slowly. Gojo looked weary. Yuji was watching them from a distance. Geto opened his mouth to speak but stopped.
He wasn't sure what to say.
Was what he felt right now anger? Self-reproach? Powerlessness? It felt like all three, and at the same time, it felt like none of them.
In the end, what came out was something very ordinary.
"…You two were fast."
Gojo knit his brows.
"What?"
"Both you and Itadori."
Geto slowly surveyed the scene again.
The collapsed steel.
The smell of blood.
The impact marks on the walls.
These were just traces of something already finished, but in his eyes, only the possibility of 'If only we were a little faster' remained.
"You were really fast. Faster than me."
Gojo didn't respond. He knew the atmosphere wasn't right for a light joke.
Geto continued in a low, level voice.
"And yet, even with the two of you, we couldn't stop everything."
Silence.
Yuji didn't react even after hearing those words. That lack of reaction grated on Geto in a strange way.
Once the assistant directors moved further away and the area cleared, only the three of them were left.
Gojo said shortly, "The site conditions were bad."
Geto asked back without a hint of a smile, "They were, weren't they?"
"Suguru."
"I know."
Geto spoke as if cutting him off.
"I'm not trying to blame anyone."
He meant it. Or at least, half of him did.
Logically, he knew. This site was more severe than reported. The Cursed Spirit was more cunning, the survivors were already at their breaking point, and the timing was off. No matter who came, a perfect rescue might have been impossible.
The problem was that while he knew it, his heart refused to accept it.
He felt that if Gojo was there, everything would be settled.
He felt that if Yuji was there, everyone could be saved.
But they weren't. And that made it even more horrific.
Geto suddenly recalled the first corpse smashed into the opposite wall. And the neck of the man who had just slipped away from his grasp.
He felt as if he was always left with these things.
Not the moment after a rescue, but the moment after a failure.
Not the aftermath of a victory, but the aftermath of being too late.
Gojo was strong in his own way, and Yuji ended everything in his. And he, Suguru, always saw what came next.
What remained.
What was broken.
What was too late.
He suddenly hated it so much it felt suffocating.
Gojo took a step closer and said softly, "Suguru."
"What."
"You're acting strange today."
Geto wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn't manage it.
Instead, he spoke very quietly, "I know."
Then he looked up. Standing in front of him was Yuji. With his hands in his pockets, he was looking at Geto without saying anything.
The moment he saw that face, Geto felt a very unpleasant emotion flash through him.
Normally, he should have felt relieved. If Yuji is there, things get resolved. Danger ends. That's how it should feel. But this time, it wasn't.
'You again.'
That was his first thought.
Once again, you came and finished it.
Once again, you stand there with a face that knows everything.
Once again, I'm the one left behind like someone who arrived too late.
The moment that emotion surfaced, Geto felt even more disgusted with himself.
This was cowardly. Yuji hadn't done anything wrong. He had actually tried to save people, and he had actually ended the Cursed Spirit.
So why was he irritated? Why did annoyance come before relief? Why did looking at that face make his own powerlessness feel even more vivid?
Geto clenched his teeth inwardly. He couldn't think like this. Especially not now.
He took a long breath. Then, he forced his tone into order and asked, "Itadori."
Yuji looked up. "What?"
"How did it look to you?"
It was a short question. Yuji scanned the scene once before answering.
"The report was late."
Geto nodded slightly as he listened. "That's true."
"The situation had already collapsed before we arrived."
"That's also true."
"Self-reproach won't change anything."
Those words were accurate. They were so accurate that it was even more irritating.
Geto's lips curled into a thin line for a split second. It was an ambiguous expression—not quite a smile, not quite anger.
"How precise of you."
Yuji didn't say anything more.
That silence felt even more burdensome to Geto. It felt as if his inner thoughts were being laid bare.
Gojo watched the two for a moment, then spoke up as if trying to change the mood. "Let's head back for now. If we stay here too long, the smell will stick to us."
Normally, Geto would have gone along with the comment lightly.
But this time, the words wouldn't come out. In the end, all he did was walk back toward the corpses and look down at the blood scattered at his feet.
Gojo asked from behind him, "Suguru?"
Instead of answering, Geto simply closed and opened his eyes.
It was strange. Until a moment ago, he believed he could overcome these thoughts. It's natural to be shaken after seeing a horrific scene. It fades with time. He could pull himself back together. That's what he thought.
But today was a little different.
The guilt of failing to save non-sorcerers.
The feeling of watching Satoru grow stronger.
The increasing scale of disasters since Yuji appeared.
And the fact that just now, the moment he saw Yuji's face, resentment came before relief.
All of it was so vivid.
Geto decided he wouldn't tell anyone. He felt that the moment he spoke it out loud, it would become real.
So, he eventually turned around and said, "Let's go."
His voice was calm, as usual. Gojo looked at him for a second but didn't ask further. Neither did Yuji.
The three of them left the factory district. Evening was approaching, and the faint noise of the city could be heard in the distance.
Just before getting into the car, Geto looked back. The scene where he had been standing moments ago was already being covered by the assistant directors and the barrier team. Soon, the traces would fade. By tomorrow, it would be filed away as just another accident site.
The two dead, the few seconds where they failed to save them, the sensation of arriving too late—the world would cover it all up in an instant.
For some reason, that was unbearable.
As he opened the car door, Gojo spoke casually. "Yuji."
Yuji looked back. "Yeah?"
"Good work today."
It was a short remark. Yuji looked at him for a moment and replied, "You too."
Listening to that brief exchange, Geto felt a very strange sensation. The two of them understood each other so easily. It was as if a certain shared sense had formed between them—the kind only those who have nearly died together share.
That was a good thing. Surely.
But why did his insides feel so cold?
After getting into the car, Geto thought silently while watching the summer evening flow past the window. He could overcome bad thoughts. This would pass. This was just for today. He was simply tired.
But somewhere deep inside, he already knew.
That there are some things that cannot be achieved through effort alone.