Greetings fellow readers, MasterW here
I've been trying to clean my schedule to write more, so I will try to get 2 to 3 weekly chapters, no promises though.
Anyhow, new chapter for everyone. Now as a game, I've got two questions I would like you guys to guess
1. Could you describe Akira's technique and applications
2. Can you guess which new arc is coming next
Without any further to do, enjoy!
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(Third Person's POV)
The group moved through the deathly quiet halls of Fujimi Academy like a single, tense organism.
Their footsteps were careful, measured, the only sounds the scuff of shoes on the ceramic floor
The distant, echoing moans around them seemed to come from everywhere and screams were added in between
Busujima Saeko led from the front, a calm vanguard. Her enhanced senses were stretched to their limits, tasting the foul Cursed Energy saturating the air.
Behind her, Kohta and Saya followed, then Shizuka and Kyoko, with Hisashi and Miyamoto Rei guarding the rear, their makeshift weapons at the ready.
The objective was clear: gather any survivors they could find, and locate the source of this nightmare to end it
Saya, her pink hair still streaked with grime and her new glasses glinting, kept her eyes on Saeko's back. "So" she finally broke the tense silence, her voice a low murmur. "When is this sensei of yours showing up?"
"He is the most reliable person I know," Saeko replied without looking back, her hand casually flicking out. A shambling form that rounded the corner ahead had its head separated from its shoulders before it could take another step. The body crumpled silently. "I'm certain he will arrive soon."
"And can't you deal with whatever this is? Break this 'Veil' thing?"
Saeko paused, considering. "Sensei explained that Veils can be broken easily… unless they are reinforced with Binding Vows or talismans." She glanced at the oppressive blackness outside a window. "I could likely break it. But if I do, it will reveal everything happening here to the outside world instantly. The chaos, the transformed… it would cause a panic. It's better to find and eliminate the source before breaking the Veil."
"And what is the source? One of those Cursed Spirits? Or a user?"
"I don't know," Saeko admitted, her crimson eyes scanning a branching corridor. "But whatever it is, I will deal with it"
Their path took them down a grand staircase.
On the landing below, they spotted a small group of terrified first-year students huddled in a corner, using chairs and backpacks to fend off a handful of advancing zombies.
Saeko didn't break stride. She descended the last few steps in a silent rush, her blade becoming a silver blur. In three precise movements, the heads of the attacking corpses tumbled to the floor. She flicked the blood from her sword and sheathed it before the bodies had finished collapsing.
She turned to Saya. "Group them together. Find a usable classroom on this floor, barricade the door, and wait. I'll sweep for more survivors and then—"
Her instructions were cut off.
A primal warning screamed in her senses a half-second before the attack came.
Not from a zombie, but something fast.
A hulking grey mass, moving with shocking speed for its size, slammed into her from a side hallway. The impact was like a car wreck. Saeko was thrown off her feet and blasted through a flimsy classroom wall, wood and plaster exploding inward in a cloud of dust and debris.
"BUSUJIMA-SAN!" Kyoko screamed.
The dust began to settle. In the crater of the shattered wall, Saeko was on one knee. She had managed to get her sheathed sword up in a cross-block. The thing that had hit her was a monstrous zombie, over eight feet tall, its muscles grotesquely swollen and knotted under grey, mottled skin. It pressed down on her guard with terrifying force, its deformed face inches from hers, drooling blackish saliva.
With a grunt of effort, Saeko shoved upwards, creating a centimeter of space. In that tiny opening, her other hand moved. Sandai-Kitetsu left its sheath with a sound like a sharp gasp. A horizontal slash severed the arm pressing down on her. Before the creature could react, she was a whirlwind of violence.
She rose, her blade becoming a storm of silver lines that carved the massive zombie into chunks of twitching meat in less than two seconds.
She stood amidst the carnage, breathing steadily, and slid her clean blade back into its sheath.
Saya rushed to the hole in the wall, staring at the dismembered monster. "What the hell is that?"
"Seems to be like a Tank," Kohta muttered, peering over her shoulder, his modified nail-gun raised.
"A what?" Rei asked, confused.
"Sorry, gaming term," Kohta mumbled. "Gotta watch out for Witches, though."
"A variant," Saeko stated, stepping out of the rubble and brushing dust from her uniform. "Stronger, faster. Specialized in killing"
Their analysis was cut short by a slow, deliberate sound.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
"Fascinating. Truly fascinating. As expected of the national champion, Busujima-san."
The voice was wet, guttural, and full of twisted amusement. They all turned.
Emerging from the shadows of the opposite hallway was a man, or what had once been a man. It was Shidou Koichi, but horrifically transformed.
His skin was a sickly grey, bulging with thick, pulsing green veins that crawled over his face and neck like parasitic vines. His body seemed swollen with unnatural muscle, tearing his teacher's shirt.
His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and glazed with madness and power. A string of drool hung from his deformed lips, which were pulled back in a permanent, leering grin. He was flanked by dozens more of the hulking "Tank" zombies, which stood obediently behind him like monstrous bodyguards.
He swept his gaze over the group, lingering on each of the female students and teachers. His tongue—dark and too long—slid out to lick his corrupted lips.
"My, my… what a delightful sight this is," he slurred. His eyes landed on Shizuka and Kyoko. "Shizuka-chan… Kyoko-chan… you managed to survive. How… fortuitous." Then his stare fixed on Rei, and his grin widened. "And what's this? The rowdy little rebellious star survived as well? My, my…"
Rei shuddered, taking an involuntary step back. Hisashi immediately stepped in front of her, raising his metal pipe, his face set in a defiant snarl.
Koichi's gaze finally returned to Saeko, ignoring the boys completely. "Keep the women alive," he commanded, his voice dropping to a hungry whisper. "I want to… play with them later. Kill the rest"
He pointed a finger, swollen and veined, at the group.
One of the Tank zombies behind him lunged forward with a ground-shaking roar, its massive fist aimed to pulp Hisashi and Rei where they stood.
It never reached them.
Saeko was already in the air, having launched herself from a standing start. She met the brute mid-charge. Instead of a dodge or a block, she spun inside its swing, her katana flashing upward in a diagonal arc. The blade sheared through the monster's thick neck, passed through its jaw and skull, and exited out the top of its head in a spray of black ichor. The massive body took two stumbling steps past her before collapsing like a felled tree.
Saeko landed lightly, not even breathing hard. She turned to face Koichi and his remaining guards, a slow, genuine smile spreading across her face.
A smile that didn't reach her cold, blood-red eyes. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated anticipation.
"Finally," she purred, the bloodlust in her voice palpable. "Some good entertainment. I was starting to get bored with the simple ones."
As the group recoiled in horror from Koichi's leering presence, Miyamoto Rei's tear-filled eyes swept across the line of abominations.
She was searching for any sign of the boy she'd known amidst the nightmare. Her gaze slid past one, then another, until it locked onto the third figure from the left.
This one was slightly less swollen than the others, its frame still bearing the vague, athletic outline of a track runner.
And its face… though the skin was stretched and grey, the jaw malformed, the eyes milky and vacant… the structure was there. The set of the brow, the line of the nose, it was a horrific funhouse mirror reflection, but it was him.
"T-Takashi…?" Rei's whisper was a fragile thing, shattering in the tense air.
Hisashi followed her stare, and his blood ran cold. He saw it too, the familiar build, the remnants of Komuro Takashi's features warped under the curse's influence.
The zombie that was once their friend stood silently
As if its name, spoken by the girl it once loved, was a key turning in a rusted lock, the Takashi-zombie's head twitched.
A low, grinding groan rattled in its chest, and its milky eyes seemed to strain, focusing with immense effort on Rei's form. From its slack, drooling mouth, a wet, guttural sound pushed past dead vocal cords.
"R… Rei…" it exhaled, the word thick with fluid and anguish. "My… Rei…"
The sound was barely human, a ghost of sentiment echoing in a cavern of ruin. It was the last whisper of the boy
Rei choked back a sob, her legs buckling. Hisashi caught her, holding her up, his own face a mask of fury and despair.
Shidou Koichi watched their devastation with rapturous delight. His stitched-together mind, now affected and fused with Mahito's cursed energy, vibrated with cruel ecstasy. 'Oh, this is too perfect!' he crowed inwardly. 'The lovelorn fool, now my perfect guardian beast! And he still pines for her!' His bulging, veined eyes slid from the grieving Rei to the hulking form of the Takashi-zombie, then back again. A vile, possessive idea bloomed in his mind.
'Oh yes, Takashi-san,' he thought, a grotesque parody of generosity. 'You can have her. You can keep her safe… protect her from the others… after I'm done with her.' The thought of defiling Rei in front of this monstrous, lingering remnant of her childhood friend, of making the zombie watch with whatever shred of consciousness remained.
It was a depravity that made his new, corrupted soul sing. It would be the ultimate humiliation, the perfect fusion of his old petty cruelties and his new, absolute power
He licked his deformed lips, his attention snapping back to the immediate obstacle: Busujima Saeko, who stood as a calm, deadly barrier between him and his new toys.
"Such a touching reunion," Koichi slurred aloud, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "But playtime comes later. First…" He raised a swollen, veined hand and pointed at Saeko. "Bring me the women."
At his command, the line of Tank zombies, including the one that was once Komuro Takashi, let out a unified, ground-shaking roar and began to advance
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The post-class lull in the staff room was a quiet hum of rustling papers and the distant echo of student chatter from the halls.
Akira entered with his usual silent movements, his focus already on the paperwork awaiting him at his desk.
A soft, somewhat… giggly sound broke the quiet concentration. It came from Hiratsuka Shizuka's desk. She was hunched over a large, leather-bound notebook, her shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed mirth, completely absorbed.
Akira walked past her towards his own desk, but something about the illustration on the open page caught his eye, a flash of familiar white hair. He paused, turning his head slightly.
The page was filled with highly skilled, dramatically stylized artwork. It depicted two men with stark white hair and striking features in a… compromising embrace.
One was unmistakably Gojo Satoru, his blindfold artfully disheveled. The other was a clear, flattering drawing of Akira himself. The art was shockingly detailed.
His crimson eyes flicked to the text beside the drawing.
'…Then Akira took Gojo's hand and threw him onto the bed, his crimson eyes blazing with possessive intensity. "Let me show you," he whispered, his voice a low growl, "why I am the strongest."
Gojo trembled, a blush coloring his cheeks. "But… we're cousins…"
Akira's lips curled into a dangerous smile as he leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Gojo's neck. "I will make you forget we are family…"'
The text descended into a whirlwind of explicit metaphors and scandalous descriptions that Akira's brain categorically refused to process further.
A faint, almost imperceptible twitch touched the corner of his eye.
He cleared his throat softly.
The sound acted like a bucket of ice water. Shizuka jolted upright, the notebook snapping shut with a loud thwump. She whirled around, her face flaming red.
"Huh?! Yoshioka-san?!" she squeaked, clutching the book to her chest as if it were a live grenade. "Oh, this! A, uh, student was writing this in class! I confiscated it! I was just… checking the content! For disciplinary reasons! It's nothing!"
Akira simply stared at her. His expression was as flat and unreadable as ever, but his gaze held a profound, silent judgment that seemed to peel away every layer of her flimsy excuse. He held the stare for a long, uncomfortable three seconds before turning wordlessly and walking to his desk.
"Wait, Yoshioka-san! I can explain!" Shizuka called after him, flustered. "I was just seeing what all the fuss is about with these… these… indecent books!"
He ignored her, neatly arranging a stack of papers. At that moment, his phone buzzed with a specific ringtone. He picked it up without looking at the caller ID.
"Yes?"
{Yo! Akira!} Gojo's cheerful voice blared from the speaker, loud enough that Shizuka, still pink-eared, could probably hear it. {Isn't one of your students at Fujimi Academy? That sword girl?}
"Yes. Busujima Saeko. Why?"
{Well, one of our Windows just reported a major Veil sprung up over the entire school. Thick one, too. You know anything about that?}
Akira's demeanor shifted instantly.
The last trace of annoyance from the illicit novel vanished, replaced by sharp, cold focus. "No, I do not." He was already on his feet, gathering his coat. "I will be going immediately."
{Good, do that,} Gojo's voice lost its playful edge, turning serious. {I'll scramble a response team from the closest sorcerers. They'll be there ASAP. Need me to teleport you? Save you the commute?}
"No need," Akira said, already moving toward the door. As he passed Shizuka's desk, he paused. "Hiratsuka-sensei."
"Y-yes?"
"Please cover my classes for the rest of the day. I have urgent business to attend to."
"Umm… I… sure!" the still-flustered teacher managed to reply.
Akira gave a curt nod and was out the door.
He moved through the school corridors and out the main gates with purposeful speed that drew a few curious glances.
Once outside, he turned into a narrow, deserted alleyway between two apartment buildings.
He stopped, closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, and focused. A surge of immense, controlled Cursed Energy flared around him, invisible to normal eyes but causing the air to warp and the ground beneath his feet to tremble.
Then, he was simply gone
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The world became a blur of grey flesh, silver steel, and sprays of black ichor.
Saeko didn't wait for the wall of mutant zombies to reach her. She exploded into motion in a hurricane of violence and blood.
She met the first Tank head-on, ducked under a clumsy haymaker, and her blade flashed upward, cleaving the monster from groin to collarbone. She didn't watch it fall. She was already pivoting, using its collapsing body as a springboard to launch herself at the next two.
Sandai-Kitetsu moved covered in blood and viscera. A horizontal slash severed limbs. A vertical strike split a skull.
She moved with her body using every one of her tendons and muscles with extreme efficiency, every step a dodge, every twist a kill. But there were too many for the confined hallway. She needed space.
With a final, powerful slash that disemboweled another mutant, Saeko turned and sprinted down the corridor. Behind her, the remaining giants roared in fury, smashing through lockers and classroom doors in pursuit. She reached a large window at the end of the hall. Without breaking stride, she tucked into a roll and crashed through the glass, plummeting two stories down into the main courtyard.
She landed in a crouch, the impact cratering the pavement. Two of the pursuing mutants weren't as graceful. They simply jumped after her, smashing through the wall itself in showers of brick and plaster, landing with ground-shaking thuds around her.
Before they could recover, Saeko was on them. As one tried to crush her with a massive fist, she sidestepped and severed its arm at the elbow, then spun, her blade tracing a line around its neck. The head toppled. The second lunged, jaws snapping. She met it with a thrust so powerful the katana erupted from the back of its skull. She kicked the dying body off her blade just as three more mutants landed around her, forming a triangle.
From the shattered window above, Shidou Koichi watched, his deformed mouth agape. Beads of green-tinged sweat dripped down his veined temples. "What's going on?!" he slurred, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and dawning fear. "How is she doing that?!" He leaned over the ledge, screaming at the remaining horde still in the hallway. "ALL OF YOU! KILL HER! TEAR HER APART!"
The sound of the brutal fight was a beacon in the hellscape of what was once a school full of life.
The shambling hordes of ordinary zombies throughout the school, drawn by the noise of destruction, began to converge. They poured from doorways, stumbled down stairs, and shambled across the grounds, a river of decaying flesh flowing toward the courtyard.
Saeko was no longer fighting a dozen mutants. She was now fighting the whole school by herself
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In a barricaded classroom on the second floor, the group of survivors listened to the distant thunder of collapsing walls and the ever-growing chorus of hungry moans moving away from them.
Saya peered through a crack in the barricade, her eyes wide. "What is that brute woman doing?!" she whisper-shouted. "She's drawing every single one of those things to the courtyard!"
"I don't know," Hisashi replied, his face pale, "But she's making them all go away. She's giving us a chance"
Kyoko clutched her hands together. "Let's just hope she's safe," she prayed quietly.
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Back in the courtyard, Saeko became a whirlwind of death.
She danced between the lumbering mutants, her blade a constant silver flicker. A normal zombie lunged; its head flew off before it took another step.
Two mutants tried to pin her between them; she leaped, planted a foot on one's chest to launch herself higher, and came down with a devastating overhead slash that split the other from crown to sternum. She landed, rolled under a sweep of a massive arm, and came up slicing tendons at the back of a knee, sending another mutant crashing down before finishing it with a stab to the brain.
It was a symphony of perfect brutality. The numbers were staggering, but she fought them with a bloodthirsty smile on her face. She slashed both mutant and ordinary zombies alike, never once her strength or speed swaggering
Seeing his forces dwindling, Koichi's panic morphed into a final, desperate gambit. He pointed a shaking, veined finger at the strongest mutant beside him, the one that had once been Komuro Takashi. "YOU! KILL HER! CRUSH HER!" he screamed.
The Takashi-mutant let out a guttural roar that sounded more pained than enraged and launched itself from the second-floor window.
It jumped into the courtyard with a force that cracked the concrete, its milky eyes fixing on Saeko.
She felt its approach different.
Faster, more purposeful.
She evaded its first charge, a thunderous punch that missed her by inches and cratered the ground, sending a shockwave of rubble into the air.
Saeko used her sheath like a bat, deflecting the flying debris and smacking several chunks back into the mutant's face with sharp cracks. It staggered but didn't fall.
She used the moment to jump back, creating distance. As she retreated, her blade never stopped moving. Three normal zombies that tried to grab her were bisected mid-step. Another mutant that charged from her flank lost its legs at the knees. She moved in a constant, bloody ballet, parrying, dodging, and killing everything that entered her sphere.
But the Takashi-mutant was relentless. It pursued her with a single-minded intensity the others lacked, its attacks sharper, its movements tinged with a horrible, residual skill.
Saeko weaved around its blows, her sword clashing against its hardened arms, sparks flying where cursed steel met modified flesh.
She spun, slashed the legs out from under another normal zombie, used its falling body as a momentary shield against a mutant's charge, then vaulted over it to bring her sword down on the Takashi-mutant's shoulder. The blade bit deep, but not deep enough.
She disengaged again, slicing through a pack of five shamblers in a single, sweeping move that painted the grass black.
Then she charged the Takashi-mutant. It stood its ground, roaring, ready to meet her.
As she closed the final few meters, a faint whisper, frayed and full of agony, brushed against her heightened senses.
'Please…'
It was a single word, saturated with a soul's last plea for release. It came from the crumbling consciousness within the monstrosity.
Saeko's eyes narrowed. Her grip on her sword tightened.
"Very well," she said, her voice cutting through the din.
In the final instant, the mutant seemed to hesitate, its guard dropping a fraction. Saeko didn't need more. She shot forward, her blade a single, horizontal line of light.
Shing.
The Takashi-mutant's head, still wearing an expression that was somehow both monstrous and peaceful, tilted, then slid from its shoulders. The body remained standing for a second before collapsing heavily to the blood-soaked earth.
Silence.
The courtyard was a morgue. Mounds of dismembered mutants and heaps of normal zombies lay still.
The only thing standing upright was Busujima Saeko, her uniform drenched in gore, her chest rising and falling steadily. A content, almost serene smile touched her lips as she looked at her blood-soaked blade.
"So, you enjoyed it too " she murmured to the sword. She then turned her gaze to the headless form of Takashi. "You tried your best to hold your consciousness, even in a body like that. It just shows how strong your soul was. Be proud of that."
She turned and began walking toward the school's entrance, where Shidou Koichi cowered on the steps.
He had watched his entire army be dismantled by one girl. As Saeko approached, her bloody katana held loosely at her side, his bravado evaporated. He fell to his knees, hands clasped in a pathetic parody of prayer.
"Wait, please!" he begged, greenish tears mixing with sweat on his deformed face. "He made me do it! The stitched man! He threatened my life! I'm innocent! I'm just a teacher! PLEASE!!"
Saeko didn't break stride. She didn't even look at his pleading face. As she passed him, her arm moved in a single, effortless arc.
Swish.
Koichi's desperate pleas were cut short. His head joined the others on the ground. Saeko flicked the blood from her blade and began to slide it back into its sheath.
Just then, the group of survivors, led by a worried Kyoko, emerged cautiously from a side door, having navigated the now-cleared halls.
"Busujima-san! Are you alright?!" Kyoko called out. Her eyes wide at the scene of absolute carnage.
"I'm fine, Hayashi-sensei," Saeko replied, her voice calm as she finished sheathing her sword
"When we heard the fighting stop, we thought the worst," Kyoko said, her gaze falling on Koichi's body with a shudder. "But I guess you did well."
"Takashi…" Rei whispered, her voice breaking as she stared at the larger, headless mutant body. Hisashi placed a firm, comforting hand on her shoulder, his own face a mask of grim sorrow.
Saya saw the body too and looked away, a single tear tracing a clean line through the grime on her cheek. Even though her romantic feelings were gone, seeing a friend end like this was a deep, silent wound.
But the moment of grief and relief was shattered.
Saeko's head snapped up, her senses screaming.
Her eyes darted to Marikawa Shizuka, who had knelt a short distance away, examining a decapitated corpse with a medical professional's detached curiosity.
From the shadow of a collapsed wall, the patchwork man, Mahito, materialized, moving with playful, sinister grace directly toward the oblivious nurse, his hand stretching out to touch her.
He was almost upon her.
But before his stitched fingers could make contact, a silver flash cut through the air.
Schlick.
Mahito's outstretched hand severed at the wrist, falling to the ground and dissolving into wispy Cursed Energy. He hopped back with a yelp of surprise, not of pain, but of delight.
Shizuka finally noticed and recoiled, falling onto her backside with a startled "Eh?!"
"Ahh, I wanted to continue my experiment," Mahito pouted, his wrist already regenerating with bubbling flesh and new stitches. "But it seems I'll have to leave now, since the party-pooper arrived." He grinned at the new arrival. "Woah! You really are as Ken-chan said! Now I know why he told me not to fight you yet. That cut hurt my soul!"
Everyone turned. Standing protectively between Mahito and Shizuka was a man with stark white hair and calm crimson eyes. He held a simple, unadorned katana, its blade clean.
Saeko was the first to react. "Sensei!" she exclaimed, her posture straightening with respect.
The rest of the group stared, stunned. "That's her sensei?!" Saya blurted out.
Mahito giggled. "Well, gotta run! But here!! a parting gift!!" He thrust his regenerated hand into his own stomach and pulled out a handful of small, twisted stone amulets shaped like crude human figures. He tossed them into the air.
The amulets swelled mid-flight, exploding into grotesque, fleshy masses that sprouted dozens of razor-sharp, whipping tentacles. They formed a wall of flesh the size of a building
They flew in all directions, a final, chaotic attack aimed at the entire group.
Akira and Saeko moved as one. They didn't need to communicate. They became a synchronized storm of slashes. Akira's blade was a blur of precise cuts, each movement dismantling the tentacles of flesh before they could fully form. Saeko fought beside him, her style more forceful but no less effective, carving the monstrosities apart.
In seconds, the wall of flesh was killed, leaving the bleeding flesh on the courtyard. Akira jumped the wall and saw nothing except a hole in the ground
Mahito was already gone, turned into a mole or something similar and escaped underground.
As the last of the transfigured flesh died down, Akira turned to the shocked, huddled group of survivors. His expression was as placid as if he'd just finished a stroll in the park. He glanced over them, his gaze clinical.
"Is anyone in need of medical attention?" he asked, his voice calm and utterly matter-of-fact in the center of the apocalyptic scene
---------------------------------------------------
The aftermath of the massacre at Fujimi Academy was a surreal scene.
The sky was beginning to darken with the first hints of dusk, casting a dark, forgiving night over the courtyard of carnage.
In the center of it all, Yoshioka Akira sat atop a small mound of debris, shattered concrete, twisted rebar, and the less identifiable remains of cursed constructs, like a weary king surveying a grim battlefield. His katana was planted point-down in front of him, his hands resting on its pommel as if it were a cane.
The air hummed with suppressed energy before a familiar presence walked towards him.
"Man, I thought you'd be the one to clean house, but it seems your student is more hardcore than I thought," Gojo Satoru remarked, sauntering into the courtyard with his hands in his pockets, his signature blindfold in place. He navigated the gore-strewn ground tiptoeing over the corpses
"Satoru," Akira acknowledged with a slight nod.
Gojo stopped beside him, his head tilting as he surveyed the huddled group of survivors being checked over by a few early-arriving assistants. "Those are the only ones?"
Akira gave a single, solemn nod. "I scoured the entire school. No one else survived."
"Man, what a mess." Gojo crouched in front of a particularly mangled mutant corpse, lifting his blindfold with one finger to peer at it with his Six Eyes. "I can tell this was the work of a curse. Reeks of Cursed Energy all over the place. Damn, if you'd told me we had a Resident Evil situation here, I would've come earlier. Maybe brought a gun."
"Do you even know how to handle a gun?" Akira asked, his tone flat.
"It's just point and click, right?"
"Hmm." Akira's non-committal hum was answer enough. He stood, the motion fluid, and pulled his sword from the rubble. Gojo rose as well, and the two began walking toward the survivors. "It was a Special Grade," Akira stated.
"What?" Gojo's playful demeanor evaporated, his head snapping toward Akira.
"Pale blue skin. A body covered in black stitches. The moment it saw me, it seemed to recognize me. It fled immediately."
"So, you're saying it knew you? You mean…"
Akira nodded. "It likely witnessed the fight. The fight that was supposed to be a private broadcast for the higher-ups and the major clans."
"So, there's a rat among them…" Gojo sighed, a sound of deep, familiar exasperation. "Not surprising. Those bastards always like to meddle. Wouldn't shock me if a hit's already been placed on you, just like mine."
"You have a contract on yourself?"
"I've always had one. But no one's been dumb enough to try and claim it for… oh, about eleven years now."
As they approached, Busujima Saeko, who had been quietly listening to Kyoko and Shizuka, turned and saw her sensei. A flicker of something like relief passed over her blood-stained features. "Sensei," she greeted, giving a respectful nod.
He returned the nod, then turned his attention back to Gojo. "How is the fallout to be handled?"
"Terrorist attack. We have the clean-up crew inbound. They're experts in scenes like this. But seeing the scale…" Gojo made a sweeping gesture around the courtyard, littered with hundreds of bodies. "They're gonna have to earn their paychecks tonight."
As if on cue, a convoy of unmarked black vans rolled through the shattered school gates. Doors slid open, and men and women in stark, utilitarian jumpsuits emerged, each carrying large, rectangular backpacks. They fanned out with quiet efficiency, but their muttered complaints carried on the dawn air.
"Damn, this is why I don't like sorcerer gigs…"
"This is gonna take forever…"
Akira observed them. "They are not sorcerers."
"Nah," Gojo confirmed. "They're called Floaters. From the JAA." He glanced at Akira. "You know what that is, right?"
Akira gave a slow nod of recognition, the Japanese Assassins Association
"Thought so," Gojo continued. "After one too many incidents where we couldn't spare sorcerers for clean-up, the higher-ups decided to outsource. The JAA provides the Floaters. Cheap, efficient, and they don't ask questions they don't want the answers to"
Their conversation was interrupted as Marikawa Shizuka approached. Her steps hesitant. She had cleaned some of the grime from her face, and her large, brown eyes were fixed on Akira.
"Umm… Yoshioka-sensei, right?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.
He turned his crimson gaze to her and gave a silent nod.
"Thank you… for saving me before." She bowed deeply, a gesture that caused her considerable bust to strain against her torn nurse's uniform.
He simply nodded again, offering no words in return.
Flustered by his impassive response, Shizuka straightened, studied his handsome, stoic face for a second longer than necessary, a blush coloring her cheeks, then quickly retreated back to the group.
"Ahh~ 'Thank you for saving me, Yoshioka-sama~'" Gojo cooed in a high-pitched, mocking falsetto beside Akira, elbowing him playfully.
Akira didn't turn his head. His elbow shot out in a blur, catching Gojo squarely in the ribs. The impact wasn't loud, but it carried a dense, concussive force that made the air crack. Gojo doubled over with a pained grunt, clutching his side.
"Really?" Gojo wheezed, a genuine grimace on his face. "Using Domain Amplification for a cheap shot? Rude."
Before Akira could respond, the low purr of a powerful engine announced a new arrival. A sleek, black luxury sedan glided through the gates, ignoring the Floaters. The doors opened, and a stunning woman with elegant purple hair and a sharp man with a stern face emerged.
The woman's eyes instantly found the group of survivors. With a cry, she sprinted forward, her composure shattered. "Saya!"
The pink-haired girl looked up, her glasses smudged and eyes red-rimmed. "Mom!" She scrambled to her feet and ran into her mother's waiting arms, bursting into fresh, heavy sobs. The woman, Yuriko, held her daughter tightly, murmuring soothing words into her hair, her own tears falling silently.
The stern-faced man, Takagi Souichiro, followed at a more measured pace. He stopped before the two white-haired sorcerers, his sharp eyes assessing them. He focused on Akira first. "When my daughter called us about the situation, I did not expect to find you here, Yoshioka-sensei."
"Takagi-san," Akira acknowledged with a respectful dip of his head.
Souichiro's gaze shifted to Gojo. "And you are?"
"Hi! I'm Gojo Satoru. Nice to meet'cha!" Gojo chirped, waving as if they were at a garden party.
"Gojo Satoru? 'The Strongest'?" Souichiro's eyes widened marginally. As a high-ranking politician with ties to the hidden world, he knew the name carried immense weight.
"Not anymore! This guy stole the title from me," Gojo said, jerking a thumb toward Akira with a grin.
Souichiro's composure slipped for a moment, his gaze snapping back to Akira with new, profound intensity. This casual revelation reshaped his entire understanding of the man he knew as a mere high school teacher
Yuriko, still holding Saya, approached and offered Akira a deep, respectful bow. "I cannot thank you enough for helping my daughter survive this nightmare."
Akira shook his head slightly. "I did nothing. I arrived at the end. It was my student who protected her." He gestured toward Saeko.
"Nonetheless," Yuriko insisted, her voice firm with maternal conviction, "if it were not for your teaching and her training, I doubt she would have been as capable as she was. We are in your debt."
"I'm certain that even without my intervention, she would have been found safe," Akira demurred, his tone leaving no room for argument. He then turned his attention back to Souichiro. "However, I must request that you keep my… other identity… discreet. I value my anonymity."
Souichiro met Akira's gaze, understanding the unspoken power behind the request. He gave a slow, serious nod. "Of course. You have my word."
Akira returned the nod, the matter settled.
The nightmare was over, but the ripples of what happened at Fujimi Academy were only just beginning to spread
--------------------------------------------------------------------
(A Short Time Ago)
Gojo Satoru watched his students train in the Tokyo Jujutsu High courtyard, but his famous Six Eyes were seeing nothing.
His mind was a thousand kilometers away, adrift in a sea of unfamiliar contemplation.
The students, noticing their usually boisterous sensei's uncharacteristic silence, exchanged whispers.
"What's gotten into him?"
"Beats me."
"Salmon," Inumaki agreed, looking perplexed.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Later, in the sterile chill of Shoko Ieiri's morgue, Gojo was sprawled on a stainless-steel autopsy table as if it were a therapist's couch. A fresh sheet of paper had been hastily thrown over it.
"You realize I just lifted a corpse off this bed ten minutes ago, right?" Shoko remarked dryly, lighting a cigarette.
"I don't know what's gotten into me, Shoko," Gojo sighed, staring at the ceiling, utterly ignoring her comment.
"Hah," she exhaled a plume of smoke. "How long have you felt like this?"
"Since the fight with Akira."
"Hmm." Shoko took a slow drag. "Maybe it's because you're no longer 'the Strongest.'"
"Maybe that's it… I just… I don't know what to do. I always thought being the strongest was just part of my life. My identity. But now there's someone who beat me, who took that title… and I feel… free. But I don't know what to do with this freedom."
"Well, not completely free," she said offhandedly, gesturing with her cigarette toward the window, symbolizing the school, the higher-ups, the endless responsibilities. "But whatever. Maybe you've been 'The Strongest' for so long you forgot how to just be Gojo Satoru."
Gojo turned his head to look at her, his blindfold pushed up. "Maybe that's it. So, what should I do?"
Shoko shrugged, a faint, knowing smirk on her lips. "Well, what does Gojo Satoru want to do?"
----------------------------------------------------------
(Present)
"And that's how I'm here," Gojo declared, as if that single sentence explained his sudden appearance.
Akira stared. His expression utterly flat. "I just opened the door, and you said that sentence as if it explains everything."
"Well, doesn't matter! Came here for a rematch from last time. I've been waiting a long time for this."
"Satoru," Akira said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We were dealing with the Fujimi Academy incident just two hours ago. And we played all night yesterday"
"That's a long time for me! So, I came here"
Akira let out a quiet sigh, then leveled his crimson gaze at his... friend. "Very well then."
"Buuuut," Gojo drew the word out, holding up a finger. "I forgot to buy snacks. So, how about you help me? You know the good spots around here."
Akira gave a slow nod, stepping out of his apartment and locking the door behind him. "If you are buying."
"Hey," Gojo grinned, slinging an arm around Akira's shoulders as they walked down the hall. "You know me."
------------------------------------------
"Nice place," Gojo said as he walked through the doors of the modest neighborhood konbini with a cheerful chime.
"Hmm," Akira nodded, following him inside.
"Welcome—huh!" The boy sweeping the floor close to the entrance, a short blonde with an apron that read 'Shin', began the automatic greeting but choked on the last syllable. His smile froze. As a clairvoyant with the ability to read surface thoughts and intentions, he was used to the constant low hum of people's minds, a stream of 'need milk, forgot rice, that guy looks suspicious'.
But with these two? Nothing. It was like trying to tune a radio to a station that didn't exist. His mind-scan bounced off them, finding only an unnerving silence.
'I can't read their minds at all... What's going on?'
The two white-haired men paid him no mind, walking past the counter with an air of casual purpose. Shin's eyes darted to the large, heavyset man meticulously organizing cigarettes behind the counter, his boss, Sakamoto.
"Sakamoto-san," Shin whispered urgently, leaning over. "I can't read them. It's like they're not even there. I think they might be... assassins."
Sakamoto's eyes followed the newcomers as they moved through the aisles.
One was tossing bags of chips into a basket with the glee of a child, while the other selected items with calm precision, their baskets rapidly filling with an absurd number of snacks.
"Don't worry about it, Shin," Sakamoto rumbled, his voice low and steady.
"What's going on?" A girl with reddish hair tied in a ponytail, another employee named Lu, joined them, peering around the shelf. Her eyes widened at the two men. "Are they assassins?"
Just then, the pair arrived at the counter, each carrying two baskets overflowing with candy, chips, chocolates, sodas, and even some pre-packaged yakitori.
Akira gave a slight nod. "Sakamoto-san."
Sakamoto returned the nod and began scanning the items, his hands moving with a speed and efficiency that belied his size. Barcodes beeped in a rapid-fire rhythm
"Wow, that's some speed!" Gojo remarked, genuinely impressed.
"I've been looking for Sougen Green Tea, but I didn't find any," Akira commented, watching the items vanish into bags.
"Sorry, sir," Shin piped up, trying to sound normal despite his nerves. "We ran out. Every time we get new inventory, some men in suits buy all of it in bulk, including the stock in the back."
Akira's expression didn't change, but he instantly knew who was responsible, the rich stalker that has been sending him... explicit photos "Can I ask you to save me a full box the moment you replenish your inventory? I will pay for it upfront."
"We can arrange that," Shin said, managing a small smile.
The door chimed again
A man in a rumpled suit walked in. His eyes, hollow and desperate, immediately locked onto Sakamoto. In one jerky movement, he pulled a pistol from his jacket and leveled it at the large cashier.
"You will die, Sakamoto!" he snarled.
CRACK.
The sound wasn't a gunshot. It was the sound of a skull meeting linoleum. One moment the gunman was standing, the next he was flat on his back, unconscious, the gun clattering away. Yoshioka Akira stood over him, having moved in a blur too fast for any normal eye to follow.
"What was that all about?" Gojo asked, utterly unfazed, as he casually walked over and crouched next to the unconscious man.
Shin, pale and stammering, tried to salvage the situation. "I-It must have been a crazy man! Yeah, that's it!"
Akira and Gojo ignored him. Akira flipped the man over, retrieving a wallet. Flipping it open, he pulled out an ID card. "Look. He's part of the JAA."
"An assassin?" Gojo mused, tapping his chin. "Why would an assassin want to kill a simple convenience store owner?"
"Because there is a bounty on my head," Sakamoto stated simply, his voice still calm as he continued bagging the snacks
"Sakamoto-san?!" Shin and Lu exclaimed in unison.
"I see," Akira said, straightening up. "So, you have assassins after you."
Sakamoto gave a single, heavy nod.
"Wait, he knew?" Shin whispered to Lu.
"Not explicitly," Akira replied, his crimson eyes meeting Sakamoto's "But I knew he was not a normal person from the moment I first came to this store. And I believe he knew I knew. I simply did not bring it up" He paused. "I understand what it is like for someone to want to live a normal life."
Sakamoto nodded again, a flicker of understanding passing between the two men.
"Well, I knew you weren't a simple cashier," Gojo chimed in, grinning. "You have defined muscles even under all that fat. That's not a civilian physique. And besides," he pointed a thumb at the flustered Shin, "Your assistant here has been trying to poke around in our heads since we walked in."
Shin's face turned bright red.
"Though it's curious," Gojo continued, his Six Eyes analyzing Shin with clinical interest. "Your brain seems to have developed an ability similar to an innate Cursed Technique, but it's purely biological. No Cursed Energy used. How fascinating!"
"Cursed Technique?!" Lu gasped. "Wait… you guys are sorcerers?!"
"Took you long enough," Gojo said with a wink.
"You have a bounty" Akira redirected the conversation back to Sakamoto. "Is there a reason for that?"
"We are working on that" Sakamoto replied cryptically.
"Just out of curiosity," Gojo leaned on the counter, "How much is the bounty?"
"One billion yen."
Gojo let out a low whistle. "Phew. That's a lot. You must have pissed off some very important, very petty people."
Akira reached into his jacket, pulled out a small notebook, and wrote a number on a page. He tore it out and slid it across the counter to Sakamoto.
"If you need help, I am willing to provide it," Akira said, his tone matter-of-fact. "It would be a shame if my preferred convenience store closed because the owner was killed"
Sakamoto looked at the number, then at Akira. He gave a final, definitive nod and pocketed the paper.
"Do not forget the tea," Akira reminded him as he and Gojo hefted the four massive bags of snacks. He placed a stack of bills on the counter, the exact amount, plus a significant tip. "I will be waiting."