"Oh, wow. Got you."
A cool, youthful voice rang out behind Ryder.
"Ryder Zenin. You killed someone. That is a hell of a headline."
Ryder showed no surprise. He pressed his lips together slightly and did not even turn around.
"Why are you here?"
"Tch. Still boring as ever, Ryder Zenin."
The boy behind him clicked his tongue. With a lazy twist of his body, he was already in front of Ryder.
Silver hair spilled down like frost in an autumn night. He wore plain black clothes and a pair of sunglasses perched on a high nose bridge.
He looked completely relaxed.
Even though he'd just witnessed a murder, he acted like this was nothing new.
He crouched in front of Ryder, pulled out a camera, and started snapping photos in rapid-fire bursts.
"Don't waste your effort. You won't be able to capture me," Ryder said, rare helplessness slipping into his expression.
The silver-haired boy clearly did not listen. The camera kept flashing.
Then he checked the film.
Pure black.
Not even a trace of Ryder.
"Your jujutsu is seriously weird."
With a casual flick of his left hand, the camera vanished into thin air.
Ryder slowly sat up from the wisteria-patterned rocking chair.
"Aren't you supposed to be busy, being the one everyone's pegged as the next Gojo clan head?"
He looked up.
"Satoru Gojo."
"Hey, what kind of tone is that?" Gojo lifted a brow and shrugged, putting on an exaggerated, wounded look.
"I came all the way out here to see you and this is the welcome I get?"
He smiled, bright and easy.
"We're friends, right?"
Ryder stood.
He snapped his fingers again. Under Gojo's curious gaze, the wisteria rocking chair faded into nothingness.
"Long time no see, Satoru."
"Don't get all sappy, Ryder."
The two of them exchanged a grin.
This was Satoru Gojo, the future pinnacle of power in the jujutsu world.
He was still a teenager, but the aura of a king already clung to him.
Years ago, before Ryder had been driven out of the Zenin family, the Big Three clans held a joint exchange.
Gojo had been the center of it all.
For some reason, he spotted Ryder instantly, even though Ryder should have been swallowed by the crowd.
Back then, Gojo was like a proud dragon, forced to listen to the flattery of predators and parasites. Bored, he scanned the room.
Then, as if guided by something he could not name, his gaze landed on the quiet boy in the corner.
In that instant, a ridiculous thought struck him.
A kindred spirit.
One boy adored like a star. One boy stuck in the mud.
And somehow, they became friends.
Then Ryder left the Zenin household, and the connection snapped clean.
Until tonight.
"Yeah, it's been a while," Gojo said, still smiling, squatting down and looking up at the sky.
A low, windlike moan rolled through the air.
Black-purple curse energy gathered overhead, thickening, tangling into a web.
"A Grade 2 sorcerer dying in a place soaked in curses, with resentment in his heart, can give birth to something new," Gojo said, resting his chin on his palm.
Behind the sunglasses, his eyes watched the phenomenon with obvious interest.
"I know," Ryder replied, posture straight as a spear.
He stared at the growing mass of curse energy, voice flat.
"So what?"
"If a new curse is born, so what?"
"A killer dies by the blade."
"Even if he comes back as a curse..."
Ryder's voice turned even colder.
"I'll just kill him again."
Gojo froze for a beat.
Then the corner of his mouth rose.
"You really are..."
A huge roar tore through the night.
A new cursed spirit took shape in midair, born from the dead Grade 2's hatred.
It was a monster made of arms.
No head.
No torso.
Just countless limbs layered and fused into a writhing, obscene curse.
Near-Grade 1. Born.
"Mine! It's all mine!"
"All of it!"
The curse muttered with obsessive conviction. Its entire body twisted, then with a thunderous crack it launched like a cannonball toward the two of them.
The impact of its momentum kicked up a gale, whipping their clothes.
Gojo nudged his sunglasses up slightly.
He did not even glance at the incoming monster.
He just looked at Ryder, still amused.
"This is seriously interesting."
Then Gojo's hands moved, forming a strange sign.
The air boomed.
Something snapped into place.
The near-Grade 1 curse froze mid-flight, locked in the sky like it had been nailed there.
"Ugh... ugh..."
Gojo leaned in and bumped Ryder's shoulder, teasing.
"See? This is what friends are for."
"Your mess. I handled it."