Chapter 132: Fatherly Care
The night breeze was cool.
It swept through the ruined apartment and carried away the lingering smell of smoke and burnt flesh.
After Yami's slash destroyed Q's strongest combatants, Riko Amanai, who had been noisy and defiant since the beginning, finally fell silent.
For the first time in her life, the girl raised as the Star Plasma Vessel understood what true security felt like.
It was not the security promised by adults who spoke of duty, sacrifice, and the greater good.
It was the feeling that as long as one person stood in front of her, even if the sky collapsed, she would not have to be afraid.
The Assistant Supervisors from Jujutsu High moved quickly.
After confirming that Q had been crushed and the immediate danger had passed, they arranged an inconspicuous safe house on the outskirts of Tokyo.
It was a detached villa, surrounded by several layers of barriers. The barriers could isolate Cursed Energy fluctuations and block physical surveillance, making it difficult for ordinary Curse Users to locate the place without precise information.
"Finally…"
Suguru Geto stepped into the villa and dropped onto the sofa, rubbing his temples.
"We can rest for a bit."
Strictly speaking, he had not even gotten the chance to fight earlier. But between dealing with Riko's temper and Satoru Gojo's mouth, he somehow felt more exhausted than he would after fighting two Grade 1 Cursed Spirits.
"Hey!"
Riko stood in the middle of the living room with her hands on her hips, looking around the safe house with clear dissatisfaction.
"I'm the Star Plasma Vessel! Are you seriously making me sleep somewhere like this?"
The guest room was clean, but plain. To someone who had spent most of her life being treated as something sacred, it clearly did not meet her standards.
"Kuroi! I want a bath! And I want high-grade Wagyu beef!"
Misato Kuroi stood at the side, looking troubled.
"Young Miss Riko, this is a special situation. Jujutsu High prepared this safe house in a hurry, so there are only some instant meals available…"
"I don't want instant meals!"
Riko sat down on a chair with a pout, her eyes faintly red.
In truth, she did not care that much about Wagyu beef.
She was afraid.
That was all.
An unfamiliar place. Strangers guarding her. An unknown fate waiting ahead. The knowledge that countless people wanted her dead before she could even decide what she wanted for herself.
Her willfulness was the only armor she had.
"Kids are such a pain."
Gojo leaned against the doorframe with a lollipop in his mouth, speaking around the candy.
"You're lucky there's food at all. I'm protecting you, you know. I didn't even get to buy my limited-edition dessert today."
"You white-haired jerk! Who asked you to protect me?"
"Everyone with common sense."
"You have no common sense!"
The two were about to start arguing again when a crisp sound came from the kitchen.
Clack.
Everyone turned.
At some point, Yami had put on a pink apron that clashed badly with his usual calm, sharp temperament.
He stood at the counter with an ordinary kitchen knife in hand, slicing ingredients into neat strips at a speed that made the blade blur.
Geto stared.
"What is Instructor Yami doing?"
"Cooking," Yami said without turning around.
His voice was calm as ever.
"Instant meals aren't nutritious."
He paused, then glanced back at Riko.
A rare softness entered his eyes.
"And a girl who's still growing should eat properly."
The living room fell quiet.
Riko stared at his back.
Something in her chest tightened.
Since childhood, she had been treated with respect. Everyone around her was polite. Everyone called her important.
But that respect had always carried a condition.
She was respected because she was the Star Plasma Vessel.
Because she would one day disappear for Master Tengen.
Because her life had already been assigned a purpose before she was old enough to understand what life even was.
No one had ever treated her as an ordinary middle-school girl who needed to eat well because she was still growing.
Less than half an hour later, four dishes, one soup, and a neatly rolled tamagoyaki were placed on the dining table.
The ingredients were nothing special, just whatever had been left in the refrigerator. Yet under Yami's control, the food looked and smelled far better than it had any right to.
Gojo swallowed first.
His eyes locked onto the tamagoyaki.
"Whoa. Instructor Yami, you can cook too? That tamagoyaki looks better than the one from that century-old shop I like."
He reached for it.
Yami's chopsticks tapped the back of his hand without mercy.
"Wash your hands."
His tone carried the unmistakable authority of a strict head of household.
Gojo clicked his tongue.
"Stingy."
Then he obediently went to wash his hands.
At the table, Riko took a small bite from her bowl.
Then another.
Her shoulders trembled.
Large tears fell into the rice, one after another.
Yami frowned slightly and handed her a tissue.
"What's wrong? Does it not suit your taste?"
"No…"
Riko shook her head and wiped her eyes messily.
"It's not that."
She looked up at him with a seriousness far beyond her age.
"It's delicious."
Her voice shook.
"It's the best meal I've ever had."
Then, without thinking, she said softly, "Big Brother Yami… thank you."
The words came out naturally.
No calculation.
No performance.
Kuroi, watching from the side, lowered her head as her own eyes grew wet.
She knew better than anyone how badly Riko had longed for simple kindness without a hidden purpose.
After dinner, Riko took a shower.
When she returned, she was wearing oversized pajamas and hugging a pillow. She stood in the living room, hesitant and uneasy.
"Um…"
Yami was wiping Shiranui with a cloth. Hearing her voice, he set the blade down and looked over.
"What is it?"
"I…"
Riko lowered her head. Her voice became so small it almost vanished.
"I'm scared."
Her fingers tightened around the pillow.
"When I close my eyes, I keep seeing those people with knives. I can't sleep."
Yami looked at her trembling shoulders and sighed quietly.
He stood and walked over.
"Go back to your room."
Riko looked up.
"I'll guard the door," Yami said.
Her eyes lit with surprise.
"Really?"
"Mm."
Yami nodded.
"As long as I'm here, no one will hurt you."
That night, Yami sat in the hallway outside Riko's room like an old father standing guard over his child.
He did not sleep.
He only sat there with Shiranui resting beside him, his breathing quiet and steady. A faint warmth flowed from him, passing through the gap beneath the door and easing the tension in the room.
Wrapped in that secure warmth, Riko's breathing gradually slowed.
Before long, she finally fell into a deep sleep.
At the end of the hallway, Gojo and Geto leaned against the wall, watching Yami's unmoving figure.
"Hey, Suguru."
Gojo crossed his arms and smiled with obvious amusement.
"Don't you think Instructor Yami looks like a mother hen guarding her chick?"
Geto gave him a sideways look.
"Satoru, if you don't want to be split in half by that terrifying slash, I suggest you take that back."
Gojo shrugged.
"But…"
Geto's gaze returned to Yami, and his expression grew more thoughtful.
"The way Instructor Yami protects Riko-chan does feel unusual."
His voice lowered.
"It's like he once lost someone important, and now he's desperately trying to make sure it doesn't happen again."
Gojo pushed his sunglasses up slightly.
A faint light flickered in his pale blue eyes.
"Who knows."
Then his smile returned, though it was quieter than usual.
"But with him here, this mission got a lot more interesting."
The night deepened.
Outside the safe house, somewhere in the forest, leaves rustled softly.
Yami's eyes remained closed.
But his perception through the Transparent World had already spread across every corner within a hundred meters, as fine and precise as a spiderweb.
He did not move.
Only his fingers tightened slightly around Shiranui's sheath.
In the blind spots of the barriers, hidden beneath the cover of night, several faint but unmistakable killing intents locked onto the villa.
The assassins of the Star Religious Group had arrived.
.....
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