The afternoon sun cast warm light through the floor-to-ceiling windows onto the wooden floor of the café.
In the window booth, three drinks sat quietly steaming—a caramel macchiato for Eriri, black coffee for Utaha, and lemon black tea for Megumi Kato. The air was filled with the roasted aroma of coffee beans and the sweetness of baked muffins, while soft jazz piano played in the background. Everything seemed calm and ordinary.
If not for the expressions on the faces of the three girls sitting there.
Eriri was unconsciously stirring the milk foam in her cup with a spoon. Her golden twin tails shimmered in the afternoon sun, but her brows were slightly furrowed, and her blue eyes stared at the swirling patterns in the cup, looking thoughtful.
Across from her, Utaha Kasumigaoka propped her chin with one hand, her fingers quickly scrolling through her phone screen with the other. Her crimson eyes were focused on something—the interface appeared to be an electronic note on cursed energy theory. Today, she wasn't wearing her special cursed glasses, having switched back to her ordinary black-rimmed glasses. Her long hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her long legs, wrapped in black stockings, elegantly crossed beneath the hem of her black school uniform.
And Megumi Kato, sitting between them, quietly sipped her lemon tea. Her presence was still incredibly faint; even sitting by the brightest window, she seemed as if she might blend into the background at any moment. But at that moment, her black eyes slowly drifted between Eriri and Utaha, calmly observing.
"So," Utaha finally put down her phone, picked up her black coffee, took a sip, and looked at Eriri through her lenses. "Satoru Gojo came to your house yesterday and invited you to study at the Jujutsu Technical College. Lord Zen'in Genji agreed, and even suggested that all three of us go—is that right?"
Eriri nodded, her spoon lightly tapping the edge of the cup. "Yes. He said the college's teaching resources are more systematic, and…" She paused, her voice becoming a little quieter. "He said you have very good research talent, and Kato's constitution is also very special, so you need systematic study."
Utaha raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips lifting in a very faint arc—whether sarcastic or self-deprecating was unclear. "I'm an ordinary person with nearly zero cursed energy, and I'm going to study at a sorcerer's school? That sounds as ridiculous as an illiterate person studying the theory of relativity."
Eriri said seriously, "Genji said that the questions you ask are things many sorcerers never even think about. He said that if you had been born a thousand years ago, he would definitely have taken you as a disciple, responsible for theoretical research."
Utaha's fingers paused slightly at those words. She was silent for a few seconds, then took off her glasses and carefully wiped them with the corner of her shirt—a thinking habit of hers.
"Nevertheless," she put her glasses back on, her tone returning to its usual calm, "the college is the only formal educational institution in the jujutsu world, and its admission criteria are 'cursed energy' and 'combat ability.' I have neither. Why would they accept me?"
"Gojo-sensei said he could find a way," Eriri said. "And Genji also said that if the college won't accept us, he can teach us privately. Anyway…" She turned her head away, the roots of her ears slightly red. "He said teaching one is the same as teaching three, and he's waited a thousand years; a few more years won't matter."
A typical Zen'in Genji statement—casual, open, with the calm of a thousand years of sedimentation.
Silence fell over the booth. The streets outside the window were filled with traffic, pedestrians hurried by, and in the distance, the bell tower and spire of Toyonoki Academy could be seen, glowing gold in the sunset.
"I don't mind," Megumi Kato suddenly spoke, her voice very soft, but clear enough to reach their ears.
Eriri and Utaha looked at her simultaneously.
Megumi Kato put down her teacup, placed her hands on her knees, and sat up straight, as if answering a question in class.
"If the college agrees to accept me, I'll go. If not, I can continue studying at Toyonoki Academy and learn from Lord Zen'in Genji in my spare time," she paused and added, "Anyway, for me, it's just like signing up for an extracurricular interest class. My mom would have to handle the school procedures, I suppose."
She said it so calmly, so indifferently, that Eriri was a little stunned. An ordinary person suddenly dragged into a world of sorcery, forced to go to a completely unfamiliar place to study supernatural knowledge—Megumi Kato seemed to treat it as simply as "changing classrooms for a lesson."
"Aren't you… scared?" Eriri couldn't help asking. "The jujutsu world, cursed spirits, combat… they're dangerous."
"Scared?" Megumi Kato tilted her head, as if seriously considering the problem. "A little. But Lord Zen'in Genji said he would protect us, and Gojo-sensei also promised safety. And…"
She paused, a faint, almost invisible curiosity flickering in her black eyes.
"Being able to see what ordinary people can't see, knowing another side of the world, studying this hidden knowledge… it sounds quite interesting. At least more interesting than ordinary extracurricular prep schools."
Utaha smiled softly. She picked up her coffee cup and looked out the window at the street, her crimson eyes reflecting the flowing light.
"I think so too," she said. "Cursed energy theory, barrier principles, cursed spirit ecology… this knowledge is valuable in itself. Even if I can never become a combat sorcerer, being able to systematically study, record, and research these things will broaden my horizons as a creator."
She turned her head and looked at Eriri. "Besides, Lord Zen'in Genji is right. The study of cursed energy cannot be confined to the narrow circle of sorcerers. It needs more people with different backgrounds and perspectives. Although my cursed energy is weak, at least in terms of 'understanding' and 'analysis,' I'm confident I won't lose to anyone."
Eriri looked at them, opened her mouth as if to say something, but swallowed the words.
She remembered the worried look in her mother's eyes when Satoru Gojo visited yesterday. She remembered the tired expression on her father's face when he mentioned the Ginza case. She thought about the black hands on the bus, the invisible monsters that could appear at any moment.
She also thought about the joy when her palm condensed that small light, Genji's patience when teaching her to control cursed energy, and the shock when she learned that the world had another side.
It's dangerous, but exciting.
It's scary, but real.
And… She didn't want to always hide behind others.
"What about… Tomoya's club?" Eriri finally spoke, her voice a little dry.
The question was a bit abrupt. Utaha and Megumi Kato were momentarily stunned.
"We just agreed to join his game club," Eriri continued, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her skirt. "Although his proposal still has many problems, and that guy is unreliable, we… after all, we agreed. If we go to study at the college, our free time will be occupied, and then…"
She didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.
If they went to the college, they might not have the time or energy to participate in Tomoya Aki's "Blessing Software" club.
Silence fell over the booth again.
The sunset outside the window had deepened further, the orange-red light slanting in, casting long shadows on the table. The customers in the café had changed. The couple in the corner had left, replaced by an office worker typing on a laptop.
"Eriri," Utaha said slowly, a rare, almost soft calm in her voice. "Do you know the probability that this game club will actually produce a finished product?"
Eriri was silent.
She knew. She knew it all too well.
As a fan artist, she had seen too many projects fizzle out, too many "dreams" that died after the initial enthusiasm. Although Tomoya had enthusiasm and drive, he lacked too many things—systematic knowledge, mature planning, stable resources, and the ability to face reality.
"Less than 10%," Utaha answered for her. "And that's an optimistic estimate. In reality, given the current level of preparation and resources, the probability of this project being stillborn is over 90%."
She said it cruelly, but realistically.
"Moreover," Utaha paused, adding, "even if it were possible, given the time and effort the three of us can currently invest, the help we could provide is very limited. I'm a professional writer with my own serialization and publishing contracts. You're a popular artist with your schedule booked through next year. Kato knows nothing about game production and can only be a 'heroine prototype.' This isn't so much a 'team' as it is a 'temporary passion project.'"
She picked up her cold black coffee, drank it in one gulp, and gently set the cup down.
"So if Tomoya really wants to make a game, he needs more professional and experienced partners, full-time team members who can dedicate themselves, and real financial and resource support. Instead of relying on our 'favors' and 'enthusiasm' to hold the three of us together, only for us all to end up half-hearted and unable to produce anything decent."
Eriri lowered her head, her fingers gripping her skirt tightly.
She knew Utaha was right. But the guilt in her heart, the apology to her childhood friend, and the obsession of "I could have helped him more" made it impossible for her to easily say "quit."
"Kasumigaoka-senpai is right," Megumi Kato said quietly, drawing the attention of the other two.
She calmly looked at Eriri, her black eyes crystal clear.
"Eriri, you promised to help Tomoya out of a sense of guilt, didn't you?"
Eriri suddenly looked up, her eyes wide.
"How… how do you…"
"I can see it," Megumi Kato said. "The way you look at him, the tone of your conversations, and the fact that you agree to help even though you're very busy… it all shows that you're not helping him just because you 'want to help,' but because you 'feel you have to help.'"
She paused and added, "But guilt cannot sustain a long-term collaboration. If Tomoya really wants to make a game, he doesn't need your 'compensation.' He needs your 'professionalism.' And professionalism takes time and effort to polish."
"If," Megumi Kato looked out the window, her voice very soft, "going to the Technical College takes up a lot of your time and energy to improve your 'professionalism,' then the result might be that you neither actually help him nor delay your own growth. A lose-lose situation."
After these words, a long silence fell over the booth.
Eriri stared at Megumi Kato in a daze, looking at the girl who was usually faint and spoke little, and for the first time realized how perceptive she was.
Utaha also raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of appreciation flickering in her crimson eyes.
"Kato is right," Utaha leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "It's good for that hot-headed fool to calm down. According to his idea, he's probably hoping to get free art and freeload off some of us—using empty words like 'dreams' and 'masterpieces' in exchange for our free time and skills. For an entrepreneur, a team that relies on so-called 'personal relationships' to hold together is not sustainable."
She paused, her tone becoming serious:
"Unless he can provide adequate benefit exchange—a clear business contract, reasonable compensation distribution, professional project management. Otherwise, the club is doomed to fall apart from the start."
Eriri took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
She looked at the caramel macchiato, now cold in her cup, at the solidified milk foam on the surface. After a long time, she finally spoke quietly:
"I… understand."
She looked up, her blue eyes flickering with a complex light, but they were more determined than before.
"I'll make it clear to Tomoya. If he wants to continue making games, he needs to develop truly professional plans and resources. If he can't…" She bit her lower lip. "Then I'll have to regret it."
A typical Eriri choice—seeming like a compromise, but actually drawing a clear line.
Utaha smiled and said nothing more. She picked up her phone again and started taking notes—probably inspiration from this conversation, or new thoughts on cursed energy theory.
Megumi Kato also picked up her cup again, taking small sips of her lemon tea, returning to her calm and indifferent self.
The sky outside the window gradually darkened. The streetlights came on one by one, the café lights automatically switched on, and a warm yellow halo enveloped this small table.
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