Chapter 56: A Solitary Bitter Summer
Satoru Gojo suddenly shouted, his tone full of excitement, without a hint of frustration from his defeat. "Incredible! Truly incredible, Toho! Your eyes can force a Domain into the mental world to counter it? You can even attack the soul directly? That's just cheating! Absolutely cheating!"
He pointed at Toho Hiroshi, as if he had discovered some earth-shattering secret.
The scarlet in Toho Hiroshi's eyes slowly faded, returning to their usual black. His tone was calm. "It's that you rely too much on the absolute nature of Unlimited Void. Every Cursed Technique has its weaknesses."
"Tch, easy for you to say."
Satoru Gojo curled his lip, but then a crazy, target-finding smile appeared on his face. "But that's what makes it interesting. Limitless and Unlimited Void aren't the end? There's still a monster like you waiting for me to surpass!"
He strode over to Toho Hiroshi, completely ignoring the fact that he'd just been stabbed in the mental world, and threw an arm around Toho Hiroshi's shoulder with surprising force.
"It's decided. The next person to win will definitely be me."
Satoru Gojo declared, his pale blue Six Eyes fixed on Toho Hiroshi. "Just wait, Hao. I am Satoru Gojo; I will definitely find a way to break your Tsukuyomi space."
"Whether it's by crushing you with a stronger Domain or finding the trick to defending against mental attacks. I'm only lending you the throne of the strongest for now."
His voice was loud and confident, without a trace of gloom, only a pure and fiery fighting spirit ignited by a stronger force.
Toho Hiroshi was choked by his grip and pushed him away with an elbow, expressionless. "Idiot, you're burning me up. You're a hundred years too early to beat me."
Despite his words, a faint, almost imperceptible smile flashed in his eyes.
This was Satoru Gojo—he would never be defeated, only grow stronger with every battle.
Having such an opponent and sworn friend didn't seem so bad.
The Jujutsu High training ground had been completely reduced to ruins; the massive craters, torn-up earth, and the terrifying lingering Cursed Energy in the air all testified to the astonishing destructive power of their recent "spar."
Yaga Masamichi stood at the edge of the ruins, veins bulging on his forehead, his fists clenched so tight they creaked.
"You two bastards—!"
The roar nearly blew the leaves off the trees in the distance. "How many times is this this month?! You're going to burn through the repair budget! Go write me a reflection report! One hundred thousand characters! If you miss a single character, you're staying in solitary confinement until graduation!"
However, the culprits clearly didn't take this anger to heart.
Satoru Gojo picked his ear, indifferent. "Oh, Yaga, don't be so stingy~ This is a necessary investment for technological progress! Right, Hao?"
Toho Hiroshi expressionlessly brushed the dust off his clothes. "The venue is too fragile. I suggest rebuilding with stronger materials."
Yaga's blood pressure continued to skyrocket.
Suguru Geto stood a little further away, watching the two still bickering. Although a gentle smile still hung on his face, the waves deep in his eyes were hard to conceal. "Unlimited Void" "Tsukuyomi space".
They had both stepped into that brand-new realm that he could only look up to.
And what about him?
Although he had mastered "Uzumaki" and absorbed Tamamo-no-Mae, greatly increasing his strength, the barrier of a Domain—which felt like a chasm—was something he still hadn't touched the threshold of.
An emotion mixed with anxiety, reluctance, and self-doubt wound around his heart like vines once again.
It should have been a happy thing that his friends were getting stronger, but that gap lay so clearly before his eyes, reminding him of his own stagnation.
He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the surging emotions.
The number of Curse incidents in the summer of 2009 was absurd, as if the negative emotions of the entire society were fermenting and steaming along with the sweltering weather.
Toho Hiroshi and Satoru Gojo, who had only been resting at Jujutsu High for a few days, had barely sat down before their phones rang simultaneously.
Yaga Masamichi's message was concise: "Near the waters of Okinawa, a suspected Special Grade Cursed Spirit has been born. The Cursed Energy fluctuations highly match the path of the strong typhoon'Storm God' from a few weeks ago. Proceed immediately to exorcise."
Satoru Gojo bit into a new flavor of lollipop, his Six Eyes behind his sunglasses flashing with curiosity. "Whoa, a typhoon Cursed Spirit? Sounds interesting."
Toho Hiroshi put away his phone, his expression calm. "Let's go. Solve it early, come back early."
The two figures instantly vanished from Jujutsu High, heading straight for their destination using Kamui and high-speed movement with Limitless.
Meanwhile, Suguru Geto was not idle either.
He did not act with Toho Hiroshi and Satoru Gojo but operated alone, frequently traveling through the streets and alleys of Tokyo and surrounding prefectures, like a tireless cleaner, exorcising those low-level Cursed Spirits that seemed endless.
He knew that "Cursed Spirit Manipulation" required accumulation.
Every time he swallowed those foul-tasting cursed spirit orbs, it was to become stronger, to keep up with the pace of those two, and for the "righteousness" he firmly believed in.
But the frequency was too high.
Grade 4, Grade 3, Grade 2—these weak Cursed Spirits seemed endless. Just as they were exorcised from dark corners and the negative emotions of crowds, new ones would soon spawn.
He was like a person stuck in a quagmire, struggling constantly, yet only sinking deeper and deeper, unable to see an end.
His inner exhaustion grew day by day, and the nausea from swallowing cursed spirit orbs had almost become a physiological norm, tormenting his nerves.
The final straw that broke the camel's back occurred on a sweltering afternoon.
Suguru Geto had just exorcised a Grade 2 Cursed Spirit lurking near a trash station in an old residential area. The Cursed Spirit resembled a rotting wild dog, feeding on the complaints and laziness of the residents.
He endured the nausea and swallowed the pitch-black Cursed Spirit orb; the taste of a rag used to wipe up vomit made him turn pale.
Just as he was preparing to leave, cries and laughter came from a nearby alley.
Several flashy, delinquent-looking youths were surrounding a thin middle-school student, snatching his wallet, pushing him, slapping him, and spewing foul language.
"Poor wretch! Is this all the money you have?"
"Look at your pathetic face! What are you crying for!"
"Bring more next time, or we'll beat you every time we see you!"
The middle-school student curled up on the ground, trembling, his face full of fear and tears, begging incessantly: "Please... give it back to me..."
The surrounding residents had their windows tightly shut; occasionally, curtains would flutter, but no one spoke up to stop it.
Suguru Geto's footsteps stopped.
He looked at that scene, at the twisted malice and pleasure on the perpetrators' faces, at the helpless despair of the victim, at the indifference of the people around.
The Cursed Spirit he had just exorcised—its source perhaps came from this, from the ugliness of the Non-Sorcerers he and his companions were risking their lives to protect.
An indescribable sense of nausea surged into his throat, even worse than swallowing a Cursed Spirit orb.
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