Kira delivered the line with a perfectly straight face.
He was about to pin another crime on Hasegawa Kaede.
You're already dead. Nobody knows you're dead. Carrying a few extra charges is practically community service for your ancestors, right?
As the saying goes: honor the dead. Honor the dead. But with great power comes great responsibility—so she had the duty and obligation to take the fall.
"Kira-kun, are you certain?"
Gojo clicked his tongue, his handsome profile barely containing its amusement:
"Old man, last night I was attacked by two Special Grade Cursed Spirits."
"Oh, how terribly unfortunate."
Gakuganji said the word unfortunate without a trace of actual regret:
"Were you hurt?"
"Don't get the wrong idea."
Gojo rested a hand on his knee and leaned forward, his voice casual:
"For me, it was about as threatening as being stopped on the street to fill out a survey."
Gakuganji clicked his tongue but didn't argue.
"What I'm trying to say is—"
That smile of his held steady—faint and gentle, as if it could never change:
"The power that your foolishness has kept suppressed all this time? It's starting to stir."
"Ready to be left behind by the times, old man?"
"Gojo-sensei, please show our principal some respect!"
Miwa remembered her sacred duty not to bring shame upon the school.
She pressed the point through gritted teeth.
Kira took over:
"Regardless, this much is clear: Special Grade Curse User Hasegawa Kaede has allied herself with the Cursed Spirits."
"Not trusting Gojo is understandable. His reputation for, let's say, creative thinking precedes him."
"But surely you'll take my word for it?"
Under Gojo's expression of did you just undercut me—how am I supposed to look cool now, Kira spoke with earnest sincerity:
"After all, I've never had any bad intentions."
You were the most devious kid in our entire class!
What stung Gojo most was that the other two people in the room both nodded in agreement when Kira said it.
"I do trust Kira-kun. I haven't forgotten that you saved my life."
Gakuganji's face was half-lost in shadow, his voice rasping:
"But if you're claiming Hasegawa Kaede has joined forces with Special Grade Cursed Spirits, you need concrete evidence."
The corner of Kira's mouth lifted imperceptibly. Finally. He'd led the old man right where he wanted him.
He tapped the edge of the table, one beat at a time, his eyes fixed on Gakuganji's:
"During the incident in Tokyo, I fought a Special Grade Cursed Spirit alongside Todo and Mechamaru. Its name was Hanami. It had plant-like horns growing from its head."
"It appeared to be working under Hasegawa Kaede."
Gakuganji nodded. Mechamaru had presumably already reported as much.
"And last night—"
Kira's gaze flicked toward the sulking Gojo beside him.
"One of the two Special Grade Cursed Spirits I encountered last night also had plant-like horns on its head."
That part was true.
Gakuganji's expression darkened.
"Why should I take your word for it?"
"Send someone to inspect the scene. Traces of Hanami's Cursed Energy are still there—a field of beautiful flowers."
The fish was nibbling at the hook.
"...Even if Hasegawa Kaede really has allied with the Cursed Spirits, what difference does it make?"
Kira smiled faintly and shook his head, as though the answer were obvious:
"Don't you see?"
"What is Hasegawa Kaede's innate technique?"
"...Body possession? Taking over someone else's body?"
"Then who could be more suitable targets than you—the jujutsu higher-ups?"
"What happened in Kyoto—what's to stop it from happening in Tokyo?"
Cold sweat broke across Gakuganji's face instantly.
"That—"
"And what if it's already happened?"
Kira cut him off, his voice low:
"What if it's already happened, and we simply don't know?"
"Hasegawa's technique only needs ten days to devour a person's soul and inherit their entire personality and memory. It's been a full month since the Kyoto incident."
"Can you honestly say that the people you work with every day—the ones you debate, the ones you consult—are really who you think they are?"
Gakuganji's brow spasmed.
"Could it be..."
Kira's voice was soft now, like a devil's whisper—quiet, yet landing in the heart like a series of hammer blows:
"Could it be that none of them are themselves anymore? With this many Special Grade Cursed Spirits assisting her, ambushing a few sorcerers without leaving a trace wouldn't be difficult, would it?"
"Could it be that the jujutsu higher-ups are already riddled with her soul fragments?"
"That's impossible! Impossible!"
"Think carefully about this whole incident, Principal Gakuganji. Think about this attack that Hasegawa Kaede orchestrated."
"I know it was you—the leader of the conservative faction—who decided to send first-years to handle it."
"But can you truly say your judgment wasn't influenced? That nobody whispered suggestions in your ear?"
Gakuganji's brow twitched violently. A face flashed through his mind.
"So I was right."
That had been a guess on Kira's part. Someone always offered suggestions—it made them look useful, attentive.
"Who's the wolf in sheep's clothing? And who's the sheep about to be devoured?"
"Anyone could be compromised. Including you—even you, I can't fully trust."
Kira delivered his final line, stood, straightened his collar, and walked out with Gojo.
Behind them, Gakuganji sat in silence, head bowed, face ashen.
The memory of those ten days of living hell surged back.
"Hasegawa Kaede..."
They emerged around noon. After parting with Miwa—who chased them down for an autograph—they found an izakaya at the foot of the mountain.
Two tall glasses of wheat beer. Grilled baby squid for bar snacks. A few plates of sardine sashimi, all properly chilled on ice—nothing better on a summer day.
"You really are full of nasty ideas."
Gojo poured himself a drink, downed it in one gulp, and grinned:
"Now those old fossils will be looking over their shoulders, doubting each other. Nothing but suspicion and paranoia. Until they catch Hasegawa Kaede—who, by the way, doesn't exist anymore—they'll never be able to unite on another brainless order."
Because they were no longer a united front.
"This buys Yuji Itadori the time he needs to grow."
Gojo crossed his legs and popped a piece of squid into his mouth, talking around it.
"Sounds like you've gotten attached. Feelings for your students after all?"
Kira thought of the boy who dreamed of dying surrounded by people who cared about him, and shook his head:
"This is just payback against those idiot higher-ups for making me work overtime. And if these juniors grow into their own, I get to retire sooner."
That was the truth.
"Education. That's why they need teachers like us."
That was his dream.
Killing every last member of the jujutsu higher-ups would change nothing—the replacements would be cut from the same cloth.
Scheming. Backstabbing. Power-hungry.
Only education—raising a new generation—could truly overturn the world.
That was the path Satoru Gojo had chosen.
Gojo nodded and raised his glass:
"Let's drink to that, Nanami. This one's for you."
I've got the handshake event with Todo this afternoon—I really shouldn't be drinking...
Kira looked at Gojo's arm hanging in the air, sighed, and picked up his glass.
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
The sun blazed. Summer cicadas sang.
For now, the curtain fell on this particular act.