Gojo Satoru didn’t expect Yuan Shanxiao to actually care about him. After all, while someone might claim, “I’d die without Teacher Gojo,” in the end, they’d replace his posters with a VR Antarctic landscape on their walls in Qing Valley. 

So, Gojo Satoru was genuinely surprised when, after he said, “Alright, Shanxiao, let’s start our duel now,” Yuan Shanxiao seriously lowered his head and hesitated, “What if I accidentally kill Teacher Gojo?”

Gojo Satoru: …

That single sentence felt like a thunderous roar, shattering the skies—absurdly impactful.

It was absurd, of course. He was Gojo Satoru, how could he possibly be killed—

But what Gojo Satoru found most ridiculous wasn’t that. Instead, his first thought upon hearing those words was, “Does this guy actually care about me for real?”

Gojo Satoru: …

What’s gotten into him?

…

And why are there question marks in the brackets?!

More than thinking about who would win a fight between him and Yuan Shanxiao, Gojo Satoru’s mind couldn’t stop pondering another matter—

Does the boy actually care about him??

It’s no wonder Gojo Satoru was skeptical.

The boy’s mind was just too chaotic.

Sometimes he seemed neurotic, sometimes reliable, and sometimes when he looked at him with pure eyes, he seemed genuinely sincere. Then he’d find out the boy had no guilt about betraying others nor fear—

“Why should I be scared if I’m not the one being deceived?” When asked, the boy would simply respond with puzzlement and then sheepishly scratch his cheek. “I’m not scared of doing something like ‘hurting others’.”

Gojo Satoru: …

You might want to think about what you’re saying.

His timid, scared, and rat-like student was saying this with an innocent face…!

If the boy’s outwardly timid appearance hadn’t been so deeply ingrained, perhaps his dark and damp remarks would’ve made his cold nature more apparent.

But it was more or less the same. Gojo Satoru had long sensed the “scum” side of the boy.

He’s different from many students at Tokyo Jujutsu High.

He champions justice—only hoping to meet just allies to protect him.

He leans towards kindness—only hoping to meet kind people to protect him.

He hopes his comrades survive—only hoping they live to protect him.

His underlying nature is filled with a fear of survival, and everything else—justice, kindness, bonds—are just seen as shields to protect him.

He truly seems to believe he’s living in an extreme world of terror. Thus, he doesn’t talk about justice, doesn’t care about good or evil, doesn’t mind about bonds.

He only cares about how to survive without being frightened.

So Gojo Satoru didn’t feel particularly special to the boy.

Even if special—just a slightly “harder” barrier, perhaps.

And when the day comes that a disaster that can destroy all barriers arrives—although Gojo Satoru is certain he would shield the boy from such a disaster—if such an extreme situation truly happens, the boy would surely flee again.

Because he is—

Equally—

Gojo Satoru sometimes remembers the boy’s gaze. It always seemed like he viewed everyone equally as dead or dying, hence his utilitarian use of them.

Just.

Gojo Satoru remembered when he went to report to the headquarters today, the old geezer across him went mad, pointing at him and accusing him of conspiring to kill the Mi family.

Gojo Satoru, fiddling with his ear in annoyance, listened for a long time until he finally stood up impatiently. As the old geezer shrank back from his towering presence, he finally understood what had happened.

The sniper who came after him yesterday died.

And not just that, all the old geezers behind the plan—those Jujutsu Sorcerers, mysteriously all died from bullets devoid of any cursed energy.

A bullet through the brain, with only the bullet and no trace of cursed energy in the head.

It’s simply…

“Ordinary bullets can’t kill them—”

In the end, the old geezer’s eyes, overtaken by fear, trembled as he rolled off the sofa and grabbed Gojo Satoru’s collar, his face sweaty and crumpled as he shouted.

That was when he knew, it was because a bullet had also been placed by the old geezer’s bedhead that he was so terrified.

No idea when or how it got there. No trace of cursed energy. But that bullet was just so coincidentally aimed at his temple.

He’s supposed to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer—he’s supposed to handle all horrors—

Yet he was terrified by this utterly normal event.

“That’s terrifying…”

Gojo Satoru, face cold, lips straight, finally couldn’t hold back and pulled his hand from his pocket, flicking away the old geezer trying to grab his collar.

He thought, both kneeling and begging, why does Yuan Shanxiao seem more pleasant than this old geezer?

“It must be you… It must have been you who killed them, only you, Gojo Satoru—only a Special Grade like you—”

Gojo Satoru, impatiently, kicked the now-fearful old geezer away. Even with this pace, still trying to grab his pant leg?

Gojo Satoru disdainfully curled his lip, kicking the man into the wall before speaking. “The person who harms others, can their guilt be so overwhelming?”

“How can you be so afraid, it’s super—disgusting.”

The headquarters later asked him to investigate the cause of death behind those geezers, and Gojo Satoru flipped the table in refusal.

“They send people to kill me and I have to investigate their deaths? I didn’t know I, Gojo Satoru, was such a good-tempered person.”

With that, the matter became an unsolved case.

Gojo Satoru could guess that this matter definitely had something to do with Yuan Shanxiao.

Ordinary bullets that can pass through a Jujutsu Sorcerer’s defense, probably wrapped in space.

The bullet that mysteriously appeared by the bedhead—teleported, perhaps.

But one thing still unclear. How did Yuan Shanxiao manage to leave no trace of cursed energy after using his technique?

Could it be his control over cursed energy is really that precise—? But it shouldn’t leave no trace.

Could he have a special Cursed Tool that helps him erase traces? But the Cursed Tool repository should have records of tool loans.

Could it be—

“Could it be that I’m really a genius!!”

Gojo Satoru: …

Gojo Satoru looked up, seeing the boy who, because of a cockroach on the balcony, dared not go out to hang laundry and thus, clumsily climbing the wall to hang his clothes on the air conditioning wires. The boy was marveling at his “clean” clothes that were now full of wall dust.

Then the next second, too astonished, he tripped over his left foot with his right foot—

“Bang,”

Gojo Satoru: …

Gojo Satoru felt that believing the world was a universally deadly horror realm was more reliable than believing the boy was a genius.

Gojo Satoru tried to subtly inquire about the death of the old geezers with the boy.

Unexpectedly, as soon as he asked, the boy spoke up frankly—

“The sniper [because he couldn’t negotiate a good enough salary, turned against them, and somehow really killed the high-ranking Jujutsu Sorcerers with bullets].”

Gojo Satoru: …

Are you an AI?

“That’s not right—”

“What’s not right about it?” the boy looked up. “That’s what my investigation report says.”

“It’s not about that—what investigation report??”

Gojo Satoru stared incredulously, the boy nonchalantly said, “I took on the task of investigating this matter, Principal Yaga was so happy to see me take initiative, he rewarded me with my favorite—”

Gojo Satoru suddenly covered the boy’s calmly chattering mouth. “So stop joking around. AI-kun.”

Gojo Satoru went over the boy’s words in his mind again, then couldn’t help but cover his own mouth.

So, is the World of Jujutsu doomed?

Letting the mastermind investigate his own crime.

He’s not afraid, of course—

“Of course, under my brilliant detective work, this case was smoothly closed, the adults followed my suggestion to donate to a poor orphan named Kondo Bore, and sure enough, they didn’t find bullets by their bedheads anymore, the adults were so pleased, they rewarded me with my favorite—”

Gojo Satoru’s hand moved instantly from his tightly pursed lips to cover the boy’s mouth.

Gojo Satoru felt this matter couldn’t be dwelled on deeply.

For instance, what connection does this so-called poor orphan named Kondo Bore have with the cheeky orphan named Yuan Shanxiao in front of him?

For instance, who was issuing the tasks, seeking help, and then who was closing the cases in the end—

For instance, he, Gojo Satoru, knew everything yet had to act as if he knew nothing, covering the boy’s mouth.

Even now,

Even now, he was being overwhelmed by complaints.

Yuan Shanxiao was willing to say only so much, then added, “…..heard I completed the task, was so pleased, rewarded me—”

Gojo Satoru instantly covered the boy’s mouth with his hand.

Gojo Satoru also tested, wanting to know how the boy left no trace of cursed energy.

Hearing Gojo Satoru’s question, the boy paused for two seconds, then calmly looked up, his pale lips moving.

“Does Teacher Gojo want to reward me too?”

Gojo Satoru: …

The atmosphere seemed to freeze for a moment at the boy’s electrifying remark, sunlight illuminating the floating dust in the air, and then—

“Teacher Gojo was so pleased to know I used the technique without leaving a trace, he rewarded me with not having to fight him and can avoid Cursed Spirit exorcism tasks, I can keep slacking at Tokyo Jujutsu High until my peers become Special Grade to protect me—”

Gojo Satoru: …

Not that, even though you’re being abstract, isn’t your logic pretty clear?

Taking and holding, don’t forget to carry the pot.

“Impossible.”

“Teacher Gojo was so pleased that I would tell him how I did it without leaving traces, he rewarded me—”

“You told me and it’s still impossible, we’ll go to the training ground to duel soon.”

“Teacher Gojo knows I—”

“Impossible.”

“Teacher Gojo knows—”

“Impossible.”

“Teacher Gojo—”

“Impossible.”

Finally, the boy lifted his head.

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Hmm?”

The boy leaned on the table, sincerely exclaiming.

“Teacher Gojo—really hard to deal with…”

“I’ll reward myself with a day trip to Antarctica—”

Gojo Satoru instinctively reached out, grabbing nothing.

In the end, he just silently, expertly, and calmly pretended nothing happened as he withdrew his hand.

So he must be imagining that the boy cares about him.

…

Perhaps there’s a little bit of caring.

But, Gojo Satoru’s head slowly leaned on his arms on the table, his palm sliding from his lips to his head. His voice muffled.

“Shouldn’t the strongest be the first?”

“So it’s not really about caring…”

It’s just that he’s walked in front of too many people, being a protective wall has become too much of a given.

Now seeing someone naturally coming to “protect” him.

Do you care?

…

Maybe a little.