The principal of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, Yaga Masamichi, was a burly, heavily muscled man.
From his appearance, with his sunglasses on, he looked more like a gangster.
As he walked down the white corridor filled with the smell of disinfectant, his massive body clad in a pitch-black uniform became even more conspicuous.
Yaga Masamichi arrived at a hospital room and pushed the door open, walking straight inside.
"You scared the old folks half to death."
That was the first thing Yaga Masamichi said. He stared at the hospital bed before him and at Gojo Satoru lying on it.
Gojo Satoru had both hands behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling overhead.
"What are your thoughts now?"
"My thoughts?"
Gojo Satoru turned his head and looked toward Yaga Masamichi.
"I feel guilty."
"Hm?"
"To be honest, I always thought I was the person most capable of empathizing with the loneliness of being too high up to feel the cold. I like fighting, so I never felt lonely.
"But there should be some kind of line—not one defined by humanity, but one that distinguishes us as individual living beings. Humans can cultivate flowers and make them bloom, and they can appreciate them. But they wouldn't think, 'I hope the flowers can understand me,' would they?"
"..."
Yaga Masamichi stared at Gojo Satoru. He seemed to want to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.
Gojo Satoru spread out his hands and held them before his eyes.
"I used to think I would never be able to understand how other people saw me, but now I understand. I thought she was a challenger, but it seems that wasn't the case."
Gojo Satoru let out a soft laugh.
"Monster. It wasn't the first time someone had called me that.