The bathrooms at Jujutsu High.
Steam hung in the air. Water poured from the showerhead onto Suguru Geto's shoulders and back, running down his thin body and pooling in the shallow water at his feet.
The rush of water was loud, filling the entire bathroom, but it could not reach his mind-something else had already filled it.
The Time Vessel Association worshippers stood around Riko Amanai's corpse, their hands together, smiles on their faces as they clapped again and again. The applause was quiet, yet clearer than any other sound. Once, twice, again, like someone repeatedly cutting the same piece of flesh with a dull knife. The scene replayed in his mind, over and over and over, as though someone had pressed the repeat button. He could neither stop it nor fast-forward. His eyes were closed, droplets clinging to his lashes. He could not tell whether they were water or something else.
No. I have to hold the line. Protecting non-sorcerers is a jujutsu sorcerer's duty. He had repeated those words for years, ever since his first day at Jujutsu High, until they came more readily than any incantation. They should have been as solid as a stone, anchored in the deepest part of his heart, unmoved by even the fiercest storm.
But today, that stone seemed to have cracked. The fissure was fine and shallow, invisible unless he looked closely, yet something was seeping out of it.
The water kept rushing down, striking the top of his head and streaming over his cheeks. When it passed his lips, he tasted salt.
His expression twisted little by little in the steam. First his brows slowly drew together, then his pupils shrank to pinpoints, fine red veins creeping across the whites of his eyes. Finally, his lips pressed tightly together into