Undercurrents

By late October, life at Jujutsu High had returned to a semblance of peace.

Yu Haibara appeared on the field at five sharp every morning to train in cursed energy control with Suguru Geto. He improved quickly, going from barely sustaining it for ten minutes to managing three consecutive attempts, then keeping his cursed energy sphere stable while moving. Geto began teaching him more complex techniques, such as shaping cursed energy into different forms and maintaining his agility while releasing it.

Kento Nanami came sometimes, too. He said nothing, simply standing beside the track with his arms crossed, watching. Geto noticed that whenever Haibara successfully completed a move, the corners of Nanami's mouth lifted slightly, as though in relief.

Satoru Gojo did not join their training. He merely glanced over from a distance when he passed the field in the morning, adjusted his sunglasses, and continued on his way. But Geto knew he was watching.

Including every pulse of the thing inside Geto's body.

On October 20, Geto received a new assignment.

The location was a city called Ichihara, in Chiba Prefecture. The assignment: a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit had taken up residence in an abandoned chemical plant and had already killed six people. The Jujutsu Association classified it as Grade 1 and assigned Special Grade Sorcerer Suguru Geto to deal with it.

This was the first time since the Zama assignment that Geto would face a cursed spirit of Grade 1 or higher.

The night before his departure, Gojo knocked on his door.

"I'm going with you tomorrow." Gojo leaned against the doorframe. His tone made it an announcement, not a suggestion.

"No need," Geto said. "It's only Grade 1. I can handle it alone."

"I know you can handle it." Gojo removed his sunglasses and looked at him with those azure eyes. "I'm not going to help you deal with the cursed spirit."

"Then why are you going?"

"To watch you," Gojo said, as casually as if he were commenting on the pleasant weather. "That thing inside you has been growing a little fast lately."

Geto fell silent.

He knew Gojo was right. Over the past two weeks, the residue that resembled a shattered mirror had begun growing noticeably faster. It no longer lay quietly curled in the depths of his core. Instead, it had begun actively, slowly reaching outward in search of nourishment.

And the nourishment it found was the cursed energy that flooded his body every time he swallowed a Cursed Spirit Orb.

With every orb he swallowed, every spirit he subdued, that thing absorbed a portion of the cursed energy to nourish itself. It was like a fetus parasitizing Geto's body.

"How much has it grown?" Geto asked.

Gojo did not answer immediately. He entered the room, sat in the chair, and folded his hands over his knees.

"When we got back from Zama, it was like a seed," Gojo said. "About the size of your little fingernail."

"And now?"

"Now..." Gojo paused. "It's like an egg. And it's moving."

Geto's heart skipped a beat.

"Moving?"

"Rhythmic pulses." Gojo's voice was low and level, but Geto heard what lay beneath that calm. "Like a heartbeat."

The room was silent for a few seconds.

Geto sat on the bed with his hands on his knees, his head bowed as he stared at them. Those hands were clean, young, unscarred. But they were slowly, irreversibly becoming a vessel for something else.

"Satoru," he said, "what will happen if it keeps growing?"

Gojo did not answer.

"You don't know," Geto answered for him.

"I don't know." Gojo seemed to read his mind. "But I'm going with you to Ichihara tomorrow. Not because I think you can't beat that Grade 1 Cursed Spirit, but because I want to see how the thing inside you reacts when you swallow a new Cursed Spirit Orb."

Geto looked at him and nodded.

"All right," he said.

October 21, five in the morning.

Geto and Gojo stood at Jujutsu High's front gate, waiting for the Assistant Supervisor's car.

Gojo wore his black jacket and sunglasses, his hands tucked into his pants pockets, his posture loose.

The car arrived. The driver was not the young Yamada from last time, but a middle-aged man in his forties, his face bearing the unruffled calm of someone who had seen it all.

"Mr. Geto, Mr. Gojo." He gave a slight nod. "Please get in."

The car left Jujutsu High and entered the highway to Chiba Prefecture.

Gojo sat in the back seat, unusually quiet. He did not speak, hum, or complain. He simply leaned back, his eyes half-closed behind his sunglasses, as though lost in thought.

Geto was silent as well.

The abandoned chemical plant in Ichihara stood in the city's industrial district, surrounded by barren lots strewn with rusty pipes, broken chunks of concrete, and chemical waste. A pungent odor hung in the air.

The plant's main building was a four-story reinforced concrete structure. A wire fence surrounded the entire site, and a faded sign hung on the front gate: "No entry."

Standing outside the fence, Geto released over a dozen low-grade cursed spirits and sent them inside the building to scout.

Their findings came back quickly.

The cursed spirit was in the hall on the east side of the fourth floor. Its cursed energy fluctuations were powerful but unstable, consistent with a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit, and an indefinable sense of oppression hung over the surrounding area.

"Feel that?" Gojo stood beside him, looking at the building through his sunglasses.

"I do," Geto said. "It's waiting for us."

"Not 'us.'" Gojo shook his head. "It's waiting for you. It sensed that thing inside you."

Geto turned to look at him.

"Are you sure?"

Gojo adjusted his sunglasses. "My Six Eyes tell me that cursed spirit is more interested in you than anything else."

Geto was silent for a few seconds, then stepped forward.

He passed through a hole in the wire fence and entered the plant grounds. Gojo followed, their footsteps echoing across the empty site.

Before entering the building, Geto stopped.

"Satoru," he said, "if anything happens to me..."

"Nothing will happen to you," Gojo interrupted.

"But what if?"

"There is no what if." Gojo came up beside him and stood shoulder to shoulder with him. "I'll blast that cursed spirit to pieces before anything happens to you."

Geto looked at him, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Let's go," he said.

They entered the building.

Geto could feel it.

Right inside. In the darkness.

It had not hidden itself. A Grade 1 Cursed Spirit had no need to hide. Its cursed energy poured through the doorway like a tide, carrying pure, undisguised malice.

Geto took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The hall was vast, at least several hundred square meters. It might once have been some sort of workshop or warehouse, but now only an empty expanse of darkness remained. Things lay scattered across the floor: broken machine parts, rusted metal frames, and things Geto did not want to identify.

The cursed spirit stood in the very center.

Its form was not roiling mist like the Special Grade in Zama, nor flowing light like the Grade 2 in Tokorozawa. It looked more like a tree. An enormous, pitch-black, leafless tree. Its trunk stretched from the floor toward the ceiling, countless branches reaching in every direction. The trunk's surface was not bark, but something like countless distorted human faces, constantly shifting.

"What the hell is that thing?" Gojo's voice came from behind him, carrying a rare note of seriousness.

Geto did not answer. He was observing it.

At the tree's base, rootlike tendrils burrowed into the floor and spread outward. Geto could sense them. Their reach was not merely physical, but extended through cursed energy as well. Like drinking straws, they sucked up the land's cursed energy and the negative emotions lingering in the factory.

This was a cursed spirit still growing.

It had not fully matured, but it was close. Left alone, it would evolve into a Special Grade within a few months. For now, it was Grade 1-a dangerous Grade 1 approaching the threshold.

Geto extended his hand and summoned three cursed spirits from the shadows. Two Grade 2s and one Semi-Grade 1. They appeared before him and assumed combat stances.

The tree-shaped cursed spirit moved.

Black, viscous liquid gushed from its trunk, from those countless twisted faces. It seemed like concentrated negative emotion, all humanity's darkest feelings compressed into physical substance.

The liquid surged toward Geto like a flood.

Geto did not retreat.

He directed the three cursed spirits to meet it. The two Grade 2 Cursed Spirits blocked the liquid's frontal assault, while the Semi-Grade 1 Cursed Spirit circled around the flank and attacked the trunk from behind.

The Semi-Grade 1 Cursed Spirit's attack struck the trunk, tearing open a gash. More liquid poured from the wound, but this time it was red as blood.

The cursed spirit made a sound.

It sounded like countless people screaming at once. The sound echoed through the hall, making the rubble on the floor jump.

Geto covered his ears, but the sound pierced straight into his mind through cursed energy, through consciousness.

He saw an image.

Not the future, not the past, but the present-the depths of the cursed spirit's consciousness. Countless points of light floated in that space. Each was a memory it had devoured. Those missing people, those dead people-the cursed spirit had preserved their final moments, making them part of itself.

Geto saw their faces.

Men, women, the old, the young. Their faces were filled with terror and despair. They struggled in the darkness, screaming and weeping, then fell silent, becoming part of those countless distorted faces.

Geto's stomach churned.

Not from disgust, but from rage.

Pure, undisguised rage rose from his chest. He hated this cursed spirit. Hated its existence, hated its cruelty, hated how it had devoured so many innocent lives. He wanted to destroy it, to erase it from the world completely.

He extended his hand.

[Cursed Spirit Manipulation].

His cursed energy surged from his palm, spreading over the cursed spirit like a net. But this was not an opponent he could easily suppress. It was Grade 1, a Grade 1 nearing Special Grade. Its cursed energy was far stronger than Geto had anticipated.

The net settled over the trunk, but did not compress it. The cursed spirit resisted. Its cursed energy collided with Geto's in the air, producing a harsh squeal like two pieces of metal scraping together.

Geto clenched his teeth and poured more cursed energy into the net.

Not enough.

Still not enough.

He needed more power.

Deep within his core, that thing sensed his need. It pulsed once, then began releasing energy into Geto's cursed energy.

Geto felt his body changing.

His cursed energy surged in that instant. The net enveloping the cursed spirit abruptly tightened and began to compress.

The cursed spirit struggled. Its trunk trembled, its distorted faces screamed, and black liquid sprayed everywhere. But it was useless. Geto's cursed energy was too powerful.

Compression.

Condensation.

Distortion.

A Grade 1 Cursed Spirit was compressed into a black sphere. It fell to the floor, rolled twice, and stopped beside Geto's feet.

A Cursed Spirit Orb.

Geto bent down, picked it up, and examined it. Black and perfectly round, its surface covered in fine patterns. This sphere was larger and heavier than a Grade 2 orb.

He brought it to his mouth.

And swallowed it.

The taste was stronger than ever before. Nausea rose like a tide. He doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees, on the verge of vomiting.

But he forcibly suppressed the nausea and swallowed the Cursed Spirit Orb into his stomach. Cursed energy spread from there, merging with his core. The Grade 1 Cursed Spirit's consciousness sank into the depths of his own, becoming part of him.

It struggled. It resisted. Deep within his consciousness, the Grade 1 Cursed Spirit thrashed against its cage like a trapped beast. Geto could feel its anger and fear.

Yes, fear.

A cursed spirit was afraid.

Geto closed his eyes and used his consciousness to suppress it, forcing it into the depths of the darkness. It struggled a few more times, then fell quiet.

It was waiting for an opportunity.

Geto opened his eyes and straightened. His body trembled faintly, and sweat covered his forehead. His cursed energy core was shaking violently.

"Geto."

Gojo's voice came from behind him. Geto turned and saw him standing there, his sunglasses already off, those azure Six Eyes fixed directly on him.

"Did you see it?" Geto asked.

"I did." Gojo's voice was low. "That thing inside you grew when you swallowed the Cursed Spirit Orb."

"How much?"

Gojo was silent for a few seconds.

"It doubled."

Geto's heart plummeted.

Doubled. From the size of an egg to the size of a fist. In less than a minute, it had absorbed the cursed energy of a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit and doubled in size.

"Satoru," Geto said, his voice calm, "it's feeding."

"I know."

"It's feeding on every cursed spirit I swallow."

"I know."

"If it keeps growing..."

"I know." Gojo interrupted him, walked over, and stood before him. Those azure eyes gazed at him from so close that Geto could see his own reflection in them.

A seventeen-year-old boy with black hair and black eyes, his uniform covered in dust and blood.

"I won't let it devour you," Gojo said, enunciating every word.

Geto looked at him, wanting to say something, but no sound would come from his throat. He merely nodded, then turned and walked out of the dark hall.

As he emerged from the building, the sunlight made him squint.

The late-October sun was no longer fierce, but after so long in the darkness, it still seemed especially blinding. Geto stood at the factory entrance and tilted his head back, letting the sunlight fall on his face. Little by little, its warmth dispelled the chill inside him.

Gojo came to stand beside him without a word.

They simply stood there in the sunlight. The Assistant Supervisor's car was parked by the distant roadside, its driver leaning against the door, waiting patiently.

"Geto," Gojo suddenly said, "do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Going to Zama. Saving Haibara." Gojo's voice was soft. "If that hadn't happened, that Special Grade Cursed Spirit wouldn't have corrupted you. That thing wouldn't be inside you."

Geto was silent for a few seconds.

Then he smiled.

"No regrets," he said. "Haibara is alive. That's enough."

Gojo looked at him for a long time.

Then he smiled, too.

That smile was different from Suguru Geto's-a bold smile, bright as the sun.

"All right," Satoru Gojo said. "Then no regrets."

He turned and strode toward the car.

"Let's go! I'm starving! Let's head back for curry!"

Suguru Geto watched him walk away, then took a step and followed.

The car left Ichihara and headed back to Jujutsu High.

For once, Satoru Gojo stayed silent the whole way. He simply leaned back in the rear seat, his eyes closed behind his sunglasses, lightly tapping the armrest with his hand-once, twice, three times-as though calculating something.