Echo

During the third week of his suspension, Suguru Geto found something else connected to Nakajima in the old library.

It was an untitled journal with a black leather cover, its corners worn pale. It had been wedged between two jujutsu yearbooks from the Showa era. If the egg hadn't twitched at just the right moment, Suguru Geto would never have noticed it. He had been about to return a yearbook to the shelf when the egg suddenly moved. His hand slipped, the yearbook fell to the floor, and the journal slid out from the gap.

He picked up the journal and opened it to the first page. The first line was a date: January, Showa 42. The second was a name: Ichiro Nakajima.

Suguru Geto read the entire journal beneath a tree on the hill behind the school. It took about two hours, from dawn until the sun was overhead. The snow had stopped, and so had the wind. The whole world was as quiet as if someone had pressed pause.

The first half of the journal consisted of observations of the foreign object. Nakajima had written in meticulous detail, making an entry every day, from when the object first appeared, "the size of a pinhead," to three months later, "the size of a fingertip." He recorded fluctuations in his cursed energy, changes in body temperature, sleep quality, appetite, and an indescribable "sense of something foreign." He seemed to be documenting it for those who came after him. He knew he might not have long to live, and he hoped that if he died, these records would at least help the next person who encountered the same problem.

The second half of the journal changed. Observation gave way to reflection. Nakajima began considering what the foreign object was. He ruled out cursed spirits, curses, cursed energy residue, and every known form of existence. He coined a new term for it: echo.

(From now on, it will no longer be called the egg. It will consistently be called the echo.)

An echo. Something released and left behind at the instant a cursed spirit died, which then settled in a jujutsu sorcerer's core and could not be destroyed. It was not the cursed spirit itself, but a trace of its existence. Like the lingering hum in your ears after a bell's ringing had already faded from the air. That sound was not the bell, but it was something the bell left behind. Nakajima wrote in his notes, "It isn't trying to hurt me. It just doesn't know how to exist."

When Suguru Geto reached that passage, his fingers stilled on the page. It isn't trying to hurt me. It just doesn't know how to exist. He remembered the sensation of the echo pulsing inside him.

On the last few pages, the handwriting grew messy. Not from panic, but because his hand no longer had the strength. Nakajima wrote, "I can no longer remember my mother's face. It isn't forgetfulness from old age. That thing is eating my memories. Every time it grows a little, I forget something. Small things at first: what I ate for breakfast, whom I saw yesterday. Then important things. My mother's face, my home address, how I felt on my first mission. I don't know why it eats my memories. Maybe it needs nourishment. Maybe it just wants to understand me by consuming me."

The final page held only a single line at the very bottom, the handwriting crooked, as if he had written it with the last of his strength.

"If anyone finds this journal, please tell my wife I didn't forget her on purpose."

Suguru Geto closed the journal, leaned against the tree trunk, and tipped his head back to look at the sky. The sun was behind the clouds, its light so dim he could not tell what time it was. He put the journal in his pocket alongside Nakajima's letter, the association's investigation report, and the fragmentary scroll.

Why had the egg led him to this journal? Had it been deliberate or accidental? Was it trying to tell him Nakajima's story, or to tell Suguru Geto that he wouldn't end up like Nakajima?

Suguru Geto didn't know.

On Friday, people from the association arrived.

It wasn't Yuka Matsumoto, but someone Suguru Geto had never met. A young woman of twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with short hair. She stood at the main gate of Jujutsu High, with two men in black suits behind her.

"Her name's Sasaki," Satoru Gojo said, leaning against the doorway of Suguru Geto's dorm room with a bag of chips in his hand. "She's new to the association's investigation department. Yuka Matsumoto got transferred. They sent her instead."

"Why the change?" Suguru Geto asked.

"No idea. Maybe Matsumoto's data wasn't 'optimistic' enough. Maybe the association wanted someone more obedient." Satoru Gojo spoke indistinctly around a mouthful of chips. "I looked into this Sasaki. She isn't a jujutsu sorcerer."

Suguru Geto glanced at him. "She isn't a jujutsu sorcerer?"

"Zero cursed energy. An ordinary person. But her ability to sense cursed energy is stronger than most jujutsu sorcerers'. She can feel its 'temperature' and 'weight.'" Satoru Gojo lowered his voice. "A 'Sensory' specially trained by the association. They use them against jujutsu sorcerers who won't fall in line."

"Against them?"

"A Sensory can tell whether someone's lying. Not like a lie detector. She directly senses changes in your cursed energy when you speak. When you lie, there's an extremely faint fluctuation. Ordinary instruments can't detect it, but she can feel it."

Suguru Geto said nothing. He thought of the reports he submitted every week.

That afternoon, Suguru Geto was summoned to the principal's office.

Sasaki sat opposite Masamichi Yaga, with the two men in black standing behind her. She sat very straight, her back away from the chair, her hands resting on her knees.

"Mr. Geto," Sasaki began, her voice flat and without inflection. "I'm Sasaki from the association's investigation department. I've come to Jujutsu High today to speak with you in person about your recent physical condition."

Suguru Geto sat down opposite her. "About what?"

"About what you haven't included in your weekly reports."

"Mr. Geto, every week, your report states 'stable cursed energy fluctuations,' 'normal core condition,' and 'no unusual sensations.' But the association's monitoring data shows five minor anomalous peaks in your cursed energy fluctuations over the past three weeks. The peaks were small, almost negligible, but they were there." Sasaki's voice remained flat. "Why didn't you include them in your reports?"

Suguru Geto was silent for a second. "Because I don't consider them abnormalities."

"You don't?"

"My cursed energy is changing. That's a fact. But 'change' doesn't mean 'abnormality.' Change is a process. An abnormality is a problem. My cursed energy is changing, but nothing has gone wrong. So I didn't include them."

Sasaki's fingers paused. She stared into Suguru Geto's eyes for several seconds. Then she lowered her head and wrote a few lines in a small notebook.

"Mr. Geto, the association would like you to undergo a more thorough examination. Not a routine follow-up, but a direct probe of your cursed energy core."

"A direct probe?" Masamichi Yaga said angrily. "Miss Sasaki, do you know what directly probing a cursed energy core entails?"

"Yes. It requires injecting probing cursed energy into the subject's core and using cursed energy resonance to obtain information about its interior." Sasaki's tone did not change. "The procedure will involve some pain, but it won't cause permanent damage."

"It won't cause permanent damage?" Masamichi Yaga turned to look at Sasaki. "A jujutsu sorcerer's core is their most vulnerable part. Any injection of foreign cursed energy could deform it. How can you guarantee that?"

Sasaki was silent for a second. "The association's technical department has verified its safety. It uses low-intensity probing cursed energy, which will not damage the core."

"Verified it? On whom?"

Sasaki did not answer. She turned to Suguru Geto.

"Mr. Geto, the association's recommendation is voluntary. You may choose to decline."

The office fell silent for several seconds.

"I accept," Suguru Geto said.

"Mr. Yaga, if I don't do it, they'll think I'm hiding something."

With that, Suguru Geto stood.

The examination took place in the infirmary. Shoko stood beside the bed, looking grim. A few coffee stains dotted her white coat. The device Sasaki had brought was a silvery-white metal machine the size of a small refrigerator, with several long, thin probes attached. A technician was calibrating it, green waveforms flickering across the screen.

"Lie down," Sasaki said.

Suguru Geto lay on the bed. Shoko came over and attached one probe to his chest and two to his arms. Her hands were trembling slightly.

"Shoko," Suguru Geto said quietly. "It's all right."

"It isn't," Shoko whispered. "If their probing cursed energy touches that egg, there's no telling what will happen."

Suguru Geto said nothing. He knew Shoko was right. The echo had been absorbing foreign cursed energy all along. Any cursed energy injected into his core might be absorbed by the egg.

The technician finished calibrating the machine and nodded to Sasaki. She walked to the bedside and looked down at Suguru Geto.

"Mr. Geto, once the probe begins, you may feel some pain. Please try to stay relaxed."

Suguru Geto closed his eyes. The probes began to heat up, and unfamiliar cursed energy poured from them, passing through his skin, muscles, and ribs toward his cursed energy core. It was cold, like ice water, leaving a chill everywhere it passed.

It touched the egg.

The egg gave a violent pulse. Suguru Geto's body jerked, and his hands clenched the bedsheet. The egg absorbed the probing cursed energy.

The technician frowned at the screen. "Abnormal readings. The probing cursed energy is weakening."

"What's the attenuation rate?" Sasaki asked.

"Sixty percent... seventy... eighty..."

The technician's voice grew increasingly strained. The waveform representing the probing cursed energy shrank rapidly across the screen. Then the egg released a surge of cursed energy. It rushed back along the probes' path and into the silvery-white machine. The screen flickered once, then went black. An invisible shock wave burst from the machine, throwing the technician against the wall before he slid to the floor. Sasaki took two steps back, her expression finally changing.

Shoko lunged to the bedside and pulled the probes off Suguru Geto. She moved fast, as if performing emergency treatment on a battlefield. Suguru Geto lay on the bed, gasping for breath. Deep inside his core, the echo pulsed violently, so fast it felt ready to burst. His vision blurred, and the infirmary ceiling swayed before his eyes.

"Geto!" Shoko's voice reached him from somewhere far away.

Suguru Geto wanted to say he was all right, but no sound came from his throat. His consciousness sank into darkness little by little, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a pool. Before it vanished, he heard a voice from the echo deep inside his core.

"Don't let them in."

Then he knew nothing.

When Suguru Geto woke, it was already dark.

He lay in the infirmary bed. Shoko sat beside him, holding a cup of tea that had gone cold. Dark circles lay beneath her eyes, and her lips were dry and cracked, as if she hadn't drunk any water for hours. Her expression did not change when she saw him open his eyes, but Suguru Geto noticed the hand holding her cup tremble.

"Shoko, how long was I unconscious?"

"Six hours."

Suguru Geto braced himself against the bed and sat up. His body felt heavy. Deep inside his core, the echo pulsed at its normal rhythm again, the size of two fists. But its glow had deepened, a new layer of color covering the original light.

"Where's Sasaki?"

"She left. The machine broke, and one of her people was injured. She said she had to report back to the association." Shoko's voice was flat. "Before she left, she asked me something."

"What?"

"She asked whether the egg inside you had 'consciousness.'"

Suguru Geto was silent for a few seconds. "What did you tell her?"

"I said I didn't know." Shoko put down her cup and stood. "Then she said she'd include that question in her report."

Shoko left. Suguru Geto sat alone on the bed, looking out the window. The echo had spoken. It was the first time it had communicated with him in words.

He lay down and closed his eyes. Deep inside his core, the echo pulsed, neither fast nor slow, as if waiting for him to speak.

Who are you? Suguru Geto asked silently.

There was no answer.

Why did you protect me?

Still no answer. But Suguru Geto sensed the echo's emotions, as if it were saying, Because you're mine.

Suguru Geto opened his eyes. He stared at the halo of light on the ceiling for a long time.

Outside the window, snow began to fall again.