Communication

Suguru Geto began trying to communicate with the echo through his consciousness. Every morning and evening, he spent twenty minutes with his eyes closed, sinking his attention into his cursed energy core.

On the first day, nothing happened. The echo simply pulsed quietly, neither fast nor slow, like a heart unaware that anyone was listening.

On the second day, nothing happened.

On the third day, Suguru Geto suddenly woke in the middle of the night. His chest felt hot. He threw back the covers and saw a faint patch of light on the skin of his chest, about the same size as the echo. It was not the silvery white it had been before, but a warmer orange, like candlelight. The patch pulsed slowly, in time with his heartbeat.

He stared at the light for a long time, then closed his eyes.

This time, he heard a voice. Not complete sentences, just a few words.

"...Cold..."

"...Hurts..."

Suguru Geto opened his eyes. The light had vanished, and his chest had returned to its normal color. He sat on his bed for a long time, listening to the wind outside. The echo sounded like a baby opening its eyes for the first time.

On Friday, Suguru Geto met Satoru Gojo in the cafeteria.

It was no chance encounter. Satoru Gojo carried his tray straight over, sat opposite him, and pushed a plate of grilled fish in front of him. It was Pacific saury, its skin charred and crisp, still steaming. The cafeteria was quiet. Haibara and Nanami sat in a corner, their heads lowered over their meals, exchanging a few words now and then.

"Geto, you haven't been sleeping at night lately," Satoru Gojo said. It was not a question.

"I have."

"You sit on your bed in the middle of the night, eyes closed, not moving. That's being awake, not sleeping."

"You've been spying on me again," Suguru Geto said helplessly.

Satoru Gojo's dorm room was next to his. The walls were thin, and Gojo's Six Eyes could see him through them. He had always known that; he had simply never made a point of guarding against it.

"I've been talking to that egg," Suguru Geto said.

Satoru Gojo paused with his chopsticks over the fish. "What does it say?"

"It says it's cold. It says it hurts. It asks why."

Satoru Gojo put the fish in his mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed. His expression did not change, but Suguru Geto noticed that he was chewing more slowly.

"Geto," Satoru Gojo said, setting down his chopsticks, "that egg is conscious."

"It is."

"It can feel cold. It can feel pain. It even asks why."

"Yes."

Satoru Gojo fell silent for a few seconds. He looked at Suguru Geto. His sunglasses concealed the expression in his eyes, but Geto could feel that his gaze was not directed at him. It was directed at the place where the egg was.

"It's inside your body," Satoru Gojo said. "You can feel what it feels. When it's cold, you're cold too. When it hurts, you hurt too."

Suguru Geto did not deny it. "Yes."

"You're looking for answers."

Suguru Geto looked at Satoru Gojo. He simply picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of fish, and put it in his mouth. The fish was cold now, its skin no longer crisp and its flesh dry. He chewed a few times and swallowed.

"Satoru," he said, "aren't you going to ask me what it is?"

Satoru Gojo leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Have you figured it out?"

"Nakajima called it an 'echo.' A trace left behind when a cursed spirit dies. Not the cursed spirit itself, but proof that it once existed."

"An echo." Satoru Gojo repeated the word as though weighing it on his tongue. "Then why does it want to stay inside you?"

Suguru Geto remembered the line in the journal. "It doesn't know how to exist. It needs somewhere to stay. My body is the place it found."

Satoru Gojo said nothing. He simply sat there with his arms folded, looking at Suguru Geto. After a long while, he reached out, took away the plate of cold saury in front of Geto, and replaced it with his own untouched plate.

"Eat this one," he said. "That one's cold."

On Monday, the Association's reply arrived.

It was addressed not to Suguru Geto, but to Masamichi Yaga. When Geto was called to the principal's office, the letter lay open on the desk. The paper was thick and bore the Jujutsu Association's red seal. Masamichi Yaga sat behind the desk.

"The Association has responded to last week's probing incident." Masamichi Yaga pushed the letter toward him. "Read it yourself."

Suguru Geto picked up the letter. It was short, only three paragraphs.

The first paragraph expressed regret over the incident during the probing procedure and stated that the Association's technical department would thoroughly inspect the equipment to determine the cause of the malfunction.

The second paragraph expressed concern over Suguru Geto's physical condition and advised him to avoid any behavior that might trigger abnormal cursed energy fluctuations during his suspension, including but not limited to intensive training, Domain Expansion, and active communication with unidentified cursed energy sources.

The third paragraph stated that the Association would dispatch a new observer to replace Sasaki within a week. The new observer's name, background, cursed technique, and other details would not be disclosed for the time being.

Suguru Geto set the letter back on the desk. "'Active communication with unidentified cursed energy sources'-they know I've been talking to the echo."

Masamichi Yaga's fingers paused. "The echo?"

"The name I gave that egg."

Masamichi Yaga looked at him for a few seconds. There was worry and hesitation in his eyes.

"Geto," he said, "the Association doesn't want you to keep communicating with that thing. They believe it will increase the uncertainty."

"What do you think, Mr. Yaga?"

Masamichi Yaga did not answer immediately. He stood, walked to the window, and turned his back to Suguru Geto.

"I think," he said, "that thing is inside your body. You have the right to know what it is."

On Thursday, the new observers arrived.

It was a team of three, two men and one woman, all wearing dark blue uniforms with Jujutsu Association badges on their chests.

Suguru Geto sat beneath a tree and watched the three of them enter the administration building.

That afternoon, Suguru Geto was called to the infirmary. Shoko had not summoned him; the Association had requested his presence. When he arrived, all three were already there. Shoko stood beside the bed, looking grim, while Masamichi Yaga stood by the window with his hands behind his back. The three visitors stood in a triangle in the middle of the room, surrounding Geto's bed.

The man leading them looked to be in his forties, with a scar running from the end of his eyebrow to his cheekbone. He did not introduce himself. He simply took a document from his briefcase and held it out to Suguru Geto.

"Mr. Geto, starting today, we will be responsible for your daily monitoring. Once each morning, afternoon, and evening, we will need to record your cursed energy fluctuations, the condition of your core, and any unusual sensations. In addition, you will need to provide a blood sample and a cursed energy sample every week."

Suguru Geto looked at the document without taking it. "I have two months left on my suspension. The Association said I couldn't leave Jujutsu High. It didn't say I had to be monitored three times a day."

The scarred man's expression did not change. "This is a new regulation. The Association believes the last probing incident exposed how little we know about your physical condition. More frequent monitoring will help us better understand your condition and prevent another accident."

"What if I refuse?"

"Mr. Geto, this is not a matter of accepting or refusing." The scarred man's voice was flat. "This is the Association's decision. As a Special Grade Sorcerer, you are obligated to cooperate with the Association's health monitoring. Refusal to cooperate will be regarded by the Association as..."

"Regarded as what?" Masamichi Yaga spoke. His voice was quiet, but everyone in the room heard him.

The scarred man turned to look at Yaga. Their gazes clashed.

"As concealing information about your own health," the scarred man said.

Masamichi Yaga walked over from the window and stood beside Suguru Geto. He looked not at the scarred man, but at the document.

"Suguru Geto is my student. His health monitoring is the responsibility of Jujutsu High's infirmary. Shoko keeps weekly records, and those records have already been submitted to the Association on schedule. You do not need to monitor him three times a day."

"Principal Yaga, this is the Association's decision."

"The Association can enforce its decisions in its own offices. Here at Jujutsu High, in my school, my students are my responsibility." Masamichi Yaga's voice remained quiet, but every word landed like a nail driven into a wall. "You may stay in Jujutsu High's guest rooms. You may review the records Shoko submits. You may attend his weekly checkups. Beyond that, leave him alone."

The scarred man stared at Masamichi Yaga for a few seconds, then withdrew the document.

"Principal Yaga, I will relay your position to the Association."

He turned and left the infirmary with the other two. The door closed behind them.

Shoko took the unlit cigarette from her mouth and let out a long breath.

"Mr. Yaga," she said, "you just defied the Association."

"I know." Masamichi Yaga took off his glasses and slowly wiped the lenses with a cleaning cloth.

"They'll make trouble for you."

"Let them."

Suguru Geto looked at Masamichi Yaga's profile. The lines on his face were deeper than they had been a few months ago, and there was more gray at his temples. It was not that he did not fear the Association. He had chosen not to be afraid.

"Mr. Yaga," Suguru Geto said, "thank you."

Masamichi Yaga put his glasses back on and glanced at Suguru Geto.

"Don't thank me. Just stay alive."

That evening, Suguru Geto reread the journal in his dorm room. Not all of it, only the last few pages. After losing the memory of his mother's face, Ichiro Nakajima had written: "I don't remember what she looked like. But I remember the warmth of her palm. In winter, she would press her hand against my face and ask, 'Are you cold?' Now I press my right hand against my left cheek, trying to imitate that warmth. But my hand is cold. I've forgotten how warm her hand was. All I remember are the words 'Are you cold?'"

Suguru Geto closed the journal and placed it beside his pillow. He turned off the light, lay down, and pressed his hand to his chest. The egg was pulsing. His palm could feel it, not coming from outside, but from within.

Echo, he said in his mind.

The egg pulsed once.

Are you listening?

It pulsed again.

Suguru Geto closed his eyes. In the darkness, the skin of his chest began to glow.

He heard a voice.

"...Yes..."

"...Listening..."

Suguru Geto's throat tightened. He did not open his eyes. He simply pressed his hand to his chest, feeling the echo pulse.

"Your name is Echo," he said. "That's the name I gave you. Is that all right?"

Silence. The echo did not answer. But its pulse quickened, taking on the rhythm of a little animal bounding through the snow. It seemed happy.

The corner of Suguru Geto's mouth twitched.

"We'll continue tomorrow," he said.

The echo's pulse slowed, returning to its usual rhythm. Neither fast nor slow, as though saying, All right.

Suguru Geto fell asleep. He did not dream.