In the conference room, the entire Jujutsu High teaching staff sat along one side of the long table.
Masamichi Yaga sat upright at the head, his expression solemn.
Satoru Gojo lounged against his chair, idly twirling a pen he had picked up from who knew where.
Atsuya Kusakabe folded his arms, Kento Nanami sat with perfect posture, and Shoko Ieiri rested with her eyes closed.
There were only three student representatives: Kinji Hakari, Yuta Okkotsu, and Toge Inumaki.
As for Kirara Hoshi, Maki Zenin, Panda, and the other third-years, none had reached the threshold of a grade 1 sorcerer, so they were waiting for news in various classrooms.
Assistant managers such as Kiyotaka Ijichi, Akari Nitta, and Takuma Ino were accompanying them at their respective locations.
Thus, Mei Mei was the only member of the assistant manager group present. She was an exception in her own right, possessing both combat strength and skill in handling intelligence.
Dio and his party occupied the other side of the long table.
Dio sat opposite Principal Yaga, his posture as straight as a statue.
Suguru Geto sat across from Satoru Gojo, his expression calm.
Along either side, Manami Sugata, Toshihisa Negi, Larue, and Miguel Oduol took their seats in turn, all quiet and composed.
As for Mimiko Hasaba and Nanako Hasaba-the two children whose transfers into the first year had been arranged-they should have been in the classroom by then.
One could only hope they would not clash with Maki and Panda right upon meeting them.
A quick glance revealed that four special grade sorcerers and eleven grade 1 sorcerers had gathered in the room.
In terms of fighting strength, this ordinary conference room now housed nearly half the finest combatants in the world's Jujutsu Society.
Before the meeting began, the group had taken a brief tour of the campus.
The surroundings were reasonably tidy, but the training equipment and facilities looked rather rudimentary. The cafeteria was small and unremarkable, like a dingy little roadside eatery, hardly befitting Jujutsu High's standing in Jujutsu Society.
"An organization that wields violence does not always need to display that violence."
Dio spoke first.
"More often, what it needs to demonstrate is its financial strength and vision.
How can an environment like this attract more outstanding students?
Principal Yaga, how much funding do the higher-ups allocate to each Jujutsu High every year?"
"Eight hundred million yen, approximately thirty-six million yuan."
Masamichi Yaga adjusted his sunglasses and answered honestly.
"After all, we have a limited number of staff and students.
Apart from me, the principal, our faculty consists of just four teachers-Satoru, Atsuya, Kento, and Shoko-along with assistant managers and freelance sorcerers permanently based in Tokyo, such as Kiyotaka Ijichi.
We currently have nine students in total. Each receives an allowance of around twenty million yen. Looking at the figures alone, that isn't a small amount."
"But as I understand it, their allowances remain relatively fixed, regardless of how many missions they complete?"
Dio leaned forward slightly and tapped a fingertip against the table.
"This is work that requires them to risk their lives, after all. Don't you think the system itself is far too slapdash?"
"...There's no denying that." Yaga fell silent for a moment. "Because we're severely understaffed, both teachers and students undertake missions very frequently. From that perspective, the mismatch between their allowances and the risks they face is an objective fact."
"In that case, I intend to come aboard with funding."
Suguru Geto picked up the thread.
"I'll invest four billion yen in my alma mater, disbursed annually over five years.
With that money, the school can improve its infrastructure, expand enrollment, and increase benefits and mission allowances for both staff and students.
At the very least, the children who come after us won't have to shed their blood in surroundings where everything is barely adequate."
"Barely adequate?" Satoru Gojo immediately raised an eyebrow, protesting in an exaggerated tone. "It's not that bad, is it? The training grounds are big enough, the cafeteria's set meals are edible, and the dorms have air conditioning. At least they're warm in winter and cool in summer-"
"Satoru."
Suguru Geto interrupted him with a smile, a hint of knowing mockery in his eyes.
"How many days do you actually spend living at the school?
When you judge whether the 'conditions' are good or bad, aren't you unconsciously forgetting to put the 'school' and 'your home' on the same scale?"
"Ah..." Satoru Gojo blinked, momentarily at a loss for words, as though a bias he had always taken for granted had suddenly been exposed.
The Gojo Clan owned properties and villas throughout Japan, and he had grown up at the very pinnacle of material privilege.
He could use Limitless to travel with something approaching teleportation, so distance and travel time meant very little to him.
Moreover, both his parents were alive, and his family relationships were healthy. In a sense, he was still a "child" spoiled by his clan and his own gifts.
Jujutsu High held his youthful memories and responsibilities, and could almost be called another "home," but it was ultimately just his workplace. The time he actually spent living there was quite limited.
Judging the objective material conditions of a school serving ordinary jujutsu sorcerers' children by a standard founded on an elite family background and absurdly powerful abilities was almost like asking why the poor didn't simply eat cake.
Naturally, such a conclusion had little general validity, and even carried a touch of unwitting arrogance.
Satoru Gojo scratched his white hair and freely admitted this small blind spot in his thinking. "I guess...you're right."
A few quiet chuckles rose around the conference room. The knowing banter between old friends eased the atmosphere a little, and the distance and unfamiliarity between them quietly began to melt away.
Then Geto began a long, candid account of his past.
From parting ways with Satoru Gojo on the streets of Shinjuku ten years earlier, to rebuilding the Time Vessel Association to harbor curses and recruit companions, to his dealings with Jujutsu Headquarters, and the "righteous cause" within him that had swelled ever larger even as it grew increasingly hollow...
He spared no detail and glossed over nothing.
He laid his ten years of wrong turns, struggles, obsession, and loneliness before his former teacher and friends, as though unfurling a bloodstained scroll painting.
"...I once stubbornly pursued a misguided vision in order to build a so-called 'paradise.'"
Suguru Geto concluded at last, his voice carrying both exhaustion and relief.
"Ironically, even now, I can't say with certainty what a 'paradise' for jujutsu sorcerers should actually look like."
He looked at Dio beside him, his eyes filled with undisguised gratitude and the relief of someone who had been saved.
"Mr. Dio knocked some sense into me, and not merely with his fists. He did it through his...entirely different way of being and attitude toward life.
And as it happens, he can copy my Cursed Spirit Manipulation. We became fellow travelers who could understand and support each other.
Satoru, you should know better than anyone how often I used to complain that 'no one knows what cursed spirits taste like.' That loneliness, having no one who could understand how I felt, nearly drove me mad.
I'm deeply grateful to have met Dio.
It made me decide to abandon that unrealistic fantasy of extermination and return to the old path-a clumsier one, but perhaps a more correct one: sealing and subduing every cursed spirit until I burn myself out."
When his long speech ended, silence filled the conference room.
Suguru Geto's gaze slowly passed over every face, familiar and unfamiliar. At last, he softly spoke words that sounded like an aphorism, both a farewell to his past and a definition of his future:
"Death is not frightening.
Death is a cool summer night, offering peaceful sleep without a care.
But living-especially living with your eyes open, bearing sins that cannot be erased and responsibilities that cannot be shirked-is like walking alone through an endless desert beneath a blazing sun.
That is what truly takes courage!"
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