Memories! Major news!

Inside the restaurant, by the window.

The grilled fish set and simmered fish set were brought over and laid out. Wangchuan picked up his chopsticks, unwrapped the disposable wooden pair, and put a piece of grilled mackerel into his mouth, chewing twice.

The surface of the fish was lightly charred and crisp. The fragrance of its fat melted across his tongue, and he narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.

Utahime Iori sat across from him, also holding a pair of chopsticks, but she was in no hurry to start on the set meal before her.

She tilted her head as she watched Wangchuan.

"Chuan."

"Hmm?" Wangchuan picked up another piece of fish.

"Tell me, why are you so obsessed with making money?" Utahime rested her chin on the back of her hand, her tone genuinely curious.

"I can understand a money-grubber like Mei Mei."

"That's just her personality, after all. She can't sleep if there's money she could be making."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze wandering over Wangchuan's face.

"But you don't strike me as the same kind of money-grubber as Mei Mei."

Wangchuan paused in the middle of picking up some fish.

He looked at Utahime Iori's face.

Afternoon sunlight slanted in through the window, casting a soft outline along the edge of the faint old scar above her left cheekbone.

Her eyes were bright, her irises a deep brown. Right now, she was looking at him with complete seriousness, neither evasive nor probing.

He suddenly remembered something from long ago.

Back when he had first crossed over.

The instant the system finished binding to him, Tso Lan's knowledge had flooded his consciousness like water bursting through a dam.

Memories that weren't his, knowledge that wasn't his, rules that didn't belong to this world-all of it had crammed into a brain that hadn't yet had time to adjust.

His vision went black, and he collapsed right outside Jujutsu High's entrance.

His consciousness drifted between confusion and clarity for a long time.

He vaguely heard footsteps running toward him and someone's voice ringing out urgently above his head.

"Hey! What's wrong?"

"Did you pass out from hunger?"

The voice was clear and bright, carrying a panic its owner wasn't very good at hiding.

With effort, he cracked his eyes open and saw a young face leaning close to his, backlit by the corridor lights. Long black hair fell down and brushed his forehead, and her eyes were wide.

Then another, languid voice drifted over from behind her.

"Move, move. Let me."

Satoru Gojo crouched down, pried his mouth open, and stuffed something inside.

"Dessert cures everything!"

He nearly choked to death on that cloyingly sweet wagashi.

Beside him, Shoko Ieiri spoke with a helpless sigh. "...What did you feed him?"

"Kikufuku! From that long-established shop near Jujutsu High."

"He needs water, not Kikufuku!"

Then Utahime's voice rang out again, tinged with anger.

"Hey! Satoru Gojo! Move! His face is turning purple!"

...That noisy, chaotic memory flashed through his mind, and Wangchuan couldn't help smiling.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong with you?"

Seeing him staring blankly at her face, his chopsticks suspended motionless in midair, Utahime Iori waved her other hand in front of him.

"Chuan?"

Wangchuan came back to himself.

He looked at the face before him, overlapping with that younger face from several years ago.

Aside from losing a little baby fat and becoming somewhat more composed, she had hardly changed.

Those eyes still looked at him just as earnestly, filled with undisguised concern.

He set down his chopsticks, the corners of his mouth lifting into the faintest of smiles.

"It's nothing."

He reached out, his fingertips lightly touching the edge of the old scar above Utahime's left cheekbone.

The scar was a little paler than the surrounding skin, like a fine line accidentally drawn across her face.

"Huh?!"

His sudden movement caught Utahime completely off guard.

Her shoulders tensed slightly, and she froze in place as though rooted there.

Wangchuan's fingertips felt faintly warm as they traced very lightly around the edge of the scar.

"Utahime."

"Hm... hmm?"

Her voice suddenly became a little unnatural, as though something had caught in her throat.

The tips of her ears reddened visibly, the color spreading from her earlobes all the way to their outer edges.

"Have you ever thought about..."

Wangchuan withdrew his hand, his gaze resting on the scar on her face, his tone casual.

"...getting rid of your scar?"

Utahime Iori froze.

She blinked, her lips parting slightly before closing again. Several seconds passed before she seemed to regain the ability to speak.

"...W-what did you say?"

Wangchuan smiled at the rare sight of her losing her composure.

He reached out, curled his index finger, and flicked her forehead, neither lightly nor hard.

"Ow!"

Utahime covered her forehead and glared at him.

But something in her eyes had changed from before, an added fluster as though he had suddenly touched a tender spot.

"Idiot!"

She cursed at him, though her voice was much softer than usual.

"I-I don't care about that..."

She lowered her head, picked up her chopsticks, and stirred the rice in her bowl as though trying to hide something.

But a few seconds later, she looked up again, cast a quick glance at Wangchuan, then looked away.

"You..."

"...Can you really get rid of it?"

"How?"

Wangchuan picked up his teacup and took a sip. Looking at the woman across from him, who was trying hard to seem unconcerned, he spoke unhurriedly.

"I told you ages ago."

"I can use magic."

Utahime opened her mouth.

She wanted to argue that there was no such thing as magic in this world, but the words caught on her lips.

Wangchuan had indeed said similar things to her, more than once.

Sometimes in a joking tone, sometimes with an expression that was half-serious, half-joking.

She had always taken it as some excuse he used to brush off questions.

But looking at Wangchuan's expression now-lazy and smiling, yet somehow seeming perfectly serious-she suddenly wasn't sure anymore.

"...Seriously?"

Wangchuan shrugged without answering directly.

He merely set his teacup back on the table, picked up another piece of grilled fish with his chopsticks, chewed and swallowed, then spoke casually.

"Seriously!"

"If you don't want to right now..."

"We can talk about it another time."

Utahime stared at him for several seconds, as though weighing how much his words were worth.

Eventually, she lowered her eyes, picked up her chopsticks, and prodded the grilled fish in her bowl, mumbling softly.

"...All right."

She paused, then looked up at him again as though something had occurred to her.

"Oh, right. How come you suddenly had time to visit Kyoto?"

Wangchuan took a bite of rice, chewed and swallowed, then looked up at her with a perfectly calm expression, as though stating a trivial matter of course.

"To see you."

Utahime Iori's hand stopped in midair, still holding her bowl.

The redness that had only just begun to fade from the tips of her ears flared up again. This time, it spread farther, even tinting her cheeks a faint pink.

"..."

She opened her mouth.

But the words turned over in her throat and ultimately became nothing more than a low, slightly awkward mumble.

"...Smooth talker."

Wangchuan chuckled and didn't pursue the subject.

He lowered his head and concentrated on his set meal, turning the grilled fish over with his chopsticks and lifting a piece of tender white flesh into his mouth.

Utahime Iori also lowered her head to eat, but her gaze still couldn't help drifting across the table, again and again.

Then she hastily pulled it back, scooping up a large mouthful of rice and stuffing it into her mouth, as though using food to conceal something.

Across the street.

Aoi Todo and Mai Zenin were still crouching behind that billboard.

Aoi Todo gripped the edges of the billboard with both hands, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the restaurant window. His mouth hung wide open and hadn't closed for quite some time.

"Mai."

"Yeah."

"Did I just see..."

"Yeah."

"Ms. Utahime blush?!"

"Yeah."

Aoi Todo whipped his head around to look at Mai, his expression having evolved from shock to the level of having his worldview shaken.

His mouth hung open, as though he wanted to say something but didn't know where to begin, his finger pointing repeatedly toward the restaurant.

"Th-that guy, that man, h-he touched Ms. Utahime's face?"

"Yeah."

"And Ms. Utahime didn't throw him out?"

"No."

Slowly and solemnly, Aoi Todo settled back onto the ground, leaning against the wall and gazing up at the sky, his face wearing the solemnity of someone who had undergone some momentous baptism.

"...Ms. Utahime Iori."

"Yeah."

"So she can make that kind of face too."

Mai crouched beside him without replying.

She watched the two figures faintly visible through the restaurant window across the street, but the corners of her mouth curved upward in a slight, barely noticeable smile.

Aoi Todo suddenly sprang up from the ground and slapped Mai's shoulder so hard she nearly toppled forward.

"I've decided!"

"What?"

"When the Goodwill Event comes around, I'm going to introduce myself to that man!"

"Are you crazy? He's Ms. Utahime's friend!"

"Anyone who can win Ms. Utahime over..." Aoi Todo folded his arms, his expression solemn.

"...has to be strong!"

"...Is that your only criterion?"

"Strong people should be friends with other strong people!"

Mai held her shoulder, aching from his slap, and let out a deep, long sigh.

"...Forget it. I give up trying to communicate with you."

She stood, brushed the dust from her skirt, and turned to walk back the way they had come.

Aoi Todo hurried after her, starting to chatter again. "Should we go back and tell Kamo, Nishimiya, and the others? This is major news."

"If our teacher finds out... we're going to die, aren't we?"