But his gaze was not entirely fixed on those three.
Out of the corner of his eye, he scanned both sides of the street.
Those peeking out from behind shop curtains, those hiding behind trash cans, those being dragged away by their parents but still looking back again and again.
And those who had simply collapsed on the ground, unable to move-there were far too many.
"What a pain..."
He drew his gaze away from those people and returned it to the three Cursed Spirits across from him.
The lazy curve of his lips remained unchanged, but for an instant, the way his eyes focused behind his sunglasses shifted.
"If a fight breaks out here, a lot of people will die."
Worse still.
They might slaughter the surrounding civilians before retreating to buy themselves time to escape.
Jogo's brief burst of uncontrolled flames had already burned dozens of people to death. If all three attacked at once...
Satoru Gojo's fingers moved slightly inside his pocket, then went still again.
He had never found the word "protection" so troublesome before.
"Aaah..."
"If only Wangchuan were here."
The thought flashed through his mind.
If Wangchuan were present, he would not have to consider these problems at all.
That guy had countless ways to pin down these three Cursed Spirits without harming civilians.
Then all he would need to do was attack.
But Wangchuan was not here.
He was over in Kyoto, probably with Utahime.
Satoru Gojo's lips curved slightly, and then he shook off the thought.
Across the street.
Jogo stared at the smile still plastered on Satoru Gojo's face, growing angrier the longer he looked.
That smile.
That expression, with both hands in his pockets, as though he were looking at some boring scenery.
Jogo could not take in Hanami's attempts