Concern

Time flowed like a stream, and before they knew it, it was early March.

Tiny buds had formed on the cherry trees in Jujutsu High's courtyard, trembling slightly in the lingering spring chill, as though gathering strength to bloom.

Madara had made considerable progress over the past month or so.

His control over cursed energy had grown more precise. He could now coat his entire body evenly without wasting the slightest amount.

As for taijutsu, under Maki's merciless "guidance," his reaction speed and close-combat skills had improved by leaps and bounds.

Although he was still far from Maki's level of rivaling jujutsu sorcerers with a mortal body, at least he no longer took beatings without being able to fight back.

As for cursed techniques, he had "grasped" Simple Domain and Extension.

Rather than grasping them, it was more that skills already present in the memories flooding into him had manifested again in this world through cursed energy.

"This much doesn't count as a real domain yet," Satoru Gojo had said once while watching him practice, leaning against a tree beside the Training Ground and eating Kikufuku.

"But it's good enough for emergencies. As for Extension... hmm, passable."

Madara hadn't argued.

He knew he was still far from a true Domain Expansion. He hadn't even found the door, so to speak.

As for Reverse Cursed Technique-that advanced skill that converted negative cursed energy into positive healing energy-he couldn't even understand the principles behind it.

But something else concerned him more.

"Why can't I learn it?" he asked Maki after one training session.

The sun had been setting, and they were resting on a bench beside the Training Ground.

Maki was wiping away her sweat with a towel. She glanced at him. "Learn what?"

"Reverse Cursed Technique. And... a domain." Madara spoke calmly, but Maki heard the confusion in his words.

Maki was silent for a while before draping the towel over her shoulder. "Reverse Cursed Technique requires extremely precise manipulation of cursed energy, as well as an understanding of its nature. In all of Jujutsu Society, Miss Ieiri is the only person who can heal others with Reverse Cursed Technique. As for domains..."

She looked toward the sunset clouds on the distant horizon, her tone somewhat complicated. "That's the pinnacle of jujutsu. You manifest your own cursed technique, your own inner world, creating a territory where you have an absolute home advantage. It takes more than talent and cursed energy reserves. You also need an absolute understanding of your own cursed technique, and... a certain resolve."

"Resolve?"

"Yeah." Maki stood and picked up the Naginata. "Figure out what you're fighting for, what your cursed technique represents, and what kind of person you are. Once you figure that out, perhaps you'll reach the threshold of a domain."

With that, she went back to training, leaving Madara sitting alone on the bench, watching the sun gradually sink behind the mountains.

Resolve...

He recalled the world-shattering ninjutsu in Madara Uchiha's memories, those battlefields of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, those ideals so obsessive they bordered on madness.

Did those count as resolve?

He didn't know.

But he knew he was changing.

When he first came to this world, he had been like an outsider, like an actor playing a role.

But now, he would share a piece of fried chicken with Panda, and try to decipher Inumaki's rice-ball language, only to make a fool of himself.

He would quietly leave an extra bottle of water when Maki did additional training, and listen to Okkotsu's experiences when he returned from missions abroad.

A sense of belonging.

The phrase was unfamiliar, but he truly felt it.

Just like now: he had finished his afternoon training and was about to return to the Dormitory for a shower when he saw Panda and Inumaki crouched at the end of the corridor, furtively doing who knew what.

"What are you two doing?" Madara walked over.

Panda jumped, nearly dropping what he was holding.

Inumaki, however, remained composed and hid the item a little farther behind him. "Bonito flakes."

"Maki's looking for her training log," Madara said. "She said she lent it to you yesterday."

Panda and Inumaki exchanged a glance, guilty expressions appearing on both their faces.

"Well... actually..." Panda scratched his head. "I accidentally got it wet. We're drying it out..."

Madara glanced behind them-the training log lay open on the windowsill, weighed down with several books. The pages were still wet, and the ink had blurred somewhat.

"She'll kill you when she finds out," Madara said sincerely.

"That's why we're trying to fix it!" Panda lowered his voice. "Inumaki said he could use Cursed Speech to fix the writing in place, but it'll take some time..."

"Salmon." Inumaki nodded solemnly.

Madara sighed. "How long?"

"About... half an hour?"

"I'll stall her." Madara turned to leave. "I'll say you went to the mountain behind the school for special training and will be back before dinner."

"Madara, you're an angel!" Panda was so moved that he nearly threw himself at him.

"Pollock roe!" Inumaki gave him a thumbs-up too.

Madara waved and headed toward the Training Ground Maki frequented.

Sunlight streamed through the corridor windows, casting warm patches of light on the floor.

Meanwhile, two men sat across from each other at a window table in a Tokyo café.

Kento Nanami looked at Satoru Gojo, who was cheerfully digging into a parfait across from him, and adjusted his glasses. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Satoru Gojo stuffed a large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and spoke indistinctly.

"How could you say that, Nanami? We just happened to run into each other and decided to have a meal together~"

"We didn't happen to run into each other." Nanami was expressionless. "You insisted on following me. Besides, I only ordered coffee, and you ordered a parfait. That doesn't qualify as 'having a meal together.'"

"Don't sweat the details~" Satoru Gojo waved a hand and scooped up another spoonful. "Anyway, this place makes a really good parfait. Want one?"

"No." Nanami took a sip of coffee. "Get to the point. You didn't come looking for me just to eat a parfait."

Satoru Gojo set down his spoon and leaned forward. Though he wore sunglasses, Nanami could feel the seriousness of his gaze.

"It's actually about one of our juniors," Satoru Gojo said. "Madara Uchiha. You've met him, right?"

Nanami thought back. He had indeed worked on a mission with that black-haired boy a month ago.

A Grade 2 Cursed Spirit had occupied an abandoned factory, specializing in concealment and surprise attacks.

The mission itself hadn't been difficult, but the boy's performance had left a deep impression.

"Yes," Nanami said. "I went on a mission with him a month ago."

"What did you think?"

Nanami fell silent for a few seconds, sorting through his memories of that time.

Clean, efficient movements without unnecessary flourishes, precise cursed energy control, and proficient use of his cursed technique.

Sharp combat instincts that allowed him to determine the best course of action in an instant.

Most importantly-he had a steady mentality.

He hadn't panicked when faced with the cursed spirit's attacks or become complacent after completing the mission. It had been as though he were doing something perfectly natural.

"He's very strong," Nanami finally said. "Though he still lacks experience, his fundamentals and talent are both outstanding. If his development goes smoothly, he'll probably be on Okkotsu's level."

"Right? Right~" Satoru Gojo returned to his lighthearted tone.

"I think so too. But even so, he's still only a Grade 2 Jujutsu Sorcerer. The Grade 1 Application I recommended was rejected again, on the grounds of 'insufficient field experience' and 'requiring a longer observation period'-the Higher-Ups really are a bunch of idiots."

Nanami said nothing. He had long since grown accustomed to the way Jujutsu Society's Higher-Ups operated.

"Come to think of it, you recommended Madara for Grade 2, didn't you?" Satoru Gojo suddenly asked.

"Yes." Nanami admitted it readily. "Both his inner character and his strength far surpass those of his peers. He's calm, disciplined, clear about his goals, and... has certain lines he won't cross. So I recommended him."

"Oh, I'm sure Madara would be delighted to have your approval, Nanami~" Satoru Gojo scooped up another spoonful of parfait, but some of the amusement faded from his voice.

"But I'm still a little worried."

"About what?"

Satoru Gojo put down his spoon and folded his hands on the table. It was an unusual gesture, and Nanami realized he was serious.

"Madara's growing too quickly," Satoru Gojo said, his voice lowering slightly. "His mastery of his cursed technique, his cursed energy control, his accumulated combat experience-he's improving at an astonishing rate in every area. Okkotsu grew quickly too, but he had Rika as a 'cheat.' Madara's different. Everything he has comes from within himself."

Nanami listened quietly.

"People who grow too quickly often run into a problem." Satoru Gojo looked out the window at the streams of traffic.

"They get used to things going smoothly, to being strong, to solving problems. But the world of jujutsu sorcerers isn't a game. Someday, they'll encounter something strength can't solve, someone they can't save no matter what they do. They'll hit a wall called 'reality.'"

He paused, pressing his lips into a straight line.

"I'm afraid he'll suffer a setback and head down a path of no return. Just like him."

Both knew perfectly well who "him" referred to.

Suguru Geto.

Satoru Gojo's former best friend, the Special Grade Curse User who had strayed down the wrong path and ultimately died at his best friend's hands.

Kento Nanami was silent for a long time.

His coffee had gone cold, but he didn't drink it. He merely looked at the dark brown liquid in his cup.

"I don't have a good solution," he finally said calmly. "People like him-talented, determined, with ideals of their own-will pursue the realization of those ideals without hesitation once they've chosen a direction. There are only two things we can do: hold him back before he goes astray, or stop him afterward."

"But we can't stop him, can we?" Satoru Gojo smiled, a trace of bitterness in his expression. "Back then... I couldn't stop Geto."

Nanami didn't answer. Some things didn't need to be said.

Silence settled between them.

Soft jazz flowed through the café, the customers around them spoke quietly, and sunlight streamed through the glass, casting bright patches on the tabletop.

Everything was peaceful and ordinary.

But beneath that peace lay the eternal shadows of the jujutsu sorcerer's profession: death, madness, betrayal, and loss.

"Hey, Nanami," Satoru Gojo suddenly returned to his lighthearted tone, as though their heavy conversation had never happened.

"Got any good ideas? Some secret to guiding juniors, maybe~"

Nanami looked at him for two seconds, then picked up his coffee and drained it.

"No," he said, standing. "I have a mission this afternoon. I'm leaving. You're paying."

"What? Come on!" Satoru Gojo protested, but Nanami had already picked up his coat and headed for the door.

At the entrance, Nanami stopped and glanced back at Satoru Gojo, who was still sitting there digging into his parfait.

"Gojo," he said.

"Hmm?"

"That boy... Madara Uchiha. He's different from Geto." Nanami spoke slowly, each word clear.

"His eyes don't have that same crazed emptiness. So, at least for now, there's no need to worry."

Satoru Gojo froze for a moment, then smiled. This time, it was genuine.

"Really? Then I can relax a little~"

Nanami nodded, pushed the door open, and left.

Satoru Gojo sat watching Nanami disappear around the street corner, then glanced at the unfinished parfait on the table.

He picked up his spoon and slowly scooped at it, but his movements were no longer as lighthearted as before.

After a while, he took out his phone and dialed a number.

"Hello~ Is that you, Principal? About Madara's Grade 1 assessment... yes, help me chase it up again. What? Those old men are making excuses again? Tch, then tell them I'll vouch for him as a Special Grade Sorcerer... yeah, good. That's all."

After hanging up, he looked out the window, his azure eyes narrowing slightly behind his sunglasses.

"Don't disappoint me, Madara."

He spoke quietly, then rose, left several bills on the table, and walked out of the café.

Meanwhile, Kento Nanami, who was already far away, looked up at the sky while waiting at a traffic light.

The March sky was blue, the clouds thin, and the sunlight warm.

But what came to mind was the way the black-haired boy had crouched down to close a victim's eyes after exorcising the cursed spirit in that abandoned factory a month ago.

The gesture had been gentle and calm, without excessive emotion, but without indifference either.

As though saying, Rest in peace. I've avenged you.

Then the boy had stood, looked at him, and said, "Mr. Nanami, the mission is complete. Do we write the report next?"

So matter-of-fact, so calm.

To think a boy of around fifteen could be like that.

Nanami lowered his gaze. The light turned green, and he crossed the road with the crowd.

"Being a jujutsu sorcerer is shit."

He spoke quietly, not knowing whom he was saying it to.