Practice, endless practice, until it seeped into the bones and became instinct. Like professional athletes training day after day, all that remained was waiting, waiting for the moment when effort finally paid off. As long as one did not give up, there would always be a few shining moments in life.

  Many athletes themselves did not know how their best moments happened, only that their bodies moved on their own. “Black Flash” was that kind of state, something almost miraculous, a strike that seemed to come from nowhere.

  “Let’s go,” Kento Nanami said. “We’ll report back to Gojo first. After that, I’ll try to help you find a more concrete feeling.”

  His tone of having completed the task made Akira pause. “That’s it? What about them?”

  “They’re already dead,” Kento Nanami said.

  “Huh?” Akira remembered that no one had delivered a killing blow. Had he hit too hard while focusing on “Black Flash”? Kento Nanami shook his head.

  “Don’t look. They were killed by curses,” he said. “Some kind of Jujutsu was placed on them beforehand. Once organizational secrets were involved, they died. This matter doesn’t seem simple.”

  At the moment they tried to extract information, the Curse User’s heart split apart as soon as he opened his mouth. Right after that, the hearts of the others shattered as well. Kento Nanami spoke in a steady voice.

  “This isn’t your responsibility. I did tell you to be prepared to kill, but not to count every enemy death as your own burden. Gathering intelligence and investigating bases aren’t our jobs anyway. Doing it roughly is fine. That’s experience from adults.”

  Akira nodded and said nothing. It was not because he misunderstood Kento Nanami’s meaning or lacked that kind of practical thinking himself. He was simply surprised by his own state of mind.

  There was no anger, no fear, no lingering dread, and no guilt. Only calm remained, as if the deaths around him had nothing to do with him at all. He did not even feel that faint sympathy one might expect.

  Had he already grown used to this cruel Jujutsu world? Or was he, by nature, cold-blooded? Akira did not know the answer.

  He only murmured, “Little Sha~”

  A gentle wave of psychic power came from behind him, like the soft rustle of wind through leaves. More and more figures surfaced in his mind. Akemi Aki, Pancham, Maki Zenin, Panda, Toge Inumaki, and of course Satoru Gojo.

  Without realizing it, the hard edge around his heart softened. Yes, this was fine, this was good. In that calm and peaceful state, Akira failed to notice that the dark egg he had carried with him for four days gave a slight tremor, like a heartbeat.

  Life rarely goes the way one hopes. The saying might be exaggerated, but there are always people and events in this world that leave you with no good options. No matter how strong or flawless you are, you still stumble when you run into them.

  For example, Akira when it comes to Akemi Aki, and Satoru Gojo when it comes to Kento Nanami.

  “You should have told me earlier about something like this!” Kento Nanami gripped his phone and complained at the other end.

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  “Sorry, sorry. I handled it too casually and forgot about it. Good thing you reminded me. Here, I will send you something nice to calm you down.” Satoru Gojo sounded as light as ever, without a trace of regret.

  The nice thing arrived immediately, and it was a photo. The first thing in view was a large face, with iconic white hair and Sunglasses that barely let any light through, an obvious selfie from a certain man with the Gojo surname. Behind Satoru Gojo, someone was tightly bound.

  Long hair draped down, their gender unclear, and their clothes matched the Q organization members lying all over the ground. The so-called nice thing was probably the way the bindings were arranged like a turtle shell, with a line of text added to certain key areas saying “It’s small…”. Anyone could guess whose work it was, and the Q member being bullied like this was truly unlucky.

  Akira studied Satoru Gojo’s face and found it much younger than he remembered. “Is this from ten years ago, when you wiped out Q?”

  “Not just me, actually us,” Satoru Gojo replied. “We just took care of everyone who came looking for trouble, and later I heard the organization fell apart because all their Jujutsu Sorcerer were caught in one sweep.”

  “So you caused Q to collapse by crushing their elite combat power,” Akira said, “but the rest of the organization was barely affected?”

  He sighed, finally understanding why Kento Nanami had lost his composure. “It is even possible that the collapse itself was just a cover.”

  “Exactly,” Kento Nanami said, slipping back into his work-is-terrible mood. “The ones giving orders sit at the top, and the ones actually doing things are just workers at the bottom.”

  Akira nodded and continued calmly. “The ones with money and key resources are all at the top. They can declare the organization disbanded, wait until things cool down, and then come back under a new name. Those so-called elite fighters are just higher-level workers.”

  “Right. Even if you are a famous king of workers, as long as you are still a worker, that is what you are.”

  Kento Nanami had once been a worker, and Akira had been one too, so this topic flowed without friction. “I suddenly feel some respect for Gojo-sensei.”

  “Heh heh heh.” Hearing praise from his most reliable subordinate, Satoru Gojo sounded pleased to the point it almost spilled through the signal.

  Kento Nanami decisively hung up, stopping Satoru Gojo before his ego rose any higher. When it came time for a proper evaluation, though, he did not hold back and showed his reliability.

  “This is one reason I was willing to return to the Jujutsu World. Here, individual strength is amplified, and capital is not always absolute. Both sides can restrain each other to a degree, though I still disagree with some of that person’s methods. Order comes first, and on that point I agree with the higher-ups.”

  Akira understood Kento Nanami’s beliefs well and wisely left it there. He did not say that order was never fixed, or that human history had seen many cycles of breaking and rebuilding it. He also kept his suspicions to himself, such as the possibility that Q was a dog raised by the higher-ups to do dirty work and take the blame.

  When needed, such a group could be used to draw attention, then disbanded and later rebuilt. An anti-government organization surviving so long in the tightly controlled Jujutsu World already said enough. Satoru Gojo might have handed this matter to Kento Nanami and Akira precisely to avoid alerting certain people above.

  After all, too many eyes were on Satoru Gojo, while Kento Nanami and Akira drew far less attention and were strong enough to handle it. One was the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer in the usual sense, a Grade One Jujutsu Sorcerer. The other was nominally Grade Four but already standing at the threshold of Special Grade.

  Within the Jujutsu Sorcerer, “Special Grade” meant stepping beyond normal limits, which was why there were only four. Akira returned to the immediate problem. “Putting Gojo-sensei aside, how do we deal with this Q that has resurfaced? Everyone is dead, so we cannot follow any leads.”

  If they were alive, Akira could have asked Gardevoir to trace things back with psychic power. With that path blocked, only standard methods remained. “We let the police run big data checks, confirm identities, screen associates, and pull nearby surveillance. But the efficiency of the police in Japan is worrying. I wonder if Gojo-sensei could pressure them…”

  “Akira.” Kento Nanami’s steady voice cut him off. “That is not something you should be thinking about. We are Jujutsu Sorcerer, not police, not forensic experts, not investigators.”

  “If we did everything ourselves, we would be exhausted to death,” he continued. “Let professionals handle professional work. We only need to fight as Jujutsu Sorcerer. That is also a form of order.”