Of course Gojo hadn't recognized the material earlier. It wasn't a known material. It was a new substance—a hybrid born from cursed energy mutating fungal cellulose, blending the supple strength of human tissue with otherworldly resilience.
Witnessing the fish-curse's grotesque metamorphosis, both Geto and Gojo were frozen, eyes wide, as if hit by a binding spell. A curse, reshaped by a mere pill into something… administrative. It was absurd.
"How many of those… candy beans do you have?" Geto finally managed, his voice tight.
"Correction. They are Kamo Pills," Itsuki stated, utterly serious. "I've synthesized ten. That should suffice for your initial needs." He produced a small vial and handed it over.
Geto took it, peering inside. Only seven dark pellets remained. With the two already used, that made nine. "You said ten."
"Ah. I fed one to a curse in my own collection for preliminary testing," Kamo explained offhandedly.
Gojo, his initial shock giving way to scrutiny, cut to the heart of the matter. "It's a neat trick. But can these things actually replace sorcerers?"
Geto's gaze echoed the question, a flicker of doubt beneath the hope.
"Why else would I have bothered?" Kamo retorted, arms crossed, confidence unwavering. "Suguru. Consider these two your… head butlers, for now. Test them. Give them orders a human attendant would follow."
"Any orders?"
"Exactly as before with Cursed Spirit Manipulation. Except now, their obedience comes with human-like precision."
Geto acted immediately. He directed 'Number One' to fetch a spare butler's uniform for 'Number Two'. He had them sweep the hall, polish furniture, perform a series of mundane domestic tasks. Their movements were swift, efficient, unnervingly exact.
He then escalated. He sent them on a mock mission to exorcise low-grade curses in a nearby district. They complied without hesitation. Next, he had them sit at the consultation desk—the one set up for citizen grievances—and systematically process a series of fabricated complaints, offering logical, if silent, solutions.
Finally, his expression turned grave. He summoned several other curses, commanding them to attack the two puppets in a controlled skirmish.
The result was startling. Number One and Two didn't just fight back; they adapted. They analyzed patterns, evaded repeated attack vectors, and launched crude but effective counter-assaults. Geto felt a genuine spark of combat intuition from them—a primitive, but undeniable, capacity for tactical learning. A move used once was less likely to land a second time.
Apart from their silent, scaled visages, they could perform nearly every duty of a low-to-mid-grade sorcerer. And they could improve.
"They… they can replace them," Geto breathed out, a current of raw, electrifying excitement cutting through his usual calm. "This could solve everything."
A gentle breeze swept through, rustling leaves but doing nothing to cool the feverish hope now hanging in the air.
"This specific effect is only possible because you wield Cursed Spirit Manipulation," Kamo clarified, his tone leveling. "And currently, the pills are only stable for curses Grade 3 and below." The limitation was inherent to the base fungal curse's grade. Pushing the envelope was possible, but time had been short. For handling the common, weaker curses that comprised most of the workload, Grade 3 was more than sufficient.
Gojo Satoru, who had observed the entire demonstration with a gradually shifting expression, gave a slow, conceding nod. However grudgingly, he had to admit it: Geto was right.
Kamo Itsuki was a miracle worker. A man who rewrote the rules of their reality. The full, profound implications of this research would send shockwaves through the entire jujutsu world, upending centuries of tradition and scarcity.
But those were future concerns. As the tension of the demonstration eased, a different, more familiar impulse surged in Gojo. His sharp gaze locked onto Kamo, a competitive grin spreading across his face.
All this talk of puppets and pills was fine. But what he really wanted now was to see how all that genius held up in a real, no-holds-barred fight.
"Itsuki. Since Suguru's little staffing issue is sorted," Gojo began, his playful tone vanishing into something uncharacteristically earnest, his gaze sharp and steady on Kamo. "It's your turn to help me with something."
Kamo raised an eyebrow. "My help? Is this about scouting more talented sorcerers?" A flicker of puzzlement crossed his face. "Haven't I already found you Okkotsu Yuta? A boy with Special-Grade potential. What more could you possibly want?"
"No, no, I can handle that sort of thing myself," Gojo waved a hand dismissively, a fraction too fast. Can't let him know I haven't even approached Yuta yet, he thought, or he'll never agree to this. He swiftly pivoted. "I'm talking about fighting you. I brought it up on the phone, remember? Don't tell me you forgot."
"Did you?" Kamo's brow furrowed slightly, eyes distant in recollection. "I only recall you complaining about feeling unwell. I assumed you had indigestion."
"Your acting's gotten better. Almost convincing," Gojo pouted, his expression a masterpiece of theatrical skepticism. Internally, a wave of sheer annoyance crested. If Kamo genuinely hadn't heard him… then all that elaborate maneuvering, all that effort to loop Geto in… it had all been a complete waste of his precious time and drama.
Forget it. The past was irrelevant.
"Doesn't matter," Gojo declared, cutting off his own spiraling thoughts. His focus snapped back, intense and clear. "I'm asking you now. Will you fight me? Yes or no?"
Kamo Itsuki didn't even blink. A confident, almost challenging smile touched his lips.
"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"
"No—huh?!" Gojo's prepared rebuttal died in his throat. His eyes widened behind his blindfold. "Yes? Just like that?!"
For a single, disorienting second, the mighty Gojo Satoru was completely thrown off-balance. A torrent of bewildered frustration flooded in.
Then what was the point of all that earlier scheming?!
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