The venue shifted to the school's massive central training square. Because Jujutsu High was specifically engineered to house catastrophic combat training, the square was astronomically larger than a normal school's courtyard. Compounded by the overlapping great barriers protecting the campus, the structural integrity of the area far exceeded anything in the mundane world.
Kinji Hakari and Yuki Tsukumo stood approximately fifty meters apart. They didn't engage immediately; instead, they began to casually warm up.
The students scrambled up the massive stone steps on the perimeter, securing seats to witness an absolute apex-tier Jujutsu clash. Gojo had explicitly told them that if Hakari was on a roll, even Special Grade Sorcerers couldn't stop him. And Yuki Tsukumo was an officially designated Special Grade. This was an undeniable, world-class Special Grade duel.
Thanks to Gojo, they vaguely understood the conceptual terror of a 'Special Grade,' but this would be their first time witnessing that apocalyptic power clash firsthand.
Gojo stood casually next to Hakari as he stretched, laughing brightly. "Your underclassmen are watching, you know. Don't embarrass me. It's just Yuki Tsukumo—beat the absolute hell out of her!"
Hakari finally broke his stoic composure. "Gojo-sensei, do you even realize what you're saying right now?"
*I am literally the chief enforcer for the King of Curses! You are actively cheering for the enemy right now, do you realize that?!*
"Kinji," Gojo said suddenly, his tone dropping its playful edge. "You will eventually become a Sorcerer capable of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me. I have never once doubted that."
The pivot in topic was jarring, but Hakari instantly understood exactly what Gojo was trying to say.
He fell silent. Memories of his time under Gojo's tutelage flooded his mind. Gojo wasn't exactly a 'good' teacher in the traditional, academic sense, but he was an unparalleled mentor and friend. Gojo didn't care about societal norms or rigid traditions. He would unapologetically take your side, even if you violently shattered mainstream Jujutsu taboos.
Gojo would stand as your shield. He would ruthlessly protect your freedom. He would effortlessly shoulder the crushing, invisible political pressure aimed at you, always maintaining that infuriatingly cocky smile, making it look as though holding up the collapsing sky was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
Hakari respected Satoru Gojo more than anyone else in the world. That was an indisputable fact.
If this were the past, Hakari would have responded with absolute, unwavering loyalty. He would have said: *I know, Gojo-sensei. Please, let me be your strength!*
But now, he could never utter those words again.
He pressed his leg down into a deep stretch and spoke softly.
"Gojo-sensei, I can't lie to you... and it's not because of a Binding Vow. I saw the light. The light Mahito showed me. I was supposed to wander forever in the absolute abyss of Jujutsu society. Even the faintest glimmer of starlight would have been enough to comfort me. But now, a blinding, inescapable light has illuminated my path... I can't go back."
"What's with all this 'light' nonsense? Kinji, are you going through a late chuunibyou phase?" Gojo chuckled softly.
"Let's just say I am." Hakari began doing chest expansions, his voice straining slightly with the physical exertion. "Jujutsu society has been rotting from the inside out for centuries. That is a reality even you admit, Gojo-sensei. I truly believe that one day, you and the underclassmen will successfully tear it down and rebuild it. I never doubted that. But even if you do... how long will that golden age last? After you die, Gojo-sensei, how long will the future you forged actually endure? I can't help but look at that future with absolute pessimism."
"I remember you being a deeply optimistic kid," Gojo noted quietly.
"Reality forced me to change," Hakari said flatly. "Just like how I used to firmly believe you would eventually bring me justice. When the Jujutsu Headquarters issued my execution order, I didn't violently retaliate. When I was hiding like a rat in an abandoned parking garage, I firmly believed my warrant would be revoked any day. But I waited, and waited... until Mahito finally found me. Until I officially joined his faction. The 'justice' Jujutsu society owed me never arrived."
Hakari wasn't blaming Gojo. On the contrary, the deeper he sank into the violently prejudiced abyss of mainstream Jujutsu society, the more he fully comprehended just how far Gojo had gone to protect him. He cherished Gojo's grace more than ever.
Gojo stood at the absolute zenith of the Jujutsu world, yet even he lacked the political omnipotence to protect a favored student from being branded with an unjust execution order.
Of course, because Hakari was a lethal powerhouse, and because Gojo's invisible pressure loomed over Headquarters, the 'execution order' was practically unenforced.
But surviving despite a death warrant is entirely different from not having one at all. Gojo had failed him.
"I promised you that I would personally eradicate every single injustice you faced." Gojo's smile vanished completely. His expression turned deadly serious. "I haven't retracted that promise. All you have to do is come back to my side."
The offer was genuine. Hakari could hear the absolute sincerity in Gojo's voice. But he didn't look back. He just spoke with a detached, clinical calmness.
"Before the collapse of the Soviet Union, America was a utopia—so impossibly perfect that modern people can't even fathom it. A single blue-collar factory worker could easily feed a family of six. They possessed the most comprehensive, flawless healthcare nets imaginable. Absolutely no one feared for their future. Their union system was utterly devoid of corruption; every worker united their strength to vocalize their rights. It felt as though the world would remain perfectly beautiful forever."
Hakari transitioned into his next stretch, his voice steady as he continued his monologue.
"But the second the Soviet Union collapsed, everything violently inverted. America became the undisputed, unchallenged global hegemon. It waged endless wars. It casually humiliated other nations. It would swear solemn treaties and rip them to shreds the very next month. Its flawless union system mutated into a violently monopolized mafia; everyone forced to join a union now suffers in agonizing extortion. The nation became a ferociously greedy dragon, mercilessly spewing catastrophic floods, drowning the world—and itself—in its wake."
Hakari stretched his arms straight up, elongating his spine.
"I am absolutely certain that if you actually convinced me to defect right now, the Jujutsu Headquarters would be ecstatic. They would agree to literally any demand I made. Even if I demanded they crawl on their hands and knees to beg for my forgiveness, I believe they would do it... But the absolute second Mahito is eradicated, I guarantee they will instantly violently flip on me. They will force me to suffer a hundred times the humiliation I already endured. They'll treat me like a disposable pawn—used when convenient, tossed aside in disgust when the threat is gone."
Gojo couldn't refute a single word. Even Gojo himself knew, with absolute certainty, that Hakari's prediction was precisely how the future would unfold.
Gojo sighed heavily. "So... what exactly did the King of Curses promise you?"
"He promised me absolutely nothing," Hakari smiled.
"Nothing?"
"Correct. Absolutely nothing."
"He promised you nothing, yet you offer him this level of fanatical loyalty?" Gojo asked, genuinely bewildered. "I never took you for someone with brain damage, Hakari."
"Mahito is a good person," Hakari said slowly.
"A good person? He is a Cursed Spirit!" Gojo stressed emphatically. "I know the King of Curses acts more 'human' than most Sorcerers. Since his debut, I haven't heard a single confirmed report of him actively hunting civilians. And yes, while he allied with Curse Users, those same Curse Users have completely halted their murderous activities under his reign. The entire world seems quiet, save for the minor, newly spawned Curses. I don't doubt for a second that his localized actions make him seem like a 'good person.'"
Gojo paused, his tone turning grave. "But he is fundamentally not human! Regardless of how benevolent he appears, a Cursed Spirit can absolutely never become the King of Humanity! Human society must ultimately be governed by humans. That is the absolute, non-negotiable bottom line... and the King of Curses has violently crossed it."
This was the true, core reason Gojo radiated such intense hostility toward Mahito. Gojo understood perfectly that this wasn't a petty squabble over 'good vs. evil.' It was a war of biological sovereignty! As a human, it was fundamentally, biologically impossible to accept a Cursed Spirit as a sovereign ruler!
Humanity, as the sole apex species on the planet, had grown utterly accustomed to absolute dominion. How could they possibly roll out the red carpet for a rival apex species to subjugate them? Gojo literally could not conceptualize a future where that was acceptable.
As long as that apocalyptic possibility existed—the King of Curses had to die!
Whether Mahito was a "good person" or not was completely irrelevant. His morality didn't change the absolute necessity for humanity to permanently eradicate him, to remain eternally vigilant, and to never yield an inch of ground!
"Are humans truly fit to rule humans?" Hakari asked suddenly.
Gojo frowned. "Do you even hear yourself right now, Kinji?"
"Gojo-sensei, do you know exactly how many people die in Tokyo every single year?" Hakari asked. He didn't wait for an answer. "Excluding the missing persons, the confirmed death toll exceeds 110,000. That's an average of over 300 deaths every single day, and the metric is climbing annually. According to data projections, Japan's death rate will peak in 2039, surging to 1.67 million deaths per year."
Gojo remained silent.
Hakari continued slowly. "The very first statistic every student at Jujutsu High is forced to memorize is the annual civilian casualty rate caused by Cursed Spirits... What was it again? Ten thousand a year? Fifty thousand? And those are all filed under 'missing persons,' meaning they aren't even included in the confirmed death toll I just cited."
Hakari's voice dropped into a heavy, suffocating bass.
"While sitting in classrooms, I never fully processed the math. The total number of humans slaughtered by Cursed Spirits across the entirety of Japan... doesn't even amount to half the number of humans killed by other humans in Tokyo alone! When I first saw the actual data, I naively assumed most of those deaths were accidents or natural causes. But they aren't. Suicides, stress-induced heart failure, occupational hazards—those make up the overwhelming majority."
Hakari paused, exhaling slowly as he finished his final stretch.
Gojo was silent. He genuinely hadn't looked into those statistics. Just fending off the political assassinations from the Higher-ups left him completely exhausted. He had to carve out his own time just to teach his students; he had zero bandwidth to study the nation's annual mortality rates, let alone read dense sociological reports.
He only cared about Jujutsu society and maintaining the veil between it and the mundane world. Beyond that, he had never once harbored the ambition to micromanage normal human civilization.
These cold, brutal statistics slammed into him. For the first time, he was caught completely off guard. He was stunned.
Hakari spoke with clinical calmness. "The school taught me that Cursed Spirits are unforgivable because direct murder is an absolute taboo."
"So, if a corporate mandate forces an employee to work agonizing overtime until their heart literally explodes... does that not count as murder?"
"If someone is worked so relentlessly they can't afford a proper meal, eventually dying from severe malnutrition and vitamin deficiency... does that not count as murder?"
"If society crushes someone under such immense, suffocating pressure that they throw themselves off a roof... does that not count as murder?"
"Human trafficking. The narcotics trade. The sociopathic children of elite politicians who legally walk free because a bribed judge labels them 'mentally unfit.' The hypocritical CEOs who preach 'righteousness' while forcing their employees to labor under illegal, soul-crushing conditions."
"Problems exactly like these are absolutely ubiquitous in our modern society."
"Do these not count as murder?"
"I am not a grand politician. I have absolutely no clue how to solve these systemic societal rot. Even if I racked my brain until it bled, I could never draft a policy to fix it. Because I don't understand sociology, I don't understand macroeconomics, I don't understand geopolitical diplomacy. Hell, I can barely manage my own personal relationships without making a mess."
"But I know how to do basic, ten-digit arithmetic."
"No matter how you slice the data, the number of humans slaughtered by humans astronomically eclipses the number of humans slaughtered by Curses. That data is an absolute, undeniable fact."
Hakari stood perfectly straight. He raised his arms high toward the sky, stretching with his entire body.
He spoke with absolute, crushing gravity.
"Humans have ruled humans for over ten thousand years. And all I see is an infinite, cascading disaster. We are plummeting into an abyss, constantly accelerating downward. There is no floor. There is nowhere left to stand."
"And now, at the absolute breaking point, a Cursed Spirit—one even you admit is a 'good person,' Gojo-sensei—has chosen to step up and try to fix it using his own methods. Why shouldn't I..."
"...Gamble big on him?"
*You are using the entire future of the human race as your poker chips?!* Gojo wanted to scream. But he knew, with absolute certainty, that arguing was entirely pointless now.
Hakari hadn't been brainwashed. He wasn't shackled by a Binding Vow. He had arrived at this conclusion entirely through his own free will, his own lived experiences, his own deep contemplation, and his own raw observations of reality.
And his conclusion wasn't an isolated delusion. Forget Gojo—if Hakari broadcasted this speech to the world, a massive demographic would vehemently agree with him. Not because they were idiots who didn't understand the inherent danger of Cursed Spirits, but simply because... over the last ten thousand years, humanity's track record of ruling itself had been catastrophically, undeniably horrific.
There was a popular internet meme that perfectly encapsulated this exact phenomenon: An alien lands on Earth, announcing its intention to conquer the planet. A terrified factory worker tremblingly asks, "H-How do you plan to enslave us?" The alien sneers sadistically and declares:
*"From now on, you will be forced to labor for eight grueling hours a day! You will only be provided three meals a day, plus snacks, and milk will only be provided in the mornings! Your lunch break will be a mere one hour! Hahaha, you will be exhausted!"*
*"You will only receive bonuses three times a year, and you only get two months of paid vacation! But here is the most diabolical torture: you will only receive mandatory psychological counseling once a week! Your salary will only increase every four months, overtime will only pay triple your base rate, and you will be forced to exercise after work!"*
Ask any blue-collar corporate drone on the planet: who wouldn't be violently tempted by that 'slavery'?
It was exactly as Hakari said—
—*Since humanity has catastrophically failed, why not let the Curses give it a shot?*
"I honestly can't tell if you've completely lost your mind, Kinji," Gojo sighed.
"I don't know either." Hakari broke into a wide, reckless grin. "But I know I can afford the buy-in. And the reason I can gamble this big... is precisely because you're standing right behind me, Gojo-sensei. If Mahito's revolution fails, if it turns into a nightmare, I know with absolute certainty that you will rip his head off and hit the reset button. Am I wrong?"
Gojo froze, genuinely shocked. "You actually factored that in?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Hakari finished his warm-up, flashing a confident thumbs-up. "You're Gojo-sensei. What possible reason could I have... not to trust you?"
Gojo's heart skipped a beat. He suddenly remembered Hakari's earlier warning: *If Mahito fails to kill you, the Ryomen Sukuna locked inside Yuji is the next blade destined to be aimed at your throat.*
Hakari really was a sappy idiot! That intel was a theoretical trump card, highly classified, yet Hakari had leaked it to him without a microsecond of hesitation.
On one hand, Hakari had chosen to back the King of Curses' bid for global supremacy. He wanted to gamble on a massive societal reset, and because of that, he would never betray Mahito. Even standing face-to-face with Gojo, he refused to compromise an inch.
But on the other hand, he desperately wanted Satoru Gojo to survive. He wanted Gojo to live forever. Because the moment the King of Curses' revolution turned toxic, Hakari was explicitly relying on Satoru Gojo to personally execute Mahito and return the world to zero.
This was... an unfathomable, monumental level of trust!
Gojo couldn't help but be profoundly moved. But he would absolutely never show it on his face.
He flashed his trademark arrogant, infinitely cocky grin, and pointed at Hakari. "Hah. Leave it to me."
"Judging by Satoru's face, I'd say your deranged little cult pitch actually worked on him."
Yuki Tsukumo shrugged off her jacket, revealing a fiercely athletic physique. Cursed Energy began to violently ripple, starting from the very tips of her hair. Under the blazing midday sun, her blonde hair seemed to ignite, burning with a molten, golden-red hue. The sun framed her back, making her look like a goddess of war descending straight from the solar core.
Hakari felt an absolutely crushing pressure wash over him. The tiny dragon on his shoulder had long since opened its eyes, glaring ferociously at Yuki. Hakari let out a booming, fearless laugh. His own Cursed Energy roared to life, and as it ignited, the tiny dragon began to morph.
The dragon suddenly spread its wings, launching itself into the sky. Hakari stepped forward.
"How do you know it's a cult pitch?" Hakari asked, rolling his shoulders.
"The second you placed your faith in a Cursed Spirit, every word leaving your mouth became delusional garbage." Yuki chuckled darkly. "Satoru is still too young. He's been caged on this tiny island nation for so long that his soul has molded into the shape of Japan. He possesses enough raw power to exterminate the human race, yet his mind is as ridiculously naive as a pure-hearted schoolgirl who's never been on a date."
"So... you're not going to listen to a single word I say, huh?" Hakari's lips peeled back, baring his teeth in a predatory, tiger-like grin.
"I'm standing right here precisely *because* I've listened to entirely too much of it." Yuki mirrored his grin, her smile radiating the terrifying malice of a demon. "Come on, kid! Let me physically beat the King of Curses' grand philosophy out of your skull!"
"Bring it on!" Hakari slammed his hands together, forming a hand sign, and roared with manic exhilaration:
"Kinji Hakari. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, Third-Year!"
"Tsukumo-sama! I humbly request your guidance!"
Yuki's adrenaline violently spiked. She tossed her jacket completely aside, revealing a tight, sleeveless combat tank top that clung to her explosive musculature. The discarded jacket fluttered high into the air, snapping violently in the wind like a black war banner.
She laughed—a booming, euphoric roar.
"Yuki Tsukumo, Special Grade Jujutsu Sorcerer! I accept your challenge—"
"—Now show me what you've got!"