[Not destruction. Hijacking.]
[The kind of precision that could only come from hundreds of failed attempts, you layered a perfectly inverted Flowing Corridor on top of the one the Cursed Spirit had deployed.]
[If the spirit's technique was a black hole that devoured all sense of direction, then yours was the white hole that untangled every thread of chaos.]
["Break."]
[A single word, barely above a whisper. Two techniques born from the same source but opposite in polarity collided in the air.]
[The impossible, endlessly looping corridors shattered like a mirror struck by a sledgehammer. Fragments of warped space peeled away with a crisp, splintering sound, revealing the manor's original layout: straight hallways, rotting wood, nothing more.]
["Follow me."]
[You stood amid a rain of dissolving spatial shards, adjusted your glasses, and waved the two women forward.]
[Casual. Unhurried. As though what you'd just dismantled wasn't a first-grade Cursed Spirit's barrier but a grade-school math problem.]
[Utahime and Mei Mei froze where they stood. As a second-grade and first-grade Jujutsu Sorcerer respectively, they understood better than anyone what had happened in that instant.]
["Was that... the Cursed Spirit's Innate Technique?"]
[Behind those perpetually calculating eyes, something Mei Mei rarely showed flickered through: genuine shock. The abacus in her head spun into overdrive. Impossible. He used Phantom Night Parade to analyze the Cursed Energy and technique on contact, then immediately constructed a replica to counteract it? That speed of technique replication... even the Gojo Clan's Six Eyes would need time to process something like this. Phantom Night Parade might be built for exactly this, but still, this is absurd.]
["Hayase...!!"]
[Utahime abandoned every shred of senior composure. Tears from her time trapped in the loop still clung to her lashes as she lunged forward and seized your sleeve like a lifeline.]
["I knew it, you're the only reliable one! You're the only normal person here! Not like those two worthless disasters who cause nothing but trouble!"]
[She clapped your shoulder with enough force to make you wince, looking at you as though you were one of the only two remaining consciences at Jujutsu High. The other being Shoko.]
["Huh? Utahime, you're crying so hard your nose is about to start running."]
[Right on cue, that blood-pressure-spiking voice rang out.]
[The manor's front door flew open under one kick. Gojo strolled in, hands stuffed in his pockets, radiating the energy of someone who owned the building.]
[Those pale blue eyes swept the room from behind his sunglasses. Three people, not a scratch on any of them. His mouth twisted in disappointment.]
["Tch. Boring. I could've blasted this dump and the Cursed Spirit sky-high with one Blue, but no, we had to go with the fancy technical approach. Hayase, were you just showing off your little party trick?"]
Only you knew it wasn't showing off.
You were clinging to every opportunity before the nightmare named Toji Fushiguro arrived, testing each technique you'd refined across simulations in live conditions.
["Satoru, you don't have to respect your senior, but at least try being gentle."]
[Geto trailed in behind him, smiling that easy smile, playing peacemaker.]
["Utahime must've been terrified in there. Not everyone can be as strong as us, solving everything without even having to think."]
["Geto! Gojo! You two are the absolute worst!"]
[A vein pulsed at Utahime's temple. She spun on her heel and threw herself into Shoko's arms like a ship fleeing to harbor.]
["Shoko! Look at them! They're not cute at all! You're the only good one, Shoko... sniff..."]
[Shoko stood there with a cigarette dangling from her lips, resignation written across her face, letting Utahime cling to her.]
["Yeah, yeah. There, there."]
[In the middle of all that laughter and familiar chaos, no one noticed the Cursed Spirit cowering in the shadows of the ruined manor.]
[Its intelligence was low, but instinct told it everything it needed to know. The two men who'd walked in last radiated a pressure that could crush it without effort.]
[Driven by that primal terror, the spirit warped into a streak of twisted shadow and bolted for the tree line behind the building.]
["Oh? Running?"]
[Gojo tilted his head, finger already rising. Beside him, Geto moved to summon a spirit for interception.]
["Since you're here, you're staying."]
[A calm voice beat them both.]
[Your silhouette vanished from where you'd been standing and reappeared in the spirit's path.]
[Facing down a massive first-grade Cursed Spirit with a gaping maw wide enough to swallow a person whole, you didn't summon Wukong. Didn't use a single technique.]
[You reinforced your body with Cursed Energy and threw a straight punch.]
[A dull, bone-grinding impact.]
[The spirit's hardened exoskeleton met your knuckles, and the recoil screamed up every nerve in your arm, straight into your brain.]
[Anyone else would have hesitated. Flinched. But under Masochist, the agony converted instantly into a flood of adrenaline, and behind your lenses, something savage flickered to life.]
["Get... down."]
[You powered through the impact, reversed your grip to lock onto the spirit's thick arm, and torqued from the hips. A textbook over-the-shoulder throw.]
[The manor's foundation shuddered. The massive Cursed Spirit slammed through the floorboards like a ragdoll, rotten wood exploding outward, half its body driven into the earth and pinned there.]
[Dust billowed. You raised one foot and planted it on the spirit's enormous skull with absolute, deliberate violence.]
[A wet creak of deforming bone. Foul fluid erupted from its mouth.]
[With one hand, you calmly straightened your crooked glasses, then turned to meet the stares of the two strongest people in the room, neither of whom had managed to act first.]
[One full second of silence.]
[Gojo and Geto looked at the brutalized spirit beneath your heel, and something new entered their expressions. Respect, tinged with surprise.]
[Neither had expected this. The quiet, bespectacled craftsman who spent his days tinkering with puppets and Cursed Corpses, cracked open, there was a beast underneath.]
[This past year, you hadn't been content to watch their backs from behind.]
[You'd never catch up to their innate talent for techniques. But inch by brutal inch, through the most raw and direct methods available, you were closing the gap they called "the strongest."]
["Suguru."]
[You pointed down at the spirit wheezing its last beneath your foot.]
["This thing's spatial technique is pretty interesting, so I didn't exorcise it. Should make a decent addition to your collection, right?"]