[Afternoon sunlight slanted through the gymnasium's tall windows, scattering patterns across the hardwood. The air filled with the squeak of rubber soles and the rhythmic thud of a basketball hitting the rim.]
[A rare moment of downtime at Jujutsu High. But the atmosphere on the court was tightening with every word exchanged between the two boys.]
["Like I keep telling you, Suguru."]
[Gojo stood beyond the three-point line, spinning the ball on one finger, irritation plain on his face.]
["Dumping your reasons and responsibilities onto someone else's strength? That's what weaklings do. Quit getting drunk on your own 'sorcerers are so noble' speeches. It makes me wanna puke."]
["Satoru, watch what you say."]
[Geto stood beneath the basket, brow furrowed, voice tight with conviction.]
["The weak survive. That's how society should function. If those with power refuse to protect those without it, they're nothing but thugs. Jujutsu Sorcerers exist to protect non-sorcerers. That's our duty."]
["Duty? I didn't get strong so I could babysit a bunch of people who can't even see curses!"]
[Neither gave an inch. The air between them crackled with invisible sparks.]
[Watching them, a memory surfaced unbidden from the last simulation.]
[You'd been sitting in the corner of this same court, listening to this exact argument. Geto had asked for your opinion, but Gojo cut him off: "Don't force a question on him that isn't his to answer."]
[What you'd felt in that moment wasn't relief.]
[Because the subtext was clear: He's too weak to have a seat at this table.]
[You'd hated Geto's lofty philosophy of the strong dispensing charity to the weak. You'd resented Gojo's arrogant creed of the strong standing alone above all. But what you'd hated most was yourself, powerless to push back, reduced to scenery.]
[This time was different.]
[Gojo stopped spinning the ball. Those eyes cut through his sunglasses and landed squarely on you, sitting on the bench at the edge of the court.]
[Geto turned at almost the same instant, gaze settling on you. No dismissal. No exclusion.]
["Hey, Hayase."]
[Gojo lobbed the basketball your way. The throw wasn't gentle, but that was the point. It was how you treated an equal.]
["Quit playing mute over there. You've gotten a lot stronger this year. Still nowhere near me, obviously, but you're somebody now. So what's your take? You backing Suguru's feel-good sermon, or do you think I'm right?"]
[Geto smiled, warm but probing. This time he didn't stop Gojo from asking. He was waiting for your answer too.]
["I'd like to hear what you think, Hayase. You're the one who solves missions in ways nobody else would think to try."]
[The ball landed in your hands.]
[You stood, but didn't look at either of them. You dribbled toward the basket, no Cursed Energy, no flash, no flair. A regular high schooler's layup.]
[The ball dropped clean through the net, bounced twice, and rolled into the corner.]
["How do I put this..."]
[You pushed your glasses up and turned to face the two boys who stood at the summit of the jujutsu world. Your voice came out level. No trace of the old bitterness, no nervousness before strength.]
["Suguru, I don't agree with you."]
[A flicker of surprise crossed Geto's face. He hadn't expected the rebuttal to come that bluntly.]
["You say the strong should protect the weak. But in a world drowning in curses, who gets to define 'weak'? Are ordinary people without Cursed Energy automatically the weak ones? If so, then why is it their overflowing malice that births the curses killing us?"
"If one day some ordinary, powerless person spawns a special-grade curse out of ugly desire and it kills a strong, kind-hearted sorcerer... is that protection still justice?"]
[Geto's pupils contracted. The blind spot you'd exposed, that the weak could be the source of evil too, sent a tremor through the flawless moral architecture he'd built inside himself.]
["As for you, Satoru."]
[You turned to the white-haired boy. One eyebrow was raised, interest piqued.]
["I don't think you're cold-blooded. You hate being shackled by abstract ideals. You don't want your power turned into a tool for other people's moral leverage. You want to live free. Nothing wrong with that."
"But I don't fully agree with you either. Total freedom is chaos. If your strength has no direction, if you won't even protect the people you care about, then what's the point of getting stronger?"]
["So what are you saying, exactly?"]
[Gojo's lip curled.]
["You're not picking a side? Trying to play peacemaker?"]
["I don't know."]
["What's right, what's wrong... that's philosophy. A luxury for people at the top with time to spare on big questions."]
["I'm still an ordinary person. I don't have the power to carry humanity's fate on my shoulders, and I've got zero interest in playing savior."]
[You walked over, picked up the ball from the corner, and tossed it back to Geto.]
["All I know is I'll do what I can. If someone tries to kill me, I'll kill them right back. If someone needs saving and it's within my reach, I'll lend a hand. Doesn't matter if they're strong or weak. I only care whether I want to cast my vote. That's it."
"And honestly? I think the whole direction of your argument is pointless."
"You're fighting over what to do with the water. Dam it up or let it flow. But neither of you is asking about the faucet."]
["The faucet?"]
[Both of them looked at you, puzzled.]
["Curses are born from humanity's negative emotions."
You laid the heaviest conclusion down without raising your voice.
"As long as humans are alive, as long as they feel fear and jealousy and hatred, Cursed Spirits will never stop coming. Suguru can protect all he wants, Satoru can kill as fast as he likes, and it'll still amount to cleaning up an endless tide of garbage. Mopping the floor in a house with a leaking roof, while nobody bothers to patch it."
"If you don't solve the root problem of how Cursed Spirits are born, the two of you could argue for a hundred years. Argue until you're dead."
"And this world won't change one bit."]