Chapter 24

The evening breeze drifted gently, causing the leaves to rustle with a soft, whispering sound. The river glimmered under the silver moonlight, resembling a ribbon of silk inlaid into the rich, dark night.

The air was still. Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto stood frozen like wooden statues, their eyes fixed on Fyodor with expressions of confusion and bewilderment.

"Um... Gojo-kun? Geto-kun?" the slender, dark-haired youth asked tentatively, looking innocent.

The two snapped back to reality, strode toward Fyodor, and suddenly crouched down. They were no longer concerned with their sickly classmate; compared to that, the cursed spirit that had inexplicably collapsed was far more intriguing.

Gojo, having found a twig from somewhere, poked Hanami’s face, causing the cursed spirit’s head to sway from side to side. Geto sat with his hands on his knees, brows furrowed, examining the spirit closely. Compared to Gojo’s casual "hooligan squat" with his legs spread wide, Geto’s posture was far more reserved. However, given his height, his long legs looked somewhat pitifully compressed in that position.

"Playing dead?" Geto guessed.

"Doesn't look like it," Gojo replied. "Besides, there’s no reason for it to play dead when it was just about to capture a hostage."

"Then what happened?"

"Let me take a look."

Gojo’s eyes, known as the "Six Eyes," possessed the ability to see through to the truth. They constantly gathered information from the surroundings, placing an immense burden on the brain. The drawback was that they could not be "turned off"; they had been active since the day he was born. If one were to compare a human brain to a CPU, Gojo’s ran at a hundred times the speed of an ordinary person’s and was constantly burning hot.

In daily life, at least eighty percent of the information he processed was useless. Unable to filter it like an ordinary person, Gojo wore sunglasses to make things more manageable. To him, the sunglasses served a different purpose, so he never took them off, even at night. It is worth mentioning that ten years later, Gojo switched to a blindfold, perhaps finding it more effective than sunglasses.

He pinched the bridge of his glasses, removed them, and lowered his gaze, focusing his icy blue eyes intently on the cursed spirit.

When Gojo was serious, the usual frivolity vanished from his face. His lips were set in a straight line, and his eyes held a faint, chilling edge. He was like the bright moonlight pouring down from the heavens—cold, aloof, and ethereal. It was a stark contrast to his usual behavior.

Geto was stunned, wondering if Gojo had been replaced or if he possessed a dual personality. In reality, this had been Gojo’s true nature before the age of twelve: cold, indifferent, and haughty. After twelve, it was as if he had mutated—or perhaps, driven to the edge by his family, he had snapped, and the world had suddenly gone quiet.

Gojo had a sudden realization; he had found a way to deal with those old fossils. From that day on, he completely let himself go, like a wild horse without a bridle.

"Well..." Gojo, having finished his "serious" business, managed to stay cool for less than three seconds before looking up at Geto and saying gloomily, "Couldn't see anything."

Geto, who had been holding his breath and focusing his attention in anticipation of intelligence from Gojo: "..."

Fyodor stood to the side, silent, taking the opportunity to observe whether Gojo could discern his manipulation. In the manga, the author never explicitly stated whether the Six Eyes could see the "truth" on a spiritual or soul level, but as far as Fyodor was concerned, it was highly unlikely. The evidence lay in the Shibuya Incident, where Gojo, upon seeing Kenjaku inhabiting Geto’s body, had said: "All the information my Six Eyes provide tells me you are him, but my soul denies it."

Still, just to be safe, Fyodor decided to test them. If discovered, he would simply claim it was his own cursed technique. If not, even better; he could hide in the shadows and achieve much more.

"Um..."

As Gojo and Geto were on the verge of bickering again, a soft voice spoke up. Both turned to look at Fyodor. The dark-haired youth lowered his eyes, rubbing the tip of his nose with his finger, and said, "It was my cursed technique."

"Eh?!" Both of them widened their eyes, emitting a sound of utter disbelief.

"That’s not right. My eyes can analyze cursed techniques; how come I didn't see it?" Gojo caught the blind spot.

"Perhaps because my technique is too weak?" Fyodor suggested uncertainly. "My technique is similar to a buff in a game; it can add weaknesses, or 'critical points,' to a cursed spirit. For example, under normal circumstances, part of the damage you deal to a cursed spirit is mitigated, but after I apply my technique, your damage becomes a piercing critical hit, dealing one hundred percent effectiveness against the spirit."

In reality, it wasn't a cursed technique at all, but an ability. Abilities and jujutsu were entirely different systems, so it was only natural that the Six Eyes couldn't detect it. As it stood, Fyodor hadn't discovered any cursed technique within himself. As for why he could see cursed spirits... not every jujutsu sorcerer had a technique. In fact, most didn't. Such people relied on weapons—not cursed tools, which were expensive and rare—to exorcise spirits. Sorcerers could imbue their cursed energy into objects, making the weapon a medium, meaning the essence of the damage dealt to the spirit was still the cursed energy.

"Huh?" A look of confusion appeared on Gojo’s face. This explanation still felt off. What did the strength of a technique have to do with being seen? But Fyodor had no reason to lie to him. Furthermore, revealing one's technique usually provided a boost in power, and sorcerers often intentionally disclosed their techniques during battle; there was no benefit in hiding it.

Perhaps, he simply hadn't encountered this before. The probability of choking on water was low, but it wasn't zero. The Six Eyes had appeared so rarely throughout history that only a few had existed in thousands of years. The previous users had never encountered a technique they couldn't analyze, so they assumed the Six Eyes could see through everything. It was just that he had become the exception.

Gojo fell into deep thought, as if struck by a sudden intellectual blindness.

"But neither Gojo nor I attacked it during that interval," Geto noted.

"It must be that the damage one of you dealt to the spirit had a lingering effect. Even injuries count."

"I see. That makes your technique perfect for support. Add a healer, and you’d have the standard configuration for farming a boss," Geto joked.

*

In the end, Geto, in front of Fyodor and Gojo, used Cursed Spirit Manipulation to compress the unconscious Hanami into a sphere, which he then swallowed, successfully capturing the spirit.

Gojo stopped dwelling on the Six Eyes' failure to analyze the technique and curiously asked Geto, "What do cursed spirits taste like?"

With a pale complexion, Geto fought back the urge to vomit and said painfully, "Like a rag used to wipe up vomit, mud from a sewer, rotting food..."

"Ugh, how disgusting. Stop describing it." Gojo shook off his goosebumps.

Geto gave a bitter smile. Others found the mere description unbearable, yet he had to experience it firsthand.

Fyodor nudged Geto gently with his elbow. Geto turned to look at the dark-haired youth walking beside him. "What is it?"

The dark-haired youth held out his right hand. Gojo, shouting "What, what?" leaned in to look. Geto was puzzled, but he held his hand out beneath Fyodor’s.

Fyodor opened his fingers, and a brightly wrapped glass candy dropped into Geto’s palm.

Geto froze. A sour, warm feeling surged through his limbs, and his emotions were complex. He had always been too well-behaved, mature, and steady since he was a child, never causing adults worry, serving as a role model for everyone around him. Gradually, it seemed everyone felt that Suguru Geto had no needs of his own and only took from him. Geto, who demanded of himself that the strong must protect the weak, had grown accustomed to this.

But people were not made of stone. Hearts were flesh; they could be touched, they could feel sadness, and they needed comfort and help.

The candy given by the dark-haired youth was like a stone dropped into a calm pond, creating ripples in Geto’s heart. If this were a game, Fyodor would have seen Geto’s favorability rating for him skyrocket.

Of course, touched as he was, Geto was not the type of person to be completely swayed by a single candy. If Geto had been that kind of person, Fyodor would wake up laughing in his sleep.