Chapter 25

The three returned to the highway and stood by the roadside for ten minutes, unable to hail a single car.

Jujutsu High was located in a remote area, and since it was already night, vehicles rarely passed through here, let alone those empty and available—unless a passenger happened to be heading in this direction.

"Why don't we just walk back?" Gojo Satoru suggested, his voice drawn out as he let out a yawn.

Geto Suguru instinctively glanced at Fyodor. If it were just him and Gojo, it wouldn't be a problem, but with Fyodor... it was hard to say.

When Gojo received no response, he turned his head, followed Geto's gaze to Fyodor, and realized the situation. "Tch, Fyodor, let me carry you." As he spoke, he walked up to the dark-haired youth and knelt on one knee.

Fyodor replied, "I am not as fragile as you imagine."

Although he had used his ability on Hanami earlier, it had taken place within a mental space, so the toll was minimal. His body was essentially in a state of Schrödinger’s weakness: it appeared to be running low on "battery," yet he could still function even if he were truly exhausted; his body would simply protest with sensations of discomfort, fatigue, and lethargy. After all, his abdominal muscles were not just for show.

Of course, Fyodor would never voice this. Maintaining an outward facade of frailty would lower their guard toward him.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just get on," Gojo urged dismissively.

Geto remained silent. Clearly, like Gojo, he did not believe Fyodor’s rare moment of honesty, assuming Fyodor was merely toughing it out, not wanting to trouble others, or perhaps held back by pride.

Well, it seemed his deliberate display of weakness before the two of them had been quite successful—perhaps a bit too successful.

The dark-haired youth sighed helplessly and asked, "Geto-kun, do you have any Cursed Spirits that can be used for transport?"

He remembered from the manga that Geto often stood atop flying Cursed Spirits, and in later appearances, he almost always "descended from the sky."

Geto let out an "ah."

Gojo whipped his head around to look at Geto. It seemed they had both caught onto something through Fyodor's implication.

In reality, the number of Cursed Spirits Geto had tamed before entering the school was small, and their grades were generally low—the high-grade ones were all humanoid, like the Kuchisake-onna. Naturally, they were not large enough to be considered for transport.

It was only after entering Jujutsu High and receiving formal education—the difference between being guided by a master and fumbling on one's own is significant, unless one is a super-genius—that he began to grow. While Geto was indeed a genius, having guidance acted like wings on a tiger, accelerating his growth. Combined with official intelligence reports, he had tamed a vast number of Cursed Spirits during that period. The Rainbow Dragon he used so frequently later on was actually tamed during his second year.

It had to be said that the Rainbow Dragon was truly useful; with its thick hide, it could serve as a shield, and it could traverse the skies and the earth, making it an excellent mount. It was no wonder Geto used it so often.

"Whoa!" Gojo stood up straight, his eyes sparkling as he stared at Geto in excitement.

Fyodor watched Geto as well.

Under the intense scrutiny of two pairs of eyes, Geto searched his memory and managed to find two Cursed Spirits suitable for transport. One looked like an eagle, and the other resembled a manta ray; both were Grade 2 spirits, and both could fly.

Considering Fyodor's physical condition, Geto suggested, "Gojo and I will have the eagle carry us, and Fyodor can ride on the manta ray."

Gojo had no objections; he only wanted to experience the sensation of flight as soon as possible. Since they both agreed, Fyodor, following the principle of the minority deferring to the majority, voiced no objection either.

"Woo-hoo!"

The eagle Cursed Spirit flapped its wings and surged into the night sky. A powerful sensation of weightlessness washed over them. Far from being afraid, Gojo let out an exhilarated cry; it was clear he was truly enjoying himself. Geto was more reserved, but his expression betrayed a mood just as joyful as Gojo’s.

Perhaps only Fyodor felt nothing.

The pale clouds, stained with the hues of dusk, were right beside him, close enough to touch if he reached out. A scene surfaced in Fyodor's mind:

"He" was sitting by the porthole, turning his head to look at the thick, encroaching darkness outside. A flight attendant pushed a meal cart to his row, and the passenger beside him said, "A bottle of water, please."

"Certainly, sir."

"And the gentleman by the window?" After handing the water to the first passenger, the flight attendant looked at the young man sitting innermost by the porthole and asked.

"He" did not speak, as if lost in thought. The man beside him nudged him gently. "The attendant is asking if you want anything."

"He" said something inexplicably: "---, is it not ready yet?" A small machine hidden under the hair by his ear flashed a red light.

The porthole reflected a blurred image of the plane's interior, showing the confusion on the flight attendant's face. "Sir, what did you say...?"

"Ah!"

Suddenly, screams erupted from the front of the plane, one after another.

Then came the sound of several gunshots.

"He" finally deigned to withdraw his gaze from the window. At that moment, the intercom crackled to life:

"Ahem, hello, hello? Can everyone hear me? Good, no need to answer, I know you can. Flight MU7... wait, 7 what was it again—*smack!*"

The sound of a loud slap echoed through the speakers.

"Oh my, did he really pass out completely? How troublesome... Anyway, this flight has been hijacked by the famous Super Magician! Everyone, please, do not do anything rash!"

As the voice faded, an uproar broke out.

"What? Hijacked?!"

"Oh my god, call the police, call the police!"

The person sitting next to "him" reacted differently than those around them, calmly reaching toward their waist. However, "he" was faster, instantly pressing the cold muzzle of a gun against the other's temple.

*Bang.* Blood bloomed before his eyes.

He felt the warmth of the liquid splash onto his face, the scent of thick, metallic blood lingering at the tip of his nose.

...

"Fyodor, the wind is a bit strong. Are you cold?"

His soul jolted. Fyodor awoke from the profound hallucination.

Facing Geto’s concerned inquiry, he suppressed the shock in his heart and replied calmly, "I am wearing both your and Gojo-kun's coats, so of course I am not cold. What about you two?"

Gojo’s boisterous voice rang out, "This little breeze can't knock me down."

Geto also indicated that he was fine.

As it turned out, he caught a fever the very next day.