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“You excited?” Gojo asks brightly as they clip their seatbelts. “Your first solo mission is a big deal. That’s what that second grade status gets you… More work!”
“Salmon,” Toge huffs. He leans against the backseat window as Ijichi starts the car.
“Don’t worry. I won’t infringe,” Gojo smiles at the kid over his shoulder. “I’m there to observe and photograph for my scrapbook. I’m so proud!”
“Salmon,” he repeats, just as neutrally.
“Oh okay,” Gojo huffs. “I guess you’re right. Curses don’t show up in pictures so- Man, I should’ve made a sign, like a first day of school thing-”
“Bonito flakes,” Toge says pointedly.
“Teenagers,” Gojo rolls his eyes. “Aaanyway… I don’t think you’ll have too hard of a time with this one, but I don’t have all the details. Personally, I wouldn’t bother with these capitalist sellouts that created their own problem, but the higher-ups requested you. Who am I to deny a little extra training?”
“Kelp?”
“Ah, you ever wonder why you’ll find so many cursed spirits around workplaces? Especially the dismal, cram-packed-cubicle types?” Gojo raises two fingers on each hand and crosses them over each other to form a square in the space in the middle.
Toge nods.
“Well, the upper echelon likes to cut corners, costs, and lifespans, sooooo… They ignore labor laws and stress their workers to exhaustion, thus accumulating a treasure trove of cursed energy,” Gojo explains.
He can see Toge raise his eyebrows subtly in the rear view mirror.
“Management is prone to corruption, you know? Politicians, CEOs, anyone with more power than they can handle, really,” Gojo adds. “And I’m not excluding the jujutsu government in that statement.”
“Uh, Gojo,” Ijichi swallows nervously. “I-”
“Relax.”
“Mustard leaf?” Toge asks.
“I’m just saying a few old geezers have been pocketing profits from questionable sources, and the tax is befalling actual sorcerers,” Gojo crosses his arms.
“I don’t think-”
“Ijichi, expect to run my errands next week for your insubordination.”
“I always run your errands,” He sighs.
“Anyway, that’s not all they’re doing,” Gojo continues. “Their conservatism only gets more noticeable as they refuse to change with the times. Simple, traditional techniques are being out populated by more powerful ones and it scares them; not because of the destructive potential, but the threat to their control.”
“Gojo-”
“You better listen up too,” He lowers his sunglasses at Ijichi, who gulps as he takes his eyes off the road for a split second to glance nervously.
“It pisses me off,” Gojo says flatly. “And it’s an important lesson to learn. If you can’t spot it in the history books, in the news, or right in front of your face, you’re not going to be able to do shit.”
“Salmon,” Inumaki furrows his brow.
“You get it!” Gojo grins. The kid seemed to have a good sense with this kind of stuff already, which makes sense. It’s not rare for the strongest of a clan to become disillusioned with the faulty basis for its existence.
Ijichi loosens his collar with one finger. He’s starting to sweat. “Gojo, I really don’t think you should be-”
“Cool your lid, old friend,” Gojo laughs as he shakes his head. “I think we can trust him not to squeal, can’t we?”
“Salmon.” Toge puts up a stalwart peace sign.
“I… don’t think that’s a phrase…” Ijichi mumbles. “It’s ‘cool your jets’ or ‘flip your lid,’ I believe.”
“Uh-huh,” Gojo taps his fingernail on the dashboard impatiently.
“The building’s already been evacuated so don’t worry about bystanders,” Ijichi tells Toge, reading the mission details off his ipad.
“Have some fun with it,” Gojo chimes in, leaning against the car. The damp mood emanating off that future supercenter-shopping-whatever is very clear.
“Be careful though,” Ijichi says, deeply concerned. “It’s possible there’s a semi-grade two in there.”
“Salmon, salmon,” Toge waves him off.
Ijichi opens his mouth to blather about something else, but the kid’s already on his way in, so he exhales sadly and casts the veil.
“You worry too much,” Gojo chides.
“Sorry, sir,” Ijichi bows. “Something just doesn’t sit right with me every time I could be taking a young sorcerer to their death.”
“Why don’t you quit then?” Gojo tilts his head. “You’d do fine in any old office job.”
“I… don’t know if I could live with myself if I did that…” He murmurs.
“Hm.”
“Forgive me-”
“Well, it’s not your fault,” Gojo shrugs. “You’re completely replaceable. If you gave up, someone else would take your place by the end of the day. It doesn’t matter. You’re not why we’re here and there’s nothing you can do about it. You have no reason to be guilty.”
“I…” Ijichi gulps. “Okay.”
Gojo reaches over and covers his ears just before there’s an “explode,” muffled by the curtain. Ijichi flinches.
“Ha.”
Purplish gore is subtly visible as it splatters on the veil. Gojo grins. Toge’s ability is impressive when he doesn’t have to hold back. It’s rare to see. The higher-ups are so strict about his training on campus.
It shouldn’t be much longer until the whole building is cleared. The ground trembles a bit after he says “get crushed.” Then, there’s a quiet “stop,” which is quickly followed up with a “snap in half.”
Gojo expects the veil to collapse automatically after that, but it holds up.
He doesn’t feel Toge’s cursed energy for a few seconds. Then, there’s a raspy, hardly audible “fall.”
“Iijchi, release the veil, please,” Gojo says calmly, standing up straight.
“Yes, sir.”
Toge collapses to his knees as a rat-esque curse topples over, flat on its face, or whatever you call that mass of teeth and eyes. He opens his mouth to deal another blow, but Gojo pinches two fingers together and crushes it from a distance, breaking the shop window behind the thing too with the shockwave.
Toge looks over his shoulder, blood running down his chin. Gojo smiles and waves. “Just wanted to see the grand finale!”
“Aah-” Ijichi turns around and rushes for the first aid supplies in the trunk.
“Mustar-” Toge’s shoulders hitch and he hacks violently. Blood comes out in a propelled burst, baptising the ground in front of him like spraypaint.
“Ouch,” Gojo mutters, closing the gap between them in a few long strides. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. “Here.”
“Sa-” He coughs again. “S-”
“Don’t bother.” Gojo crouches and pats him on the back. He points with his other hand. “Is that our culprit?”
There’s a massive beast-like curse towards the end of the corridor. It was probably bear-shaped earlier, but it’s pretty beat up, and in two pieces. It’s still alive though, and trying to heal itself. The energy coming off it is strong, along with a scent that’s reminiscent of rotten coffee.
Toge nods.
Gojo’s mouth forms a line as he stands. He flicks the air, firing a bullet of blue from between his index fingernail and thumb. He narrows his gaze.
The blast enters through what must be the thing’s ear and detonates as it collides with the cursed energy circling the curse’s walnut brain.
It disintegrates into indigo ash.
“You eliminated the rest of the threats, yes?” He turns to Toge, who hums affirmatively in response.
“Good! Just making sure the old blues are working.” Gojo taps his blindfold.
“Where are you bleeding?” Ijichi appears, holding the med kit.
“Bonito… f-flakes…” Toge rasps, clutching his neck. Two streams of red drip out his nostrils as well.
“Bandaids aren’t gonna help.” Gojo kneels again. “Some gauze would be good though.”
“Of course,” Ijichi complies shakily.
Gojo pinches the bridge of Toge’s nose tightly once he gets the cotton in place to soak up the flow. Toge holds the handkerchief to his lips, swallowing repeatedly like he’s trying to hold everything in.
Which is a terrible idea.
He gags and spits up a mouthful of crimson that splatters onto the ground. Coagulated bits from the scabs starting to form on his vocal cords add texture and stick to his teeth.
“Here.” Gojo guides him to lean more forward, holding Toge up with his free hand. The kid pants exhaustedly.
“Is this normal?” Ijichi asks, passing Gojo a fresh square of gauze to replace the drenched one.
“After what he just fought? Yeah,” Gojo replies flatly. “The strength of cursed speech feedback is dependent on the strength of both your commands and your opponent… He wasn’t ready to take the damage from a first grade.”
“First grade?” Ijichi looks between the disappearing ash, Toge, and Gojo, starting to tremble a bit.
“Semi, maybe,” Gojo speculates. “I didn’t get a read on it before it was on its last leg.”
“There wasn’t anything in the report about-”
“Uh-huh,” He rolls his eyes. “Figures… I had a feeling, which is why I decided to come along today. The brass is too comfortable playing fast and loose with their own regulations when it comes to-”
“Um-”
“Whatever,” Satoru grinds his teeth, back and forth twice. “They could be a little more subtle with their undermining.”
“What-”
“Pause,” He raises his hand to Ijichi’s face like a stop sign, letting Toge sit back on his own. It’s good he’s keeping himself upright. “How’s that bleeding doing? Do you feel like you’re going to pass out if you get up?”
“Bonito flakes,” Toge breathes.
Gojo motions for Ijichi to pass him some more gauze, which he hands to Toge before pulling him to his feet.
“Hold that there in case it’s still going,” Gojo taps the tip of his nose. He keeps his hand on his back, slowly walking him toward the car. He seems unsteady, but he doesn’t fall.
“Tuna?” Toge asks hoarsely.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Gojo tells him. “You did good today. You would’ve been able to finish it alone, but I bet your throat was sore enough already.”
“Salmon…” He whispers.
“I- Uh… I wouldn’t have thought you were the type to deal with injuries,” Ijichi says awkwardly as Gojo shuts the backseat door after helping Toge get in.
Gojo raises an eyebrow. “I have a responsibility to make sure my students are safe.”
“Yes, of course,” Ijichi bows apologetically. “Sorry. I just mean I usually see you in the battle, not as support-”
“Well, I don’t usually get the pleasure,” Gojo replies flatly as he rounds the vehicle. “Who in their right mind wouldn’t put me on the front lines, right?”
“Oh, um,” Ijichi fiddles with his keys, then turns around suddenly to put the first aid kit away, face slightly red.
Gojo exhales heavily as he sits down in the passenger seat. He glances at Toge, who’s laying down across the row. He clips his seatbelt.
The ocean of jujutsu has always had choppy waters, but the tides are really changing now. Those who can’t accept that they’re obsolete are only making it worse, and it’s going to boil over once the meaning of their artificial status has been nullified.
That’s what they deserve though.
In the meantime, keeping their petty bullshit to a minimum is key, since petty when you’re that unprincipled is pitiless. They’ll pay for it eventually. And Gojo can’t ignore the nagging sensation that, somehow, they'll crash themselves into the debt collector sooner rather than later.