I press my back against the wall. Cold seeps through my dress and a shiver races down my spine. I’m ready to explode with fury. Overwhelming power builds in my core, threatening to combust at any moment.

  Satoshi fucking Gojo is sitting in my dorm, eyes tracking every rise and fall of my chest, fingers loosely knotted together over his stomach. A solid wall of muscle that could easily crush me.

  I blink and he’s in my face. When did he move? I should scream. Sakura will hear me. She’ll come. But could she really deal with Infinity? No. The only known way to bypass Infinity is domain amplification or the Ten Shadows technique, and she has neither. There’s no point.

  My shoulders fall and I suck in a deep breath.

  “Why are you—”

  His hand whips out, wrapping around my chin, lifting my head as he studies the fresh scar on my lip. My eyes nearly bulge out of my skull. I start to lean away from him and his arm clamps around my waist, rooting me in place.

  The room is still as stagnant water. The only sound being our mingled breath. Satoshi stares down at me, fire blazing in the electric-blue of his irises.

  “Are you alright?” he asks, jaw clenching.

  My temper snaps, like a red-hot poker being stabbed into a bucket of water.

  “That’s what you’re asking?!” I thrust my palms out, they connect with his chest and I turn to stone. Anger dissolving instantly. “Infinity. You don’t have it active?”

  My hands stay frozen against him. His heartbeat thrumming beneath my fingertips. My world narrows to the warmth of his body. I expected him to be ice-cold like his attitude. A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. That godsforsaken smile. My knees threaten to buckle, and suddenly the room feels too small. Too warm. My heart pumps violently behind my ribs.

  “You couldn’t move fast enough to hurt me, Renegade.” He murmurs. My eyes track the bob of his throat as he speaks.

  Then his words settle in my brain. Arrogant bastard. A vein in my forehead pulses. Of fucking course—he’s so fast I can’t track him. He’s right, but I don’t have to like it. I jerk my head away, forcing air out my nose.

  “Why the fuck are you in my room, Gojo?” I snap, ripping my hands from his chest.

  “Since I can’t trust you to look after yourself, I came here—” his gaze hones in on the jacket folded over my arm—Aki’s jacket. “That’s Fuju’s.”

  “Wow. Nothing gets past those keen Six Eyes of yours, huh?”

  He shoots me a glare and releases me. His hands fall away from my chin and waist.

  “Why do you have it?” He snarls as he drags a hand through his hair, eyes darting from the piece of clothing to my face and back again.

  What the hell is his problem? It’s just a jacket, not that it’s any of his concern whose clothes keep me warm.

  “Aki was throwing himself over me all night, but when I was almost frozen to the bone on the walk back, he gave me his jacket.” I cross my arms over my chest, brow curving.

  I don’t know why I’m explaining myself to him. Maybe it’s because I’m in a confined space with the one person who could destroy the country if he wanted to or maybe it’s curiosity.

  He takes a step back, and the absence of his proximity hits me like a bullet to the chest. I shouldn’t notice. I shove the thought down into the depths of hell. Where it can fucking burn.

  The dim light casts long shadows over his face as he paces back and forth, shoes clacking against the hard wood.

  “What’s it got to do with you?” I purse my lips.

  He goes unnaturally still before turning to me with a cruel smirk. “Absolutely nothing.” He clips. His hands find his pockets, and his jaw ticks as he glances away.

  I almost suffocate from the silence that follows, my lips part. He cuts me off with a sharp leer.

  “I can’t track Sora. He’s gone.” He says finally.

  Gone. Not dead. Vanished.

  A bead of sweat rolls down my temple, and my stomach twists into knots. Sora is out there, probably waiting to get revenge. He’s not dumb enough to go after Satoshi. But he is brave enough to come for me.

  “How is he hiding from you? The Six Eyes can track everything, everywhere.”

  His mouth opens and closes a few times before he doubles over laughing, the sound resonating through my body, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin.

  I blink rapidly. Irritation flaring deep in my bones. I drag my fingernails across my cheek. He’s laughing like my life isn’t in immediate danger. Fan-fucking-tastic. I thought he couldn’t become more of a dick. I was painfully wrong.

  “You think I can see cursed energy everywhere? Is that what you heard?” He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, before straightening, biting his lip, teeth grazing the soft flesh. Gods. No. Bad Ren.

  “I can see cursed energy signatures over a few kilometres. Once a sorcerer goes out of range, I can’t track them. If he were trying to conceal himself, it would be a different story.” He lets out a shaky breath as amusement lines his eyes. “That myth about the Six Eyes has been around for centuries. It’s bullshit. Don’t always believe the rumours, Renegade.”

  I grit my teeth, hands falling from my chest and curling into fists at my sides.

  Satoshi twists and strolls to gaze out of the frosted window, his breath creating streaks of condensation. Moonlight catching on his sharp features. I’d been too distracted by his intrusion, outburst and mocking to notice he had his sunglasses off. Dark circles sit under his eyes, and his shoulders are tense as he drags a long finger down the clouded glass. The motion causing a soft squeak to fill the room. He’s breathtaking.

  The air in my throat stutters and I swallow. Hard. My mouth is as dry as sand baking under the sun. I shake whatever attraction surges in me into oblivion.

  My gaze darkens, “Why tell me about Sora?” Every muscle coils tight in my body, ready to strike. I’m treading dangerous ground. He saved me. But he wants me dead. He’s warning me. But he would rather kill me himself.

  “Because—only cowards attack from the shadows. He does not deserve to breathe in your direction let alone touch you.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the starry sky. “You should keep your guard up. Never let it down. Not even around your friends.”

  “Does that include you?” I raise my chin, my tone stays sharp and challenging. He glances back at me, gaze raking up and down.

  “Especially around me.”

  The pressure in the room nosedives, wood groaning, windows spiderwebbing. I breathe deeply, reining in my temper. I know better than to lose control, but that doesn’t stop the heat that floods through my veins. Satoshi doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move.

  “Learn to control that, Renegade.” He turns slowly to face me, lacing his fingers together. “Emotion won’t save you in the dead zones.”

  My lips part to argue, but the words turn to ash in my throat as Satoshi slams his palms together and melts into the night, leaving me heaving in the cold room, eyes wild. He fucking teleported away mid conversation.

  “Why are you following me?” I glance sideways at Hiro, as we make our way to the vault deep underground Jujutsu High. Our footsteps echo off the stone floor, ancient lights flicker ominously, sending shadows skittering up the moss covered walls.

  “Because we’re friends, aren’t we?” He shoots me a grin, flashing a dimple.

  “You and I both know that’s not the reason.” I fix him with a flat stare, and the bastard has the audacity to shrug.

  It’s not that I don’t like him, he’s kind, cautious, incredibly smart and funny. He makes it difficult to despise him, despite the reason he’s following me being Satoshi. The guy is always close by, keeping a hand on my back or in my shadow. Two days. Two days until I go into the dead zone with Satoshi, and I’ve got Hiro stuck to me like a vengeful spirit.

  “Until you can handle yourself, I’m on guard duty.”

  I still. Turn to him slowly, face radiating thunder. “I can handle myself.”

  He shakes his head and chuckles, the motion making his copper hair shine different shades of red under the dim lighting. “Tell that to the scar on your lip.” There’s no malice in his tone, but that doesn’t stop the ice that creeps up my spine at the memory of Sora’s attack. My fingers tremble as they press over the smooth scar.

  Five days since Sora burned me—and since Satoshi killed for me.

  Five days since his Infinity came down and I felt his heartbeat under my palms. I haven’t seen him since that night.

  “Shit, sorry Ren. I didn’t mean to trigger you.” He rubs the back of his neck, eyes darting wildly around the empty corridor.

  My shoulders are already tense when Hiro reaches for the heavy mahogany doors leading to the vault.

  I know he mean anything by it, but my body doesn’t care about intent. Since that night, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling of dread that rips through me every time someone glances at or mentions the scar.

  Naturally the whole school knows Sora attacked me—hard to hide a fresh scar and three missing students. What they don’t know is that Satoshi killed the other two, or that he even stepped in. Other than my inner circle. And Aki. Because of course Aki would know everything.

  “It’s fine, it’s not your fault.” I exhale shakily, letting my shoulders droop. “I feel like a fucking damsel, needing saving like that.” The admission shocks me and my eyes widen. Hiro curves a brow and nods.

  “Understandable.” He shoves the door open, wood scrapes against the concrete floor. The sound sets my teeth on edge. “What are we here for, anyway?”

  Hiro rests a hand on my back and ushers me through the threshold into the vault.

  Thank Izanami for the change in topic. I trust Hiro more than I do Satoshi, but I still need to process what happened and I’ve been doing a godsdamned good job of ignoring the problem until it goes away.

  Gods I hope he doesn’t bring up Sora again.

  “I won’t, it’s not worth talking about.”

  I frown and tilt my head.

  “I didn’t realise I said that out loud.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  He nods, gripping his chin. “Your thoughts are probably all over the place, it’s been one hell of a week.” He shrugs as he steps towards the weapons rack, running a finger along the blade of a tanto. Not even blinking as a bead of blood wells at his fingertip. He twists to glance at me. I’m already scanning the room for the archives Fushiguro-Sensei mentioned.

  “So, back to my earlier question. Why are we here?” He presses.

  My gaze snags on the rolls of parchment tucked away in a dusty corner across the vault. I step closer, brushing cobwebs aside, and the scent of aged paper and mildew assaults my nose.

  “Archives. Fushiguro-Sensei mentioned that there are records of techniques stashed away down here. Thought I’d check if there’s anything on Sora’s technique.”

  “Smart. That’s why people like you,” Hiro smirks, before turning to study the cursed tools again.

  I scan the shelf, squinting at the faded ink labels. They’re organised by surname—alphabetical, thank the gods. My fingers trace along the weathered wood, gathering dust in their wake until I find it: Yomizaki clan. I shimmy the scroll free from between two others. As I turn to leave, my eyes snag on the “G” section across the shelf. One scroll stands out—much older, golden ink shining in the dim light. Gojo clan.

  My hands tingle with anticipation. I look back over my shoulder to check on Hiro—who is now poking the tip of a samurai sword with his finger. Perfect. I snatch the second parchment and stuff it into my jacket.

  Hiro’s feet tap over the stone floor. He slides in behind me, breathing down my neck. “Find what you were looking for?” His hand finds my shoulder, and his piercing blue gaze flits sideways over my face. A bead of sweat gathers on my forehead.

  I hum in agreement, and I pull my jacket tighter around myself, shrugging him off as I cross to the desk in the middle of the room, the Yomizaki scroll in hand. Hiro follows closely, leaning over the shiny wood, resting his elbows on the surface. I plant myself in one of the emerald wing-backed chairs, sinking into the velvety smooth fabric. I could sit here all day. It’s like sitting on a cloud. I let out a long sigh, feeling every ache deep in my bones. I need a good night’s sleep, and a steam room. The stolen scroll pressed close to my chest crinkles with the fabric as I lean forward. I cough into my hand to cover the sound.

  Hiro lifts a brow in my direction. I gesture around the vault waving my hand. “Dust,” I murmur.

  “Uh huh,” he replies, lips twitching. “You know if you wanted to know about Satoshi, you could just ask me instead of becoming a thief.” My heart hammers against my ribs as my eyes dart around the large empty space. “Don’t quit sorcery for a life of crime.” He snorts as he tilts his chin in the direction of the scrolls. “The Gojo clan scrolls stand out like a sore thumb in here. You might as well be holding a neon sign.”

  He reaches up and tugs the scroll from my jacket. “And the scroll was poking out near your neck.” Heat spreads to my cheeks and I avoid his eyes, stomach twisting with guilt.

  He unrolls the parchment and uses a clouded glass orb as a paperweight, the light flickers and catches against the sphere, coating the desk in a kaleidoscope pattern.

  “I—I just wanted—“I force air out of my nose, but my eyes find the inked text. Curiosity steals the words from my mouth.

  Gojo clan archives: Property of Jujutsu High.

  [CONFIDENTIAL]

  Known applications of Limitless:

  Infinity: The neutral application of Limitless, acting as an impenetrable, passive barrier that stops any attack before it makes contact by dividing the space between the user and an object/attack infinitely, making the distance effectively endless (similar to Zeno’s paradox).

  Lapse Blue: centred around infinitely converging space to a single point to create a void-like effect, resulting in a powerful, attractive force. At maximum output, Blue’s field of attraction can clear out entire areas.

  Reversal Red: the cursed technique reversal of the Limitless. By generating positive energy the effect of the strengthened technique is reversed, representing the concept of divergence brought forward to reality, producing a strong repulsion rather than attraction.

  Ultimate Technique: [REDACTED]

  My fingers trace the dried ink, feeling every raise and imperfection. I scoff at the redacted information. Even now he has secrets.

  Hiro glances down at the paper, smirking.

  “Ah, that.”

  “You know what his ultimate technique is?”

  “I do.” he nods. “But you’ll have to ask him, that’s a Gojo clan secret that’s passed down.”

  I fight the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes and huff.

  “Don’t pout,” Hiro says, tapping the scroll. “Keep reading. It gets interesting.”

  Domain Expansion: ‘Infinite Void’, visuals vary per user’s innate technique and manifestation of their soul. The domain overloads the target’s brain with infinite information, rendering them helpless and immovable, whilst trapped inside. The only known target to survive the effects of Infinite Void is Ryomen Sukuna during the Culling Games incident leading to Satoru Gojo’s defeat.

  Rare Innate Gift Six Eyes: A non-standard jujutsu trait that manifests as a pair of bright blue eyes, granting the bearer extrasensory perception. This includes seeing the flow of cursed energy in extreme detail and the ability to use that flow to read cursed techniques. The eyes also allow for ultra-precise control over the user’s cursed energy, which is indispensable for properly utilising the Limitless technique.

  [ANECDOTE 1]: The Six Eyes were always bound to Master Tengen and the Star Plasma Vessel by fate. This connection was severed by Toji Fushiguro in 2006, which eventually lead to the sealing of Satoru Gojo.

  [ANECDOTE 2]: Satoshi Gojo (2029) is the first known Six Eyes user to not be bound by fate and the Star Plasma Vessel.

  I read and re-read the last line. He’s not chained by fate. My breath hitches. Tengen died in 2018 and his remains only held the barriers until 2025, there isn’t any need for Star Plasma Vessels anymore.

  “What does this mean?” I point impatiently to the paragraph. Hiro leans over and cocks his head to one side.

  “Nobody knows. Okkotsu tried to figure it out when Toshi was born, but he couldn’t find any other information, even with the secret clan archives at the Gojo estate.”

  Two lines form between my brows. “Nothing? No reasons at all?” I slump forward, resting my head on my fist, elbows digging into the wood of the desk.

  “Nope.” He pops the ‘p’, making my eye twitch.

  No fate to bind him, no destiny. Infinite power and no one to guide him. I’m not sure if that makes him the luckiest or the loneliest person alive.

  I groan, gritting my teeth. My brain finally catches up with the conversation. Toshi. Hiro has called Satoshi that every time we’ve spoken.

  “Just how close are you with Satoshi?” I glance up at him, meeting those eyes that bore through me, like he can see every secret.

  “He saved my life when I was ten—eight years ago, now.” He looks over at the cursed tools lining the walls and runs a finger along the waxed surface of the desk. “I was cornered by a cursed spirit in one of the dead zones—an orphan, living on the streets, no one coming to help. He exorcised it with raw cursed energy and took me to Okkotsu—the current clan head, and the Gojo clan took me in and raised me as one of their own. Toshi is like a brother to me. I’d die for him.”

  My jaw drops, and I snap it shut as he glances back to me. He’d die for Satoshi. The same Satoshi that told me you are alive because I allow it. My thoughts spiral round and round, trying to connect the dots. We can’t be thinking of the same person. I lean back in the chair, letting the soft fabric bounce against my back. I scratch at my cheek.

  “You doing good there?” Hiro bites his lip, corners of his mouth lifting. “Your worldview shattered because Toshi isn’t as he seems?” Laughter laces his tone.

  I pin my hands to my lap to stop the wave of emotion from unravelling me. I force air in and out of my lungs as I bring my gaze to meet Hiro’s.

  “You’d die for him?” I swallow the ash that coats my tongue. “Why?”

  Hiro’s smile fades into a thin line. He pulls out the chair from across me, the wooden feet screeching against the stone sends a shudder through me. He lowers himself onto the seat and plants his elbows on the desk interlacing his fingers.

  “Because the person who saved me—terrified, bleeding, ten years old—didn’t do it for duty or glory. He was twelve. He could’ve walked away. Hell, everyone else did. But he didn’t.” My eyes flare wide as I gape at him. “He wasn’t always like this—cold and cruel. I mean. He used to be like any other kid. Learning the world, focusing on his technique, making friends. Then the Higher-ups summoned him. Sent him on missions that should’ve killed him. Shaped him into a shell of the person he was before.” He sighs deeply and clenches his jaw. “Caring in this world gets you hurt. You know that. So he stopped. Sometimes a flicker comes through, and deep down he’s still the same Toshi. But this life hardened him and stripped away parts of his soul. It was like being around a ghost... Until enrolment trials.”

  My stomach plummets into the floor. Enrolment trials—the day that we first met. I nearly died. Fuck, I did die, and he carried me out. I don’t remember anything else.

  “What happened? Why did he change?”

  I needed to know, like how you need oxygen in your lungs. It wasn’t a want. If I’ve been wrong about Satoshi this whole time—

  I can’t finish the thought. Bile rises in my throat. My hand shakes as I bring it to my mouth.

  “I can’t tell you, Ren.” He reaches for me and rests his palm over my knuckles. My eyes flick down. He’s so—warm. “But I can say this much, give him a chance. He might surprise you.”

  Any sentences I thought of forming turned to dust in my throat. I want to scream. I want to cry until I can’t breathe. Have I been wrong this whole time? No. He told me he wanted me dead. He told me—

  Hiro shoots forward, snapping his fingers in front of my face, his other hand still resting over mine. “In and out. Breathe. You formed an opinion of him based on what he’s shown you. And what he shows everyone? Yeah.” His lips curve upwards into a soft smile. “If I didn’t know him, I’d think he hates me too.”

  Sweat slicks my palms, and I idly pick at the corner of the aged parchment. I draw my hand back from his and flicker my gaze away.

  “I need to research Sora’s technique.” I clear my throat and pick at my nails before reaching for the rolled scroll. Panic seizes my heart. Please don’t make me talk about this. I don’t know how to handle it.

  Hiro stares at me and nods. I’m so fucking glad he didn’t continue that conversation. I force any emotion into the burning abyss that holds all my feelings.

  I flatten the old paper and use the cloudy glass orb from earlier to hold it in place. My fingers tremble as I run them over the printed text. Sora’s clan must’ve had the archives rewritten, they may not be the oldest clan but they’re certainly not the youngest. It doesn’t make sense that their archives are printed and not inked. They’ve been around since at least the Edo period.

  I cock my head to the side and my eyes flit to Hiro. He wears the same confused expression as me.

  “You think someone altered this?”

  He rises from his chair and steps to my right, scanning over the text, holding his chin.

  “It’s a possibility, but we can’t be certain. Every ranked sorcerer has access to the vault. Most of the archives are transcribed into a computer, but these older scrolls—” He gestures lazily to the ancient scrolls on the dusty shelf. “The older ones haven’t been transcribed, because clans like to keep their secrets about their techniques. Load of horseshit if you ask me.”

  I smother a laugh with my fist.

  “Well, let’s see what we can get from this and compare it to what we already know.”

  I twist in my seat and spot a pen and paper in the corner of the vault. Hiro places a large hand on my shoulder, pushing me back into the chair.

  “I’ve got it.”

  I blink.

  “You don’t have to—you’re my bodyguard, not slave.” I protest, rising from the velvet chair and immediately missing the warmth as a bitter breeze rolls through the room.

  I hate that Hiro is being forced to guard me like I’m some sort of liability. If I can make his duty easier then I will.

  “It’s just paper and a pen. Relax” He shoves me back with more force than necessary, and I huff as my spine hits the wing-back of the seat. I fold my arms over my chest.

  “And stop huffing, you sound like a child,” he chides.

  I narrow my eyes at him but drop the subject, tracking him as he strolls over to the stack of paper and lone pen tucked in a corner. He plucks both from their alcove and returns, placing them in front of me.

  “You’re welcome.” I don’t need to look at him to know he’s grinning at me like he won something.

  I flick over the scroll, taking notes as I go. The pen scratches against the paper at alarming speeds.

  Echo of suffering. Clan inherited technique. Touch-based damage manipulation. Technique must be released to remove effects (or is naturally released when cursed energy is depleted).

  This is all standard stuff. There’s no technique history. Just crap about the clan and what they stand for. Blood purity, loyalty, discipline.

  Hiro’s shoulders rise and fall as he breathes deeply, studying my notes and the scroll.

  “It’s been gutted of anything useful. There’s nothing we can do unless Sora suddenly switches to being your friend and divulges all his clan secrets to you,” he says grimly.

  For fuck’s sake. My blood boils. Back to the drawing board. Anyone openly close with Sora is dead—thanks to Satoshi, and as far as I’m aware nobody else really spoke to him. This is going to be exhausting.

  The door to the vault screeches open and Fushiguro-Sensei stands in the doorway. I haven’t seen him since I told him I hated him. My stomach ties itself into knots, and my back goes rigid.

  His dark-blue eyes flit over me and he nods.

  “Ren—” His words flicker out and die as he takes in the new scar on my lip and his jaw tightens.

  “I heard you were hurt. I didn’t know you were left permanently marked.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” I rise from the chair and roll up the scrolls handing them to Hiro wordlessly, and pocket the notes I made. He returns them to the alcove holding the others. “Fushi—Megumi,” I correct, and shock flashes over his controlled features. He cocks a brow at me, but doesn’t stop me from using his given name. “I’m sorry for telling you I hated you. I didn’t mean it. I was furious that I almost died to learn Reverse Cursed Technique.”

  His shoulders relax and he takes a deep controlled breath before meeting my gaze.

  “I’m not sorry you learned Reverse Cursed Technique,” he runs a hand through his greying black hair. “I am, however, sorry for my input and compliance in breaking your trust by letting Gojo force it upon you.”

  Hiro shifts awkwardly beside me, clearing his throat, and it occurs to me that we aren’t alone. I shouldn’t be this close with Fushiguro since he’s a teacher.

  Fuck.

  “Ren, we should get going,” he says stiffly. “Fushiguro-Sensei.” He bows his head and tugs my arm toward the exit.

  Fushiguro inclines his head politely and nods to me.

  As Hiro pulls me into the corridor, I glance back at Megumi one last time. The vault door begins to close, sealing away centuries of clan secrets—and apparently, the truth about Sora’s technique along with them.

  Two days until I’m alone with Satoshi Gojo in the Shibuya dead zone, and I’m no closer to figuring out anything about Sora or where he could be hiding. Hiro said that Satoshi is keeping an eye out for any cursed energy signatures crossing into his range, but there’s been nothing. Not even a flicker. I adjust my jacket sleeves with slick hands.

  I will find a way to protect myself.