White Zetsu's Logic

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"Satoru..."

Yaga grimaced as he looked at Gojo.

"Did you really know nothing about this absurd family situation with your student?"

Compared with ten years ago, Satoru Gojo, now wearing white bandages over his eyes, had matured far more than most people expected.

If he had seen such an interesting cursed spirit in high school, he would have rushed over and started interrogating it immediately.

Now, watching the harmless curse bouncing around Maki, Gojo only smiled faintly.

"Principal, Maki is still a Zenin by blood."

"You know how the Big Three Families are with one another."

"Besides, as a teacher, how could I go digging into a student's private information?"

Yaga paused, then looked at the former student who had once given him endless headaches with mixed emotions.

Itsuki ignored the farce in front of him and quietly observed the people from Jujutsu High.

Masamichi Yaga, stern and angular, now the principal.

Mei Mei, poised and sharp, with two braids and a purple uniform that left a memorable impression.

Itsuki looked at her a little longer. She had style.

Kento Nanami stood in a beige suit with a yellow spotted tie, his hair carefully combed and his whole appearance sober and reliable.

Nanami, the man Yuji Itadori would later call Nanamin.

After glancing over the other semi-Grade 1 sorcerers, Itsuki's gaze finally stopped on the so-called strongest.

Tall, white-haired, and smiling faintly, Satoru Gojo stood near the front.

For a brief instant, Itsuki's scarlet gaze flickered.

Behind the white bandages covering Gojo's eyes, there was an enormous surge of cursed energy.

At the same moment Itsuki shifted into his Mangekyo Sharingan, Gojo turned his gaze toward him.

"You damn cursed spirit!"

"How dare you speak to Geto-sama like that?"

Nanako, recovering from her shock, pulled out her phone and prepared to activate her cursed technique on White Zetsu.

"Stop."

Geto raised a hand to stop her and looked at Itsuki in the car, his expression uncertain.

Mysterious.

Troublesome.

That was how Suguru Geto judged Itsuki Zenin.

Itsuki tapped one finger lightly. The driver, whom everyone had unconsciously ignored, hurried out and opened the door for him.

A Grade 1 Zenin sorcerer.

Because of White Zetsu's existence, the Jujutsu High side had nearly overlooked him.

The respect on the driver's face showed none of the pride one would expect from a Grade 1 sorcerer.

He looked more like a servant.

"Geto," Itsuki said, walking toward him with a mild smile. "Didn't we agree that if you needed anything, you would come find me?"

"Ten years ago, you made that promise. Looks like you were only being polite."

"Of course not."

"I have spent the last ten years avoiding Jujutsu High's pursuit, so I rarely appear in Japan."

"Please don't take offense, clan head."

Geto narrowed his eyes and smiled the same kind of smile Itsuki wore.

"I was planning to visit quietly after some time."

Their exchange sounded as familiar as old friends meeting again after years apart.

"Hey, White Zetsu," Maki whispered, poking his side. "What is going on?"

"How does Brother Itsuki know that maniac?"

"Maniac?"

White Zetsu looked back at Maki with genuine surprise.

"Do you think that kid Itsuki is normal?"

Maki froze, unable to answer.

Just as the atmosphere began to ease, White Zetsu grinned and shouted at Nanako behind Geto.

"Don't just yap without doing anything. Show me what you can do."

White Zetsu planted his hands on his hips, spat at Larue's feet, and sneered.

"Bleach-job."

"You! You-!"

Nanako pointed at him, shaking with rage.

If not for Geto's earlier order, she would have exorcised this weak cursed spirit already.

Nanako did not move, but the bare-chested curse user beside her vanished from where he stood.

"Cursed spirit, do you want to die that badly?"

Larue's muscles swelled as he shot toward White Zetsu, his expression twisted with anger.

That elegant blond hair had been insulted as some cheap dye job.

And by a weak cursed spirit he could crush with one finger.

Who could tolerate that?

He raised a massive fist, ready to smash it down.

Maki tensed. She moved to block with her spear, only for White Zetsu to grab her arm.

Blood exploded in front of them like fireworks.

White Zetsu, who should have been hit, was completely unharmed.

The curse user who had attacked him had become a smear of blood on the ground.

White Zetsu turned to Maki and blinked.

"See? I was right."

"That kid Itsuki is way crazier than the long-haired monk."

Maki stared at him, dazed.

So he had provoked the enemy on purpose just to prove who was more insane?

White Zetsu's logic stunned everyone all over again.

Geto's outstretched hand froze in midair, and his expression visibly darkened.

Nanako and Mimiko immediately took battle stances.

They looked at the blood on the ground, then at Itsuki's smiling face.

Their bodies trembled slightly, fear impossible to hide.

A Grade 1 sorcerer, killed instantly.

And by a high-level spatial technique.

Gojo's face took on a faint seriousness.

The activation condition was probably the momentary change in those scarlet eyes.

In less than a second, Gojo's mind had already begun analyzing the information behind Kamui.

Special eyes, like his.

Interesting.

"Sorry, sorry."

"I dealt with a subordinate who disobeyed without asking first. You don't mind, do you?"

Itsuki said the words, but the smile on his face looked like mockery to everyone from Jujutsu High.

"My fault. I've spent too long inside the Zenin Clan. I forgot how people handle things outside it."

"You clearly told him not to move, but your subordinate didn't listen at all."

"A dog kept at your side that refuses to obey its master is a problem, isn't it?"

Seeing Geto lower his head in silence, Itsuki looked toward the driver beside him.

"Come here. Cut off your arm. Show my friend how a qualified subordinate behaves."

The Jujutsu High sorcerers went silent.

He was a Grade 1 jujutsu sorcerer. Surely an unreasonable order like that had to be a joke.

Right?

An entire left arm hit the ground.

The driver clutched the severed shoulder, cold sweat pouring down his face.

Except for Maki, every sorcerer present went rigid.

Even then, the driver still stood respectfully beside Itsuki.

Blood dripped to the ground.

There was not even resentment in his eyes.

Or perhaps he simply did not dare show any.

A breeze passed through, and no one from Jujutsu High felt any less cold.

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