“But your cursed technique was more suited to giving him a
human death.”
“I don’t want to be suited to that kind of job.”
“For now, let’s lower the curtain and request a clean-up. Handling stiffs isn’t my area,” Gojo said.
“You barely did anything this time!”
Nanami loosed a long sigh, and the room fell silent. The guardian lions, fake mummies, and vipers in formaldehyde remained enshrined in the room, which now had no master.
Had the room’s former master been human? Or a doll? By the time the sorcerers arrived, that was unclear. However, the bright blood running across the floor seemed to prove he was human.
Eventually, that too was wiped away, as if nothing had ever happened.
In the end, only silence remained in that remote underground den.
“They say a good doctor follows his own advice.”
Gojo had been silently swirling his drink for a while, and at first, Nanami didn’t realize the instructor was speaking to him.
“Does this pertain to the Doll Maker?”
“No, to sorcerers in general,” Gojo said. “Ultimately, handling
curses is about handling negative human emotions. It involves a lot of depressing work.”
“You’re talking about the danger of building up a curse within oneself?” inquired Nanami.
“Even if you get used to this line of work, it doesn’t feel good. Makes me wanna get drunk.”
“You ordered a Florida, right? That’s non-alcoholic,” Nanami said.
“I didn’t do anything, right? So I’m not the one who needs to get drunk.” Gojo stated outright.
“Don’t rub it in.”
Gojo laughed as he watched Nanami drain his gimlet.
“Nanami, you’re a little bit of a softy.”
“Where did that come from?”
“You know how to shut stuff out when necessary, but you’re not totally immune to it. Adults have ways of relieving the friction that creates. Like alcohol, the wonder drug,” Gojo said.
“This isn’t a pleasant conversation. Must we continue?”
“I’m not teasing you.”
Doubtful, Nanami looked at Gojo through his sunglasses. Gojo, he noticed, wasn’t wearing his customary smirk. Nanami said nothing.
“Humans give birth to curses, so the time will come when one of my students will face the ill will of somebody truly nasty,” Gojo said.
“Because they’re sorcerers.”
The world was an unfair place. Human ill will bred curses. All people, not just sorcerers, were capable of steeping themselves in bitterness, giving up, and drowning in lost hopes. Nanami knew that. And Gojo knew that Nanami was a man with such a past.
“We have ways of removing the poison that has circulated to our hearts,” Gojo said. “The young don’t have that skill. They’re too sensitive. At least once, that poison will break their hearts.”
“I suppose it’s the adults’ job to handle the poison that affects the young. As a teacher, you understand that, right?”
“Yes, I do. That’s why I came to talk to you.”
Gojo drained his glass and placed another order with the bartender. “Two Cinderellas.”
“You must be joking.” Nanami was disbelieving.
An excessively sweet drink. It was, of course, non-alcoholic, basically just a mix of juices.
Gojo directed his eyes to the shelf behind the bar and continued speaking. “There’s a kid I want to have you look after at some point.”
“Is it Fushiguro?”
“Yuji Itadori. You know him.”
“I heard he died.” said Nanami.
“He harbors the King of Curses, which is a far cry from some charlatan using dolls to bring back the dead.”
The bartender set two glasses on the counter. The liquid inside was amber, like the setting sun—though, given the drink’s name, maybe of a full moon would be more apt. Or the color of the hair on the head of the boy they were discussing.
The cocktail was saccharine, like an overly romantic fairy tale in which everyone lives happily ever after.
Gojo lifted his glass and swirled its contents. “I’m busy, so this chance to kick back and talk to you without interruption is precious.”
“I know you hate the jujutsu world at the moment, but I side with the regulations now. I don’t know what you have in mind regarding Sukuna’s vessel, but …”
“I don’t mean Sukuna’s vessel,” Gojo said. “I’m talking about the kid named Yuji Itadori.”
“His situation is not so simple that we can ignore the obvious when talking about him.”
“Yuji’s an all right kid.” Gojo ran his finger around the rim of his glass. A faint, high sound, like that of a stringed instrument, rang out. “He’s determined and brave. And he’s decisive in a fight. Nonetheless, he’s a bit too upright sometimes. I’m worried that it will break his heart eventually.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Nanami asked.
“I told you. I’m busy, so I can’t promise I’ll be able to give him the necessary spiritual guidance. If I could hand him off to you sometime, it’d help.”
“And you think I’ll do you this favor?”
“That’s why I’m asking. Whether he’s a sorcerer or Sukuna’s vessel, you’re an adult who can help him grow up healthy.” Gojo was always flippant, careless and half-joking, but that was precisely why you could tell when he was serious. “I need someone who understands the suffering people go through. Someone like you.”
“Did you come all the way here to sweet-talk me?”
“Well, you know I have a taste for sweets.” Laughing, Gojo tilted his glass toward Nanami.
The cocktail was sweet, sour, and glistening amber. Nanami stared at it in silence, as if it contained the precariousness of youth.
“I’m no good at that stuff,” he said.
Without any conscious attempt to synchronize, the two drained their glasses as one.
“That’s sweet!”
“Delicious, ain’t it?”
Their voices resonated in the subdued bar.
The sorcerers’ night grew long, and the sweet taste on their tongues was like all the swirling suffering of the world.