“Think about who you’re talking to. The higher-ups assigned you to the job and didn’t fill me in, which means those geezers want to keep it a secret!”
“In that case, haven’t you considered that they may have forbidden me from telling you?”
“Doesn’t matter. If I wanted, I could make you talk. The most they can do is ask you to try not to let me find out. But now that I’m here, it’s too late for that,” Gojo said.
“If you’re so smart, you should find things out for yourself instead of asking me to explain everything.”
“It’s faster to ask junior sorcerers to do things that are a pain in the ass but not impossible,” Gojo responded matter-of-factly.
Nanami sighed. He could only marvel at this more senior sorcerer who acted so high-and-mighty. Finally, he said, “Resurrections of the dead.”
“Say what?”
Gojo didn’t often doubt his ears, But what Nanami had said was ridiculous.
“The website advertises ‘new vessels’ called ‘resurrection dolls’ for summoning the souls of the dead,” Nanami said.
“Sounds like a bad joke.”
“It’s most likely a fake, but …” Nanami trailed off.
“Okay, got it.” Gojo waved his hand. During this short exchange, he had comprehended the situation and found it dispiriting. “Even if it’s 99 percent likely to be nonsense, that still leaves a small chance that it’s true. So ignoring it isn’t an option.”
The world is full of phenomena that don’t require a second thought: morning follows night, ice is cold, and apples fall from trees. The world works because certain simple rules are so reliable it’s almost funny. But if you overturn those rules, the world falls apart; if one plus one doesn’t equal two, every other calculation fails, and if morning doesn’t follow night the world could end. Laughably simple truths aren’t funny if they stop being true. One of those truths is the irreversibility of time. It’s no use crying over spilt milk. Regret solves nothing. You can’t turn back time.
One of those phenomena so instinctively easy to understand
is death.
“Those scumbags intent on burying Sukuna’s vessel … They wanna keep me in the dark, huh?” Gojo said.
“So you understand.”
“They misjudge me. Do they really think I’d rely on something like this?”
“If there’s any chance at all, even if it’s less than 1 percent, they’ll crush it,” Nanami explained. “That’s why the powers that be continue to reign as the powers that be.”
“I’m 100 percent sure these dolls are fake, though,” Gojo said.
“Probably. If someone could raise the dead …”
“If someone could raise the dead, the world as we know it would have already ended.”
The dead don’t come back to life, so instead of dwelling on the past, people live the best they can before death. If coming back were possible, it would be a horrible curse upon the world.
One could call it the king of curses—the absolute curse.
“Well, this shady business only claims to raise babies,” Nanami said. “So its plausibility is even more questionable.”
“Babies? Say what?!”
“The business only allows customers to raise babies. I’m here to look into it.”
“Even though the claim of resurrecting the dead is itself highly dubious,” Gojo said.
“That doesn’t mean I can just let it go. Work is work.”
Gojo looked up as he nibbled on his cone. Ice cream had dripped on his thumb, and he licked it off. The expression on his face as he peered at Nanami through his sunglasses was one of exhaustion.
“Hey, Nanami? Was being a salaryman crappier than being a sorcerer?”
“Aside from whether one is cut out for it or not, there’s little difference.”
“Then our society is cursed,” Gojo said.
“You make it sound hopeless.”
“Whoever’s selling those dolls—let’s call them the Doll Maker—you know where they are, right? Which way do we go?”
“We already passed it. Because somebody walks wherever it suits him,” Nanami said meaningfully.
“Huh? So it’s my fault?”
“You’re starting to make me think that being a salaryman was better because at least it didn’t involve you.”
Nanami couldn’t help reconsidering his course in life.
Cities don’t only expand laterally. When cities achieve maximum density on the surface, they usually start expanding vertically. In other words, buildings are stacked up high or dug deep underground.
“Oh, I get it. An underground city,” said Gojo.
“I’m glad there are lots of entrances from the surface leading underground, but we sure took the long way,” Nanami grumbled.
A sizeable rail network tends to be part of the underground footprint of a big city. The underground passage beginning at Sapporo Station is relatively new and spacious, and it affords access to a variety of major facilities all the way to Susukino. It explains why pedestrians are sparse aboveground despite the wide streets. The vast underground space, free of traffic signals and weather conditions, is like a separate city placed below the city above.
“Pretty fancy! We’re underground, but there’s a skylight!” Gojo marveled.
“There are convenience stores, bookstores, terraces, library kiosks, hair salons, and fortune-tellers! Along with all that, there might just be a Doll Maker too.”
“Shouldn’t we have started by coming down here?”
“I wanted to,” Nanami said. “But someone insisted on chowing down on buttered potatoes first.”
Gojo smirked. “Seriously? If I see that person, I’ll give him a warning.”
“Try the bathroom mirror.”
“In any case, this place really is impressive. There are exhibition spaces, events, and performers. There’s more human activity down here than on the surface.” Gojo knitted his brows. “That isn’t necessarily a good thing.”