"Humans are hypocrites. Behind every polite façade, there's always a hidden agenda."
Jogo cast a sideways glance around the shop. Students chatted and messed around, office workers shared drinks and conversation, and neighbors gossiped about family matters... Despite the differences, the common thread was clear—driven by emotion, they were all leaking curses to varying degrees, their overall mood leaning negative.
"Heh." Jogo withdrew his gaze and sneered. "But we—inside and out—are truly negative."
"We are the pure humans. The counterfeits should be erased."
Sōjun Minamoto had no words.
Kenjaku had shown up early in the morning and brought him to this drink shop. That's when he saw the three Special Grade Cursed Spirits sitting in front of him.
He recognized their nature at a glance—earth, forest, and ocean—and immediately knew who they were: Jogo, born from humanity's fear of the earth; Hanami, from the fear of the forest; and Dagon, from the fear of the sea.
It was the first time the three Natural Disaster Cursed Spirits had seen him, and they didn't make any sudden moves. They just couldn't quite figure him out—was he human? A curse?
There wasn't a trace of Cursed Energy on him, yet he clearly wasn't someone to take lightly. If Kenjaku had brought him here, he couldn't be ordinary.
Since Kenjaku didn't bother introducing him, they dropped the matter.
Sōjun Minamoto didn't want to engage with them anyway. He just sat off to the side, waiting for Kenjaku to explain why he was brought here.
And then came Volcano Head's little monologue.
It left him speechless.
Do you guys even have the ability to generate curses? No? Then maybe you should know better.
He never understood. With Cursed Spirits, their stance was different, so he could at least see where they were coming from. But some Curse Users genuinely believed they were superior, standing above non-sorcerers, and even thought those people should be wiped out.
Did they think just because they could extract Cursed Energy from their own negative emotions, they didn't need the broader environment of curses?
Short-sighted.
Cursed Spirits couldn't generate curses. Sorcerers could, but very few of them did, and no one was releasing curses without a reason.
Both sides were deeply dependent on curses…
Never seen anyone so eager to destroy their own foundation.
After being around this stuff long enough, he'd gotten used to it. There was no need to understand what didn't make sense—he didn't even bother listening anymore. If he saw it, he just exorcised it.
Maybe he was just too normal to ever fit in.
"Waitress." He called out toward the counter.
A young woman came over. He took the menu and placed his order.
"Extra ice, please."
"Certainly. And would the other gentleman like anything?" she asked politely before leaving.
"Just mine," Sōjun Minamoto replied with a wave.
The three Cursed Spirits paused their conversation while he finished ordering.
The temperature in the room subtly rose.
Sōjun Minamoto glanced at Jogo but remained seated off to the side, uninvolved in their discussion.
"But the reality is, humans hold the dominant position. Meanwhile, you're forced to cower in the shadows..." Kenjaku said with a narrowed smile, picking up where he left off.
"That's why I'm asking—how do we defeat the Jujutsu Sorcerers?" Jogo asked.
"It's simple. You just need to meet two conditions," Kenjaku leaned in, prompting Jogo to subconsciously do the same. He raised two fingers.
"First, seal Satoru Gojo; second, win over Ryomen Sukuna and Yuji Itadori."
"Can't we just kill him?"
"No. You'd likely be exorcised in the attempt. My advice—seal him."
Kenjaku added, "Use the Special Grade Cursed Object, Prison Realm, to seal him away."
Jogo's expression lit up with excitement. The temperature ticked up again.
"Prison Realm? You have that Special Grade forbidden object? Why not let me keep it? I'll take care of Satoru Gojo…"
"Thanks." Sōjun Minamoto accepted his drink and thanked the waitress.
The gesture once again interrupted Jogo.
"I've been meaning to ask—who is he?" Jogo turned toward Sōjun Minamoto, lips curled into a sneer, but his eyes stayed locked on Kenjaku.
The air grew hotter.
"Him..." Kenjaku tapped the table, paused as if considering how to frame it, then said with a playful smirk, "Prison Realm is in his hands."
"And if he's willing to help, he can restrain Satoru Gojo too."
Sōjun Minamoto didn't even glance at Jogo. He shot Kenjaku a look. He had no interest in being part of any long-term scheme, didn't intend to take on such burdens, and certainly didn't want to attract the attention of the higher-ups prematurely.
"I'm not doing you that kind of favor." He took a sip of his drink and leaned back, relaxed.
"But if you can break into Jujutsu High on your own and get the object, I won't stop you."
"That's all I need." Kenjaku chuckled.
All he wanted was for Sōjun Minamoto not to interfere. Everything else was manageable. There were ways to get through the barrier.
Now that he had Sōjun Minamoto's passive consent, the plan was more than halfway done.
As for the rest...
He turned to Jogo and raised a brow. "Jogo, don't get too worked up—it's getting hot. Don't make a scene and piss him off," he said, nodding toward Sōjun Minamoto.
"Tch." White smoke curled from Jogo's crater. "Then let's just burn everyone to death, huh?"
Being ignored again and again had already pushed Jogo to the edge. The volcano atop his head was boiling over. With a snarl, he raised a finger, ready to activate his technique.
The temperature in the shop kept climbing. Customers began to feel the discomfort, and the noise around them steadily grew louder...
Pop.
Sōjun Minamoto snapped his fingers. A wisp of gray mist hovered above Jogo's head.
Hiss—
It was like pouring ice water onto fire. The temperature in the room instantly dropped. The heat produced by Cursed Energy clashed with the Blessing Energy, canceling it out. The gray mist turned crimson and dropped straight into the volcano.
"It's too hot. It's messing with my drink," Sōjun Minamoto said.
Jogo froze in place.
Seeing him stop mid-sentence, the other two Cursed Spirits sensed something was off and stood up, confronting Sōjun Minamoto.
But Sōjun Minamoto was already ignoring them.
They actually have a sense of camaraderie, he thought.
"All right, all right, let's all calm down," Kenjaku said with fake concern.
Of course, words like that had no effect—the scene teetered on the edge of chaos.
In the end, it was Jogo who broke free from the effects of assimilation. He raised a hand to stop his companions, easing the tension.
Sōjun Minamoto quietly sipped his drink.
Jogo's body turned faint and illusory, cold sweat trickling down his forehead. Staring hard at Sōjun Minamoto, he said to the other two, voice heavy, "I'm fine."
Sōjun Minamoto didn't look their way, only shot a glance at Kenjaku.
He hadn't used any technique—just triggered the most basic form of power.
His Cursed Energy had already fused with Blessing Energy. By converting the heat back into pure Cursed Energy, only the neutralized force remained. Sōjun Minamoto's Cursed Energy carried a stabilizing, neutral power.
He had actually intended to assimilate all three Cursed Spirits on the spot.
Hanami especially—he wanted that technique.
The non-physical world was still barren. The white bone trees and grassy plains were his techniques. The sun, moon, and stars were crafted from his eyes. When he created a mountain, a valley would naturally appear elsewhere...
In short, while the world could shift according to his will, he couldn't create something from nothing.
But Hanami's technique could generate plants from nothing.
After thinking it through, Sōjun Minamoto decided to let it go—for now.
It wasn't the right time. Neither the human side nor the Cursed Spirit side had reached their full potential.
His plan required both sides to hit their limits...
Destruction was easier than maintenance—but gradual destruction would give the balance mechanism time to adjust and stabilize.
To shatter the balance completely, it had to happen in one decisive move.
That meant both sides had to reach their peak first. Under overwhelming pressure, the balance mechanism wouldn't have the capacity to monitor him.
Then, and only then, could he move forward.
The thought made Sōjun Minamoto chuckle to himself.
Even now, he still had no idea what this "balance mechanism" actually was.
Was it a living being?
An object?
Or simply a program?
Or something more fantastical—a rule? A law?
Did it possess will or consciousness?
It definitely had awareness. But whether it had its own thoughts or simply followed a set logic—he still didn't know.
Ever since assimilating the non-physical world, he'd begun forming a few guesses.