Ch.164 Hypnosis Tactics

Even though things had gotten better with age, that was only after the birth of Pignite—when the higher-ups finally clocked the threat Gojo Satoru posed. Did they really think they'd give him a chance to shine? Nope. Whenever Gojo Satoru's name came up, people instantly pictured a problem child, conveniently forgetting all the sweat he'd put in and the stack of achievements he'd racked up.

You've gotta hand it to the pretty nation's golden boy—mastering the media, flipping black and white, and steering public opinion like a pro playing with a Poké Ball.

Normally, no matter how hard Gojo Satoru grinded, the odds of him shaking up the Jujutsu Alliance from the inside were slimmer than a Yamask's shadow. He showed up "late" to the party, after all. Unless something massive—something era-defining—went down, like Kenjaku's schemes in the original story or Akira's arrival, which took it up a notch.

This was hands-down the best shot yet at flipping the script and taking over the Jujutsu Alliance.

But after mulling it over for a hot minute, Gojo Satoru shook his head.

"Nah, if we're killing, I should be the one to do it. Makes it more convincing."

His go-to catchphrases with the higher-ups had always been "I'll curse you to death" or "Watch your back on the way home." This time, he was just putting the threats into action—unleashing his Domain Expansion-level swagger.

"Then you step up, run the meeting, label me a Curse User, declare we're mortal enemies, and jack up the bounty—One Piece standards, full Zoro vibes."

Akira started shaking her head too. "You're forgetting I'm only sixteen. Age and clout? I don't have enough to command respect."

"You're a Special Grade—younger than me, even. As for the rest, have you forgotten your roots? If you gun for the chairman spot, the Kamo Clan won't dare object. I'll get the Gojo Clan to back you up, disavow me, and throw their full weight behind you. Even if the Zenin Clan whines, it won't matter." Gojo Satoru's brain was firing on all cylinders, IQ going full Mewtwo.

"What about strength? You say you'll take me out, and that's believable—I'm not sure I could beat you."

"Even better! Everyone knows you can't, so you just put on a show. No one's gonna force you to actually do it. If someone tries, you tell me—I'll sneak back and Slash 'em all down."

Eyes versus no eyes.

It made sense, sure, but why did this blindfolded jerk have to sound so punchable?

To Akira, he was punchable.

To the higher-ups, he was pure, top-tier terror.

Because this plan? It was way scarier than the last one.

Gojo Satoru might've been the stronger fighter, but Akira was the one with the real Machamp-level mind games.

Akira works the frontlines with diplomacy, Gojo Satoru lurks in the shadows with assasination, external threats force unity, and internal allies keep the teamwork tight. It's the ultimate combo—like a Trainer and their ace Pokémon.

With Pokémon in her corner, Akira didn't even need backup to whip up something like a Jujutsu Jinyiwei. How's that Torterra of a council supposed to squirm out of this one? They could beg for mercy, but Gojo Satoru's Infinity technique was always on, leaving no room for negotiation.

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru was already rubbing his hands together, plotting the most jaw-dropping, Jujutsu-world-shaking kill he could pull off.

Seeing this, Elder Ijuin—who'd been clinging to life, bleeding out and organs failing—suddenly found some hidden HP. His eyes snapped open, and he dragged himself up with a feral grunt. "You… you two fiends! Ambitious schemers! I curse you! Even in death, I won't let you off—I'll come back as a Cursed Spirit and settle the score!"

In other stories, that'd just be a loser's tantrum. But in the Jujutsu world? That's a real move.

Jujutsu Sorcerers study curses, wield curses, and yeah, they can curse others too—or use their cursed energy to linger after death as vengeful spirits or relics. Tons of the Jujutsu Alliance's cursed tools and objects came from that exact play—it's a sorcerer's last resort, their final Thunderbolt.

But instead of flinching, Akira lit up like he'd just caught a Shiny.

"You said it, not me! Teach, Teach—what's the Jujutsu Alliance rule on this? For sorcerers who recklessly curse others or haunt after death—"

Gojo Satoru caught the vibe instantly. "—Sorcers who curse others without cause lose their Jujutsu status and get branded Curse Users. Those who refuse to die as humans and linger as pests after death? They're treated as Cursed Spirits. It's older than the sorcerer grading system—more fundamental."

"So, you're a Curse User and a Cursed Spirit now—not a sorcerer, and definitely not an Alliance bigwig. Seppuku apologies won't cut it anymore. Gardevoir, you got that footage, right?"

Akira tossed her phone up, the screen still glowing with the recording in progress.

Behind her, Gardevoir synced up perfectly, hands crossing.

Move: Psychic.

Elder Ijuin's curse-filled meltdown replayed in vivid detail.

And thanks to Gardevoir's level-up, Psychic's resolution had jumped—low-res to high-res, now a near-perfect 3D hologram.

Slap that onto any device with Akira's audio, and it'd pass as legit… not that it wasn't already.

"Heh heh~ I'm broadcasting this to the whole Jujutsu world. Wonder what all those hardworking sorcerers will think when they see their former enforcement chief like this."

Whatever they'd think, Elder Ijuin wouldn't find out. Before Akira even finished, he choked on his own blood, rage spiking his heart. Wheezing "Hrrk hrrk hrrk," his eyes rolled back.

And that curse he'd thrown out? It kicked in. His withered body shriveled up fast—a classic Jujutsu post-death curse: Dead Wax.

It's a move that locks in a sorcerer's power at max, turning their corpse into a reinforced husk for revenge.

Too bad for him—against two Special Grades, no amount of buffs mattered. Especially since that boost came at the cost of his soul and sanity (or what little he had left).

The second the transformation finished, Akira raised a hand. Reverse Technique: Heal.

Refined positive energy clashed with Dead Wax's negative vibes, canceling each other out and reducing the husk to dust and dirt.

With a flick of her hand to clear the last traces, Akira snorted softly. "Pathetic."

"Told you the sorcerer grading system needs a rework. Those old geezers wouldn't listen. Push it through when you're chairman," Gojo Satoru said with a shrug, ready to wipe out the rest of the fossils.

This time, Akira stopped him. "Hold up. We've got the upper hand now—no need to go that extreme."

"So what's the plan—"

"Teach, lend me a hand. Undo their techniques first, then soundproof us."

Akira didn't answer—just flashed a cryptic smile.

Gojo Satoru knew a show was coming. He snapped his fingers—Infinity: Sound Barrier.

"Perfect timing."

Words no one would hear escaped the boy's lips as he looked up.

Down the mountain path came a single-ponytail girl, war blade strapped to her back, cradling a sassy Serperior, a chubby Swablu perched on her head, charging full speed.

"Sing your heart out, Swablu."