CHAPTER 23: TWO WAYS APART

The air was heavy. Not with cursed energy—but with silence.

A wide stone path cut through the heart of Kyoto's old district. Paper lanterns swayed faintly in the early evening breeze.

And there he was.

Suguru Geto, standing still in the middle of the street with his hands in his sleeves, wearing a calm, almost saint-like smile. His long black hair fluttered in the wind. Civilians walked past him, oblivious.

Then—

Satoru Gojo appeared.

No flash. No spark. Just presence. Silent and loud at once.

He stood a few feet away from his former best friend.

"…Suguru."

Geto turned.

"Ah," he smiled gently, "Satoru."

There was no anger in his tone. Only a strange peace. As if he'd already crossed a line and buried the chaos deep inside.

Gojo took a step forward. "Why?"

A pause. A long one.

"I've made a choice," Geto said. "Non-sorcerers are the cause of all this suffering. The imbalance. The fear. The waste of life."

He looked up, eyes dark but serene.

"I will save the world by erasing those who should not be in it."

Gojo's jaw clenched. "So you kill them all? Women, children, farmers—people who did nothing?"

Geto shrugged. "They never did anything. And they never will. Cursed energy is evolution. Non-sorcerers are decay."

His voice held conviction. But to Gojo, it sounded like madness.

In a heartbeat, cursed energy surged.

Gojo raised his hand, fingers aligned, cursed energy twisting violently around them.

"Hollow Purple."

The world vibrated.

Lanterns shattered. Air bent. A swirling orb of devastation began forming between his hands, thunderous and humming with death.

Geto didn't flinch.

He stared into the heart of the Hollow Purple, unwavering.

And then—

It stopped.

The cursed energy fizzled out. Gojo dropped his hand. He couldn't do it. Not yet.

Geto smiled. "Still soft, Satoru."

He turned to leave.

Gojo's voice rang through the still air.

"I will kill you, Suguru."

Geto paused. Didn't look back.

"…Then be strong enough next time."

And he vanished into the crowd.

Later, Gojo sat on the stairs of a quiet alleyway near Jujutsu High, arms resting on his knees, head tilted slightly upward.

He looked… tired.

Footsteps approached.

Principal Yaga sat beside him without saying a word.

He rested a hand on Gojo's back.

"You did what you could," Yaga said.

"I didn't," Gojo replied, voice hollow. "He's still alive."

Yaga exhaled slowly.

"Sometimes… the hardest part of being the strongest isn't fighting enemies."

Gojo didn't answer.

Only the evening breeze moved, carrying with it the quiet echoes of a broken friendship.