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Chapter 18: Tangled Thoughts

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Back in the private room, Kidomichi Ryo and Fuwa Nogawa were chatting and laughing as if nothing had happened.
Fuwa Yozora kept her eyes downcast, but her indifferent attitude—bordering on maddening—only served to irritate Kidomichi Ryo further.
Is the Young Lady truly that sophisticated, or does she simply not care? Losing dominance over Yokohama Port already had Kidomichi Ryo’s ego in a tailspin, but the one unexpected silver lining was the discovery of a delicious new prey.
He bid Fuwa Nogawa a swaying, drunken farewell. Before being helped into his sedan by his subordinates, he turned back with exaggerated warmth to wave goodbye.
The moment the car door clicked shut, the drunken haze vanished from his face, replaced by a dark scowl.
"To the usual spot."

On his command, his men immediately drove to his so-called "usual spot"—a den of decadence where money and alcohol collided.
Beautiful girls fluttered before his eyes, but Kidomichi Ryo clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction at the owner.
"Nothing younger?"
The aging but still graceful madam plastered on a flattering smile. Kidomichi Ryo’s usual taste was for sexy, bombshell types, so she always prepared women of that caliber.
Why the sudden change of heart? Being a sharp professional, the madam didn't ask questions. she immediately ordered a fresh rotation.

Kidomichi Ryo dangled a cigarette from his lips, looking apathetically at the various women paraded before him. In his mind, however, he saw only those pale violet eyes.
The Sanyei-gumi heiress, looking at him like he was literal garbage.
It’s just... so exciting. Among the group was a woman with loose, ink-black hair. Her skin was as pale as Fuwa Yozora’s, though her features were a few notches lower in quality.
"Her."
The madam smiled obsequiously; it looked like she’d be making a killing tonight.
Everyone was dismissed, leaving only the woman and Kidomichi Ryo.
The hostesses here were high-end. She knew she was serving a Mafia Oyabun tonight, so she didn't dare slack off, hoping to perhaps secure a permanent connection.
A smile was fixed on her face, but Kidomichi Ryo irritably stubbed out his cigarette.
"Stop smiling."
"Kidomichi-oyabun...?"
The title was, at least, pleasing to the ear.
"Come here."

The woman obediently walked to his side. He grabbed her wrist and hauled her onto the sofa. She put on a shy, alluring expression.
Looking into those dark brown eyes, an unnamable rage surged within him.
They weren't the Young Lady’s eyes.
Violently, he tore off his necktie and bound it over her eyes, leaving only the bottom half of her porcelain face and her long black hair scattered across the vibrant red sofa.
Kidomichi Ryo let out a twisted, predatory laugh.
"Young Lady... you really do drive a man crazy."

With a mixture of fury and lust, he unleashed everything onto the stranger before him. He knew she wasn't Fuwa Yozora.
This wasn't the girl he craved—the one who would look at him with such disdain, who would resist him without mercy.
This wasn't the one who was currently putting on a performance she thought was enticing.
Kidomichi Ryo squeezed the woman's neck, his eyes filled with cruel, animalistic intent.
Fuwa Yozora... one day, I'll have that Young Lady gasping under me, turned into nothing more than a dog begging for pleasure. ---

Fuwa Yozora and Fuwa Nogawa arrived home together. It was clear they were both in high spirits.
Kidomichi Ryo wasn't an idiot; he knew a head-on collision wouldn't end well, so he’d given up the port.
But he was a predatory beast. He wouldn't just let it go. She would eventually need to find a way to break him completely.

Fuwa Yozora rubbed her wrist. There was a bruise where he’d gripped her, which she’d hidden carefully from her father.
She thought of Geto Suguru’s teasing smile—the way those dark gold eyes sparked with unreadable intent in the moonlight. It was distracting.
Taking a deep breath, she cleared the clutter from her mind. Right now, she needed to focus on how to fully neutralize the Hanaha-kai.
And the connection between her father's lifespan and Geto Suguru.

Fuwa Yozora closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. Her weary appearance tugged at Fuwa Nogawa’s heartstrings.
"Yozora, was putting the Sanyei-gumi business on your shoulders this early too much pressure?"
"It’s not that. It’s better to take over early."

Fuwa Nogawa didn't say anything. He knew his daughter was capable, but after she told him he had less than 3,800 days left to live, a thought had taken root in his mind.
Before he left, he had to personally entrust his daughter to someone he could trust—someone who would support her and help her lead the Sanyei-gumi.
Geto Suguru? All the records showed he was a kid with a clean background; the only "delinquent" behavior was a few middle school brawls.
Was a boy like that bold enough to stand behind his daughter?

Fuwa Nogawa thought of his late wife, Fuwa Rika. She was a vibrant, radiant woman—less a "hero of justice" and more a free-spirited spirit.
She didn't kill indiscriminately, but she never forgave. She was ruthless toward enemies, even cruel.
They were a match made in heaven. Rika had walked the darker paths of the jujutsu world; she was more a "curse user" than a sorcerer.
But Geto Suguru... seemed a bit too "righteous."

As Fuwa Nogawa was deep in thought, Fuwa Yozora’s phone chimed with a notification.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the name: Geto Suguru.
"Dad, I’m going out tomorrow after dinner."
Fuwa Nogawa bristled instantly.
"That brat is asking you out at night?!"

Fuwa Yozora put her phone away and let out a helpless sigh.
"Curses tend to show up at night, Dad. Don't worry, I’ll have Uncle Tenmei go with me."
Fuwa Nogawa couldn't tell if his daughter wanted to observe Curses or observe Geto Suguru.
Who could ever tell what was going on in a teenage girl’s head?
Especially one as independent as her.

In the message she’d received, Geto Suguru’s text was blunt:
`Curse. Yoyogi Park tomorrow at 9:00 PM. See you there.`
No fluff, no emotion. Strictly a professional mission brief.
Fuwa Yozora didn't mind the directness. She tucked her phone back into her handbag and leaned affectionately against her father’s shoulder to nap.
Yes, the Sanyei-gumi heiress really did love her sleep.

---

Back at Jujutsu High, Geto Suguru sent that text while smoking outside the boys' dormitory.
It was nearly midnight. He stubbed out the half-finished cigarette, the burn on his fingertip easing some of his irritation.
Today’s mission to save non-sorcerers had been boring again.
Low-intelligence monkeys. Turning around, he spotted Gojo Satoru. He blinked and raised a hand.
"Satoru? I thought you were on a business trip."
Since Gojo Satoru had awakened Reverse Cursed Technique and could heal himself, they rarely went on missions together anymore.
They used to be the inseparable "Strongest" duo.
"Just got back. You're back late too, Suguru?"
"Yeah, had a mission. Get some rest."

Geto’s tone was casual, but as he passed, Gojo put a hand on his shoulder.
"Suguru, you good? You look exhausted lately."
It was a rare moment of genuine concern from his "filtered" best friend. Combined with the constant drone of the cicadas, it made Geto’s thoughts feel heavy.
His best friend was powerful. Effortlessly, logically powerful.
To Satoru, Geto’s internal struggles probably seemed ridiculous—unnecessary even.
Because Gojo Satoru could do anything alone. Who could possibly stand against him?
But Geto couldn't.

Geto Suguru shrugged, looking at the moon caught between the tree branches.
"Just summer fatigue."
Gojo Satoru didn't say anything for a moment, then grinned and slapped his shoulder hard.
"You’re being way too dramatic. Ice soba tomorrow morning?"
"I want the marbled beef addition."
"Bet. But you're buying the drinks."
"Is 100-yen canned juice okay?"
"You’re actual trash."

The two best friends walked into the dorm as if everything was normal, leaving the cicadas and their unspoken burdens behind.

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· Genuine translation/MTL can be found only in OchatimesBlogspotCom, Ochatimes' FanFictionNet, or Ochatimes' Wattpad
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