Chapter 35

The exorcism of the cursed spirit concluded without suspense, yet Takizawa Sei, who had been cleansing his eyes with Gojo Satoru’s presence, did not stop.

The white-haired young man pulled off his blindfold with a playful grin, allowing Takizawa to scrutinize him with brazen openness. He batted his eyelashes rapidly, an aura of shimmering, almost tangible energy radiating from him. "Have you seen enough? If not, you can keep looking, you know!"

Gazing.
A direct, unflinching gaze.
And... a gaze that was slightly different from before, tinged with a faint, alluring nuance.

Takizawa stared at him and delivered an ominous piece of information. "I’ve discovered that the curse's mental attack hasn't worn off."

"Eh?" The cursed spirit had already been reduced to ash beneath their hands. Gojo lightly rubbed the fingertips he had just used to crush the curse's head. "What does that mean?"

"It’s just that, although the curse has been lifted, the thoughts it planted are still lingering in my mind." Takizawa pressed down on the surging emotions in his chest, trying his best to keep his voice steady. "You know those times, right? When you’re suddenly hit by an intense craving for ramen in the middle of the night, so hungry you can't sleep, but when you wake up the next day, the desire is gone. Your body even signals that it doesn't want anything so greasy. Yet, the night before, you were so obsessed that you couldn't rest until you had it."

That was exactly how Takizawa felt now. The cursed technique was gone, but the obsession remained in his spirit. Though he could suppress it, the suppression only made him irritable and restless. "Satoru, I want to go to the roof."

The young man with azure eyes spoke these words as if holding a searing heat on his tongue.

Gojo gave him an indulgent smile. "Let’s go, then."

"It’s only the roof, after all."

The implication of going to the roof was self-evident.

They took the elevator to the top floor, then climbed three flights of stairs before pushing open the door to the roof.

The cold, howling wind of the night rushed into the narrow opening, and Takizawa squinted. As the sound of the wind enveloped his ears, the world grew muffled. An arm rested around his waist; the young man walking behind him didn't hesitate, pulling Takizawa out into the open with him.

Away from the draft, the rooftop was actually not that noisy.

Decorative rotating pillars made a negligible scratching sound as they turned with the wind. Takizawa walked to the edge, step by step.

The floor was too high, the night too dark; no one would notice a person standing here, about to do something reckless.

"Hmm, standing on the edge of a roof... it makes many people feel the urge to jump." Gojo stepped casually onto the ledge, which was only as wide as a stair tread. His toes hung over the void, yet with a shift of his heel, he balanced steadily on the brink of danger. "High-altitude reaction, loss of balance, obsessive-compulsive psychology, negative subconscious—these are common factors. So, how about you now, Sei..."

Carried by the wind, the white-haired youth stood lightly and turned on the cramped ledge. In the residual glow from the streets below, Takizawa saw his glistening eyes and lips that curved into a gentle tone. "How do you feel right now?"

Takizawa said, "I feel like I really want to 'die'."

It wasn't a true desire to be cut off from the world.

Perhaps the cursed spirit's technique had awakened something; Takizawa felt an urgent need to escape.

Even if just for a moment.

"It’s like saying goodbye."

It was like...

He took a step forward and tilted backward into the sky. Pulled by the immense gravity, he spent less than half a second in the air before plummeting rapidly.

It was like...

Takizawa, who couldn't help but squint against the intense wind resistance, imagined the scene of death upon hitting the ground in this specific setting—at the same time, the weightlessness of the fall was a familiar past experience he couldn't forget.

When Takizawa broke out of the system space, he had also let himself fall like this, with nothing to hold onto.

It was like saying goodbye to the deceased Takizawa.
Saying goodbye to the "tool" Takizawa.

And after this farewell, in this moment of escape, he knew with certainty—

A familiar aura approached. Someone fell with him, meeting him in mid-air. An arm wrapped around his back, bracing his spine, and with effortless, gentle, yet swift precision, they swapped positions. Takizawa fell into a perfectly fitted embrace. The next second, the wind vanished, the encroaching city roar disappeared, leaving only the thunderous beating of his heart.

—Gojo Satoru would catch him.

He had no reason to doubt it, and his heart pounded with excitement.

The dangerous, reckless act sent his adrenaline soaring, his blood boiling. Takizawa’s brain remained in a state of heated, exuberant intensity.

He looked down, and in the blink of an eye, he was back on that rooftop.

"Want to go again?" Gojo, who was holding him from behind, asked with the tone of someone addicted to a game.

Takizawa turned around excitedly. "Satoru, that was super interesting!"

He kicked his legs. "Ah, but you're holding me so tight, I'm going to suffocate."

Gojo ignored his struggling. "What if you fall if I don't hold on tight?"

"Alright, alright, I won't jump again. Let's head down." Takizawa’s voice was airy, clearly still reeling, with a strange, brilliant light in his pupils. "I felt like my soul flew out just now. Do you understand that feeling? I felt like I was no one, completely unconstrained. There’s nothing more wanton than that."

Takizawa squinted, tilting his head back with a smile. He laughed so brightly, without a trace of gloom. "Satoru, you’re right. I think I was suffering. Why didn't I realize it myself? I was always suppressing it, but that only applies to the past. Take a good look—the current Takizawa isn't afraid of anything."

When he broke free from the system, he had staked everything on one throw, his blood burning, thinking of nothing. He didn't know what he would face or if he would end up in a strange, distant world. Was Takizawa truly never afraid? He had abandoned his original world and the excellent career he had once aspired to.

How lucky he was; he had treated his targets with sincerity during his missions, and in return, he had received the same, which was why he had somewhere to go after losing everything. He didn't have to hide those memories away, licking his wounds in a lonely, dark corner.

Now, his identity was no longer bound by the system, and his actions no longer required reference to any standard.

He could follow his heart.

Takizawa struggled a bit, but failing to break free from Gojo’s arms, he simply turned around and wrapped his own arms around the other's neck, rubbing his cheek against his. "Hahaha, why are you holding me so tight? Let's go back. If you're still full of energy, want to go for a drink?"

The softness and warmth of the other person’s skin transmitted through their pressed cheeks. Gojo squinted one eye, his long lashes brushing against Takizawa’s eyelids. His smile held a touch of genuine, unbridled indulgence. "But I don't like alcohol~"

"Sparkling water, then."

"Is it one of those bizarre flavors?"

"It’s only interesting if there’s a strange taste in your mouth."

The two, who had just performed an act considered utterly insane by ordinary people, chatted as they emerged from the elevator. The lobby manager on duty glanced at them curiously, wondering what on earth they had been doing.

The dead of night was not silent. People returning late were still burning off their emotions on the bustling commercial street—perhaps out of forced social obligations, perhaps drowning their sorrows, or perhaps living with the madness of "dying today" once the night passed.

Takizawa carried the souvenirs he’d bought for his students, the smile on his face never fading. He walked past a drunkard lying on the ground, dragged the man to an undisturbed corner, and dodged a pedestrian who had intentionally bumped into him. His voice was hoarse and soft as he said, "I once saved a kid who was jumping off a building."

"What did it feel like?" Gojo didn't ask who it was or when it happened. Takizawa went on many missions alone and didn't tell him every detail.

"It was a strange feeling. I didn't have the concept of 'saving' him; I just kept him company while he did something others would consider absurd and ridiculous." Takizawa remembered Dazai Osamu’s dark, hollow eyes, in which a faint, ghostly glint flickered. "Because he looked like he really wanted to jump. He didn't care who stopped him, and he was indifferent to any words. He stood on the edge of the roof as if full of curiosity and expectation for death. Other people's attempts to stop him and their nervousness were predictable, meaningless reactions."

So, Takizawa had sent Dazai’s subordinates away first.

Then, he stood on the edge of the roof with the raven-haired boy, calm and fearless. "Want to jump? I’m ready."

Dazai’s expression at that time, even if hazy in the night, revealed to Takizawa his hesitation and a kind of maddening impulse that seemed ready to vanish with the wind.

Dazai leaped off with light, clean precision.

He had no attachment. In the moment of the fall, his gaze locked onto Takizawa’s.

Timing it perfectly, Takizawa pushed off the building wall to give himself an extra burst of acceleration, then chased after Dazai with all his might.

He caught the boy’s waist just before he hit the ground and pulled the emergency parachute, but it was too late. The parachute had long since lost its effectiveness; Takizawa had opened it purely to catch onto tree branches. He felt his breath hitch as the nearly inelastic ropes constricted him, while Dazai, whom he held in his arms, merely swung a few times in the air.

At the time, Takizawa had said in a hoarse, steady voice, "Next time, you must jump when I'm here."

Once wasn't enough; Takizawa had to emphasize it again. "You can only jump when I'm present!"

His cheek was brushed by a cold can of soda. Takizawa snapped back to reality to see Gojo leaning in, staring at him from an excessively close distance.

He hissed softly, took the soda, and glanced at the packaging. "...What flavor is this? You took a sip and then gave it to me."

"It tastes terrible..." Gojo drawled softly.

Takizawa didn't hesitate to take a large gulp, then twisted his expression. "...Is this the flavor that’s supposed to make your soul ascend?" He looked at the label, and his disdain deepened. "And it’s ridiculously expensive."

"But it says it’s a huge supplement for the body."

"Deceptive merchants," Takizawa remarked sharply.

Yet, Takizawa would still finish it. Although he didn't exactly like it, the liquid just slid past his tongue. Gojo had discovered something long ago—

Takizawa didn't hate bizarre flavors.

He was even quite interested in exploring them—a small habit he couldn't shake despite his complaints.

Gojo eyed the souvenirs they had bought. "Is this enough?"