Chapter 8

"What have you been up to lately?"

As the sorcerer was being led away, bound in ropes, Takizawa Sei heard Gojo Satoru ask this.

"Working part-time," he replied deeply.

"What kind of work?"

Takizawa counted on his fingers, "Delivering newspapers at five in the morning, scooping ice cream at a cafe at noon, dressing up as a mascot to lure customers at a restaurant at six in the evening, and working the night shift at a convenience store at ten."

Gojo Satoru: "..."

Gojo Satoru fell into a strange silence. Takizawa felt the gaze from behind his blindfold was particularly subtle. "Is that all you do?"

"Aren't these just the kind of part-time jobs any young person can find?" Takizawa realized the surprise in his tone. "Don't tell me you expect me to pass an exam and become a white-collar worker now? Besides, I skipped a day of work just to come see you, so treat me to a meal later."

Gojo Satoru didn't commit, instead holding up three fingers in front of Takizawa's face. "With your level of skill, you could take on private jobs and earn this much in one go."

"The kind that the Sorcerer Killer used to do?" Takizawa pressed his tongue against his cheek, lost in thought, then said with disdain, "Let’s not. I have no desire to be on that crowd's radar right now. It would be even more awkward if I ran into someone I knew—either I’d scare them into a myocardial infarction, or I’d be forced to deny my identity with a constipated expression, followed by some cliché plot about us being long-lost brothers."

"And you aren't afraid of scaring me into a myocardial infarction?"

"Ah... so you wanted me to pamper you like that?" A look of nauseating affection appeared in Takizawa's eyes. "How about I knock you out right now, and before you pass out, I tell you that all of this is fake, a dream, so that tomorrow you won't have to see a ghost coming to find you."

"..."

The moment the words left his mouth, Takizawa felt something was off. But he had blurted out the jest in the relaxed atmosphere, and now there was no taking it back. He could only hope that Gojo would retort with a sharp tongue as he always did when provoked—something like "How could you possibly knock me out?" or "Why don't we go to the practice arena and spar right now?"

But this time was different. Gojo Satoru’s aura turned coldly silent, his expression darkening as if he were ready to cut down a few of those "rotten oranges" at any moment.

His half-covered face always made it difficult to guess his mood, as one couldn't see his expressive eyes. But Takizawa only needed to catch the slightest arc of his lips to know whether he was dazed or angry. Even when Gojo smiled, Takizawa could tell when he was annoyed.

Takizawa quickly conceded, "My mistake. I shouldn't have made that kind of joke."

*If Gojo were to go cold, and then come back to tell me this was all just a dream, I would be furious, resentful, and utterly devastated. To have something and then lose it again—just thinking about it is a terrifying horror story. Even if it were just a hypothetical, I would be so angry at his flippant attitude toward his own life that I would curse him out. But thank goodness it is just a 'what if,' thank goodness it’s me who has gone cold.*

Takizawa said with relief, "Not to mention that I wouldn't know how to haunt your dreams, but surely, returning to your side in reality is better than haunting you."

A hand pressed onto the top of his head. Takizawa was about to complain about being touched so casually, but the hand pushed the back of his head, pulling him forward with force. His nose bumped into Gojo Satoru’s shoulder, and a physiological soreness shot straight to the top of his skull.

Takizawa didn't pull away. He blinked, staring silently behind Gojo, listening to the voice of the strongest of this generation, now hoarse and trembling, unlike its usual self. "If it were like that... I’d rather it stay exactly as it is."

...Huh?

What "like that" or "as it is"?

Takizawa was baffled. "Speak like a human being."

"Human language is: Takizawa Sei is a jerk."

Takizawa was shocked and sullen. "Why are you insulting me in such a sentimental atmosphere? Are you craving a verbal sparring match?"

Gojo let go of him and, very childishly, stuck his tongue out. "Takizawa the idiot Sei."

Takizawa didn't back down. "Gojo the fool Satoru."

Gojo: "You have no money."

Takizawa was righteous: "I'm hungry. Treat me to a meal, the most expensive one."

"The place we used to go to changed owners and went out of business. Want to grab some Kikufuku to tide you over first?"

"You anti-human creature, please stay away from me for ten minutes." Takizawa expertly swiped the card from his pocket and found a noodle shop nearby. The next second, he was tackled from behind by Gojo Satoru, nearly failing to keep his balance.

"You're so heavy! You're not a kid anymore, Satoru!" Takizawa growled, "And you’re a teacher now, act your age."

Gojo didn't listen and instead bit back, "What are you pretending for? Our tempers are a match made in heaven!"

They bickered back and forth, their physical contact always revealing their intimacy.

Takizawa felt unusually satisfied after the meal. After paying the bill, he tucked Gojo’s card into his pocket without changing his expression and chatted about trivial matters, roughly catching up on Gojo’s current situation.

When the sky turned dim and yellow, Takizawa remembered his beloved pet. "I should head back to walk Daifuku."

"Daifuku?"

"My dog."

Gojo accused him, "You don't want Soba anymore?"

Soba was the cat Takizawa had raised when he was seventeen, pulled from a sewer while exorcising a cursed spirit. He had possessed incredible drive since he was a child; basically, if he thought of something, he would do it. While other people's mouths were just decorations that spewed nonsense, Takizawa’s rebellious streak was made of reinforced steel, save for his tendency to take care of Gojo in everything. When he first entered the Gojo household, Takizawa had secretly fed a fledgling bird that hadn't learned to fly. After the Gojo cousins who didn't get along with him discovered it and nearly crushed the bird in front of him, Takizawa beat them until they were crying for their lives.

At that time, Gojo had just entered the technical college. In others' eyes, Takizawa was riding on the coattails of the Six Eyes, entering the school as a servant of the Gojo clan. Once enrolled, he had a new place to live and didn't have to deal with the family anymore. The first time the two of them had a legitimate excuse to stay out of the house for long periods, they went wild. Gojo wouldn't sleep in his own proper dorm room, instead running to Takizawa’s room every day. The two would play games all night, and when they were exhausted, they would fall asleep without a hint of awkwardness.

But Takizawa wouldn't let him keep such an unhealthy schedule. Sometimes, when the time came, he would force him to rest—like