Chapter 18

Takesawa’s coma was unexpected. Perhaps it was his unwillingness to give in, or an instinct not to worry Satoru Gojo, but after half a minute, he forced himself to wake up.

Upon awakening, he felt fingers trembling as they brushed across his cheek, lingering at his lips, touching his breath.

“Don’t be afraid…”

The whispered words dissipated into the air before his gaze could meet them.

Gojo paused, then tightened his embrace around him. Takesawa propped up his sore, weak arm and patted Gojo’s back. “I’m fine. I probably just overused my cursed energy all at once and got exhausted.”

His head throbbed as if it might split open. In a daze, Takesawa heard Gojo make a call—likely to arrange help. His chin rested on the young man’s shoulder, his legs giving out as he let his entire weight press down on him.

Gojo held him steadily.

In his hazy consciousness, Takesawa recalled Satoru Gojo at ten years old. Back then, Gojo had been attacked and crippled his leg. Gojo had carried him home. Takesawa was bigger than the Six-Eyed Divine Child, yet Gojo hadn’t wavered or stumbled at all. They had walked through a dim, cool forest, free from the nagging of the Gojo household and having just crushed the threat. The only sound was their breathing. Despite the numb, burning pain from his wounds, it didn’t feel so bad.

“You’ve had no friends from the Gojo family all these years…” Takesawa murmured.

“What?” Gojo’s voice was too soft to catch.

“Takesawa, do you feel…”

“Cough cough…”

Takesawa coughed up blood again. His chest shook violently, forcing him to push Gojo away and curl up. Instinctively, he covered his mouth with one hand, catching the blood. Then he realized it would be better to spit on the floor rather than on his hand. When his eyes flickered again, he saw Gojo’s hand supporting his wrist beneath his.

“Damn… this is ridiculous,” Takesawa muttered, imagining how terrifying he must look, covered in blood from head to toe. “My flesh wounds aren’t actually that bad, since I’m still top-notch at running away…”

He comforted the child he had known since childhood with such words, though he hadn’t heard what Gojo said in response. Sensing his body might give out, Takesawa looked at Gojo’s saddened face and gripped his wrist. “Take me to a hospital… or to Naoko…”

Then, the dark world overwhelmed him.

***

Takesawa’s barely flowing consciousness was abruptly roused by light filtering through his eyelids. He blinked in confusion, his sluggish brain unable to catch up.

“You’re awake.”

“Wow, you suddenly woke up!”

“Takesawa?”

Several faces leaned in, surprised. Takesawa’s blurry eyes tried to recognize them for a while, but he hadn’t called out their names fast enough, so they mistook his slow reaction for something else.

“Crap, he looks like he’s demented.”

Silently, Takesawa sat up and checked his clothes were intact. Then, a somewhat weary voice shooed the kids out, and the room fell silent.

He scratched his head and slowly scanned the surroundings before swinging his legs off the bed and cheerfully calling out, “Hey, Naoko~ long time no see~!”

A smile lingered on his face. “At first, I barely recognized you. You’ve grown your hair out—looks great on you!”

Naoko Ieiri was quiet for three seconds before replying. Her dark circles and weary eyes hinted she’d been under great strain. Takesawa’s smile faded slightly, but his tone remained light. “Don’t give me the cold shoulder. You’re making me nervous. Am I really that badly hurt?”

Naoko’s expression shifted slightly as if indifferent, looking away dryly. “People who come back from the dead don’t say things like that.”

“Looks like I’m okay then.”

“You just burned out your brain opening your Domain for the first time.”

Takesawa touched his head. “If I’d gone to a regular hospital, some careless doctor might have shaved my head and performed a craniotomy.”

He got out of bed, bounced a couple of times to check his body, and saw that his obvious wounds had been treated. Grateful and nostalgic, he said to Naoko, “Your skills are still excellent. I feel fantastic now.”

Peering at his reflection in the mirror on the wall, he gasped sharply. “My face?! Do you know how hard I tried not to scream in agony?”

Naoko glanced at him. “Your current reaction is almost as bad as screaming.”

“Why hasn’t the wound on my forehead healed? Naoko, you’re doing this on purpose~”

“It won’t scar.”

Takesawa carefully brushed his bangs to cover the still-healing wound.

While fussing with his hair in front of the mirror, he could feel a strong sense of being watched, just like when he first reunited with Gojo. The atmosphere in the room was thick and slow like stagnant mud, making Takesawa uneasy.

He lowered his hand, and his lively expression gradually faded. “Aren’t you going to say something? The kids were kicked out.”

Gojo finally brought him back after all...

The young man leaned against the cabinet and looked at Naoko deeply. “I think I understand now why you all seemed so unhappy after I returned.”

Naoko’s gaze darkened. “Why have you become like this?”

Takesawa gave a low sigh. “I don’t know. What do I look like now?”

The doctor, who had thoroughly examined him, spoke calmly, “A hybrid of human and cursed spirit.”

“I’m not mixed-blood, you’re making people misunderstand.” Takesawa looked himself over. “So do I look like some kind of cursed vessel now? Has this happened before? Not that I know of—if there’ve been no new cases in recent years. So, I’m the first?”

His expression wasn’t gloomy—it was as if he were analyzing something routine, speculating lightly and indifferently. “The price of resurrection? Probably.”

Naoko twisted a strand of her hair. “You really scared Gojo.”

“Didn’t you get scared?”

“I mean when he carried you back, covered in blood.”

“Ah… that was scary. I was a little afraid he wouldn’t wake up.” Takesawa rubbed his nose. “So, what about Gojo?”

“He’s arguing.”

Takesawa immediately understood. “So he’s verbally sparring with those rotten brats.”

The conversation felt distant somehow. Takesawa glanced at Naoko’s expression; she still looked far from happy. He spread his arms, showing off his robust and clear state, and smiled. “Why do you look like you’ve been up three days straight? I find it a bit odd, but it doesn’t really matter. Look at me—I’ve got arms and legs, I haven’t become hideous or gone crazy. I just missed you all, so I came back to find you.”

After a moment, the woman facing him gave a faint smile.

***

Takesawa’s eyes brightened as he gave a thumbs-up. “Exactly! You should be happy—we’re good friends, aren’t we?”

His knack for banter hadn’t changed. Naoko chuckled softly, then Takesawa casually asked, “How long was I asleep?”

“Three days.”

“What?! Three days!!” Takesawa was shocked. “My lucky charm—!!”

Wait, wasn’t there someone else...?

“Your dog was brought here by Gojo.” Naoko passed by with a blood tube in hand.

“He’s the only one who understands me,” Takesawa thought, relieved. Then he leaned forward to watch Naoko’s actions. “Is that my blood? Did you just draw it?”

“For research.”

“Oh, okay.”

Takesawa lay on the table, chatting casually with Naoko about the events of the past years.

“I guessed Gojo became a teacher. Do the students like him?”

“Is the Technical College still so understaffed? Those kids earlier were so curious about me—did they hear who I am from you?”

“What about Jie? Where’s Jie gone?”

He babbled on, but when mentioning Jie, Naoko asked him sharply,

“Have you really forgotten about that incident?”

“What incident? From the way you say it… Did Gojo tell you about my memory loss?” Takesawa poked his head. “Did the Reversal Technique not fix my brain? Is it about the cause of my death again?”

He shrugged. “Why are you so worried? It’s already in the past, isn’t it? Gojo even avenged me.”

Naoko pressed her lips tightly.

She recalled Gojo’s solemn words about Takesawa’s condition: “Forgetting is the most serious thing.”

“Curses born from obsession almost never forget what they cling to; it’s like their origin. If they lose that core, they become panicked and confused, tormented until their sanity breaks. They can’t even form a curse and eventually dissipate due to forced condensation.”

“A sorcerer’s deepest negative emotions often stem from death.”

“But he’s forgotten even the pain of dying—does that mean he doesn’t want to remember?”

So the possibility of Takesawa self-curse was almost ruled out.

Gojo said firmly to Naoko, “I cursed him. Only I can curse him.”