Chapter 21

Takizawa Sei was speechless for a moment.

He opened his mouth and said, "Actually, I had guessed it."

"What?"

"You know? When most people receive that kind of call, they would blame the person who broke the promise for being truly excessive." Takizawa Sei couldn't help but spread his hands, his slender fingers curling as if trying to hook onto something. "If I had made plans with you and you made me worry, do you know what I would say?"

Before Gojo Satoru could answer, Takizawa Sei finished the thought for him: "I would say: 'Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?! Don't let there be a next time, you jerk, apologize properly!'" He looked at Gojo Satoru and smiled slightly. "I don't disguise or suppress my emotions because I have no reason to find it difficult to speak my mind."

Gojo Satoru clicked his tongue, noncommittal. "So he is the one in a poor mental state."

At the mention of this, Takizawa Sei felt a headache coming on. "Are you all still under the impression that I have self-destructive tendencies? Hiss, if you think about it that deeply, my losing contact would become incredibly ominous."

He turned his head and said, "And you even took Daifuku away, as if you were finding it a permanent home."

"Daifuku was part of your plan too..."

"To hell with plans, I told you I'm fine." Takizawa Sei saw the assistant supervisor's embarrassed face in the rearview mirror, likely because he had argued with the strongest of the modern era so naturally. "I was very serious when I decided to adopt him. It meant I had to take care of him for a lifetime. Why would someone who might give up at any moment choose to accompany a life?"

The car fell silent. Takizawa Sei heard Gojo Satoru let out a laugh, and then a head pressed against his shoulder, the young man's soft hair brushing against his neck. "Alright, alright, I believe you. By the way, what are you going back to get?"

"Daifuku's bowl. Haven't you noticed he's been listless lately even when eating high-end dog food? You can't ignore a puppy's feelings just because the stuff is cheap," Takizawa Sei said. "Also, the gifts my fellow patients gave me. There are many letters of blessing... and suicide notes written to me."

Suicide notes.

The word was laden with a bitter, heavy emotion. Gojo Satoru's expression froze for a second.

Takizawa Sei carefully tucked the wooden stick he had finished using into its wrapper and threw it into the small trash bin in the car. "That stuff is worth far more than money."

Half an hour later, they arrived at Takizawa Sei's rental apartment. Looking at the dilapidated exterior but clean interior, Takizawa Sei actually felt a sense of reluctance at parting. "Actually, life here wasn't too bad. Although there were delinquents riding motorcycles past here at night, and thieves would come by trying to pry open the old doors and windows."

"...Good? You actually call that good?" Gojo Satoru's eyes widened.

Takizawa Sei understood him immediately and said in a tone devoid of emotional fluctuation, "Of course. Life without Satoru is exceptionally lonely. Every day is spent in the agony of not having Satoru; not seeing Satoru makes every second a total mess."

Gojo Satoru kicked a small pebble in front of him, his sunglasses crooked on the bridge of his nose. "You don't have to go that far. You're really being perfunctory, Sei~"

Takizawa Sei made a shallow face at him, then opened the door with a smile.

"..."

His smile drooped.

The room was as messy as if it had just been robbed.

Gojo Satoru entered with a dark face, looking around. "Someone has been here."

"Anyone with eyes can see that." Takizawa Sei was as cautious as if he couldn't disturb a crime scene. "Can you tell anything from the cursed energy remnants?"

"Yeah, whoever came here wasn't an ordinary person."

"The group that ambushed me?" Takizawa Sei picked up a palm-sized puppet that had been thrown on the floor. "After my face was exposed, it's easy to track down my identity information in this era."

Takizawa Sei and Gojo Satoru carefully inspected the room and found that the intruder's intent to destroy was very obvious. Takizawa Sei finally concluded, "My toothbrush was taken, the pillow was searched—possibly to collect hair..."

DNA testing.

Or perhaps it was to be used for something else.

Being studied like that by some unknown entity was disgusting just to think about.

"The feel of this scene..." Gojo Satoru stroked his chin in thought. "It's a bit like they're looking for a secret you've hidden."

"They're investigating how I was resurrected, aren't they?"

"Exactly. They are checking if you used some forbidden art. Such a technique that defies the will of heaven must have a vessel, or a symbol, or a pattern."

Ha, how could there be such a thing?

Takizawa Sei thought.

Because he had appeared out of thin air.

He quickly tidied up the house; after all, it should be clean when returned to the landlord. Then he found the letters tucked into his notebook in the drawer and carefully placed them into the folder the assistant supervisor had given him.

The assistant supervisor looked at the crooked handwriting on the paper. "Why would he write you a suicide note...?"

He knew Takizawa Sei's identity. Although he had never met the person himself, during training he was often urged: *Do not mention Takizawa Sei's name in front of the Six Eyes; even if you hear rumors about him from others, suppress your own curiosity.*

Rumors about him.

About that ethereal, silent, bloody rumor.

—Takizawa Sei had no family.

A dying wish always carries a deeper meaning. It is not an answer to be delivered to the person, but merely a prayer, a thought.

"Is there a reason for it? He had words he didn't get to say to me." Takizawa Sei glanced at him. "Although it was written with great difficulty—the handwriting is almost illegible—and the logic was chaotic due to him being on his deathbed, I have already felt his heart."

Touching the objects brought up the feelings. Takizawa Sei asked unintentionally, "By the way, Satoru, did I leave a suicide note back then?"

Ah... my big mouth.

Takizawa Sei wanted to bite off his own tongue. "Asking that sounds like I'm brain-damaged. Just pretend you didn't hear it."

"..." Gojo Satoru squatted in the corner and said, "...No. Even if there was, that thing wouldn't be called a suicide note now; it would just be considered a letter you left behind."

Hmm, that's true. Takizawa Sei couldn't imagine himself writing a suicide note either. He could only have died to protect Gojo Satoru; if he had had enough time to write a suicide note, Shoko would have revived him to full health long ago.

He took the important things, sorted the trash briskly into plastic bags, and then there was nothing left in the apartment worth lingering over.

"Let's go." Takizawa Sei stood by the door. "The landlord will come to check the room in a couple of days. Satoru, come with me to take out the trash."

Gojo Satoru withdrew his gaze from the graffiti on the wallpaper. He pointed at the simple sketches. "What are these? Did you draw them?"

Takizawa Sei paused. "...Yes, I drew them."

"What on earth are these drawings... I didn't notice them a couple of days ago."

It was hard to explain.

On the wall were drawings of Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya.

When Takizawa Sei had first been discharged from the hospital, he felt hollow inside. He wasn't addicted to video games, nor did he have other prominent hobbies. Living alone, he was mostly bored. Since he didn't have a single photograph with his best friends and couldn't record these secret-like experiences in conspicuous text, he could only draw simple sketches for comfort.

Fortunately, Takizawa Sei's drawings were quite whimsical—he was a fan of abstract stick figures. He didn't just draw Dazai and Chuuya; he drew the cross-sea bridge, hats flying away, roaring and twisted cursed spirits, and a bandaged figure jumping off a building.

Takizawa Sei: "Just random doodles. This side of the wallpaper was meant for scribbling."

Gojo Satoru revealed the solemn and lonely expression Takizawa Sei had seen often over the last two days.

His fingertips lightly slid over the jumping bandaged figure.

The wallpaper in such a corner seemed to interpret the artist's precarious psychological state.

Takizawa Sei's eyes were subtle. "Satoru, are you thinking about something strange?"

"No."

Takizawa Sei took a rag and wiped the masterpiece right in front of him, the ink instantly blurring into a smear. "There, it's gone. Come with me to take out the trash~"

He took Gojo Satoru's hand and dragged him out the door.

The nearest trash point was a bit further away. Gojo Satoru tilted his head back, yawning, not looking at the road at all, relying entirely on the force of Takizawa Sei's tugging.

Takizawa Sei looked at his trembling white eyelashes and laughed. "So sleepy. How long did you argue with the old geezers?"

"They annoyed the hell out of me. You're still laughing? I haven't slept for two days, and after I took you to Shoko's, I stayed with you all night too."

"Didn't Shoko kick you out while she was working?"

Gojo Satoru's expression paused, and he said meaningfully, "The situation is different."

Back from the dead—the situation was indeed very different.

Takizawa Sei understood. He threw away the trash and pulled Gojo Satoru in a different direction; it was clearly not the way back.

"Where are we going~?"

"To offer an apology to Jinpei."

Gojo Satoru muttered, "How did he save you back then..."

This point was easy to turn into a knot in the heart.

If Takizawa Sei hadn't waited for rescue that night, he didn't dare think about what would have happened.

"My consciousness was quite blurred, too. I kept muttering your name." Takizawa Sei admitted, "I won't lie to you, I only held on because of you. The only image in my mind at that time was your face."

Gojo Satoru stopped in his tracks.

He gazed at Takizawa Sei's face. The wind rushing in from the street brushed against his hair, and in the swaying white shadows, he saw the green-eyed youth standing there vividly.

Takizawa Sei leaned forward. "...Satoru, are you blushing?"

"..."

"Hahahahaha, you're blushing!!"

Takizawa Sei laughed arrogantly and mercilessly. "That's rare, that's rare, Satoru! You didn't even try to argue~!"

"Bang—!"

A loud noise came from the distance.

Takizawa Sei's body stiffened. The scattered pedestrians on the street froze in terror, then looked in the direction the sound came from with panic.

"What was that—?"

"An explosion? Was that gunfire?"

"How terrifying... let's get home quickly..."

"Bang!"

Another loud noise. Gojo Satoru withdrew his gaze from the distance and said, "Sei, should we go take a—Sei?"

His eyes widened. Takizawa Sei had almost collapsed to the ground, his knees hitting the floor hard. He curled up into a ball, his face deathly pale, and he covered his ears with hands that were trembling violently.