Chapter 2

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The dimly lit room was heavy with tension, the air electric as Yaga-sensei, a formidable figure, stood at the forefront. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his expression bore the weight of authority and severity. Before him knelt the group of second-years, their heads bowed in a display of respect mingled with apprehension.

"One of you three said they would cast the veil themselves and left your assistant supervisor behind, didn't you?" Yaga-sensei's voice cut through the silence like a blade, the accusation hanging heavily in the air.

"And then you forgot the veil," he continued, his words infused with a mixture of frustration and incredulity, each syllable hitting the room like a jolt.

"Come forward," Yaga-sensei's command resonated, his voice unwavering as he beckoned them to step into the center of the room.

But before any of them could react, Satoru's voice broke through the charged atmosphere. "Sensei! Why don't we stop this hunt for the culprit?!" His words were laced with a sense of urgency, a plea for reason in the midst of turmoil.

Yaga-sensei's gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Satoru. "So it was you, Satoru," he deduced, his assessment swift and unforgiving. With a sudden movement, Yaga-sensei's hand shot out, landing a chastising blow on the top of Satoru's head.

--

The gym provided a sanctuary of relative calm after the storm of tension that had unfolded in the earlier meeting with Yaga-sensei. The second-year students found themselves in various states of relaxation, each attempting to recover from the weighty atmosphere that still lingered in their thoughts.

Satoru, nursing a knot on his head where Yaga-sensei's reprimand had landed, leaned against the floor with a pout on his face. Akira, ever the soothing presence, sat beside him, gently tending to the injury as Satoru grumbled in discomfort.

"Is a veil necessary in the first place? It's not like it matters if normies see or not, right? They can't see cursed spirits or cursed techniques, anyway," Satoru ventured, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and skepticism, perhaps as a way to distract himself from the ache on his head.

Suguru, nearby, took a moment to consider the question before responding. "Of course, it's not good for them to see. The strongest deterrent against the outbreak of a cursed spirit is the mental calm of the populace. That's exactly why we have to conceal the threats they can't even see as much as possible," he explained, his tone measured and thoughtful.

"And that's not all—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Looking out for the weak is so exhausting," Satoru interrupted, his words edged with a hint of sarcasm. He then shifted, placing his head in Akira's lap, seemingly finding comfort in the gesture as Akira's fingers gently combed through his stark white hair.

"Survival of the weakest. That's how a society should be. The weak help each other and discourage any who are too strong," Satoru continued, his voice now muffled against the fabric of Akira's pants.

Suguru's response was firm, underlining his perspective. "Listen, Satoru. Jujutsu exists to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers," he stated, his tone unwavering, carefully watching the duo.

Satoru's resistance remained strong, his frustration bubbling up once more. "Is that your moral argument? I hate moral arguments. What? Assigning reasons and responsibility to strength is what those who are weak do," he retorted, his voice laced with defiance.

In a swift motion, Satoru stood up and picked up a basketball that had rolled nearby. With practiced ease, he aimed and effortlessly shot it into the net.

"Quit making yourself feel better by spouting bullshit, Blegh," Satoru teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Run for it," Ieiri's voice called out, her words punctuated by the sound of her footsteps as she darted out of the gym. Akira, however, remained seated, intrigued by the brewing confrontation.

"Want to take this outside, Satoru?" Suguru's voice held a challenge, his demeanor unyielding as he met Satoru's gaze. Behind him, a looming figure materialized – a massive curse with a sinister aura that sent a shiver down the spines of those present.

Satoru's smirk, if anything, only widened. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and recklessness. "You feeling lonely? Go by yourself," he retorted, his tone dripping with confidence and a touch of mockery.

As the tension escalated, the gym seemed to contract, suffused with electric energy that crackled between the two sorcerers. 

Akira, who had been watching the verbal sparring with mild amusement, now found himself leaning forward, his interest piqued. The clash of ideologies was about to be embodied in a far more tangible manner, the looming curse standing as a silent testament to the stakes of their confrontation.

Amidst the playful banter and the charged atmosphere, the gym's door swung open, its creak echoing in the room and drawing the attention of everyone inside. Yaga-sensei's voice cut through the tension like a blade, his words carrying the weight of authority and exasperation. "How long are you going to keep fooling around? Where did Shoko go?"

The lingering aura of the looming curse seemed to dissipate into the air, leaving behind an almost eerie silence. The gym, once vibrant with emotions, appeared to exhale as the weight of Yaga-sensei's presence settled over the room. Satoru and Suguru, caught in the midst of their mock stretching, exchanged amused glances, while Akira found himself unable to suppress a soft chuckle from his position on the floor.

"Who knows?" Suguru's voice was nonchalant, his response a casual shrug.

"Bathroom, probably," Satoru chimed in, his tone matching the easygoing atmosphere that had taken over the room.

Yaga-sensei's expression hardened, his gaze shifting between the two. "Whatever. This mission is being assigned to you two," he declared, his finger pointing at Satoru and Suguru with an unwavering gesture.

Two pairs of eyebrows raised in unison, expressions shifting from casual to incredulous.

"What are those faces for?" Yaga-sensei's voice held a mixture of curiosity and sternness as he observed their reactions.

"Nothing," Satoru and Suguru responded almost in unison, their expressions morphing into matching pouts as they attempted to regain their composure. 

As their gazes shifted, they noticed Akira's amused smile from where he was still seated on the floor. Satoru and Suguru exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. With synchronized movements, they extended their hands toward Akira, offering assistance to help him stand.

"Need a hand?" Suguru's voice was light, a playful grin playing on his lips.

Satoru nodded, his own smile mirroring Suguru's. "Yeah, let us help you up."

Akira's eyes sparkled with warmth as he accepted their help, their hands supporting him as he rose to his feet. 

"Thanks, guys," Akira said, his voice sincere as he locked eyes with each of them in turn. "Good luck on your mission."

Satoru and Suguru exchanged glances once again, a fleeting moment that held a depth of emotion that words couldn't fully capture. With a shared nod, they turned their attention back to Akira, their expressions softening.

"Thanks, Akira," Satoru said, his voice tinged with a warmth that resonated deeply.

"Take care, Akira," Suguru's voice was laced with a sincerity that resonated in the room.

"Yeah, we'll be back before you know it," Satoru's tone held a touch of playfulness, a mask for the genuine concern that lingered just beneath the surface.

And as Satoru and Suguru left the gym, stepping into the unknown of their mission, Akira watched them go with a mix of emotions, feeling uneasy about this mission.

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