17 The Strongest (8)

Saitama.

On the bustling street, pedestrians came and went like a school of fish crossing a river.

Nakahara Chūya stood atop a rooftop, looking down at the passing crowd, bored, and asked Dazai Osamu beside him, “Where are we going?”

Dazai stood shoulder to shoulder with him, also looking down at the area they had circled. “Satoru Gojo’s destination is within this range.”

Nakahara wrinkled his nose. “So we’re going to stroll around here until Gojo shows up?”

“Chūya, don’t be so impatient. We’re not short on time,” Dazai said, glancing toward a distant campus. “We don’t need to be seen by Gojo himself.”

Nakahara gave Dazai an amused look and deliberately dragged out his words, “Oh, so now we’re not short on time.”

“Exactly, after all, we’re dealing with Satoru Gojo,” Dazai replied lightly.

Regarded as the strongest in the Jujutsu world, Dazai gave Gojo absolute respect. He knew well the arrogance of these extraordinary beings; even among those with supernatural abilities, none dared claim to be the strongest, not even the so-called “Transcenders” who could single-handedly wipe out entire cities.

How powerful must one be to crush all sorcerers and cursed spirits and be universally acknowledged as the strongest?

Nakahara understood this too; otherwise, he wouldn’t be so fixated on “Domain Expansion.”

But it didn’t matter—they had defeated more than one of these “Transcenders” as long as the two of them were together.

Dazai cast a dark look at Nakahara: as long as they were together.

Ignoring Dazai’s gaze, Nakahara tapped his toes on the rooftop and complained, “What’s so fun about shopping…”

They couldn’t be seen by anyone right now, so even if they liked something, they couldn’t buy it.

“We can order by mail,” Dazai suggested nonchalantly. Their recent plunder from cursed sorcerers had afforded them enough wealth to live comfortably for some time; some sorcerers even had savings.

“Mail order, huh…” Nakahara sneered, “Fixed address?”

Dazai said casually, “Just get a mailbox.”

Nakahara stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“With the efficiency of the Jujutsu world…” Dazai sneered, “By the time they find us… I’m overestimating them. Maybe they won’t find us at all.”

Nakahara twitched his mouth. “Watch out for a shipwreck in the gutter!”

“Is that even possible, Chūya?” Dazai flashed a confident smile.

Nakahara snorted, unable to argue.

“Let’s go.” Nakahara jumped off the eaves and landed lightly on the ground. “Aren’t we supposed to go shopping?”

Dazai landed beside him and leisurely strode forward. “Let’s go.”

They walked slowly along the long street, the passersby ignoring them as if they existed in a completely different dimension.

Nakahara asked curiously, “What’s the difference between cursed spirits and ghosts?”

“Cursed spirits have physical forms; ordinary people just can’t see them,” Dazai explained.

Nakahara stood before a shop window, looking at the hat on the mannequin inside, then touched the hat on his own head thoughtfully. “If I changed my hat, would ordinary people see it?”

“A hat floating in midair?” Dazai said with interest. “That would become a new urban legend. According to the rules of this world, maybe someday there’ll be a hat cursed spirit or something… Wow, does that mean Chūya is going to be a father?!”

Nakahara’s eyes widened in shock and disgust as he glared at Dazai. “Are you crazy, Dazai?!”

“Lighten up a bit, Chūya,” Dazai said cheerfully. “I guess if you put a hat on your head, it would become invisible too.”

But Nakahara had already lost interest in the new hat under Dazai’s hypothetical scenario.

He looked regretfully at the hat in the window. It was a very nice hat, but all he could think about now was Dazai’s terrifying remarks—about his future ‘child’...

Nakahara closed his eyes painfully.

Dazai admired Nakahara’s expression and happily commented, “But your taste is as awful as ever!”

Nakahara retorted sarcastically, “I don’t think someone wrapped head-to-toe in bandages is in a position to criticize my taste.”

Dazai clicked his tongue. “Since when did you get so mean, Chūya?”

“I’ve always been like this around you,” Nakahara said with conviction.

Dazai replied even more confidently, “The bandages are part of my being.”

Nakahara said, “The hat is the same for me.”

Dazai protested, “My bandages get changed every day!”

Nakahara scoffed, “I have lots of hats, too!”

Dazai sneered, “What’s the point if you don’t wear them?”

“I do wear them sometimes!” Nakahara argued.

“When?” Dazai feigned surprise. “I don’t remember you wearing a sleeping cap to bed!”

“Can’t I switch hats once in a while?!” Nakahara retorted angrily.

Dazai smirked, “So you’re finally willing?”

Nakahara said matter-of-factly, “Hats need maintenance, too, you know!”

“Hah!” Dazai scoffed. “You really do like that hat!”

Nakahara sighed in frustration. Dazai’s teasing of his hat had become relentless.

He knew why. Not just because of Rimbaud, but because this hat was a gift from Mr. Mori.

And he couldn’t even retort by calling Dazai petty like before.

Nakahara loosened the choker around his neck, feeling stifled.

What had he done wrong to end up with Dazai again? If he’d known the other was this persistent... well, he didn’t seem to have any choice.

Realizing he was utterly trapped, Nakahara gritted his teeth.

Dazai wore a smug smile. “Chūya, are you feeling rebellious?”

Nakahara shot him a resentful glare.

Dazai’s smile deepened, but his words turned sharper: “You deserve it!”

Nakahara gloomily left the hat shop, planning to find a wine shop to drown his frustrations.

No vineyard would deliver to him on time now.

“If you want, I can help,” Dazai said casually. “I remember a few vineyards sell online.”

Nakahara frowned and said hesitantly, “Forget it. I don’t have a proper place to store wine right now.”

Storing red wine requires many considerations: constant temperature, darkness, ventilation, laying bottles flat... Given their current situation, it was better to buy only when they wanted to drink.

Maybe the taste wouldn’t be as good, but choosing wine oneself could be a pleasure.

“We won’t be homeless forever,” Dazai said in a tone as if offended, “Do you think we’ll keep running forever, Chūya?”

“I never said that,” Nakahara replied, a teasing and provocative smile tugging at his lips.

Dazai narrowed his eyes, clearly provoked, and feigned offense. “Since you say that, I won’t mind preparing a doghouse for you! Don’t worry, it’ll be a very luxurious doghouse.”

“Fine, we’ll see who ends up living there!” Nakahara didn’t care what Dazai said; he breezily headed toward a wine shop on the other side of the street to pick out some red wine.

Dazai followed, grumbling, “Chūya, you’re way too confident!”

Nakahara stood amid the shop shelves, pleased as he admired the array of wines. He waved dismissively. “What? Don’t you have confidence in yourself?”

Dazai hissed like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, “Of course not!”

Nakahara ignored Dazai’s grumbles and scanned the shop.

Suddenly, his eyes brightened as if he had spotted a breathtaking beauty. He looked at the wine that caught his heart’s desire, then turned to Dazai with joy in his gaze. “Dazai, can we just buy it outright?”

No surveillance, payment by card—just a little maneuvering, and who would remember how many customers came in each day?

“You’re getting better at bossing people around, aren’t you?” Dazai said, looking at Nakahara’s sparkling blue eyes and mockingly complaining as he made some noise to clear space for the clerk and started handling the shop’s system.

After a while, Nakahara happily left the shop carrying the wine that was already his.

Dazai walked beside him, teasing, “If that wine started flying through the air…”

“Stop!” Nakahara called out just in time. He didn’t want to hear Dazai’s ‘father and child theory’ again; it would ruin his appetite.

Having acquired the wine he desired, Nakahara’s mood was as bright as the sunshine outside.

Dazai looked at his radiant face and curled his lips, “Chūya is always so easy to please!”

Nakahara replied casually, “Yeah, much more than you!”

Dazai said incredulously, “Are you betraying me now?!”

Nakahara seemed to just realize this and glanced at Dazai with some guilt. “...Just pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Heh!” Dazai said. “Don’t forget the wine in your arms…” He drew out the last word.

“Tch!” Nakahara said reluctantly. “Fine, I’ll give you half!”

“It was always supposed to be half mine!” Dazai said, dissatisfied.

The two bickered as they walked down the street, the passersby fading into the background.

The school bell rang, and as they passed the school gate, they brushed past a black-haired, green-eyed middle school boy.

Fushiguro Megumi initially paid little attention to the noisy pair, only glancing once or twice because of their loudness.

But as they passed, he sensed the cursed energy waves belonging to cursed spirits emanating from them.

A stunned expression slowly dawned on Fushiguro’s face. He turned in shock to search for them, only to find they had vanished without a trace.

—Those were… cursed spirits?!