That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

”Tell your family they have exactly two weeks to vacate the premises. If they don’t, I will personally show up to evict them.”

Suzuki didn’t hesitate. The second Gojo enthusiastically signed the magically binding land transfer deed, Suzuki officially foreclosed on the entire ancestral Gojo estate.

Was it a cruel punishment?

Not really. It was actually incredibly merciful. Compared to Gojo—who had fully intended to reduce Suzuki to a drooling, brain-damaged vegetable and leave him hospitalized for years—Suzuki merely wanted the Gojo Clan’s real estate portfolio.

And Gojo agreed to it with a smile, because he knew he couldn’t actually stop him.

To Gojo, it was crystal clear: Suzuki Zenin was a terrifying pragmatic sociopath. He didn’t care about the traditional rules of Jujutsu sorcery, and he was absolutely ruthless toward anyone who crossed him.

If there was a reason Suzuki didn’t actually push his limits and try to physically kill Gojo right there, it was because he never actually wanted Gojo as an enemy.

Suzuki knew his Frame Deletion had extreme potential. If he desperately overclocked his brain, he knew he might find a highly specific, mathematical gap to permanently bypass Infinity and actually kill Satoru Gojo. But what would be the price?

What would happen if the world found out a college nerd had successfully killed the strongest man alive?

Suzuki would instantly become the ultimate monster. He would be targeted by the entire world. There would be a never-ending, exhausting string of elite assassinations. Not to mention, all the terrifying, apocalyptic villains currently hiding in the shadows because they feared Gojo would immediately surface to ruin the world!

And the politics! The absolute headache of managing the geopolitical fallout!

When Suzuki ran the calculations, he realized the ROI (Return-on-Investment) of keeping Gojo alive was vastly superior. He wasn’t afraid of trouble, but if he could avoid it by keeping Gojo alive as a giant, flashing lightning rod to attract all the world’s villains while Suzuki comfortably managed his wealth... why wouldn’t he?

”Did you just think something incredibly rude about me?” Gojo asked, peering over his blindfold.

”I did,” Suzuki admitted flatly.

”...”

”From this exact moment, all of your family’s prime real estate legally belongs to me. Go home and tell your elders to start packing, ’Strongest’.”

”.....” Gojo stared at him. ”...Do you seriously not care about anything except money?”

Gojo understood that money made the world go round, but frankly, even if he lost every single yen he owned, he wouldn’t care. He was practically a god; he could always find a way to get what he wanted.

”It’s not that I only care about money. It’s just the most realistic, universally understood punishment in the modern era,” Suzuki sighed, looking at Gojo with deep boredom. ”I am fundamentally different from you. I don’t seek to physically kill my enemies. That’s too messy, dirty, and legally complicated. Instead of killing them, I’d rather force them to work for me and generate revenue. It’s much more beneficial for society, wouldn’t you agree?”

”.....”

So, Suzuki had spared him purely because Gojo still possessed geopolitical value?

It was the first time in Gojo’s entire life he had been treated like a depreciating corporate asset. Usually, people either treated him like a terrifying monster, worshipped him like a deity, or acted subservient.

Because of that intense isolation, Gojo often acted like an obnoxious clown. It was a deliberate defense mechanism to humanize himself. If he acted like the untouchable god he actually was, everyone would distance themselves. Acting like a goofy idiot was the only way he could get people to comfortably approach him.

”...I genuinely don’t know what to say to you,” Gojo admitted, experiencing a strange mix of fascination and mild offense. Suzuki was simply built different.

”Then don’t say anything. Just tell your family to pack their bags. But don’t worry, I am not a complete devil. If you guys want to pack up a few ancient treasures to run away with, I won’t report it as theft. But the land, the estates, and the immovable assets belong to the Zenin Clan now. You should probably break the news gently, or your family is going to curse you to death.”

”They won’t,” Gojo grinned. ”They’re too weak.”

”That’s very true,” Suzuki nodded mockingly. ”You are the strongest, after all.”

Gojo frowned. ”Was that sarcasm?”

”Yes.”

”I really like you.”

”I strongly dislike you.”

Gojo just laughed happily, entirely unfazed by the fact that he had just gambled away his family’s ancestral home.

”But seriously,” Gojo leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. ”You managed to defend against Unlimited Void, but you couldn’t completely counter it, huh? Does that mean you don’t actually have a surefire way to kill me?”

”Why would I want to kill you?” Suzuki asked, genuinely confused.

”Don’t you hate me?”

”I do hate you. But do you honestly think you should just murder everyone you hate?” Suzuki looked at Gojo like he was completely insane. ”You are such a deeply messed-up guy.”

”....”

”Well, considering your entire life experience revolves around being a living weapon, I suppose it’s perfectly normal for you to default to murder,” Suzuki sighed.

”Right?” Gojo chuckled.

Being the strongest was exhausting. Gojo constantly had to prepare for the literal thousands of people who wanted him dead: assassins, Cursed Spirits, Curse Users, rival families, the Elders... everyone. It made him a universal target. He didn’t care because they were all weak, but it fundamentally skewed his worldview.

This was exactly why Suzuki had zero desire to be like Gojo. He knew Satoru was, deep down, a decent person trying to protect his students. But trying to be the ”good guy” in Jujutsu society was a miserable, thankless job.

”Take some sweets for the road,” Suzuki offered, gesturing to a plate of expensive pastries.

”Aww, you really are kind!”

”...Did you already forget that I just aggressively foreclosed on your home?”

”It’s fine, it’s fine! I’m the one who picked the fight anyway!” Gojo waved his hand dismissively. He knew that signing away the property was the absolute cheapest price he could have paid today.

Suzuki seemed relaxed right now, just wanting to drink his tea. But Gojo possessed the Six Eyes. He could see the terrifying, calculated depth of Suzuki’s cursed energy. Gojo knew that if Suzuki was genuinely pushed to the brink and truly angered, it would take a catastrophic, country-level war to stop him.

And Gojo wasn’t entirely sure he could win that war without horrific collateral damage.

”By the way...” Gojo suddenly turned toward the sliding doors. ”Maki! You’ve skipped classes at Tokyo High for weeks! Aren’t you coming back?”

Maki Zenin, who had been quietly standing guard just inside the living room, stepped out onto the veranda. She had been staying by Suzuki’s side the entire time.

”Everyone is waiting for you, you know!” Gojo teased lightly.

Especially Yuta, Gojo thought to himself, though he knew better than to say it out loud.

”No. I’m staying here, Gojo-sensei,” Maki replied firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Maki had already made up her mind. She was going to stay and support Suzuki as his right hand. She would probably officially drop out of Tokyo High soon. It wasn’t like she was incredibly close with her classmates anyway, and they could always stay friends from a distance, right?

Yet, as she said those firm words, her eyes briefly flicked down toward Suzuki, softening into a deeply gentle, protective gaze. She looked incredibly stunning in that moment, her strong, athletic frame relaxed, a faint blush dusting her cheeks as she looked at the young Clan Head. The subtle, entirely captivating shift in her normally stoic demeanor was incredibly tempting.

”Yuta is going to cry...” Gojo muttered under his breath, letting out a dramatic, helpless sigh.

”What was that?” Maki’s eyes snapped back to Gojo, instantly turning sharp and dangerous.

”Nothing, nothing!” Gojo quickly held up his hands in surrender before turning back to Suzuki. ”So, Suzuki0kun. What’s your grand plan now?”

”What do you mean?”

”Don’t play dumb with me.”

”I’m serious. What do you mean? Isn’t it incredibly obvious what I’ll be doing?”

What would Suzuki do?

Aside from aggressively accumulating wealth, living luxuriously, and taking care of the twins, he genuinely didn’t care about the rest of the world. He had zero ambition to radically change the status quo of Jujutsu society. It sounded entirely too troublesome. Managing the Zenin family’s corporate empire was enough for him. Besides, who was stupid enough to challenge him now?

”Instead of worrying about me, I highly suggest you mind your own business,” Suzuki said, taking a sip of his tea. ”I am perfectly fine as long as you leave me alone. You are the one who constantly causes trouble.”

”...”

Gojo pouted. ”So, you’re really not curious about my grand plans for the future?”

”I am not.”

”Why not?!”

”Because it’s just going to be some convoluted plot to overthrow the corrupt Elders and reform society with the power of friendship, right? What else could it possibly be?”

”Er...” Gojo scratched his cheek, slightly embarrassed that he was so predictable. ”Well... I’m still going to call you when I need a favor!”

”Please do not.”

”Too late~! See you later, Suzuki-kun~!”

Gojo didn’t even wait for a response. He threw up a peace sign and instantly vanished with a sharp pop of displaced air.

”...”

Suzuki stared at the empty space for a long moment. ”...I am definitely going to bill him for the structural damage to my sanity.”

He let out a long, shuddering breath. The adrenaline of fighting the strongest sorcerer alive was finally wearing off, leaving him utterly exhausted. His brain felt like it had been put through a blender. He just wanted to lie down right there on the wooden veranda and sleep for a week.

He slumped backward, expecting his head to hit the hard wooden floorboards.

Instead, he felt a sudden, incredibly soft, yielding warmth.

He blinked, looking straight up.

Maki had quietly slid onto the floor behind him just as he fell. She had caught him, allowing his exhausted head to rest perfectly against the incredibly soft, generous curve of her thighs.

Suzuki froze. The sensation was undeniably intoxicating. The firm, athletic strength of her legs combined with a gentle, plush softness that made his exhausted mind completely blank out. It was a deeply comfortable, incredibly tempting lap pillow.

Maki looked down at him, her usually sharp eyes filled with an undeniable, intoxicating tenderness. She gently ran her fingers through his messy hair, a faint, alluring flush coloring her cheeks as she leaned down slightly, her breath brushing against his forehead.

”Just rest for a while, okay?” she whispered softly, her voice carrying a sweet, irresistible warmth.

”...”

For once in his life, Suzuki Zenin didn’t try to calculate a single physics equation. He just closed his eyes, surrendered to the softness, and finally relaxed.

---

Komi-san aside, I never thought the Dragon Maid would be so popular.