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

”Black Flash.”

Gojo lowered his sunglasses, letting out a long, highly impressed whistle.

The Black Flash was not an innately cursed technique; it was a phenomenally rare physical anomaly. To trigger this spatial distortion, a sorcerer had to apply cursed energy to a physical strike with absolute, microscopic precision—specifically within one-millionth of a second of the physical impact.

When that impossible timing was met, space distorted, the cursed energy flashed pitch black, and the attack experienced an astronomical surge in power. First, the sorcerer would instantly enter the ”Zone,” a state of absolute flow that allowed them to draw out 120% of their maximum potential. Second, and most terrifyingly, the destructive force of the strike was exponentially amplified.

Now, take Suzuki’s physics-breaking velocity, multiply it by his raw power, and amplify it through a Black Flash.

The resulting impact was so destructive that Sukuna, currently possessing Yuji’s body, was blown entirely across the sprawling estate. He violently crashed through the reinforced outer gates, snapping several ancient oak trees in half before finally coming to a halt in a cloud of dust and splintered wood.

Standing on the engawa, Suzuki let out a heavy, irritated sigh, staring at the ruined landscaping.

”You owe me money.”

”Hey! Hey! Hey!” Gojo immediately protested, waving his hands defensively. ”I am not the one who just punched a hole through the courtyard!”

After losing his family estate and having the majority of the lucrative high-grade missions monopolized by the Zenin Clan’s new corporate structure, the Gojo Clan’s income had taken a severe hit. How could Gojo afford to let go of his precious personal funds? If it were a small sum, he wouldn’t care. But he knew exactly how greedy and meticulous Suzuki was. Since taking over the property, Suzuki has upgraded the wards and architecture to an unbelievable standard. Repairing that gate was going to cost an absolute fortune.

Gojo could easily earn more money, but who wanted to work? He had already spent his entire time working himself to the bone as the pillar of the jujutsu world. He was officially on strike against unnecessary labor!

”You’re the one who brought him here,” Suzuki stated coldly, his eyes narrowing.

”.....”

Gojo wisely shut his mouth.

”You’re going to handle some off-the-books work for me to pay for that gate,” Suzuki ordered.

”Fine, okay...” Gojo sighed in defeat, but his expression quickly shifted into something far more earnest. ”But in exchange, help me take care of the kid, okay? At least provide enough political cover to stop the Elders from bullying him to death.”

The Elders were absolute cowards. They would try to execute Yuji immediately, terrified of allowing the vessel containing the greatest disaster of the Heian Era to exist. Gojo, however, suspected that Suzuki wouldn’t just see a threat. Suzuki would see a profit margin.

”What is your actual goal here?” Suzuki asked, turning to face the blindfolded sorcerer. ”Are you just bored and looking for an excuse to fight a monster from the past? Or can you genuinely not bear to see a clueless teenager executed?”

”That’s a stupid question.” Gojo smiled softly. ”Aren’t you already perfectly clear on what I want to do?”

Suzuki stared at Gojo for a long moment before turning his gaze toward the ruined gate. He wasn’t worried about Sukuna running away. For a being of such supreme arrogance, fleeing after taking a single punch was functionally impossible; it would shatter his pride.

Sukuna was the undisputed strongest of his era. So how was he defeated and sealed in the first place? It wasn’t the Gojo Clan, nor was it the Zenin Clan. Ultimately, the only person who could defeat Sukuna was Sukuna himself. He had willingly allowed Kenjaku to seal his soul into cursed objects, banking on the chance to incarnate in the future and fight worthy opponents.

His gamble had paid off perfectly. Upon awakening in the modern era, he was immediately greeted by Gojo Satoru, the pinnacle of jujutsu, and Suzuki, an absolute, physics-bending anomaly.

Yet, for Suzuki, this wasn’t just about fighting strong opponents. Despite his ruthless exterior, he harbored a deep-seated disgust with how the jujutsu world operated. He despised seeing young, thrust-into-the-world sorcerers treated as isolated outcasts or disposable trash by the system.

Instead of letting them be chewed up and thrown away by the Elders, Suzuki wanted to elevate them. He wanted Jujutsu Sorcerers to be the absolute apex of society—an untouchable, elite one percent that the powerless masses could only envy. While the majority of the world broke their backs working average jobs until they died, Suzuki wanted his sorcerers living in absolute luxury, wielding both magical and economic supremacy.

Was that a cruel, elitist worldview? Perhaps. But Suzuki knew perfectly well that the current system—where the Elders worked young sorcerers to the bone and discarded their corpses without a second thought—was infinitely crueler.

Sorcerers made up less than one percent of the global population. Instead of banding together to secure a monopoly on global power and wealth, they allowed themselves to be divided and exploited by a council of decrepit old men. Suzuki intended to fix that, even if he had to ruin the entire country or the world to do it.

”You are so surprisingly kind, Suzuki-kun,” Gojo cooed, a dreamy, teasing expression spreading across his face as he watched Suzuki silently prepare for battle. Even without a verbal confirmation, Gojo knew Suzuki had just silently agreed to take Yuji under his wing.

”Shut the hell up,” Suzuki snapped, visibly annoyed. ”I will triple your repair bills if you keep talking.”

”Aw, you’re such a tsundere~! How cute~!”

As Gojo laughed openly, Suzuki made a silent vow to refine Projection Sorcery until he could shatter Infinity and punch this bastard in the throat.

Meanwhile, at the end of the courtyard, Sukuna lay buried under a pile of shattered wood and stone, having been put on his back by a single, blinding strike.

He’s so strong...

Deep within his innate domain, Yuji watched the outside world in absolute awe. He had assumed that once Sukuna took over, the ancient curse would be an unstoppable force of nature. Yet, this sharp-eyed man in the luxurious kimono had just casually swatted him across a garden.

Are you really the King of Curses? Yuji couldn’t help but ask his unwanted tenant.

Thick, bulging veins erupted across Sukuna’s forehead. The sheer disrespect from both the modern sorcerer and his own bratty vessel sent a spike of white-hot fury through his chest. Yet, as he pushed the rubble off his shoulders, a savage, bloodthirsty grin slowly stretched across his face. This modern era was proving to be more entertaining than he had anticipated.

”Hmm....”

Standing on the engawa, Suzuki felt the suffocating, dense wave of cursed energy erupt from the dust cloud. He let out a quiet sigh, setting his coffee cup down on the wooden railing. He was going to have to fight this out.

When the dust finally cleared, Suzuki and Sukuna locked eyes across the ruined courtyard.

Without another word, the two monsters stepped forward.