That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B! Chapter 470: The Vessel of Sukuna (Patreon)

"Nooooo! Please help me! I need your help!"

Gojo whined dramatically, clinging and wailing with the exact same pathetic energy as Nobita begging Doraemon for a gadget.

"No."

Suzuki didn't even look up. He simply ignored the overgrown, blindfolded child, taking a slow sip of his coffee while turning a page of Albert Einstein's Relativity: The Special and the General Theory.

"Please!" Gojo persisted, his loud, grating voice echoing through the traditional engawa.

"If you need help, go bother your own clan." Suzuki shifted his foot just enough to block Gojo from physically clinging to his leg. "The Gojo Clan is one of the Big Three. Surely you have someone within your clan who can talk to the Elders."

"As expected of Suzuki-kun! You already know I want to cause trouble for the higher-ups!" Even through the rejection, Gojo grinned, entirely pleased that Suzuki instantly understood his problem. "But you know how ridiculously stubborn those old fossils are. Even if I am the strongest, there are lines I can cross and lines I can't..."

Gojo sighed dramatically, lamenting the fact that despite standing at the absolute pinnacle of jujutsu, he couldn't just freely enjoy his life.

Suzuki, on the other hand, was the exact opposite.

Even if Suzuki wasn't technically "the strongest" in raw, destructive output, he enjoyed his life to the absolute fullest. He possessed everything a man could want: insurmountable wealth, absolute political authority, and the romantic companionship he desired. To the rest of the jujutsu world, Suzuki was living the ultimate dream.

Yet, Gojo? Despite his godlike power, he worked like a dog. He jumped from one cursed spirit to another, desperately trying to play the hero, shielding the innocent from the relentless horrors of their society. He was the strongest weapon in the world, yet he still played by the rules set by weak, cowardly Elders who possessed nothing but outdated authority and deep-rooted connections.

Why did Gojo tolerate it?

If Suzuki had to analyze it, it boiled down to Gojo being a traditionalist. His upbringing had never shown him an alternative. When the entire world points you down a single, predetermined path, you tend to follow it, completely blind to the trails branching off into the woods.

Why hadn't Gojo forged a new path? Because he wasn't sure if tearing down the old system would actually build a better one. The path laid out for him was stable and secure. Why gamble with the foundation of society? Furthermore, because Gojo was born the strongest—because every obstacle simply melted before him—he never possessed the desperate drive to innovate outside the established rules.

Suzuki was different.

Suzuki walked paths no one else had ever dared to tread. By fusing modern physics with his inherited Projection Sorcery, he had evolved beyond the old limitations of the Zenin clan. The traditionalists despised him for it, and Suzuki knew perfectly well they would have assassinated him before he could have claimed the title of Clan Head if they could have. But he had climbed too high, too fast. Now, he was an unstoppable force.

Currently, he restricted his tyranny mostly to the economic sector, monopolizing the money flowing through the jujutsu world. Because he hadn't forcefully overhauled the sorcery society itself, the Elders breathed a collective sigh of relief.

If Suzuki knew what they were thinking, he would have just smiled. How cute and naive.

Regardless of the politics, Suzuki now comfortably occupied the sprawling ancestral estate of the Gojo Clan—a spoil of war won after fighting Satoru Gojo to an absolute standstill. Yet, despite owning the deed, Suzuki knew it was physically impossible to stop Gojo from casually teleporting past the wards.

As for the remaining Gojo clan members attempting to reclaim their home? Suzuki knew they wouldn't dare. Gojo had likely warned them himself: if they provoked Suzuki, the newly modernized, ruthlessly efficient Zenin army would slaughter them to the last man.

Was Suzuki afraid of Gojo's retaliation?

Not in the slightest. Suzuki knew Gojo couldn't defeat him. If the "strongest" couldn't secure a victory, his title was useless. And Gojo wouldn't dare wipe out the Zenin clan because he knew Suzuki was ruthless enough to escalate the conflict to something that couldn't be imagined. 

Still, despite their cold war, Suzuki had to admit: Gojo was incredibly shameless.

"Come on! Please help me take care of this kid!" Gojo whined, suddenly shoving the young, pink-haired teenager who had teleported in with him into Suzuki's line of sight.

This was Gojo's true purpose. If Suzuki formally backed this boy, his safety in the public sphere would be guaranteed. The Elders wouldn't dare touch someone under the protection of the Zenin Clan's absolute dictator. As for private assassinations? Gojo knew the boy would have to face those hardships himself.

Suzuki completely ignored the teenager, keeping his eyes glued to his physics textbook. "I don't mind providing political cover. But in exchange, bring Megumi here."

"........"

The playful atmosphere instantly vanished. Gojo fell dead silent.

"Megumi? You mean Fushiguro? The spiky black-haired guy?" the teenager blinked, recognizing the name, though Suzuki completely ignored him.

"Yup," Suzuki nodded, finally closing his book and taking a sip of his coffee. "I am the head of the Zenin Clan now. Unlike my father, I do not discriminate against anyone based on old traditions. As long as someone carries the blood of the Zenin, I will provide for them."

He smiled—a gentle, caring expression that would have made any of his hidden Zenin guards roll their eyes. They knew perfectly well that beneath that handsome, angelic face resided a purely calculating demon.

"Megumi has been estranged from the main family because of his father's choices. That ends now. Bring him to me."

Gojo said absolutely nothing, his piercing Six Eyes analyzing Suzuki through the dark tint of his sunglasses.

"Geez..." Suzuki sighed, clearly amused by the heavy silence. A mocking grin spread across his face. "Are you afraid, Gojo?"

"Afraid? What?" The teenager looked frantically between the two men. The conversation had violently derailed from a friendly favor into an impossibly tense standoff.

Me? Afraid? Gojo scoffed internally. As the strongest sorcerer alive, what could he possibly fear? Nothing could defeat him.

Yet... Suzuki was a master of the unknown. If this ruthlessly intelligent dictator got his hands on the Ten Shadows Technique—the only technique historically recorded to have killed a Six Eyes user—what would happen? Even Gojo's brain couldn't predict the outcome. It was the exact reason every political faction, including Gojo himself, had quietly agreed to keep Megumi far away from Suzuki.

"Don't ask me stupid questions," Gojo finally replied, his voice dropping its playful lilt. "I'm not afraid of you. If you want Megumi, you'll have to submit a formal request to the Elders—"

"Ah. You are afraid."

"......"

"Gojo-kun is a chicken~!" Suzuki teased, mimicking a schoolyard taunt.

It worked flawlessly. A very visible vein throbbed on Gojo's forehead. Cursed energy began to passively surge off the Limitless Sorcerer, warping the air around the engawa.

But before the tension could snap into violence, a bizarre, arrogant voice interrupted them.

"You two have been ignoring me this whole time, huh?"

An ancient, raspy voice echoed from between them. "How about you let me in on the conversation?"

"Hey! Why did you start talking so suddenly?!" The teenager yelped, slapping a hand over his own cheek as a literal mouth manifested on the back of his hand. He wasn't surprised by the anatomical horror, merely by its terrible comedic timing.

"This is?" Suzuki finally lowered his coffee cup, his analytical gaze locking onto the mouth embedded in the boy's flesh.

"Ah, right! Let me introduce you," Gojo announced, instantly reverting to his cheerful persona. "This is Yuji Itadori! A very good boy I picked up in Sendai. From now on, he's going to be the newest first-year at Tokyo Jujutsu High."

"Ah, it's very nice to meet you, Sir!" Yuji bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle. He wasn't stupid. Anyone who could casually mock Satoru Gojo while lounging in a massive ancestral estate surrounded by hidden, terrifying guards was definitely a major VIP.

"Also," Gojo grinned, his teeth flashing with theatrical excitement, "he ate a finger belonging to Ryomen Sukuna~!"

Suzuki stared at the boy for two long seconds.

"Okay."

".........."

Both Gojo and Yuji froze, completely derailed. That absolute, deadpan lack of reaction was the exact opposite of what they had expected.