That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B! Chapter 487: Rock, Paper, Scissors (Patreon)

How was Suzuki so fast?

Naturally, the secret of his speed was his cursed technique, Projection Sorcery. By compressing a predetermined movement into 24 distinct frames within a single second, he erased the process of traveling from Point A to Point B. The acceleration period was ignored. To an outside observer, he simply appeared at his destination as if he had teleported. But, unlike actual teleportation, Projection Sorcery retained the momentum of that instant movement.

Moving at hypersonic speeds and stopping instantaneously meant he carried a disaster-like kinetic force. It made his physical strikes devastating.

But sheer speed wasn't why Jogo failed.

Jogo failed because Suzuki didn't just have speed; he had precognition. By using fraction of his 'Manager' ability, Suzuki was constantly running high-speed calculations based on physics, cursed energy spikes, and opponent psychology. It wasn't true clairvoyance, but it was close enough. The Manager calculated every possible maneuver Jogo could make, narrowing the most likely outcomes down to a fraction of a second ahead of reality.

Before Jogo's neurons even fired the command to overwrite the domain, Suzuki already knew where he would be and what he would do.

Still, Suzuki had to give the fire curse credit where it was due. Jogo had forced him to coat his body in a dense layer of cursed energy just to survive the heat of the Coffin of the Iron Mountain.

Then again, I never expected him to use a Binding Vow to that extreme, Suzuki thought.

Binding Vows were the ultimate double-edged swords of jujutsu society. It was the favorite tool of Ryomen Sukuna, the ancient King of Curses. The concept was simple equivalent exchange: sacrifice something to gain something else.

If someone went entirely blind, their hearing naturally sharpened. A Binding Vow used that natural law in magic. A sorcerer could deliberately handicap themselves—for example, making an attack charge for a full second longer—in exchange for a massive boost in destructive power once it fired.

Jogo had taken the gamble. He sacrificed his ability to ever use Domain Expansion again, fully intending to kill Suzuki in a single strike. That sacrifice had strengthened his domain, making the temperature so hot that it would melt anything within its borders in less than a second it fully manifested.

But it wasn't enough.

Because before Jogo could even finish casting it, Suzuki had already swung his blade.

Yes, Jogo was powerful. But if you kill your opponent before they can pull the trigger, how can they possibly win? Speed was a simple power, but it was absolute. To win a fight, an opponent needs to struggle, to counter, to give their all. Suzuki simply stripped them of the right to fight back.

Yet without a doubt, as expected, the aftermath in Shibuya was absolute chaos.

First responders flooded the locations. To the government and the media, the disaster was quickly spun as a massive gas explosion beneath the streets of Shibuya. To the average citizen, the idea of invisible monsters tearing the city apart was pure fantasy. Unless you were born a sorcerer, you couldn't see the grotesque curses born from humanity's own negative emotions.

Naturally, Suzuki wasn't so heartless as to leave the scene completely unmanaged. He had used his Manager to covertly record the entire encounter, gathering invaluable data on Kenjaku and the disaster curses. But there was no need for him to stick around in the rubble. He had a massive organization to handle the cleanup.

Shortly after the blast, the members of the Zenin Clan quickly came to Suzuki's location—with the exception of his father, Naobito, who was currently enjoying a luxury vacation in Bordeaux.

"Shit, why the hell are we meeting in this cheap, shitty place?"

Naoya Zenin grumbled, looking around the brightly lit, completely normal family restaurant with disdain. He was annoyed by Suzuki usurping the clan, but under Suzuki's leadership, the Zenin Clan had reached a level of wealth and luxury that even Naoya couldn't complain about. He had quickly settled into the role of a spoiled, ultra-rich second-generation heir.

"Just relax and enjoy it, Naoya," Chojuro Zenin chuckled, taking a slow sip of the cheap black coffee he had ordered. "It's not terrible. I'm sure the Lord has his reasons."

Ogi Zenin, Maki's father, sat silently near the edge of the booth. He didn't speak, simply waiting for Suzuki to address the room. Being forced to answer to a young upstart was humiliating, but he knew his place in the current hierarchy. He was too weak to challenge it.

Meanwhile, Ranta, Jinichi, and the rest of the elite Hei soldiers were happily gorging themselves. Suzuki had officially booked the entire restaurant and told them to order whatever they wanted.

Naturally, the waitstaff was terrified, entirely convinced they were currently hosting a massive Yakuza summit.

Why had Suzuki chosen a random family restaurant?

Because he was starving.

He might be strong, but maintaining Mach 5 speeds and running precognitive simulations burned an astronomical amount of calories. The human body was frustratingly inefficient.

Ignoring Naoya's complaining, Suzuki devoured plate after plate: a massive cheese gratin, a doria bowl, two bowls of tonkotsu ramen, a double hamburger steak, and a mountain of fries.

"...Aren't you eating a little too much?" Naoya finally asked, staring in mild horror at the towering stack of empty plates.

"I'm still hungry," Suzuki replied smoothly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "But let's discuss what just happened in Shibuya. I'm sure you're all curious."

The atmosphere in the restaurant instantly shifted. The clinking of silverware stopped. Naoya, Ogi, Ranta, Jinichi, and the rest of the Hei went completely silent, listening intently as Suzuki calmly recounted his encounter with the disaster curses and the ancient curse user in Geto's body.

"Are you serious? You're saying their combat power is Special Grade?" Naoya asked, shock breaking through his usual arrogance.

He wasn't the only one. Ogi and the others looked deeply unsettled. Within the Zenin Clan, outside of Suzuki himself, their strongest fighters were only Grade 1. They were elite, yes, but facing a true Special Grade curse usually meant certain death.

"Did you kill them, Lord?" Ranta asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"I killed one," Suzuki said, taking a sip of iced tea. "But the rest escaped. Since I slaughtered their friend, they will likely hold a grudge. They might try to target you to get to me. You all need to be careful, because frankly, compared to them, you are weak."

"..."

A few of the prideful soldiers wanted to argue, but they physically couldn't. Suzuki wasn't taunting them; he was stating a fact.

"...Are they really so powerful that a Grade 1 cannot engage?" Ogi asked quietly, his pride stinging.

"They are weaker than Gojo, and I can kill them effortlessly," Suzuki clarified, leaning back in his booth. "And individually, most of you could probably handle the weaker one. But the core group is walking disasters. Do not engage them alone."

Suzuki looked around the room, making eye contact with his elites. He didn't want his valuable assets dying meaningless deaths due to bloated egos.

"If you encounter them, do not try to be a hero. Group up, fall back, and call me immediately," Suzuki ordered firmly. "If you try to show off and get yourselves killed, your final thought will just be immense regret over leaving behind the luxurious lives I've given you."

"..."

No one challenged him. Why would they?

Being the absolute strongest was one thing, but Suzuki's management had transformed the Zenin into the wealthiest organization in the entire country. They lived like kings. They had access to the best weapons, the best food, and limitless capital. That kind of comfort bred arrogance, yes, but it also bred absolute, unbreakable loyalty.

"Mei," Suzuki called out, glancing toward the corner booth.

Mei Mei sat quietly with her little brother, Ui Ui, delicately eating a slice of cake.

"You saw the photos I forwarded you of the targets. Use your crows. Keep an eye out for them," Suzuki instructed.

"Understood," Mei Mei smiled smoothly, taking another bite. "I will inform you the second they enter my network."

She was completely relaxed. She knew perfectly well that sitting in a room surrounded by Suzuki and the entirety of the Zenin elite made this cheap family restaurant the safest place on planet Earth. The disaster curses wouldn't dare set foot near here.

Suddenly, the bell above the restaurant door jingled violently.

One of the clan's lower-ranking intelligence officers rushed into the diner, panting heavily, his suit rumpled.

"Lord Suzuki! My Lord!" he shouted.

"Why the hell are you yelling in public?! Shut up!" Naoya barked, glaring at the man.

"What's the situation?" Suzuki asked, mildly amused by Naoya's sudden dedication to keeping the peace.

"T-The higher-ups!" The officer gasped for breath, holding up a sealed dispatch. "The Elders have just held an emergency meeting! They have officially classified you as a Special Grade Curse User and issued an execution order!"

"..."

The entire restaurant went dead silent.

Suzuki slowly raised an eyebrow. He looked at the trembling messenger, then casually looked around the room at his followers.

"Naoya. Ogi. Chojuro. Ranta. Jinichi. Mei." Suzuki called their names slowly, a faint, predatory smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "Do any of you want a promotion to be an Elder?"

"Hmm...?"

Naoya blinked, momentarily confused.

"We have a few vacant seats to fill," Suzuki chuckled, leaning back. "Why don't you guys play Rock-Paper-Scissors? The winners get to take over the Elders' positions."

"..."

For three seconds, no one moved.

Then, completely simultaneously, Naoya, Ranta, Jinichi, and Chojuro shot out of their booths, throwing their hands into the center of the aisle.

"ROCK! PAPER! SCISSORS!"

"Naoya, you cheating bastard! You used Projection Sorcery to change your hand!" Ranta screamed, pointing furiously at the heir.

"A win is a win, you slow idiot!" Naoya cackled, shoving Ranta backward.

Suzuki just laughed softly, picking up a French fry.

The Elders had just declared open war, and the Zenin Clan was treating it like a game.