The room went still as a graveyard. Rome's muscles tensed. Talking about his mother. Those words alone were enough to make his blood boil. But coming from the strongest sorcerer in the world? That was a whole new level of audacity.
"The last guy who talked about her is currently on the way to a hospital, Gojo." Rome's eyes narrowed. "Let's skip the family reunion. Why am I of such interest to you?"
Kirara's breath caught. They looked between Rome and Gojo with genuine alarm, like someone who'd just watched a toddler poke a sleeping tiger.
But instead of flattening Rome with some godly technique, Gojo threw his head back and laughed.
"Hah! This kid has spunk!" Gojo slapped his knee, his blindfolded face turned toward Rome with obvious delight. "You remind me of me. Handsome, talented, and a total pain in the ass."
Rome crossed his arms. "One: I'm taller. Two: my bandage goes on my forehead not my eyes."
Hakari snorted into his drink. Kirara's shoulders sagged with visible relief.
Gojo hopped onto Hakari's desk in one fluid motion, claiming the space like he owned it. His legs crossed at the ankles as he leaned forward, looking down at Rome despite the blindfold covering his eyes.
"Let's get down to business, Rome Hoshino." His voice shifted, the playfulness replaced by something sharper. "What do you want with your life?"
Rome shrugged, slouching deeper into his chair. "Stability? A 401k? Maybe a nice little house in the suburbs with a white picket fence."
Gojo waved a hand dismissively. "Boring. Lying. Next."
Great, a mind-reader. Just what I needed today.
Rome sighed dramatically. "Fine. I want money. Enough money to burn. I want women. I want to do whatever I want, whenever I want, without anyone telling me 'no.' I want to be the one holding the leash, not the one wearing it."
A smile crept across Gojo's face. "Hedonism and control. That sounds more like it. Very... Toji-esque of you." The smile dimmed a few watts. "But..."
Who the fuck is Toji?
Rome felt the air change. The playfulness evaporated like water on hot concrete, leaving something heavier behind.
"That's what you want for your future." Gojo's voice dropped an octave. "But what do you want for your past?"
A cold knot formed in Rome's stomach.
"Police report from twelve years ago," Gojo continued. "Home invasion. Robbery gone wrong. Parents deceased. Child left injured and traumatized."
"Shut up." The words escaped Rome's mouth as a whisper, dangerous and cold.
"We both know that didn't happen." Gojo continued like Rome hadn't spoken. "No forced entry. Nothing stolen. Just a massacre."
Rome stood up so fast his chair clattered to the floor behind him. His Devil's Eyes flared, turning from ruby to molten lava. The killing intent rolled off him in waves, filling the room with a pressure that made Kirara take a step back.
"What the fuck do you know, Satoru Gojo?"
"I know it was a Curse User. I know you saw it." The words landed like stones in still water. "And I know you've been looking for that scar ever since."
Rome's hand moved unconsciously to his forehead, fingers brushing the gauze hiding his own scar.
How could he possibly know?
For a moment, hope flared in Rome's chest. If Gojo knew that much, then maybe—
"I don't know who she is," Gojo said, reading Rome's thoughts again. "Not yet."
The hope died as quickly as it had flared. Rome's shoulders slumped.
"I can't promise you I'll find her for you." Gojo leaned forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. "And honestly? You wouldn't want me to. You want to do it yourself."
Rome's eyes snapped up to meet Gojo's blindfold. Well, he's got that right.
"If you join my school," Gojo continued, "I won't just give you money and freedom. I will give you the tools. I will sharpen that raw, messy talent of yours until you are the sharpest blade in the world. So when you finally find her..." His voice dropped to a purr. "You won't miss."
He smiled, bright and suddenly cheerful again. "And hey, once you're that strong? The money and women usually follow. It's a package deal."
Rome stared at Gojo. Part of him wanted to tell the man to fuck off on principle.
But another part recognized the truth in Gojo's words. He'd hit a ceiling at the Fight Club. To kill a monster, he needed to learn from the king of monsters.
"How long is the training?" Rome asked finally.
"Four years. Tokyo Jujutsu College." Gojo shrugged. "Standard curriculum... mostly."
Rome exhaled, letting the tension bleed from his shoulders. His fingers touched the wedding rings hanging around his neck, an unconscious gesture he made whenever he needed to center himself.
"Fine. Four years. I'm in."
Gojo clapped his hands together like a child who'd just been promised ice cream. "Yay! I'm so glad you agreed!"
"Yeah, well, don't make me regret it," Rome muttered.
"Oh, you misunderstand." Gojo's voice remained cheerful, but something in his tone made Rome's skin crawl. "I was going to kidnap you if you said no. I would have just annoyed you until you submitted. This saves us so much time!"
Rome looked at Hakari, who was watching the whole exchange with obvious amusement. "Is it too late to take the host club job?"
"No refunds on sold debts, Ro-Ro." Hakari grinned, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Pack your bags."
"When do we leave?" Rome asked.
"Tonight. Your first class is tomorrow morning."
"Tonight? I haven't even packed—"
"Already taken care of." Gojo's smile turned slightly smug. "Kirara was kind enough to get your stuff together while we chatted."
Rome shot Kirara a betrayed look. Kirara shrugged, not looking remotely apologetic.
"What the hell? You were that sure I'd say yes?"
"No," Gojo replied honestly. "I was that sure it didn't matter what you said. The outcome was always going to be the same."
Rome wanted to be angry, but there was something almost refreshing about Gojo's honesty. Most people tried to manipulate him with lies or fake concern. Gojo didn't bother with the pretense.
Hakari stood up, coming around the desk to clap Rome on the shoulder. "This is a good thing, kid. You've got potential. Gojo will help you reach it."
"And if I fail?" Rome asked.
"Then you'll die," Gojo answered cheerfully. "But dying with purpose is way better than living without one, right?"
"That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be." Gojo turned toward the door. "Come on, Red Devil. Time to see if you're as special as I think you are."
Rome hesitated, looking around the office. For all its luxury, this place had become the closest thing to a home he'd had in years. Hakari might be a gambling addict with questionable morals, but he'd given Rome a purpose. A place to belong.
"What about my fights?" Rome asked. "I still owe—"
"Your debt is paid," Gojo interrupted. "I bought it. All of it."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I want your full attention." Gojo's voice hardened slightly. "No distractions. No side hustles. Just you, me, and turning you into something that makes the curses wake up screaming."
Rome couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at those words. Something in Gojo's tone made him believe it was possible. That he could become that kind of monster.
"Also," Gojo added, "my pension plan is much better than Hakari's."
"He doesn't have a pension plan," Rome pointed out.
"Exactly." Gojo grinned. "Ready to go?"
Rome took a deep breath. He touched the rings on his necklace one more time, feeling the cool metal against his fingertips. Then he looked at Hakari and Kirara.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Hakari nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Go find your fever, kid. But don't be a stranger. The Red Devil will always have a spot in my ring."
Kirara stepped forward and, to Rome's surprise, gave him a brief hug. "Take care of yourself, Ro-Ro. Don't let Gojo get you killed."
"I make no promises," Gojo called from the doorway.
Rome rolled his eyes but followed Gojo toward the door. As he reached it, he paused and looked back one more time.
"I'll come visit. Maybe kick some ass for old times' sake."
"Good," Hakari said with a smile. "I'll have the board ready for your return match."
Rome nodded, then turned and followed Gojo out of the office, down the hallway, and into a future he couldn't begin to imagine.
Four years, he thought. Just four years to learn how to kill a curse user powerful enough to slaughter his parents. Piece of cake.
As they stepped out into the cool night air, Rome looked up at the stars and felt something he hadn't experienced in a long time: hope. Dangerous, sharp-edged hope that tasted like blood and vengeance.
"So," he said as they walked toward a sleek black car parked at the curb. "This school. Are there hot girls?"
Gojo laughed. "You know what? I think you're going to get along just fine with Itadori."
"Who's Itadori?"
"One of your new classmates."
Gojo opened the car door with a flourish. "Your chariot awaits, Mr. Hoshino."
Rome paused before getting in. "One last question."
"Shoot."
"Why me? There must be dozens of kids with potential out there. Why come personally to recruit me?"
Gojo was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its playfulness.
"Because you remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who went down a dark path because no one was there to show him the light."
"And you think you can save me?" Rome couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice.
Gojo shook his head. "No. I think you can save yourself. I'm just giving you the means to do it."
Rome considered this, then nodded slowly. "Fair enough."
He slid into the car, leaving behind the life he'd built and stepping toward one he couldn't predict. As Gojo closed the door and walked around to the driver's side, Rome looked out the window at the Gachinko Fight Club—a neon-lit beacon in the Tokyo night.
Four years, he thought again. Let's see what the Honored One has to teach me.