Satoru stood at the far edge of the manor's garden, arms folded, his posture relaxed—but his sharp gaze never left the boy sitting in the grass.
Subaru sat cross-legged at the center of the clearing, cursed energy flickering off him in unsteady waves—like smoke twisting against a breeze. His shoulders were tense, fingers twitching slightly as he tried to rein it in. He was getting better… but still far from being a pro.
He's progressing fast. Faster than I thought. But speed doesn't mean strength. Not yet. Still, for someone who had no clue a few days ago... he's not half bad.
Footsteps approached from the side—light, deliberate. He didn't need to look to know who it was.
"Good morning, Satoru." Emilia's soft voice came from beside him, her long silver hair catching the morning light like threads of moonlight. "How's Subaru's training going?"
Gojo didn't answer right away. His attention lingered on Subaru a moment longer—watching the cursed energy sputter and flicker, wild but present.
Then he finally turned his head. "Morning, Emilia."
His tone was casual, but thoughtful. "He's improving. Actually stopped punching himself in the face with cursed feedback yesterday. That's a win in my book."
He gave a small, amused smirk. "Still moves like a limping puppy, though."
Emilia giggled, covering her mouth. "That's Subaru… But he's trying harder than I've ever seen. Not even Ram chasing him with a mop gets him this motivated."
Gojo chuckled lightly. "Yeah, he's got spirit. Stubborn as hell, emotional as it gets—but he's got something more important than talent."
His smile faded just a bit, hidden behind the reflection of his sunglasses.
"Resolve. And a ton of it!"
He finally turned his full attention to her.
"He's been holding back his whole life. Doesn't even know it. I'm just helping him find the doors he's too scared to open."
Emilia looked out toward Subaru again, her violet eyes soft with worry—but tinged with pride.
"I just… hope he doesn't hurt himself trying to go through them. He's already been through more than most people can handle."
Gojo tilted his head. "He will get hurt. That's part of the process. Growth doesn't happen in safety unfortunately."
His bluntness made her blink, but he wasn't finished.
"But he's not doing this for me. Not even for you—well, okay, maybe a little for you."
He smiled faintly.
"But mostly? I believe he's doing it because he's tired of being weak. And he's starting to believe he doesn't have to stay that way."
Emilia's expression softened. "Subaru…"
The garden was quiet for a moment. A soft breeze stirred the leaves. The cursed energy around Subaru sparked faintly—like a quiet thundercloud, just beginning to form.
Then-
"GOJO!! I THINK I PULLED A NERVE OR SOMETHING!!"
Subaru was flat on his back, one leg in the air, cursed smoke wafting lazily from his shoulder like burnt toast.
Gojo exhaled through his nose and raised a hand.
"…Do you want to get flicked again?!" he called out, voice sharp.
"Call me Gojo-Sensei, dammit!"
"Soooorry, Gojo-sensei!" Subaru cried out, hands clasped together like a desperate student begging for forgiveness. Then he blinked, suddenly noticing the silver-haired girl standing just a few paces away. His expression lit up like a spark.
"Ah—Emilia-tan! Basking us in your radiant presence—have you come to witness my greatness in action?"
Gojo didn't even glance at him. "She'll be waiting a while for that, Subaru."
Then—another voice chimed in. Light, high-pitched, and just a bit smug.
"Shady-shades is right, you know!"
Satoru's head turned sharply, his eyes locking onto the source- a small, floating feline spirit hovering just above the grass. Fur pristine, tail swaying idly, an air of mischief radiating from the creature.
Gojo's smile thinned.
A spirit. But not like the ones I know of in the slightest- It's clean. Refined. And strong. Damn strong. Hiding it well, too… Cute furball's got depth.
For the briefest second, their eyes met—Gojo's hidden behind mirrored lenses, and Puck's narrowed with feline curiosity. A moment passed in silent understanding.
Then, the cat waved a tiny paw. "Good morning, Lia!"
Emilia offered a warm smile. "Good morning to you too, Puck."
The spirit turned to Gojo. "You're Satoru, right? Emilia told me a bit—how you showed up with that Sword Saint guy and curb-stomped the Bowel Hunter. I was sleeping, so… thanks for that!"
Satoru raised a brow. "Sleeping?"
Puck stretched both tiny arms with a yawn. "Mhm. I can't do the whole 'stay awake all the time' thing. Gotta preserve energy, you know?"
Gojo hummed. "Makes sense..."
Then—without warning—Subaru burst into action with a cry of victory.
"Sneak attack!!"
He lunged forward and grabbed Puck mid-air, tickling his soft belly with a wiggling finger.
"Stop—! Stop it—!!" Puck cried, twisting and flailing in Subaru's grip.
Emilia giggled, while Satoru casually turned away, muttering under his breath.
"I take it back. He's not amusing. He's an idiot."
Subaru had only just released Puck—who was now floating in the air again, fur slightly fluffed and eyes narrowed in mock offense—when the spirit's gaze shifted back toward Gojo.
That earlier playful glint had faded.
"...You're hiding a lot I can tell," Puck said, calmly now. No teasing. No grin. His voice had taken on a more mature tone—older, wiser, with an edge of quiet caution. "Like... way more than anyone I've ever sensed in this world."
Gojo didn't reply immediately. His arms were crossed loosely, his head tilted to the side. But his posture hadn't changed—not defensive, not offended. Just... watching.
Puck floated a bit closer, ears flicking back. "When I first saw you at that table, I thought maybe you were just some cocky fighter with a sharp grin and a cool looking coat. But now..."
The spirit's tiny nose twitched.
"There's something off with your energy.. It's not just mana I feel within you." His voice dropped low, thoughtful.
"It feels almost like the Witch's Miasma—thick and oppressive—but fundamentally different. This energy… it's dense, suffocating, yet strangely clean. Pure instinct and raw emotion, twisted and honed into power… yet controlled."
He glanced toward Subaru. "He's similar in some ways, but still way more wild, y'know."
Gojo chuckled softly, breaking the weighty silence.
"You've got good senses for a fluffball."
Puck's eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating.
"And you… you carry the calm of someone who's never known fear."
The air thickened as silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken challenges.
Subaru swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. He stepped forward cautiously, hands raised in a tentative peace.
"O-Oi… you're not about to start fighting and wreck the garden, right?"
On the surface, his gaze was cool and indifferent, but inside, his mind raced.
How strong is this spirit, really? Could I beat him?
The thought was dangerous, yet intoxicating.
Puck's grin spread wide, eyes gleaming with mischief and approval.
"Alright! I like this guy—he's got a similar vibe to Subaru, just a hell of a lot less inept."
"H-Hey!" Subaru shot back, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance.
—————————————————
Satoru Gojo strolled down the vast corridor of the mansion, footsteps echoing against the polished marble like distant whispers. His face was unreadable—serene, detached—though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as if the silence itself amused him.
I wonder... how many beings in this world could rival that spirit, I can only name one with confidence- but let's be honest... I haven't exactly been here long enough to make a proper guess.
His gaze brushed past a large oil painting hanging on the wall—elegant, finely rendered—and continued forward without pause.
Until he stopped. Without warning, he turned his head again, eyes narrowing.
That painting... it's not just similar. It's identical.
He came to a halt, lowering his head slightly. The world sharpened behind the thin lenses of his sunglasses as he scanned the hallway, gaze settling on a nondescript wooden door.
"...Aha."
A grin formed—sharp, knowing—as he twisted the brass knob and threw the door open with casual flair.
"Satoru Gojo, entering dramatically!" he declared, stepping inside.
Rows of towering bookshelves greeted him. The air was thick with mana.
A library. Grand, ancient.
Tch. A library? I only walked in because I felt something weird. I've had enough books this week to fill a damn volume of my own.
He ran a finger along a nearby table's edge, examining the pristine surface with faint surprise.
"Clean, too-"
Before he could finish, a voice rang out—sharp, imperious, and distinctly unimpressed.
"Of course it is clean, human. Beatrice would never allow dust to disgrace her sacred library, in fact."
Gojo's head turned slowly toward the voice, the low flick-flick of turning pages falling into silence.
And there she sat—aloft on a floating stool like a porcelain doll conjured from a forgotten fairytale. Her golden ringlets framed a face of delicateness, and her elaborate dress—frilled, laced, and impossibly ornate—made her seem more like royalty than a librarian.
His jaw slackened slightly.
"…A loli?!"
Beatrice froze. Her brow twitched, an ominous tick beneath her ribboned hair. With practiced precision, she shut the book in her hands and placed it down as though laying a sword to rest.
"I find that term insufferably demeaning, I suppose!" she snapped, puffing her cheeks in regal outrage.
Gojo chuckled before sliding his sunglasses just low enough to reveal glinting blue eyes, aglow with irreverent charm.
"Didn't mean to offend, Princess~" he said with a mock bow.
"Tch... Beatrice finds you both more annoying and stranger than Subaru, I suppose," she huffed, narrowing her eyes in visible irritation.
With a flutter of her dress and a flick of her curls, she rose from her floating stool, legs straightening gracefully as she landed on the wooden floor without a sound. Her expression was unreadable as she approached, steps precise and regal.
Then, without warning, she extended her small hand—pressing her palm flat against Satoru's abdomen.
"…?"
Gojo arched a brow, blinking once, then glancing down at her hand with mild curiosity. He didn't move. But Beatrice did.
She froze.
Seconds passed in heavy silence.
Then she recoiled—stumbling one step back as if she'd touched a live wire, her eyes wide, mouth parted.
"Y-You… What… are you…?" Her voice quivered with a mixture of disbelief and alarm. "How is it… that you are completely unaffected?! That's… that's impossible, in fact!"
Did she just try to hit me with some kind of spell or something?
Gojo exhaled through his nose, amused and grateful for his instincts.
..Glad I turned Infinity on, could've been embarrassing as hell if I didn't.
A slow smirk tugged at his lips. He leaned forward ever so slightly, casually invading her space, and reached out to gently pat the top of her head.
The reaction was immediate—her eyes went wide, cheeks puffed, and fists clenched in sheer, indignant horror.
"Y-You dare!?" she sputtered.
Gojo chuckled. "Relax. It's just that... you never actually touched me, y'know?" he said, voice light but layered with implication.
Beatrice stared, her expression shifting from flustered to thoughtful. "An Authority, I suppose?" she murmured, voice lowering. "You do have the Witch's scent, after all... though it's not quite the same as Subaru's. It clings to you differently."
Gojo scratched the back of his head, expression turning contemplative.
"Yeah, that part? I don't really get but.. As for this ability..." he shrugged. "Let's just say it's sorta its own thing. Not an Authority, not magic. Just—me being me, the greatest."
Beatrice's eyes narrowed, gaze sharpening with curiosity now laced with unease.
"This world does not take kindly to beings who bend its rules, in fact… you will learn that soon enough in ways most unfortunate."
Gojo paused, studying her as she bristled. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement.
"You're not human… a spirit, then?" he mused aloud, voice low and steady.
Beatrice's eyes flickered—surprise, indignation, then a keen interest. She straightened her posture, twin drills swaying as though responding to an unseen breeze.
I've met spirits before, but never one so… human. Those eyes could almost rival mine! Almost.
His gaze remained fixed on her, searching for any telltale glimmer of ethereal power.
"There are spirits that wear human forms," she replied, voice cool as glass, "but few as convincing as myself. You, who bears such—" she halted, as if reluctant to name what she could sense on him, "—anomalies could understand those who are different, I suppose."
Gojo's smirk deepened. "Anomalies, huh? Guess we're both full of surprises eh?"
Beatrice's lips curved in the faintest of smiles—equal parts challenge and curiosity.
Satoru's eyes twitched. His head snapped to the side, senses sharpening like the edge of a blade.
Mmm… what's this? Another strong presence- outside the mansion...
The shift in his demeanor was subtle but unmistakable.
He clicked his tongue, glancing back at Beatrice with that same infuriating smirk.
"Well then... apologies, my adorable, squishy-faced spirit, but I've got places to be, mysteries to poke, and apparently a new power level to measure."
Beatrice barely had time to puff up in protest. "Squishy-?!"
But he was already gone.
In a blur of motion, Gojo pivoted on his heel and vanished from the room, the doors flinging open with a force that rustled every page in the library. His footsteps against wood faded like a fading beat in a war drum—quick, certain, impossible to catch.
Beatrice stared at the space he'd left behind, lips pursed, cheeks flushed.
"Tch… That man is infuriating, I suppose..."
But her eyes lingered on the door longer than she meant them to.
—————————————————
Satoru jogged swiftly through the mansion's winding halls, his footsteps a rhythmic beat against the lavish flooring.
No sign of Emilia. Rem, Ram- or Roswaal. P lace feels... too quiet.
He came to a sudden halt, the fine red carpet skidding slightly beneath his feet. With a sharp turn of his head, he leaned toward the tall window, eyes narrowing as he peered outside.
Down below, nestled at the grand front entrance of the estate, stood a crimson carriage—sleek, regal. Beside it, Subaru was pouring tea from a porcelain pot, posture relaxed. Opposite him, a tall older man with refined grey hair and a sharp black-and-white suit accepted the cup with effortless grace.
Gojo's eyes sharpened, a small smirk creeping across his lips.
Aha... that aura. Refined, heavy. Definitely the one I felt earlier. This guy's got weight. And he doesn't even need to flaunt it for me to notice at a distance.
Without waiting another second, he turned and continued down the corridor—faster now.
—————————————————
Meanwhile, outside in the garden...
The old man raised the teacup to his lips, eyes half-lidded in calm appreciation. He sipped once—deliberate, quiet—and let out a low breath.
"Mmm. Yes... It is lovely indeed. It feels as though I am indulging in a rare and delicate luxury."
Subaru grinned, setting the plate of cups down onto the rim of the nearby fountain like a makeshift serving tray.
"Yup—best tea you'll find in the entire mansion!" he said with pride, then lowered his voice with mock caution. "If Ram finds out I served it without asking, she'll probably murder me in my sleep."
Before Satoru could call out, a sudden rush of footsteps echoed across the stone path—swift, controlled, and deliberate. Like a heartbeat picking up pace.
The old man was the first to react. With a subtle shift of weight and a slight rotation of his heel, he turned toward the source. No panic. Just calm readiness honed through years of battle.
Flick.
"G-GAHH, WHY?!" Subaru yelped, staggering back slightly, clutching his forehead.
Satoru stood beside him now, index finger still outstretched from the flick—a grin playing on his lips as though he'd been there the whole time.
"You dropped your guard," Gojo said, almost sing-song, tilting his head. "That's why... iiiidiot."
Subaru groaned, rubbing his forehead. "At least say hi before acting like a schoolyard ghost!"
But Gojo's attention had already shifted.
His gaze met the old man's—and in that instant, the air seemed to still.
The two men stared each other down, neither flinching.
The old man's eyes narrowed slightly, calculating.
This boy... his posture is casual. Slouched, even. And yet—there is no opening. Not a single clear point to strike. As if... he's always ready. Without even trying, it's formless- yet incredibly dangerous... impressive.
Gojo's lips curled upward just slightly, the sunlight catching in his crystalline eyes.
Oh yeah… this guy's the real deal. Trying hard to play harmless... but these eyes don't miss. He's definitely skilled, powerful.
The old man offered no dramatic reaction. No surprise, no caution. Just a slow, deliberate nod.
A warrior's acknowledgment.
Gojo's smirk widened as he stepped forward, hands casually in his pockets.
"Introductions, then," he said with a playful cadence. "I am Satoru Gojo—" he leaned in slightly, voice dipped with mock grandeur— "Fifth candidate for the throne of Lugunica."
A beat passed.
Wilhelm's eyes widened—just slightly—but in a man so composed, even that flicker spoke volumes.
So it's true. The fifth. I'd heard whispers… but never expected to meet him here. Not at Lord Roswaal's estate of all places.
The old swordsman straightened his back, offering a small but respectful bow.
"I am Wilhelm van Astrea," he said, his voice firm and unwavering, like the swing of a master blade. "The Sword Devil—servant to Lady Crusch Karsten, and future Queen of Lugunica."
Gojo's smirk faltered slightly, but returned the next moment, but there was something in his eyes now—recognition. Respect.
He's not just loyal. He believes in her. Every word was conviction, not duty. I can respect that. Also.. Astrea.. huh? This guy Reinhard's grandfather or something?
Subaru, still rubbing the fading sting on his forehead, huffed loudly.
"Jeez… it's like you're trying to square up with every new person you see. I swear, Gojo-sensei…"
Gojo didn't miss a beat. He turned, lifting a finger with a familiar glint in his eye.
"You askin' for another flick, Subaru?"
"NO!" Subaru instinctively flinched, hands flying up like a hostage.
Wilhelm watched them silently—his stern expression softened by the barest ghost of a smile.
A dangerous man… but not without heart. This kingdom may yet be changed by hands like his, regardless if he doesn't become king.. change will be coming.
Then came a voice—smooth, sing-song, and androgynous.
"I'm baaack, Old Man Wilhelm~!"
Satoru, Wilhelm, and Subaru turned in unison toward the sound.
At the edge of the garden path stood a figure that practically shimmered with style- cat ears perked atop their head, a blue-and-white outfit just flamboyant enough to challenge local fashion laws.
Satoru blinked. Slowly.
We've got cat-girls here? Subaru's probably foaming at the mouth right about—
He glanced to the side.
Yep. Subaru's face was heating up like a kettle. But Satoru's own gaze sharpened—instinctively, almost on reflex. Something in the air shifted.
Wait a sec... that's no 'she'!! That aura.. That stride.. that bul-.. ahem. This world's messing with my expectations again damn it!!
"My bad for taking so looong~," the cat-boy purred. "Bet nyou were bored, riiight~?"
Wilhelm offered a small shake of the head, calm as ever. He gestured toward Satoru and Subaru.
"Not at all, Sir Felix. I had the company of these… rather amusing young men."
Subaru gave a nervous chuckle, half-flattered.
Felix practically glided over, stopping just short of their personal space—and then promptly invaded it. He leaned in and sniffed—first Subaru, then Satoru.
Subaru nearly melted. "Wh-what is happening—?"
Satoru, meanwhile, exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes narrowing. He tilted his head down ever so slightly.
No.. Absolutely not! I'm not breathing in whatever glittering pheromone cloud this guy emits. My condolences, Subaru, you've fallen for it, I shall not forget you- my greatest student.
"Nyow I see~!" Felix chirped. "You're the two boys Lady Emilia mentioned~!"
Subaru blinked, cheeks still lightly tinged red. "Emilia-tan mentioned us?"
Felix nodded, circling them with a dancer's grace.
"Yup~ Though I think at least nyou're completely clueless." He gave Subaru a playful boop on the nose. "But White-haired-chan over here? He's got the vibe of someone who knows exactly what he's doing."
Satoru didn't speak. Didn't flinch. His body was still, but not tense—just... alert.
This guy is very wrong and has no idea what he's talking about, but I'll talk any compliment I can get.
"Well.. see nyou both at the capital~!" Felix sang, spinning lightly as he stepped into the waiting carriage.
Wilhelm gave one final nod, the faintest curl of amusement in his expression, and followed.
Silence.
Gojo rubbed the back of his neck.
Shit. I totally forgot I was supposed to be recruiting for my royal selection camp. And, y'know... the entire throne thing. Whoops.