It was supposed to be an ordinary and boring mission that Satoru Gojo and his best friend Suguru Geto were given on this October afternoon. But everything turns out completely differently...
Events begin, the effects of which even extend to the da...
The light of the autumn sun casts long shadows in a room covered with tatami mats. One of the large, barred windows, the likes of which only exist in old Japanese monasteries, is open and the slightly cooled air quietly creeps into the room. A few colorful leaves have laid down to rest under the window. The chamber is empty except for a dark chest of drawers with a selection of candles on it and a low desk. The rest of the interior is probably behind the sliding doors to save space. A roll of parchment lies on the small table. Two small sculptures ensure that the roll of paper does not immediately roll back up into its original state. An inkstone and a calligraphy bowl containing some liquefied ink complete the writing set. A hairpin lies above the objects, parallel to the edge of the table. It's the kind of thing women put in their hair for celebratory events. The sunlight glitters off the glass beads hanging on it. A young man sits in front of the small table. He is tall and wears the clothing of a monk. His hair falls long and black down his back. He has tied some of his hair into a small bun at the back of his neck. His skin looks pale under the influence of the autumn colors and his narrow eyes fixate on a point somewhere outside the window. Something melancholy lies on his face like a dark veil. He seems lost in thought. He unconsciously traces the shape of his lips with the end of his brush. Then, as if the thought had finally occurred to him that he had been looking for all this time, he paused in his movements and turned to the table with the stationery. He holds the sleeve of his long robe with one hand while he dips the brush into the ink with the other. He remains in the momento mori for a moment before the brush lowers itself to the parchment and he begins to write:
My name is Geto, Suguru and if anyone reads these lines, I have already died. I assume that you, the reader, know about the other world besides everyday reality. That you know what jujutsu is and that you are familiar with curses. In this case, my name should already tell you who I am. You should have heard stories about me by now. If you are an ordinary monkey, stop dirtying this parchment with your dirty fingers. Set it aside for someone to find who knows what to do with it. And if it is Gojo, Satoru himself who is reading these lines, consider it a greeting from the past. Because I would like to use this as my will to describe my view of things. To tell a story that might otherwise be forgotten forever. Because the people involved here don't deserve to be forgotten...
The young man pauses briefly. His gaze flees again out the window to a place in days gone by. He feels as if he can hear a gentle laugh in the wind, whose finger stroking the leaves of the trees.
...I don't expect understanding or absolution from anyone and I don't regret any of my actions. And yet I don't want to be remembered as the cold-hearted monster that society wants me to be. Because I am so much more than that. And although it may sound blasphemous, Geto Suguru is the result of everything that happened so many years ago. I always tried to do the right thing. To follow the rules of jujutsu. Everything for a society in which the weak are protected by the strong. But I have seen too much suffering. Too much injustice. I carried the burden of society on my back. And many would say that I lost my way when I turned my back on the Jujutsu Academy. When I started eradicating the weak from our society. Yes, I murdered. But isn't that the natural course of things? When you look around nature, doesn't the law of the stronger apply and the weak have to see where they stay? Don't you also cut out a cancerous tumor from a body in order to save the body and the person? I didn't do anything else. Nothing else is my goal. I plan to heal our society, this world, by wiping out the parasites that poison it. People who do not have jujutsu are the cause of curses and therefore the origin of all suffering. So tell me, gentle reader: are my intentions bad? Am I evil? If your goal is to save humanity and the world. Whether you want to see me as a monster or not is up to you. I have no influence on your opinions and feelings. But let me tell you: I only human too. I also had friends, laughed and...
He pauses again in his writing and this time looks at the hairpin on the table in front of him. He briefly puts the brush aside and gently runs his fingers over the gem before picking up his writing tool again:
...I loved. Til today… That's why I want to tell this story. A story that no more than three other people could tell, but I'm sure they would probably take it to their grave rather than say a word about the events that made me change my mind. Although I was not personally involved in some of the storylines that follow, I will still allow myself to describe them from the perspective of the relevant people. On the one hand because it simply makes the story more entertaining, on the other hand because I take the liberty of claiming that I know the people well enough to know how they would think, act and feel. And in hindsight, when you look back on events, it is always easier to understand someone else's perspective than when you are in the situation yourself.
So let it begin, the story of my life:
Autumn had already turned the sparse green of Tokyo's leaves colorful. There were still the occasional day when the sun won its battle against the rain, but these days were few and far between. However, the day I met Sayuri for the first time was such a day...
