A few days later, in the courtyard of the Gojo clan.
Satoru and Kazuya were seated near a stone fountain, surrounded by flowers that swayed gently in the wind.
The sound of the water was constant, almost hypnotic. The environment exuded a serene tranquility, far too calm to suit the nature of those two.
"Onee-chan... you're going out on a mission soon, right? What exactly is it?" Kazuya asked, leaning back lazily.
Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, as if the weight of the world were merely a minor nuisance amid the tedium.
"Those damn fossils summoned me to protect the Star Plasma Vessel," she replied with disdain, openly mocking. "Did you know? This so-called vessel needs to merge with Master Tengen. Only then does it retain its self-awareness and continues to maintain the barriers that protect the Jujutsu society."
"Ah... I see." Kazuya tilted his head slightly. "But why didn't they summon me too?"
"Are you joking?!" Satoru laughed, as if the answer were obvious. "Those cowardly old men would never call you, especially after the massacre of the predecessors who tried to control you."
Kazuya raised an eyebrow, indifferent.
"I'm surprised you haven't done the same. You wouldn't want to be controlled by people weaker than yourself, would you?"
"It wouldn't make a difference." Satoru rested her chin on her hand, bored. "If I did that, others would simply take their place. Just like happened with you."
A slight smile appeared on Kazuya's lips.
"But look... there's no old man bothering me right now, is there?"
"Yes." She replied without hesitation. "But in your case, that has only made you a tyrant."
"And what's wrong with that?" Kazuya leaned slightly forward, intrigued. "In the end, they're just weak. Why do you care so much about the weak?"
Satoru stared at him for a moment, surprised. Then she let out a relaxed laugh.
"How strange~~!" she teased, a playful glint in her eyes. "You are the complete opposite of Suguru Geto. He always says that the duty of Jujutsu sorcerers, the strong, is to protect the weak."
"But you can't deny it, can you?" Kazuya continued, her voice calm, almost clinical. "Deep down, you never truly cared about them. What you do is a result of external pressure, not conviction."
Not satisfied, Kazuya added:
"Of course, I'm not saying you're evil... just that you're not good either. You are indifferent. This whole narrative of 'responsibility of the strongest' is nothing but a social construct. An ideal born from fear. Fear that a power like yours might one day turn against them."
For a brief moment, Satoru remained silent, absorbing those words.
"...Even if you're right, I can't simply abandon my duties as a Jujutsu sorceress."
"I never said to abandon them." Kazuya's tone softened. "I just don't want you to bind yourself to these nonsense imposed by the weaker ones. Because, let's be honest... with your power, even if you decided to throw everything to the wind, no one would stand a chance of stopping you."
He paused.
"What I mean is... I want you to make your own decisions. Without the burden of being 'the strongest' or just a Jujutsu sorceress. No matter what your choice is... I will always be by your side, supporting you, onee-chan."
Satoru raised an eyebrow and let out a short laugh.
"Urgh... how cliché!"
Despite the sarcastic tone, her expression softened. Behind the mask of absolute confidence, those words had hit home.
She then stood up. A provocative smile emerged on her lips, yet it was more genuine than any she'd shown since the beginning of their conversation.
"Anyway... I'm off. I have a babysitting mission for a kid who's carrying the fate of Japan in her hands. Don't miss me. I'll be back for you in no time. Goodbye~~!"
Bringing two fingers to her lips, Satoru blew a kiss in Kazuya's direction... and vanished, as if the space around her had folded.
After spending some time in the courtyard, contemplating the silent landscape again, Kazuya stood up. She brushed her garment free of the dust left by the bench.
Her gaze shifted to the maid beside her, who had remained silent until then, behaving as if her presence was nonexistent.
"I'm leaving. I want to take a walk."
"Yes, understood. I will make the preparations."
After changing into formal attire, a shocking pink shirt paired with cream pants, Kazuya descended to the entrance of the immense traditional Japanese mansion.
Outside, several luxury SUVs were already waiting. At the front stood a Rolls-Royce Cullinan, followed by other vehicles, Jeep Commanders. All armored. All transporting Grade 1 sorcerers, and even one Special Grade, designated for her protection.
"What an exaggeration..." she murmured quietly.
As she settled into the back seat of the Cullinan, the driver gave a nod. The convoy began to move, heading towards the chosen location for her "walk."
🔷🔷🔷
In the depths of the mountains, a convoy of luxury vehicles was halted before an isolated facility. The Cullinan remained stationed in front of the main entrance.
The driver, a Grade 1 sorcerer, quickly exited the vehicle, circumvented it, and opened the rear door with flawless precision, bowing in a respectful gesture.
Emerging from the car was a young boy of merely fourteen years. His unkempt black hair fell casually around him.
His heterochromatic eyes, marked by faint dark circles of fatigue, caught immediate attention. One glimmered a deep blue, clear as a sapphire in the daylight, reminiscent of the serene expanse of a clear sky. The other, in stark contrast, was as black as ebony, resembling an abyss.
At the entrance of the institution, a man in a suit bowed respectfully. Behind him, several others stood in alignment, clad in lab coats, observing silently.
"Welcome, Kazuya-sama," said the suited man, in a respectful tone.
"I don't know why you insist on formalities, Ayanokoji Atsuomi," Kazuya replied, flashing a gentle smile. "You can treat me more informally. I don't mind something so trivial."
"No, I insist; how could I treat you so rudely?"
Of course, he has to insist. Although this child in front of him is the age of his own son, he could easily obliterate everything he has painstakingly built.
Not to mention the cold gaze of the guards surrounding the young boy, watching him as if he were something inferior.
If he were to use informal language with this boy, he would undoubtedly suffer a horrific fate! That is what his instincts suggest.
The young boy, clearly amused, gestured toward the entrance.
"Then let's go in, Atsuomi-kun."
"Yes, sir!"
Upon entering the facility, it immediately became clear why it was referred to as the White Room. Almost everything inside was white. Walls, floors, ceilings — an artificial purity so extreme that it was almost blinding, conveying a sense of clinical emptiness and dehumanization.
Accompanied by Ayanokoji Atsuomi and his subordinates, Kazuya advanced through the hallways, with the Special Grade sorcerer following him silently.
They soon arrived at an observation area.
On the other side of a large glass pane, instructors observed the children below, their movements coldly analyzed, as if they were parts of a continuous experiment.
"It seems you have had no issues keeping all of this operational," Kazuya remarked, his voice calm. "Atsuomi-kun."
A few weeks prior, a prime ministerial candidate, Jinnosuke Naoe, a high-ranking politician and mentor to Atsuomi, had issued a direct order: the secret project was to be deactivated.
Until that moment, he had been the one maintaining the institution known as the White Room under the shadows, ensuring governmental protection for the project and keeping it off the radar of conventional authorities.
He was also the one who proposed to Atsuomi the secret project to create an institution for the "Talent Cultivation Program," under direct government oversight, which would become the White Room.
Ayanokoji Atsuomi bowed deeply, attempting to convey all the sincerity he could muster.
"All thanks to you, for placing us under your wings. I am profoundly grateful to you."
Kazuya had discovered the existence of this place quite early on. From the moment he realized that this world was integrated into the universe of Classroom of the Elite, even when he was merely three or four years old, he began observing the White Room from afar.
At six, he started visiting it whenever he liked.
Thus, when the opportunity arose, he did not hesitate. The idea of having numerous children raised to become geniuses, all under his wing, was something he was unwilling to let slip away.
It was simply too interesting.