Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 19

Day Nineteen of Transmigration

As the season shifted into winter, the sky over Tokyo turned gray, and the air carried a damp chill that seeped into the bones. The trees on the Jujutsu High campus had long since shed their leaves, leaving only bare branches pointing toward the sky, giving the place a desolate look.

Xue Yang had just finished his morning special training—his current regimen involved simultaneously and precisely controlling three Grade 2 Cursed Spirits of different characteristics for coordinated attacks, which was a massive drain on his spiritual energy. He was rubbing his throbbing temples as he walked toward the dorms when tiny, almost invisible white specks began to drift down from the sky.

Initially, he paid them no mind, until the white specks gradually became clearer, transforming into soft, hexagonal snowflakes that fluttered down, covering the withered grass, the bare branches, and the eaves of the ancient school buildings.

It was snowing.

Xue Yang stopped and looked up. The icy snowflakes landed on his face and eyelashes, melting instantly, bringing a faint sting and coolness. His amber pupils reflected the white flurry dancing across the sky, leaving him slightly stunned. It snowed in Yi Manor too, but the snow there was always accompanied by a stronger stench of corpses and despair, cold and dead. The snow before him, however, was clean, quiet, and even carried a hint of… gentleness?

“Yo, it’s snowing!”

A familiar voice rang out behind him, carrying a cheerful tone. Xue Yang didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Gojo Satoru walked up to him in a few strides, looking up at the sky just like him. The corners of his mouth, visible beneath his sunglasses, were turned up high. “The first snow of the year, right on time.”

Xue Yang didn’t speak, just watched quietly.

“Come on,” Gojo Satoru suddenly grabbed his wrist, “I’m taking you to a great spot for viewing the snow.”

Xue Yang instinctively wanted to pull away, but seeing Gojo Satoru’s excited expression, and the snowflakes that had landed on the other man’s white eyelashes and hair, almost blending into him, he didn’t move, as if possessed. He allowed Gojo Satoru to pull him through the courtyard, which was covered in a thin layer of white, toward a viewing pavilion on the back hill of Jujutsu High.

The location was elevated, offering a wide, open view that overlooked most of the Tokyo metropolitan area, which was now gently covered by the first snow. The usually bustling city looked exceptionally quiet beneath the curtain of snow, the skyscrapers appearing as if draped in a layer of white gauze.

A thin layer of snow had already accumulated inside the pavilion. Gojo Satoru casually brushed the snow off the stone bench with his sleeve, pulled Xue Yang down to sit, and then, as if performing a magic trick, pulled two steaming hot canned coffees from his seemingly ordinary pocket, handing one to Xue Yang.

“Try this, it’s a new flavor, caramel macchiato, super sweet!”

Xue Yang took the can; it was warm to the touch. He opened the tab and took a sip. The rich sweetness mixed with the slight bitterness of the coffee was indeed very sweet, almost cloyingly so, but in the cold snowy weather, it was surprisingly comforting.

The two sat side by side in the pavilion, watching the snowflakes fall silently outside. The world was so quiet that only the sound of the wind and their faint breathing remained. The steam from the hot coffee rose, blurring their vision.

“When I was little,” Gojo Satoru suddenly spoke, his voice lower than usual, carrying the distant quality of a memory, “I loved snow days the most.”

Xue Yang turned his head to look at him, surprised that he would bring this up.

“The Gojo Clan place was suffocatingly full of rules, and winter was cold and boring,” Gojo Satoru took a sip of coffee, gazing at the snowy landscape in the distance. “Only when it snowed did the whole world seem to quiet down. All those annoying rules and watchful eyes felt like they were buried by the snow. I would secretly run out into the courtyard, build snowmen, or just lie in the snow, watching the flakes fall one by one, feeling like I was the only person left between heaven and earth.”

He paused, then gave a self-mocking laugh. “Though, thinking about it now, maybe that was just another form of ‘loneliness.’ After all, being ‘The Strongest’ means you’re different from everyone else, even as a kid.”

Xue Yang listened quietly, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the warm coffee can. He hadn’t expected this man, who always seemed so flamboyant, reckless, and carefree, to have such childhood feelings.

“What about you?” Gojo Satoru turned his head, his gaze behind the sunglasses fixed on Xue Yang’s face. “What did you do on snow days when you were little?”

Xue Yang’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly. He lowered his eyelashes, looking at the snow piling up on the stone steps outside the pavilion, remaining silent for a long time.

Gojo Satoru didn’t rush him, waiting patiently, occasionally sipping his coffee.

“…Nothing worth mentioning,” Xue Yang’s voice was dry, carrying his usual defensive coldness.

“Come on, tell me,” Gojo Satoru gently nudged him with his shoulder, his tone light but carrying an undeniable persistence. “I shared a secret, so as an exchange, you share yours?”

Xue Yang pursed his lips. Childhood memories for him were a blur of blood, bone-chilling cold, and endless hunger and bullying. Snow days? They meant it was harder to find food, and the piercing cold would intensify when he curled up in a ruined temple or a street corner.

He remained silent for so long that Gojo Satoru thought he wouldn’t speak, before he finally spoke in an extremely flat tone, as if recounting someone else’s story:

“Snow… was very cold. There was often nothing to eat. Once, the snow was heavy, and I hadn’t found food for three days. I was close to freezing to death. Then I saw a child eating a pastry by the roadside, so I went to snatch it.”

His tone was devoid of any emotion, but Gojo Satoru could vividly imagine the scene—a small, filthy child, desperate to survive in the heavy snow, snatching food from another’s hand like a cornered beast.

“And then?” Gojo Satoru’s voice was very soft.

“Then?” Xue Yang sneered, a hint of self-mockery and cruelty in the sound. “I was beaten half to death. I didn’t get the pastry, and I was thrown into a snowdrift. But I didn’t die.” He paused, a dark glint flashing in his eyes. “Later, I found the person who beat me… and made sure he could never use his hands to hit anyone again.”

He spoke lightly, but Gojo Satoru understood the bloodshed and ruthlessness implied. That wasn’t a child’s prank; it was the survival code of someone who had crawled out of hell, retaliating with even greater cruelty.

Silence fell in the pavilion again, broken only by the sound of falling snow.

Gojo Satoru suddenly reached out, not to ruffle his hair, but to gently pat Xue Yang’s back. The movement was a little clumsy, but it carried an indescribable sense of comfort.

“It’s all over,” he said, his voice not loud, but unusually firm. “Here, with me, you won’t go hungry or cold again, and you won’t have to… snatch things to eat like that.”

Xue Yang abruptly turned his head to look at Gojo Satoru. He searched the other man’s face for a trace of pity, shock, or disgust, but found none. Gojo Satoru’s expression was calm. He couldn’t clearly see the eyes behind the sunglasses, but the certainty and protectiveness in his tone were unmistakable.

An extremely unfamiliar emotion surged in Xue Yang’s heart—sour, aching, tightening his throat. He quickly turned back and took a large gulp of coffee. The cloyingly sweet liquid slid down his throat, but couldn’t suppress the churning emotions.

“Who cares,” he mumbled under his breath, his voice muffled.

Gojo Satoru heard it, and chuckled softly. He knew that this block of ice that was Xue Yang had just been cracked open by a tiny fissure.

“Yeah, you don’t care,” Gojo Satoru readily agreed, his tone becoming cheerful again. “It’s Jujutsu High that cares about having you, this human Cursed Spirit manipulator, alright? So, in order not to waste resources, you have to eat well, sleep well, and live well.”

Xue Yang snorted, offering no further rebuttal.

The snow continued to fall, gradually blurring the outlines of the distant city. The two people in the pavilion—one in white clothes and white hair, almost blending into the snowy scenery, the other in black clothes and black hair, like an ink spot on the snow—sat quietly, sharing hot coffee and a dark, cold past that was rarely shown to others.

“Hey, Gojo Satoru.” Xue Yang suddenly spoke again.

“Hmm?”

“Next time…” Xue Yang’s voice was very soft, almost swallowed by the wind and snow. “When it snows heavily, don’t just drink coffee.”

Gojo Satoru paused, then immediately understood, his smile widening across his face. “Then what should we eat? Hot pot? Barbecue? Or… a dessert buffet?”

Xue Yang thought for a moment, then said seriously, “All of it.”

Gojo Satoru burst into laughter, his voice echoing far in the silent, snowy landscape. “Fine! Whatever you want! We’ll eat that place out of house and home!”

He looked at Xue Yang’s profile, dusted with snowflakes. Although the young man still wore little expression, he could feel that the sharp edge of aloofness that always surrounded Xue Yang seemed to have softened considerably at this moment.

Perhaps the first snow truly could cover and cleanse some things. For example, the coldness of memory; for example, the vigilance in one’s heart.

Gojo Satoru thought that bringing him to see the snow was an excellent idea. He pulled out his phone, quietly aimed it at Xue Yang, who was lost in thought watching the snowscape, and pressed the shutter again. He decided not to send this photo to anyone, keeping it just for himself.