Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 22

Day 22 of Transmigration

Days flew by amidst missions, training, and the occasional noisy daily routine, until one day, Itadori Yuji mysteriously gathered the few people still at Jujutsu High, including Xue Yang, who was still sweaty from training.

“Everyone! Big news!” Itadori lowered his voice, his eyes sparkling, “Gojo-sensei’s birthday is coming up soon!”

Kugisaki Nobara immediately grew excited: “Really? Then we have to prepare something good!”

Fushiguro Megumi, though his expression remained unchanged, nodded: “We should definitely show our appreciation.”

Panda shook his round body: “What should we get? A dessert coupon? A new game console?”

Inumaki Toge: “Salmon roe!” (Good idea!)

Everyone started chattering and discussing, except for Xue Yang, who leaned against the wall, wiping sweat with a towel, looking indifferent and uninvolved.

“Xue Yang, what about you? What do you want to give?” Itadori enthusiastically leaned over and asked.

Xue Yang didn’t even lift his eyelids: “Nothing worth giving.”

Kugisaki was displeased: “Hey, you’re too cold! Gojo-sensei is usually so good to you!”

Xue Yang scoffed, neither refuting nor engaging in the conversation. What he was thinking about was something else entirely. Giving a gift? When had Xue Yang ever seriously given someone a gift? Especially to someone like Gojo Satoru, who lacked nothing. An ordinary gift would be utterly meaningless.

A few days later, Gojo Satoru’s birthday arrived. Following their plan, everyone held a lively (and chaotic) birthday party for him in the common room. Streamers flew everywhere, the cake was nearly flattened by Panda sitting on it, and the birthday song prepared by Itadori and Kugisaki was off-key to the heavens. Even Nanami Kento was dragged over, frowning as he endured the excessive noise.

Gojo Satoru, however, was thoroughly enjoying himself. Wearing a ridiculous birthday hat, his eyes behind his sunglasses were crinkled into slits from smiling. He made a wish over the lopsided cake that Panda had managed to rescue (“I hope I can eat sweeter desserts next year!”), and then received a variety of gifts from his students—a limited-edition pair of boxing gloves bought jointly by Itadori and Kugisaki (which Gojo Satoru complained about, saying, “Teacher won’t use these”), an ancient book on Jujutsu theory that looked very profound, given by Fushiguro Megumi (“Oh my, Megumi actually gave me a book?”), a giant handmade card made by Panda and Inumaki (with abstract artwork), and a set of high-quality tea ware from Maki (“Drink something other than juice once in a while.”).

Xue Yang watched coolly from the sidelines. It wasn’t until the party was nearing its end, and everyone was exhausted and starting to clean up the mess, that he walked over to Gojo Satoru, who was contentedly eating his second slice of cake.

“Hey, Gojo Satoru.”

“Hmm?” Gojo Satoru mumbled, his mouth full of cake.

“Come with me for a moment.” Xue Yang said, and without waiting for Gojo Satoru’s response, he turned and walked out.

Gojo Satoru raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised, but he put down his cake and followed. The others in the common room exchanged confused glances.

Xue Yang led Gojo Satoru in silence to the quiet forest behind Jujutsu High, where moonlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled light spots.

“What is it? So mysterious.” Gojo Satoru watched him, amused, his hands in his pockets.

Xue Yang stopped, turned around, and the moonlight illuminated his expressionless face, though his amber eyes were unusually clear. He took a deep breath, seemingly having made some kind of decision.

“Where did you put my Calamity?” he asked.

Gojo Satoru was momentarily stunned, not expecting Xue Yang to suddenly ask this. “What? Finally remembered you wanted it? Don’t worry, Teacher has kept it very safe for you, in an absolutely secure location.”

“Take me to see it.” Xue Yang’s tone brooked no argument.

Gojo Satoru watched him for a few seconds, seemingly trying to read something from his face, but ultimately shrugged: “Alright, alright, follow me.”

He led Xue Yang to a hidden underground warehouse at Jujutsu High, where dangerous or special Cursed Objects were stored. Gojo Satoru opened layer upon layer of seals. On a specialized weapon rack, Xue Yang saw his Personal Sword, Calamity, which he hadn’t seen in a long time. The blade still shone with an ominous cold light, but it was wrapped in layers of purification talismans, suppressing the malevolent aura upon it.

Xue Yang walked up, his fingers lightly brushing the cold blade, his gaze complex. This sword had accompanied him through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, witnessed his darkest years, and drunk the blood of countless enemies. It was one of the few tangible marks left from his past world that held real meaning.

He stared in silence for a long time. So long that Gojo Satoru thought he had changed his mind and wanted to take it back. But then, Xue Yang suddenly reached out, undid the sealing talismans, and picked up Calamity.

He turned, holding Calamity with both hands, and presented it to Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru was completely taken aback. His sunglasses slid down his nose, and his pale blue eyes were filled with astonishment: “…What is this?”

“It’s for you.” Xue Yang’s voice was calm, yet carried an unprecedented solemnity. “A birthday gift.”

Gojo Satoru looked at the ominous sword presented before him, then at Xue Yang’s eyes, which appeared exceptionally clear and resolute in the moonlight. For a moment, he was speechless. He knew too well what this sword meant to Xue Yang; it wasn’t just a weapon, but a symbol of Xue Yang’s past world, one of the things he relied on to desperately survive.

And now, Xue Yang was giving this “past” to him.

“I…” Gojo Satoru opened his mouth, feeling a rare lack of words. “Why?”

Xue Yang shifted his gaze, looking toward the shadows of the nearby trees, his tone reverting slightly to his usual awkwardness: “No reason why. Right now… I don’t need it.” He paused, his voice quieter, “I don’t need it anymore.”

With Gojo Satoru here, and with this noisy bunch at Jujutsu High, he no longer seemed to need to constantly grip his sword, wary of malice from all directions, resorting to any means necessary just to survive. He now had a place to live, food to eat, and people (forcibly) looking after him. This stable, even somewhat mundane life, had rendered his blood-drinking, malevolent sword useless.

Giving it to Gojo Satoru felt like a farewell, a goodbye to the Xue Yang who could only struggle for survival in darkness and bloodshed; and also like a handover, placing his most important “past” into the hands of the person who had led him out of the darkness and given him his “present.”

Gojo Satoru looked at Xue Yang’s slightly averted profile. The tension in his jawline revealed that he was not as calm as he appeared. A strange, soft emotion unexpectedly struck Gojo Satoru’s heart. He had seen Xue Yang’s vicious side, his cunning side, his impatient side, and even his occasionally relaxed side, but he had never seen such a… candid and vulnerable aspect of him.

This little brat, covered in thorns, was using his clumsy way to express the most genuine gratitude and trust.

Gojo Satoru reached out, not immediately taking the sword, but gently ruffling Xue Yang’s hair, his movement more tender than any time before. Then, he accepted the heavy weight of Calamity.

The sword was cold in his hand, carrying the warmth from Xue Yang’s fingertips and a trace of residual malevolence. Gojo Satoru looked at the sword in his hands, then back at Xue Yang. A faint but genuine warmth spread in the depths of his pale blue eyes.

“Good.” He dropped his usual playful demeanor, his tone gentle and serious, “I accept it. Thank you for the gift, Xue Yang.”

Xue Yang watched Gojo Satoru take Calamity. Something that had been tightly wound inside him seemed to quietly loosen. He gave an uncomfortable “Mn,” and turned to leave: “I’m going. Time to sleep.”

Gojo Satoru watched his almost frantic retreat but didn’t chase after him to tease him as he usually would. He looked down at Calamity in his hands, his fingertips tracing the cold spine of the sword, and the corner of his mouth slowly curled into a gentle smile.

This kid… honestly.

The moonlight flowed like water, silently streaming through the quiet forest, and also flowing into a heart that had quietly softened. This birthday gift was probably the most special, and the heaviest, he had ever received. And wrapped within that heaviness was a careful, warm heart being offered.