(THO) CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Brian lay still beneath the fluffy sheet, the shallow rise and fall of his chest marking each faint breath. To Taylor and Aisha, it might have been a reassurance that he was still alive. But to Gojo, it was a reminder of how close the line between life and death really was.

He leaned against the wall, blindfold pushed up on his forehead, one hand absently running through his hair. He didn’t look like he was thinking hard—he never did—but behind the lazy grin and slouched posture, his thoughts were moving faster than most could.

What he was planning shouldn’t have been possible.

That was the first truth. Cursed energy wasn’t meant for non-sorcerers, and no amount of talent or stubbornness could change that. The world decided who carried it the same way it decided eye color or blood type, and Gojo, more than anyone, had seen the cost of trying to bend that law too far.

Still… rules bent, and sometimes they broke. He’d made a career out of facing those responsible for such. 

Brian was different. It wasn't in the way Yuji or Megumi had been, but in contrast to the average cape of this world: seemingly ‘normal’ when compared with everyone else, yet this lack of volatility could easily be seen as cowardice. Or rather, an inability to be vulnerable. His shadows weren’t just a power, but a defence mechanism carved into reality itself. Darkness stretching out to hide himself and the people he was close to from the outside world. 

Gojo could work with that.

But raw potential wasn’t enough. At least, not for what was coming.

He thought of Scion, of golden light that could erase nations in an instant. He thought of Endbringers reducing cities to rubble, the kind of monsters that made even sorcerers feel small. He thought of Cauldron, quietly preparing the world for something only they understood.

And then he thought of his students: Taylor, with her self-worth issues and compartmentalization habits; Amy, breaking under the strain of her mental issues; Missy, a child forced to stand taller than her years would allow; and Brian, a leader who couldn't even protect his own. 

They were too young, and for all their powers, too fragile. Human. 

The old Gojo would’ve shrugged and tossed them in the deep end. Sink or swim. That was how he’d done it, after all. Except now, with hindsight, he could admit the truth: his way had been luck. His strength wasn’t proof that his path worked. It was proof that he’d been born into a rigged game, a result of genetics and absurd circumstances. And trying to force others to play by those rules, to ‘just figure it out’, hadn’t turned out well for everybody. Even him, in the end.

No, this time would be different.

This time, he would stack the deck in their favor.

Brian’s shadows were better than Brian himself realized. They let him obscure people, and as a result, protect them. But they weren’t enough for what was coming. If the world ended tomorrow, Brian would be another casualty in a long line of wasted potential. Unless Gojo gave him something more.

He had cursed energy to spare, and with his perfect control, it was enough that the excess alone could drown others. So why not share it?

It wouldn't be a gift because that wouldn’t work, or a permanent transfer—that would be impossible—but as a bargain.

A binding vow.

Gojo would shoulder the backlash, would take the pain of doing the impossible, and heal himself a thousand times over with reversed cursed technique. Brian, on the other hand, would get the benefit, amplifying his power with an energy non-sorcerers were never meant to wield.

The risk? Everything.

Binding vows weren’t toys. They demanded sacrifice, and even if accidentally, the wrong condition or loophole could end up with both of them paying more than he bargained for. Worse, Brian might not be able to handle the sheer metaphysical weight of cursed energy even if it was filtered through the vow. His mind could fracture, and his body could collapse.

Gojo angled his head to the side, smiling faintly at the thought.

“Guess we’ll see, huh?”

Because if it worked…?

For better or for worse, Brian would change. Gojo didn't know how, and wasn’t arrogant enough to believe he could predict what mixing cursed energy into a parahuman ability would really do. Maybe it would amplify his powers. Maybe it would twist them into something new. Maybe it would twist him.

But letting Brian—letting the world—remain as they were would only guarantee one thing: the inevitable death of billions across entire worlds. 

So Gojo would gamble. 

He pushed off the wall and crossed to the bed, looking down at Brian’s still form. His smile dimmed into something far more sober than most in his world would believe him capable of.

And if it didn’t work? If Brian broke under the strain, regardless of the vow, or if it demanded far more than either of them could pay?

Gojo shrugged to himself. Then it would be on him to figure something out. It would be his responsibility. And lucky for this world, brain surgery was something Gojo was very good at.