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(THO) CHAPTER TWENTY
🕑 Added 2025-05-29 11:32:02 +0000 UTCThe room was buried deep beneath the Brockton Bay PRT Headquarters, below the parking levels, past reinforced stairwells, and through two bi
The room was buried deep beneath the Brockton Bay PRT Headquarters, below the parking levels, past reinforced stairwells, and through two biometric locks and a pressure-sealed door. There were no cameras, no microphones, no data port on the wall, and no power lines in or out of the room beyond a single, shielded bulb casting a harsh, clinical glow.
There were just four gray walls, a table, and two chairs on opposite ends.
Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown stood at the far end, arms crossed, and posture perfectly still. Her suit was immaculate and tailored, yet understated, and intentionally unmemorable. But her presence was anything but.
She didn’t radiate authority. She demanded it, with the kind of pressure that made people stand straighter without knowing why. And only her eye betrayed the tension she felt as she watched the door.
It opened.
Gojo Satoru sauntered in casually like a man who didn’t fear anything, like he’d wandered into a hotel room instead of the most secure dead zone in the PRT’s eastern network.
Hands in his coat pockets, blindfold in place, white hair tousled by a breeze that hadn’t followed him underground. There was a smile on his face. Barely. Like the hint of a joke he wasn’t sure anyone else would get.
Whether it was a facade or not remained to be seen.
“Basement meeting in an empty room,” he said, his voice carrying a lilt of amusement. “If I were a paranoid man, I’d say this looks like an ambush.”
Rebecca didn’t smile. “You’re not paranoid.”
“No,” Gojo agreed easily. “I’m worse. I'm curious.”
He dropped into the chair across from her without waiting for permission. Legs crossed. Elbows resting loosely on the chair’s arms. Completely at ease.
Rebecca followed, a beat later, but her posture remained ramrod straight.
“I’m Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown,” she said.
“I know,” Gojo replied. “But you are more than that, aren't you?”
Gojo tilted his head, a lazy grin playing at the corner of his lips.
“I can see the parasite superimposed over you”—he made a vague gesture at her body—“and unlike most others, yours is vaguely humanoid. Keeps shifting ages. In a way, it makes it seem… stuck in time.”
Rebecca didn’t react. At least, not visibly.
“And you,” she said calmly, “are the most dangerous anomaly we’ve encountered since Scion first appeared over the Atlantic ocean.”
Gojo gave a low whistle. “Now that’s a compliment.”
“But I didn’t bring you here to trade titles.”
“No,” he said, leaning back slightly. “You want confirmation.”
He wasn’t just guessing. He knew exactly what this was, and he was enjoying it.
It was a risk, she knew that. Every instinct she had as Chief Director screamed against it, to steer the conversation away instead, deny everything, eject him from the room, and reinforce protocol. Or more coldly, kill him and ensure his knowledge died with him.
She had kept the secret of the passengers locked down for decades, through Endbringer battles, parahuman scandals, internal leaks, and even near-disasters. The lie, if it could be called that at this point, was institutional. It was the scaffolding that held up the entire PRT. PBut Gojo Satoru wasn’t a parahuman, and wasn't even a standard human by the usual metrics. He was something else. And as such, the usual metrics didn’t apply to him.
If there was a chance, just a sliver of one, that Gojo could be more than a threat… then she had to see what the truth would do.
Because she didn’t even like lying. It had just become the only language power understood.
But now, she chose to speak differently. To see if he would answer in kind.
“I want to know how you know.”
Gojo shrugged. “I saw it.”
“Explain.”
“I see the world differently. Always have.” He tapped two fingers against his blindfold. “My eyes allow immense perception and unrivaled visual prowess far beyond that of any other sorcerer. Even here, in a world that lacks cursed energy, I can still see everything.”
Rebecca didn’t speak for a moment.
And Gojo, sensing the weight of her silence, simply added:
“You call them passengers, but if it was up to me, they would be known as parasites. But that’s just me being rude.”
Her fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the table.
“And you have no problem sharing this information with strangers?”
“Should I?” Gojo asked. His tone wasn’t glib, just curious. Genuinely, infuriatingly curious.
“The truth isn’t hard to find if you look in the right places,” he continued. “Most people don’t. Not because they’re incapable, but because they’ve been conditioned not to. But even then…” He tilted his head slightly. “They know. Not consciously, but somewhere deep down, they can feel it. That they’re not alone in their own head. That their powers aren’t really theirs.”
He paused to let the words settle. Then added, casually: “I’m just saying it out loud.”
Rebecca exhaled slowly through her nose. “You don’t think that kind of knowledge is dangerous?”
“To who?” Gojo‘s smile didn't waver. “The ones already tearing themselves apart with power they don’t understand? The ones hoarding secrets under the illusion of control? Or is it dangerous to the scaffolding built out of silence and denial?”
“It is dangerous to the world,” she said firmly. “If people start believing their powers are puppeteering them, even to some extent—”
“They might start asking who’s holding the strings, and why?” Gojo finished. His voice had lost its playful edge.
Silence fell between them again. It wasn't strained, but it definitely wasn't comfortable. Then, lightly, almost a whisper, he added:
“Maybe they should.”
Rebecca studied him carefully, and what she saw was a man who wasn’t bluffing, wasn’t grandstanding, and who meant every word.
“You’re not from this world. You don’t care if you break it.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t care about your status quo or the balance of power in this world.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table now. His gaze was unseen but heavy. “But I care about people. About the ones who got dragged into this mess without a choice. The kids you shove into costumes and tell to smile for cameras. The ones who suffer and scream, and you feed them the lie that they’re special.”
Rebecca’s jaw tensed. “And you think exposing all this helps them?”
“I think understanding power is the only way to stop it from owning you.” Gojo’s tone was cool.
Rebecca sat back slowly—she wasn't even aware when she had risen—quietly shaken in a way she didn’t show. She still kept her expression composed, even as her mind moved quickly: already weighing responses, measuring risks, and cataloging contingencies.
After a moment, she spoke. “I know about them too.”
That made Gojo pause, but he didn’t smile this time.
He just said, “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I can’t see them, not like you can. But I’ve known the truth longer than almost anyone. Long before the term ‘parahuman’ even became used to describe us.”
Gojo stilled completely before leaning forward, the air between them tensing further.
“So,” he said quietly, “you’re one of the ones who hid it.”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. She owned up to it immediately.
Why wouldn’t she? In her eyes, it had been necessary. The lies, the omissions, the buried truths—all she had done, and would do, was to save lives.
“Why?” Gojo asked.
Rebecca’s posture didn’t shift, but her voice dropped a degree.
“Because people would panic. Society barely tolerates capes as it is, and only because of our influence.” She took a breath. “If the public knew the truth—that powers are the result of parasitic extradimensional and immensely powerful entities playing evolution with human lives—every ounce of trust we’ve built would collapse. You wouldn’t have reform. You’d won't just have capes dying in alleys, but families hunted, schools razed, and entire communities razed in the name of ‘cleansing.’”
Gojo stood.
“You sound like the higher-ups back home.” There was something almost wistful in the smile he wore now. “You know what I did with them?”
Rebecca met his unseen gaze without flinching.
“I built a new generation to replace them.”
A snarl threatened to leave her lips, but she was able to swallow it. Barely. The muscle in her jaw twitched once, a visible crack in the polished restraint she wore like armor.
“Go ahead, judge me.” Her hands stayed folded on the table, a picture of composure once more, but there was steel beneath his words. “But understand this: I don’t enjoy lying. I am not proud of my actions, but I’ll keep doing it. I’ll carry that responsibility because someone has to. Because if it buys even a few more years of stability, if it means humanity gets to survive the end of the world, then I’ll do anything.”
Gojo turned away, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt. “I think I'm done here.”
Rebecca stood, neither triumphant nor ashamed. A long moment passed between them.
Then, she gestured to the door. “You’ll be escorted out.”
Gojo moved toward it, but then stopped. And before Rebecca could question him, a door appeared in the room.
Standing beside the table now was a woman in a tailored black suit, white dress shirt, and tie, wavy black hair falling neatly around a a carefully neutral face.
Contessa had arrived.
Comments
Disorder
Unlike with this world, Gojo and his people couldn't reveal the truth at all because doing so would literally lead to an age of curses. Here, it can be revealed, but like Rebecca said, their would be problems. The flaw here is that Cauldron has kept the truth completely to themselves, and should Gojo realize this, he'd tell them that their setting themselves up for failure. That if no one in the world knows, then know one will be prepared for the day Scion snaps. The reason why his people managed to beat Sukuna was because they knew what they were up against, though he did have a few tricks up his four sleeves. As shown in Gold Morning, no one knew what to expect, so they got obliterated, with countless Earth's destroyed as a result. The first thing Gojo will suggest is a change in management because Cauldrons current members are too much like those old fossils from his world, all high up and believing they alone know what's best for society. As we saw after the Shibuya incident, those damn bastards nearly caused the end of Japan because they refused to do the right thing.
OnAHiatus
The fated meeting. And yeah, probably on Sundays until I can fit it during the weekdays
MeowMen
Contessa and Gojo? It's Boogie Woogie Time! Do we get anymore Professor Uzumaki btw?
OnAHiatus
Well, for one, Gojo won’t be smiling like he did this chapter
trollord3000
Ah snap!! Wonder what he'll see when he looks at Contessa. Great chapter. Looking forward to the next one.
