The dust hadn't fully settled.
Fragments of the street still drifted down from the last impact, catching faint light as they fell.
No one moved.
Because for once—
there wasn't an immediate next attack.
Takeru stood in the center.
Blood drying across the scar between his eyes.
Hand still faintly trembling—not from weakness, but from output.
Then—
he spoke.
"…Hey."
A pause.
"…'Narrator.'"
Everyone looked at him.
Hakari blinked.
"…You talking to… the sky now?"
Ryu grinned.
"…If it answers, I'm leaving."
Uro didn't laugh.
She was watching too closely.
Takeru continued anyway.
"…What's my nickname?"
Silence.
"…I mean…"
He gestured lightly.
"…There's Mechamaru—'The One Who Denies Fate.'"
"…Sukuna—'King of Curses.' 'The Fallen.' 'The Highest Grade.'"
"…Hajime Kashimo—'God of Lightning.'"
"…Hiromi Higuruma—'The Law.'"
"…Satoru Gojo—'The Strongest Sorcerer.' 'The Honored One.'"
"…Yuji Itadori—'Sukuna's Vessel.' 'The Tiger of West Junior High.' 'The Black Flash Wielder.' 'The Chosen One of the Sparks of Black.'"
Yuji scratched his head slightly.
"…That's a lot…"
Takeru looked down at his hand again.
"…What would mine be?"
A small pause.
"…'The one blessed by Gold?'"
He tilted his head slightly.
"…What would it be?"
Silence followed.
But this time—
it wasn't empty.
It responded.
A presence.
Not seen.
Not heard—
understood.
The same voice that had spoken before.
Calm.
Detached.
Absolute.
It didn't rush.
Then—
"Takeru Gojo."
The air stilled.
"The one who stands at the intersection of borrowed power and original creation."
A pause.
"The wielder of convergence."
Another.
"The anomaly who turns imitation into evolution."
The pressure subtly increased.
"The one who does not inherit… but redefines."
Then—
"Title designation…"
Everyone felt it.
Even Kashimo's grin faded slightly.
"…'The Catalyst of Gold.'"
Silence.
Yuji blinked.
"…That's kinda… cool…"
Hakari laughed.
"…Yeah, that fits."
Ryu smirked.
"…Not bad at all."
Uro didn't speak.
But she didn't disagree.
Yuta exhaled slowly.
"…Catalyst…"
Higuruma adjusted his stance slightly.
"…Accurate."
Hana looked at Takeru quietly.
Yorozu—
smiled faintly.
Takeru stood still for a moment.
Then—
he nodded once.
"…Accepted."
His hand clenched again.
A faint flicker of gold—
barely visible—
but real.
Because now—
it had a name.