A hand swung down, a simple dismantle bolstered by his massive output. Everything before him ceased to exist: the road, the buildings, the parked car blaring an alarm into an uncaring world, everything obliterated as the slash traveled toward me. I moved. I could see it as clear as day. Its power was stronger, its travel speed was faster, its cutting range was wider, but I had no reason to tank it again, not when Sukuna was already aware of my ability to see it, so I dodged, slipping past it, just to come face to face with a second one that had been following after it.
Sukuna laughed at his own cunning.
It was not the clean, surgical dismantle Sukuna had been using. This was a brute expression of power. A butcher's knife, compared to the butterfly knife strikes he had hit me with previously. This was output for output's sake. The cursed energy screamed as it tore towards and through me, space buckling under its passage. The air itself fractured, pressure slamming outward in a violent ripple that shattered the windows and buildings that were stubborn enough to survive the first.
I could not dodge, so my body hardened. I ducked in on myself like a tortoise around its own shell. My feet dug into the asphalt, sinking inches into the road as my mass settled. Muscles locked. My spine compressed until the pressure bordered on agony. My arm raised in a boxer's guard, protecting my head.
Then the dismantle struck.
For a split second, there was nothing but force as the slash bit deep, tearing into my left hand not squarely protected by the sword of extermination, then my torso, splitting flesh, rattling bone. Pain flared for a second before my body's indifference to suffering kicked in. I was driven backward, heels carving trenches through the street, concrete folding and cracking beneath my weight.
But the cut did not finish. It slowed. The cursed energy bled off on contact, dispersing faster than before, like water that had polished a bulky stone smooth, and now watched as it slipped off the stone instead of hammering into it.
KLNK
The wheel above my head turned once more. What was it, the fourth adaptation? It was not enough, but an understanding settled into me regardless. Sukuna's slashes still cut, still hurt, but they no longer bite with the same strength as they used to. With every adaptation, the technique was loosening its lethality, its killing power, and Sukuna noticed immediately. He did not automatically realize my curse technique. What he realized was the weakness of the cut.
His grin sharpened, eyes narrowing as his cursed energy surged in response, output climbing once again to compensate. More output than most sorcerers could conceivably produce in an entire lifetime. The greatest sorcerer in history showed his sublime understanding of combat. He was already adjusting on instinct, like a wolf scrambling to break through a tortoise shell after the first bite failed.
Sukuna activated his technique again, uncaring for the destruction the first two slashes had caused, the absolute ruin that was left of the neighborhood. Instead, his hand viciously swung to the side. The next dismantle came faster. This one, I knew, would tear me apart. So I ran, and the dismantle chased.
My feet cratered what was left of the ground as the invisible blade tore after me, then a shadow appeared above me, blocking the moon and creating the silhouette of a man.
"Survive this, Mahoraga!" Sukuna screamed as he shot down another dismantle. My right hand instinctively shot up, the sword of extermination in the way, and it blocked the slash. I was hit with a realization. The slash was weaker. Too weak to have done more than scratch my adapted form.
It had been a taunt, a feint to slow me down. I turned as the original slash made its way to me.
Time slowed. My winged appendage flared to the sides, granting me a near 360 degree view of my surroundings. I was going to be hit; that was not in doubt, but I needed it to benefit me. I needed a rapid counter. My wings twitched as they caught sight of something. I grinned in response.
Sukuna's dismantle tore through a line of parked cars, folding steel like wet cardboard, detonating engines in a chain of thunderous concussions before slamming into me and splitting me in half, my lower body and upper body both hurled through the glass front of a fuel station. The pumps ruptured from the force of my entry, and gas and fuel leaked out, then the sparks of fire that trailed kissed both, and for a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the world ignited.
Fire swallowed the structure in a violent boom, pressure crashing outward as the station detonated. The shockwave hit like a freight train, flattening nearby buildings, tossing debris into the sky. Sukuna vanished from the blast radius in a flicker of motion that turned him into a blur, only his laughter echoing through the inferno.
The fire burned more than anything. More than the cut that had split me in half. The pain blanked my rational mind for a second before it disappeared as quickly as it appeared, but I was still in the middle of the fire. Mahoraga's body had automatically crawled to where his lower half had been and forcibly joined the two back, making me whole once more.
I stood up, even as my pale skin charred, even as the blood in my body boiled beneath charred muscle and flesh. I let out a demented chuckle, then I walked. Slowly, ignoring the way the flames crawled over my shoulders as I stepped through the wreckage, my body already knitting itself back together. Burned flesh reforming slowly, muscle reattaching, bone settling back into place with wet, grinding sounds. Steam poured from my mouth and joints as heat met regeneration, rolling off me in thick, white plumes.
The fire clung to me for a moment longer before I stepped out of the spontaneously formed oven.
KLNK
The wheel turned again, and I chuckled, a slow, demented chuckle that Mahoraga had never given. My gamble had paid off. Purposefully aiming myself toward the gas station had worked. Things had changed. That intricate fear I had for Sukuna had not died, but it had diminished. It was only a single turn, but it was enough because of what it represented.
Sukuna sat on a ruined car, a soda in his hand, and his head tilted to the side as he watched me. Four eyes tracked me, curiosity back, as well as calculation. This time, I didn't wait; I didn't react. I struck first. The ground cratered beneath my feet as I shot forward in a shoulder check that caught him mid-motion as he moved to stand and sent him crashing through a storefront, concrete exploding outward.
He checked a follow-up punch that should have lifted him off the ground and buried him into the side of a building hard enough to crack its support beams, catching my giant fist in an open palm. So I punched with my sword hand. He twisted to the side, dodging the blow, then laughed as he pivoted on the spot and flung me away.
The moment he released my fist to send me flying, my arm snaked out and caught his own forearm. My feet dug into the ground, using him as an anchor. He only had a second of surprise before I swung to the side with my right hand, a slash from the sword that opened his side, the blade biting deep and leaving behind cursed energy that resisted his healing.
Blood splattered across the street.
Sukuna laughed, loud and genuine, even as the reverse curse technique crawled sluggishly over the wound.
"Ah, yes," he breathed. "This is it. This is a fight!"
Then his cursed energy surged again, and he did something different. There was no swing of his hand, no twist of his fingers, no gestures. Just a simple activation of his cursed technique. I had not seen this before, I realized. Sukuna was growing alongside me as we fought.
The dismantle that followed was not aimed. It was not measured. It was everywhere. Multiple dismantles fired at once, shot indiscriminately. It was like a domain expansion, without hand signs or a barrier. It was the prototype to his open domain, I realized a heartbeat later.
I flinched back, and that was what saved me. My left hand, which had been gripping his forearm, did not come back with me. Instead, it split into ribbons, blood flying as the ground split apart beneath us, the street collapsing as if erased from existence. Buildings sheared at their foundations, tilting inward as the slash plunged downward, dragging us with it. The earth screamed as layers of asphalt, concrete, and stone were torn free and gravity took hold of us.
I shifted my weight as we fell, flipping off a stone, then another. The tail behind my head helped me balance across fist-sized stones. The wings that served as eyes twitched, and I skipped a stone that a dismantle turned into dust a second later. Even while we fell, Sukuna was relentlessly trying to strike me, his laughter ringing out louder than the destruction he had rendered.
Then I slammed into the earth. Concrete had given way to tunnels. Lights flickered overhead. A railway on the left looked twisted and tortured, and with another flick of my wings I realized where we were. The subway system below. The blast wave and remaining debris landed just after I did, the air displacement bringing forth shrill screams.
My wings twitched again, and I sensed it. Movement.
Two dozen people were gathered at the edge of the pathway, bundled together as they shook on the spot, fear and worry filling them as a man stood before them. A man that staggered through the wreckage, bloodied, burned, and breathing hard.
Nanami.
His clothing was ruined, his suit and shirt gone from where he had taken on Dagon's domain with sheer durability. His glasses were missing, the left side of his body severely burnt and charred from Jogo's ambush. This was a man pushed far past his limit, a man who should be dead, and yet he still moved with purpose. His hand still gripped his short, one-sided blade, its dulled edge buried in the middle of a transfigured human.
Even as he stood, dying, he still fought to protect. He turned to face me, only a single eye working, half his head burnt and charred to nothing. He looked at me with an eye that saw, yet did not comprehend. Did not understand.
A twitch of my wings. This time sensing curse energy and not just physical presence. There was something else here, someone else. I turned to a side tunnel and pointed with my sword hand. Nothing moved for a second, then I let out a low growl, enough to resonate in the weakened structure.
A pale-haired, patchworked curse that could be mistaken for human stepped from the shadows, smiling. His blue and grey eyes were little dots on his face.
"Ah, I didn't think anyone would spot me. Then again, I didn't think you guys would find your way down here either."
The snake had been trailing after Nanami, waiting for him to be at his weakest. For the first time since I came into existence, I wished to kill something.
That was when he finally arrived.
Sukuna landed hard, his stance low, and he took a split second to take in everything before deciding nothing had changed. "Focus on me, Mahoraga!" He screamed as he swung down once more, careless and overwhelming and unrestrained. His output soared once more, an attempt to keep up with my adaptation. The dismantle tore forward, wide enough to annihilate the platform, the humans, everything.
Nanami.
I stepped forward.
I was already swinging before rational thought crept in, unveiling a secret trump card I had hoped to use to surprise Sukuna. My feet braced to absorb the force, then the sword of extermination swung, its grey edge screaming as it caught the technique and forced it aside. Deflecting it upward and behind me. The cursed energy howled as it ripped through the ceiling. Steel beams snapped. Concrete shattered. Everything groaned but remained in place.
I turned my head just enough to look at Nanami.
Once.
Then I slammed my foot down. The subway roof collapsed inward. The tunnel gave way. Walls folded inward as the structure finally gave up and collapsed, tons of debris burying the platform and sealing the pathway to Nanami and the remaining humans beneath layers of earth and stone.
Out of sight, and out of reach. This was as much as I could give him. Whether he survived and got help now was up to his resilience.
Sukuna stilled, like he had not expected it, like something had fundamentally changed. He tilted his head, curiosity and amusement on his face as he watched the destruction settle.
Mahito peeked from behind a broken pillar, eyes bright. "Sukuna-sama, looks like you're having some trouble. Should I..."
A careless dismantle crossed the space between them, and Mahito was cut in half a second later, blood splattering as the technique continued to carve a deeper line into the walls.
His body hit the ground in two pieces, blood and bone already reshaping itself, his body already reforming as he scrambled backward, grin gone. "I'll take that as a no then," he said with an annoying laugh. He looked at the passage where Nanami was, at the stones and debris that blocked it, then let out an annoyed grunt and fled into the tunnels without another word, looking for easier prey.
That left only us.
"Hm," he mused. "Was that the will of your summoner, Mahoraga? To protect that sorcerer? Was that sorcerer's life important enough for you to reveal that you can deflect my cursed technique now?" He questioned. Of course, he noticed it.
My reply was silence once more as I flexed my wrist. That I could deflect a dismantle did not change the fact that the force continued, traveling forward and leaving my body to bear the brunt.
Sukuna rolled his shoulders, dismissive. "Tch. Doesn't matter. This simply further shows that you can plan, you can think, you can adapt!" Sukuna cracked his neck, cursed energy surging once more, eyes burning as he finished, "but so can I, Mahoraga!."
The wheel above my head turned once more in anticipation of renewed violence.
KLNK
Megumi Fushiguro
Megumi ran through the blood-stained and scorched streets of Shibuya, but this was not a blind, directionless trip. He spun into an alleyway and caught sight of a roving cursed spirit. He didn't have the time to waste on it. He bounced off the wall, gripped a windowsill, then hauled himself upwards, and flipped onto the roof to better make speed.
He was not running off on simple panic; he had a direction and the focus to match. He stopped for a second, using the higher vantage point to figure out the direction he was going and the best path, before jumping off the roof, his reinforced body cushioning against the force of the jump, then he propelled himself forward in a sprinter's stance.
His feet took him once more, tearing past broken bodies, cracked roads, blood-splattered walls as he ran. Fast enough that his lungs burned and his legs screamed as his already diminished cursed energy further reinforced muscle and tendon, every step of the way as he tore his way toward the ramp that led into the underground corridors of Shibuya.
He spotted it seconds later, the entrance lights flickering from the damage it had suffered, but its presence reminded him of why he was here. He spared only a second to look at the map beside the ramp. Floors B1. B2. B3. B4.
B5. The location where Gojo sensei was last seen and believed to be sealed. He did not so much as run down the stairs. He flung himself down them, clearing everything to land in a crouch, then he was moving again, this time through the underground corridors of Shibuya.
For a second, he feared he might be late. He had spent way too much time helping Yaga, Ijichi, and Lerir carry the wounded away to another safe zone ever since Sukuna compromised the former. Then he had taken the time to help stabilize those who could still be stabilized. Basic first aid made him a valuable aid, even if Ieiri's hands did most of the heavy lifting.
"Fushiguro."
Yaga's voice had stopped him mid-stride.
"You've done enough here. I've been unable to contact Kusakabe. Panda, fortunately, was able to reach Aoi Todo and Arata Nitta. They're on their way to B5 to go and unseal Gojo. I recommend you get there as soon as possible. I'll stay behind and ensure Ieiri and the rest are protected, so... good luck, kid."
That had been all. He had given a single nod in response before turning on the spot and sprinting away. He was tired, even if his injuries had been healed, he was still exhausted. Yet, Ieiri was right; without Gojo Satoru, there was no winning this.
The corridors shook as he ran. This was not the familiar explosions that had heralded the beginning of the night, when curses, transfigured humans, and curse users were the worst of their problems. This felt like someone was picking the city up and slamming it back down again and again. Thunderous blows echoed even deep in the tunnels, shaking them.
Mahoraga was still holding Sukuna back.
If his rebellious but surprisingly nice Shikigami was doing all that it could, then he couldn't simply laze about. So it was with that thought that he put on another burst of speed, rounding the tunnel and making his way to B5 in full, only to freeze in realization that he was not the first person there.
Todo stood there, broad shoulders squared, arms folded in front of his chest, blood drying along his fists, and flinty dark eyes already on Megumi the moment he rounded into the floor. Beside him, crouched on the ground and staring at a small crater in the earth was Arata Nitta. The first-year student of Kyoto Technical School looked pale, his eyes wide behind his glasses, before he recognized Megumi.
Megumi shifted his gaze from the duo to where Satoru-sensei was supposed to be. The crater in the ground was empty.
They were too late.
"The enemy?" he questioned, even though he had a clear idea.
"Gone. Alongside Gojo Satoru."
Megumi's stomach dropped.
"That's bad," he said, but he didn't even recognize his voice.
Todo shrugged. "The moment we got to Shibuya, we came here straight away, but he was already missing. Arata is trying to see if he can pick up any residue, but—" Todo waved his hands around at all the blood and damage that filled the underground subway. The sheer amount of violence that had been unleashed here was more than most sorcerers were capable of. "—as you can see, it's been a waste."
"We have to find him, the sorcerer couldn't have gone far," Megumi replied, his head turning, just like Arata was doing, trying to find a trace of Gojo's residual curse energy. He was familiar enough with his teacher to pick it out even in the middle of this mess. Todo shrugged in response before speaking.
"You can do that, I'll—" Before Todo could complete the sentence, there was an explosion of sound, the air pressure shifted as the entire city lurched in response. A tremor shook the entire subway, followed by a shockwave, as the air itself flexed, pressure rolling through the underground space hard enough to knock Arata onto his back and send dust raining from the ceiling. Lights flickered, some bursting outright.
Todo only tucked his knees slightly to steady himself, his feet planted squarely into the ground. Then he continued, "…I'll go and take a look at what's happening up there."
Megumi swallowed. "It's Sukuna. Something happened, I don't know what, but Itadori has been suppressed, and Sukuna is in control. Ierie sensei suspects he's been force-fed more of Sukuna's fingers, and that's what has suppressed him."
Todo frowned. Megumi knew he was close with Itadori, and his expression explained as much. "Who is he fighting?"
"Mahoraga."
Todo looked at him with a raised brow, tilted his head as if he was trying to figure out if he had heard the name before, so Megumi explained. "He's my Shikigami, I don—"
"He's that sense of danger!" Todo explained at once, a grin creeping back to his face, slow and dangerous. "You're telling me you finally summoned it?"
Times like this Megumi found it hard to deny Todo's acclaimed 530,000 IQ, because very often, he made such leaps of logic that surprised everyone else.
Before Megumi could answer, footsteps echoed from a side passage.
Slow and uneven in its cadence.
Everyone turned. Todo still looked unbothered; he only turned his head. Arata scrambled behind his upperclassman while Megumi shifted his fingers, locking them in the shape to summon his preferred shikigami.
Then Nanami Kento emerged from the shadows. Or what was left of him. Megumi's eyes widened as he watched the blond-haired man walk toward them, his single visible eye shaking unfocused in its socket. Megumi almost didn't recognize him. The last time he saw him was right after they survived Dagon's domain. When the strange man had abducted him. What happened after?
Half of Nanami's body was burned black and raw, flesh ruined down to muscle and bone in places. His suit was gone, glasses missing, face slack with pain and delirium. Blood soaked the floor with every step, yet he still walked. One arm hung limp, the other held his short blade forward, and behind him were clueless civilians who followed behind him, like chicks behind a mother hen.
His voice rang out in the silence, quiet but hoarse murmurs.
"Move," Nanami muttered. "Don't stop. They still need you. Just one more step."
Todo acted instantly. "Arata."
Arata didn't hesitate. He ran to Nanami, alongside Megumi.
"Nanami-sensei," Megumi called out as he stopped in front of the sorcerer. Nanami's single eye focused for a split second.
"Pale giant. Itadori. Sukuna. Megumi." His words were broken mutterings that nobody paid note to, but he stopped before them, instinctively understanding he was with allies now. His body dropped to his knees as Arata went to his back, his hands shaking as he activated his cursed technique, freezing the progression of Nanami's wounds and locking them in place before they could worsen.
Nanami sagged, breath hitching, but he stayed upright.
Megumi turned to Arata, and the blond replied to his unasked question. "My technique also helps reduce the pain the subject is feeling." Megumi nodded, just as another shockwave hit mid-technique to the squealing and cries of the civilians around.
The ceiling groaned in response as Todo looked up. "We have to stop that fight now, otherwise at this rate," he said quietly, "there won't be a Shibuya left to save." He turned to Arata. "Stay with the civilians and Nanami. Megumi... come with me."
Then he turned, his jacket hanging on his shoulders like a cape as he walked out of the subway, a tired Megumi trailing behind him.
Big Ragga
The city was coming apart at its seams. It was a slow death in comparison to what it had suffered in the original timeline. The damage was smaller, restrained because I was not jumping to the sky and throwing airplanes at Sukuna, but there was only so much that could be preserved when only one participant in the fight showed the barest care for every other being, living or otherwise, in a 200-meter radius. The city would die, and it was only a matter of time unless I did something about it.
That was the conclusion I reached as another wave of Sukuna's cursed energy tore through the streets, buildings folding inward like wet paper as Sukuna unleashed another Dismantle that obliterated everything in its path. I could survive this. My body had already adapted more than enough. I could still be cut, I could still be hurt, but the speed at which I regenerated from the damage was more than Sukuna could output with only fifteen fingers' worth of his power.
I could survive, but Shibuya would not if things continued like this.
I swam through the eddies of his cursed energy, through the Dismantle, ignoring the quickly healed slashes that scattered around my form, then came out of the other side with fist outstretched, the Sword of Extermination leading the charge. Sukuna caught my dive with an open palm.
Tai Chi.
He redirected my body, flinging it to the side. I flipped midair, landed feet first on the building he threw me toward, sparing the scattered life signs I could spot inside. My feet dug deep into the structure, and it shook in response to the force. Then, I began to move upward, running up the wall like it was a straight road, my toes digging in grips, then releasing a second later, my tail flicking behind me to better keep balance. Then I flipped onto the roof and spun on the spot, lashing out with a kick that caught a pursuing Sukuna straight in the face, and even as I heard his jaw snap in response, the King of Curses laughed as he was sent flying, the resulting shockwave destroying anything not nailed down.
I dropped my feet to the ground only to realize I was a few inches off. It took two seconds to regenerate my ankle and feet back.
Malevolent Shrine would not finish this. I'd adapted enough to the point that Sukuna's domain expansion would only be an annoyance. What would finish it is Fuga. Shrine to soften me, then Fuga to erase what remained. I knew it, and somehow I was sure Sukuna was slowly coming to the same realization. He had already noticed I was adapting, and while he didn't adapt in the same way, he was adapting all the same.
His dodges were smoother, his cursed energy output was higher, and flowed better. He was also avoiding the Sword of Extermination more, while shifting martial arts stances like he had an entire catalogue in his head. It was off-putting.
The roof exploded beneath my feet as I hurled myself in the same direction I'd sent Sukuna. He saw me coming from a mile off, then he swung his hand down in a jagged motion, but he couldn't deceive me. He couldn't deceive my senses that had adapted perfectly to his technique.
A feint.
I grinned widely. Pearly jagged teeth stretched my lips in amusement. He actually did it. The fake pump that almost killed Mahoraga in a single blow.
I bull rushed him instead of dodging or retreating, forcing him to throw out a hurried dismantle to give him time to recover, but I deflected it to the side and crossed the distance in a single breath, before burying my fist into his ribs in an upercut that flung him back one more time and through a massive storefront.
I didn't give him another second to breathe. I followed through, crashing through and into the building, only to see him standing in place, staring down at his left hand. His breathing was steady, but something else was wrong. His cursed energy output surged, then wavered. Then that arm twitched; it was minuscule. A muscle there that led to a tendon, and a finger curled in on itself.
Itadori.
The boy was finally fighting back.
Sukuna clicked his tongue, annoyance flashing across his face. "I was enjoying this so much that I didn't realize just how much it's dragged on."
He was right. This was longer than the original fight, and he had never realized, not because he was losing, but because I was different. He was enjoying this because I was forcing him to think, to adjust, to push in ways Canon Mahoraga never had. I was hurting him.
He turned to me. "But no matter how fun this is, I think it's time to finally close the curtains on it. I need to leave something wonderful for my vessel to remember me by, and hopefully, the next time I return, you'll remain just as fun."
His hands lifted. He took his time, a grin on his face, knowing I wouldn't be able to get to him in time. My wings twitched. I felt it before he spoke. The gathering of cursed energy. The way everything stilled. He was about to open his domain.
Then, before he could say the words, my wings twitched again as I sensed a familiar cursed energy. Then it picked up movement. Two heartbeats, two footsteps, two figures. One of them Fushiguro. Sukuna sensed it too, because his eyes flicked sideways for just a heartbeat, then he hesitated, and I suddenly remembered. Sukuna wanted Megumi alive just as much as I did.
I exploded into motion, crossing the gap in a heartbeat. If he had been focused on me, he would have activated his domain faster than I could have crossed the distance, but that split-second distraction cost him. I swung at once, aiming to shear his left hand off, but he shifted to the side at the last second, and I carved a line across his side, but I didn't stop. I spun and lashed out with a kick before he could recover, sending him crashing through the wall and toward the street below.
I followed immediately after, leading sword first, but he was already gone. He had rolled to the side, flipped to his feet, somersaulted backward, and made distance again. His four eyes narrowed on me at once, distraction gone, but I could feel him compensate already. My wings twitched, giving me a clearer view of the duo racing their way to us. Leading the duo was a buff boy with a pineapple hairdo that could only be Todo, while Megumi trailed behind, flagging as exhaustion caught up to him.
I realized what Sukuna was going to do the moment he locked his hands again into his mudra.
An open domain, but smaller and more controlled. This would not be the same 140-meter domain that had killed thousands and broken his vessel from the inside. Instead, this would simply kill hundreds and turn the entire two blocks around us into nothing. I had lost. Sukuna would do what he always wanted to do even if it was on a smaller scale. I might survive, but I felt an ache in the pit of my existence that told me I had lost this particular battle.
Then, Todo screamed, "Itadori!"
My wings twitched in realization. He'd gotten closer. He was getting closer with each breath, courtesy of his technique. His technique.
My neck spun in place and snapped to him, and Todo looked back at me.
It was for just a fraction of a second. I could not speak. I didn't gesture. There was no time for either; there was only time for a single communication, and I did it via my body.
I shifted my weight, the angle of my stance, the tension in my limbs, the way my wings shifted, framing Sukuna and myself and the space between us, the way the tail trailed behind my head.
The sum total of our communication was pure nonsense to someone watching from outside, and if it were any other person, it would have been a waste, and yet once again, my gamble paid off.
Todo's eyes widened, and my grin widened.
I'd gambled on Aoi Todo's intellect. Not his supposed IQ of 530,000. I was not sure how true that was, but what could not be understated was that Todo had a mind faster than any other. A head for combat that surpassed any bar, Gojo Satoru, of course. It was that combat intellect I was counting on, that ridiculous, terrifying mind of his that allowed him to mesh and fight alongside anybody so smoothly it was like him and the person were two parts of a whole.
I didn't wait for confirmation. Instead, I viciously tore the Sword of Extermination free from my forearm. My flesh split, and bone cracked as the fused Special Grade cursed tool was ripped out.
I hurled it at Sukuna a heartbeat later. The blade screamed as it tore through the air, spinning end over end toward Sukuna. The King of Curses barely reacted, other than a slight tilt of his head to the side, lips curling in amusement at my last-ditch effort, then parting as his cursed energy surged once again.
"Domain Expansion—"
I exploded forward, a crater forming beneath my feet as I rushed toward him in a straight line.
"—Malevolent Sh—"
Todo clapped.
The world shifted in response to the cursed technique, and I shifted alongside it. I was suddenly behind Sukuna.
My momentum did not suddenly vanish. It carried through the swap, forcing me to spin on the spot and clamp my huge hands above and below his head, shutting him up before Sukuna could so much as blink in realization. The Sword of Extermination that had swapped places with me acted. The blade had also kept its momentum and carved past his fingers and buried itself into his chest, piercing straight through flesh and heart alike.
For the first time, Sukuna gasped.
Then I hardened my grip on his head and twisted up and to the side. Not all the way. Just enough. His neck broke as the vertebrae that held it straight dislocated with a wet, final sound. The angle was precise and calculated to inflict paralysis but not death. Then I released my hands, and his body collapsed like a sack of flour.
I kicked him onto his back and planted my foot on the side of his face, driving his head into the asphalt, grinding it down as cursed energy flared beneath my heel and Sukuna struggled. He couldn't heal the neck. Not while I kept pressure on the dislocation, and he was forcing cursed energy into a heart that had been perforated.
To heal his neck, he would have to leave his heart long enough to force his reverse-cursed energy to overpower the pressure my foot was placing on it.
Yet despite everything, despite being outplayed, Sukuna's secondary eyes shifted in their sockets to look at me, and his lips twisted into a smile.
I leaned closer.
Words were not shared, but we grinned at each other. There was no hatred. No anger. No rage. Only recognition. My win was ambiguous, his defeat was a messy thing, diluted by outside interference, and a hefty dose of cheating on my end, but all of that did not matter.
I won. I just beat Jujutsu Satan.
Where my grin promised the next time we fought, my win would be cleaner, his promised certain death.
Then the markings began to fade.
The tattoos peeled away like water washing off ink. The extra eyes smoothed over as skin took their place. And the inexplicable weight that was Sukuna's presence, that was his malevolent, cursed energy signature, lifted.
Sukuna's eyes closed, and Itadori Yuji's eyes blinked open. Confusion crossed his face, then pain, raw and immediate as his body realized what had been done to it. I lifted my foot from his broken neck. and he coughed in response.
Blood poured from his mouth and splattered across the ground.
"Brother!" Todo yelled, then clapped again.
The world shifted, leaving me standing a few feet away. My wings twitched, and I observed Todo standing right where I'd been. He was on his knees, cradling Itadori's body, hands rigid as he made a decision, ignoring the broken neck to apply pressure to the wound on his chest, his hands shifting around the blade to stem the bleeding that refused to stop.
I turned just as Megumi finally arrived, panting and puffing seriously as he bent over, struggling for breath. Then he raised his head and stopped dead. He stared at Itadori's broken form with a pale face, till I clapped a solid hand on his shoulder and gave him as solid a look as I could when I had wings for eyes.
It was up to him now.
The wheel above my head turned.
KLNK
Megumi looked at the scene before him, still uncomprehending. Still surprised. He had been too slow to get here, even as fatigued as he was, even with recently healed injuries, still he had made the arduous journey.
Through shockwaves and explosions, through blows that shook the earth, Megumi ran on. His surroundings were completely ruined. The few buildings that still stood were, as a result of luck more than the capability of their structural reinforcement. The sight of the battle's climax was something out of a movie, and yet. Yet, Megumi could not appreciate it, could not even spare it a glance, not when the sight of Itadori Yuji took his attention, the younger muscle-headed boy, broken and crushed in the aftermath.
Megumi blanked out as he watched Todo cradle Yuji, until he felt it, or more accurately, he finally noticed it. A pressure. It was not simply cursed energy; it was also something more... He struggled to pick a word, and when he found himself devoid of one, he simply turned woodenly in time to see Mahoraga walk up to him.
Every one of the shikigami's steps was so heavy, even without any whole concrete underneath its feet to crack, every footstep rattled something in Megumi.
"In the whole of the history of the Ten Shadows Technique, no user has ever tamed the Divine General."
That single quote reminded him of the power of the shikigami before him, its unrestrained and mercurial nature. That he was still alive was a mystery; that it had made sure to protect him and take him to Shoko for healing had been an inconceivable thought before now, and yet all of that happened. And in the midst of that, he had lost focus, lost perspective, and now, as it walked up to him, with the background of destruction It had carved into Shibuya alongside Sukuna, Megumi was forced to consider if this was actually the end. If the shikigami was done having its fun and was finally ready to complete the ritual.
He took a step backwards instinctively, his hands rising up, his pose shifting. One hand over the other, ready to spin the wheel that signifies summoning the divine general, only to be hit with the reminder... The Divine General was already before him. Megumi let out a bark of laughter, then another, before he was all but folded under, tears mixing with anger and rage at his circumstances. Then Mahoraga's hand clamped on his shoulders and pulled him upright.
He looked at the face of the shikigami, and its features were too inhuman to describe, but from what little bond they shared as a result of the creature being born from his cursed technique, even if it was not subjugated, Megumi had a vague feeling that the shikigami thought he was stupid. That opinion was not helped by the fact that one of its wing appendages went up, much like a brow raise.
Then it turned that massive head to the side. Those creepy wing eyes of Its twitched at the duo a few steps away before it refocused on him. Megumi blinked away the tears from his eyes, bewildered and confused at whatever the shikigami was trying to say or communicate. Mahoraga tilted its head to the side. Its purplish tongue slipped past its lips like a snake to wet them, but still it did not speak. Instead, its grip on Megumi's shoulder tightened, then it pointed at him, then gestured at where Todo was on his knees with Itadori in hand.
"Y-You want me to console Todo?" he asked, the question sounding more stupid when spoken than it did in his head, and the way Mahoraga looked at him told him he was not the only person who thought so. Mahoraga's head tilted to the side again. It shifted the weight of its feet once more, and Megumi could tell the shikigami was getting annoyed. Then, faster than Megumi could move or react, Mahoraga acted.
His right hand lashed out, turning into a blur, and slammed into Megumi's stomach. His eyes widened until he realized it did not hurt. Instead, Mahoraga's palm encompassed his stomach, and then he felt it. Mahoraga's cursed energy slipped into him, and from the depths of his being, he felt the reply of nine other voices. They came as a trill, a howl, a trumpet, a roar, a chitter, yet just as quickly as they came to life, they went silent, until only one continued to ring out, a mooing sound and the sensation of something rousing, shaking off its bindings with annoyance before poking at Megumi's awareness.
Mahoraga's hand left his stomach, and Megumi was shocked back to the real world. His eyes just as wide.
"What was that?" he questioned, and in response, Mahoraga stilled, the kind of stillness that came from violence, and that was enough to snap Megumi out of whatever fugue he had found himself in. He was not stupid. His grief had blinded him to what Mahoraga's gestures had meant, but after what the shikigami just did, Megumi would need to be completely stupid not to understand.
His movement was frantic, his fingers shifting into the correct form. He hesitated for a split second, his eyes traveling to Mahoraga. This was going to be a subjugation ritual, one that he had always lost because the shikigami was just too stubborn to lose, and now he would be trying again, yet the real question was if he would be able to keep two subjugation rituals up, and if the second would cancel the first.
Mahoraga remained still, its massive frame locked in place as it watched him. Then Megumi focused. There was no time to waste on that. Drawing what was left of his cursed energy, he called,
Ten Shadows Technique: Round Deer.
His shadow lengthened beneath him, shifting consistency from simply darkness cast by light to something viscous and liquid that his feet sank into until it got to his ankles. Then out of the shadow, a hulking creature slowly pulled itself into reality. The first part to be exposed were its horns, pale and sharpened into five points on each side of its head. The points came down into the head as the rest of its body was revealed. Its back was turned to him, but Megumi could still remember its features. Four uncaring eyes placed in an arch around its face. A muzzle that chewed on nothing. The hulking deer, a creature of massive muscle, fat, and bristling fur with iron-cloven hooves, stepped out of his shadows, then stamped on the ground in seeming irritation.
"Heal him," Megumi said, pointing at Itadori. "Heal Itadori Yuji," he ordered.
The deer turned its head to him and let out a short snort of amusement, then turned away, discarding his presence and his commands, reminding Megumi that it was not his to command, not when he had proven too weak to subjugate it.
A growl rang out, a low vibration that rattled everything not nailed to the ground, and in response, Round Deer stilled. Then it did the impossible. Its front hooves lowered, and its head dipped as it shifted into a bow. A bow it rendered to the Divine General standing before it, arms folded akimbo. Then Round Deer straightened up and turned to Yuji.
Todo had shifted in response to the growl and turned in confusion at the trio, while Megumi was frozen in place as every few seconds he learned more things about his technique. There was a hierarchy. It was not that surprising. He remembered what happened when he was summoning Mahoraga. He remembered the way every other shikigami had acted, the cries they made, the calls they let out. It was like loyal retainers watching their lord returning home. However, the true surprise was experiencing that hierarchy. Mahoraga could communicate and order his shikigami even without a subjugation ritual.
"What is your shikigami doing, Fushiguro?"
Megumi blinked, then turned to Todo, the question just registering.
"It can use the Reverse Cursed Technique," he started, his words jittery, then he focused as the deer stopped before Todo and Yuji. "It can use positive cursed energy."
Todo's eyes widened, and he immediately lay Yuji before the shikigami. Itadori's eyes were already closed, his heart was not beating, and yet when Round Deer placed its head on him, his body twitched, muscles spasming and contracting, nerves firing as his heart was slowly forced to heal and mend. It was still for a second, then Megumi spotted Mahoraga's smile, and Yuji jerked up with a gasp as his heart began to pump again.
"Brother!"
Todo screamed as he hugged Yuji, while Megumi was left gasping in shock. It actually worked. He did not think it would, but it actually did. Round Deer let out a snort of annoyance at the noise, then it turned away from the duo and trotted back to him. Its four eyes were fixated on Mahoraga for a second, but whatever the shikigami communicated, Megumi was left ignorant of it. Instead, the deer turned back to Megumi, gave him another amused snort before it lost coherence, turning into gulps of shadow and condensed cursed energy before disappearing.
It had unsummoned itself. It was not subjugated. The ritual of subjugation of the rest of the shikigami in his arsenal was not a do-or-die affair like it was with Mahoraga. If he proved unable to subjugate the shikigami, he could release it or allow it to release itself.
Megumi turned back to Mahoraga, who was looking in the far distance with complicated feelings, as he was slowly struck with the realization that Mahoraga had planned everything. It had planned the whole fight against Sukuna right down to the end. It had killed Itadori, knowing that he would get here in time for Round Deer to still be able to revive him. Did Mahoraga do all this following subconscious orders from him to protect Itadori? The odds of that were small, not when the shikigami remained unsubjugated, yet... No, it did not matter in the end. Mahoraga was not simply an it, Mahoraga was a he.
A giant hand landed on the top of his head and ruffled it, then just as fast as it came it was gone, and before Megumi could turn to Mahoraga, he heard his name.
"Megumi!" the revived Itadori called out. "Come and join in!"
Megumi discarded the thoughts and worries as he smiled and walked up to the duo. Itadori was alive. That was enough for him for now. He could figure out Mahoraga at another time.
YUKI TSUKUMO
Yuki lowered the binoculars with a satisfied hum, her lips quirking into a small smile as she watched the three boys converge. Her boy looked fine. Todo could act tough, and the kid was tough most of the time, but she was one of the few who recognized that under that strength was a strange softness. Regardless of that, he was fine.
Sukuna's vess- Itadori Yuji, she corrected herself, was alive. Against all odds, against everything that should have been possible given the previous hole in his chest and the broken neck. The kid had more lives than a cat, and apparently, friends willing to bend the rules of Jujutsu sorcery and regulations to keep him breathing.
"Well, that's one crisis averted," she muttered to herself, slipping the binoculars into the saddlebag of her motorcycle. The bike gleamed in the ambient light of the ruined city, a pristine machine despite the chaos that had torn through Shibuya like a natural disaster.
She was about to turn away, to leave the cleanup to the higher-ups who were undoubtedly scrambling to contain the fallout, when she felt it.
A pulse of cursed energy. It was strange and twisted. Wrong in a way that made her instincts scream out in danger.
Yuki's smile faded, replaced by a frown as she turned her attention toward the source. It was distant, kilometers away perhaps, somewhere in the heart of the devastation. The signature was clearly from a curse spirit, yet different, like cursed energy filtered through something else. It flared once, then settled a second later.
"What the hell was that?" she murmured, her hand moving instinctively toward the shikigami floating beside her hips. Her fingers brushed its scaled back. The physical manifestation of her innate technique chirped at the attention, then her hand stilled.
No. She did not need to act. Whatever that was, it was already stabilizing. And with Shibuya in the state it was, with casualties mounting and curses and transfigured humans still running loose in the outer districts, charging headlong into an unknown threat that was not causing any immediate damage was stupid.
Yuki Tsukumo might have been reckless, but she was not exactly stupid, at least not as stupid as Satoru if the brat really got trapped and stolen away.
"Not my problem," she said with an uncaring shrug. She would investigate later, of course. After she checked in with Tengen. After she made sure the barriers around the tombs were still holding. After... dammit. This was why she did not like returning to Japan. She had better things to do than act as Satoru's replacement, stamping down on every single problem the higher-ups decided to send her way... but she was already here. She might as well take a look.
She brought out her binoculars and looked in the direction she felt the strange cursed energy, but there was no one there. It had come from beneath the ground. Well, she tried, she told herself with another shrug, then movement caught her eye.
Yuki's gaze snapped back to the trio of boys and raised a brow in surprise.
The shikigami was staring at her.
Mahoraga. The Divine General. Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga, to use its full title. The thing that had just gone toe to toe with Sukuna and won. She did not know much about it other than what she had managed to rifle through the Zenin clan archive when she sought more ways to accomplish her goals.
The shikigami did not have eyes. Not in the traditional sense. Those wing-like appendages that framed its head served the purpose. She knew that much from the reports she had read in the archive. But even from this distance, even with kilometers of ruined cityscape between them, Yuki could feel its attention lock onto her like torchlight pointed in the dark.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Yuki stood beside her motorcycle, Garuda bristling as it floated up behind her in a domineering display, her cursed energy coiled instinctively beneath her skin. Mahoraga stood among the ruins, surrounded by the boys it had apparently decided to protect, its massive frame utterly still in that way that spoke of perfect control of its own body.
Yuki wasn't sure she could have come out of that fight as seemingly unscathed as the Shikigami looked.
She grinned.
It was a sharp thing, all teeth and challenge, the kind of expression she wore when she found something interesting. Something worth remembering, something worth exchanging blows with. She raised her free hand, pressed two fingers to her lips, and blew the shikigami a kiss.
The gesture was absurd, playful, and completely inappropriate given the circumstances, but she just could not resist.
Mahoraga's head tilted exactly one degree to the left.
Yuki's grin widened. "Oh, yeah, you're definitely smarter than the records suggested," she said to the distant figure, knowing it could not possibly hear her but somehow certain it understood anyway. "We'll need to have a proper conversation sometime. When there are not quite so many corpses around."
She tilted her head to match his. "I wonder." Her grin shifted into something softer. "Do you have a type?"
Mahoraga simply stared at her, so she shrugged her shoulders. She tried at least.
She swung her leg over the motorcycle, slipped the binoculars back into the saddlebag, then started the machine, smiling as the engine roared to life with a twist of her grip on its handles, the sound echoing through the ruins.
Mahoraga's wing eyes tracked her movement. Still watching her despite the distance.
Yuki revved the engine once more, then paused. Her expression shifted one final time, the playfulness fading into something more serious.
"Take care of them," she called out with a wave behind her, her voice carrying across the distance with a thread of cursed energy woven through the words. "They're going to need it in the days ahead."
The wheel above Mahoraga's head turned once.
KLNK.
"Right then," Yuki muttered, turning the bike toward the outer edge of Shibuya. "Time to see what kind of mess and horrible decisions the higher-ups have made while I wasn't looking."
Right from his birth, from the moment when he pulled himself from the fetid womb of his creation, Mahito had known that he was special.
He was not a simple cog in the wheel like most cursed spirits, and the form he had taken after his birth had made that further clear. He was different. A true person. A genuine human. That was the essence of his being. He was a cursed spirit, one that was born from accumulated human fear, jealousy, and hatred. Emotions so intrinsic to what it meant to be human. The difference was blurred.
He signified the pinnacle of Jogo's and the rest of the disaster curses' belief that cursed spirits were the true humans. Jogo had cried tears of volcanic black the moment he had set his single massive eye upon him.
Then he had been named, a name that was not a mistake. Mahito was the first of a new breed of cursed spirits, a special breed, and he had enjoyed the privilege such entailed. He was born a special grade, with a cursed technique that was far beyond most others. He had a growth curve that Jogo and Kenjaku had mused about. It was too fast, just like a human, Kenjaku had wondered aloud, with an odd look in his eyes, and a smile that Mahito had learnt to copy early.
That power, that skill had translated into strength quickly. The human-like genius quality, resilience, and adaptability under pressure had ensured he learned domain expansion so quickly, an act that immediately put him above most cursed spirits once more, highlighting a belief he had held from the moment he was born.
He was special.
That was a lie. Staring at the white shikigami with a strange soul, fighting against Sukuna was a clarity-defining moment, and a psyche-shattering juncture. It was a long time coming. His driving force was his impulsive human malice. He had no true long-term goals. He simply pursued whatever gave him satisfaction and amusement. He was special enough to take such pleasures as they came.
Till he met someone that was the epitome of self-interest and satisfaction. Ryomen Sukuna. He had touched on the sorcerer's soul and had understood him more than any other person did. They were kindred flames, more alike than even Sukuna realized, and yet where he had previously found camaraderie in the reincarnated sorcerer as Itadori Yuji cracked under the weight of their shared malice all too quickly, he found out that the reincarnated sorcerer did not care for him. For their shared essence.
A wave of a hand had sent out a Dismantle that cut deep enough to touch his soul when Itadori entered his domain. He had retreated, had suppressed the confusion and explained it away under the heat of combat, and the fact that the ancient sorcerer had previously warned him against touching his soul, and yet it happened again. Without any warning, without any care for his existence. He had been treated like a fly, and cut in half beneath Shibuya's subways, and had been left scurrying like a rat.
The one person that could relate to one of his driving factors had deemed him irrelevant.
Then there was the shikigami with a twisted soul.
The force wave of one of the clashes sent cars and an electric pole flying, and a few seconds later, the hulking shikigami was thrown through a building, one that housed a dozen screaming humans. Mahito watched as the shikigami put in the effort to twist and turn in obscene ways that ensured he didn't crash into the humans, while waving the forearm blade in a dance that sliced apart the chunks of rocks that had followed it into the building.
The sum of the movements had been quick, taking only a second, and then he was out once more, leaving the surprised and shell-shocked humans safe and completely unharmed, as it went crashing against Sukuna once more, and their fight relocated them to another district.
Mahito stood there, and once more it burned. He knew the shikigami had seen him. Its wings had flickered in the slightest, its head had tilted, and yet, just like Sukuna, it had decided he was irrelevant. Just like Sukuna, the shikigami's existence spoke to him in a different sort of way. He had not had the chance to touch the shikigami to have a proper feel for its soul, but Mahito's technique ensured that sight was enough to let him know the shikigami was different.
He could not fully understand, not without touching the shikigami at least, but from what he could feel and sense, the shikigami had touched upon a concept that had been hidden from him for so long, that being the deepest truths and secrets of the soul. The shikigami had grasped the true essence of the soul. A soul more human than any other. An aware soul in a body that enhanced that awareness. It was a form and understanding that Mahito could only vaguely grasp. For all his repeated rapid growth and evolutions, he only had a vague vision of it, a vague vision that the shikigami had grasped in full, and yet...
Once more, he had been deemed irrelevant. In the face of the two giants, with such intricate depths to them, he was ignored. His obsession with Itadori Yuji suddenly seemed so quaint all of a sudden. His impulsive desire to break and destroy the soul of the boy he had figured as his natural enemy suddenly didn't seem much fun again. Even the thought of rushing to where the sheltered and confused humans were hiding and transfiguring them suddenly felt like a chore.
Mahito turned away from the city-shaking fights and began to walk down the broken road listlessly. Dull eyes wandered, looking without truly seeing as he was hit with realization upon realization. His body twitched, and without his input, his curse energy surged like a wave, then ebbed into a tide, fluctuating without his control, order, or command. Mahito was not aware of this. He was not aware of the evolution he was going through, because for the first time, it was not evolution brought about by the human desire to survive when faced with certain death. It was an evolution brought about by the sudden doubt of a being's place in the world.
He walked past a transfigured human that cooed at him like a chick to a mother bird, and he didn't spare it a thought. Instead, his focus was turned inward. Had he always been this small and insignificant? Were they all? The rest of the disaster curses were dead. Hanami by Gojo Satoru's hands. Dagon by the strange man with a soul and body unity that Mahito had slinked away from, and finally Jogo to Sukuna's flames.
Was this all the sum of their efforts? All of them dead, and him alone and insignificant?
He stopped. Was this what it meant to be a true human, this startling feeling of uselessness? Needing people to validate your existence? His head tilted to the side, as the shattered glass that was his psyche, that was the essence of his being, began to come together and merge into a different form, into some sort of coherence.
The rest of the disaster curses were gone, dead, and in the end, what had they achieved? What great works had the supposed true humanity left behind as they died? His eyes went searching. A destroyed city that would be rebuilt in days, that was all. While the people they looked upon as fake humanity, even with their short lifespans, would leave behind towering edifices that would outlast them for centuries to come.
The solidified essence of his being began to take another form. He was still who he was; that could never be changed. A curse born of human hatred and suffering was a leopard that could never change its spots, yet that does not mean some aspect of it could not change. Mahito had gone through his life so far with no true goals, with no true desires other than the impulsive need to hurt others and cause despair, but now he had been forced to grow. He looked down on his hands, at their newfound solidity, and his spiking cursed energy, and he nodded to himself.
He was not going to be rendered completely irrelevant with a simple death like the rest of the disaster curses. He came to the conclusion. He was going to be different. He was going to take part in something, leave a mark on this world that centuries from today, this world would never forget.
A clap rang out from behind him. A continuous ringing applause that forced him to turn his attention away from his hands and towards the man that had sneaked up behind him. Long black hair tied in a bun that still spilled across his back like a waterfall. Thin eyes that were built to smile. A scar across the scalp, and a dress that would've made anyone mistake the figure for a monk.
"Kenjaku," Mahito called out, taking only a second to note his voice was different.
"Wonderful, truly wonderful," Kenjaku said in response, as he stopped meters away from him, far enough that Mahito would have to put in effort to make physical contact.
"Where have you been, Kenjaku?"
The strange sorcerer tilted his head to the side before replying. "Over here and there. But that's irrelevant. What is, is you, Mahito." The sorcerer's eyes opened slightly, revealing cold, uncaring black orbs. "You're finally well-cooked. I had thought that would occur as a result of your rivalry with my child, but it seems like I truly underestimated you. Even without pressure, you still became a diamond."
Mahito nodded in understanding. He always knew Kenjaku had other plans, vaguer plans than the simple sealing of Gojo Satoru. He had never really spoken about it with them, but they had all known, yet in the end, it had not mattered, till now that is, now when it was clear that he had some role to play in this greater plan.
Mahito smiled. "You want to eat me."
Kenjaku replied without much thought to lie or guile. It was a simple nod. "That was the original plan," he admitted shamelessly with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. "I've waited centuries for a technique much like yours, and your birth was the best thing to happen in a century."
"The original plan?"
"Yes, let's just say that your growth has changed my mind. You've changed, Mahito. You're like a well-done steak, cooked over firewood instead of in the kitchen. It brings a different flavour to things, you see. Now I'm being pushed by my greatest sin: curiosity, which has left me wondering, what divergent path would you take, Mahito?"
Mahito did not understand, not completely. He had some idea of the ancient sorcerer's rambling. Kenjaku had been preparing him, using Itadori Yuji to fuel his growth, a growth that ensured his cursed technique grew stronger and evolved, with the end goal of eating him up and having access to his technique, yet that had changed because for some reason he had grown on his own. Yet, something about everything rang false in his ears.
He tilted his head to match the body-hopping sorcerer. "Is that truly all there is to it, Kenjaku?"
Kenjaku froze, then giggled like a child before nodding. "Fine. It seems some maturity came along with this new growth. I'm changing plans because things have changed," Kenjaku started. "I had not planned for the shikigami the Zenin brat summoned. I knew about him, of course, yet I had not anticipated just how interesting he would be, interesting enough to stalemate Sukuna for so long and win, underhanded and with the aid of others, like it was, against a weaker Sukuna who grew distracted at the critical moment. Yet win it has, and that changes things."
"Is that truly it, or are you scared?" Mahito questioned as he took a single step forward, closing the distance between him and the body-hopping sorcerer. "Are you scared that if you fight me squarely, you'll lose, Kenjaku?"
Kenjaku froze for the second time, and this time when he opened his eyes, they opened in full, and he stared down at Mahito once more, but there was something different in his gaze. He was looking at him the same way Mahoraga and Sukuna had looked at him. Insignificant. The air went tense as the mood changed.
"Don't let your rapid growth get over your head, Mahito. I have not lived through multiple centuries refining cursed energy and the techniques in my arsenal to lose to a curse that is barely a few months old. Your technique is useless against someone that is aware of the outline of their soul and knows to guard and reinforce it. My domain is more refined than you could ever hope to comprehend. In a clash, I would end you faster than you can imagine. Do not make the mistake of thinking we are equals in any way. I can crush you and take your technique like taking candy from a baby."
The tension disappeared a second later as Kenjaku changed. His tight posture relaxed, his wide eyes closed, and once more he had a jovial smile on his face as he continued speaking, "Or we can just work together and see what this new world I want to bring about has in store. What do you think, Mahito?"
Mahito let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. Then he nodded his head warily in understanding. "What now?"
Kenjaku's smile widened. "Now, I need to make use of your Idle Transfiguration. With my output and certain restrictions, such as targeting certain people as opposed to everyone, I can make a nationwide Idle Transfiguration, but I need to do that without absorbing you, which makes it tricky. But like all things, sorcery makes a way."
"A binding vow," Mahito said in realization, and Kenjaku nodded in agreement.
"A binding vow that gives me the scale, as well as perfect compliance without giving you the option to simply opt out. So here is my offer, Mahito. You agree to allow me to manipulate your technique through you, as well as become the backup living battery and core of the Culling Games ritual, and in return, I don't eat you. You don't get absorbed by me; instead, you willingly bind your existence to the ritual. In essence, you trade your freedom for purpose."
Mahito thought it over for long seconds. There was silence around them. It had been silent for long minutes, even before the arrival of Kenjaku, which meant the fight was over. Sukuna and Mahoraga's fight had resulted in a victor: Mahoraga. The end of the fight brought a calm to the storm that had been the city, giving Mahito the space and time to think, and he came to a conclusion.
The binding vow fit him. He had come to an understanding that at the end of the day, he was a curse, one who was born of humanity's hatred and fear. Yet he had grown, and in that growth had realized he wanted something more, something significant. This was the sum total of it. A chance to exhibit his malice by hurting sorcerers, and a way to do it by being the focal point for a sorcery that transcends any other. A sorcery that would birth and fuel the most agony, pain, and blood that Japan, and possibly the world, has seen in a few decades. A way to ensure he is never forgotten like the rest of the disaster curses. And it made sure he was always a threat. He was going to live, and his inability to hurt Kenjaku only encompassed the binding vow's duration.
Mahito grinned at Kenjaku, and even without words, the snake like sorcerer already knew the decision he had made, so he smiled in response. Mahito immediately felt it, as the binding vow, which had been taking form with Kenjaku's words, finally began to settle, and together they stretched forth their hands in a shake. Mahito's hands gripped Kenjaku for the first time, and they said it together.
Curse Technique: Idle Transfiguration.
"Let the Culling Games begin," Kenjaku said with a laugh.
Nanami woke up to the sound of beeping. He blinked tired eyes, then froze in realization. No, not tired eyes. He blinked a tired eye. A single tired eye that looked up at the ceiling with little emotion.
He was alive.
That should've been impossible. He was in no way suicidal, but he still remembered the severity of his injuries. He had survived Dagon's domain from a number of factors, such as his naturally strong physique and the fact that the special grade cursed spirit had been forced to split its attention between him and two others. Yet he had survived regardless. Badly injured, but whole.
Then the strange man who killed Dagon whisked Megumi away, and they were ambushed seconds later by the second special grade curse spirit, and the next thing Nanami remembered was pain. The pain of his blood boiling beneath his flesh. The pain of skin charring and muscles melting. The pain of nerves being exposed to fire and kissed by ash. The pain of an eye imploding within his skull as the squishy bulbous organ was introduced to fire.
Pain he did not want to remember, but he was a Grade One sorcerer. A veteran one for that matter. He could not let such pain stop or define him. He stretched his hands out and noted his left was immobile. Maybe missing, he wondered to himself. His right had no such problems. It grabbed onto the side of his bed and pulled him up.
He sat up straight and finally had the chance to look at himself. His left hand was still there, although it was heavily wrapped with bandages, alongside most of his chest and abdomen. His free and mobile hand reached up to his face and noted it was just as tightly bound. He turned his head to the side and observed his surroundings.
He was on a nondescript hospital bed, with white sheets and linens. On all four sides were curtains that covered him, while a light above showed him clearly. How did he get to a hospital, of all places?
His memories after the cursed spirit's ambush were a blur. He vaguely remembered waking up feeling like a nuclear bomb had gone off beside him, then in his pain-addled state, he had walked. One step after another, killing every transfigured human or curse he found. His desire to protect his students and the people overriding his desire to just lie back and die. What happened next?
A brief, sharp pain lanced through his brain, forcing him to hunch over and hiss in annoyance.
Ah, yes. He remembered what did. The monster that saved him.
He barely picked it up, the sound of footsteps. Judging by what he could hear, the person was already close. A hand stretched past the curtain and pulled it aside, revealing the kimono covered form of a man he knew and disliked on principle.
"Nanami-san, I'm glad to see you're up."
Nanami looked up at Usami without a word of reply, leaving his lips. He looked behind the man and realized there were two others he had not heard coming. He blamed his injuries for his drop in perception. Regardless, the two other people were more familiar.
Shoko pushed past the man and moved to stand beside him immediately, and began fussing over him, her eyes dark, her hair scattered, and an unlit cigarette between her lips.
"You woke up earlier than I expected, considering the depth of your injuries," she started, as she rested a hand on the side of his head. "But you always had more resilience than any other sorcerer I know. Maybe it's why, other than Gojo, you're the only other one from our set alive."
There was a refreshing feeling as he felt her reverse curse technique go to work. Her words immediately reminded him of their objective before they had been waylaid by Dagon.
"G-go-jo?" he managed to croak out, but either his vocal cords had been messed up, or he had been out for longer than he thought.
"Here." The third figure spoke up as she slipped past the still quiet man, who had decided to simply observe them with those cold snake eyes of his.
Utahime lifted a jug and a cup from a table somewhere out of his line of sight. It took him a second to realize the lack of vision on his left side blinded him to the jug. Then a cup was filled and passed on to him, and he took a gulp, then a second, and before he could take a third, Utahime pulled the cup from his hands, her face twisted into a cute frown that not even the scar across her cheeks could turn menacing.
"Take it easy, Nanami."
"Speaking of Gojo, he is gone," Shoko finally said, answering his question. He turned to her as she eased away from him and sat down on the bedside chair. "His corpse was not recovered, so we can only assume he's alive but still trapped in what our records state is called a prison realm. The strange man-"
"Geto."
The annoyance that remained standing behind them corrected Shoko with an empty placating smile.
"It can't be Geto," Shoko replied with a shake of her head. "Gojo brought his corpse to me, and I confirmed it with my own eyes. Suguru Geto is dead."
"That is not what the recordings show, and what the higher-ups at Jujutsu Headquarters believe."
"I don't give a damn about your recordings or what the higher-ups say."
The man replied with a simple smile and moved to say something else, but was cut off by Nanami's hoarse voice as he finally addressed the elephant in the room.
"W-what are you doing here, Usami?"
The dark-haired man turned back to him, eyes thin slits, hair slicked back, and with a snake-like smile that said all Nanami wanted to know about the man. A man commonly called the hound of the higher-ups.
"Internal Investigations, Nanami-san," Usami started with a calm and soothing tone that spoke of camaraderie, but there was no camaraderie between them. Usami had not earned his grade, title, or skills by hunting cursed spirits like Nanami. He had earned it by strictly hunting rogue curse users and registered jujutsu sorcerers that had defected for one reason or another.
Nanami would've smiled if his face were not so heavily bandaged. After all, Usami's track record of efficiency had been shaken by a single loss. He had been the second person to be sent to capture or kill Geto shortly after he defected, and the other man had barely escaped with his life. It seemed like he held a grudge.
"The incident in Shibuya has been tragic, and following the announcement of the ritual known as the Culling Games, the higher-ups have endeavored to make certain decisions and investigations regarding the major players of the incident."
"What does that have to do with Gojo?" Nanami asked, regaining the strength in his voice slowly.
"Jujutsu Headquarters claims Geto is still alive, and that Gojo is an accomplice of the Shibuya Incident, so Satoru has been officially exiled from the jujutsu world, and any action or plan that involves releasing him from the seal has been declared a criminal act," Utahime said.
Nanami turned to her and waited for her to laugh, to show that it was just a mistake or a joke. Her somber features put that thought to rest. He turned to Shoko and realized, sometime during the speech, the woman had lit her cigarette and was in the midst of taking a drag, so he turned back to Usami and saw he was giving him a smile.
"Of course, that is neither here nor there at the moment. I suppose you're wondering why I'm here, then?"
Nanami simply stared at him, and Usami lost part of his smile but continued speaking with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Tough crowd, but fine. As I stated earlier, Headquarters has instigated an internal investigation, one in which I've been given the burden of leading, so I have a simple question. Tell me everything that happened in Shibuya from your point of view."
Nanami turned to the others, and they simply gave him discreet nods, so he spoke. He told the snake of a man about his dispatch to Shibuya, about hunting down Haruta Shigemo, who had made it his job to kill the managers. Then he spoke about joining up with Naobito Zenin, Maki, and Fushiguro Megumi-
"And how did Fushiguro-san seem at that moment?" Usami cut him off, and Nanami looked down and realized the other man had been jotting his words down in a book.
"Fine?" Nanami half asked, half said in confusion.
Usami nodded his head, then waved him along. Nanami gave the man a look that spoke of what would happen if he was interrupted again before he continued.
He spoke of the strange man who had killed Dagon, then whisked Megumi away shortly after. He spoke of the ambush by the special grade curse spirit immediately after that, and from there, his recollection was a mess. He had walked about, destroying as many curses and transfigured humans as he could, while rescuing the few people that had not managed to evacuate in time and who had remained hidden around the underground station, and then they had stumbled across monsters fighting.
"Ah, ha. Now we get to the meat of the story." Usami broke in, and Nanami gave him a glare in response, forcing the other man to raise his hand in a pleading motion. "Forgive me, Nanami-san, but further questions must be asked. The shikigami identified as the Divine General, the pinnacle of the Ten Shadows technique, an uncontrolled and unshackled creature, was believed to have crossed paths with Sukuna in a fight that rendered a sizable portion of Shibuya a wasteland, and you, Nanami, were one of the few people to witness that fight and survive. The regular humans' words could hardly be taken for it. So my questions are, how was the fight? What did the shikigami do? What was its role in the structural damage, and how did it act in general?"
Nanami stayed quiet for a second. His mind was slow, slower than it usually used to be, but he was not stupid. It had taken him a few minutes longer than usual, but he immediately figured out Usami's angle. Why he was forcing an interrogation on a man who had just barely woken up and should have been allowed to rest. Why he had been so curious about Megumi earlier.
Shoko let out a smoke-filled breath, blocking the view of the room for a few seconds, then she tapped the cigarette against the edge of his bed, allowing the ashes to fall, but Nanami had not missed it. The tempo of the tap. Morse code. Something they had taught themselves as teenagers, out of boredom. Something he, Haibara, Geto, Satoru, and Shoko only knew.
'Be careful.'
Usami waved away the smoke with a single hand, his voluminous kimono dispersing the smoke in a second. He gave a half-hearted glare at Shoko, one she replied to with an uncaring shrug and a hand wave for him to go on.
"As I was saying-"
"Mahoraga is the white giant with wings for eyes." Nanami cut the man off, both for a need for clarity and to rankle him, and just as he expected, the man frowned at being cut off but nodded gamely.
"It saved us."
"Are you sure of that, First Grade Sorcerer Kento Nanami? Should I take that as your official word?" Usami said with a stare that told him to retract that statement. The snake had dropped the vague pleasantness. Good. Nanami hated a few things, but that was one of them.
"Yes," Nanami continued. "I remember that part clearly because of how strange and how fast it had happened. The ceiling broke, sending tons of stone and sand down, and Mahoraga and Sukuna had appeared shortly after with another cursed spirit who might have been following us. A curse I had encountered before, alongside Yuji Itadori. Special grade cursed spirit Mahito."
Usami frowned but waved him to continue.
"Sukuna saw us and determined we were a distraction, so he swung his hand, activating what I believe was his cursed technique towards us, but it was invisible. The only person who seemed to see it was Mahoraga. The shikigami stood in the way and deflected the curse technique somehow, an act that broke the path that led to where we were and protected us from the rest of the fight. After that, we retreated."
"Are you certain of the intent behind the act?"
"It turned and looked at me," Nanami replied, his gravelly voice slowly going hoarse once more. "It saved us."
Usami made to speak further when he was cut off for the second time, and this time he did not bother hiding his anger. He glared at Shoko as she spoke over him.
"That's enough, Usami-san. This is as far as your orders and jurisdiction go. We allowed you to be the first person to speak to Nanami so nothing would be hidden, but I can only watch you speak to a man waking up from a multiple day old coma for so long without shoving a cigarette into your eyes."
Cold brown eyes, shadowed by dark circles, stared at Usami's pitch black orbs, and there was a tense standoff for a few seconds before Utahime spoke.
"Of course, you can come back another time and continue, but you can clearly see the toll this is taking on Nanami-san as well."
Usami let out a breath and straightened his robes, and gone was the aggression and anger, and back was the snake smile that never reached his pitch black eyes. He smoothly slipped his book back into his kimono.
"I understand. That would be all for now, Nanami-san. Rest well." With his part said, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving the three of them alone.
"Is this what I'm suspecting?" Nanami let out in a hoarse voice, prompting Utahime to pour him a cup of water once more.
Shoko crushed what was left of her cigarette, picked another from her white coat, and lit it. She took a long and deep drag first before replying to him.
"Yes, it is. With Gojo Satoru gone, the higher-ups and elders over at headquarters are looking for who to blame for most of the problems that have occurred during and after the incident. So far, they're leaning on Megumi and his shikigami because they know he doesn't control it, not completely at least." She took another drag. "However, it's been hard to make anything stick so far, not when multiple testimonies speak to the fact that the shikigami saved multiple people. Then there's Itadori Yuji as well. There's been talk of reinstating his execution order, but that has stalled because of the overwhelming strength that Megumi's shikigami has shown."
Nanami chuckled as he leaned back into his bed. "So they're worried Megumi and the shikigami are turning into another Gojo Satoru, then."
"That was what Satoru was training and preparing them for, wasn't it?" Utahime added with a fond smile as she looked outside the window.
Nanami looked outside as well, past the glass window and into the city that came alive past it, with its honking car noises and skyscrapers. It was not the Malaysian beach he had envisioned as he bled and died while fighting, but it wasn't so bad either way. Sleep called to him, and just as his eyes flickered closed, he remembered he had wanted to ask a question.
What was the Culling Games ritual?