The winds in the courtyard stilled.
Suguru Geto had almost reached the gate—his footsteps calm, his back turned—as if he knew no one would dare strike.
But then—
"Stop."
The voice wasn't loud. It didn't echo. But it cut cleanly through the morning air, sharp as tempered steel.
Geto halted.
Behind him, Yuta Okkotsu stood with his hand on the hilt of his katana, the cursed blade slowly sliding from its sheath.
"I've heard enough."
Geto turned, only slightly. "Are you sure this is what you want, Yuta? Violence? Here?"
Yuta's gaze was cold, unwavering.
"You insulted my friends. You mocked their strength. You want to use Rika for your twisted plans. This isn't a conversation anymore."
A faint distortion swirled in the air around Yuta.
His cursed energy flared—dense, alive, angry.
"Rika," he said gently.
Her monstrous form emerged behind him—taller than trees, teeth gnashing in anticipation.
From the shadows, the others began to arrive—Maki, Panda, and Inumaki—drawn by the surge of cursed power.
"Geto…" Maki whispered, eyes wide.
But Yuta didn't look at anyone but his enemy.
Geto sighed. "You truly are becoming troublesome."
He slowly raised his right hand, and like a crack across space, cursed spirits peeled into existence around him. Dozens. Twisting, writhing, whispering madness in the wind.
"I didn't want to break you," he said, "but perhaps pain is the only language left."
Yuta moved first.
His katana slashed through the air, cursed energy bursting in a focused wave. Rika surged behind him, screaming in fury.
Geto leapt back, flinging three cursed spirits forward like projectiles. They lunged toward Yuta—but he didn't even flinch.
CLANG—CRACK—SLASH!
Yuta cleaved them mid-air, cutting through the spirits as if they were paper. His power had become more refined—controlled rage.
"You're not taking her," he said.
Geto's eyes narrowed. "Then I'll take you both."
He weaved his hands through a flurry of signs, then released a barrage of talismanic curses—binding threads and razored shadows darted toward Yuta.
But Rika roared, her translucent arm sweeping wide—shattering the curses on impact.
Yuta lunged forward—his katana glowing—clashing directly with Geto.
Steel met spirit.
The courtyard exploded with cursed backlash. Tiles shattered beneath their feet. Trees cracked and bent under the pressure of their battle.
Maki shouted, "YUTA—!"
But no one could reach him now. Not even Gojo.
This was a clash of will.
And Yuta—once timid, once lost—was now a blade drawn for his friends.
"GETO!!"
He roared, swinging his katana with everything he had.
But Geto vanished mid-strike—retreating with a shroud of cursed mist, his expression unreadable.
From afar, his voice echoed:
"You've grown stronger, Yuta. But strength… without resolve… will break you."
And then he was gone.
Yuta stood, panting, his katana smoking with cursed energy.
Rika hovered behind him—silent, watching.
The others approached slowly, the air still tense.
Panda placed a hand on Yuta's shoulder.
"You okay?"
Yuta didn't answer right away.
He looked down at the cursed blade in his hands, then toward the gate where Geto had vanished.
"No," he said quietly.
"But I will be."