The sun dipped behind the misty ridgelines as Suguru Geto stepped out of the black government van and entered the outskirts of the mountain village. The call had come from an old region northeast of Kyoto—remote, steeped in superstition, and untouched by time.
The wind was quiet.
Children's voices echoed faintly in the distance.
But something felt wrong.
His footsteps were slow and deliberate as he walked past rows of old wooden houses. Then he saw it—hidden behind the temple at the heart of the village: a rusted, locked cage. Two small girls were huddled inside, clothed in rags, bodies bruised and faces swollen.
Geto's eyes widened.
He approached, crouched low, and with a soft voice asked,
"Hey... what are you doing in there?"
The girls flinched at first. Then, realizing he wasn't one of the villagers, they crawled forward, clutching the bars.
"W-We didn't do anything…" one of them whimpered.
"They said we had curses inside us," said the other, her voice trembling. "That we were dangerous... like demons."
Tears mixed with dried blood on their cheeks.
Geto said nothing. He reached forward, and with a sharp twist of his fingers, the lock shattered. The cage creaked open. The two girls leapt into his arms, sobbing.
He wrapped them gently in his long sleeves and stood in silence, eyes lost in thought.
A moment passed.
Then, as the night fell, the village burned.
Screams echoed across the ridges.
Curses swirled like smoke between wooden homes, and by dawn, 112 villagers were dead.
Men. Women. Elders. Even children.
Geto stood atop the shrine, blood-splattered, cradling the two sleeping girls against his chest. His expression was calm, unreadable.
Elsewhere…
Principal Yaga sat in his office at Jujutsu High, face pale, hands trembling over a sheet of freshly delivered intelligence.
Satoru Gojo entered casually, his blindfold halfway raised as he munched on some pocky sticks.
"Yo, what's up, Yaga-sensei?"
Yaga looked up, eyes somber.
"Gojo. Sit down."
Gojo paused. "…What's going on?"
Yaga passed him the file.
As Gojo flipped through the photos—massacre reports, corpse counts, fire damage—his casual smirk disappeared. He reached the final page: satellite footage of Geto walking out of the forest with the two girls.
"This… this isn't real."
Yaga's voice was low.
"I'm afraid it is."
Gojo stood still.
His hand trembled just slightly.
"…Suguru…"
His voice cracked.