The stale air of the subway was thick with silence. Itadori walked slowly through the dimly lit corridor, hands in his pockets, eyes slightly narrowed. He thought he'd meet Junpei again, maybe to watch another movie, maybe to introduce him to Gojo-sensei or Nobara. Something simple. Something human.
Instead—
Two figures stood at the far end of the tunnel.
Junpei.
And Mahito.
Itadori stopped cold in his tracks. "…It can't be."
Junpei's expression was empty—void of warmth, humor, or pain. Like a mannequin that had learned how to blink.
Mahito, arms folded and smile razor-sharp, leaned toward Junpei's ear and whispered something. Something invisible shifted.
Without a warning, Junpei stepped forward. His hand twisted unnaturally. His body contorted. His cursed energy surged like broken wires in the air.
Itadori raised his voice, frantic. "Junpei! What are you doing?!"
Junpei didn't answer. He launched forward.
They fought—Itadori deflecting each attack, holding back, shouting again and again for Junpei to stop. But Junpei's soul was no longer his. Mahito, like a puppeteer, pulled the strings, amused by the anguish in Itadori's eyes.
"JUNPEI!! SNAP OUT OF IT!! THIS ISN'T YOU!!"
But Mahito was done playing. He waved his hand lazily. Junpei's body jerked. And then—he screamed.
Itadori's heart dropped. The sound of bones twisting. Flesh warping.
And just like that, Junpei's body split open. A horrid mass of cursed deformation swallowed him whole.
Itadori watched it all—unable to reach in time.
The cursed energy shattered into nothing. Junpei collapsed.
Dead.
The boy who wanted to be strong.
Gone.
Silence held for a beat too long.
Then—it broke.
Itadori's fists clenched so tightly, blood pooled between his fingers. His head was bowed. Shoulders shaking.
When he finally looked up—his eyes were blank. Hollow. Cold.
Not with grief. Not with shock.
But with rage.
"…You," Itadori said, voice barely human. "I'm sending you to hell."
From deep inside, Sukuna stirred with a grin.
"Damn… the brat's got anger as well."