"Nero, ever heard of the Hero Association?"
Megumi Fushiguro's eyes snapped open, Nobara Kugisaki held her breath, and even Artoria's gaze shifted from her ramen, locking onto Satoru Gojo.
Gojo's usual carefree grin faded, his posture leaning forward, his tone carrying a rare hint of seriousness.
"Outside of Japan, there's this peculiar island. Technically, it used to be ours, but now… let's just call it a highly autonomous 'independent zone.' And that place? It's seriously weird."
Gaio didn't speak, just tilted his chin slightly, signaling Gojo to continue.
"Here, cursed spirits are born from human negative emotions. Cursed energy fuels them, makes them stronger, and they're a pain to deal with."
Gojo's voice was steady, deliberate. "But on that island, the rules are different. Negative emotions, twisted impulses, whatever—it doesn't just 'spawn' cursed spirits like some kind of mental energy blob."
The principal's office was so quiet you could hear everyone breathing.
"On that island," Gojo's voice dropped lower, "negative energy directly affects physical things. People, animals… anything."
Gaio stayed silent, waiting for more.
Gojo took a breath and went on. "Intense despair, hatred, warped obsessions… even some bizarre fixation can act as a trigger. Once it hits, people transform on the spot into what they call 'monsters.' The change is totally unpredictable, impossible to guard against."
He paused, his tone growing heavier. "What's weirder is that it's not just humans. The island's land, rivers, forests, animals… even a dead tree branch on the roadside could suddenly come alive, go berserk, and turn into an aggressive, destructive monster due to some unknown trigger or accumulated 'filth.'"
Gaio listened, piecing together the Hero Association and Marin's earlier mention of "superheroes."
He was pretty sure he knew which anime this island came from.
One Punch Man.
Gojo's eyes sharpened as he described the monsters' terror. "These monsters start off as strong as regular cursed spirits. The powerful ones? They can wipe out a city in seconds, easily matching our special-grade cursed spirits—maybe even surpassing them."
"But," he added, "those emotions don't just fuel monsters. They can empower regular people too."
"That's where the Hero Association comes in," Gojo said, spreading his hands. "These so-called heroes are ranked in tiers, like our special-grade or first-grade sorcerers. But they've got more ranks because, in that environment, everyone's abilities are unique. Most of these 'heroes' are just slightly tougher normals."
Gaio nodded, getting the picture. "So, what do you need me for?"
Gojo pulled a black invitation with gold trim from his jacket and flicked it toward Gaio. The card arced through the air, landing neatly in his hand.
Snap. Gaio opened it. Blood-red text gleamed on the pitch-black card:
[The Apocalypse Looms]
[The Hero Association cordially invites the heroes of the jujutsu world to face this crisis together]
Below was a contact number, stamped with the Hero Association's seal.
Gaio snapped the invitation shut and looked at Gojo, who had slipped back into his lazy demeanor, hands behind his head, legs crossed.
"After our last fight, I figured out a lot," Gojo said, tilting his head. "Back in the day, I'd have gone alone. But now…" He shrugged. "I hear some of those monsters are as tough as Sukuna."
Gaio tossed the invitation back onto the coffee table. "You want me to come with?"
"Smart guy." Gojo grinned. "With you there, I'll feel a lot better."
Artoria spoke up suddenly. "Master, should I come along?"
Gaio shook his head. "Your physical form isn't fully stabilized yet. Stay here and look after things."
He turned to Gojo. "When do we leave?"
"This afternoon," Gojo said, standing. "That island's so dangerous it's not just independent—it barely lets outsiders in. The Association's sending a private jet just for us."
He leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. "From what I know, the Association has some seriously strong heroes."
He held up a finger. "Especially their top dog—Blast. They say he's dozens of times stronger than Sukuna."
A glint flashed in Gaio's eyes, but it wasn't Blast who caught his interest. It was that deadpan, fish-eyed bald guy—Saitama. The one who could end any fight with a single punch.
Gojo mistook his reaction for excitement, flashing a smug grin.
Finally, he'd piqued the interest of the guy who always complained about things being "boring" or "entertain me."
"I'll be there on time," Gaio said, standing. His Enma Blade materialized in his hand.
With a casual swing, a blue spatial rift tore open in the office.
Gojo raised his arms in excitement. "Awesome!" he cheered, like a kid with a new toy.
Gaio stepped into the portal without looking back, the blue light swallowing him instantly. The office fell silent, save for Gojo's exaggerated laughter echoing.
"Hey, did you guys see that?" Gojo spun toward his students. "He actually agreed!"
Megumi's face stayed blank. "Sensei, that Blast you mentioned…"
"Oh, him?" Gojo waved it off. "Yeah, he's strong, but…" His grin turned cocky. "I'm stronger."
---
On the other side of the portal, Gaio stood under a cherry blossom tree in his courtyard, a breeze rustling through.
"Master?" Artoria poked her head out from the corridor.
"What's up?" Gaio glanced over.
Artoria frowned slightly. "Is that place dangerous?"
"For others, maybe," Gaio said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "For me…" He looked into the distance, a spark of unprecedented interest in his eyes. "I might just meet someone interesting."
Artoria froze.
The breeze stirred her golden bangs, her emerald eyes catching a look in Gaio she'd never seen—not the commanding confidence when he shattered Ea in Fuyuki, nor the detached indifference when he obliterated the leyline.
This was genuine excitement burning deep in his eyes.
(Master… showing an expression like that?) Her scabbard trembled faintly within her.
That island was probably far more dangerous than Gojo let on.
"Saber," Gaio's voice broke the silence, "where's that outfit Marin had custom-made for me?"
Artoria snapped to attention. "Oh!" She turned to lead the way. "This way, Master. Miss Marin cleared out the closet at the end of the hall for it."
Her steps regained their knightly precision, but a lingering weight stayed in her chest.
What kind of place could spark such anticipation in her Master?
---
2:00 PM, Jujutsu Tech training field.
A sleek, futuristic hovercraft crushed the grass as it landed smoothly.
The rear hatch hissed open, and several burly men in black suits poured out, lining up on either side. Last to emerge was a one-eyed man with black hair, dressed in a crisp suit, his expression cold as ice—Zekinger, a Hero Association executive.
Nearby, Gojo lounged with his hands behind his head, flanked by Yuta Okkotsu, Maki Zenin, Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, and Atsuya Kusakabe. Jujutsu Tech had sent only their elite.
Zekinger approached Gojo, bowing slightly. "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Gojo."
Gojo waved it off casually. "No biggie."
Zekinger gestured toward the jet. "Shall we depart now?"
Gojo glanced at the sky, pouting. "Hang on a sec."
Zekinger's single eye flickered with confusion.
Just then, the swirling dust and grass kicked up by the hovercraft settled.
A figure appeared at the edge of the field, strolling forward.
Gaio walked with calm confidence, as if the messy training ground were a red carpet.
His long black trench coat reached his calves, unmoved by the turbine's gusts, only the hem rippling faintly.
The high collar hugged his neck, exuding sharp precision.
The coat's open front revealed a fitted navy tactical vest, its clean lines accentuating his lean, powerful frame.
Crisp black pants tucked into knee-high polished boots, each step on the grass sounding steady and measured.
Gaio's gaze didn't waver as he approached. When he passed Gojo, who was waving enthusiastically and shouting, "Nero-kun!! Over here, over here!" Gaio didn't so much as glance his way, his steps never faltering as he brushed past.
He headed straight for the open hatch, the coat's hem slicing a sharp blue arc as he climbed the ramp, vanishing into the dim cabin light.
Zekinger's lone eye narrowed.
The sunlight on that man's coat seemed to lose its warmth, swallowed by an icy presence.
Zekinger couldn't even catch his face, only a fleeting, emotionless profile.
A primal sense of danger exploded within him, far stronger than any dragon-level monster he'd faced.
This man… was terrifyingly powerful. The air seemed to freeze just from his passing.
Gojo's exaggerated waving arm froze mid-air, but his grin only widened, brimming with "I knew he'd be like this" smugness.
"Haha, still so cool! Let's go, let's go!" Unfazed, he motioned to his students and Kusakabe, bounding up the ramp with a spring in his step.
Yuta and the others followed quickly, filing in.
Zekinger took a deep breath, suppressing the unease in his chest, and gestured for Kusakabe to board before stepping onto the jet himself.
The massive hatch closed with a heavy hydraulic hiss—clank, sealing shut.
Inside, the cabin was softly lit. Gaio sat by a window, legs crossed, elbow on the armrest, fingers propping his chin.
He gazed out at the shrinking Jujutsu Tech field, the high collar framing his sharp, sculpted profile.
Gojo plopped into the seat across from him, leaning forward, arms on his knees, his face alight with barely contained excitement, eyes practically glowing under his blindfold. "So, Nero-kun, feeling it yet? There's gotta be someone over there who'll get your blood pumping!"
Gaio didn't turn, the scenery outside blurring as the jet ascended.
Deep in his eyes, a faint spark of interest rippled, like a pebble dropped into a still pond.