The final phase of the collection had begun.
Across Japan, in locations as varied as the nation itself, Kamo Itsuki's Finger Recovery Squads moved with silent precision. Each team of two, masked and robed, followed the invisible guidance of the Yin-Yang Butterflies toward their targets.
Shimonoseki City Coast
The sea wind howled. Waves crashed against rocky shores with relentless fury.
Two figures stood at the water's edge, their crimson hair whipping wildly in the gale. Black robes with white trim—the unmistakable attire of the Kamo Clan—snapped and fluttered around them. One wore a lifelike shark mask; the other, an octopus.
The Yin-Yang Butterfly's signal was clear: deep beneath the waves, in the crushing darkness, a Sukuna finger waited.
Without hesitation, they leaped.
The sea swallowed them whole. Pressure mounted with every meter descended, the world outside fading to an endless, lightless abyss. Only occasional bioluminescent fish provided fleeting glimpses of the deep.
A massive shadow lunged from the darkness—a deep-sea monstrosity, all teeth and hunger. It came fast, stirring violent currents.
It died faster. The two puppets moved in perfect sync, their attacks precise and lethal. The creature's body drifted away, forgotten.
They continued downward, toward a treacherous trench. Undercurrents tugged and pulled, dangerous even for beings of their caliber. But they persisted, navigating the natural fury until they reached the bottom.
There, nestled in a crevice of a massive rock, surrounded by seaweed and coral—the finger.
Secured.
Aomori City Forest
Ancient trees towered toward a hidden sky. Thorns formed nearly impenetrable walls. Mist coiled through the undergrowth like a living thing, turning the forest into a labyrinth.
Wolf-mask and Tiger-mask pushed forward,a battle against nature itself.
Wild boars charged. They were dispatched.
Venomous snakes struck from hiding. Their fangs found only empty air.
Poisonous insects swarmed. They were scattered.
Finally, high in the branches of an ancient cedar, they found their prize.
A bird's nest. And within, woven into the structure as nesting material—a withered, gnarled finger.
Secured.
Sakurajima, Kagoshima
Heat shimmered in waves. Smoke billowed from the active volcano. The air itself seemed to burn.
Lion-mask and Eagle-mask climbed steadily, each step bringing them closer to the crater's edge. The ground radiated heat intense enough to melt ordinary shoe soles. Breathing was laborious, each inhalation like drawing fire into the lungs.
Inside the crater, chaos reigned.
Lava erupted intermittently, spewing molten rock and thick smoke. The ground trembled. A massive crack split open beneath them, and lava surged upward like a living thing.
They leaped—barely avoiding incineration. Sparks rained down, burning through their robes, leaving charred holes. But they pressed on.
And there, floating in the molten rock itself, untouched by temperatures that would vaporize steel—the finger.
Secured.
Mount Zao, Miyagi
A world of white. Freezing wind cut like knives. Snow piled deep, making every step a struggle.
Polar Bear-mask and Snow Leopard-mask pushed through the blizzard, breath freezing instantly, eyebrows and eyelashes coated in ice crystals. The cold was absolute, relentless.
Deep within an ice cave, they found it: a finger frozen solid within a layer of ancient ice, preserved for centuries in nature's coldest prison.
Secured.
The remaining three fingers offered less dramatic recoveries.
One sat in a wealthy collector's vault—impregnable to ordinary thieves, laughably easy for Kamo's puppets. They walked in, took it, walked out. The vault's security systems never even registered their presence.
One moldered in an abandoned temple, guarded by a handful of pathetic Cursed Spirits that were dispatched before they could register the intruders' presence.
And one—
But that one's story would wait.
By nightfall, ten squads had reported success. Ten fingers, secured. Ten fragments of the King of Curses, now resting within Kamo Itsuki's Blood Prison.
Twenty total. All accounted for.
The collection was complete.
"Huh? Who are you to show up at my door with such an attitude? Get lost!"
Gojo Satoru's patience lasted approximately two seconds. The moment the ox-mask and horse-mask puppets delivered their stiff ultimatum, he raised a hand almost lazily.
Cursed Technique Reversal: Red. *
A sphere of crimson destruction erupted, catching both puppets in a wave of pure repulsive force. They shot backward like cannonballs, disappearing over the horizon in an instant.
Gojo watched them go, then snorted. "Ox-head and horse-face showing up at my door late at night? That's just bad luck."
He hadn't killed them—just launched them. Physically speaking.
One hundred li away, the ox-mask and horse-mask puppets finally managed to arrest their flight. They tumbled through the air, crashed through a small grove of trees, and came to rest in a freshly plowed field.
Ox-mask sat up, checking his limbs. "We're... intact?"
Horse-mask did the same. "Remarkably so. He held back significantly."
"That was Gojo Satoru, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"Perhaps we should have identified ourselves before making demands?"
"...Yes. That might have helped."
Another pause.
"Should we go back?"
"We have to. The master's orders are absolute."
They rose, dusted themselves off, and began the long walk back.
"If he blasts us again, we return to the master for instructions."
"Agreed."
Gojo's phone rang. He answered with a lazy drawl.
"Satoru? What's up?" Kamo Itsuki's voice came through.
"What's up? You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Gojo complained. "Sending ox-head and horse-face to my door demanding Sukuna's finger? Of all the imagery..."
"You have a Sukuna finger?" Kamo's tone sharpened with interest.
"Yeah, picked one up a while back. Meant to mention it."
"Then why didn't you give it to me? I've been searching everywhere."
Gojo shrugged, though Kamo couldn't see it. "Didn't seem urgent. One finger, right? What difference does it make?"
"It makes enough difference that you should hand it over to my people."
"Ah... about that." Gojo's voice took on a slightly sheepish quality. "I may have... blasted them away with Red."
A pause.
"But I went easy! They're fine. Probably."
Kamo's sigh was audible even through the phone. "You did that on purpose."
"They should come back if they failed, right? Tell you what—if they show up again, I'll hand it over. Or you can come get it yourself."
"I'm busy," Gojo added quickly, settling deeper into his sofa. "Just send your creepy puppet duo back. I'll behave this time."
Kamo's voice held a note of long-suffering patience. "Fine. They're on their way back to you. Give them the finger."
"Will do. Later!"
Gojo hung up and stared at the ceiling, a small smile playing on his lips.
'Collecting all twenty fingers, huh? What are you planning, Itsuki?'
He didn't know. But he trusted Kamo enough to help—even if helping meant letting himself be mildly inconvenienced by ox-head and horse-face.
The doorbell rang.
Gojo sighed. "Coming, coming..."