Hearing Kenjaku's command, Uraume instantly disengaged from the fierce exchange with Yuki Tsukumo.
"Cursed Technique: Falling Glazier!"
Uraume slammed both palms onto the pavement. Jagged pillars of ice erupted from the earth like a crystalline forest, rising tall and jagged to mask their retreat.
"Wind's Breath!"
Yuta Okkotsu swung Dojigiri Yasutsuna in a wide, sweeping arc. A gale-force slash shattered the frozen labyrinth into a million shimmering shards. But as the ice settled, the space was empty. Kenjaku and Uraume had vanished into the night.
A Hidden Underground Vault
Kenjaku and Uraume materialized in the damp, lightless space. Mahito was already there, leaning against a concrete pillar and whistling a dissonant tune.
"Oh? Is it over?" Mahito licked his lips, his mismatched eyes gleaming with lingering excitement.
Kenjaku nodded grimly. "It is. The Breaking Vajras I gave Jogo and Hanami have shattered. Those three monsters will be back in Tokyo any minute."
The thought sent a pang of genuine annoyance through Kenjaku. Those ritual tools had taken centuries to craft; even he had been loath to use them.
Three hundred years ago, a Six Eyes user named Satoru Gojo's predecessor—the one who died alongside the Ten Shadows user—had crossed paths with Kenjaku. That era's Six Eyes had been an absolute nightmare. After nearly losing his life, Kenjaku had obsessed over creating a contingency: a tool that could stall the Six Eyes long enough to grant him an escape.
The result was the Breaking Vajra. It was a single-use artifact capable of warping space for exactly one second. For anyone else, a second was a heartbeat; against a Gojo, it was a lifetime. And in three centuries, he had only managed to forge three.
Now, all three were gone.
"Sigh... No matter. The resurrection of Sukuna is the only metric that counts." Kenjaku checked his priorities. A few tools were a small price to pay for the activation of the Cursed Womb: Daiten.
Cough... cough...
A ragged coughing echoed from the shadows of the sewer tunnel. Jogo emerged, limping heavily. He was a mess of bruises and singed flesh, looking as though he had been put through a high-pressure meat grinder. He didn't even have the cursed energy left to trigger his regeneration.
"My, my. You look quite pathetic," Kenjaku mused, stepping forward with his usual insincere smile. "Don't tell me you ignored my advice and tried to trade blows with Suguru Geto?"
"..."
Jogo remained silent, his single eye darting away in guilt. Before the mission, Kenjaku had practically begged him to stick to hit-and-run tactics. But the moment he stood before Geto, Jogo's pride had demanded a showdown.
"A-le-le? I told you not to be impulsive. You simply cannot beat those three monsters in—"
"SHUT UP!" Jogo roared, his head venting a pathetic puff of smoke. He slumped against a wall, brooding over his defeat.
"I... have... returned..."
A weak, stuttering telepathic pulse echoed through their minds. Everyone turned toward the entrance, and even Mahito let out a sharp intake of breath.
If Jogo looked battered, Hanami looked like a casualty of war. Half of her upper torso was simply missing, cauterized into charcoal. The two majestic branches on her head were gone, replaced by two weeping, jagged holes that leaked thick, dark fluid.
"Hanami!"
Jogo and Mahito rushed to support her. Looking at the horrific wounds, Jogo's eye turned blood-red with a murderous intensity. "That bastard Satoru Gojo! One day, I will peel the skin from his bones!"
Kenjaku ignored Jogo's hollow declaration. His mind was elsewhere, counting the minutes. He was waiting for Dagon.
He felt a cold weight in his chest. He had marked the three Vajras; Jogo's and Hanami's had functioned perfectly. But Dagon's... the spatial feedback suggested it had been breached in less than a second.
That meant Souma Gojo had broken through the spatial distortion before the teleportation could even finish.
Three hours passed in agonizing silence. Dagon never appeared.
"Dagon is dead."
Kenjaku's voice was cold and flat, cutting through the stagnant air of the sewer like a guillotine.
The words were a spark in a powder keg. Jogo's fury erupted instantly.
BOOM!
Jogo lunged, a flaming fist slamming into Kenjaku's defensive stance. Kenjaku slid backward, his heels carving deep grooves into the stone floor.
"Kenjaku! You bastard, what kind of joke is this? I'll turn you into a pile of ash!"
Kenjaku shrugged calmly. "Accept reality. If he hasn't returned by now, Dagon is gone. Souma Gojo does not leave loose ends."
"You liar! You said the Breaking Vajra could stop the Six Eyes!" Jogo grabbed Kenjaku by the collar, his face inches from the man's. "If Dagon is dead, you're going to join him!"
Kenjaku slowly raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "Can you really blame me? You and Hanami are living proof the tools worked. If Dagon fell, the variable wasn't the tool—it was the monster he was fighting."
"You..."
Jogo snarled, shoving Kenjaku away with a look of pure loathing. He turned to leave.
"Where are you going?"
"To kill Souma Gojo!" Jogo's body was radiating so much heat that the air around him began to shimmer and distort.
"Don't be a fool! Stop him!"
Mahito and the half-dead Hanami grabbed Jogo, pinning the volcanic curse to the floor. Jogo struggled for a moment, his face contorted with grief and rage, before finally going limp.
"Hanami... Mahito... hold me down," Jogo whispered, his voice trembling. "If you don't... I won't be able to stop myself from committing suicide against that man."
Kenjaku stepped forward, adjusting his robes. "Action driven by rage is merely a path to the grave. Rest easy, Jogo. We will have our revenge for Dagon—but not tonight."
He turned toward a large glass vat containing the Cursed Womb: Daiten. His eyes gleamed with a fanatical light.
"This operation turned half of Tokyo into a slaughterhouse. We have harvested enough negative energy. It is time to breathe life back into the Womb."
Over the next several hours, Kenjaku carved thousands of intricate, ancient seals around the vat. He triggered the ritual, and suddenly, the array acted like a massive black hole for the city's lingering terror. Cursed energy from miles around funneled into the chamber, refined into a pure, obsidian-dark essence that was pumped into the Womb.
A day and a night passed. Finally, the Womb changed.
Black, jagged markings began to crawl across the surface of the fetal form, coalescing into the iconic tattoos of Sukuna. A feeling of absolute evil and crushing power began to radiate from the vat, making even the disaster curses feel a primal urge to flee.
Jogo swallowed hard. "Is that... Ryomen Sukuna?"
"Not yet," Kenjaku whispered. "It needs time to gestate into a perfect vessel. But while we wait, there is one more thing we must do."
Uraume stepped forward. "What is it?"
Kenjaku's expression turned as dark as the water in the sewers. "Souma Gojo's strength has exceeded my wildest projections. He is an anomaly even among the Six Eyes."
"We only have thirteen of Sukuna's fingers. Even if we summon him now, I fear he may not be a match for Souma in his current state."
"You dare doubt the King?" Uraume's voice was like a blizzard. "Even with thirteen fingers, Lord Sukuna is beyond your comprehension!"
"Perhaps," Kenjaku smiled thinly. "But why take the risk? Sukuna himself would want his full strength. And a cautious plan is a successful one."
Uraume huffed but didn't argue further.
"So," Kenjaku continued, "our next move is simple: we break into Jujutsu High and steal the remaining fingers."
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