Tokyo.
With the return of the "Strongest Trio," the chaos that had paralyzed the capital officially sputtered to a halt. However, the victory was merely the prologue to a bureaucratic nightmare. The cleanup—the delicate dance between the Big Three Clans and government agencies—required a steady, authoritative hand.
Souma Gojo, the Head of the Gojo Clan, barely had time to feel the warmth of his seat before he was whisked away to manage the fallout. His schedule was a relentless barrage of summits and paperwork.
Souma believed in a simple philosophy: if the elder brother is drowning in work, the younger brother shouldn't be enjoying a poolside cocktail. Thus, through a persuasive mixture of logic and physical intimidation, Satoru Gojo was dragged along as "extra labor."
The various combat divisions were not disbanded. Instead, they were transitioned into disaster relief. In the wake of such carnage, negative emotions fermented like rot, causing the population of local cursed spirits to surge.
Across Japan, emergency pleas flooded the clans. In every region where Jogo, Hanami, and Dagon had left their footprints, the emotional fallout was off the charts. Grade 2 spirits were as common as stray dogs; Grade 1s patrolled the streets, and Special Grades were no longer a rarity.
"We have to send the Special Grades to suppress them," Souma muttered, spreading his maps across a desk. He and Satoru were pinned to Tokyo.
"Dispatch Yuki Tsukumo and Yuta Okkotsu," Satoru suggested.
"That covers two of the three primary zones. We're still short one..."
"I'll go."
Suguru Geto raised a weary hand. And so, having just touched down from Hokkaido, Suguru found himself back in the air, a permanent resident of business-class lounges.
"What about Toji Fushiguro?" Souma asked, his eyes gleaming with the intent to ruin someone else's day. "I won't have anyone living more comfortably than me."
"Sir... Toji isn't a sorcerer, nor is he technically part of the Three Clans. We don't have the authority to mobilize him."
"Is that so?"
Souma dialed Toji's number with a thin, unpleasant smile. Five minutes later, in a quiet apartment, Toji Fushiguro's face twitched as he hung up.
"Dad? What's wrong?" Tsumiki asked, noticing his dark expression.
"Nothing, kid. Just some bastard demanding overtime... the kind that doesn't pay."
Three months later.
"During the Tokyo Incident, the Sixth Division performed exceptionally, exorcising three Special Grades and seventeen Grade 1 spirits."
"Based on combat records and actual merit, the current rankings of Panda, Toge Inumaki, and Maki Zenin do not reflect their true abilities. I recommend all three for promotion to Grade 1."
"Nominator: Souma Gojo."
Yoshinobu Gakuganji, acting as the intermediary for Jujutsu High, held the three recommendation letters in his withered hands. He hesitated.
Toge Inumaki was straightforward—as the last descendant of the Cursed Speech clan, a Grade 1 rank was fitting. But Panda and Maki were political landmines. The higher-ups preferred Panda to remain low-profile, keeping the strategic value of an Abrupt Mutated Cursed Corpse at a manageable Grade 2.
As for Maki Zenin, the Zenin clan was united in their opposition. Save for Naobito, who remained uncharacteristically silent, the elders were breathing down Gakuganji's neck. Her father, Ogi Zenin, had demanded she be kept at Grade 4 as a matter of "clan honor."
Gakuganji knew the petty drama well. Normally, he'd grant the Zenins a favor. But then his eyes drifted to the name on the nominator line: Souma Gojo.
A man who had openly threatened Lord Tengen would likely find punching an old principal to be a relaxing hobby. Gakuganji's old bones weren't meant for that kind of stress.
Thump. He pressed the seal of approval.
After dismissing the letters, he pulled a secret scroll from a locked drawer. As he read, the wrinkles on his face deepened into grim crevices.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Enter."
Gakuganji tucked the scroll away as Aoi Todo and the Kyoto students filed in.
"Principal? You called for us?"
"Sit." Gakuganji gestured. Most sat with rigid discipline; only Aoi Todo lounged with total disregard for decorum.
A few minutes into the briefing...
"WHAT???"
Todo slammed his hands on the table and stood up, his voice booming.
Gakuganji remained expressionless. "The higher-ups require that during this Goodwill Event, you kill Yuji Itadori."
"That thing is not human. It is the vessel for Ryomen Sukuna. Even without more fingers, it is a ticking time bomb. You are to show no mercy. The higher-ups will treat it as a tragic accident."
Todo lunged, grabbing Gakuganji by his collar and hoisting the old man upward. "Hey! You old fossil! Do you have any idea... that Itadori is my best friend?"
Gakuganji's eyes narrowed into icy slits. "Private sentiments cannot outweigh a threat to the entire world of sorcery."
CRASH!
Todo didn't bother arguing. He kicked the door off its hinges. "Takada-chan has a signing event at three. If I knew this meeting was going to be this stupid, I wouldn't have come. I'm going to be late!"
Noritoshi Kamo called out, "Wait! Todo—"
"Shut it!" Todo snarled over his shoulder. "I've already lost hope in you lot. Your taste in women is abysmal, and your souls are tiny."
"And you, old man. You're plotting an assassination in front of me? If you actually try it, I'll kill you myself."
With that, Aoi Todo stuffed his hands in his pockets and vanished down the hall.
Gakuganji sighed. "If Todo won't participate, so be it." He turned to the remaining students. "The task falls to you then. Eliminate the vessel."
To the Kyoto students, killing Yuji Itadori didn't feel like murder. He was a vessel; killing him was no different from exorcising a curse. They hadn't shared meals with him like Megumi or Nobara, nor had they seen the warmth in his eyes like Maki and Panda. Their only memory was a fleeting glance during the chaos.
Miwa Kasumi raised a trembling hand. "But... isn't Itadori-kun's teacher Satoru Gojo?"
Gakuganji was silent for a long beat. "Which is why you won't do it directly. You only need to drive the vessel to a designated location. I will place a Grade 1 cursed spirit there to handle the assassination."
"That way, even Satoru Gojo can't find fault. It will simply be an unfortunate mishap during the trial."
"Oh..." Miwa lowered her head. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were sounding less like sorcerers and more like the villains in a Saturday morning cartoon.
Mechaimaru remained silent, a metallic mask of compliance. Noritoshi Kamo and Mai Zenin nodded in agreement; as products of the Big Three, they had little sympathy for a "vessel" who had stumbled into their world. Momo Nishimiya followed Mai's lead.
"Very well." Gakuganji's half-closed eyes glinted with a cold, predatory light. "It is settled."
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