Deep beneath the Hoshigami Estate, within an inner barrier woven from ancient and potent craft, Tengen focused her entire being on the coming ritual. The space around her shimmered with contained power, light flickering in the depths like a submerged star. Outside this sanctum, Kamo Itsuki and Ieiri Shoko stood vigil, a silent guard awaiting the arrival of their companions. The message had already been sent—the plan was a success—and the news had eased a palpable tension for those still on the road.
That journey had been far from simple. After Kamo and Shoko departed, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru faced a relentless gauntlet. Waves of curse users, drawn by a bounty placed on Amanai Riko's life on the dark web, tested their endurance. Each assault was effortlessly repelled, but the constant vigilance was a drain. The situation grew more complicated when, due to a moment of overlooked vulnerability, Riko's caretaker Kuroi was kidnapped.
Though he grumbled about involving outsiders, Gojo understood the stakes. Amanai Riko and Kuroi were bound like sisters; without Kuroi's safety, Riko's cooperation was forfeit. With no alternative, they followed the trail to Okinawa, where they successfully freed Kuroi from her captors. As a precaution, Jujutsu High dispatched first-years Nanami Kento and Haibara Yu for support, yet the expected harassment never came. The Okinawan interlude was strangely peaceful, allowing Gojo to grant Riko a single, sun-drenched day of normalcy by the sea.
It was there, with the sound of waves in the background, that the confirmation from Kamo arrived. The weight that had settled on their shoulders lightened measurably.
"Satoru, Kamo's plan succeeded. You can relax now," Geto murmured, his voice low with concern as he studied the deepening shadows under Gojo's eyes. "You've been maintaining your technique since yesterday."
"I'm fine," Gojo insisted, offering a confident grin and a light punch to Geto's shoulder. "His part worked, so we can't mess ours up. Besides, you're here." The bravado was undercut by a weariness he could not fully hide.
Time bled away until, at last, they stood before the outer barrier of the Hoshigami Estate. With Amanai Riko unharmed, they crossed the threshold into its protective embrace.
"Everyone, you've worked hard," Geto announced, his tone laced with fatigue and profound relief. "We are now inside the barrier."
A collective exhale swept through the group. The relentless pressure seemed to melt away, replaced by the secure stillness of a haven.
"Now I can finally relax," Riko sighed, gratitude softening her features.
"Yes," Kuroi echoed softly.
The reprieve lasted only a heartbeat.
Without warning, a whisper of steel split the calm. A blade emerged from empty air, piercing through Gojo Satoru's chest with silent, surgical precision. Time fractured. A unified shock, cold and paralyzing, seized every heart.
How is this possible?
The unspoken scream echoed in their minds. Such a violation within Tengen's own barrier was unthinkable.
At the other end of the blade stood a black-haired man, a scar curling at the corner of his mouth. His presence was a void, a absolute blank in the world of cursed energy. This was Fushiguro Toji, the ace of the Bansei Cult, a being forged by a Heavenly Restriction—born without a shred of cursed energy, and granted a body of unparalleled physical perfection in return.
This flawless body, honed by a Heavenly Restriction, granted him preternatural senses and kinetic genius. He could read the shift of air that signaled a curse's movement, smell the ozone-tang of cursed energy, and hear the whisper of a technique's formation. While cursed spirits were immune to his bare hands, sorcerers were not. They were merely flesh and bone, and he was a master of breaking both.
A single memory, sharp as the blade in his hand, guided his strategy. Years ago, as a child, he had slipped behind a white-haired boy—only to be met with a direct, knowing gaze. The Six Eyes had seen him. That singular experience taught him that Gojo Satoru could not be approached head-on.
Thus, his plan was one of erosion. The bounty on the dark web was his tool, a means to grind down the sorcerer's edge through sleepless nights and constant skirmishes. He waited for the moment of inevitable dullness, for the false security of the barrier's embrace. Then, he moved—a true ghost, leaving no ripple in the cursed world he existed outside of—and struck when the relief was sweetest.
Now, under the stark sky, Toji stood as the embodiment of a cruel equation solved. His eyes held a flat, surgical disdain for the sorcerers before him.
With the blade still protruding from his chest, Gojo Satoru turned his head. A flicker of distant recognition crossed his face. "Have we met somewhere before?"
Toji's lips curled, not in a smile, but in a sneer of profound indifference. "Don't mind these details. I'm not good at remembering men's names either." His voice was the dry rasp of stone on stone.
The paralysis of shock lasted only a heartbeat before violence erupted. Gojo's hand rose, and a tide of invisible, compressive force—the Limitless—surged forward to crush the intruder. At the same instant, Geto Suguru's response was a geyser of malformed life; a gargantuan worm-curse erupted from a shadow portal, its circular maw large enough to swallow a car, diving straight for Toji.
The attacks were overwhelming, yet both sorcerers knew, on an instinctual level, that it was too simple. This man was a void where their usual rules did not apply.
They were right. Toji didn't try to withstand the crushing force or outrun the beast. He flowed. Using the Limitless' own pushing pressure, he angled his body and let it slingshot him laterally in a blur, the worm's teeth closing on empty air where he had been a microsecond before. He landed in a low crouch, already analyzing, already adapting. He was not trapped; he was learning.
"Satoru, how are you?" Geto cried out, rushing to his friend's side, his face etched with fear.
Gojo waved him off with a blood-streaked hand, his expression shifting from pained curiosity to a razor-edged focus. "I'm fine. Shifted the vitals in time. Reinforced the area. It looks dramatic, but it's just a pin through a sweater." The lie was smooth, a performance of invincibility for both his friend and his foe. The confidence in his tone was a weapon in itself.
He stopped Geto with a look. "You protect Amanai Riko and get to Kamo. I'll handle this guy."
The worry in Geto's eyes was palpable. "Then you must be careful."
A slow, terrifying grin spread across Gojo's face as he reached up and removed his glasses, revealing the full, celestial glow of the Six Eyes. "He's the one who should be careful. I've accumulated a lot of stress recently… and he's just the right person to vent it on."
The air grew dense and still. The serious injury, the blatant violation of his domain—it had ignited something within Gojo Satoru. The playful prodigy was gone, replaced by a force of nature ready to remind the world why he stood alone at the top. This ghost from his past, this man with no cursed energy, had finally earned his undivided, furious attention.