Kenjaku's smile widened as he leaned back in his seat, fingers loosely interlocked.
"With Yuji Itadori, honestly, everything is going perfectly for us," he said calmly. "The curse of eternal youth weighs heavily on him. Watching everyone he loves grow old, wither, and die while he remains unchanged… it's eating away at him."
Iori listened silently.
"He's depressed," Kenjaku continued. "More than he lets on. And recently he left Japan."
Iori's lips curled upward. "So now is the time to strike."
Kenjaku nodded. "Yes. But we must be intelligent about it. We can't afford to be hasty."
Then, suddenly, he chuckled.
"You know," Kenjaku added lightly, "Yuji is technically my son. Perhaps if I spoke to him as a parent, he'd be willing to help me."
He laughed openly.
Iori frowned. "What are you even talking about? I swear, I don't understand your jokes half the time." He shook his head. "But getting back on topic, if Yuji's out of Japan, all I have to do is kill Wasuke, right?"
Kenjaku's smile vanished.
He stared at Iori as though he were looking at something profoundly disappointing.
"…You know," Kenjaku said slowly, "for the son of one of the smartest sorcerers of the last forty-plus years, you are remarkably stupid."
Iori blinked. "Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"
Kenjaku sighed and stood up, walking toward the wooden railing of the cabin. He rested his hands against it, letting the sunlight wash over his pale skin.
"Killing Wasuke would immediately alert Yuji Itadori," Kenjaku said flatly. "And once that happens, both you and I would be slaughtered."
He turned his head slightly. "That man loves his grandson more than anything. There is no force on this planet that could stop him once he knows."
Kenjaku paused.
"And besides," he added, "for you to kill Wasuke… you would first need the power to actually do so first."
Iori stood up as well, irritation flashing across his face. "What are you trying to say?"
Kenjaku turned fully to face him. "Exactly what you think I'm saying."
His four eyes narrowed.
"As things stand, Wasuke Itadori Jr. would obliterate you."
Iori clicked his tongue. "I'll admit Wasuke might be stronger than me," he said, crossing his arms, "but obliterate me? Stop joking."
Kenjaku chuckled softly. "Heavenly Restricted sorcerers," he said. "You all think you sit at the top of the food chain."
He tilted his head. "I see now why the Zenin Clan despised your kind."
Iori scowled. "Are you done insulting me?"
Kenjaku turned away, returning to the table. He picked up his teacup, took a slow sip, then spoke again.
"Let me put it in numbers so your brain can keep up."
Iori stiffened.
"Strength-wise," Kenjaku continued, "I would place you at around six to eight Sukuna fingers."
Iori's eyes widened slightly. "And? That's good, right? That puts me at special grade six to eight times over."
Kenjaku smiled. "If that interpretation helps you sleep at night, I won't stop you."
He set the cup down.
"But using that same scale… Wasuke Itadori Jr. would be around thirteen to fifteen fingers."
Iori froze.
"…Impossible," he said quietly. "There's no way he's that much stronger than me."
Kenjaku sighed, clearly uninterested in debating. "I don't have the energy to argue with you."
He began counting on his fingers.
"Shrine."
"Cursed Speech."
"A semi–Heavenly Restricted body."
"An immense cursed energy pool."
"Exceptional control, refined under the personal mentorship of Yuji Itadori."
"Concentration so precise he can land Black Flashes at will, just like his grandfather."
"And a fully realized Domain Expansion."
He looked up.
"I could go on."
Kenjaku leaned closer.
"Heavenly Restricted sorcerers are said to be resistant to Domain Expansions," he said quietly. "But tell me, does that still apply when countless slashes rain down on you without pause?"
Silence filled the cabin.
Kenjaku's four eyes locked onto Iori's.
"Now tell me, Iori Okkotsu," he said coldly.
"Do you truly believe… you can kill Wasuke Itadori Jr?"
The sunlight outside remained warm.
Inside the cabin, the illusion of confidence began to crumble.
Iori's thoughts spiraled, growing darker with every passing second.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue sharply before dropping back into his chair. "Damn it… so what do we do then?"
Kenjaku lifted his teacup once more, sipping calmly. A soft chuckle followed.
"Good," he said. "You should sit there quietly and await instructions like a good boy. Leave the planning to me."
"I don't care," Iori replied flatly.
Kenjaku shrugged. "Very well. The plan is simple. You will still face Wasuke, but not to defeat him. This will be an experiment."
Iori snapped his head up. "Huh? You just told me I don't stand a chance against him, and now you want me to fight him?"
Kenjaku's smile thinned. "I dislike people who don't listen."
He set his cup down.
"Of course I don't believe you can win," Kenjaku continued. "That is, under fair conditions."
Iori frowned. "Then what changes?"
"That," Kenjaku said calmly, "is where my barrier comes in."
"…Barrier?" Iori echoed.
"Yes. A barrier." Kenjaku folded his hands. "The greatest advantage of possessing this body is Tengen's unparalleled knowledge of Jujutsu barrier techniques. Over the past sixty-eight years, I've developed something… special."
Kenjaku turned his four eyes toward Iori.
"If my theory is correct, once erected, this barrier will suppress Wasuke Itadori Jr.'s combat potential down to three or four Sukuna fingers."
Iori shot to his feet. "Seriously?!"
"Don't get excited," Kenjaku said dryly. "You still can't beat him."
Iori stiffened.
"Your only job," Kenjaku continued, "is to confirm whether the barrier functions as intended. Once you have your answer, you retreat immediately."
Iori clenched his teeth. "…Fine."
Kenjaku smiled. "Good. Then let us set the plan into motion."
Elsewhere
A grotesque curse loomed over a ruined street, its twisted form pulsating with malice.
Two boys stood frozen before it.
A blond boy, tears streaming down his face, trembled violently. "Kenzo… we can't exorcise it. I–I don't want to die."
Beside him stood a muscular brunette, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles bled.
"I'm sorry, Haruto," Kenzo said through his own tears. "I really thought we could handle it… this is my fault."
The cursed spirit let out a wet, gurgling laugh.
Kenzo inhaled deeply, forcing himself to stand upright. Cursed energy flared around his fists as he turned to Haruto.
"Haruto," he said firmly. "Run."
Haruto shook his head desperately. "It's impossible! If you stay, you'll die for sure!"
Kenzo smiled weakly. "It's fine. I will die an honorable death… that's what it means to be a sorcerer."
Haruto's sobs intensified.
"You have more potential than me," Kenzo continued. "You have to survive. Get stronger and exorcise countless curses."
He took a step forward.
"For both of us."
Fear clawed at his chest, but Kenzo screamed as he charged the cursed spirit.
"JUJUTSU—!"
"KENZO, NOOOO!" Haruto cried.
Kenzo's punch slammed into the curse's body but It did nothing.
The cursed spirit giggled.
"Yummy… yummy… why is he getting more?"
A massive hand wrapped around Kenzo's body, lifting him effortlessly.
Haruto stood paralyzed. "No… please… no…"
The curse opened its mouth wide read to devour Kenzo, but in an instant, its body was sliced apart into multiple bits.
Blood and cursed flesh scattered across the ground.
Kenzo and Haruto stared in disbelief at what had just happened.
Standing protectively in front of Haruto was a young man with a lazy expression. He wore black pants, a white vest, ugg boots, and a scarf pulled up over his mouth. The air around him felt impossibly heavy.
Special Grade Sorcerer
Wasuke Itadori Jr.
He glanced down at the remains of the curse.
"Grade 1, huh?" Wasuke muttered.
He scoffed.
"Like hell this thing was Grade 1."
His eyes sharpened.
"It was definitely Special Grade."