I am very thankful to Jon bennett for joining my pateron with highest tier
Chapter 65
Jerry's cryptic hint lingered like a tantalizing riddle wrapped in shadows, its sheer vagueness igniting a flurry of outlandish guesses. Umaru, the chat's self-appointed stirrer of pots with her penchant for theatrical flair, couldn't resist diving in: What if the "Prison Realm Master" had puffed up his chest with that victorious quip, only to get obliterated by Sukuna in the blink of an eye?
Kaguya Shinomiya, completely baffled by the puzzle, shifted focus to rally support in the group for Tsukimi Eiko, who looked like she'd been blindsided by a freight train of ominous news.
"Granted, the inner world's non-meddling stance with the surface is a cornerstone rule, but expecting a beast from antiquity to toe today's line? That's a gamble with long odds."
"For now, the Mysterious Person stands as our lone beacon on Shibuya's brewing tempest—what simmers beneath, how vicious the surge. Staying sharp until it hits? That's non-negotiable wisdom."
The scope of it all stretched like an endless horizon, challenging Kaguya's ironclad poise. Locking down Shibuya by October's curtain call? A quixotic folly—what if she poured fortunes into a barricade, just for Ryomen Sukuna to manifest in some unforeseen corner?
Blends of everyday narratives might gently redirect lives, but upheavals from the inner realm? They called for precision honed to a razor's edge.
Six months' leeway shone like a guiding star. She and the girls wouldn't languish; transformation loomed.
Even if the Mysterious Person kept vanishing into his "underground" routine, they could craft a blueprint to fell Sukuna.
Ripple Qigong, Breathing Techniques, spiritual force, Jujutsu—as long as Reading Values fueled the forge, these mystical tools would yield to her command.
"But hedge your bets, Eiko—if the stage is your destiny, pull up stakes from Shibuya now. I can connect you with ironclad agencies and guides."
Tsukimi Eiko offered thanks but stood resolute, her refusal a steadfast wall.
Tsukimi Eiko: "This spot's boss dragged me back from the edge; abandoning ship? Out of the question. Shibuya's bursting with souls—if doom descends, I can't just spectate their downfall."
She knew her current powerlessness all too well, yet after embedding herself in Shibuya's rhythm, turning a blind eye to its people's peril felt like the ultimate disloyalty.
Respecting Eiko's unbreakable resolve, Kaguya relented, pledging only: "Inner world intel breaks? I'll relay to the crew without delay."
As the group's worries bubbled like a cauldron over the half-year countdown to Shibuya's potential cataclysm, Renji Miyauchi sailed through untroubled tides.
He'd barely batted an eye at Ryomen Sukuna, especially after devouring the manga.
The grand finale's spectacle fizzled out—beyond the Prison Realm Master's demise, casualties were scant, mostly peripheral souls.
The leads, fresh from victory, had the gall to postmortem and pass the buck, as if toppling the ancient King of Curses yielded zero satisfaction.
It reeked more of a flawed game session, begging for a reset.
Confronting such surreal storytelling, Renji mused he'd have endless avenues to feed Gojo Satoru the full spoiler reel.
Renji couldn't fathom Gojo, script-armed with every villain ploy, action, and hindsight breakdown, still whining about Sukuna holding back.
Jujutsu's oddities paled next to the unresolved enigmas of other tales.
Duwang Town, stripped of Joestars or SPW backing? Confirmed.
Fuyuki City, Tokyo's Kanbuchi ward, Hokkaido's Misaki Town? Clear signs of mage undercurrents, though the exact Type-Moon flavor remained murky.
His recent "location hunts" had debunked several hunches.
Durarara!! and Persona? Absent from the mix—kudos to the world for dodging those endgame bullets.
Nura Rihan and Inuyasha? Still up in the air, demanding vigilant watch.
Big picture: No world-ending blips on the horizon.
Clear Shibuya's hurdle, and Tokyo could exhale for a beat.
Yet voicing that verdict felt like tempting fate—who could predict the next curveball in this anime blender?
All Renji could do was grind his death note, stacking power.
He'd just wrapped the third video for his fresh account and was now hunkered down at home, slicing footage.
The opener's smash hit had electrified Ito Kaiji and Sakakibara Kouichi with traffic surges; they craved more, volunteering post-bell marathons to lock in the momentum.
His initial weekly pledge? Amped to three every two weeks.
Mihama's homicide archives? Endless trove.
Episode two: The timeless art museum killing.
Slated for hotel rebirth, the land buyer bites dust, demolition screeches to a halt mid-swing.
This handed Renji prime pickings, and the vid dropped to rave reviews.
Today's third: The library's elevator body stash—weight alarm blares despite passenger count compliance, layered with chilling tunes and Renji's prepped phantom tales.
The sole public-access spot in the trio, yet Renji sensed its dread factor would hit hardest.
Real vengeful entities skulked there—puny, mindless, impotent to harm or sway.
But through his tweaked Camera Obscura lens, the footage hid "Easter egg" glimpses—subtle specters demanding eagle-eyed scrutiny.
How did Renji, Pure Yang beacon, pull it off? Beyond Yellow Temperance's evolving suppression, a timely gadget blueprint.
Death note narrative, at least.
Lately, yields were gourmet morsels from food realms and unassuming baubles.
This one's edge? Game-changer for his current setup.
Naruto's sealing tags—note-modified, chakra bypassed; spiritual power or Ripple ignition.
A tag at the dantian sealed yang overflow. Paired with Yellow Temperance's masquerade, even Shiina Mashiro's sharp instincts drew blanks up close.
Renji lamented the delay—if snagged sooner, Shiina's detection dodged.
Yet her role as loyal mole? Silver lining supreme.
No fixation there.
Blueprint in pocket, he churned out months' worth pronto.
Utility beyond self-muzzle: Ghost and Curse lockdowns, plus evolutionary fodder.
Study payoff? Towering.
Naruto seals epitomized broken—entry-level stows trinkets, mid-tier nulls techniques, elite cages Beasts.
Ultimate antagonist Kaguya Otsutsuki? Tagged and bagged. Lifelong pursuit material.
Master late-Naruto depths? Adversary secret weapon unlocked.
In essence, death note debut's Pure Yang "spotlight" physique finally dimmed—back to shadows.
Mihama's half-month "ghost cleanse"? Reverted.
Renji hoped the scattered vengeful spirits and Curse Spirits would flock home soon, unveiling Mihama's authentic "infernal utopia."
"Time to reel Jerry in. Solo grinding's glacial," Renji murmured.
His extended jaunt over—research resumption.
"Then Jerry drops the full Saekano novel set on Eriri—let her glimpse tsundere destinies nowadays."
While Renji Miyauchi toiled into the wee hours splicing clips, Mihama Town's midnight veil concealed no tranquility.
Mihama Town gleamed as a convenience haven near Tokyo's heart, save for its nagging crime shadow.
Yet ley lines, feng shui quirks, and tangled barriers had long twisted its underbelly into the inner world's spectral landfill.
Elevated crime and self-harm stats? The hidden toll.
But as Japan's—and the globe's—urban titan, Tokyo craved such a sink.
Exorcists grew averse to the resentment-saturated zone over years.
Tokyo Jujutsu High? Annual freshman field trips for spirit scrimmages.
Otherwise, sans uproar, who'd bother purging waves only for fresh haunts to spawn days later?
Monthly patrols sufficed: Trim the bold, corral the meek.
Decades of stasis.
Mihama-confined apparitions? No fuss.
This year? Hiccup.
Placid phantoms erupted in exodus!
Adjacent guardians twigged Mihama origins post-half-month scatter.
These "displaced" shades, growing surlier—mediums escalated to command.
Command: Shinto elites and Curse Command.
Contrast lone wolf Romm: Mediums shrine-anchored, ley-bound for surge borrows—domain dominators, Shinto salaried.
Bond cost? Mobility shackles; prolonged absence invites ley lashback.
Exorcist/Sorcerer divide: Sorcerers bloodline-bound, eras of clans/Command clout in Jujutsu domain.
Innate Technique wall—acquired rarity.
Talent siphon to Onmyoji/Exorcists/supernatural competitors.
Tokyo Jujutsu High cracked the code—pedigree-agnostic, Technique-optional recruits, Sorcerer refresh.
Decade of inclusive doctrine, High grads' prowess—Jujutsu Tokyo clout climbs.
Mihama forsaken pit, but snafu? Havoc.
"Anomaly" scrutiny: Shinto mediums mobilize, Jujutsu execs Level 1 Sorcerer deploy.
"Typical, Jujutsu brass—forcing midnight marathons," Nanami Kento grumbled, Mihama ground oozing malice. Wrap fast, crash hard.
Corporate grind? Follicle watch.
Sleepless shifts? Hairline assaults.
Mihama Curses scarce, but burg itself? Colossal curse field.
Ancient gambit: Sukuna finger damper—malice unchecked, seal eroded.
Task tame, vigilance vital.
"Findings?"
Nanami pressed co-overtime mediums.
"Sentient shades interrogated—subject hush-hush."
"Probable transient Exorcist, exotic vibe, Mihama pass-through—savage sweep, spirit slaughter. Remnants? Traumatized blackout, Exorcist void."
"Precedents abound. Tokyo buzz, visitor virtuosos."
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