"I am M'Khoro… of the Sao tribe."
The giant turned and began walking toward the far edge of the garden once more. His footsteps were slow and deliberate, very heavy against the earth, as though he was sizing up the ground beneath him with every step. The first-years followed instinctively, forming a loose procession behind his towering frame.
Geto walked close behind him, hands tucked into his pockets. His posture was rigid and attentive. The contrast between him and Gojo was stark, where Geto was coiled and alert. Gojo's gait remained loose, careless even. His long strides were brash and unrestrained.
Reiji followed behind the two special grades, his eyes never leaving M'khoro's back. Shoko stayed farther behind them all, maintaining a safe distance. Her expression was unreadable.
Soon, beyond the massive silhouette of the ancient sorcerer, the skyline of West Shinjuku revealed itself.
Towering skyscrapers loomed in the distance, their glass facades reflecting pale moonlight. The modern city stood in quiet contradiction to the primal presence leading them; steel and concrete brushed against bone and memory.
M'khoro cleared his throat as he continued forward.
"It… was a monster," he said slowly, searching for the words. "One that has lived since man first learned to fear."
The two behind him tensed immediately. Geto's shoulders stiffened and Gojo's smile faded.
Reiji and Shoko, having already encountered the thing, felt a familiar unease coil in their chests.
"My father," M'khoro continued, his voice steady and heavy, "was sorcerer, like you. He was killed by it."
Reiji grimaced, fingers curling slightly at his side.
"It breaks the flow of events," the giant said, extending one long arm forward as he walked. "It breaks… what should come next."
His pace did not change, but the others had to quicken their steps to keep up with his immense stride.
"It breaks all that is not living."
His hand closed around empty air.
"And it can break… even that which cannot be touched."
Gojo exhaled sharply, irritation edging into his voice.
"Alright, but what does this curse want from us?"
M'khoro stopped abruptly.
The group halted with him.
He turned slowly, dreadlocks adorned with bone beads swaying gently in the night breeze. His eyes were dark, ancient, fixed firmly on them.
"It was born from mankind's fear," he said carefully. "Fear of what comes after. Fear of wrong outcomes."
He paused, as if considering whether the next words could even be understood.
"It wishes only this," he continued. "To keep making things... crumble. Until there is nothing left behind."
Reiji's eyes sharpened.
"So, it won't stop until everything is destroyed?"
M'khoro nodded calmly… too calmly. A composure born not of peace, but of countless hours spent forcing himself to an unsteady state of calm.
"Yes," he said. "Its strength grows with every life it ruins."
Geto's expression froze.
The implication sank in like a blade.
A thin line of sweat trickled down Gojo's temple.
"…And how strong is it?"
M'khoro raised his calloused palm, turning it over slowly as if expecting an answer to be carved into his skin.
"I do not know."
Gojo let out a strained, nervous laugh.
Reiji, however, had already fallen deep into thought.
'We need more information.'
"Does it have a name?" Reiji asked.
M'khoro remained silent for several seconds.
"No," he said at last. "But my father hunted it. He was part of a group that tried to do so."
Sorrow briefly crossed his face.
"They failed."
"They named it… Rift Weaver," he said, gesturing with both arms at the space before them. "Because it splits what lies between. The gap… becomes its home."
"It cannot be found," he continued. "It hides inside these rifts. And it seals them behind itself."
Geto's composure finally cracked.
"W-what? Then how are we supposed to…"
Reiji forced himself to think.
'If its technique is some kind of destruction… fracture… then reversal must be restoration…'
The conclusion chilled him.
'This curse is experienced. Skilled enough to master even the deepest layers of its ability. And it hides in a different dimension.'
Reiji frowned deeply.
'How do you fight something you can't even locate?'
Geto spoke again, voice frantic now.
"That which cannot be touched…? what does that include? Sound? Light? Energy?"
M'khoro nodded once.
"Yes. It can take the senses from you… One by one… Or all at once."
Gojo cursed internally.
"…you won't know if what you see is real," Reiji finished quietly.
M'khoro nodded.
"I cannot track it," he said. "I only feel it… when it is about to strike."
He touched the bone piercing set into his septum.
"This tells me."
Gojo narrowed his eyes.
'What exactly is his technique? This doesn't fit any known classification…' Reiji wondered.
Geto struggled for words, breath uneven.
Reiji felt his thoughts spiral dangerously.
Were those real hallucinations... of this creature's design?
Were they manufactured?
'Why me?' he cursed.
M'khoro's gaze fell on him.
"It used you sorcerers," he said plainly. "Used your presence… to draw me here. Into this land and into its domain."
Reiji stiffened.
"I was foolish and naive," M'khoro continued. "I came to avenge my tribe, but I walked into its mouth instead."
Reiji recalled St. Luke's Hospital.
'It had used its technique on this person…', Reiji recalled.
"It destroyed the sacred totem," M'khoro said, voice heavy. "The one my mother, the shaman, used to seal much of its strength in the form of wailing spirits."
Gojo swallowed.
"So it's at full power now."
M'khoro shook his head.
"It is stronger," he said. "It was already building strength and now it has begun to reclaim what it once was."
Shoko pulled out a cigar, lighting it slowly.
"So… what do we do now?"
Reiji felt cold logic fight against rising dread.
'It is intelligent… It can manipulate perception. It already altered M'khoro senses to lure him.'
He grimaced.
'I can't trust anything I see.'
*********************************************************
Inside a modest restaurant in West Shinjuku, two girls sat across from each other, laughter and warmth filling the small space.
"This place is awesome!" the younger girl exclaimed happily. "Thank you so much for the treat!"
The slightly older girl smiled gently in response. Her black hair was neatly tied back, not a strand was out of place.
"Of course," she said warmly. "I just received my first paycheck. Order as much as you want."
The younger girl, Hana Saito, a high school student, grinned and continued eating with enthusiasm, clearly enjoying herself.
The two had been childhood friends.
Born and raised in Shinjuku, they had grown up on the same streets, attended nearby schools, and shared countless small memories. For as long as either could remember, they had been inseparable.
Hana spoke again between mouthfuls.
"Still… it's incredible you got a job so close to home. Seriously, that's amazing for real."
The older girl: Mika Takahashi let out a small laugh.
"Yeah. I guess so." She tilted her head slightly. "I don't know about other people, but I never really wanted to leave this place. Shinjuku has its own unique charm, you know?"
Hana nodded vigorously.
"Mhm-mhm-"
She swallowed quickly before continuing.
"And you landing that job makes total sense. Your people skills have always been insane."
Mika waved her off dismissively.
"That's nothing compared to your intuition, Hana."
Hana froze mid-bite.
Mika realized it instantly.
"Ah… sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just… sometimes it's scary how you just know things... before anything even goes wrong you know?"
Hana sighed quietly, setting her chopsticks down.
"It's fine," she replied. "I can't get used to it either."
The tension faded as the conversation drifted back into lighter topics. The laughter returned. For a while, they existed in a simple, comfortable happiness; two friends enjoying a quiet night.
Then… Hana's senses flared.
Cold sweat broke across her forehead.
Her head snapped toward the window.
Outside, the city was calm. Too calm perhaps. Most people were already home, lights were off, streets nearly empty. Streetlamps cast long shadows over the pavement, and a gentle nighttime breeze stirred the trash and leaves.
Hana's chopsticks slipped from her fingers and clattered against the table.
Mika startled.
"Hana? What's wrong?"
Hana shot up from her chair.
An overwhelming sense of unease crushed down on her chest, sharp and suffocating. She spared her friend only a single glance before bolting out of the restaurant and into the street.
She gasped for breath, heart hammering violently as she spun in place, searching frantically. Sweat soaked her hair, plastering it to her skin.
She had always known when things were about to go wrong.
But this… This was different.
The intensity shattered every scale she had ever known.
Her knees trembled as the realization struck her: whatever was causing this was far beyond her. Vast and utterly Indifferent.
She felt impossibly small.
Terrified, Hana forced herself to slowly look up.
The night sky was abnormal.
The stars… normally steady… were fractured, as if the heavens themselves had cracked like shattered glass. The moonlight illuminated the distortion clearly, making it impossible to deny.
Panic surged through her.
She bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood. A thin red stream ran down her chin.
Her vision swam.
"Hana!"
She turned at the sound of Mika's voice.
Mika stood inside the restaurant doorway, the door half-open, one hand reaching out desperately.
"Hana? What's going on?"
Hana's head turned slowly toward her.
Her eyes widened.
And she screamed.
"GET OUT OF THERE—!"
***************************************
The group of sorcerers stood in tense silence, quietly regarding M'Khoro.
Though his explanation had been thorough, the weight of it took time to settle in.
Gojo paced back and forth, agitation clear in his movements. Geto stood with his arms folded tightly, his jaw clenched. Reiji remained still with his eyes closed, trying to piece together everything they had learned. Shoko meanwhile calmly enjoyed her cigar, smoke curling lazily into the night air.
Then unease crept in.
Gojo felt it first.
Then M'khoro stiffened instantly, his head snapping toward the skyline of West Shinjuku as the cool breeze brushed past his face.
"What the hell…?" Gojo muttered.
M'khoro let out a deep, heavy sigh.
"We are too late," he said solemnly.
Geto frowned, confused but sensing the gravity of the moment. Shoko paused mid-drag, curiosity sharpening her gaze.
Reiji's trance shattered violently.
Akame burst open.
The pain was sudden and brutal. Reiji cried out as Akame's vision tore upward, stretching across the skyline while his normal eye lagged behind, overwhelmed.
He clutched his face, groaning, fingers digging into his skin.
But through the gaps between his hands:
He saw it.
The shimmering, fractured sky.
Reiji gasped as dread seized his heart yet again.
Then… The buildings collapsed.
And the earthquake followed …