Reiji and Shoko sat on a bench within the Jujutsu High compound.
The air was calm considering what had transpired hours earlier. The campus lights glowed softly, indifferent to the catastrophe that had unfolded in West Shinjuku.
Gojo leaned lazily against a nearby pole, hands tucked into his pockets, while Geto stood facing the group with his arms crossed, his posture composed yet clearly restless.
The calamity had been contained.
But that word felt hollow.
Scores of civilians had died. The veil had barely prevented exposure. Jujutsu society had once again brushed against public revelation; and once again retreated into secrecy.
Reiji and Shoko had revived as many as they could before the higher authorities arrived. Their cursed energy reserves had been drained nearly to nothing by the time reinforcements finally stepped in.
The presence of the first-years at the scene had raised suspicion.
Still, the official narrative had been constructed quickly.
A "coincidence."
They had been on a late-night picnic nearby when disaster struck. And they intervened instinctively.
A blatant… convenient lie.
Gojo groaned dramatically.
"Urgh. Bullshitting the higher-ups was exhausting," he complained. "And now we're on temporary probation? Wasn't us saving people good enough for them?"
Geto adjusted his uniform, expression measured.
"Satoru," he said calmly, "Masamichi insisted that we take a break. Perhaps he genuinely wants us to rest."
He paused.
"We're still students. The things we've gone through already exceed what most sorcerers experience in a lifetime. We should let the higher ups deal with the curse of the time being."
"Bah," Gojo waved him off dismissively.
Reiji watched the exchange in silence.
Shoko glanced at him.
"Reiji… are you okay?"
Their eyes met.
His were tired… far more tired than usual.
"I'm fine," he replied softly. "I think. Thank you, Shoko."
His hair, loosened during the chaos, now hung messily over his shoulder.
"Now that we have downtime," she continued, "what do you intend to do?"
Before Reiji could answer, Gojo cut in.
"Eh? I'm hitting the arcade. You guys coming?"
He grinned widely.
Geto sighed but nodded.
Shoko waved dismissively while lighting another cigar.
"Not me. I'm heading to the library."
"Oh?" Geto asked curiously.
She stood.
"Research," she replied vaguely.
Without further elaboration, she walked away.
Gojo squinted after her.
"What's up with her?"
Geto's gaze shifted toward Reiji.
Reiji blinked.
"Huh? I'm not sure either."
Gojo stretched and pushed off the pole.
"Alright then. Let's go. You're coming, right? Or are you afraid of daylight?"
His grin widened mischievously.
Reiji allowed a helpless smile.
'I'm sure this isn't what an heir in the middle of a power struggle should be doing…'
"…Alright."
************************************************************
Deep within the Kamo estate, in a chamber lit only by dim lanterns, several elders had gathered.
The atmosphere was heavy… and stagnant.
Members of the neutral faction, some of those who had opposed the execution of Reiji Kamo, had been covertly assassinated in the night.
Within the grounds of the clan itself.
It should have been impossible.
The Kamo estate was layered with barriers, traps, and patrols refined over generations. For mere assassins to infiltrate and kill members of the clan meant one of two things:
Either the attackers were terrifyingly competent… Or someone within had allowed them entry.
Dairoku Kamo stood before the assembled elders, leaning on a walking cane.
He understood perfectly why he had been summoned.
With the balance of power now tilted, hesitation would no longer be tolerated.
His voice echoed through the dark chamber.
"So then?" he asked bluntly. "What do you want?"
An elder seated at the forefront of the opposing faction spoke. His voice was calm, polished… poison wrapped in silk.
"The council has reached a consensus."
He folded his hands neatly.
"Reiji Kamo has been deemed incompetent."
A pause.
"And a threat to the continued existence of this clan."
The room felt colder all of a sudden.
"By virtue of the binding vow you swore during the prior incident," the elder continued, "you, Dairoku Kamo, are obligated to fulfill your duty as executioner."
The words carried no emotion.
Only a sense of inevitability.
Dairoku exhaled slowly.
His leg throbbed faintly. His body had not fully recovered.
He had never asked for the boy.
He had been declared the mightiest warrior of his generation, and therefore the most suitable teacher.
No one had asked if he knew how to teach.
He glanced down at the worn tiles beneath his feet.
The very room where he had agreed to that binding vow.
When he raised his head, the elders expected resistance.
Instead… A mischievous smile spread across his face.
Then he laughed.
"I would love to end that brat's cursed existence," Dairoku said casually. "But…"
He lifted his cane slightly.
"As you can plainly see, I have not yet recovered."
Several elders scowled.
Time was dangerous and delay was opportunity.
Dairoku continued smoothly, managing to perfectly hide his nervousness.
"I understand your urgency. You fear that if left unattended, he may try to gather power."
He tilted his head slightly.
"But in my current state? I do not think I can beat him."
The room stirred.
"Though you brand him incompetent," Dairoku said evenly, "the boy is anything but that."
His hawk-like eyes sharpened.
"He could kill several of you before falling."
One elder shot to his feet.
"Are you insulting us?" he barked. "I refuse to believe that a crippled brat, missing organs and lacking blood, could stand against any one of us!"
Dairoku regarded him lazily.
'Blind fools.'
The leading elder rose slowly.
His face remained partially obscured by shadow.
"Very well," he said calmly. "You may take some time off to recover."
His tone carried finality.
"Prepare yourself… regain your edge."
He turned to leave.
"Your services," he added quietly, "may not be required in the end."
The chamber fell silent.
Dairoku heard every word.
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
'So that's your plan.'
"They're not even pretending anymore," he muttered under his breath.
************************************
The trip to the arcade had been unexpectedly enjoyable.
The three boys had lost themselves in flashing lights and mechanical sound effects. They argued over scores, mocked each other's reflexes, and competed like children who had never once faced death before.
For a few hours, they weren't heirs.
They weren't special grades or sorcerers burdened with the responsibility of society.
They were just boys.
To the point where it almost felt like they were long-lost friends reunited after years apart.
By the time the games ended and they parted ways, Reiji still carried a faint smile on his face.
Now, he walked alone toward the Jujutsu High compound. It was still some distance away, but he didn't mind.
The late evening wind brushed past him, tugging at his uniform and making his loose pants sway softly. The sunlight had begun to dim into a muted orange, the sky fading toward dusk.
The street was unusually quiet.
What should have been a busy evening felt… hollow.
Almost abandoned.
The isolation pressed against him in a subtle, uncomfortable way.
'Must be because of that curse,' Reiji thought grimly.
The one that hid within spatial rifts.
Now that he understood its nature, everything made sense.
The public unrest… The chaos.
The way events spiraled disproportionately toward disaster.
The curse wasn't merely destructive. It was extremely strategic.
It wove circuits of lies into the minds of ordinary people. It nudged them, ever so slightly, toward decisions that would yield the worst possible outcomes. It understood which triggers would provoke fear, anger, greed, paranoia… and it exploited them almost perfectly.
It didn't need to overpower humanity. It simply encouraged it to fall under its own weight.
'It pushes people toward the worst every situation has to offer… toward the very substance it was born from.'
Reiji exhaled slowly.
'And it does not have to do much. Everything that can go wrong… will go wrong, after all.'
He glanced at the row of bungalows lining both sides of the street.
Through windows he could see families gathered around dinner tables. Television lights flickered softly. Laughter echoed faintly from inside one house.
Though the curse tried to fracture society… some human bonds still endured somehow.
For now, at least.
A sharp beep cut through the quiet.
Reiji blinked and pulled out his phone while walking.
'A message from the old man.'
It was a single word.
Typed hurriedly, clearly with effort from someone who despised modern devices.
"Assassins."
Reiji's faint smile vanished.
He didn't need elaboration.
He knew exactly what that meant.
His jaw tightened as he subtly quickened his pace.
The air remained deathly calm.
Too calm perhaps.
And because of that calm, he failed to notice the relaxed footsteps behind him.
By the time he sensed anything… It was too late.
A woman suddenly caught up beside him.
Silent as the wind.
Her presence carried no detectable cursed energy. No killing intent. Nothing.
She moved like she was one with the ambience.
Before Reiji could react, her arm draped casually over his shoulders.
Reiji's entire body tensed.
He had felt nothing; his instinct and even Akame remained unprovoked.
Slowly, carefully, he turned his head.
She was tall, almost six feet, only slightly shorter than him.
She wore a casual black jacket with silver stripes running down the sleeves, paired with fitted jeans. Her short jet-black hair was cut neatly in a wedge style.
On her hands, she wore gloves that exposed parts of her fingertips and palm.
Her skin was lightly tanned, smooth, except for a scar.
One side of her cheek bore long, faintly jagged marks, as though someone had once dragged her face across asphalt. It had healed cleanly, blending almost seamlessly with her skin, but it remained unmistakable.
Her lips curled into a deadly smile.
It had a twisted beauty to it.
She met his eyes directly.
"Eh? Why'd ya stop?" she asked brightly.
Her voice was high-pitched, almost playful. Her tone utterly casual.
As if this were the most ordinary interaction in the world.
She winked.
"C'mon. Keep walkin'. Humor me for a minute, will ya?"
Sweat began to bead along Reiji's temple.
'What…?'
She leaned slightly into him, her weight deceptively relaxed, forcing him to keep moving forward.
And so they walked.
Side by side.
In suffocating silence.
'I can't make any sudden movements,' Reiji thought rapidly.
'She's stealthy… and fast. If she wanted to, she could kill me before I even activate Flowing Red Scale.
"Y'know…" she chimed. "There's a pretty high bounty on yer head."
They continued walking.
'Is she an assassin? or a curse user?' he wondered.
Streetlights flickered on one by one.
Reiji swallowed.
"Please take your hand off of me," he said, voice steady, almost polite despite the situation.
"But why though?" she replied lightly. "This is nice, isn't it?"
She laughed softly.
The sound carried no warmth.
Reiji slowly attempted to raise his arm, intending to remove hers.
His muscles tensed. His nerves fired.
His brain sent the signal, however his arm only lifted halfway.
It stopped… mid-motion.
Like an invisible weight pressed down on it.
Reiji's heart slammed against his ribs.
His arm refused to obey.
He tried again.
Nothing.
It wasn't numb. It certainly wasn't paralyzed.
It would listen, but it refused to follow through.
Cold sweat began streaming down his face now.
He had never felt this before. Not during extreme situations. Not even when Akame overwhelmed him.
This was different.
The woman's smile dimmed slightly.
Her eyes sharpened, just a fraction.
"Now…" she said softly.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Her grip tightened imperceptibly.
Reiji felt genuine, personal fear.