The vast, crystalline Domain dissolved, returning the world to the ruined, moonlight-drenched hallway of the school. Souma Gojo glanced at Yuji Itadori and Megumi Fushiguro, both of whom were still standing in a daze, processing the literal and figurative soul-cleansing they had just witnessed.
"Stop daydreaming," Souma said, his voice snapping them back to reality. "Where's Sukuna's finger?"
"Oh! Right here!" Yuji fumbled with his pocket and pulled out the gnarled, dark-purple digit.
Souma looked at the object—a thousand-year-old mummified piece of flesh now coated in a teenager's saliva—and felt a wave of genuine revulsion. He had no intention of touching that "chicken claw." He produced a specialized talisman and gestured for Megumi to take over the sealing process.
"Brother! Over here!"
A familiar, boisterous voice cut through the silence. Satoru Gojo appeared, a black blindfold covering his eyes and a silly grin plastered across his face. In one hand, he swung a box of high-end desserts.
Souma didn't offer a greeting. Instead, he delivered a sharp, echoing flick to Satoru's forehead: a classic display of elder brotherly "affection."
"Your own students were in mortal danger, and I'm the one left cleaning up your mess," Souma remarked dryly.
Satoru crouched on the ground, clutching his head in exaggerated agony. "Forgive me! I honestly had no idea things would escalate this quickly!" He looked around at the sheer scale of the destruction. For a battle to leave this much debris despite Souma's presence meant the enemies were far from ordinary.
Souma recounted the encounter: the involvement of Kenjaku in their mother's body, the presence of the forest curse, and the release of the Crimson Hannya.
"Listen, Satoru," Souma said, his tone turning heavy and uncharacteristically grave. "A storm is coming. A force unlike anything we've faced is gathering. You need to be ready. Do not be careless."
He placed a hand on Satoru's shoulder. "Being the strongest means you can protect yourself, but it doesn't automatically mean you can protect your students or your friends. Remember that."
Seeing the rare, sharp edge of worry in Souma's eyes, Satoru dropped his playful act. He nodded solemnly. "I understand."
"Good. Then I'm off," Souma said, his voice returning to its usual irritated clip. "Ever since I became the Clan Head, the paperwork alone has been enough to make me want to burn the world down. It's a headache."
With a final wave, Souma vanished into the night.
"Man, getting lectured by my big brother... he could at least give me some face in front of my kids," Satoru muttered, scratching his head. He then turned to Yuji, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Megumi is officially enrolling soon. Yuji, how would you like to be his classmate?"
"Eh?"
Within the shadowed halls of the Jujutsu higher-ups' headquarters, a heated debate was underway.
"I refuse to allow it! I propose the immediate execution of this boy!"
"Agreed. Even if he hasn't swallowed the finger yet, he is a vessel for Sukuna. We must eliminate the threat before it manifests!"
"The reports say Kenjaku himself created this vessel. Who knows what other traps are hidden inside him? Death is the only safe option!"
The elders bickered, their voices high and thin with fear. Most were adamant: Yuji Itadori had to die. Even without the finger in his stomach, the mere existence of a "perfect vessel" was a nightmare they couldn't tolerate.
As the noise reached a fever pitch, the room slowly fell silent. One by one, the elders turned their gaze toward the seat reserved for the head of the Gojo clan.
Souma Gojo sat there, leaning back with a bored expression. As a Clan Head, he was now a member of the high council, and he had already begun carving out his own faction. However, the influence of the conservatives ran deep. Their power was a web of bureaucracy and tradition that even Souma couldn't simply cut away.
Using force was easy, but these men were cunning. They fought with red tape and shadow-plays. Their people ran the internal institutions: if Souma killed them all, the infrastructure of the jujutsu world would collapse, leading to mass panic. For now, he had to play their game, moving his pieces slowly.
But absolute power still had its perks. In this room, everyone had to wait for him to speak.
Seeing that they had reached a consensus of execution, Souma spoke, his voice quiet but echoing with authority. "Yuji Itadori will enroll as a freshman. He will become a sorcerer and spend his life exorcising curses."
A ripple of unease went through the elders. He was protecting the boy.
Ogi Zenin, representing his clan, narrowed his eyes. "Gojo-dono, I hope you understand. We seek his execution for the safety of our world, not out of spite. If you are simply being contrarian for its own sake, I urge you to reconsider."
Souma didn't respond immediately. Instead, he began to laugh. It was a loud, mocking sound that dripped with contempt, making the elders shift uncomfortably in their seats.
"Safety? Don't make me laugh," Souma said, standing up. "You're just terrified that Sukuna will come back and slaughter every one of you. You're afraid for your own necks. At least have the dignity to admit you're cowards."
"Kenjaku has lived for a thousand years. Do you really think he only prepared one vessel? Do you think he's as incompetent as you are? Use those shriveled brains of yours for once."
Souma walked toward the center of the room. "As for Sukuna... if he comes back, I will be the one to fight him."
He paused, his eyes scanning the room with a predatory intensity. "I've made my decision. Who agrees? And who wants to be the first to object?"
Silence. Not a single elder dared to meet his gaze. Souma's arrogance was a mountain they couldn't climb.
Back at the sun-drenched beach within the Domain, Jogo sat smoking his pipe. He looked up sharply as the entrance warped.
Kenjaku and Hanami staggered into view, leaning on each other. As soon as they reached the sand, they collapsed, both coughing up dark, viscous fluid.
"Hanami!"
Jogo, Mahito, and Dagon rushed to Hanami's side, completely ignoring Kenjaku, who lay facedown in the sand.
"What happened?" Jogo demanded.
"Souma... Souma Gojo," Hanami rasped, purple blood leaking from the corners of their mouth. "We... we ran into him during the mission."
Kenjaku pushed herself up with a groan, her face pale. "My calculations were off. Souma Gojo's strength... it exceeds even my most pessimistic projections."
"You bastard!" Jogo lunged forward, grabbing Kenjaku by the collar. "If Hanami wasn't still breathing, I'd burn you to a cinder right here!"
"Wait, Jogo," Hanami intervened weakly. "Don't blame her. Souma was simply too powerful. If she hadn't summoned the Crimson Hannya to cover our retreat, we wouldn't have made it back at all."
Jogo slowly released his grip, his head venting steam in a fit of agitation. "Is this Souma Gojo really that strong?"
"Yes," Hanami whispered. "He broke us both effortlessly."
"And if it were me?" Jogo asked, a confident, jagged smirk appearing on his face.
As the strongest of the four Disaster Spirits, Jogo possessed an immense pride. Even if Souma had beaten the other two, Jogo believed that his flames could burn away any obstacle.
Kenjaku looked at him, her expression a mix of pity and disbelief. Is this curse serious right now?
She shook her head slowly. "I don't think you could win against Souma Gojo, Jogo."
"Ha?" Jogo's head erupted into flames. "Are you mocking me?"
"Jogo, he might be right," Hanami added, trying to be gentle. They knew that saying "Souma would crush you like a bug" might hurt their companion's fragile ego.
Mahito and Dagon nodded in agreement. "If Hanami says he's that strong, maybe we shouldn't take risks, big brother Jogo."
"Hmph!" Jogo took another puff from his pipe, cooling down slightly. But then, a thought struck him. The legendary "Strongest Trio" had three members. Souma was the top, but surely the others weren't as impossible.
"Hey, Kenjaku! What about the brother, Satoru Gojo? How does he compare?"
Kenjaku paused. "Well... it's safe to say Satoru is not as powerful as Souma."
"Oh?" Jogo smiled, a cruel, predatory look in his eye. "And tell me, Kenjaku... how many of Sukuna's fingers is my strength equivalent to?"
"Roughly eight or nine."
Jogo let out a dark, satisfied laugh. "Souma Gojo dared to harm Hanami. I'll make him understand what it feels like to lose those closest to him. Kenjaku, keep your Prison Realm for Souma."
He stood up, his aura burning with the heat of a volcano. "As for Satoru Gojo... I'll kill him myself."
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