At Jujutsu High, the atmosphere in the private study was thick enough to cut with a cursed tool.
"So, you let Jogo escape. Is that right?"
Satoru Gojo shuddered at the tone of his brother's voice. He sat perfectly upright, knees tucked neatly under him on the tatami mat, wearing an expression of practiced, wide-eyed innocence.
"Brother, I literally twisted his head off. I really did follow through!" Satoru defended himself, waving his hands frantically. "But then this tree-branch curse popped out of nowhere and hit me with a technique that suppressed my hostility. And since I was carrying Itadori-kun at the time... it was unavoidable that they slipped away!"
Souma Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Fine. I suppose I can't blame you for that."
He wasn't entirely surprised that Hanami had rescued Jogo; Kenjaku was likely lurking nearby as well. Souma had nearly finished off Kenjaku and Hanami himself recently, yet they had still managed to vanish.
Kenjaku was a schemer who had survived a thousand years. Such people valued their lives above all else. He might not be the pinnacle of raw combat power, but when it came to escape routes, the man was like a magician with a bottomless hat—always another trick up his sleeve.
To truly end Kenjaku, Souma knew the most reliable method: a coordinated strike. Himself, Satoru, and Suguru would have to move simultaneously, trapping the ancient sorcerer and vaporizing him before he could even blink.
Should I set a trap? Souma wondered. He contemplated using the Sukuna fingers stored at the school as bait to lure Kenjaku out. He wasn't one for indecision; his philosophy was simple: pull the weeds by the roots. Strike while the enemy is weak.
"But it's going to be tricky..."
Back at the sun-drenched beach, Hanami and Mahito were in the middle of a beach volleyball match. Dagon, still in his octopus-like cursed womb form, acted as the referee.
The ball they were using was Jogo's severed head.
"Hey! You bastards! Put me down!" Jogo shrieked in impotent rage as he was spiked over the net.
Nearby, Kenjaku—still wearing the skin of Kaori Itadori—watched them with a neutral expression. "So, Jogo. How was Satoru Gojo's strength?"
Hanami caught Jogo's head with both hands, turning his single eye to face Kenjaku. The fire that had burned in Jogo when he departed was gone, replaced by a grim, heavy silence. Recalling the sheer, crushing weight of Satoru's Domain, Jogo couldn't help but feel the lingering tremor of a near-death experience.
"That guy... he's strong. I was completely outmatched." Jogo paused, his voice dropping. "Hey, Kenjaku. Are you absolutely certain Souma Gojo is even stronger than Satoru? I literally cannot imagine a monster more powerful than what I just faced."
Kenjaku offered a thin smile. "Why don't you go find out for yourself once your body regenerates?"
"..." Jogo chose the path of wisdom and shut his mouth. If Souma was truly the monster Kenjaku claimed, Jogo's next trip would end with the other curses attending his funeral.
Hanami suddenly spoke up. "Kenjaku, we only have one Prison Realm. Are we truly going to use it on Souma Gojo?"
Kenjaku nodded. "Of course. He is the strongest. Using it on him provides the highest 'return on investment'."
Hanami hesitated. "The thing is... will we ever find an opening to trap him? And even if we succeed, is the Prison Realm... truly capable of holding a monster like that?"
"..." Kenjaku fell silent. In a thousand years, she had never encountered a being like Souma. That feeling of existing on a different plane of life altogether—only the Sukuna of the Heian era had possessed that same aura. To be honest, she lacked confidence in finding the time required to activate the Prison Realm in Souma's presence.
"Then what do you suggest?"
"Satoru Gojo or Suguru Geto!" Hanami said firmly. "If we want to balance the probability of success with the impact on the jujutsu world, trapping one of those two is the most logical path."
Kenjaku pondered for a moment before nodding slowly. "Then Satoru Gojo it is." For a millennium, the Six Eyes had been her greatest obstacle. Furthermore, sealing his younger brother might be the only way to genuinely rattle Souma Gojo's composure.
"And what about the Vessel for Lord Sukuna?"
Uraume, usually silent, stepped forward. Their eyes were cold as ice. If it weren't for the goal of resurrecting Sukuna, Uraume would never have associated with someone like Kenjaku. Kenjaku was a snake in the grass—one never knew when she would strike.
Kenjaku sighed. "Yuji Itadori was the vessel I prepared, but he is currently tucked away inside Jujutsu High. Trying to snatch him from under the noses of the 'Strongest Trio' is nothing more than a pipe dream."
Frost began to form on Uraume's fingertips. "What is that supposed to mean? Are you abandoning the resurrection of my Lord?"
"Stay your hand," Kenjaku said, turning away. "In a thousand years, I haven't been so foolish as to prepare only one vessel. Follow me."
She led the group deep into the base to a vast, hidden underground chamber. In the center stood a massive glass vat filled with translucent fluid. Floating inside was a naked young man, his body crisscrossed with tubes and a breathing mask covering his face. He had spiky, light-pink hair that bore a striking resemblance to Yuji Itadori.
"This is a vessel I encountered three hundred years ago. His compatibility with Sukuna is nearly identical to Yuji's. I call him... Daiten."
"Then why haven't you fed him the fingers yet?" Uraume demanded.
"Three centuries of stasis have taken their toll. To wake him and ensure his body can withstand the descent of Sukuna, he must absorb a massive amount of cursed energy."
Uraume frowned. "How do we achieve that?"
Kenjaku's smile turned dark and jagged. "Cursed energy is birthed from human negativity: greed, fear, jealousy, resentment... And the best way to harvest those emotions is through endless death and bloodshed."
Mahito let out a twisted, gleeful laugh. "Killing people? Oh, I like the sound of that!"
Jogo, still just a head, joined in the laughter. "If it's slaughter you want, I'll burn all of Japan to ash!"
Kenjaku sneered inwardly. Cursed spirits truly are simple-minded.
"No," Kenjaku commanded. "While the goal is chaos and death, we cannot forget Souma Gojo and his allies. We must lure the 'Strongest Trio' out of Tokyo."
"Dagon, Hanami, Jogo—each of you will go to Shikoku, Kyushu, and Hokkaido respectively. With your power, the Jujutsu world will have no choice but to deploy those three to stop you. But remember: you cannot win against them. The moment you engage, focus on survival and evasion. Your job is to stall them for as long as possible."
Hanami and Dagon nodded. Jogo, though he hated taking orders, didn't object this time.
"Mahito, your ability is perfect for causing widespread panic. You will stay in Tokyo. Do as you wish; the bigger the commotion, the better. Uraume and I will assist you from the shadows."
Mahito licked his lips, his eyes bright with malice.
"Everyone!" Kenjaku's voice rose, vibrating with a manic intensity. "This is the grand ritual to welcome back the King of Curses. Kill without restraint! I want to see rivers of blood!"
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