Tokyo Jujutsu High, the basement.
What was once a holding cell for dangerous cursed spirits had been repurposed into a temporary special apartment.
"Hey, you three."
"Are you sure you don't need us to prepare anything for you? Like blood bags, maybe?"
Satoru Gojo, blindfold in place, leaned over the railing with curiosity, watching the three Special Grade Cursed Wombs huddled around a television playing video games.
Indeed.
Under Yoru's guarantee, the Cursed Womb: Death Painting brothers were staying at Jujutsu High for the time being.
Officially, they were under containment and observation, but in reality, these three were bigger shut-ins than the students.
"We don't need that stuff."
Choso didn't even look back as he manipulated the controller, his character on screen landing a complex combo.
"Yoru said that as long as we don't kill anyone, we can eat whatever we want."
"And besides..."
"Pizza is actually pretty good."
With that, Eso handed him a slice of fresh cheese pizza while Kechizu sat nearby, busy chugging cola and belching.
The sight made Gojo's lip twitch.
"These are Special Grade Cursed Wombs...?"
"They're just three middle-aged shut-ins corrupted by modern civilization!"
...
Evening fell.
Large grills were set up across the school's athletic field.
It was a celebration for the peaceful resolution of the Death Paintings incident, and a chance to unwind before the upcoming flurry of missions.
Yoru had suggested hosting an outdoor barbecue party.
The first-year trio, the second-year upperclassmen, and even Kento Nanami—who usually only cared about overtime—had been dragged along.
Sizzle!
The charcoal flames licked the marbled Wagyu beef, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.
The one manning the grill was none other than the usually aloof Sword Saint himself.
"It smells amazing!"
"Yoru! I want the biggest one!"
Nobara Kugisaki brandished her fork with zero grace, her eyes locked onto a steak sizzling with oil on the grill.
Yuji Itadori fanned the flames while sneaking a few pieces of grilled vegetables on the side.
Megumi Fushiguro looked annoyed, but his body was honest as he lined up with a plate.
"Calm down, there's enough for everyone."
Yoru flipped the meat with practiced ease, his expression softening.
This long-lost sense of domestic warmth reminded him of the cozy home from his previous life.
Though it was only a fleeting moment, he truly cherished this feeling of everyone gathered together.
No cursed spirits, no slaughter.
Only laughter and good food.
"Um..."
A hesitant voice spoke up from beside him.
Choso had approached with his two brothers, moving cautiously.
Despite being accepted, their unique status still made them feel a bit out of place.
"If you don't mind..."
"I'd like to try that too."
Choso pointed at a skewer of freshly grilled chicken wings in Yoru's hand, a hint of longing in his eyes.
It wasn't because he was hungry.
It was because the scent triggered a distant, warm memory.
"Here."
Yoru smiled and handed over a large plate.
"There's plenty more if you're still hungry."
Choso blinked, took the plate, and took a clumsy bite.
In that moment.
A strange sensation washed over him.
He instinctively looked toward Yuji Itadori, who was currently fighting Nobara for a piece of meat.
That boy's smile, that carefree attitude...
For some reason.
Choso's heart skipped a beat.
A thrumming deep within his blood gave rise to an absurd yet undeniably real thought.
'Brother...'
He murmured to himself.
There was no evidence, and logic told him it was impossible.
Yet in that instant, he sensed an aura from Sukuna's Vessel that felt even more familiar than Eso or Kechizu!
It was the scent of family!
"What is it, Big Brother?"
Kechizu asked, mid-chicken-leg.
"It's... nothing."
Choso shook his head, suppressing the shock in his heart.
Now wasn't the time.
But the way he looked at Yuji had completely changed.
If only for the sake of this potential brother, he would never let that Brain get away with its plans!
Night deepened.
The party gradually wound down.
The others drifted back to their dorms in small groups, leaving only Yoru to clean up the remains of the feast.
The moonlight illuminated his face, revealing a faint trace of worry.
'System.'
Yoru thought.
[HOST, I AM HERE.]
The cold mechanical voice responded immediately.
'How much longer... until that moment?'
[30 DAYS REMAIN UNTIL THE OUTBREAK OF THE SHIBUYA INCIDENT.]
[COUNTDOWN HAS COMMENCED.]
Yoru took a deep breath.
He looked up at the waning moon, Shiranui trembling slightly in his hand.
While everything seemed peaceful on the surface, with everyone enjoying their rare daily lives...
He knew better.
This was merely the final calm before the storm.
At that same moment.
Deep within a hidden, shadowed washitsu somewhere in Tokyo.
Behind several screens painted with cursed sigils sat several indistinct figures.
Those were the highest authorities of the jujutsu world—the higher-ups of the General Headquarters.
"Yoru and Satoru Gojo have become far too close."
An aged, raspy voice echoed in the room, laced with blatant murderous intent.
"The Death Paintings were meant to be sealed, but now they've become their muscle. This is a grave violation of the taboos."
"We cannot allow that boy, Yoru, to grow any further. His existence has slipped entirely beyond our control."
Another voice sneered:
"No need to worry. That person has already sent word. On October 31st, in Shibuya—all variables will end there."
"Whether it be Satoru Gojo or Yoru... that vessel will prepare their final resting place."
"For the sake of order in the jujutsu world, any sacrifice is worth it."
Chilling laughter echoed softly through the room, like a snake slithering through tall grass.
Meanwhile, tens of kilometers away, deep within the Shibuya subway station.
A man wearing five-paneled Buddhist robes, with stitches across his forehead, stood silently in the pitch-black tunnel.
Before him floated a grotesque cube covered in eyes.
"Thirty days, is it?"
Suguru Geto lightly stroked the surface of the Prison Realm, his eyes glittering with manic anticipation.
"...I truly want to see if you can still swing that blade when you've reached the depths of despair."
"It's about time this decayed era was brought to a close."
Rumble!
A sudden roll of thunder echoed from the distant horizon.
The once-clear night sky had been swallowed by thick, dark clouds at some point.
The wind began to pick up.
A damp breeze carrying the scent of blood ruffled the hair on Yoru's forehead.
He slowly tightened his fist, a sharp, cold glint flashing in his eyes.
"Come then, Kenjaku."
"No matter what you've prepared..."
"I will use this blade to take your ridiculous ideals, along with your brain..."
"And cut them into pieces!"