Chapter Text
Geto Suguru was anything but impressionable. The jujutsu world had taught him to expect the unexpected at any moment. Curses? He could handle them. His goofy best friend—the heir of a top clan? Easy. Babysitting a girl destined to be used as a vessel to sustain world peace? He had just been trying to find common ground with her.
But a hooded stranger stopping a bullet mid-air—with what looked like a blood-formed projectile—from an assassin? That was new. Even for him. So he paused, forcing himself to analyze the situation.
Amanai wasn’t faring any better. Her previously downcast expression had shifted into a mix of shock and confusion.
Questions flooded Suguru’s mind, too many to sort through. Where should he even begin? What was that assassin doing here? And more importantly—where was Satoru?
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—the man who had nearly put a bullet in Amanai’s head decided to speak first.
“The fuck are you?”
So much for polite conversation.
The stranger’s face remained hidden beneath his hood. His cursed energy was steady, tightly controlled. It didn’t feel overwhelming, but Suguru knew better than to trust appearances. The strongest sorcerers often suppressed their output, baiting their opponents into underestimating them.
“Ain’t you shameless, old man? Killing an underage girl—for what? Money you’ll just lose on bets?”
The assassin scratched his head with the barrel of his gun, squinting as if trying to place him.
“The hell do you know about me? And those people aren’t any better—sacrificing the same girl to some deity. For what? World peace? News flash—the world’s rotten anyway.”
With every word exchanged, Suguru understood less and less. The only small comfort was that the assassin seemed just as thrown off by the hooded man’s sudden appearance.
Shouldn’t introductions come first?
“Fushiguro,” the hooded man said calmly, “if you don’t stand down, I’ll have no choice but to execute you. I’m past the age for conversation. So choose—walk away, go back to your children, live properly… or die here.”
“Piss off. If you wanna fight me, then drop the act and use your fists.”
The hooded man let out a quiet sigh, muttering under his breath as if he had expected this outcome. Suguru, meanwhile, was growing tired of being ignored.
“Where is Satoru?” he finally asked.
“Gojo’s precious heir?” The assassin’s lips curled into a sadistic grin. “Probably in hell by now, if I’m lucky.”
Something inside Suguru twisted. His expression darkened, something raw and ugly surfacing beneath the calm.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to tear this man apart.
“Don’t worry, kid—he’s alive. Satoru wouldn’t go down so easily. He is the strongest, after all,” the hooded man said, a faint… nostalgic smile tugging at his lips.
Everything happened fast after that.
Fushiguro lunged straight for the kill, targeting the hooded man without hesitation. What followed moved too quickly for Suguru’s eyes to fully track. A flicker—something like a Black Flash—struck toward the older man. They weaved past each other’s blows, fists colliding and slipping by in equal measure. Neither held a clear advantage. Equal speed. Equal strength.
Toji disengaged, landing a short distance away.
“You’ve got a Heavenly Restriction too?”
He couldn’t see cursed energy, so he had to rely on instinct. The man before him was too skilled, too physically powerful to be normal.
“No,” the hooded man replied casually. “Let’s just say I’ve got very good genes. Courtesy of my mom’s planning.”
Toji’s grin widened. “Now this is getting interesting.”
And just like that, he dove back in.
Meanwhile, Geto seized the moment. He took Amanai’s hand and pulled her toward Tengen. Wherever that thing was—barrier, chamber, whatever—it had to be safer than staying here.
“Geto-san… I don’t understand…”
Neither did he.
Without answering, he lifted her into his arms and leapt down. For a brief moment, he felt Fushiguro’s gaze lock onto him—but that distraction seemed to cost the assassin, judging by the impact of another Black Flash.
The hooded man was holding him off well enough. That was all that mattered.
Suguru focused on getting Amanai to safety. Surely Tengen had some hidden chamber… something.
“Suguru Geto.”
The voice echoed directly inside his mind.
He stiffened. Who—?
“Continue downward with Amanai Riko. Go straight. You’ll find me.”
“Tengen,” he muttered under his breath. Who else could it be? Though… he had expected a more masculine voice. Then again, using young girls as vessels might blur something like that.
Still, another problem surfaced—how exactly was he supposed to explain that he wasn’t here to hand Amanai over, but to protect her? The hooded man seemed to be on their side, but that wasn’t enough to trust blindly.
He couldn’t afford mistakes.
Lost in thought, he finally reached the end.
An old woman—no, something like a fusion between a human and a curse—stood waiting, draped entirely in white.
“Geto Suguru. Thank yo—”
“I’m not handing Amanai-san over.”
Tengen didn’t react with surprise.
“I understand. And I won’t try to convince you.” She paused, her expression distant. “But are you prepared to protect her from everything waiting above? Even if I release her as a vessel, people won’t stop coming for her—just in case I change my mind.”
She fell silent for a moment before continuing.
“You are a jujutsu sorcerer. You understand what it means to give your life to protect the weak. I take no joy in using girls as vessels… and more than anyone, I am tired of this endless life. I would welcome death. But as the only one capable of sustaining the jujutsu world and its barriers, I have no right to complain. I simply do what must be done.”
A quiet breath.
“Everyone has a role to fulfill in this life.”
To Suguru Geto, it was all empty. He had already decided. He wasn’t going to let Amanai Riko die.
And that was final.
“You said you wouldn’t try to convince me.”
Amanai had remained silent the entire time, tears threatening to spill. All she wanted to know was whether her maid and Gojo-san were safe.
Tengen fell quiet.
At that moment, the overwhelming cursed energy from earlier suddenly settled, as if tamed. Then, in the next instant, the hooded man appeared beside them.
“Fushiguro’s old man is seriously tough… reminds me of Maki-senpai.”
He seemed to be mumbling more to himself than addressing anyone. Then his gaze shifted—from Tengen, to Amanai, and finally to Geto.
“Hand the girl over to Tengen. It’s for the best. Trust me.”
“Yeah, no.”
“I could kill you too,” he said calmly. “Your life, in exchange for all the ones that would be saved—it’s a small price. Sensei would be a little sad… might even hate me for it.”
For a moment, he looked genuinely conflicted.
Geto frowned. “You keep saying things that make zero sense to us. Try speaking normally. So what is it—are you killing me now, or later?”
Tengen spoke before the tension could snap further.
“May I ask who you are, young man? You weren’t mapped within this world until mere minutes ago.”
If Tengen didn’t know him, then no one did.
That alone was enough to draw Geto’s full attention.
The man reached up and pulled back his hood.
Scars marked his face—one near his mouth, another between his eyes, the latter the most prominent. A faint, almost tired smile rested on his lips. His eyes were hollow, worn in a way that didn’t match his age. He couldn’t have been much older than thirty.
White hair—like Satoru’s.
But his eyes… red. Unnatural.
“Itadori Yuuji,” he said lightly. “My type of woman is tall with a big butt. And I’m from the year 2086, Tengen-sama.”
“…What?”
Suguru Geto was not easily shaken. The jujutsu world had taught him that anything was possible.
And yet—This man shattered every rule that world was built upon.