Chapter 103: The Death of Hanami
"Friend of the forest?"
Satoru Gojo's voice was colder than the wind rolling across a frozen plain.
"Go look for that kind of thing in hell."
For the first time since its birth, Hanami understood fear.
It was a Special Grade Cursed Spirit. An incarnation of nature itself. Its body possessed monstrous durability, and its vitality was so tenacious that ordinary damage meant almost nothing to it.
Yet the instant Gojo's hands closed around the branches growing from its eyes, Hanami felt like an insect pinned beneath the finger of a god.
There was no escape.
No resistance.
Only the overwhelming certainty that it was going to die.
"Simple Domain!"
Hanami let out a desperate roar.
A dark red film of cursed energy instantly wrapped around its body. Simple Domain, a technique capable of neutralizing cursed techniques, spread from Hanami's body in an attempt to force its way through Gojo's untouchable Limitless.
At the same time, the concrete beneath their feet shattered.
Countless thick roots erupted from below like the jaws of a giant flytrap, writhing madly as they shot toward Gojo and the surrounding hostages.
If Limitless is neutralized, I can touch him.
If the hostages are in danger, he will have to let go.
That was Hanami's gamble.
It bet that Satoru Gojo would release his grip in order to protect the ordinary people around them.
It lost.
"How naive."
Gojo did not even blink.
He allowed the edge of Hanami's Simple Domain to brush against his clothes, his expression unchanged.
"Your strength is lacking."
His fingers tightened.
"And apparently, so is your brain."
Crack.
The sound was crisp, almost delicate.
Yet in the chaos of screams and cursed energy, it rang out with horrifying clarity.
Gojo's hands were like steel clamps. Ignoring Hanami's defense, he tore out the branch-like growths that marked its weakness.
"So this is your weak point?"
His tone was almost conversational.
"Easier than pulling weeds."
Splurt!
Purple blood gushed out like a fountain.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
Hanami's shriek tore through the platform.
It was not merely the pain of flesh being damaged. It was agony that dug into the core of its existence, as if its soul were being ripped apart by the roots.
"Hanami!"
Jogo's single eye went bloodshot.
He saw everything.
He saw the moment Gojo ripped out Hanami's weak point. He saw the forest curse stagger, its massive body convulsing under an unbearable pain.
For an instant, Jogo wanted to rush forward.
But reason froze his legs.
Going in now would not save Hanami.
It would only mean dying with it.
Gojo did not give Hanami time to recover.
His figure blurred, leaving an afterimage in place.
A heartbeat later, he appeared beside Hanami and pressed one hand against its massive head.
A cruel smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"I told you, didn't I?"
His fingers dug in.
"When it comes to weeds…"
Cursed energy gathered in his palm, compressed to a terrifying density.
"I don't show mercy."
Boom!
Gojo slammed Hanami into the subway wall.
The impact alone was enough to make the entire platform tremble, but the true killing blow came from the technique compressed at point-blank range.
Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.
There was no need for an incantation.
No need for a grand gesture.
At this distance, the attraction of Blue was condensed into something horrifying, like a miniature black hole detonating directly against Hanami's chest.
Bang!
The wall collapsed.
Concrete burst outward.
Steel supports screamed as they twisted.
Hanami's body, once harder than iron and tougher than any ordinary curse could dream of being, failed to hold its shape. Its wooden armor shattered. Its flesh collapsed inward, crushed and folded as if caught beneath a hydraulic press.
Its limbs bent.
Its torso caved.
Its head twisted.
Then everything was pulverized.
There were no final words.
No last counterattack.
The Special Grade Cursed Spirit that had stood arrogantly moments ago was reduced to a smear of purple-black sludge embedded deep in the subway wall.
Hanami, the first of the Special Grades on the platform, was dead.
For a few seconds, Underground Level Five fell silent.
Even the civilians seemed to forget how to scream.
Gojo shook the blood from his hand, as if he had only dirtied it on a troublesome plant.
"Next."
He turned his head.
Those brilliant blue Six Eyes locked onto Jogo.
"Is it you?"
Jogo froze.
"Ha… na… mi…?"
He stared at the stain on the wall, his voice trembling.
The Hanami who had possessed even greater durability than himself.
The Hanami whose vitality was absurd even among Special Grades.
Gone.
Just like that.
In less than a minute.
Jogo's single eye widened until it almost seemed ready to split.
Hanami died?
It did not even last a full minute?
This was the strongest of the modern era?
This was Satoru Gojo?
"Mon… ster…"
Jogo's body shook.
He wanted to run.
Every instinct screamed at him to flee.
But beneath Gojo's gaze, even lifting a foot felt impossible.
"What's wrong?"
Gojo took a step toward him.
Then another.
Each footstep struck Jogo's nerves like a hammer.
"You were making a lot of noise earlier."
Gojo's tone was light, but his eyes were merciless.
"Something about sealing me here?"
He spread his arms slightly in an arrogant, almost inviting gesture.
"Come on."
He smiled.
"I'm right here."
The air turned colder.
"Show me what else you've prepared."
His voice dropped.
"And if you have nothing left…"
Gojo's gaze sharpened.
"Then die."
Jogo's cursed energy flared in panic.
He had no confidence left, but he also had no path of retreat. Just as desperation pushed him toward one final suicidal struggle, a strange mechanical roar echoed from the depths of the tunnel.
Buzz…
The sound cut through the suffocating tension.
Gojo stopped.
The Six Eyes shifted toward the darkness beyond the platform.
A train was approaching.
Its old headlights glowed a dim, sickly yellow as it rolled out from the tunnel. The wheels scraped against the rails with a shrill metallic cry, unbearably loud in the sudden silence.
"Oh?"
Gojo narrowed his eyes.
"So this is your backup plan?"
Jogo was stunned at first.
Then wild joy burst across his face.
"It's here…"
His voice shook.
"It's finally here!"
He spun back toward Gojo, fear twisting into madness.
"Satoru Gojo! Did you think you had already won?"
Jogo laughed, raw and hysterical.
"The real hell…"
The train slowed.
"…starts now!"
Clack.
The train came to a stop.
The doors opened.
A nauseating stench spilled onto the platform.
It was not the ordinary smell of blood or corpses.
It was fouler.
Wetter.
More intimate and revolting.
The smell of twisted souls.
Gojo's brow furrowed.
Inside the train, packed so densely they were pressed against the windows, were not humans anymore.
They were things that had once been human.
Deformed limbs. Warped faces. Spines bent at wrong angles. Mouths stretched open in soundless wails. Transfigured Humans, dozens upon dozens of them, crammed together like cargo from a nightmare.
And crouching atop that living pile was a Cursed Spirit with stitches across his face.
Mahito rested his chin on one hand, several shrunken humans writhing between his fingers like toys.
His smile was innocent.
Cruel.
Delighted.
"Hi, Satoru Gojo!"
He waved as if greeting an old friend.
"Happy Halloween."
His eyes curved with malice.
"This is the gift I prepared for you."
He tilted his head.
"Do you like it?"
Before Gojo could answer, the Transfigured Humans poured out of the train like a flood.
They spilled across the platform in a screaming tide, lunging straight toward the trapped civilians.
The situation reversed in an instant.
Gojo stood where he was, surrounded by the shape of hell.
The civilians screamed.
Jogo laughed.
Mahito smiled.
And in Gojo Satoru's blue eyes, something finally ignited.
Not irritation.
Not contempt.
Rage.
"You people…"
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
"…have really pissed me off."
.....
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