"This is no human world; it's a hell overflowing with malice."
Somewhere in Tokyo, inside a seemingly ordinary family restaurant.
The afternoon sun spilled across the tables through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
If one could ignore the eerie silence and the faint scent of blood hanging in the air, it would have been a lovely spot for afternoon tea.
"Hey, Geto."
A one-eyed cursed spirit with a head like a volcano was listlessly fiddling with a pipe.
His voice was raspy and coarse, sounding like two scorching rocks grinding together.
"Is that kid Yoru really that important? You actually went through the trouble of gathering us all here for him."
Sitting across from him was a man with his hair in a bun, wearing a gojo-kesa.
Suguru Geto.
Or rather, Kenjaku, who now occupied this body. He elegantly raised his coffee cup and took a light sip.
A gentle yet unfathomable smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"Jogo, don't underestimate him."
Kenjaku set down the cup, his gaze drifting out the window as if watching an entity in the void.
"He is a variable."
"The only piece on the board that has strayed from its predetermined fate."
"I have reviewed that battle at the Juvenile Detention Center repeatedly."
"He possesses no cursed energy, yet he can sever a Special Grade's regeneration. Even Sukuna has taken an interest in him."
At the mention of Sukuna, Jogo's single eye narrowed, a spark of displeasure flashing in his pupil.
"That old fossil Sukuna has been asleep for a thousand years; his brain must have rusted."
Jogo snorted. A flame suddenly erupted from his pipe, instantly incinerating the tobacco within.
"A monkey without cursed energy is still just a monkey."
"No matter how superb his swordsmanship is, he's nothing more than flammable trash in the face of absolute curses."
"A single spark is all it takes to burn him to ash."
As he spoke, a staggering wave of heat surged from Jogo's body.
The temperature inside the restaurant skyrocketed instantly.
In the distance, several staff members and customers who had been huddled in the corners trembling...
...felt their skin begin to flush under the searing heat, as if they were trapped inside an oven.
"Rather than that Yoru brat..."
Jogo stood up abruptly, his chair screeching harshly against the floor.
"I'm much more interested in the one they call the strongest of the modern era."
"Gojo Satoru."
As he uttered the name, Jogo's killing intent practically manifested into physical pressure.
"If we kill him, the jujutsu side will completely collapse, won't they?"
"Then the world will return to how it should be—to a world that belongs to us."
Kenjaku looked at the murderous Jogo and shook his head helplessly.
"Jogo, Gojo Satoru is not someone you can handle right now."
"What we need is to seal him, not face him head-on."
"To open the Prison Realm, we must keep Gojo Satoru within a four-meter radius of the center for one minute."
"In front of that man, that one minute will feel infinitely long."
"My original plan was to use a mass of monkeys as hostages to tax his brain, but Yoru's existence..."
"He has no cursed energy, which means most barriers and detection methods meant for sorcerers are useless against him."
"If he were to suddenly strike from a perceptual blind spot at the critical moment when we are focused on Gojo..."
"That blade technique of his that severs regeneration might just destroy the Prison Realm—or take my head."
From the corner, a blue-haired youth with stitches across his face—Mahito—suddenly chimed in.
"Sounds interesting."
He was squeezing a small doll made from a transfigured human, a look of innocent cruelty on his face.
"I really want to feel it... I wonder what shape his soul is?"
"Sealing?"
Jogo scoffed with disdain, cutting off Mahito's musings.
"That's how the weak think."
"As long as my firepower is high enough, there is no defense I cannot burn through."
"Limitless? Even something like that will be distorted in the face of absolute heat!"
Seeing Jogo's bursting confidence, Kenjaku didn't argue. He only offered a meaningful smile.
Special Grade Cursed Spirits were always like this.
Born from the purest negative emotions of humanity, they were often more arrogant and blind than humans themselves.
Still, letting Jogo test Gojo Satoru's limits wasn't a bad idea.
After all...
Special Grade Cursed Spirits could be born again and again, so long as human malice remained.
"Since you insist."
Kenjaku pulled a map from his robes and spread it out on the table.
"According to my intel, Gojo Satoru will be leaving the college with Yuji Itadori this afternoon."
"Apparently, the reason is to buy Kikufuku?"
At this point, even Kenjaku's expression couldn't help but twitch.
That man was always so self-indulgent, no matter the situation.
"To buy sweets?"
Jogo felt insulted.
Here he was, a Special Grade Cursed Spirit, discussing a plan to upend the world, and the strongest sorcerer had left his barrier just to buy some dessert?
"There will only be one chance."
Kenjaku's finger tapped a road on the map.
"This is the only path they can take back to the college."
"However, let me warn you, Jogo."
Kenjaku looked up, his narrow fox-like eyes glinting coldly.
"Though reports say Yoru has been training at the college lately..."
"Knowing Gojo's personality, there's no telling if he'll bring the boy along."
"If you encounter him there, do not be careless. His blade is faster than you imagine."
"Hahahahaha!"
Jogo suddenly burst into laughter, the volcano on his head spewing a cloud of black smoke that scorched a large patch of the ceiling.
"It's even better if they're together!"
"It saves me the trouble of hunting him down later!"
"Since he is a variable, he'll be consumed by my flames right alongside Gojo Satoru!"
Jogo turned and strode toward the restaurant's exit.
With every step, his feet left a charred footprint on the floor.
"It just so happens my Ember Insects have been a bit hungry lately."
"Using the flesh and blood of that Sword Saint as a snack should taste quite delicious!"
As Jogo's back receded, Hanami—who had been silent and fiddling with plants the whole time—spoke.
A string of incomprehensible sounds emerged from the cursed spirit.
"######### ('He will die.')"
Kenjaku smiled as he folded the map, draining the now stone-cold coffee in one gulp.
"Who knows?"
"Maybe."
"But at the very least, we'll get a clear look at this Yoru."
In the corner of the restaurant.
The manager, who had long since lost control of his bladder, tremblingly raised his phone to call the police.
However, a second later...
Boom!
A ball of fire appeared out of thin air, instantly reducing him and his phone to ash.
Jogo's silhouette had already vanished at the end of the street.
Only a single, bloodthirsty sentence remained, echoing in the air.
"Prepare your neck and wait for me, Gojo Satoru."
"And you too... monkey with the sword."