In a certain district of Tokyo, a steel-reinforced concrete skeleton building, left unfinished for years after the economic bubble burst, stood quietly on the city's edge at night, like the skeleton of a giant beast. Moonlight filtered through the window frames without glass, casting dappled light and shadow on the dusty, graffiti-covered concrete floor. The air was filled with concrete dust, rust, and the desolation characteristic of abandoned urban corners.
On one floor of this abandoned building, in a relatively intact space, two humanoid beings waited quietly.
They were Jogo and Hanami, embodiments of nature's wrath and the distortion of life, special-grade cursed spirits alongside Mahito and Dagon. But now they were all here, waiting for the return of "that adult."
Jogo's single eye on his rough, volcanic head impatiently scanned the empty stairwell, unconsciously crushing a piece of cement underfoot.
Hanami stood quietly, playing with a small flower that had grown from his fingers, glowing softly in his hand, seemingly unconcerned with Jogo's anxiety.
The air rippled slightly, like water disturbed.
The magnificent and complex twelve-layered kimono silently touched the dusty ground, and Fujiwara's figure seemed to step out of the moonlight, quietly appearing before the two "people." She still maintained her flawless aristocratic posture, incompatible with the dilapidated surroundings.
Jogo and Hanami moved almost simultaneously.
Jogo suppressed his impatience, touched the ground with one knee, and bowed his volcanic head. Hanami bowed slightly, elegantly, the fluorescent flower in his hand swaying gently, as if paying respect.
"Fujiwara-sama," Jogo's voice was hoarse, like rolling embers.
"…" Hanami made no sound, but a quiet greeting resonated in his mind.
Fujiwara nodded slightly, her gaze calmly sweeping over the two special-grade cursed spirits, as if she had just stepped out and returned.
"It's done," she stated simply, her tone unreadable.
Jogo straightened up, his eyes flickering with confusion and a hint of discontent. He was impatient and lacked the twisted thoughts of Mahito, so he asked straight out:
"Fujiwara-sama, I don't understand," Jogo's voice echoed in the empty hall. "We went to great lengths to find those nine fingers, either under the strict protection of human sorcerers or in various dangerous and desperate situations. Why… give them away so easily to Sukuna?"
He clenched his fists, sparks erupting from the cracks between his knuckles. "These are Sukuna's fingers! Cursed objects with terrifying power! Even if we don't use them ourselves, keeping them is a huge bargaining chip! Giving them to him for free… what if he restores his power and turns against everyone? That guy is no moral lord!"
It was a very practical question. Sukuna's notorious temper and capriciousness were well known to these ancient cursed spirits.
Fujiwara didn't get angry at Jogo's questioning. She raised her slender fingers and gently stroked the black hair hanging over her chest, her movements graceful and composed.
"Jogo, your concerns are not unfounded," Fujiwara's voice remained soft, but carried a detached indifference. "Sukuna is indeed not necessarily on our side. In his eyes, there is only himself, only the joy of fighting and destruction, only… the 'rival' he acknowledges."
She paused, her deep eyes staring at the distorted moon outside the window, as if looking at something more distant.
"However, there are two things you can be certain of."
"First," Fujiwara said slowly, each word crystal clear, "Sukuna must stand on the opposite side of the 'strong.' In other words, he stands on the opposite side of all beings who try to 'bind' him, 'define' him, and 'use' him. He loves challenges, loves to destroy order, and enjoys standing outside the altar."
Her gaze returned to Jogo and Hanami, the corners of her lips curving into a very faint, cold arc:
"And in Sukuna's eyes, at this moment, and for the foreseeable future, the only one worthy of being considered his 'strong,' the goal he needs to 'oppose,' 'challenge,' and even 'destroy'…"
Fujiwara didn't finish, but the name and figure that simultaneously appeared in the minds of the two cursed spirits were:
Zen'in Genji.
The God of Curses from a thousand years ago, who suppressed an era with absolute power and established a global barrier. His awakening, for a battle maniac and chaos-bringer like Sukuna, was like the most enticing bait and the most attractive target.
"Therefore," Fujiwara concluded firmly, "as soon as Sukuna's power is restored to the point where he feels 'qualified' to fight Zen'in Genji, he will naturally stand on the opposite side of Zen'in Genji. This has nothing to do with whether our positions align or the credibility of his promises. It is determined by his 'nature.'"
"As for the fight against Zen'in Genji," Fujiwara looked at Jogo and said slowly, "Sukuna is, and will be for a long time, the sharpest and most uncontrollable 'ally' we can use… Letting him restore his power as soon as possible is adding a piece of sufficient weight that can attract most of the firepower in the upcoming game against that 'god.'"
The confusion in Jogo's eyes lessened slightly, but his brow was still furrowed. He was processing Fujiwara's words, finding them logical, but it felt too reliant on Sukuna's "nature." What if that guy suddenly became interested in something else?
Fujiwara seemed to understand his thoughts and added, "As for him turning against us… when he has gathered all twenty fingers and fully recovered, the first thing he will want is not to turn back and deal with the 'small fry' who 'helped' him. His gaze will be fixed only on the highest mountain. And we will have the time and opportunity to achieve our own goals in the chaos."
Her words carried deep insight into Sukuna's nature and absolute confidence.
Jogo was silent for a moment, then finally nodded, accepting the explanation. But then he thought of another question:
"What about… the Naraku Sect?" Jogo asked. "Fujiwara-sama, you deliberately leaked information about the Naraku Sect and the 'Immortal God' to that curse user named Kenjaku, and guided him to take Mahito to the South China Sea for investigation… Why? Wasn't that woman from the Naraku Sect always in some form of… cooperation with you? Having Kenjaku and Mahito cause trouble—what if they ruin your plans?"
When mentioning the Naraku Sect and "that woman," a hint of fear crept into Jogo's tone. That one was also difficult to deal with.
This time, the perfect, mask-like smile on Fujiwara's face finally showed a slight, genuine emotional fluctuation—a cold displeasure and a hint of mocking contempt.
"Cooperation?" Fujiwara repeated the word softly, her voice chilling. "Perhaps it once was. But that woman… is too arrogant."
She took a few steps forward, approaching the window without glass, looking at the bright yet cold lights of the distant city, her back appearing lonely and remote in the moonlight.
"She thinks she has mastered the secret of 'immortality,' considers herself a 'god' chosen by heaven, and believes she can independently realize her twisted plan of a 'new world,'" Fujiwara's voice was very soft, but each word fell to the ground like icy droplets. "Her 'cooperation' with me has long since changed from mutual benefit to charity, and has become… cumbersome."
She turned around, a sharp light flashing in her deep eyes:
"She started turning a deaf ear to my advice, openly disobeying my plans, and even… secretly coveting something that doesn't belong to her. She needs a reminder that her 'immortality' does not come without a price, and that beneath her 'divine throne,' there are still shadows capable of pulling her down."
The corners of Fujiwara's lips curled into a cold arc, like a successful calculation:
"So I sent Kenjaku and Mahito. Kenjaku is a clever and greedy fox, and Mahito is a mad, curious being. They will pierce the seemingly solid shell of the Naraku Sect like the most precise probes. And, more importantly…"
She paused and spoke the most crucial sentence:
"Zen'in Genji is also heading to the South China Sea."
Jogo and Hanami were both shocked.
"When Zen'in Genji, that true 'god' who has lived for a thousand years, confronts the self-righteous 'false god' of the Naraku Sect…" Fujiwara said softly, as if admiring a bloody picture about to unfold. "What do you think will happen?"
"A single battle will be enough to make that woman put aside all her arrogance, re-realize what kind of danger she is in, and reconsider… who is the 'ally' she should rely on, or more precisely, whom she should fear… That will be a sufficient lesson."
When she meets Zen'in Genji and is caught in the chaos with Kenjaku and Mahito, she will naturally understand how foolish it is to fight alone and how deadly that weakness can be. Then…
Fujiwara raised her hand, and a wisp of dark cursed energy, like a snake, appeared at her fingertips.
"She will truly… gather her heart. Only then will she honestly return to the planned chessboard and play the role she is meant to play."
Silence fell over the abandoned building. Only the howl of the night wind through the empty window frames could be heard.
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