Toji Fushiguro stood motionless, black fabric clinging to corded muscle. His eyes—empty as a doll's glass orbs—locked onto Gojo as blood dripped from the Six Eyes user's lips.
"Did we...meet before?" Gojo choked, as if being impaled was merely an inconvenience.
Toji flicked his blade clean, smirk cruel. "Don't bother remembering. I never recall men's names."
"Is that so—"
Gojo's hand snapped up.
BLUE erupted.
The gravitational vortex tore through the air, yanking Toji skyward with a sound like bones grinding in a meat grinder.
At the same moment, Geto moved.
His worm curse burst from the earth beneath Toji, its segmented body splitting open into a gaping maw that swallowed him whole mid-air, slamming shut with a wet crunch that echoed across the courtyard.
"Geto. Naoya," Gojo said, blood dripping down his chin, voice steel. "Take Riko and Kuroi inside. I'll handle him."
Naoya didn't wait for Geto's confirmation.
In a blur of motion, he scooped up Riko and vanished—not toward Tengen's barrier, but deep into the forest, through a series of warped coordinates only he had mapped out.
The air was thick with mist and moss.
Riko's voice was raw with panic as she thrashed against the rope biting into her wrists.
"ARE YOU CRAZY? WHAT ARE YOU—"
SLAP.
Naoya pressed duct tape over her mouth and forced her down against a mossy tree root. "Shut up," he said coolly. "I'm saving your life. Be grateful, commoner."
Riko's eyes narrowed with fury. But then, they went wide.
A shadow shifted behind Naoya.
She stared in disbelief.
There—standing in the clearing—was herself. A perfect replica. Right down to the slight cowlick, the subtle scuff on her left sneaker, the faint freckle under her eye.
Naoya circled the fake Riko like a sculptor admiring his creation.
He poked her cheek. "Disturbingly accurate."
The copy swatted his hand away with a scowl. "You don't need to touch me like that."
Ino. A third grade curse user. Her cursed technique—Fata Morgana—allowed her to mimic anyone's appearance down to the smallest detail, for exactly 24 hours.
But it had rules:
No combat. Illusions shattered with physical trauma.
Only works on those with cursed energy. Meaningless to someone like Toji.
Six Eyes—Naoya wasn't sure if Gojo could see through it. So he'd prepared a contingency.
From an insulated cooler, Naoya pulled out the backup.
A corpse.
Perfectly preserved. Perfectly lifeless.
A dead Riko Amanai, crafted over months using cursed tools, tissue grafts, and strands of her hair.
He hadn't told Ino about the corpse.
He hadn't told her anything beyond: "You're paid to be someone else for a few hours. Learn your lines and smile."
She had no idea this performance might be her last.
Naoya zipped the cooler shut and turned to Ino. "You ready?"
She hesitated. "You're sure this'll work?"
"No," Naoya said cheerfully grabbing her wrist and shot toward Tengen's barrier.
...
As Geto came into view, escorting Kuroi up the temple path, Naoya slowed his pace. The fake Riko kept close behind him, rehearsing her lines in a whisper.
Naoya waved casually. "You're slow. I forgot the way to Tengen's chamber," he said with an easy lie. "Thought I'd go check on Gojo after I handed Riko off. You take her from here."
Geto gave him a sharp glance, but said nothing. He turned toward the steps with "Riko" at his side.
Naoya watched them vanish into the inner sanctum.
Then, with a quiet exhale and a twisted smile, he turned on his heel.
"Now," he muttered, cracking his neck, "let's see if Toji is cooking—"
CRUNCH.
A pebble shifted behind him.
Naoya froze.
Step.
Step.
STEP.
Toji Fushiguro emerged from the shadows, walking with the casual menace of a stalking panther. His empty eyes locked onto Naoya's.
No cursed energy.
No sound.
Just death, walking.
Naoya turned slowly, fingers casually loosening his cufflinks. "Well, well," he drawled, voice smooth as poisoned honey. "What about Gojo? Is he dead?" A raised eyebrow - the only hint of surprise at Toji's speed.
Toji's lip curled. "Yeah, he is." A splatter of crimson dripped from his blade onto the temple steps. "Expected more reaction from you. But Zenins are Zenins in the end." The last word dripped with decades-old hatred.
Naoya stretched his neck left, then right, the pops echoing unnaturally loud in the tense air. "Unfortunately for you, this is going to be your last day breathing. For now."
Toji snorted, hefting his cleaver. "Me and your old man have business. I won't kill you." A pause. "Just step off." His nostrils flared slightly - that familiar Zenin stench of arrogance clinging to Naoya triggering half-formed memories.
Naoya's grin turned feral. "Nuh uh." He tapped his temple mockingly. "Imagine me - next heir of the Zenin clan - stepping aside because some bum homeless man told me to." His shoes scraped against stone as he fell into stance. "How about you kneel instead? I'll make it quick."
The air between them grew heavy. Somewhere, a cicada's drone cut off abruptly.
Toji sighed. "Kids these days." Then he moved.
The blade flashed silver in the moonlight - a perfectly horizontal slash aimed to take Naoya's head clean off. Naoya barely had time to react, his Projection Sorcery activating just in time. The world seemed to slow down, breaking into distinct frames as he twisted his body sideways. The razor-sharp edge missed his neck by millimeters, slicing cleanly through the side of his uniform instead. He could feel the steel's cold kiss against his ribs.
Naoya immediately tried to counter, his hand shooting out to grab Toji's wrist. But Toji was already moving again, effortlessly flipping their positions and using Naoya's own momentum against him. Before Naoya knew it, he was being slammed toward the ground.
At the last possible moment, with the earth rushing up to meet him, Naoya's palm struck the dirt. "Frame Fracture!" he shouted. A burst of the ground exploded outward in precise geometric patterns, the shockwave blasting him back upright while sending Toji skidding backward through the dirt and pine needles.
"Not bad," Toji said as the purple curse around him opened its mouth, revealing the Soul Split Katana. He swapped weapons smoothly.
This guy is way stronger than I thought, Naoya realized, choking back as he felt the raw testosterone radiating off Toji.
Neither moved.
A pinecone fell between them.
They blurred forward simultaneously—
Naoya's fist rocketed toward Toji's face—only for Toji to tilt his head slightly, letting it whistle past his ear. Before Naoya could react, Toji's knee slammed into his gut, lifting him off his feet.
Naoya coughed blood but twisted mid-air, activating Projection Sorcery to freeze his momentum. He landed in a crouch, skidding back as Toji casually flicked blood off his blade.
"Too slow," Toji taunted.
Naoya's eye twitched. He dashed forward again, this time layering his movements—each step fracturing into multiple afterimages, his attacks coming from impossible angles.
Toji didn't even blink.
He weaved through the flurry like a ghost, his sword flashing once—
SHING!
Naoya's sleeve split open, blood welling from a shallow cut.
Tch.
Naoya reset his stance, breathing hard. Toji just stood there, waiting.
"Had enough?" Toji asked, spinning the Soul Split Katana lazily.
Naoya's eye twitched violently. "This is ridiculous," he spat, wiping blood from his split lip. "You're not supposed to be this strong."
And in that moment, he felt it—true danger, mortal and immediate. His body responded instinctively.
his binding vow activated.
His cursed energy surged. Circuits of raw power etched across his skin in pale blue light. His strength, speed, reflexes—tripled instantly. His body blurred, too fast for the eye to follow.
Toji's pupils finally widened—just a little—caught off guard.
Too late.
Naoya's palm slammed against Toji's chest.
Toji's body locked into a single frozen frame—a perfect snapshot in time.
Naoya stepped back, eyes wild with power.
Then he cocked his fist back—
"MAXIMUM OUTPUT: AIR FREEZE!"
He punched.
The blow didn't hit Toji. It struck the air—specifically, the 64 suspended layers of air molecules around Toji that Naoya had frozen with his cursed technique in 0.3 seconds. The moment his punch connected, those layers collapsed in on themselves, releasing an unimaginable pressure wave.
CRACKOOM!!
The air itself ruptured. A seismic blast exploded outward, trees uprooted, earth split, and a thunderclap rolled across the mountains like a bomb had gone off. Birds dropped dead from the sky.
Naoya stood at the epicenter, hand smoking, blood trickling from his nose.
"Got your, Bum ass"