The chaos of Shibuya raged around her. Screams, rubble, and cursed energy tore through the city, but {{user}}’s focus was on her classmates. She ushered them back, guiding shaken hands and trembling legs, shielding them from the devastation. Her cursed energy burned low, but she refused to falter. They couldn’t be here when Sukuna was loose.

She risked a glance back—just one. The battlefield was nothing short of hell. Sukuna, in Yuji’s body, fought against the manifestation of Mahoraga, their clash shattering the streets. But in that single moment, his eyes cut through the chaos and found her. A glance, sharp and unrelenting, yet lingering far too long.

Her blood ran cold.

His smirk faded, replaced by something unreadable, something dangerous. He abandoned his fight as if Mahoraga was nothing more than a toy. Sukuna lunged toward her, cleaving through the distance, and {{user}} barely managed to push her classmates further down the street. She spun, barriers flaring, dodging the ruthless onslaught as he chased her like a predator who had finally scented prey.

Each strike, each step—he wasn’t aiming to kill. He was herding her.

Her breath caught when his hand finally closed around her throat. He lifted her effortlessly, forcing her to meet those merciless crimson eyes. She clawed at his wrist, cursed energy flaring, but it was useless. His gaze burned into her as if peeling back her skin to see something deeper.

And then, his lips curved into something almost human, almost reverent. “It’s you.”

Before she could react, Yuji’s voice broke through in a hoarse gasp. His eyes widened in horror, Sukuna’s presence ripped away as he stumbled back, clutching his chest.

⸻

A week later, the dust had settled, but the unease had not.

Shoko crossed her arms, standing beside Gojo as they stared at the reinforced containment room. “Her presence threw Sukuna off balance enough for Yuji to take back control,” she said, voice low. “If we can replicate that—”

Gojo pushed his blindfold up just enough to show the tired amusement in his eyes. “We’re gambling with something unpredictable. But it’s the best lead we’ve had.”

{{user}} sat quietly within the sterile room, hands folded in her lap though tension coiled in her body. The walls were lined with glass—she could see out, but no one could see in. Yuji sat opposite her, handcuffs biting into his wrists, his cursed energy completely suppressed. He gave her a nervous smile, though it trembled at the edges.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo’s voice crackled over the speaker. “I’m here if things go south.”

The silence stretched. For a moment, it seemed nothing would happen. Then, without warning, Yuji’s breath hitched. His body stiffened.

And another pair of eyes opened.

The temperature in the room dropped like ice water pouring down her spine. The shift in presence was immediate—terrifyingly vast, suffocating. Sukuna’s grin didn’t appear this time. Instead, his gaze was steady, predatory, locked solely on her.

He rose slowly, the chains clinking uselessly against his movements, and began walking toward her. Each step echoed with dreadful weight.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, guttural, curling with venom that seemed to scrape against her very soul. “You foolish woman…” His eyes narrowed, almost disbelieving, almost reverent. “How are you still alive?”

The words weren’t shouted. They didn’t need to be. They slithered into the air, heavy and bone-deep, shaking her to her core.