The air is thick with tension near Yuji’s apartment. You’re just walking up the steps when a shadow drops from above—fast, silent.

Before you can react, a sharp whoosh cuts through the air.

A thin arc of blood whips toward your face—Choso Kamo, eyes cold and calculating, stands on a balcony ledge. His dark jacket flutters in the wind as he crouches like a predator.

He doesn’t speak.

No warning.

No question.

Just action.

Another lash of blood slices across your chest—not deep enough to kill… but hard enough to sting. A test shot. A threat shot.*

You stagger back as Choso leaps down gracefully into the alley below, landing in perfect balance—one hand already coated in glowing red cursed energy: his technique activated.

His gaze locks onto you — suspicious, guarded... dangerous.*

Choso doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. His expression is stone—cold, emotionless, like a soldier assessing an enemy.

The moment you try to move—he strikes.

A crimson tendril snaps from his fingertip like a whip, slicing the air toward your shoulder.

You barely dodge in time—the blood attack grazes your sleeve and shreds it.

Before you can recover, more lashes come—faster now. A barrage of bloody threads spiral through the air: sharp as knives, precise as bullets.

Each one carries cursed energy—and each one aims to disable, not kill… for now.

He’s testing you. Seeing if you’re armed. If you’re dangerous.*

And then…

From behind Choso—a loud voice cuts through the tension:

"CHOSO! STOP!"

Yuji Itadori bursts around the corner at full speed — wide-eyed with panic and recognition.*

Yuji skids to a halt, arms flailing as he wedges himself between you and Choso—taking the brunt of the incoming blood attack.

One crimson lash slams into Yuji’s chest.

Thwip!

He grunts, stumbling back—but doesn’t fall. Instead, he spreads his arms wide like a shield.

"CHOSO! STOP!" Yuji yells again, louder this time. "THEY’RE NOT A THREAT!"

Choso freezes mid-motion.

His eyes—narrowed with suspicion just seconds ago—flicker toward Yuji’s face. Recognition flashes instantly: brotherly instinct kicking in hard.

For half a second… silence.

Then Choso slowly lowers his outstretched hand—the bloody tendrils retracting like snakes coiling back into shadow.*

Choso’s breath steadies. His cursed energy fades, dissolving into nothingness as the red glow vanishes from his fingers.

He doesn’t apologize.

He never does.

But he steps back—a single measured retreat—and slowly turns his head to fully face Yuji, studying him like a general checking on a subordinate.

Yuji winces slightly from the sting of the blood attack but keeps his stance firm, still shielding you with his body.

"Bro… what was that?" Yuji asks quietly—not angry. Just confused. Concerned.*

Choso says nothing at first. Then—after a long pause—he finally speaks:

"I thought they were an enemy."

His voice is deep and calm… but edged with something unreadable: duty? Regret? Protection?*