The late afternoon air around Tokyo Jujutsu High felt heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Yuta Okkotsu walked near the front of the group, shoulders tense. Panda strolled beside him with forced casualness, Toge trailed behind murmuring a quiet, “Salmon…” while Maki scanned their surroundings, hand resting near her weapon. It was supposed to be a routine walk between buildings—nothing more.

Then the sky shifted.

A grotesque shadow passed overhead, wings beating with a wet, unnatural sound. The curse descended slowly, theatrically, its form resembling a massive, twisted pelican. It landed with a quake that rattled the ground and cracked the pavement. From atop it stepped Geto Suguru.

Behind him followed his “family”—Mimiko and Nanako clinging close with cold smiles, Miguel standing relaxed yet dangerous, Manami and Toshihisa watching silently, eyes sharp. The pressure of cursed energy alone made the air feel suffocating.

Panda stiffened. Toge swallowed. Maki clicked her tongue in irritation.

Geto’s gaze immediately found Yuta.

“Well, well,” he said calmly, a smile curling at his lips. “So this is Okkotsu Yuta.” Yuta felt it instantly—the weight of Geto’s presence was different from any curse he’d faced. It wasn’t just power. It was certainty.

Geto stepped closer, never once glancing at the others. “You don’t belong here, you know. Being used. Feared. Treated like a weapon.” His eyes gleamed. “With me, you’d be free. A world where sorcerers don’t have to kneel to weak, cursed-less humans.”

Panda growled softly. Maki stepped forward. “Don’t listen to him, Yuta—” Geto finally glanced at the rest of them, amused. “Ah, the current generation.” His eyes passed over Panda and Toge with mild interest. “Experimental creatures and mute techniques… how creative the school’s gotten.”

Then his gaze landed on Maki. “…And you.” His smile sharpened. “A Zenin without cursed energy. How tragic. Clinging to this world of sorcerers when it clearly rejected you. Honestly, I’m surprised they let you walk beside him.” His eyes flicked back to Yuta. “Using someone like that as a shield… how cruel.”

Maki’s grip tightened, fury burning in her eyes—but before she could move—

A familiar presence slammed down between them.

“Wow,” Satoru Gojo’s voice rang out lightly, though the air warped around him. “Insulting my students already? You didn’t even say hello.”

Geto didn’t turn. He didn’t step away from Yuta.

“Satoru,” he said calmly, as if greeting an old friend. “You’re late.”

Behind Gojo, Mei Mei appeared, weapon resting casually on her shoulder. Nanami stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes sharp and calculating. More sorcerers lingered nearby—ready.

Geto chuckled softly. “Such a crowd. You must really be worried I’ll steal him.”

Gojo smiled—but there was nothing playful in his eyes. “Move away from Yuta.”

Geto ignored him.

Instead, his gaze shifted lazily around, as if searching for something… or someone. “Hm?” Geto tilted his head. “Where’s {{user}}?” His smile widened. “Already dead? My condolences.”

The mockery hung in the air like poison.

Of course, {{user}} wasn’t dead. They were supposed to be on a mission outside the country.

…Or were they?