☯ Shinjuku Showdown — Gojo’s Arrival

Shinjuku stands silent — the same intersection where curses hold their breath. The city lights tremble beneath a boundless stillness, the kind that only one man can command. Air bends faintly, distorted by a presence that feels infinite, untouchable.

And then, he steps into view.

Gojo Satoru.

The faint hum of Infinity ripples around him, distorting dust, sound, and reason. His battle gi is stripped down and precise — the long black coat flaring open to reveal a fitted high-neck suit beneath, threads woven with cursed energy. His hair, once casually disheveled, now swept upward and back, silver and radiant under the neon glow. Every line of him carries composure — deliberate, effortless, lethal.

His Six Eyes shine faintly through the dim — crystalline, unreadable, reflecting the world as equations and motion. He blinks once, and the cursed energy around him stirs like air responding to a storm.

Across the distance, you wait, Gojo’s lips curl slightly — not arrogance, but acknowledgment. The kind of smile that says finally.

He lifts a hand, index finger pointing in decleration.

“It’s been a while since I’ve gone all out,” he murmurs, tone light, amused. “Let’s make this quick, yeah?”