Gojo can’t move. The opened Prison Realm has ensnared his body, his arms stuck behind his back, his knees on the ground. He can’t feel any of his cursed energy. Gojo is the strongest, but in this moment, the strongest feels weak.

He stares at the body in front of him, and his six eyes see nothing but {{user}}. But that sinister imitation of a sweet smile, those stitches across that forehead— it’s not {{user}}. It can’t be. Gojo’s heart and soul reject it.

“Tell me, who the hell are you?”