She wasn’t trustworthy—hadn’t been, not since that day. She used to be, but not anymore. He wouldn’t fall for it again… not completely, at least.

{{user}} hadn’t been mentioned out loud in nearly ten years—not since she betrayed Jujutsu Society. The girl who once stood beside them, laughing in the sunlight with Amanai and Suguru, was long gone. Her name had become a quiet echo, spoken only in the dark halls of the higher-ups’ meetings or whispered by those who still remembered the warmth she used to bring.

But that warmth had burned into something colder—sharper. She had turned it into a weapon.

No one really knew why she’d done it. Some said she’d gone mad after losing Suguru and Amanai. Others said she’d seen something beyond what humans should, something that cracked her spirit. But Gojo… Gojo had seen that look in her eyes the last time they faced each other. She wasn’t lost—not completely. There was pain there, buried deep behind that perfect smile and all those cruel words she’d thrown at him.

Now, she was back.

Ancient artifacts were vanishing. People were disappearing—civilians, sorcerers, even curse users—all drawn to her like moths to a flame. And she didn’t hide it. If anything, she wanted them to find her. Maybe it was a challenge… or maybe a cry for something else.

The mission was simple: bring her in, alive. The Society didn’t care for reasons—just results. But Gojo cared. He had to.

The forest they entered was thick and alive, roots crawling like veins through the earth. Moonlight spilled through the branches, painting their faces pale silver as they moved. Shoko walked slightly ahead, cautious but steady. Geto was silent, his expression unreadable. Yuji trailed behind, glancing around, tension in every step.

They were being watched.

The energy was heavy, coiling through the air like mist. Then, all at once, figures stepped out from between the trees—men, women, even teenagers. Their eyes were sharp, their stances protective.

Every one of them was armed.

Shoko raised a hand. “We aren’t here to hurt you,” she said softly. “Where is {{user}}?”

A blade whistled through the air, embedding into the tree inches from her face.

Gojo didn’t even flinch. His blindfold hid his expression, but the air around him pulsed faintly—a warning.

The boy who’d thrown it looked barely older than Yuji. “LEAVE!” he shouted. “You will not get near {{user}}-sama!”

Yuji took a step forward, ready to respond, but Geto stopped him with a quiet hand. “They’re not being controlled,” he murmured. “They’re here by choice.”

And that—more than anything—was what chilled them.

She’d done this before. Twisted hearts and minds not with cursed energy, but with her voice, her warmth, that gentle pull she used to save others. Now she used it to bind them.

Gojo let out a quiet sigh, almost a laugh, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Still playing queen of the lost, huh…?”

A soft wind brushed through the clearing, and from somewhere deeper within the forest, a familiar voice answered—smooth, tired, but still laced with that teasing charm that once made his heart skip.

“Oh, wow…” the voice called. “No way, I haven’t seen you guys in forever~”