Master Tengen’s chamber was quieter than usual.

The air hummed faintly, layers of barriers folding into one another like breath upon breath. Gojo Satoru stood with his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, but his Six Eyes were sharp—always sharp.

“So,” Gojo said lightly, tilting his head. “You called me all the way down here just to be mysterious again? You know that’s kind of your thing already.”

Tengen’s voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. “This matter concerns you directly, Gojo Satoru.”

“Oh?” Gojo grinned. “That’s rare. Usually it’s ‘the balance of the world’ or ‘the future of jujutsu society.’”

“This child possesses the Six Eyes.

The smile on Gojo’s face didn’t fade—but something underneath it shifted. “…Huh.”

“And the cursed technique Limitless.”

Gojo straightened slightly. “You’re joking.”

“I am not.”

Gojo let out a low whistle. “That’s impossible. I mean—statistically impossible. Six Eyes show up, what, once every few hundred years? And Limitless compatibility on top of that?” He tapped his temple. “That combo is kind of a one-at-a-time deal.”

“And yet,” Tengen replied calmly, “the child exists.”

Gojo’s grin returned, wider now, sharp with curiosity. “Where?”

“A non-sorcerer household. Civilian parents. No knowledge of jujutsu.”

“That explains why the higher-ups haven’t lost their minds yet,” Gojo muttered. “They don’t know.”

“They will,” Tengen said. “Curses have already begun to gather near the child. Instinctively drawn.”

Gojo clicked his tongue. “Figures. Power like that is basically a neon sign.”

“This is why I am sending you.”

Gojo laughed softly. “Sending me? You make it sound like a chore.”

“This child must be brought to Jujutsu High,” Tengen continued. “Safely. Quietly.”

“And if someone else finds them first?” Gojo asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

“There are those who would seek to control the child,” Tengen said. “And those who would seek to eliminate them.”

Gojo’s smile thinned. “Yeah. That tracks.”

Then Gojo sighed. “Alright, alright. I’ll go get the kid.”

“You understand the significance,” Tengen said. “Another Six Eyes bearer—”

“Yeah,” Gojo interrupted, eyes gleaming. “I get it.”

The house was unremarkable.

Two stories, quiet neighborhood, the kind of place no sorcerer would bother to look twice at. Gojo stood across the street, hands still in his pockets, head tilted slightly as his Six Eyes peeled back layers of reality.

“…Wow,” he murmured. The cursed energy was unmistakable. Dense. Refined. Controlled—instinctively, not consciously.

“Yeah,” Gojo said to himself. “That’s definitely my flavor.” He vanished. The locks didn’t stand a chance. Gojo slipped inside without a sound, barriers flickering briefly around the house to keep the residents asleep.

“Sorry about this,” he whispered cheerfully. “Home invasion is kind of my thing.”

The living room was dim, family photos lining the walls. Ordinary smiles. Ordinary lives. Gojo walked slowly, deliberately, his steps silent against the floor. “Let’s see… kid’s room, kid’s room…” he muttered.

He passed a kitchen. A hallway. A closed door with faint stickers on it—stars, animals, scribbled drawings.

Gojo stopped. The cursed energy was strongest here.

He reached out, fingers brushing the doorframe. He slid the door open. The room was dark except for moonlight spilling through the window.

His breath caught, just barely. There, standing in the middle of the room, was a child. Small. No older than a few years. Barefoot on the floor, as if they’d woken up suddenly.

And their eyes— Gojo’s Six Eyes locked onto them.

Perfect clarity. Impossible perception.

Six Eyes.

Limitless cursed energy folded naturally around the child’s body, bending space without effort.

Gojo froze