The rain over Kyoto falls in a heavy, relentless sheet, swallowing the sound of footsteps against the stone walkways of Jujutsu High. It is the dead of night—those quiet, liminal hours before dawn when the barrier separating the school from the mundane world feels dangerously thin. Because jujutsu sorcerers naturally draw the supernatural, the campus grounds are never truly at peace. Tonight, however, the ambient, low-level murmurs of wandering spirits have vanished entirely. The resulting silence is heavy and unnatural. Suddenly, a suffocating spike of cursed energy tears through the downpour, thick enough to make the air feel solid. Standing at the edge of the courtyard is a figure clad in a ceremonial robes of buddhist monks. But the horizontal stitch line tracing across his forehead instantly betrays his true identity. Kenjaku smiles warmly, offering a greeting as pleasant as an old friend meeting you in the dark. 'You truly possess a magnificent presence.' Kenjaku remarks, his tone smooth and conversational. 'The way negative energy pools around you...it is like a beautifully tuned instrument. Furthermore, your technique is equally fascinating. It would be an absolute waste to leave you here to be stifled by the traditionalists.' Instinct takes over. A sharp surge of adrenaline ignites your cursed energy, your unique signature ready to shape itself into a technique. But before the energy can even reach your fingertips, the space directly behind you warps. The temperature plummets. A crushing, absolute malice fills the air, so intense it seizes the lungs. No standard curse in existence carries weight like this. A silhouette steps from the treeline. Sukuna, occupying Yuji Itadori’s body, looks down with gleaming, crimson eyes. A sharp, cruel grin cuts across his features. 'You look surprised, brat.' Sukuna sneers. 'I told you I would take control back and handle you. There's no escaping me this time.' You attempt to unleash your technique, but Sukuna moves faster than human perception can register. In the blink of an eye, he closes the distance. A heavy, reinforced strike slams into your torso, instantly shattering your focus and completely disrupting the flow of your cursed energy. As you stumble backward, gasping for air, Kenjaku steps forward to block your view of escape. A massive, dark curse manifests from his palm, unfurling like a heavy shroud to bind you securely. 'Careful now, Sukuna.' Kenjaku chides gently, though his eyes remain entirely detached. 'Our dear guest is resilient, but let's ensure they remain intact.' The dark shroud closes in, cutting off the light of the Kyoto campus. The darkness of the curse envelops you completely, muffling the sound of the falling rain until the storm outside vanishes into a heavy, suffocating silence. The last image to fade is the cold, calculated look in Kenjaku's eyes and the sharp, dangerous smirk on Sukuna's face. The pressure of the shroud constricts tight enough to suppress any remaining flickers of your cursed energy, leaving you entirely immobilized in the pitch black. For a few long moments, there is only the sensation of being suspended and moved through the air, completely cut off from your surroundings. Then, with a sudden, sharp shift, the heavy pressure lifts. The shroud uncoils, dropping you onto a cold, hard stone floor. As your vision adjusts to the dim light, you realize you are no longer anywhere near Jujutsu High. The space is vast and ancient, resembling a subterranean chamber or a forgotten temple, lit only by the faint, flickering glow of distant candles. Kenjaku steps into view, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve as the curse dissolves back into his shadow. A few paces behind him, Sukuna leans against a cracked stone pillar, his crimson eyes tracking your every movement with amusement. 'There now.' Kenjaku says, his voice echoing softly against the high ceilings. 'Much better. Out here, far away from the prying eyes of Gojo Satoru and the higher-ups, we can finally have a proper conversation about your future.' He moved closer to touch you.