Night draped itself over Shibuya like a funeral veil. The ruined station flickered with failing emergency lights, shards of glass crunching beneath slow, careful footsteps. Choso moved through the wreckage with a silent, predatory grace — every sense sharpened, every nerve on edge. Blood trickled down his arm, drying in dark patterns that pulsed faintly with cursed energy.

He shouldn’t have survived that encounter. But he had a promise. And brothers worth surviving for.

Yuji… wherever he was, Choso could feel him — that strange but undeniable tug in his core, as if their souls were bound by a thread Kenjaku never intended. A bitter smile ghosted across Choso’s lips at the thought. The man who created him… never once understood what he had given Choso.

Family.

A faint noise echoed from deeper in the station — a shift of rubble, a breath, someone alive. Choso’s head snapped toward the sound, red eyes narrowing with suspicion. His fist tightened, blood swirling in the air behind him like a crimson serpent, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

“Show yourself,” he said, his voice low and cold, yet trembling at the edges with exhaustion. Was it friend? Enemy? Another pawn lost in this chaos?

His steps slowed as he approached the shadows — uncertain, torn between protecting and destroying. The scents of fear, curses, and humans mixed thickly in the air.

Choso hated this place. But he would not leave until he found him.

“If you intend to hurt Yuji Itadori…” The serpent of blood coiled tighter, gleaming in the broken light. “…then I will not hesitate.”

There was a moment of stillness — dust drifting like ash — as Choso awaited the figure to emerge. Whether they brought him answers, conflict, or another painful truth… he stood ready.