A New Jujutsu Society

Kyoto, Jujutsu Headquarters.

This was the heart of power in Jujutsu Society, hidden behind ancient barriers and layer upon layer of torii gates. Several elders over a hundred years old sat behind folding screens in the dim conference room.

"Do you think that madman Satoru Gojo will accept confinement?"

"If he refuses, then use that..."

"And Yuji Itadori must die. Although the report says Sukuna's cursed objects have vanished, that vessel itself is a bomb."

"As for the seven Special Grade cursed spirits Suguru Geto released... as long as we hide within the barriers, we should be safe."

These old men, who held the lifeblood of Japan's Jujutsu Society in their hands, were using their rotten brains to scheme over how to cling to life through the apocalypse.

Suddenly.

"Boom!"

With a deafening blast, the heavy wooden door of the conference room—said to withstand attacks from Special Grade cursed spirits—was sent flying along with the entire wall by a violent repulsive force.

A tall figure slowly emerged through the dust.

Satoru Gojo stepped over the scattered splinters as though he were strolling through his own backyard. Behind him stood a group of young sorcerers brimming with killing intent.

"Good evening, grandpas."

Gojo removed his sunglasses. There was no mercy in his eyes. "It's time for bed."

"G-Gojo! Are you rebelling?!"

An aged voice shrieked in terror from behind the screen. "Do you know what you're doing? Without us, who will maintain the order of Jujutsu Society? The operation of the Windows, the deployment of assistant supervisors, the flow of funds..."

"Those things are none of your concern, you parasites."

Maki Zenin stepped out from behind Gojo. The long sword in her hand was still dripping blood—the blood of Kukuru Unit members outside who had remained fanatically loyal to the higher-ups.

"Order? Is your so-called order sacrificing innocent people to buy yourselves peace?" Maki kicked the folding screen aside, exposing the trembling elder behind it.

"Where was this order when you sentenced Principal Yaga to death? Where was this order when you sealed off the news during the Shibuya Incident just to save yourselves?" Yuji Itadori clenched his fists, rage burning in his eyes.

"D-Don't kill me! We can negotiate! What do you want? Special Grade cursed tools? Status?"

The elder staggered backward in terror, trying to trade benefits for his life.

"Yes, yes, yes! The Zenin Clan and Kamo Family are already families in name only. I can decide to make you the new clan heads and establish new families!"

"What I want is a future without you."

Satoru Gojo raised a hand.

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

A blue sphere of attraction gathered at his fingertips.

"No!!!"

"Boom!"

There was no scene of flesh and blood flying everywhere. Gojo precisely controlled his cursed energy and instantly crushed the structure of the entire conference room. The folding screens, tables, chairs that symbolized power, and those rotten souls were all buried beneath the rubble.

"Clean this up." Gojo turned around without looking at the ruins again. "Yuta, take command of the Windows. Maki, clear out the remaining hardliners in the Zenin Clan. Megumi, use your status as Zenin Clan head to gather the branch families of the Kamo Family and Gojo family and reorganize the council."

"Yes!"

Everyone accepted their orders and departed.

Shiyue Shuo sat on a broken beam in the conference room, silently watching it all.

He watched the once-arrogant higher-ups scream and scatter like rats. He watched Satoru Gojo use Thunderbolt methods to purge the cancer from Jujutsu Society.

"Nicely done."

Shiyue Shuo gave a light round of applause, though no sound came out.

"At least the rear is secure now."

He jumped down from the beam and passed through the bustling crowd. Yuta Okkotsu held a communicator, calmly issuing order after order. The immaturity of his younger days had completely faded, replaced by a steady bearing.

Megumi Fushiguro was lecturing a group of branch family heads far older than himself. His gaze was sharp, his approach balanced authority with restraint, and he had begun to possess the dignity of a true clan head.

Yuji Itadori, meanwhile, was moving supplies. Though sorrow still lingered on his face, there was even more resolve.

"Everyone's grown up."

Shiyue Shuo sighed.

These original protagonists had also weathered blood and fire, growing into towering trees capable of standing on their own.

"I should help them too."

Shiyue Shuo flew out the window and headed for the ruins.

The world outside remained a complete mess.

Although the seven giants had fled, and the Culling Game barriers were gradually failing due to Kenjaku's disappearance, countless low-grade cursed spirits, curse users, and the negative emotions born from fear still spread across the land like a plague.

"I'll start with you."

Shiyue Shuo held out a hand and made a grasping motion toward a Grade Four cursed spirit by the roadside that was gnawing on a stray cat's corpse.

"Hum."

He did not use his full strength. He merely tested a trace of the [Rooster] talisman's power—roughly one-tenth of its peak.

The Grade Four cursed spirit seemed to be gripped by an invisible giant hand and instantly burst into a cloud of black mist.

This time, the world did not react. Neither did the eighth black hole hanging overhead.

"I see."

Shiyue Shuo stared at his palm thoughtfully.

"The world's causal force has a threshold. As long as I don't go all out like I did in Shinjuku, and as long as I keep my output within the range of a 'natural phenomenon' or 'faint cursed energy residue,' the world will turn a blind eye."

"One-tenth, perhaps even more?"

Shiyue Shuo shook his head. This was the limit of the interference he could impose on the real world now—roughly Grade One level.

"Enough."

Shiyue Shuo grinned. Even with only one-tenth of his strength, cleaning up such fodder was more than easy enough.

He turned, leaving bustling Tokyo behind him, and walked toward the distant wilderness.

The days of wandering were more tedious than he had imagined, yet they held a strange tranquility.

Shiyue Shuo had no fixed destination. He was like the wind, arriving wherever he pleased.

He passed an abandoned factory in Saitama Prefecture and casually crushed a nest of Fly Heads that had taken up residence there.

He crossed through the deep mountains of Nagano and used the brute force of the [Ox] talisman to clear the road for a rescue vehicle trapped by fallen rocks. The rescue team's driver thought aftershocks had shaken the stones loose and even kowtowed toward the mountain in gratitude.

He even made a trip to Osaka, sitting by the Dotonbori River for an afternoon and watching streets that had grown deserted due to cursed spirit disturbances.

"If only you could see me."

Shiyue Shuo spoke to a stray dog scavenging for food beside the river.

The stray dog sneezed without even raising its head, then walked straight around his legs.

"Tch, heartless."

Shiyue Shuo stood and dusted off his pants—though there was no dust on them at all.

Just then, faint crying drifted over on the evening breeze.

In a dark alley across the river, cursed energy residue was stirring.

Shiyue Shuo's gaze sharpened, and his figure vanished instantly.

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