The night was ink-black.
Tokyo No. 1 Colony.
The enormous cloud of dust slowly dispersed, revealing a blurred figure in the distance. Kashimo studied the silhouette flickering through the thick smoke without rushing to speak.
"Do you have some peculiar fetish?" The person in the smoke spoke first, her voice languid and tinged with undisguised mockery. "Keeping my Lord Sukuna... tied up with a rope."
The dust cleared completely, revealing a woman standing atop a pile of rubble. She was a full meter seventy tall, her presence unfamiliar and ancient, as though she had forced her way here from some forgotten era. But Kashimo knew that face all too well.
Tsumiki Fushiguro.
Or rather.
Yorozu.
"So you used her body?"
Sukuna, who had temporarily supplanted Itadori's consciousness a short while earlier to make moving around easier, lifted his chin despite still being tightly bound by the Black Rope. Yorozu's figure was reflected in his crimson pupils.
"This appearance is slightly easier on the eyes."
"Ah~ Was I really so ugly before?" Yorozu deliberately drew out the last syllable, her tone carrying a coquettish note of reproach.
"Heh, heh, heh. I'd rather not elaborate." Sukuna smiled, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly.
"In any case-" Yorozu thrust out her hand, spreading her fingers as the light of her Cursed Technique gathered in her palm. "Give Lord Sukuna back to me first!"
She intended to make Kashimo suffer a little first.
The next instant, her arm came apart in an extraordinarily clean cut. There was no explosive sound, no visceral tearing or spray of flesh. The cut was as smooth as though a laser had seared through it in an instant. The severed arm fell to the ground, its fingers still twitching faintly.
Yorozu hastily retreated, her pupils contracting as she stared at