The Culling Game? Disposable supplies?
Itadori's pupils contracted sharply, and his blood ran cold.
So that was it.
Everything had been orchestrated behind the scenes by this man called Longbow.
Everyone was his pawn. Even Mahito, a Cursed Spirit guilty of countless atrocities, was nothing more than a tool to be discarded after use.
Itadori was about to move when Choso abruptly grabbed his arm, his voice lowered to a near whisper, thick with suppressed anger:
"It's him. Nagayumi Jin."
"Nagayumi Jin?"
"The man who planned all of this.
He was also the one who contacted the Cursed Spirits and set up the Curtain in Shibuya. Every one of us was a pawn on his board from the start."
Itadori charged first, his right fist wrapped in the last of his cursed energy as he aimed straight for the man's back.
Choso raised his hand at the same time, condensing one final, high-density Piercing Blood. The red streak tore through the air toward the vital point at the back of the man's neck.
One close, one far-a pincer attack that exhausted the last of their strength.
But Kenjaku did not even turn his head.
Without shifting his feet an inch, he casually swept his left hand backward, precisely deflecting Itadori's heavy punch.
A wisp of pitch-black cursed energy flicked from his right fingertips, lightly touching the Piercing Blood hurtling toward him.
Crack.
The blood spear, as hard as steel, shattered into a mist of blood that scattered through the air.
Kenjaku's tone was flat, even a little casual.
He was still refining Mahito on the ground, handling both tasks with ease:
"Choso, I certainly didn't expect you to turn on us so thoroughly.
You only just acknowledged your 'little brother,' and now you're already helping an outsider attack your ally?"