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At the mere mention of that name, the air seemed to freeze. Then, suddenly, a frigid gale swept through, wrapping the scene in a storm of frost. The ground, the cracked walls of the dome—everything was coated in ice with a sinister crackling sound.
The frozen wave surged straight toward Geto and the woman. But before it could reach them, the woman stepped forward, spreading wide her black fan. A furious wind burst from her position, so powerful it shattered the ice into countless glittering fragments, sweeping everything in its path.
Uraume, caught off guard, was hurled backward, sliding across the frozen surface. She quickly got back up, but before she could regain her stance, a figure appeared before her—swift as lightning. The woman—or rather, a perfect copy of her—emerged and slammed Uraume to the ground with titanic force. The impact shook the earth, carving a massive crater beneath them.
What unsettled Kenjaku, however, was that the original woman still stood impassively beside Geto, fan in hand.
"Cloning? No… something far more complex," Kenjaku murmured, slowly lowering the hand that shielded his face from the debris stirred up by the gale.
He began to smile again, amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Well, it seems we're not exactly the ones in control here, are we?" His grin widened as he fixed his gaze on Geto. "So, tell me, Geto… why this sudden interest in Sukuna's relics?"
Geto returned a calm smile, his eyes gleaming with something almost mischievous. "If you know who I am, then you should already know why."
Kenjaku let out a deep, booming laugh, rich with mockery. "You want to tame the King of Curses? Truly? That's your grand plan?"
"A king of curses is still just a curse, regardless of his title," Geto declared, his calm voice resonating through the icy air. He stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. "And for a tamer like me… he's nothing more than another beast to master."
Before Kenjaku could reply, a furious cry erupted behind them. Uraume, freed from the copy's grasp, sprang to her feet. Her right arm encased itself in gleaming ice, forming a sharp blade. Her breath came fast, and her eyes, burning with hatred, locked onto Geto.
"How dare you," she snarled, launching forward at near-supernatural speed, the ground groaning under her stride.
Geto remained still, watching with disconcerting serenity. But the copy of the woman reacted instantly, flashing before Uraume like a silent shadow. She raised her black fan, intercepting the strike. The ice blade crashed against it with a thunderous crack, shattering into a thousand glittering shards.
"Fool," the copy murmured, her icy voice echoing like a chill through the air.
Uraume tried to retreat and reform her weapon, but the copy was faster. In a fluid motion, she spun and struck Uraume in the chest with staggering force. Uraume staggered, gasping as the air was knocked violently from her lungs. Before she could recover, the copy seized her by the hair and lifted her effortlessly, holding her suspended.
"Let me go… you—" Uraume tried to speak, but her voice was strangled by pain.
Without a word, the copy hurled her to the ground. The impact shook the frozen surface, carving a crater around Uraume's body. She lay still for a moment, breath ragged, before struggling painfully to rise again.
Kenjaku, who had watched the entire exchange without moving, smiled faintly. Arms still crossed, he slowly turned his head toward Geto.
"Bold, very bold," he said lightly, almost amused. "But if I were you, I'd think twice before toying with forces beyond your reach."
Geto stayed silent, his smile unwavering. "And what are you suggesting, old man?" he finally asked. "A kind warning? Or perhaps some paternal advice?"
Kenjaku chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Neither, of course. I'm here to offer you a solution. An alternative… let's say, more feasible."
Geto raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, his gaze narrowing on Kenjaku. "A solution? I'm listening."
Kenjaku stepped forward, his grin widening.
"I know why you're here. Sukuna. But let's be honest—you're not seeking to free an ancient entity just for the sake of destruction. No, no." He lifted a finger, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You want him for another reason. A far more personal one."
Geto's eyes narrowed, his features hardening. "And what reason would that be, according to you?"
Kenjaku didn't answer right away. He took another step forward, his grin stretching wider. "Satoru Gojo."
Geto's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly, though his expression stayed composed. But Kenjaku noticed—the subtle twitch of his fingers, the tension in his jaw. He knew he had struck a nerve.
"You want to bring down Gojo," Kenjaku continued, his voice now softer, almost coaxing. "And you believe Sukuna is the key."
Geto didn't answer at once. He looked aside briefly, as if hiding his thoughts, then fixed his eyes back on Kenjaku. "And if that were true?"
Kenjaku burst into booming laughter, his head tilting back slightly. "If that were true?" he repeated, amused. "Then I'd say you're ambitious. But you're underestimating what it would take."
Geto clenched his teeth, his smile hardening into something sharper. "Stop circling around it, old man. If you've got something to say, say it."
Kenjaku shrugged, his smile softening. "Very well. Listen closely, Geto. You don't need Sukuna to achieve your goal. What you seek—I can give it to you."
Geto stared at him, incredulous. "Give it to me? You?"
Kenjaku stopped just a few steps away, his gaze turning serious. "Because we share common interests. You and I, we both understand that the world as it stands… needs change. And believe me, that change won't come from Sukuna. But with me? With what I can offer? Anything is possible."
Geto stayed silent, his eyes locked on Kenjaku, thoughtful. For a long moment, only the wind seemed to break the silence, whistling softly through the frozen ruins around them.
Kenjaku wore a confident smile. But suddenly, he sprang back, eyes widening slightly.
Geto burst into roaring laughter. He laughed so hard he had to clutch his stomach, as if all his pent-up tension had exploded into uncontrollable mirth.
"You've strayed from the script, Master," the woman beside him said calmly.