A few days later, on the outskirts of Osaka.
"Please spare me! I swear I won't do it again!"
A Curse User, his face swollen beyond recognition from repeated beatings, kowtowed frantically before Tsukumo Yuki. His voice cracked with terror, each plea more desperate than the last.
Tsukumo Yuki's expression remained stone. "I gave you a chance. You chose to break the rules. If you're so eager to die, don't blame me for cleaning house."
She raised her hand, ready to end it.
"Who do you think you are?!" The Curse User's facade shattered. His eyes blazed with venomous rage. "Jujutsu is mine! I'll use it however I want! I'll kill whoever I want! You have no right—"
Tsukumo Yuki stopped listening. She'd heard this rant a hundred times before.
Her strike was instant. Final.
The Curse User crumpled, life extinguished mid-sentence.
"If you break the rules and kill innocents," she said to the empty air, "you'd better be ready for the consequences. There's no logic in you being allowed to murder while others can't touch you. You died today because you were weaker than me. If you've got a problem with that, come back and haunt me."
She cleaned the scene efficiently—erasing evidence, preventing Cursed Spirit birth, protecting the ordinary world from contamination.
Then she swung a leg over her beloved motorcycle and roared away, the wind whipping through her hair.
She had an appointment to keep.
Tsukumo Yuki parked outside an unassuming roadside café, the kind of place no one would notice twice. Inside, Geto Suguru sat by the window, patiently waiting.
"Tsukumo-senpai." He smiled warmly. "Long time no see."
She slid into the seat across from him, a teasing glint in her eye. "Meeting me behind Shoko's back? Won't she be jealous?"
Geto waved his hands hastily. "Don't joke like that. Shoko and I aren't—we don't have that kind of relationship."
"Still haven't made a move after all these years?" Tsukumo raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
"What are you talking about? We're both busy. Neither of us has time for... that." Geto's ears reddened slightly. "Besides, Shoko's an anti-marriage advocate."
"I see." Tsukumo leaned back, satisfied. "Well, nothing to be done about that."
She studied him for a moment, then cut to the heart of the matter. "So. You've come to me. Does this mean you're officially joining Cursed Shadow?"
Geto nodded, sliding three photographs across the table. "Consider these my... entry fee."
The photos showed three dead Curse Users, their ends gruesome but unmistakably just.
Tsukumo examined them, letting out a low whistle. "You don't mess around."
"There's no need to hold back against scum." Geto's voice was calm, certain. "Is there?"
"No," she agreed. "There isn't."
She set the photos aside and fixed him with a serious look. "Then you're under my wing now. You know the rules? Break them, and I'll be the one to handle you."
Geto raised both hands in mock surrender. "What do you mean 'handle'? That sounds terrible. Don't worry—I was avenging my followers. I won't do it again."
Tsukumo's expression softened slightly. "I didn't expect the Bansei Cult to fall like that. Are you alright?"
The question hung between them, simple and genuine.
Years ago, a group of Special Grade sorcerers had gathered to discuss reforming the jujutsu world. Each had taken on a task. Geto's had been the most difficult, the most important—and now it had failed spectacularly.
Tsukumo's task, by contrast, had been optional. Cleaning up Curse Users. She had insisted on taking it.
Now Geto sat before her, seeking shelter in the very organization she had built.
After accepting the task, Tsukumo had founded Cursed Shadow. Its premise was simple: any Curse User who joined would have past sins forgiven—provided they paid fines proportional to their crimes. A concession from the higher-ups to save face.
Or they could skip the fine and atone by eliminating other Curse Users.
Once inside, the rules were absolute: no killing innocents. No using jujutsu against ordinary people or sorcerers without just cause.
Geto Suguru, former cult leader, now Curse User by circumstance, had chosen this path.
Tsukumo studied him across the table, seeing the weight he carried. The cult's destruction. The followers he couldn't save. The uncertain future.
"Welcome to Cursed Shadow," she said quietly. "Try not to make me regret it."
Geto smiled—tired, but genuine. "I'll do my best, senpai."
Tsukumo Yuki leaned back, listening as Geto spoke of his failures and his lingering hope. The afternoon light slanted through the café window, casting warm patterns across the table between them.
"Cursed Shadow takes missions from Jujutsu High," she explained when he finished. "Exorcism work. The members earn money—but honestly, the pay is secondary. What they really need is an outlet. Somewhere to point all that destructive energy before it points itself at innocents."
Geto nodded, understanding. He had seen what happened when sorcerers had nowhere to direct their power.
"The rules are simple," Tsukumo continued. "Break them, and your sponsor handles you. If they can't, they pass it up the chain. Eventually..." She tapped her own chest. "It lands on me."
"A clean system," Geto observed.
"Clean enough. But not everyone in Cursed Shadow is a reformed Curse User." Tsukumo's expression shifted, something softer flickering across her features. "Some are just sorcerers who couldn't stand Jujutsu High's endless rules. They wanted freedom. A simpler way."
She glanced toward the window, as if seeing something beyond the glass. "Amanai Riko and Kuroi MeiMei joined us a while back. After the Star Plasma Vessel incident, Kamo Itsuki arranged for them to attend Jujutsu High, but they hated it. Too many constraints. Too much structure."
Geto raised an eyebrow. "And now?"
"Now they travel. Take missions when they feel like it. Live exactly how they want." Tsukumo smiled. "They heard I was also a former Star Plasma Vessel and decided Cursed Shadow was the place for them."
"Good for them," Geto said quietly. "Living freely."
A silence settled between them, comfortable and reflective.
Then Geto spoke again, his voice carrying the weight of hard-won wisdom.
"It was my impatience that destroyed the Bansei Cult. I wanted results too quickly, pushed too hard, and it backfired spectacularly." He shook his head slowly. "I knew from the start this wasn't something that could be accomplished in a short time. I just... forgot. Got caught up in the momentum."
Tsukumo said nothing, letting him work through it.
"But it wasn't without gains." A genuine smile crossed his face—not forced, not bitter. Just... peaceful. "Religion is just a form. A container. What matters is what's inside."
He leaned forward, eyes bright with quiet conviction.
"The seed has been planted. People have heard the message. They've seen miracles, felt hope, experienced something beyond the ordinary world. The Bansei Cult is gone, but the idea isn't. It's out there now, scattered across Japan, waiting."
He spread his hands, as if offering the thought to the universe.
"We just need to be patient. Watch. Wait. Let the seed take root on its own time. It will sprout, grow, bloom—and eventually, bear fruit."
"And if it doesn't?" Tsukumo asked softly.
"Then someone else will plant another seed." Geto's voice was steady, certain. "That's how hope works, senpai. It doesn't die just because one garden fails. There's always another gardener, another season, another chance."
Tsukumo studied him for a long moment, this man who had lost everything yet somehow found peace in the loss.
"You've changed," she observed.
"Maybe." Geto shrugged lightly. "Or maybe I've just finally learned what I should have known all along."
He raised his coffee cup in a small toast.
"To patience. To seeds. To whatever grows next."
Tsukumo clinked her cup against his.
"To whatever grows next."
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