After a strictly impartial vote, Raikō was chosen.
The second slot went to Koyanskaya of Light—Assassin.
It wasn't intentional, yet the lineup felt perfect.
An honest-to-goodness Japanese noblewoman radiating dignity: Raikō.
A corporate CEO doubling as her own secretary: Assassin.
Together they could cow high-society types with mundane status alone.
"Master, it's a Western-style soirée, so I put on something new. The cut is rather daring, borderline indecent… but I tailored it to your tastes. How do I look?"
Party night.
Raikō twirled in her gown, fishing for my verdict.
The skirt split all the way up both thighs—far racier than any cheongsam and all the more alluring for it.
I love a cheongsam, but this? This was a celebrity walking the red carpet.
"I'm absolutely smitten."
"Oh my♡"
Only the two of us occupied the room.
Raikō cupped her flushed cheeks.
The eyes that met mine glittered with raw lust—and an equally warped maternal instinct.
"Master, you know what happens when you stare at me like that. You're the one seducing me, yes?"
"I'm game, but how's the clock?"
"Not generous, yet surely enough to cool these flames."
She closed the distance and wrapped me in a desperate, velvet embrace.
"Master, hurry… before it's too late♡"
"Understood."
Standing where I was, I saw to Raikō's hunger—quick, thorough, efficient.
If she needed quenching, I would oblige.
Hooo…
A brief workout, a quick cleanup.
We cut it close but didn't run late.
"Master, you're not planning to shower Raikō alone with affection and leave me in the cold, are you?"
Shibuya Boulevard.
Koyanskaya of Light—Assassin—shot me a sulky glance.
She wore her usual scarlet cheongsam.
"Perish the thought."
"Then I may look forward to my share? Perhaps not tonight, but… you know what I mean."
"Crystal clear."
I patted Assassin's rear in reassurance—exactly the way one does a cat's.
"Ahn! Lovely. I'll hold you to it."
Her grin returned; crisis averted.
"Let's move."
With two corporeal Servants and three in spirit form in tow, we set out.
I'd reassigned backup for Maki and Mai to Shuten; after their slog in Kyoto, the sisters deserved a quiet night at home.
Blood on one's hands…
Maki and Mai worried about the killings, but they needn't have.
I won't claim murder is righteous—but I'm no stranger to it.
I may well be dirtier than anyone alive.
The worlds we buried, the billions who once lived in them…
I didn't pull every trigger myself, yet I bear the tally.
Compared to that, interring a handful of trash didn't faze me. I'd feel the weight of killing, perhaps, but never guilt.
"Ah, there you are."
We waited only moments at the rendezvous before an all-too-familiar assistant director climbed out of the driver's seat.
Thin, overworked, glasses—Ieiri's colleague Ijichi.
"Long time no see. Keeping well?"
"As well as one can…"
Mid-greeting he stole a glance past me.
Koyanskaya in her slit dress. Raikō in haute couture. Hips and chests that could halt traffic—who wouldn't look?
The ladies knew it and merely smiled.
Light, pleasant atmosphere. Good.
"Ah, forgive me. Please, get in. I'll handle the escort."
"Thank you."
I took the passenger seat; Raikō and Assassin slid into the back. The others perched atop the roof.
The black sedan purred onto the road—smooth sailing.
"Christmas is around the corner. Will you get time off?"
"Yes. Winter's our slow season, so I should enjoy a proper break."
"That's lucky. Working holidays is a slog, isn't it?"
"Especially when you watch everyone else on summer vacation…"
Once started, Ijichi vented like a man starved for sympathy—the sigh of every office worker.
I'd escaped those trenches, yet the weight felt familiar.
At least the pay's steady, the layoffs rare. Your life might be in danger, but never your contract.
Sooner or later he'd quit, but retirement was far off.
We've been driving forever.
At last the car stopped before a lavish, old-style Japanese estate.
"We've arrived."
Ijichi politely opened the rear door.
I stepped out and scanned the quiet surroundings—no pedestrians, only this solitary manor nestled like a cultural relic among concrete towers.
"I'll wait out front until you call."
"Wait? Out here?"
"Orders from higher up—'for the guests' convenience.' Pressure from the brass, I'm afraid. Nothing you need worry about, Kadok-san."
He laughed awkwardly and climbed back behind the wheel.
Something felt off.
Ijichi is loyal to Gojo's faction; the higher-ups must hate that. Yet they made him my chauffeur and told him to stay put? Gag order? Maybe a ploy to mislead Gojo and Geto.
Either way, unsettling. Better leave a Servant on him.
Koyanskaya of Darkness? Foreigner? Ibuki? Ushi-Gozen? I weighed the options.
Foreigner it is. Her Beast Legion can fight while defending—ideal escort detail.
[Telepathy]—Foreigner, stay and guard Ijichi.
—"Understood, Master."
Conversation over, I rapped on the main gate—though it opened before my knuckles landed.
Creeeak. A man in traditional garb bowed low.
"Welcome. The elders await. Allow me to guide you."
His eyes widened at our appearance—understandable.
"Forgive my stare."
"Think nothing of it. Lead on."
We followed him through the house, shoes on—the banquet hall was Western-style standing service, so no tatami etiquette.
All the better. Fewer constraints.
Most guests stood, drinks in hand, but the room fell quiet the instant we entered—traditional shell, Western interior, uneasy silence.
"Master, Cursed Energy and barriers woven everywhere," Raikō whispered.
I could barely sense it, yet the shimmer was visible.
"Security?"
"Likely. You saw those eerie figures outside?"
"式神, yes."
In Jujutsu law, anyone with enough Cursed Energy can learn barriers and shikigami. Talent helps but isn't mandatory.
This manor teemed with both.
"Ah, you arrived. Thank you for coming."
A familiar elder approached—one of the five councilors from Naobito's dossier. Four others trailed him: the entire top brass.
Perfect. Every last one in one place.
"Thank you for the invitation."
"And your companions—truly exquisite. A pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine."
I shook Elder One's hand—no hidden attack. My [Mystic Code] to neutralize Cursed Energy was already running; anything funny would have dissolved. I repeated the ritual with Elders Two through Five—names memorized only as faces, nothing more.
"We prepared a few delicacies. Care for one? Looks like an ordinary dumpling, but it's stuffed with premium medicinal ingredients—excellent for whetting the appetite."
Elder Two offered a plate, nibbling one himself—surprisingly rustic manners for high society.
I accepted with a nod.
Before I could bite, Assassin snatched it and chomped down like a beast, tearing the dumpling in half.
"Mmm… delicious." She chewed thoughtfully. Even Raikō took a bite—no ill effects.
"Tasty, you say? Then I'll—"
"However, I do detect a faint trace of Cursed Energy. Curious, no?"
Cursed Energy in the food.
Given tonight's stakes, that hardly qualified as a prank. We knew these men had fallen to Shuten's charm and meant to strike us.
If something smells fishy now, odds are it's an attack.
"Energy saturates the whole estate. Hardly a problem, is it?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
I even wore the vacant expression of someone genuinely clueless.
"In food it's unusual. Unless deliberately imbued—perhaps a technique?" Assassin beamed—bright, ominous, a predator's smile.
"Did you enchant these dumplings?" I turned to Elder One.
He kept his silence. A poison that activates in the stomach? Possible.
"Both at once would've been ideal, yet we'll make do." Elder One finally spoke, shaking his head in theatrical regret.
"Master," Raikō murmured, manifesting her sword, ready to carve through everyone the moment I ordered.
Tension crackled.
Elder One addressed me. "Your technique recreates figures of myth and legend, doesn't it? Minamoto no Yorimitsu at your side, and the fox you just fed—Tamamo-no-Mae, perhaps."
"Your point?"
"A limit of six in total. Terrifying, certainly Special Grade material, but you can't deploy them all simultaneously. You also carry a disruptor akin to the [Inverted Spear of Heaven]—that ring, for example."
Servants around the room quietly gathered Cursed Energy.
"How did you learn that?"
"Many eyes, many sources. Our conclusion? You're manageable."
He raised his hand—lower it and every jujutsu sorcerer here would strike.
Impressive. They'd dug deep, analyzing every scrap I'd allowed to surface. Had our system truly been jujutsu, we might have sweated.
"So you intend to kill us," I said, slipping a hand into my pocket and holding the recorder's power button.
"Perceptive. Your technique is excessive; die for peace. We can't leave anomalies like Gojo Satoru unchecked."
The elders edged back—happy to hide behind their troops yet ready to slip a killing technique through any gap.
Got it. The recording was secure—exactly the leverage I needed.
"Assassin, keep that dumpling. The technique may fade, but evidence is evidence."
"Yes, Master. I'll hold out as long as I can." She groaned theatrically, clutching her stomach—convincing even me.
Elder One smirked. "Neutralize the spell and you're helpless. We'll subdue you slowly—one piece at a time."
His hand began to fall.
Bang—a suppressed shot sliced the air.
Crunch! A blade sheared through flesh and bone, the wet sound echoing through the hall.