Amidst the wind and rain, someone jogged down the corridor. He was drenched in cold sweat and trembling all over until he spotted a sliding door. He yanked it open forcefully and shouted without thinking:
"He's here!"
"Who?" someone asked.
"The King of Curses, Mahito!" he replied.
"I heard he never operates alone. No matter where he goes, he always has at least one attendant by his side. We haven't formed a Binding Vow with Kinji Hakari, so he must have already guessed our intentions. How many people did he bring?" asked the man sitting beside the head seat.
"He didn't bring anyone." Sweating bullets, the messenger stammered, "He came entirely alone. He's wearing a kimono draped with a haori, and at his waist is a long sword—an odachi with a blade over two meters long! It's as if a master swordsman has stepped right out of the Heian period, bringing the wind and rain with him."
Suddenly, a roar echoed from the sky outside, and a bolt of lightning tore across the heavens like a flying divine dragon. Someone scoffed, "Paying a visit specifically during a thunderstorm, dressed in swordsman's garb? What is he thinking?"
"He wants to kill," someone suddenly said.
"How is that poss—"
"He wants to kill. He wants to slaughter everyone in the Zen'in family. He wants to exterminate the clan." The man murmured in a low voice, setting down his sake bottle. He shifted from his relaxed posture into a formal, upright seating position. He was the Clan Head, sitting in the seat of honor. He completely understood Mahito's intentions.
Who hasn't had youthful fantasies? The Clan Head himself had once dreamed of being a sword saint, walking through the night, encountering an enemy, and cutting them down in a single strike. But those were fantasies, not reality.
Yet, when that fantasy actually manifests, just how perfectly honed must that person's state of mind be? The Clan Head exhaled slowly.
"All Jujutsu Sorcerers experience fluctuations in their condition, especially in the heat of battle. But peak condition doesn't just arrive on command; sometimes, it requires the environment as a catalyst.
"Today is a thunderstorm. Torrential rain pours from the heavens, lightning flashes, and he walks slowly toward us in swordsman's attire, acting like the lead role in a samurai play. And we... we are the yakuza syndicate waiting to be dismantled by the star.
"I'm guessing his rage is boiling right now, yet the lake of his heart remains perfectly still, entirely immersed in a state of absolute tranquility, awaiting the life-and-death struggle to come."
The room fell dead silent. Everyone was utterly stunned.
"Hei!" the Clan Head suddenly barked.
A young man jolted awake. "Sir!"
"Mobilize all members! Assemble at the center of the courtyard and prepare for combat!"
"Yes, sir!" The young man bowed his head, stood up, and moved out immediately.
"Kukuru Unit!" the Clan Head barked again.
"Sir!" another young man answered loudly.
"Evacuate all women and children to the underground training grounds. Leave half your men to protect the non-combatants, and have the other half follow the Hei! Even if every last one of us, including myself, is slaughtered, no one is permitted to come out. Wait for external backup."
"Yes, sir!" He stood and immediately bolted out the door.
"Where is Satoru Gojo right now?" the Clan Head asked.
"We sent him out of the country. He won't be back for another week," someone answered.
"Excellent. We've dug our own grave perfectly!" the Clan Head mocked loudly. "Now, pray. Pray that I am just being paranoid, or that this King of Curses is in a forgiving mood and will leave after killing us, rather than wiping our bloodline from the earth!"
"Who does he think he is?! We politely invited him over, and he comes to murder us!" someone roared.
"Because of exactly what you just said." The Clan Head remained expressionless, letting out two cold chuckles. "Because of that arrogance carved into your very bones!"
The Clan Head tossed the sake bottle into the center of the room. It shattered. He stuck out his tongue, licking away the last drop of alcohol clinging to his lips.
***
The Clan Head was right; that was exactly what Mahito was thinking. Mahito hadn't lied to Kinji Hakari—he really had figured it out.
In the original work, there was a finishing move that theoretically all Jujutsu Sorcerers could use, known as Black Flash. It was an ultimate technique that could only be unleashed by a sorcerer in absolutely peak condition. Upon landing a Black Flash, both sorcerers and cursed spirits would enter a unique state of awakening. This state made the user's mind and body utterly clear, even allowing Cursed Technique Burnout to recover in an instant.
The original Mahito had relied on landing a Black Flash to enter a state called 'Idle Transfiguration: Instant Spirit Body of Distorted Killing'. That was his final form. Although he lost his shape-shifting versatility, his physical specs were boosted to an unprecedented level. It was an evolution into a higher-dimensional being, fundamentally different from his pre-transformation self.
But the current Mahito, despite being objectively stronger than his original counterpart at this point in time, couldn't do it.
He couldn't land a Black Flash, nor could he enter his Instant Spirit Body of Distorted Killing. Why?
Because his heart wasn't pure enough? Because he had never experienced a true fight to the death? Mahito concluded it was both.
It was because he overthought things, his mind cluttered, and because he had never truly danced on the edge of death.
Time was running out. It was currently July 2018. The endgame of the original timeline was December 24, 2018.
If Mahito hadn't fully matured by then, his death was certain. Kenjaku would absorb him, or Satoru Gojo would kill him.
No matter where he ran, he believed Kenjaku and Gojo would sniff him out. Kenjaku would do it for amusement; Gojo would do it for his righteous cause. His only option was to gamble.
To gamble that Kenjaku would be killed by Gojo, gamble that Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna would mutually annihilate each other, gamble that the main cast would take pity on him and spare him, and finally gamble that human governments were stupid enough not to realize that Cursed Spirits, under Mahito's leadership, could rule the Earth as its new overlords.
Only then would he have a way out. Was that remotely possible?
What a joke! That was no different from handing his life over to God and asking Him to roll the dice!
The world was vast, yet he had nowhere to hide. And so, Mahito came alone.
Jogo had tried desperately to persuade him, but Mahito refused to let them follow. Kinji Hakari had also urged him not to be reckless, but he rejected that too, because this wasn't recklessness.
Only Kenjaku recognized the shift in Mahito. He had asked Mahito: "What do you need me to prepare?"
"Is there any preparation that can help me land a Black Flash?" Mahito had asked.
"The growth of a Jujutsu Sorcerer isn't always a slow, steady curve. With the right foundation, a dash of soul, and a little imagination, all it takes is a trivial catalyst for a person to be completely reborn."
Kenjaku smiled. "Mahito, what matters is your state of mind. In what kind of condition do you wish to fight? It's fine, don't be shy. Push your imagination to the absolute limit. Indulge your mood to the fullest. Ultimately, just follow the desires of your heart."
It was the exact same concept as the original Satoru Gojo choosing December 24th for the final battle. It was the last day of the year, carrying extreme special significance. Sometimes, simply making such a choice could drastically elevate one's mental state. Mahito needed that now.
Mahito thought for a moment and smiled. "I understand."
He chose a day with torrential rain and had Hakari call the Zen'in family.
He thoroughly washed his body, rose from the bath, and put on the clothes Kenjaku had meticulously prepared for him. It was a loose white undershirt, folded and worn diagonally, tied securely at the waist. Below were baggy black hakama pants, white tabi socks, and wooden geta sandals.
Finally, he draped a black haori over his shoulders.
Hanami combed his messy, disheveled hair. Under Hanami's careful grooming, his frizzy hair smoothed out, flowing like white silk. When he stood up, his long hair draped naturally down his back, resembling a pristine white cape.
[We await your return, our Lord.] Hanami offered a blessing.
Mahito smiled and gave a slight nod.
Jogo handed him a wide sedge hat. He took it. The brim was decorated with sun and moon ornaments that chimed crisply when shaken. He put it on.
"Fifty years of human life, like a dream, like an illusion," Jogo recited softly. "Once given life, there is only death; what regrets can a brave man have?" This was the death poem Oda Nobunaga recited before the desperate battle that shattered the Sengoku period's status quo, paving his way to conquer the realm.
Jogo held immense expectations for Mahito, and even now, that hadn't changed.
"The Zen'in clan hardly counts as the Battle of Okehazama," Mahito replied, fully understanding the sentiment.
Dagon emerged from the seawater, looking up at him with wide, watery eyes. Mahito reached out and gently patted his head.
"Mahito... is invincible," Dagon gurgled.
Mahito lightly flicked Dagon's forehead with the back of his hand. "You can't say things like that right now."
Kinji Hakari looked at him and handed over the pre-prepared scabbard.
Mahito reached out and grasped the scabbard. With his other hand slightly raised, Kirigiri, standing to the side, slowly levitated. It slid smoothly down along the scabbard, the blade eventually clicking against the rim with a soft hum.
Hakari hesitated, but finally said, "May fortune favor your blade, Mahito."
"Of course," he replied.
Finally, there was Kenjaku.
He opened a spatial door. Outside, the rain poured down in sheets, lightning flashing and thunder rolling across the sky. He looked at Mahito's attire, watching him secure Kirigiri at his waist and adjust his sedge hat. Fully prepared, Mahito looked as though he had stepped right out of ancient times—an era where every man wore kimonos and haoris, donned sedge hats, carried long swords, and walked the streets as samurai, perpetually ready for a sudden life-or-death encounter.
Few knew that Kenjaku himself had once been a samurai. In his final battle with Yuki Tsukumo in the original timeline, Yuki had mocked him as a washed-up ronin.
And now, he was hallucinating the past.
"The sound of the Gion Shoja bells echoes the impermanence of all things. The color of the sala flowers reveals the truth that the prosperous must decline."
Kenjaku chanted softly. His face, which forever wore a look of malicious intent, had shifted at some point. He settled down, opening his eyes wide, his pitch-black irises staring blankly at Mahito, as if lost in a dream.
He snapped back to reality, his malicious grin returning.
"Looks like you're fully prepared, Mahito. There's no turning back from this."
"I know."
"In the grading system of Jujutsu Sorcerers, sorcerers are always ranked one level above Cursed Spirits. A Special Grade Cursed Spirit actually corresponds to a Grade 1 Sorcerer. And in the Zen'in family, there are four Supreme Grade 1 Sorcerers, seven Grade 1 Sorcerers, and nearly a hundred sorcerers without techniques but with countless battles under their belts. Don't blame me for nagging, Mahito, but are you truly sure about this?" Kenjaku asked.
Mahito's current classification was Special Grade Cursed Spirit - Intelligent Type Special Grade - Humanity's Curse upon Humanity.
This meant there were four sorcerers ranked above him, seven roughly equal to him in strength, and nearly a hundred capable fighters who could pose a serious nuisance. And he hadn't even gathered intelligence on all their cursed techniques.
This was a battle with an entirely different meaning compared to his fight with Kinji Hakari.
Although Hakari possessed the strength of a Special Grade Sorcerer, and defeating him theoretically meant Mahito had surpassed that level, it shouldn't be calculated that way. The reason Mahito had defeated Hakari so easily was that he had thoroughly researched Hakari before the fight. He possessed an absolute advantage in intelligence and had prepared specific countermeasures. Hakari had known nothing about him; the battle was over before it even began.
But this time was different. Although he knew of the Zen'in clan from the original manga, he didn't know everything. He held no advantage in intelligence. Quite the opposite—his intelligence file was likely sitting right in front of the Zen'in clan right now. He was at an information disadvantage.
A true fight to the death.
Just for 'Black Flash'. Was it worth it? Absolutely.
Or rather, if he didn't take this step today, he would never be able to take it in the future.
Satoru Gojo was currently absent. He knew more than half of the Zen'in clan's intel. He had recorded numerous powerful cursed techniques and had Kirigiri, a blade capable of slaying gods, at his side. If he backed down now, it would be no different from slow suicide!
It was precisely this kind of battle—one carrying the risk of death, yet not entirely devoid of the possibility of victory—that could force him to grow at the fastest possible rate. If he didn't fight now, when would he?
Mahito stepped through the spatial door. The torrential rain immediately battered against his sedge hat. Listening to the drumbeat of the rain against the straw, he imagined the clash of swords. His previously calm emotions began to swell. He walked down the road, and at its end stood the grand courtyard of the Zen'in clan, its silhouette blurred by the downpour.
Suddenly, he felt eyes locking onto him. It was a bizarre sensation. He wasn't actively using any Cursed Technique, yet his cursed energy permeated his surroundings, rippling outward. Every raindrop, every soundwave fell under his gaze. He felt like a god of the world, and now, scanning his domain, this god easily detected the surveillance.
But he didn't turn his head, nor did he falter. He simply continued his march toward the end of the road.
More and more gazes fixed upon him. He tilted his sedge hat down slightly, obscuring his face. He advanced through the curtain of rain at a steady, unhurried pace. Kirigiri seemed to sense the danger, emitting a crisp, low hum as she vibrated restlessly in her scabbard.
He gently stroked Kirigiri, and the long blade's crisp hum slowly faded, falling as silent as a maiden.
The Zen'in courtyard erupted into a commotion. The guards stared tensely at Mahito through the rain, their hands instinctively dropping to the hilts of their swords. Suddenly, over fifty men poured out from inside. Their expressions were dead silent. They were far more professional than the gate guards; before Mahito even drew near, their long swords were already unsheathed.
In an instant, the unified metallic shriek of drawn blades filled the air, drowning out even the roar of the rain. Mahito swept his gaze over them, suddenly fixing on one particular man.
He felt the cursed energy flaring around this man; he was the linchpin here. Mahito recalled intel from the original story—this man seemed to be a named character. Normally, Mahito would never have remembered such a minor figure, but his mental state was so abnormally sharp right now that he recognized him at a single glance.
"The Zen'in Clan's Kukuru Unit Captain, Noburo Zen'in?" he suddenly asked.
The man froze. "You know me?"
At that moment, Mahito finally halted his steps. Everyone subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief—except Noburo Zen'in. He glared warily at Mahito, hesitating over whether to strike first. Although Mahito's body was completely relaxed, his stance in the wind and rain resembled a fierce demon. The upper half of his face was swallowed by the shadows of his hat, concealing even his heterochromatic eyes. Only an aura of silent, suffocating terror washed over them.
"All Jujutsu Sorcerers in the Zen'in family without a Cursed Technique are obligated to join the Kukuru Unit. Because they lack techniques, they can only train their physical bodies. As a result, every single one of you is a master of hand-to-hand combat, capable of defeating curses of the same grade using martial arts alone."
Mahito lightly brushed the hilt of Kirigiri. Without him realizing it, his cursed energy ignited. He spoke softly:
"But that isn't the Kukuru Unit's mission. Your mission is to support the Hei. You've deployed, which means the Hei are waiting right behind you, aren't they? You're just pawns sent to test the waters."
"'Pawns' is a rather ugly word," Noburo Zen'in sneered. "For a mere Cursed Spirit, we don't need the lords of the Hei. I alone am enough to—"
Suddenly, Mahito spun around. Mid-spin, he drew Kirigiri to his front and, riding the momentum of his rotation, hurled the odachi, scabbard and all, directly at Noburo.
Noburo hadn't expected a samurai to throw their weapon before the fight had even begun. Fortunately, he was always prepared for the unexpected. Seeing the projectile, he immediately swung his longsword up to parry Kirigiri.
Amidst the sharp clang of metal, Mahito activated a Cursed Technique Reversal, targeting 'Soul Creation' on: —Aoi Todo.
Cursed Technique Released: Boogie Woogie!
Deflected by the parry, Kirigiri flew upward into the sky, the scabbard slipping off mid-flight. With a crisp CLAP, the scabbard and Mahito swapped positions. A hand firmly grasped Kirigiri's hilt.
Noburo Zen'in's pupils dilated. He was still holding his sword up from the parry; he couldn't possibly have anticipated Mahito teleporting right in front of him in a fraction of a second. His last sentence wasn't finished, his follow-through wasn't complete, yet Mahito was already right in his face. In that frozen moment, he finally got a clear look at Mahito's face.
Those heterochromatic eyes glimmered faintly in the torrential rain, like a god, like a demon.
Soul Creation shift: Momo Nishimiya. Tool Manipulation!
The blade traced lightly across Noburo Zen'in's throat, slicing through the esophagus, slipping seamlessly through the cervical vertebrae, and exiting out the other side. A clean decapitation in a single stroke!
"The manifestation of humanity's curse upon humanity.
Mahito. Has arrived!"
Mahito kicked Noburo Zen'in's body away. The severed head, still wearing a haughty expression, plummeted through the rain and smacked onto the soggy pavement, rolling right through the main gates. Blood erupted from the stump of his neck like a geyser. Amidst the mist of blood, Mahito raised Kirigiri high, pointing the blade directly at the Zen'in clan!