Blood mingled with the rain.
It snaked across the shattered asphalt like a river, pooling beneath the cold corpse.
"Itadori—!!"
Megumi Fushiguro's heart-wrenching scream seemed to tear through the torrential downpour.
He stumbled to Yuji Itadori's side, his hands trembling as he tried to press down on the massive, bloody hole in the boy's chest.
But it was futile.
The heart was completely gone. Blood gushed from the gruesome cavity as if a dam had burst, draining the last traces of warmth from the young man.
Rain pelted Megumi's face, making it impossible to distinguish water from tears.
"Why... why did it turn out like this..."
"You said we'd get stronger together..."
"You said we were going to save everyone..."
Nobara Kugisaki knelt nearby, her hand over her mouth as tears fell uncontrollably.
That idiot who was usually so loud and cheerful, like a little sun, was now lying there in silence.
He would never jump up and yell about wanting steak again.
He would never get excited about buying a trendy hoodie again.
He was dead.
Really dead.
Despair spread through the air like a plague.
"This... this is..."
Nearby, the assistant supervisor Kiyotaka Ijichi had just arrived.
Seeing the scene, his legs gave out, and he collapsed into the muddy water.
His face was as pale as a sheet, his lips trembling so much he couldn't form a single word.
It was over. Everything was over.
Ryomen Sukuna's vessel was dead.
This wasn't just a failed mission; it was a cataclysmic event for the entire jujutsu world.
The higher-ups... those rotten oranges... would definitely use this opportunity to strike.
Even Mr. Satoru Gojo...
Ijichi didn't dare think further. Fear nearly suffocated him.
"Cough... hack..."
A weak cough broke the deathly silence.
Everyone whipped their heads around.
Yoru, who should have been unconscious, had somehow struggled into a sitting position.
He wasn't in much better shape than Itadori, covered in blood from head to toe.
His Jujutsu High uniform was reduced to tatters. Although the flame-like Slayer Mark on his left cheek had faded, the deathly pallor from overexerting his life force was chilling.
Yet, he stood up.
Using the blood-stained Shiranui as a crutch, he limped toward Itadori, one agonizing step at a time.
"Yoru! Don't move!"
Megumi shouted, his eyes bloodshot.
"Your injuries are severe too! If you keep moving, you'll die!"
Yoru ignored him.
His eyes were hollow and deep, as if staring at something incomprehensible to ordinary people.
Rain slid down his sharp features, dripping onto the hilt of his blade.
He reached Itadori's side and slowly crouched down.
"Move."
His voice was raspy, yet it carried an undeniable authority.
Megumi froze for a moment, instinctively letting go.
Yoru gently placed his palm over the hollow cavity in Itadori's chest.
Cold. There wasn't a hint of warmth.
The heart was indeed gone.
But in Yoru's perception, the world was more than just its physical layer.
That one-minute 'Binding Vow: Overdraft' had allowed him to experience the power of a 40% Synchronization Rate.
Although the time had passed and the backlash was setting in—his muscles cramping and his Synchronization Rate locked—a lingering trace of that sensation remained.
Transparent World (Remnant).
Yoru closed his eyes and adjusted his breathing.
Total Concentration: Constant.
Warm ripples flowed from his palm, slowly injecting into Itadori's cold body.
It wasn't cursed energy, nor was it the Reverse Cursed Technique.
It was pure life energy—the solar aura represented by Sun Breathing.
In that gray field of vision...
Yoru saw a tiny flicker of flame, so weak it was on the verge of extinguishing.
That was Itadori's soul, and it was still burning.
As he delved deeper, the scene before Yoru's eyes changed abruptly.
His consciousness seemed to pierce through the physical shell, plunging into a vast, boundless darkness.
At the end of that darkness was a sea as crimson as blood.
Overhead, bleached white bones were arranged like arches, making him feel as though he were inside the ribcage of some colossal beast.
And upon a throne of those same white bones sat a figure.
Ryomen Sukuna.
The King of Curses sat with his chin resting on one hand, looking bored as he watched the uninvited guest who had suddenly intruded into his consciousness.
"Oh?"
A flash of surprise flickered in Sukuna's crimson eyes.
"A brat with no cursed energy actually managed to peek into my Innate Domain through sheer willpower?"
The pressure was palpable.
Just being watched by him made Yoru's skin prickle, as if the air were filled with countless tiny blades.
But he didn't back down.
He stood there atop the sea of blood, looking directly at the King of Curses on his throne.
"He's still alive, isn't he?"
Yoru stared straight at the figure, his tone as calm as if he were stating a foregone conclusion.
"Heh."
Sukuna chuckled.
He slowly stood up, his terrifying cursed energy surging through the domain like a tsunami.
"You mean the brat who's nearly broken? His soul is indeed clinging to life."
"But if you think you can save someone from my hands, you're two thousand years too early."
"However..."
Sukuna narrowed his eyes, his gaze seeming to pierce through Yoru's physical form to see the very essence of his soul.
"Your soul is quite interesting."
"Disgusting like the sun, yet so pure it makes me want to crush it."
"Now, get out."
Sukuna waved his hand dismissively.
"Since that brat has already made a binding vow with me, this farce is over."
Boom!
The mental space shattered instantly.
Yoru's body swayed slightly, and a layer of cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
'As I thought...'
Yoru snapped his eyes open, his lips curling into a weak yet wild smirk.
Ryomen Sukuna.
That arrogant King of Curses.
He talked about killing everyone and claimed he'd kill Itadori if he dared to switch back.
But he knew better than anyone: if Itadori truly died, he—as the incarnated soul—would perish as well.
Even with only the power of two fingers, he would never allow himself to die such a pathetic death.
He was using his own cursed energy to forcibly maintain the absolute minimum functions of this body.
It was like holding onto a spider's silk at the edge of a cliff.
As long as that thread didn't snap, Itadori could be saved.
"Yoru... what are you doing? Itadori is already..."
Nobara sobbed, unable to bear watching Yoru look like he couldn't accept reality.
"Shut up."
Yoru growled softly.
He pulled his hand back, the cold sensation still lingering on his palm.
But the light in his eyes grew brighter.
"Who told you he was dead?"
Everyone froze.
Megumi's eyes widened, looking at Yoru in disbelief.
"But... his heart is gone... and his breathing and pulse..."
"For a sorcerer, losing a heart is indeed fatal."
Yoru used his sword to steady himself as he swayed to his feet.
His gaze swept over everyone present before finally landing on the massive hole in Yuji's chest.
"But for this guy... for the vessel housing the King of Curses..."
"An injury of this level won't kill him."
Yoru paused for a moment.
He looked past them toward the pitch-black night sky outside the detention center.
The rain was still falling.
But he could already see the approaching storm.
Gojo Satoru was coming.
The rotten oranges at the top were about to make their move too.
This was an opportunity.
A chance to beat those rotten oranges at their own game and give them a hard slap in the face.
It was also a chance to free Itadori from the shackles of his suspended death sentence once and for all.
"Listen."
Yoru took a deep breath, suppressing the surging blood in his chest.
He looked at the bewildered Megumi and Nobara, and the terrified Ijichi.
A cunning smile, completely at odds with his battered appearance, spread across his face.
"Stop crying. Wipe your tears."
"Even though he isn't quite dead yet, to make certain people happy..."
"We need to put on a show."
"A show that will shake the world."
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