...
October 31st. 22:06. Dogenzaka Alleyway.
The wrapped handle of the cleaver groaned as Nanami's knuckles turned white around it. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. Next to him, Megumi rubbed a layer of black soot off his face, his dark eyes darting across the crushed concrete and shadows of the street.
They spotted the group just outside the Mark City complex.
Nobara stood planted like a wall in front of Akari Nitta. The manager's face was the color of chalk, hands shaking violently, though there wasn't a single scratch on her clothes. A few steps away, Naobito Zen'in rocked back on his heels, hands resting deep inside his yukata. His chin tipped up to watch the pitch-black sky as if waiting for a fireworks show.
Crunch.
Heavy boots ground into broken glass.
The first-year girl whipped her head toward the alleyway, spreading her feet wide. She gripped her hammer until the wood groaned.
A tailored suit cut a sharp line through the dim light as Nanami stepped out of the shadows. Megumi followed close behind.
Seeing them, Nobara let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. Her tense shoulders dropped instantly. "Nanami-san! Fushiguro!"
Beside her, Nitta sagged against a brick wall, legs looking ready to give out entirely. "Thank God," she choked out, pressing a trembling hand to her chest. "I thought another one of those monsters found us."
..
...
....
"Gojo is sealed."
The sentence dropped like a concrete block. Absolute silence swallowed the alley.
A raspy laugh finally broke the quiet. Naobito tipped back his heavy clay jug, taking a loud gulp. The sharp smell of liquor filled the air as drops spilled into his white mustache. He wiped his mouth with a lazy swipe of his sleeve, a sly smile wrinkling his cheeks.
"Sealed away," the old man mused. "Well, well. What a tragedy."
He let out another dry chuckle. "The almighty Gojo clan is nothing but a one-man show. Without Satoru on the throne, they have no teeth. The Zen'in family can finally wipe them right off the map."
Nanami didn't even look at him. He didn't care about clan politics. His face remained completely blank as he turned his back on the laughing old man and locked eyes with the first-year girl.
"Kugisaki," Nanami said, his voice flat. "You are taking Nitta-san and leaving the veil. Right now."
Nobara's knuckles turned white around the wooden handle of her hammer. "What? No! I can fight. I'm going down there with you guys to get him out!"
Shoes crunched on broken concrete. Megumi stepped out of the shadows, his face pale but set.
"He's right, Kugisaki."
She glared at him. "Fushiguro, don't you start—"
"Look at her," Megumi interrupted. He pointed a finger at the manager.
Nitta stood frozen against the brick wall. Her knees were knocking together, and her breathing came in short, panicked gasps. Her face was the color of chalk.
"The curses waiting down in that subway just trapped the strongest guy on the planet," Megumi said softly. "Nitta-san can't fight. She won't last a single minute down there."
He stepped closer, meeting Nobara's angry stare. "We can't drag her into a fight, and we don't have the hands to protect her while fighting Special Grades. She needs an escort to make it out of Shibuya alive. You have to be her shield."
Nobara opened her mouth, her jaw tight. She looked at the dark, smoking subway entrance, then back to the shivering manager. Slowly, she lowered her hammer.
"Fine," she muttered, the word sharp on her tongue.
She marched over and grabbed the sleeve of the manager's black suit. "Come on, Nitta-san. We're leaving."
...
Wind battered the massive glass facade of Shibuya Mark City, rattling the panes in their frames. Nanami pushed through the heavy doors, stepping onto the sprawling concourse of the Inokashira Line.
A transit hub built for tens of thousands of commuters sat completely, unnervingly hollow.
"We need a direct route to the lower sublevels," Nanami said, his gaze sweeping the abandoned ticket gates.
Megumi hovered near the rear, his hands resting just inches from his pockets. The ambient cursed energy in the room was suffocating—like trying to breathe in damp wool.
"Don't drop your guard," Megumi murmured, his shadow stretching unnaturally long across the floorboards. "The air in here is too thick."
Naobito merely clicked his tongue, his wooden sandals clacking lazily against the tile as he took a relaxed step forward.
Then they saw it.
It was hovering near a central concrete pillar—a bloated, crimson monstrosity drifting a few feet off the ground. It looked absurd, like a massive, gelatinous octopus swaddled in a burial shroud.
"A curse?" Megumi breathed, his fingers twitching.
"Hold your positions," Nanami ordered, his hand slipping to the wrapped handle of his cleaver.
"Too slow."
Megumi didn't even see him bend his knees. One second the old man was standing beside them, and the next, he was just gone. The sharp clack of his wooden sandal echoed off the tile twenty feet away. He was already standing directly in front of the curse, his palm slapping against its bulbous head.
The creature froze. A flat, glowing, two-dimensional frame locked around it, suspending the curse mid-air like a paused video.
Naobito didn't hesitate. He pivoted, driving a brutal right hook directly through the frozen image.
The frame shattered like tempered glass. The stored kinetic force unleashed all at once, launching the massive red curse backward like a mortar shell. It slammed into a load-bearing pillar with enough force to spiderweb the concrete.
"Is that all?" Naobito scoffed, dusting off his yukata sleeve. "This is the trash they leave to guard the upper levels?"
From the base of the fractured pillar came a wet, tearing sound.
The bloated curse dragged itself from the rubble. Its red flesh undulated, rippling and bubbling violently.
It started to heave.
A sickening cascade of bleached white bones, ribcages, and human skulls poured from its mouth, clattering loudly across the pristine station tiles. The pile just kept growing.
The curse raised its head, its voice ripping through the station in a high, ear-splitting shriek.
...
Shibuya Streets — 10:22 PM
"Stay close to the walls."
Nobara seized Nitta's sleeve, hauling the manager behind a row of overturned vending machines.
The crossing lay entirely vacant. A crushed stroller rested against a bent lamppost. Hundreds of dropped phones lit up the dark asphalt, vibrating endlessly with unanswered calls. Every step they took ground shattered storefront glass into the pavement.
"Kugisaki-san, wait!" Nitta braced both palms against the brick wall, doubling over. A sharp, ragged wheeze rattled in her chest. Her pencil skirt was torn at the hem, and she shifted her weight off a cracked heel, her legs visibly shaking. "The barrier edge... three blocks north. Alleyways. We can slip out."
Nobara didn't look back. Her thumb traced the rough wood of her hammer. "Then save your breath and keep moving."
A few yards down a narrow side street, Nobara stopped dead. She threw her left arm back, the back of her wrist hitting Nitta's chest to halt her.
A single broken streetlamp buzzed overhead, throwing jagged, twitching shadows across the pavement.
"Quiet," Nobara whispered.
Nitta instantly clamped both hands over her mouth, swallowing a gasp.
Nobara raised her hammer, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled against her high collar.
The ambient noise of the city had completely flatlined. No sirens. No distant screams. Just a heavy, suffocating stillness.
Click. Clack. Click.
Leather soles slapped rhythmically against the pavement. Skipping.
A man bounced into the pool of flickering orange light. His lips were stretched violently back, exposing his teeth in a smile that didn't reach his wide, unblinking eyes.
His blonde ponytail swung side to side with his weightless, erratic steps. In his right hand, he casually twirled a blade. The hilt wasn't wrapped in leather—it was molded into the pale, bruised shape of a severed human hand.
He pushed his lower lip out, blowing a loose strand of hair out of his face. His gaze slid right past Nobara, locking directly onto the terrified woman cowering behind her.
"Aha!" His laugh was high and sharp, scraping against the brick walls. "Someone snatched the other suit guy right out from under me. But look! I found a shiny new manager instead."
He tilted his head until the joints in his neck popped. "Aren't you guys supposed to be hiding?"
Nobara stepped sideways, putting her body completely between the man and Nitta. She planted her boots shoulder-width apart and leveled the head of her hammer straight at his chest.
"Nitta-san," Nobara said, her voice dropping into a dead, flat calm. "When I say run, you run."