Jujutsu kaisen: King of Seven Shikigami

Above the Ruins

The sky above the ruins darkened—not from the setting sun, but from the cursed aura thickening in the air. A gentle wind blew, carrying the scent of blood and dust, brushing against Tora's pale face. His body trembled. Not from the cold… but from the pressure so palpable before him.

Standing ahead was the strongest man of his generation—Gojo Satoru. A figure capable of shaking the world with a single step. His glowing blue eyes stared at Tora, filled with curiosity… and warning.

Tora took a deep breath, trying to steady the wild pounding in his chest.

"I want to know…" he said finally, his voice steady despite his nearly buckling knees, "If I answer your question… can I have… what's behind me?"

Gojo's smile appeared slowly. But it wasn't warm. It was a smile born from complete awareness of his overwhelming power over the fragile creature before him.

"You're not in a position to bargain with me, kid."

Silence.

Tora knew—one wrong move could mean death.

But he also knew… honesty might be the only thing that could save him now.

"I'll tell you," he said, holding his breath.

"He… he's actually Toji Zenin. A former member of the Zenin clan. Now known as Toji Fushiguro. A man with a Heavenly Restriction—no cursed energy, but his physical prowess… unmatched. They called him The Sorcerer Killer. And as for my relationship with him…"

Tora raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm just a fan who happened to pass by."

He inhaled deeply.

"So, can I have what's behind me?"

Gojo didn't answer immediately. His gaze pierced through, as if peeling back Tora's soul like layers of paper. Then he spoke—quietly, but with menace:

"You may… but wait here."

His tone sharpened.

"I have business to finish. But if you dare leave this place…"

His voice echoed through the hollow space,

"I'll kill you."

With a flash of blue light and a sudden rush of air, Gojo vanished—leaving behind an emptiness and a residual force that made the ground tremble.

---

Moments Later

Gojo Satoru stood atop a tall building, speaking to a man in a black suit and round glasses—a Jujutsu High intelligence officer.

"Dig into that boy's background," Gojo said coldly. "And watch him. If he tries to escape, follow him."

---

Back at the Ruins

Cold sweat dripped from Tora's chin, falling one by one. His breaths were heavy, but his eyes were beginning to change. Fear slowly gave way to calculation.

"Gone for a while, huh, Gojo Satoru…" he muttered to himself. "He's probably dealing with Riko Amanai… or her body."

Tora didn't wait long. With a practiced motion, he reached into his shadow and stored the Inverted Spear of Heaven and the Chain of a Thousand Miles within it. He also pulled out a worn bag full of cursed talismans he had prepared long ago—intricate charms with the signature of Granny Ogami.

"After Toji Fushiguro's death… his cursed spirit inventory was left without a master. This is the perfect time to take control," Tora murmured, his focus razor-sharp.

He lowered the cursed spirit from Toji's body to the ground, then placed a talisman inscribed with the binding spell "Master and Servant" onto it.

A burst of cursed energy erupted—then quickly faded.

The spirit bowed, its body shivering slightly before going still. Tamed.

Tora smirked.

"Being kidnapped by Granny Ogami when I was a kid… turns out it wasn't entirely useless. I don't remember who my real parents are, but her training… is proving pretty handy now."

It was the smile of a gambler who'd just won big.

The cursed spirit looked up and spoke in a hoarse, echoing voice:

"Momm…"

Tora winced. "Mommm…? Seriously, not now." He shook his head.

"Spit everything out. Now."

The cursed spirit opened its mouth wide and began vomiting items one by one.

A gun. Combat knives. A standard katana. Chains. Dangerous objects spilled out in a pile.

But the last two items left Tora speechless.

The first—

"Playful Cloud…"

Tora lifted the three-section staff—it was heavy, yet perfectly balanced.

"A special-grade weapon… pure physical power. In Toji's hands, this thing could destroy Dagon's shikigami with a single blow. Dagon, who not even first-grade sorcerers could defeat, became a punching bag to Toji Fushiguro…"

His eyes widened.

"This weapon… first appeared in the hands of Suguru Geto. I never thought it would end up in mine."

And the last—

"Split Soul Katana…"

A wide-bladed katana, with a feather-shaped guard and a dark black hilt. Its aura pierced straight through the bones. This blade didn't just cut flesh.

It cut the soul.

"This was one of Toji's signature weapons. Maki Zenin used a perfect replica forged by Mai Zenin in her battle against Sukuna… This was the key that let me tame Geto's Rainbow Dragon. A dragon with the toughest hide… defeated with a single slash."

Tora raised the sword, cursed light reflecting off its darkened steel.

"And the best part…" he said with a victorious grin,

"This sword is worth five hundred million yen."

His grin turned into a dark, quiet laugh. A laugh of triumph.

"Split Soul Katana… Playful Cloud… and Inverted Spear of Heaven…"

He turned to his right, looking at Toji Fushiguro's now-cooling body.

"Oh, I almost forgot something."

Tora grinned wide, eyes gleaming with ambition and disbelief at his own luck.

"Toji Fushiguro…"

He clenched his fist.

"Now it's your turn."

---

Inside the Silent Iron Room

Behind cold, soundless iron walls, Suguru Geto's footsteps echoed down a narrow hallway. His breath was heavy—not from exhaustion, but from a lingering dread he couldn't shake. His eyes stared straight ahead, as if trying to pierce through the steel separating him from the truth he had long refused to face.

He ran.

His hand pushed open the heavy iron door.

Creeeak—

Blinding white light slammed into his eyes as the door opened. Suguru squinted, then his pupils widened in shock.

Outside the room, people dressed in white stood in formation. Their clapping echoed softly, rhythmically—clap. clap. clap. clap. Like a funeral procession, laced with sarcasm.

But what froze him wasn't them.

It was his best friend—Gojo Satoru.

Standing there. Holding the small, lifeless body of Riko Amanai, wrapped in a white sheet. Cold hands. No breath.

Silence.

Suguru felt his heartbeat caught in his throat.

That reality… the one he had denied ever since the shooting began… now stood before him in its cruelest form.

Riko Amanai was dead.

"You finally showed up, Suguru," Gojo said quietly, his voice like a dagger.

"Oh right… there are a lot of rooms in this building, huh?"

The tone—it wasn't Gojo's usual voice. It was the voice of someone who had seen hell… and decided not to come back.

Suguru stood speechless. His eyes scanned Gojo from head to toe. His body was soaked in blood, clothes torn, face… broken. Not from wounds.

Broken by loss.

"…Are you really Gojo Satoru?" Suguru asked at last, voice weak, barely a whisper.

"What happened… to you?"

Gojo looked away for a moment, then turned back to Suguru.

"Did you see Shoko?" he asked flatly.

Suguru nodded. "Yes. She patched me up. But… that doesn't change anything."

Riko's arm dangled lifelessly from Gojo's grasp.

Gojo exhaled deeply, as if trying to hold something back. Then he said:

"I messed it up. You're not wrong, Suguru."

And Suguru—for the first time in his life—lowered his head. No rage. No shouting. Only grief, sharper than any wound.

"…Go home first," he said softly.

The clapping continued in the background. It didn't stop their exchange—it only added rot to the air.

Gojo looked at them. His expression empty. Emotionless.

"Suguru…" he said lightly, but there was something terrifying beneath it.

"Do you want me to kill these people?"

He continued—flatly, without pause.

"The me standing here… might not feel anything anymore."

It didn't sound like a threat.

It sounded like a promise.

Suguru knew. Deeply. Clearly—if he nodded, the next moment would become a massacre.

But he shook his head.

"No need," he said. "None of this matters. They're just pawns. The higher-ups… probably fled overseas by now."

Gojo didn't respond.

He only walked forward, slowly, past Suguru, still holding Riko's body in his arms. His steps were heavy, but firm. Like someone who had lost everything—and thus, feared nothing.

As he passed Suguru, he said:

"Does meaning matter…? Do we even need it?"

And in the silence that followed, only the sound of Gojo's footsteps remained—fading into the distance, carrying the last light with him.