Chapter 163 - Yuji's Big Brother, and the Sleeping Daughter

The moment Toji's fist was about to cave in Kenjaku's skull, a dark violet barrier rose from nowhere. Chikage, the bewitching woman, formed hand seals, bit through the tip of the tongue, and forced the Absolute Defense open at the cost of burning through life force itself.

BOOM.

The barrier shattered like wet paper under a single punch. But that one second it bought was enough to change everything. Uraume pressed both palms flat against the ground. Not freezing, instead, an instantaneous and terrifying temperature differential. A tsunami of thick white fog erupted outward, swallowing everything within a kilometer whole. Sight, sound, even the direction of the wind itself were warped and twisted inside that fog.

"Move." Kenjaku's voice drifted through the white wall, impossible to pin down. "Toji Fushiguro — you truly are an anomaly. But this fire has already been lit. A game for a new age. I look forward to your participation."

The voice faded completely.

"Stop playing games!" Toji threw another punch, and the savage shockwave tore a corridor straight through the fog.

The end of that corridor was empty.

"Rise!" Suguru Geto charged forward, flinging a hand up to summon two enormous bird-shaped Cursed Spirits.

They beat their wings, and the gale scoured the ground, blasting away the last of the fog. On the desolate ruins, only rubble and wrecked vehicles remained. Kenjaku, Chikage, Uraume, gone without a trace. More alarming still, not even a shred of Cursed Energy residue lingered. It was clean. As though they had never existed at all.

"Damn it!" Geto's face had gone iron-gray, teeth grinding together audibly. "Those bastards, they took Gojo with them!"

The Prison Realm's sealed box was still in Kenjaku's hands. He spun sharply, as if to give chase. Then reason caught up. There was nowhere to even begin.

"Don't be rash, honor student." Toji brushed the dust off himself. The blue steam faded from his body as it slowly receded, releasing the Gate of Wonder.

"That's Gojo! He's sealed inside that box!" Geto had lost his composure, a rare thing, eyes sharp with raw agitation.

"Calm down." Toji waved a hand without a care and grinned. "The white-haired kid is the strongest there is. Sure, his personality's awful, but he's not going to die that easily. Instead of stamping your feet here, let's clean up the battleground first."

Geto drew a long breath and forced the fire back down. Toji was right. Losing his temper now was pointless.

He pulled out a specialized communicator and dialed the direct line to Tokyo Jujutsu High's command center. "This is Geto. Combat in the Shibuya central district has concluded. Dispatch medical and logistics teams immediately. Also, issue a Grade 1 alert and begin full-scale tracking of the monk with sutures on his head."

On the other side of the ruins, Megumi had already sprinted to Yuji's side. He crouched down and checked Yuji's breathing. The tension strung through his nerves finally loosened.

"Dad, he's fine — just passed out," Megumi called.

As if the voice had reached him, Yuji's eyelids twitched hard several times, then slowly opened. His gaze focused. He took in the devastation around him. Shattered streets. Burning buildings. The acrid reek of blood thick in the air.

He lurched upright, grabbed his head in both hands, voice coming out shaking: "I'm sorry, I caused trouble again."

Fifteen fingers. Not only had he failed to suppress Sukuna, he had let Sukuna go on a killing spree through this city. If not for Toji-sensei, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Thwack.

A broad, heavy hand came down hard on Yuji's shoulder. Toji walked over, looked down at him, that signature hot-blooded grin plastered across his face.

"What's a man doing moping around like that! Stumbling on the road of youth every now and then is completely normal!"

He laughed loud and hauled Yuji up off the ground with one hand. "You already did great! From here on, just pour in twice the sweat, build those muscles up even harder, and even that so-called King will have to sit quietly inside you and behave!"

Naoya walked over, cold-faced.

"I didn't think that scrawny body of yours could explode with such power." The tone was flat, unhurried. "But I'll have you know, the position of senior direct disciple will always be mine."

Megumi stood to one side, expression as cold as ever, but the voice had softened just slightly. "Don't flatter yourself. Did you really think we'd get taken out that easily by something like that?"

Yuji stared blankly at the three of them. The corners of his eyes were beginning to sting. He was just about to speak, A low, unhurried voice came out of the shadows of the ruins without any warning.

"Exactly. As my little brother, you don't owe anyone an apology."

Geto went instantly alert, hands rising into a seal. Megumi formed seals as well, eyes fixed warily in the direction of the voice. A figure with two small twin-tufted braids and dark markings under the eyes walked slowly into the moonlight. Cursed Womb: Death Paintings. Choso. The atmosphere dropped to absolute zero. This one was strong.

Yuji was lost. He pointed at his own nose. "You, are you talking to me? Who's your little brother?"

"You, of course. Yuji." Choso walked closer, step by step, eyes full of tenderness and an unshakeable certainty. "I am your big brother."

Dead silence.

Megumi turned to look at Yuji, expression saying it plainly: When did you go behind our backs and pick up a big brother?

Yuji shook his head frantically. "I don't know this person! I swear!"

Geto's brow furrowed as he studied Choso. "Cursed Womb: Death Paintings? What are you after? Esou and Kechizu are dead, are you here for revenge?"

"Revenge?" Choso stopped walking. Something deeply complicated moved through those eyes.

"I sensed the bloodline Resonance in Yuji's body, and a flash of scenes lit up in my mind, the four of us living together happily. It's painful to accept. But I know my younger brothers' deaths were... a misunderstanding. If their older brother had found you sooner, perhaps none of this would have happened."

Every word was utterly sincere. There was even a glimmer of tears in those eyes.

Yuji felt his scalp crawl. "Hold on! That's called a near-death vision! And those memories don't even exist!"

"There's no need to explain." Choso drew a slow breath. "The bond of blood cannot lie. Yuji, no matter what happens, your big brother will protect you."

"Ha!" Toji burst out laughing, stepped forward, and slapped a palm hard across Choso's back, nearly sending Choso stumbling forward.

"Now that's something! So this is the bond of youth! If you're brothers, then come sweat it out together on the training ground! More people, more strength!"

Megumi pressed a hand to the temple. "Dad, you're just going to accept this that easily?! That's a Cursed Womb: Death Paintings!"

"What does that matter!" Toji stuck his thumb up and flashed a full grin. "As long as there's a heart that burns, even a Cursed Womb can become the best ally around!"

Choso paid no attention to Toji's raving. Instead, Choso looked toward Geto and dropped a bombshell.

"That man with the sutures on his head." Choso's voice was flat and cold. "The one who created us. He once operated under the name 'Kamo Noritoshi.'"

Geto's gaze sharpened. Kamo Noritoshi. The most reprehensible sorcerer in the history of the Jujutsu World.

"I see." Geto rubbed his chin slowly. "One hundred and fifty years, one body to the next. That suture line is the mark left behind each time he transplants his brain. No wonder he's survived this long, no wonder he orchestrated all of this. What he wants is to drag everyone into his so-called 'game for a new age.'"

Silence settled over them. Toji felt the exhaustion hanging over the group and clapped both hands once.

"Alright. Whatever his identity — today's fight is over. Everyone go home. Reassemble tomorrow."

The cleanup of Shibuya was handed off to the command center. Toji and Megumi didn't linger. They headed straight home. Too much had happened tonight. Satoru Gojo sealed. Kenjaku escaping. Sukuna running amok across the city. But to Toji, none of that mess mattered as much as the dinner waiting at home.

"Tsumiki should have dinner ready by now." Toji pushed open the front door. "Hey! Dad and Megumi are home!"

No response. The house was terrifyingly still. Not a single light on.

Megumi's heart dropped hard. Without even taking off the shoes, bolting straight into the living room. "Tsumiki!"

By the pale moonlight filtering through the window, they saw Tsumiki lying quietly on the sofa, eyes closed, face drained of all color. Toji crossed the room in a single stride and pressed two fingers to the carotid artery. Pulse present. Breathing steady. Like someone who had simply fallen asleep. But the instant his fingers made contact with Tsumiki's skin, something in Toji's eyes changed completely.

A trace of Cursed Energy residue, impossibly faint, yet unmistakably acrid, clung like a parasite buried into the deepest layer of Tsumiki's soul.

"That's the signature of Idle Transfiguration." Megumi's voice was trembling.

But Mahito had already been devoured by Kenjaku.

"A remotely triggered technique, applied in advance." Toji straightened up. Every trace of casual indifference and hot-blooded grin evaporated from his face in an instant.

What remained came from somewhere deep in the soul. An extreme, bone-cold fury.

That line Kenjaku had thrown out while fleeing, a game for a new age, had just closed into a perfect loop.

He hadn't only broken the seals of those who had been marked. He had forcibly dragged Tsumiki into this damned game as well.

"Dad..." Megumi's fists clenched tight, fingernails pressing deep into flesh.

Toji Fushiguro said nothing. He turned, walked to the window, and stared out at the fires still burning in the direction of Shibuya. Every muscle in his body locked to its absolute limit in one instant. His bones let out a grinding crack that set teeth on edge.

"You dared to touch my daughter."

Toji's voice had dropped so low it was like a bloodthirsty beast quietly sharpening its teeth. Not a trace remained of the warmth of any youthful teacher.

"Whether you call yourself Kamo Noritoshi, or whatever brain-in-a-jar with sutures you are —"

"I will drag you out, inch by inch, and grind your brain into paste."

➤ Next: Yuta Returns