Night had settled heavily over the neighborhood, cloaking everything in deceptive tranquility. But inside the Geto household, the silence shattered violently.
"AHHHHH!"
Shiina's agonized scream pierced through the night, filled with unimaginable pain and terror.
"Stop! Please, hel—!"
Schwik!
Her voice was abruptly silenced by another merciless stab.
Masamune lay pinned to the cold floor, immobilized beneath Toji's heavy boot, forced to watch helplessly as his wife suffered. Despair gripped him, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face.
"Shiina! No! Stop, please! WHY!?" Masamune screamed, his voice breaking with anguish.
They had been sleeping peacefully when suddenly two intruders shattered their lives. The nightmare was swift and merciless.
"Good. She's finally dead," a chilling voice murmured. "Toji, remember—never speak of this again."
The man stepped into the dim glow of moonlight streaming through the window, revealing a pale face smeared with blood. White hair, golden eyes glowing ominously, and fingertips sharpened like blades—Seijuro Gojo stood there, devoid of any remorse.
"Seijuro..." Toji muttered quietly, disbelief etched deeply into his features.
When Seijuro had asked him to accompany him tonight, he'd expected a casual drink, perhaps a discussion, not the brutal murder of innocent people. Toji had never pegged Seijuro as the type to commit such cruelty, especially against a family entirely unrelated to the jujutsu world.
"Why...?" Masamune's voice trembled. His eyes filled with grief and confusion. "We did nothing wrong! Why are you doing this to us?!"
Seijuro's face remained impassive, coldly detached. "It's for the greater good. You'll thank me later."
Masamune stared in shock, unable to comprehend. What greater good justified this horror? His wife had never harmed anyone. None of this made sense.
Toji's eyes narrowed as he observed Seijuro closely. This wasn't the Seijuro he knew. The golden eyes, the emotionless cruelty—it was as though another being entirely had taken control. A cold dread enveloped him, gripping his chest. For the first time in his life, Toji Fushiguro felt genuine fear.
Seijuro turned slowly, his golden eyes fixating on Toji. "Dispose of her body and clean up thoroughly. Afterward, take Suguru Geto—the kid—to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Trap him there for the entire day, but leave enough food so he survives."
Toji hesitated for only a fraction of a second, his heart racing uncontrollably. He felt a terrifying pressure from Seijuro's gaze—as if resisting meant death.
Slowly, reluctantly, Toji nodded.
Masamune, overwhelmed by grief and shock, began struggling futilely beneath Toji's foot, eyes wide with horror. "No... Suguru... leave my son alone! Please!"
Ignoring Masamune's desperate pleas, Seijuro knelt calmly, extending one bloodied, razor-sharp fingertip toward Masamune's forehead.
"I'll make sure you forget everything. Your mind will be mine to shape."
Masamune fought against the encroaching darkness, desperate to protect his son, but it was futile. His vision blurred, consciousness fading as everything around him slipped into nothingness.
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Masamune suddenly jolted awake, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. His heart pounded heavily in his chest as he lay sprawled on the sofa, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
"What...was that?" he whispered, trembling.
Images from the vivid nightmare flashed through his mind—the terrifying sight of a woman being attacked, screaming for help. The anguish in her eyes felt unbearably real.
"But...who was that woman?" Masamune murmured softly, his voice shaking. "My wife? But...that's impossible. I never got married, and Suguru is—ugh!"
A sharp pain erupted in his head, interrupting his thoughts. He groaned softly, clutching his temples. Confusion and dread mixed within him as he tried to understand the fragments of memories or dreams that plagued him.
The door creaked open, interrupting his internal struggle.
"Dad?" Suguru's soft voice carried concern. He stood at the doorway, backpack slung loosely over his shoulder. "Are you okay? Why are you crying?"
Masamune quickly sat up, hastily wiping away tears he hadn't realized had fallen. He mustered a weak smile, hoping to reassure his son. "Ah, it's nothing, Suguru. I was just... having a bad dream."
Suguru approached carefully, setting his backpack down and sitting beside his father. His gaze was earnest, deeply worried. "Did something happen? You looked really scared."
Masamune's smile faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. "No, don't worry about it. It was just a nightmare, nothing more. Forget about it."
Suguru hesitated, then nodded slowly. He knew better than to press too hard. "Okay, Dad. If you say so."
Masamune glanced at the backpack beside Suguru and changed the subject. "Did you pack everything you need?"
Suguru brightened a little. "Yeah, I've got everything. Clothes, toothbrush, snacks... everything you told me to bring."
"Good," Masamune replied softly, relief washing through him.
The arrangement with Seijuro was already set: Suguru would stay at the Gojo compound five days each week to train and learn to control his cursed energy. Although Masamune was still uncertain about the whole concept, he trusted Seijuro's judgment.
Still, an unsettling feeling lingered. His dream had felt too vivid, too real. Seijuro's face had been devoid of emotion, and that terrified him. The image of the woman lifeless haunted him deeply. Even if it was merely a nightmare, it felt disturbingly significant.
"Suguru..." Masamune said suddenly, turning toward his son and gently gripping his shoulders. "Promise me you'll stay safe. Be careful, and please...whatever you do, don't make Seijuro-san angry."
Suguru blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in his father's voice. "Why would I make him angry?"
Masamune shook his head gently, unable to find the right words. "Just promise me."
"Alright," Suguru nodded solemnly. "I promise, Dad."