Chapter 88 — Jogo Enters the Battle
"Hahahahahahahaha!!"
Sukuna's manic laughter echoed through the ruins of Shibuya.
Streetlights flickered wildly, and the towers surrounding them trembled from the force of their clash.
In the shadows below, terrified civilians huddled together, hands over their heads, praying the gods of this nightmare would overlook them.
"You trying to protect these pathetic humans too?" Sukuna taunted between blows.
The two figures moved faster than sight—colliding midair, then splitting apart in blinding flashes.
"You don't seem like the type," Sukuna sneered.
"I'm not that bored," Zen'in Shinsuke replied calmly, landing on the top of a skyscraper. He grinned, eyes glinting with feral amusement. "Still… I'll give you credit. Your close combat's not bad."
For someone relying purely on physical reinforcement and raw technique, Sukuna's movements were precise, almost artful.
It was clear now why he was called the King of Curses.
"But," Shinsuke continued, stretching his neck as steam began to rise from his skin, "if you don't start using a proper technique… I won't be holding back anymore."
His body flushed crimson. Veins bulged like molten iron beneath his skin. Steam hissed from his pores, swirling around him like a shroud of fury.
He stood there at the edge of the rooftop, arms open wide, his grin sharpening into something primal.
"This aura…" Sukuna muttered, floating in midair, eyes narrowing.
"It's the same as back then—when you killed Hanami."
The air itself seemed to bend around Shinsuke. His entire presence had shifted.
The calm had vanished, replaced by something ancient, violent, and alive.
"Oh, this is much better," Sukuna said, smiling wider.
"Let's make it fun—starting with you. Then, I'll slaughter everyone in Shibuya!"
His killing intent erupted like a wave, and without a single gesture, the invisible blades of his technique Cleave shot out.
BOOM!
The world shattered.
Entire buildings split cleanly apart, tumbling like paper as Sukuna's slashes tore the city to pieces.
The next instant, he poured even more cursed energy into the attack, the air screaming under the pressure. The invisible blades multiplied, faster than the human eye could track.
SWISH!
But the figure on the rooftop was gone.
"Behind you," a voice whispered.
Sukuna's instincts screamed. A chill ran down his spine—he twisted aside, instinctively releasing Dismantle, barely dodging.
A crimson blur had appeared where he'd been floating.
The speed—it wasn't movement anymore. It was teleportation through sheer physical mastery.
This guy wasn't just fast—he was inhuman.
Swinging the Heavenly Inverted Spear, Shinsuke shredded through Sukuna's counterattack, dispersing every incoming blade of cursed energy like it was mist.
"Keeping your distance, huh?" Shinsuke smirked. "You and Gojo really are the same type."
Sukuna didn't answer. His focus sharpened; he was studying, analyzing, calculating every motion.
Zero-distance "Dismantle" had failed—this man had reacted, physically sensed it.
"Even my point-blank Cleave can't catch you," Sukuna muttered, a grin creeping across his face. "You're a freak."
He'd fought countless martial prodigies in his thousand-year reign—but this one was different.
He'd discarded cursed energy entirely, turning the limitations of the human body into a weapon that mocked the very foundation of Jujutsu itself.
"Your existence," Sukuna said softly, "is an insult to sorcerers everywhere."
"If someone like you defeats me," his voice lowered, "then every Jujutsu sorcerer on earth becomes meaningless."
Though he wasn't yet at full power—his tone held no arrogance now.
Only something that almost resembled… respect.
Then—
SWISH! SWISH!
A new surge of cursed energy tore through the battlefield from afar.
Both men turned at once.
Sparks of molten flame flared in the distance.
Jogo had arrived.
Two pure slashes of air shot toward Sukuna. He raised a hand and warded them off.
Seeing the smile on Shinsuke's face, Sukuna's expression darkened—he felt insulted, as if someone had underestimated him.
"You bastard—I'm the villain here!" he snarled.
In an instant, a deluge of slashes descended, filling the sky and cutting off every route of retreat around Shinsuke.
"Too fast? Fine—then I'll win by sheer volume." Sukuna's intent was clear: if he couldn't outpace his foe, he would overwhelm him.
Shinsuke read the intent perfectly. "Not bad—if I didn't have the Heavenly Inverted Halberd, I might've had to tank this." He swung the halberd, and his arm blurred into a thousand afterimages, as if many hands were swinging at once. Within roughly a meter of his body a shimmering shield formed; countless slashes struck it and rang out like a chorus of blades.
"How is this possible?! Those slashes are completely undetectable to me!"
Far off, Jogo stared with wide eyes. He could not accept what he saw: a man with no cursed energy deflecting attacks that shouldn't even be perceivable to ordinary beings.
It made no sense.
Jogo imagined himself at the center of that storm—could he survive? The answer was no. He'd always known the gulf between himself and Sukuna, which is why reviving Sukuna completely had been so important to their plan. If Sukuna returned—even if Sukuna didn't join them—human rule might collapse and curses could claim the world. That single change was all Jogo ever wanted.
He'd thought that eliminating Gojo would make everything smooth. Now—things were going wrong.
"This man must die," Jogo decided. He believed that if he and Sukuna struck together they could take Shinsuke down. Even if Sukuna might turn on him later, Jogo chose vengeance over caution: he would avenge Hanami and Dagon now.
Jogo thrust both hands forward at the man blocking Sukuna's slashes. "Die!"
A monstrous blast of compressed flames erupted from his palms and rocketed toward Shinsuke—bright and hellish against the city's night.
"Hot-pot head, huh? Let's do this together." Shinsuke glanced at the incoming inferno, increased the speed of his halberd sweep, and vanished from his rooftop in a blink.
The flames struck empty air; the ground below was scorched into a molten sheet.
"You want to die?" Sukuna fixed a murderous gaze on Jogo—who now stood on another building's roof. How dare a curse barge into his fight? From ancient times, people teamed up against him—no one was used to him teaming up with others. The audacity enraged him.
"Lord Sukuna, I only want to avenge my two comrades," Jogo said, trying to sound conciliatory as sweat beaded at the base of his volcano-like head.
"Does that matter? Sukuna, you're being stingy—don't you even allow others to take revenge?" Shinsuke quipped, stepping in to calm things. He couldn't let Sukuna kill Jogo; the curse was useful to him—tellingly, Jogo had supplied Sukuna ten fingers' worth of power. Shinsuke had designs for that.
"Or do you want me to exact vengeance for them?" Shinsuke taunted Sukuna without mercy.
Shinsuke's mocking cut deep. Sukuna's temper flared. These two—Gojo and now this Zen'in man—were perhaps the most obnoxious opponents he'd ever faced. He admitted, grudgingly, that both were interesting.
"All right," Sukuna said at last. "You're fine. I won't stop you from getting your revenge—just don't interfere with me. If you get in my way, don't be surprised when you die."
On the strength of those ten fingers—the morsels Jogo had supplied—Sukuna chose to spare him this time.
"Understood," Jogo replied, expression set. He'd confine himself to long-range support and avoid close-quarters fighting at all costs.
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