The return to Tokyo felt wrong.
Kage couldn't articulate why—his enhanced senses detected no immediate threats, the escort vehicle was secure, and Jujutsu High's barriers hummed with protective cursed energy as they approached. But something in the air tasted like copper and inevitability.
Like blood before it was spilled.
"You're tense," Suguru observed from beside him. Riko slept against Kuroi's shoulder, exhausted from her final day of freedom. Gojo drove with deceptive casualness, his Six Eyes constantly scanning for threats.
"I'm always tense."
"This is different. You've been on edge since Okinawa." Suguru's cursed energy signature carried concern. "Did something happen?"
Everything and nothing. Kage had felt Toji's presence yesterday, tracked the Sorcerer Killer's absence-that-was-presence for hours, and said nothing. Let Riko have her day. Let her choose life before it was stolen.
Selfish. Dangerous. Potentially catastrophic.
"Just a feeling," Kage lied. "Ignore it."
But feelings had kept him alive through the Zen'in training pits, through six years of jujutsu high, through missions that should've killed him. And right now, every instinct screamed danger.
They passed through Jujutsu High's outer barrier. Then the secondary defensive layer. Then—
The barrier shattered.
Not broke. Not failed. Shattered—torn apart by something that shouldn't exist, cursed energy barriers ripped open like paper by an absence that consumed protection itself.
"AMBUSH!" Gojo's Infinity activated instantly, wrapping around the vehicle as it skidded to a halt. "Everyone out! Defensive formation! Suguru, get Riko to the Tombs! Kage, with me!"
They moved with practiced efficiency. Kage's shadow expanded to cover their exit. Suguru manifested cursed spirits to form a protective corridor. Gojo's cursed energy output spiked to combat levels.
And then he appeared.
Toji Fushiguro.
No dramatic entrance. No cursed energy announcement. Just there—standing in the corridor like he'd always been standing there, like reality had edited itself to include him retroactively.
The Sorcerer Killer. The man who existed outside jujutsu society's rules. The ghost who'd taught Kage how to fight blind.
The mentor who'd become the enemy.
"Hey, kid," Toji said, his voice carrying casual recognition. "Been a while."
Kage's blood ran cold.
The corridor. Ambush.
Gojo reacted first—his Infinity already active, his cursed energy compressed into an offensive technique that should've obliterated Toji where he stood.
Should've.
Toji moved.
Not fast. Impossibly fast. His body a blur of motion that defied perception, his complete absence of cursed energy making him invisible to every tracking method sorcerers relied on. Gojo's attack hit empty space. And Toji was already behind him, a blade manifesting from somewhere that wasn't quite space.
The Inverted Spear of Heaven.
Kage recognized it immediately—a cursed tool that negated cursed techniques on contact. Gojo's Infinity flickered as the blade approached, spatial manipulation disrupted by the spear's nullification properties.
"GOJO!" Kage's shadow erupted, tendrils of solid darkness intercepting the blade. Metal met darkness and—
The shadows died.
Not dispersed. Not pushed back. Died—the cursed energy comprising them negated on contact, Kage's technique simply ceasing to exist where the Inverted Spear touched.
"Smart," Toji observed, dancing backward. "Using your shadows as a shield. But you can't maintain that forever. And I only need one opening."
Gojo recovered, his Six Eyes analyzing Toji's movements at impossible speeds. "The Sorcerer Killer. Heard you were in town. Didn't expect you to be stupid enough to attack Jujutsu High directly."
"Not stupid. Confident." Toji's smile was sharp. "I've killed sorcerers stronger than you, kid. What makes you special?"
"This."
Gojo's cursed energy output quadrupled. The corridor shook. And for the first time since Kage had known him, Gojo looked angry.
"Suguru! GO!" Gojo's Infinity expanded into an offensive barrier. "Get Rico to the Tombs! I'll handle this!"
"You can't fight him alone—" Suguru started.
"I'm not alone. Kage is here." Gojo's Six Eyes glowed with absolute certainty. "And we're about to show this relic why the new generation is stronger."
Suguru hesitated, but Riko's safety took priority. He vanished down the corridor with cursed spirits carrying Riko and Kuroi, his cursed energy signature moving toward the Tombs at maximum speed.
Leaving Kage and Gojo facing Toji.
Teacher and students.
Pariah and prodigies.
The man who transcended cursed energy versus the two who'd been born drowning in it.
"So," Toji said, addressing Kage directly. "This is your choice? Standing with jujutsu society against me?"
"This is my choice," Kage confirmed, his shadow reforming despite the Inverted Spear's threat. "Standing with my friends against someone trying to kill a fourteen-year-old girl."
"Noble. Stupid, but noble." Toji's expression was unreadable. "Remember what I taught you, kid. About being strong enough that they can't control you?"
"I remember everything you taught me."
"Good. Because I'm about to teach you one more lesson." Toji's absence-that-was-presence intensified. "That strength without willingness to use it is just cowardice wearing a hero's mask."
He attacked.
The battle. Escalation.
Toji moved like water and lightning combined—fluid adaptation meeting explosive speed. The Inverted Spear cut through Kage's shadows like they were made of smoke. His physical prowess outpaced Gojo's defensive calculations. And his complete lack of cursed energy made him effectively invisible to standard tracking.
But Kage had trained for this.
Three weeks with Toji had taught him to fight without cursed energy perception. To read opponents through air displacement, sound, spatial awareness. To trust instinct over analysis.
He felt Toji's attack pattern. Recognized the rhythm—the same rhythm Toji had beaten into him through brutal sparring sessions. And when the Sorcerer Killer lunged, Kage's body moved on pure muscle memory.
Dodge. Counter. Shadow binding not where Toji was, but where he'd be in half a second.
The darkness caught Toji's ankle. For one heartbeat, the Sorcerer Killer was immobilized.
Gojo's cursed energy compressed into a point. "Got you."
The attack should've killed Toji. Should've ended the fight instantly.
Toji smiled.
His caught foot twisted impossibly, joints dislocating and relocating with casual disregard for anatomy. The shadow binding shattered. And Toji was moving, the Inverted Spear tracing an arc toward Gojo's throat—
Kage's Photonic flash erupted between them.
Light—searing, absolute, blinding even to those without sight. Toji flinched, his perfectly adapted combat senses overwhelmed by the sudden luminosity. Gojo used the opening to retreat, his Infinity recalibrating.
"New trick," Toji observed, his voice carrying approval despite the circumstances. "The light technique. You've developed it since we last met."
"Had good motivation." Kage's cursed energy was depleting—using both Abyss and Photonic in rapid succession was taxing. "You know I can't let you kill Riko."
"And you know I've accepted the contract. Someone's paying very well to prevent the merger." Toji's blade shifted, cursed tools manifesting from that space-that-wasn't. "So we're at an impasse. You won't back down. I won't fail the contract. Which means—"
He moved faster than before.
The Inverted Spear came from three angles simultaneously—no, that was wrong. Toji was so fast he created afterimages, his physical movement transcending what Kage's enhanced senses could fully track.
"KAGE!" Gojo's warning came half a second too late.
The blade found flesh.
Not the heart—Kage's instincts had moved him just enough—but his shoulder. The Inverted Spear pierced through muscle and bone, its nullification properties turning the wound into agony that couldn't be healed through reverse cursed technique.
Kage gasped, his cursed energy flickering as the spear's negation spread through his body.
"Sorry, kid," Toji said quietly, his voice genuinely regretful. "But I warned you. Strength means being willing to do what's necessary."
He twisted the blade.
Pain exploded white-hot. Kage's shadow technique collapsed, his Photonic light stuttered out, and suddenly he was just a sixteen-year-old boy with a piece of cursed metal through his shoulder facing the Sorcerer Killer.
"KAGE!" Gojo's cursed energy erupted with rage. "YOU'RE DEAD!"
What followed was violence on a scale Kage had never witnessed.
Gojo, pushed beyond casual confidence into genuine fury, unleashed cursed energy output that cracked the corridor walls. His Infinity compressed and expanded in waves, creating spatial distortions that should've torn Toji apart.
But the Sorcerer Killer had fought sorcerers his entire life. He knew their patterns, their tells, their overreliance on cursed techniques. When Gojo attacked with overwhelming power, Toji responded with surgical precision.
The Inverted Spear met Infinity.
And for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo's absolute defense failed.
Defeat.
Kage watched through pain-blurred senses as Toji dismantled Gojo.
Not through superior strength—Gojo's cursed energy output was higher. Not through better technique—Gojo's mastery was absolute. But through understanding. Toji had spent a lifetime killing sorcerers. He knew where Infinity was strongest, where it was weakest, how to exploit the microseconds between defensive adjustments.
The Inverted Spear found gaps that shouldn't exist.
And Satoru Gojo—the strongest sorcerer of his generation, the Six Eyes user, the untouchable—fell.
Not dead. Toji wasn't here for Gojo. But incapacitated, his Infinity disrupted, his cursed energy in chaos from the spear's nullification.
"Nothing personal, kid," Toji said to Gojo's crumpled form. "Just business."
Then he turned to Kage, still struggling to stand with the Inverted Spear lodged in his shoulder.
"And you." Toji's expression was complicated—regret, approval, disappointment, pride, all mixed together. "You hesitated. I felt it when we fought. You recognized my style and pulled your attacks. Couldn't bring yourself to seriously hurt your teacher."
"You're not my teacher anymore," Kage managed through gritted teeth.
"No. Now I'm your enemy. And you learned the hard way that hesitation gets people killed." Toji pulled the Inverted Spear from Kage's shoulder in one brutal motion. "Remember this feeling, kid. Remember what it costs to care about people in a world built on violence."
Kage collapsed, blood pooling beneath him, cursed energy too disrupted to heal.
"Are you really going to kill Riko?" The question came out weak, desperate.
"Contract says prevent the merger. Dead vessel accomplishes that." Toji moved toward where Suguru had fled with Riko. "Sorry. But like I told you—being strong means being alone. And I chose that path a long time ago."
"Wait—" Kage tried to stand, failed, his body refusing to obey. "Toji, please—"
"You'll survive. The spear's nullification is temporary. In an hour, your reverse cursed technique will work again." Toji paused at the corridor's end. "And when it does, you'll have a choice. Stay down like a good little sorcerer. Or get up and try to stop me."
He vanished.
No dramatic exit. No final villain speech. Just gone, his absence-that-was-presence fading as he moved toward the Tombs where Suguru was desperately trying to protect Riko.
Kage lay in his own blood, pinned by wounds that couldn't heal, watching Gojo's unconscious form and understanding with terrible clarity what had happened.
They'd lost.
The strongest sorcerers of their generation—defeated by a man with no cursed energy through pure skill, experience, and the willingness to do whatever was necessary.
Toji's final lesson was written in Kage's blood: strength without ruthlessness was just weakness with good intentions.
Aftermath. Thirty minutes later.
Suguru found them.
He stumbled into the corridor, his cursed energy signature devastated, his physical body battered but functional. No Riko. No Kuroi.
"He took her," Suguru gasped, collapsing beside Kage. "Toji—he cut through my cursed spirits like they were nothing. I couldn't—he was too fast—I failed—"
"We all failed," Kage said quietly, his reverse cursed technique finally beginning to work as the Inverted Spear's nullification faded. "Gojo's down. I'm barely functional. And Toji's gone with Riko."
"Is she—"
"I don't know. The contract was to prevent the merger. Whether that means killing her or just keeping her away until the time window passes..." Kage forced himself to sit up, every movement agony. "We need to find them. Need to—"
"Need to what?" Suguru's voice was hollow. "We lost, Kage. The three strongest second-years in jujutsu history, and we lost to one man with a sword and zero cursed energy."
"Because we weren't prepared. Because we underestimated him. Because I—" Kage's voice cracked. "Because I felt him in Okinawa and said nothing. Wanted to give Riko one more day. And that hesitation cost us everything."
The silence that followed was heavy with guilt and grief.
"You felt him and said nothing?" Suguru's cursed energy flickered with something dark.
"I wanted her to be happy. Just for one day. Thought we'd have time to prepare, thought we could handle it, thought—" Kage laughed bitterly. "I thought wrong. And now she's probably dead because I chose her happiness over tactical advantage."
"That's not—" Suguru stopped, seemed to collapse inward. "No. You're right. We all failed. I should've been stronger, should've protected her better, should've—" His hands clenched into fists. "What's the point? What's the point of being strong if we can't protect one girl?"
Kage didn't have an answer.
They sat in the blood-stained corridor—two prodigies who'd learned that strength had limits, that good intentions weren't enough, that the world didn't care how hard you tried if you failed anyway.
"Gojo's waking up," Kage said, feeling his friend's cursed energy signature stabilizing. "We need to—"
"Find Toji," Gojo's voice was cold, empty, nothing like his usual confidence. "Find him. Stop him. Save Riko."
He stood, and Kage felt the shift immediately. Gojo's cursed energy was different now—denser, more controlled, something fundamental had changed during his unconsciousness.
"You're hurt," Suguru observed.
"I'm fine." Gojo's Six Eyes glowed with unnatural intensity. "I understand now. How Infinity works. How to make it automatic. How to—" He stopped, his attention turning outward. "I can feel him. Toji. His absence is like a hole in reality. I know where he is."
"Then we go," Kage said, forcing himself to stand despite his injuries. "Together. End this."
"No." Gojo's voice was absolute. "This is my fight. He beat me once. He doesn't get to beat me twice."
"Gojo, that's—"
"Final." The cursed energy output that accompanied the word made the corridor tremble. "You're both injured. Riko's probably already dead. This isn't about rescue anymore. This is about making sure Toji Fushiguro never kills another sorcerer again."
He vanished—not walked away, vanished—his mastery of cursed energy manipulation suddenly allowing techniques that shouldn't be possible.
Leaving Kage and Suguru alone in the corridor with blood and failure and the crushing weight of inadequacy.
"We lost," Suguru said quietly. "Even if Gojo kills Toji now, we already lost."
"I know."
"Riko trusted us. And we failed her."
"I know."
"So what now?"
Kage looked at his blood-stained hands, felt the injuries that were slowly healing, catalogued the ways this day had destroyed everything they'd been building toward.
"Now we live with it," he said finally. "Live with the failure. Learn from it. Make sure it never happens again."
"And if we can't learn? If we just keep failing despite being 'the strongest'?"
"Then we weren't actually the strongest. We were just kids playing at being heroes until reality showed us otherwise."
The words tasted like ash.
But they were true.