"What? Souma Gojo is critically wounded? Satoru Gojo is sealed, his fate unknown?"
When the reports reached the strongholds of the Three Great Families, countless elders felt a tremor of excitement so profound it nearly bordered on the religious. Finally. The two mountains that had loomed over their heads, suffocating their influence and stifling their traditional authority, had been moved.
After the initial rush of adrenaline, however, the ever-cautious higher-ups did not act immediately. They were old, but they weren't stupid. They dispatched clandestine agents to verify the claims with surgical precision.
First was Souma Gojo. In front of a public crowd in Shibuya, the elder twin had been carried, bloodied and broken, into Shoko Ieiri's laboratory. When the higher-ups arrived under the guise of "concerned visitation," Shoko had played her part perfectly. She opened the heavy laboratory doors just enough for them to witness Souma floating in a massive glass cultivation tank, eyes closed, skin pale, and chest barely moving.
The sight was all the confirmation they needed. While surprising, it wasn't entirely illogical. Their opponent had been Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses who had dominated the Golden Age of Sorcery. Even a monster like Souma Gojo would eventually meet a greater calamity.
With Souma accounted for, they turned to Satoru.
By cross-referencing the testimonies of the civilians Satoru had saved in the subway with the recovered, grainy footage from the mangled security systems, the narrative was set in stone. Satoru Gojo had been successfully sealed within the Prison Realm.
Once the truth was solidified, the champagne corks began to fly in the darkened boardrooms of the jujutsu world. Without the Six Eyes twins to suppress them, they were free to manipulate power, settle old debts, and steer the world back toward the "proper" traditions.
As for the remaining threats...
Yuki Tsukumo rarely bothered with the affairs of the Tokyo High, and Yuta Okkotsu was still a mere student, far removed from the political machinations of the upper echelons. Toji Fushiguro wasn't even a sorcerer in their eyes; he was a nuisance to be ignored or eventually handled through numbers.
Suguru Geto was the only remaining thorn. As the best friend of the twins, he had once stood openly against the higher-ups. However, Geto was a man of non-sorcerer origin; he had no standing in the internal politics of the Three Great Families.
The higher-ups calculated their odds and realized this was a god-given opportunity. As long as they avoided a direct confrontation with Geto for the time being, the school and the government were theirs to command.
Their first target? The man who had created the Abrupt-Mutated Cursed Corpse, Panda: Principal Masamichi Yaga.
Inside the Former Base of Kokichi Muta
Kokichi Muta, now restored to his true form, walked up to Souma Gojo. "Souma-sensei, my Mechamaru units have successfully bypassed the Tokyo High mainframe. Working in tandem with Suguru-sensei's cursed spirits, the entire jujutsu world is now under our surveillance."
Nearby, Souma was turning the reconstructed Prison Realm over in his hands, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns on its surface. Hearing Kokichi's report, he nodded. "Good work, Kokichi. I know it wasn't easy."
Kokichi shook his head, a look of quiet gratitude on his face. "If it weren't for you, Sensei, I would have died at Mahito's hands. I never would have seen my friends again. Consider this a small installment on the debt I owe you."
Souma leaned in, a mischievous, gossipy grin breaking across his face. "Speaking of friends... how are things going with you and Miwa?"
Kokichi's face instantly turned a shade of red that rivaled a boiling kettle, steam practically hissing from his ears. "Ah, that... I mean..."
"Souma, maybe you should spend more time worrying about yourself and Shoko," Suguru Geto interjected, stretching his arms over his head as he walked into the room.
"Shut it, Suguru! Are things between you and Miss Haruko really going that much better?"
"Urusai! You total—wait."
Both Souma and Suguru stopped mid-argument, their heads snapping toward the open fields outside the base.
"That cursed energy fluctuation?"
They hurried out to the clearing. High in the air, Satoru Gojo was drifting aimlessly, looking as light and effortless as a fallen feather. But with every casual twitch of his fingers, the space around him buckled and warped. The air looked like shifting curtains, then shattered glass, then open doorways into nothingness.
Watching that familiar yet evolved manipulation of cursed energy, Geto's eyes widened.
"A Maximum Technique?"
"He's manipulating the very coordinates of space," Souma noted, watching his brother with a mix of pride and annoyance. "It seems Satoru learned a lot more in that box than just how to troll his captors."
Up in the sky, Satoru moved. He waved a hand, and the world seemed to turn inside out. The horizon and the sky swapped places; space was torn apart and re-stitched with the whimsical logic of a fever dream. It was beautiful, terrifying, and utterly alien.
"Maximum Technique: Universe!"
Satoru's eyes glowed with an ethereal light. He threw his head back, his expression one of pure, unadulterated joy. For that moment, he looked like a god who had finally found the keys to his own kingdom.
"Alright, that's enough. Stop showing off and get down here!" Souma shouted, his voice cutting through the atmospheric distortion.
The divine aura shattered instantly. Satoru's face fell, his cool factor evaporating into thin air. "Can't you just let me have one cool moment? Just one?"
He snapped his fingers, and the distorted space snapped back into its proper dimensions as he floated gently to the ground.
"Maximum Technique?" Geto asked, genuinely impressed. "Universe, you called it?"
Satoru puffed out his chest, looking insufferably smug. "Universe. As in the infinite expanse of the four directions. Infinite Space."
"A spatial technique? What's the specific effect?"
"I can control the coordinates of everything in my vicinity. Like this!" Satoru flicked his wrist.
Slap!
His right hand vanished into a ripple in the air and reappeared directly behind Suguru Geto, delivering a sharp, resounding smack to his backside.
Satoru pulled his hand back, rubbing his fingers together with a lecherous grin. "Ohoho~ Quite the bounce you've got there, Suguru!"
"..."
Geto's face went pitch black, a vein throbbing dangerously in his temple. "You chose to hit me instead of Souma?"
"I'm not suicidal, Suguru."
"..."
"Good choice, little brother," Souma said, patting Satoru on the shoulder.
Satoru leaned in closer to Souma, his voice dropping into a teasing, high-pitched sing-song. "Ehehehe~ Hey, brother. It looks like out of the three of us, you're the only one left who hasn't mastered a Maximum Technique yet."
"Maybe if you tried cross-dressing, Suguru and I could give you a few lessons~"
Geto smiled thinly, his voice dripping with mock concern. "I'm not actually interested in seeing Souma in a dress, but I do think having a Maximum Technique would improve your chances against Sukuna, Souma. We're only thinking of your safety."
Souma turned on his heel and began walking away with stone-cold silence.
"I'm done. I'm not staying in the same room as you two idiots. I feel my IQ dropping just by association. Our friendship is a stain on my legacy."
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