February 14, 2013, Thursday, 10:00 pm, Nondescript building..., Ebisu, Tokyo...
The dim glow of a single overhead lamp flickered against the cracked concrete walls of the room. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of damp wood, mingling with the quiet tension that suffocated the space.
A group of shadowy figures gathered around a low wooden table, their faces mostly obscured by darkness. The only one fully visible was Coach Hajime Onizuka, sweating, pale, and visibly shaken. He sat stiffly, his shoulders hunched as if trying to make himself smaller, eyes darting between the three individuals before him.
On his left, an elderly woman with deep wrinkles and long, silver hair tied in a loose bun scowled, her bony fingers tapping impatiently against the table. The dim light glinted off the rosary-like beads wrapped around her wrist, though their cursed energy suggested they were far from holy.
"What a disgrace," the shaman granny hissed, her raspy voice cutting through the silence like a dull knife. "Your incompetence has put our operations at risk. Tell me, Onizuka... did you actually think you could handle this mess alone?"
Onizuka flinched, his jaw tightening. He wanted to defend himself, to claim that the situation at Nakameguro High was under control, but he knew better than to lie. The marks from his recent beating, a swollen cheek, and bruised ribs were proof of his failure.
On his right, the second figure sat unmoving, his face obscured by the shadows of the low-hanging lamp. What little light there was reflected off the badge pinned to his chest, a distinct insignia that only high-ranking Tokyo Metropolitan Police officers possessed.
Onizuka swallowed hard. Even a cop was involved? That meant this went deeper than he thought.
Sitting behind a large wooden desk, the most imposing figure remained silent at the center of the room, fingers drumming against the aged surface. The sound was steady, almost hypnotic, like a countdown to something inevitable. His presence alone commanded respect and fear, a force far greater than the two individuals beside him.
The silence stretched on. Onizuka gritted his teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He knew he was standing on thin ice.
The imposing figures wasted no time tearing into Onizuka, their voices dripping with disdain and disappointment.
"First, Nakameguro High School," the shadowed officer muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "Then, the Meiji Jingu Gaien Ice Skating Rink. Two blunders in a row. Do you realize how much attention you've drawn to us, Onizuka?"
Onizuka lowered his head, his fists clenched on his lap. The humiliation of his suspension from Nakameguro High stung almost as much as his bruised body, a bitter reminder of his failure. But what truly gnawed at his pride was the utter defeat he suffered at the ice skating rink in front of those damn kids and their so-called guardians.
"You were given clear orders," the shaman granny interjected, her crooked fingers tightening around the cursed beads wrapped around her wrist. "And yet, thanks to your incompetence, we lost one of our most important enforcers."
Onizuka stiffened, already knowing where this was going.
Daisuke Onishi, "The Glutton," one of their key "resources," was gone. He had been arrested, stripped of his strength, and now awaited a trial that would inevitably put him away indefinitely. But the losses didn't end there.
They had also lost Big Nicky, an important experimental subject crucial to their cursed medicine development.
The shaman granny, her expression twisting in frustration, tapped her bony fingers against the table. "Damn it all," she muttered. "We still needed Big Nicky. The formula needs to be further developed."
Her milky-white eyes narrowed, her voice laced with irritation. "Without further testing, we won't reach the final stage of the enhancement serum. We can't afford any more setbacks."
"However," the shady police officer muttered, arms crossed as he leaned into the dim light, "at least we know the serum worked. We must remodel the formula to prevent uncontrolled outbursts… like what happened with that morphed freak, the Glutton."
The shaman granny clicked her tongue in irritation. "We still need Big Nicky. It's not every day you find someone with that level of compatibility. If we pick just anyone else, the progress slows to a crawl."
The room grew even heavier with the weight of their failures. They had lost more than just a brute enforcer; they had lost one of their most valuable test subjects.
The granny's milky-white eyes glared at him, her disappointment cutting deeper than a blade. "You were responsible for him, Onizuka. And tell me… what exactly did you give him?"
Onizuka's throat went dry. "T-The usual dose," he muttered, knowing that wasn't the answer she wanted.
The shaman granny let out a sharp, dry chuckle that sent chills down the spine.
"No, you fool. You gave the fat bloke the wrong dose." Her voice dropped to a whisper, laced with venomous amusement. "You didn't overdose him like you should have. You gave him something else. Something far worse."
The room felt colder.
Onizuka's breath hitched. "W-What?" he stammered.
The granny leaned forward, her wrinkled lips curling into something that resembled a sneer.
"That wasn't a simple strength-enhancer or pain nullifier." Her words dripped with malice. "That was the 'special medicine.' The one meant for curse users."
A heavy silence fell upon the room.
Onizuka froze, his body going rigid as realization sank in like poison. He hadn't just screwed up. He had created a monster.
The shaman granny's complaints dragged on, her raspy voice thick with frustration. But eventually, another voice cut through the noise, low, measured, and authoritative.
The mysterious police officer, still cloaked in shadow, finally spoke. "Enough."
The single word commanded attention, silencing the room. The mysterious officer adjusted the badge on his chest, the slight metallic glint reflecting in the dim light.
"There's something else we need to discuss," he continued. "The two unknown variables: Akato and Elric."
Onizuka felt his stomach knot at the mention of those names. The officer exhaled slowly, irritation creeping into his tone.
"I've done my digging. Elric wasn't difficult to trace on paper, at least. He has a background in an American university. That much is clear." He leaned back, his fingers tapping against the table in slow, deliberate beats. "But beyond that?" He let the question hang for a moment before answering it himself. "Everything is classified."
A ripple of unease passed through the room.
The shaman granny scoffed, her aged lips curling in mild amusement. "Classified?" she echoed. "By who?"
The officer took a slow drag of his cigarette before responding.
"Government-level. I don't know which branch, but the restrictions placed on his records aren't ordinary. That level of clearance is usually reserved for military personnel… or something worse."
The granny let out a dry, unimpressed laugh. "Don't be ridiculous," she sneered. "That interloper is too young to have military experience."
The officer exhaled another plume of smoke, shaking his head. "I don't know what he is, but someone went through a lot of trouble to keep his past locked up."
A tense pause followed as speculation bounced between them, none reaching a solid conclusion.
Finally, the imposing figure at the desk lifted a single hand, his fingers halting their rhythmic tapping.
"Put Elric aside for now." His voice was calm yet absolute. "We'll revisit him when we have more."
The officer gave a slow nod. "That brings us to Akato."
The very name sent a ripple of unease through the room.
Onizuka stiffened. The officer's voice dropped lower.
"A nuisance." His frown deepened. "No records. No details. No background. No trace." His fingers tightened around the cigarette. "It's as if he never existed."
A heavy silence followed.
Even the granny, who had been vocal moments before, said nothing.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the steady drip of a leaking pipe in the corner.
With no records and history, Akato was a ghost.
While the higher-ups continued their discussion, Onizuka's expression shifted.
The remorse on his face melted away, replaced by something far darker. Rage.
His fingers dug into his knees, his nails pressing hard enough to leave marks through the fabric of his pants. His mind burned with a single thought; Elric and Akato had ruined everything.
Those two bastards had humiliated him and stripped him of his standing, and now he was being lectured like a child in front of people who once feared him. It was unforgivable.
His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as a single vow took root in his mind. Onizuka would tear them to pieces. One way or another, he would make them pay.
But Onizuka wasn't the only one seeing the problem for what it was. The figures seated around the room, individuals far more powerful and connected than Onizuka, knew that Akato's existence posed a different danger.
A nonexistent man was always trouble. Someone without a past, without records, without even the faintest paper trail, that kind of person could mean two things. One, they were never meant to exist, or worse. Two, they had made sure no one could find them. And yet, Akato wasn't just a ghost; he was a ghost carrying something dangerous.
The incriminating data he possessed wasn't just a minor nuisance. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could draw the attention of Jujutsu HQ, a problem none of them wanted.
The room had already been tense, but at the mention of Jujutsu Headquarters, an unspoken agreement had been reached with the group.
That information needed to be retrieved before it got out of hand.
Before someone else, someone more dangerous, decided to dig deeper. But there was one major problem.
Akato had gone completely off the radar, and locating him wouldn't be difficult; it would be nearly impossible.
Onizuka interrupted the conversation, and the imposing figures gave a mean look at him. Onizuka tried to brush off their stare and pointed out that there was Elric. Onizuka heard from Akato that he was a disowned twin. Maybe capturing Elric could get Akato's attention.
The discussion was tense and deliberate, each figure calculating their next move until Onizuka rudely interrupted.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
The imposing figures slowly turned their heads toward him, their gazes sharp and ice-cold. Their stares carried weight, like a pack of wolves deciding whether or not to tear apart the wounded dog in front of them.
Onizuka briefly felt the pressure of his mistake, but he wasn't about to back down. Not now. Not after everything.
He scoffed, forcing himself to appear unshaken, and jabbed a finger toward the table.
"Elric." His voice carried a dark edge.
The figures said nothing, but the flickering shadows around them grew heavier.
Onizuka took it as a sign to continue. "I heard something... from Akato himself." He smirked slightly as if relishing the irony. "He called Elric his 'disowned twin.'"
That got their attention. The others exchanged glances, silent theories forming in their minds.
"If that's true," Onizuka continued, his confidence growing, "capturing Elric might force Akato out of hiding."
A wave of consideration rippled through the room. It made sense. If Elric was truly connected to Akato, then using him as bait was logical.
One of the shadowed figures leaned forward, his voice low and measured. "If Elric is important to Akato, then abducting him could be… useful."
But before the idea could gain momentum, the middle figure behind the desk finally spoke.
His voice was calm yet absolute. "Not yet."
Onizuka's brow furrowed. "Why?"
The middle figure tapped his fingers against the desk, his movements methodical and almost boring.
"We observe him first." His tone was final. "Before we make our move, we need confirmation. We need to determine if Akato and Elric are twins despite Akato's nonexistent records."
The others nodded in silent agreement.
Onizuka, however, was impatient. "And after we retrieve the incriminating data?" he asked, his tone eager.
The middle figure leaned back, his face obscured by shadows. But his words dripped with a cold, merciless amusement.
"After that?" He exhaled slowly as if considering the possibilities. "Do whatever you want."
Onizuka's lips curled into a wicked grin.
"Beat him up… burn him… chop him up…" The figure's voice remained eerily calm. "Whatever you want to do."
A shiver of twisted anticipation ran through Onizuka's spine.
"And the body?" Onizuka asked, his smirk widening.
The middle figure chuckled, "I'll take care of it."
Onizuka could barely contain himself. His hands twitched with excitement at the thought of finally tearing those interlopers apart. The room hummed with malicious energy, the insidious plan taking shape in the darkness.
Outside, the distant sound of the freeway rumbled through the air, drowning the city's secrets in an endless, unrelenting march of headlights and steel.
February 15, 2013, Friday, 6:00 am, Elric's Apartment, Nakemeguro, Tokyo...
Tokyo stirred in its usual rhythm, but the city had yet to fully wake. The sun remained hidden beyond the horizon, and only the faintest glow of dawn hinted at its arrival. Streetlights flickered against the quiet pavement, their glow dimming as the night passed to morning. The roads, normally bustling with life, lay still in a fleeting moment of peace.
Elric Ho slept soundly inside a small apartment, stripped down to nothing but his underwear. His breathing was steady, but beneath his closed eyelids, a dream unfolded, one that had played in his mind before.
A gentle voice, soft and familiar, whispered in the distance. Elric was a child again, staring at a blurred figure, its indistinct but warm features radiating an undeniable sense of kindness. Her voice filled him with a joy so pure that he wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever.
But the warmth did not last for Elric. The colors of his dream bled into red. The world around him twisted, the comforting presence vanishing as flames erupted in every direction. The scent of smoke filled the air, thick and suffocating. The warmth he once felt had become unbearable, licking at his skin like a relentless predator.
Then came the blood. It soaked the young boy's hands, hot and sticky, dripping onto the ground in thick rivulets. The metallic scent filled his lungs, suffocating the innocence of his childhood dream. He could hear the screams agonized, desperate, familiar. They clawed at his mind, echoing through the burning world around him.
A shadow rose from the depths of the inferno, taking shape in the heart of the devastation. It loomed over the young Elric, its form shifting, twisting, its presence suffocating.
And then, from the darkness, an eye emerged. Cold and all-seeing, one enormous, unblinking eye fixed its gaze upon him. The sheer intensity of its stare paralyzed him, locking his small body in place.
The grotesque sound that followed, deep, resonant, utterly inhuman, crawled under his skin. It was neither a growl nor a whisper but something far worse, something beyond mortal comprehension.
Terror seized him, drowning him in helplessness. He wanted to run, scream, and escape but was frozen, caught in the shadow's merciless gaze.
The moment stretched into eternity until something snapped.
Elric jolted awake, his breath uneven as the remnants of his nightmare faded into the morning stillness. The clock on his bedside table read 6:00 am sharp. Of course, it did. It always did.
His body felt drained as if the terror from his dream had bled into reality. A thin layer of sweat clung to his face and neck, the lingering discomfort of something unseen watching him. Despite trying to fully recall the dream, the details slipped through his mind like sand through his fingers. Only the unease remained, coiling deep in his chest.
Groaning, he flopped back onto the mattress, his arms and legs sprawled out in childish defiance.
"Why is it always 6 am?" he grumbled, his voice muffled against the pillow. "Just once, let me sleep in like a normal person..."
But his body had long abandoned such luxuries. Years of discipline, training, and instinct had turned his internal clock into something unbreakable. Even without an alarm, he always awoke at the same time, like a damn machine.
He lay there longer, letting the frustration burn out before finally dragging himself up.
A dull ache settled in his muscles as he stretched, his arms rising above his head before dropping back down with a sigh. His gaze drifted toward the standing mirror in the corner of the room.
And there they were on Elric's body, the scars. Faint, silvery lines and deep ridges crisscrossed his torso and arms, each a silent testimony to past battles.
Claw marks tore across his chest and shoulders, remnants of fights against beasts far stronger than any human. Some were old wounds inflicted by tigers, bears, and lions, predators that had nearly torn him apart. Others were clean, sharp slices left behind by blades meant to kill. The scars along his forearms were particularly numerous, evidence of a lifetime spent blocking attacks instead of dodging.
His fingers traced the old wounds absentmindedly as if grounding himself back to reality.
Everything was real, including his past, battles, and survival; none had been a dream as Elric remembered what had occurred in the past.
Flashback...
The aftermath of the Meiji Jingu Gaien Ice Skating Rink battle unfolded in a blur of flashing sirens and hurried voices. The police and ambulances arrived in waves, scattering across the ruined rink as paramedics rushed to treat the injured hockey players. Broken limbs, bruised bodies, and concussions were among the casualties of the chaos, but none suffered more than Daisuke Onishi, The Glutton.
He lay on the ice, his massive, grotesque frame barely recognizable under layers of deep bruising and shattered bone. Despite being rendered immobile, the police took no chances, thoroughly restraining him before loading him onto a stretcher. Even with most of his bones broken, they handled him like a dangerous wild animal, ensuring there was no possibility of escape.
Not far from the commotion, a familiar figure stormed forward with reckless determination: Onizuka.
The foolhardy gym coach, bruised and still bandaged from his last run-in, shoved his way toward Kenshiro Asuka, his presence as unwelcome as ever. His expression twisted with frustration, fists clenched as his patience wore thin.
"Where is Akato?" he barked, his eyes narrowing on the skating coach.
Asuka was caught off guard and barely had time to react. But before he could answer, a voice cut through the tension.
"Oh? You're looking for him already?"
Stepping onto the scene with an air of calm indifference, Elric Ho emerged from the crowd. His old glasses sat slightly crooked on his face, his disheveled hair even messier than usual, and his expression was one of quiet amusement. Behind him, Miruko, Ichiro, and Hiroki followed closely, their presence subtle yet firm.
Onizuka's eye twitched at the sight of him. Something about Elric's calm collected demeanor set his blood boiling. His gut screamed at him that this man was a nuisance, an obstacle between him and his goals.
His frustration spilled over as he jabbed a finger toward Elric, his voice rising impatiently. "I know Akato is your disowned twin. Don't play dumb. Where the hell is he?"
Elric adjusted his glasses, letting out a small sigh of exasperation. "Akato? That guy? Who knows." He shrugged, the nonchalant motion only angering Onizuka further. "He doesn't like being on the news, so he's off the radar for now."
Onizuka gritted his teeth, refusing to accept the answer. He opened his mouth to throw more accusations, ready to escalate the situation, when one of his hockey teammates rushed toward him, panting heavily.
"Coach... phone call. It's important."
Onizuka barely spared him a glance, still fuming, until his teammate shoved the phone in his direction. The screen displayed the caller ID.
The moment Onizuka saw the name, his demeanor shifted in an instant.
His hand snatched the phone away so quickly that it nearly slipped from his teammate's grasp. Pressing it to his ear, his expression darkened, his shoulders stiffening as he listened. The conversation was a series of short, clipped yes and no responses in a less aggressive voice.
Whatever the caller said, it stripped Onizuka of his usual bravado.
Then, as the call ended, his rage reignited.
Without warning, he whirled back toward Elric, his hand snapping forward like a striking snake as he grabbed him by the collar.
Elric barely reacted, only raising his hands in mock panic, a clear act exaggerated enough to further irritate Onizuka.
"Whoa, whoa, no need to get violent," Elric teased, eyes twinkling behind his glasses.
Onizuka's grip tightened, his breath ragged with contained fury. "I'll ruin you later, you smug bastard."
But before he could spew more threats, a pair of paramedics arrived on either side of him, "Coach Onizuka, sir, you need to come with us to the hospital."
Onizuka barely had time to protest before he was restrained, his struggles utterly useless as they dragged him away.
Watching the ridiculous display, Elric pressed a fist against his lips, fighting back a laugh. Seeing the once self-important coach flail uselessly against the medics was almost too much.
Once Onizuka was out of sight, Asuka turned to Elric, shaking his head. "You and your 'brother' sure have a way of getting rid of pests."
Asuka gave a deep bow to the hero. Elric only shrugged, offering a wry smile.
The brief exchange eased the tension, though it didn't last long. Elric's sharp ears caught snippets of conversation from the nearby skating coaches, Asuka and his fellow rivals. Their tones were serious, their expressions heavy.
The figure skating competition had been put on hold.
The damage to the rink was too severe, and repairs wouldn't be completed anytime soon. The skaters, especially the younger ones, were crushed by the news.
Elric, however, saw an opportunity.
He watched Reika Hoshizora, her disappointment clear despite her efforts to hide it. Beside her, Anaya Rao and Lian Zhao shared similar expressions. He could do more.
Before his thoughts could wander too far, a few presences approached.
"Got everything?" Elric asked without turning his head.
Standing beside him, Ino smirked as he pulled out a special video camera, giving it a light tap. Benikiba watched the recording with amusement.
"Every damn second," Ino replied. "The Glutton's little rampage, Onizuka's outbursts, everything."
Elric's grin widened as he gave Ino a thumbs-up.
They had dug up more dirt than expected. And this wasn't just evidence to put Glutton and maybe Onizuka away; this was something bigger. If used correctly, it could finally get Jujutsu HQ's attention on the severity of the loan shark problem and their ties to curse users.
Benikiba chuckled, shaking her head. "I still can't get over how fast you switched from 'Akato' back to 'Elric' in a split second." She tilted her head in mock amazement. "Even a dumbass like Onizuka didn't realize it was just an alias."
Elric smirked, brushing some dust off his scruffy teacher's attire, starkly contrasting the figure skating gear he had worn minutes ago.
His attention shifted back toward Reika, Anaya, and Lian.
The competition might have been postponed, but that didn't mean their progress had to stop. Elric had other plans.
Back to the Present...
Elric wasted no time. Pulling himself together, he grabbed his phone and swiftly dialed a number. He knew exactly who to call, someone in Japan with a particular set of skills, someone who could fix things without raising suspicions.
As the line rang, Elric exhaled, already mentally preparing for the next step in his plan.
Jujutsu Headquarters – Command Center...
Meanwhile, the command center air was heavy and tense at Jujutsu HQ. Ino and Benikiba stood at attention, their presence barely acknowledged as the room buzzed with heated discussion.
At the center of it all sat the higher-ups, their expressions as unreadable as ever. Nanami was among them, arms crossed, his usual stoic demeanor unwavering despite the weight of the conversation.
One of the elders from the Conservative Faction, his face creased with suspicion, leaned forward. His fingers drummed against the table, impatience growing by the second. "Show us the footage." His tone left no room for debate. "I want to see this so-called 'individual' you protect."
Without hesitation, Ino stepped forward, holding a compact, high-tech camera. "We have the recording, but…" His voice trailed off, knowing exactly what was about to follow.
The elder's brow furrowed. "But what?"
Ino exhaled sharply, bracing himself. "The individual in question noticed the camera from a significant distance. He demanded that his face be removed from the footage."
The air shifted.
Discontent spread through the room, some higher-ups murmuring in thinly veiled irritation. The Conservative Faction was visibly displeased, their whispers growing louder until one of them slammed a hand against the table.
"You expect us to take this seriously?" another elder snapped. "Whoever this person is, they are not one of us! And yet, you..."
A calm yet chilling voice interrupted, "It is not common for someone to detect surveillance from such a distance."
The murmurs died instantly as one of the older higher-ups leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with calculated intrigue. "For an individual to recognize they were being recorded, despite being unaware of the camera's exact location… That speaks volumes." He let the words settle before adding, "Especially if that individual is not a trained jujutsu sorcerer."
A pause followed. That was what unsettled higher-ups. They didn't like unknown variables.
From across the room, measured footsteps approached, slow yet deliberate. The weight of authority carried in each step, a presence that demanded attention without uttering a word.
The strict posture, the air of unwavering judgment; there was no mistaking him.
Kyoto Jujutsu High Principal, Yoshinobu Gakuganji.
His piercing gaze swept across the room before landing on Nanami. "You mean to tell me," Gakuganji began, his tone carrying the weight of his years, "that a curse user, a complete outsider, has made a binding vow with one of our specialized sorcerers?" His fingers tightened around his wooden cane, tapping it lightly against the floor. "And we are simply meant to accept this?"
Ino felt the room grow colder, but Nanami, unshaken as always, held his ground.
"Not just any binding vow," Nanami corrected, adjusting his tie with an air of finality. "One with conditions that require absolute truth. The individual agreed to full participation in the investigation under those terms."
A heavy silence followed.
The elders exchanged wary glances. Even the most stubborn conservatives in the room knew better than to challenge a binding vow. If they forced information out of Nanami or his team, they would jeopardize the status of every sorcerer involved, a risk not even the most zealous traditionalists would take.
The weight of Nanami's words settled over them, forcing even the most reluctant among them to acknowledge the truth.
Even so, Gakuganji was not one to let things go so easily.
The old man's expression darkened, but rather than continue the argument, he merely closed his eyes, humming in thought. Then, with a slow exhale, he finally spoke.
"Fine," the single word carried no defeat, only calculation.
He lifted his cane slightly, tapping it twice against the polished floor before opening his eyes again.
"I have someone who can confirm the identity of this individual." His voice was calm yet absolute.
His gaze locked onto Nanami's. "You and your team will be fine. After all, you will not be violating your agreement. This matter will be resolved another way."
The conversation was far from over.
The air in the room grew heavier with unspoken tension, the path ahead riddled with uncertainties.
Elric's apartment remained shrouded in darkness, the early morning light still absent from the sky. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional hum of distant traffic. Though it was nearly time for sunrise, the city had yet to fully wake.
Dressed in nothing but his underwear, Elric moved through the dim space with practiced ease. His internal clock had roused him exactly twenty minutes before sunrise, as it always did, leaving him no choice but to start his day.
He made his way to the small kitchen, where a sleek yet well-used coffee machine sat on the counter, a purchase from an online store he barely remembered ordering from. He reached for a sealed bag of coffee grounds, a special blend he had picked up from a local street market, the vendor swearing by its rich aroma and bold flavor. As he poured the grounds into the filter and filled the machine with water, the familiar hum of brewing coffee soon filled the air.
With that set, he turned his attention to his morning routine.
Dropping to the floor, he moved through his daily regimen with mechanical precision, fifty push-ups, fifty sit-ups, fifty squats, each motion fluid, honed by years of repetition. His body responded automatically, muscles warming with each controlled movement. When he finished his last squat, the coffee machine made a sharp chime, signaling completion.
Elric grabbed a freshly brewed mug, the heat radiating through the ceramic as he took a slow, deliberate sip. The rich, earthy bitterness hit his tongue, the flavor deep and satisfying.
"This is damn good coffee," Elric stated happily.
He leaned against the counter and drifted toward the glass sliding door leading to the balcony. The city beyond remained dark, but the faintest hints of deep blue and soft amber began to creep across the horizon.
He took another sip, watching as the first light of dawn threatened to break through the night.
In the dimly lit apartment, tiny mechanical eyes flickered from the shadows. Their movements were subtle, nearly imperceptible, save for the occasional flash of light reflecting off their miniature, polished surfaces. One of them, a mosquito-shaped construct, zipped through the air with the erratic speed of its organic counterpart. The others, small, flea-like puppets, skittered across the carpet in calculated jumps, their shiny, beady lenses fixed on their target.
Across the city, in a secluded underground chamber, Kokichi Muta sat submerged in his specialized tub, wires, and tubes connected to his frail, motionless body. Eleven years old, yet cursed from birth, he was bound to a life of pain and isolation. His only window to the outside world was through his "Puppet Manipulation Technique," a valuable talent that Jujutsu High had already placed him under their custody long before he came of age.
Tonight's task was simple: capture an image of Elric Ho's face and confirm his identity.
Kokichi's eyes remained locked on the video feed streaming from his surveillance puppets. His fingers twitched against the control panel as he zoomed in on the target, a man standing half-dressed, wearing nothing but his underwear while sipping from a steaming mug of coffee.
Kokichi frowned. "What the hell is wrong with this guy?"
Even through the low-resolution feed, he could see the defined muscle lines along Elric's torso and how his body moved with perfect control and ease. It was an unfair contrast to Kokichi's own existence, his body frail and useless, forever bound to this damn tank.
But what caught his attention even more were the scars.
Deep claw marks. Jagged bite wounds. Sharp, precise cuts from bladed weapons.
Kokichi recognized the patterns immediately. These weren't just from street fights or minor scuffles. They were the kind of wounds that came from battling apex predators.
"Who the hell fights tigers, bears, and blades… and lives to tell the tale?"
The puppets inched closer, carefully adjusting their angles, ready to capture a clear image. Kokichi maneuvered them expertly, ensuring that Elric's face would be fully visible, and then it happened.
In a split second, Elric's head snapped enough for one eye toward the exact location of the nearest surveillance drone.
The movement was inhumanly fast.
His eyes, razor-sharp, predatory, terrifyingly precise, locked onto the mosquito drone's position as if he had sensed it the moment it entered his range.
A cold shiver ran down Kokichi's spine. "Impossible."
Before he could even react, the feed cut out.
One by one, the screens buzzed with static, each tiny surveillance puppet being taken offline in rapid succession. Kokichi's fingers flew over the controls, desperately trying to maneuver the remaining drones, but it was useless.
Something, or rather, someone, was systematically eliminating them.
In mere seconds, only one drone remained.
The last feed was still online but had been knocked to the side, its camera tilted at an awkward angle. The mosquito-shaped wooden cursed doll couldn't see Elric's face anymore.
But Kokichi could still hear him.
The low, unamused voice came through the remaining audio feed, sending a chill down his spine.
"Whoever's watching…" The voice was calm and eerily collected but held a distinct, unshakable authority. "…If you reveal my identity to anyone, I'll make sure you're the first one I hunt down."
And with that, the final video feed cut to black.
Kokichi sat frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs.
This wasn't just a strong curse user. This wasn't just a problem for Jujutsu HQ. This man was a monster who got the job done.
With a reluctant sigh, Kokichi messaged out his report with stiff, reluctant fingers. The words felt bitter even as he sent them.
Task failed. No image was captured.
On the other side of the city, Elric took another casual sip of his coffee before grabbing an empty glass jar from the kitchen counter.
With a small, satisfied smirk, he dropped the crushed remains of his "uninvited guests" into the jar.
"Bug hunt complete."
Jujutsu Headquarters - Command Center
Back at Jujutsu HQ, the tension in the command center was palpable.
Seated at the head of the room, Yoshinobu Gakuganji's hands clenched tightly around his wooden cane, the veins on his forehead bulging with suppressed rage. His face twisted in a scowl as he processed the latest failure, the flickering lamplight casting sharp shadows across his aged but formidable features.
A small wooden cursed doll twitched at the center of the room, its hollow eyes glowing faintly as it spoke. The mechanical voice belonged to Kokichi Muta, who remained miles away, submerged in his secluded chamber. The doll, acting as his proxy, relayed his report with unnerving precision.
"I failed to capture the subject's identity," Muta stated flatly. "Despite deploying fifty surveillance puppets, each no larger than a flea or mosquito, the target detected and eliminated them all within seconds."
The room fell into stunned silence.
The higher-ups exchanged wary glances, murmurs rippling through the ranks. The ability to detect even the smallest cursed dolls at such an absurd speed was beyond their expectations.
Muta's puppet continued, its head tilting slightly as if to mimic the thought process of its true master. "Had I persisted, the subject made it clear that I would be the first one he hunted down."
That revelation hung in the air like a guillotine.
Gakuganji's teeth ground together audibly. His grip on his staff tightened, his knuckles white with restrained fury. The room was on edge, waiting for the inevitable eruption.
Ino spoke next, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence.
"He's not bluffing," Ino muttered, his tone unusually serious. "That man has an unnatural ability to track anything that watches him. Whether it's cursed surveillance or someone's gaze from a distance, he just… knows."
The implications sent another wave of unease through the higher-ups.
The idea of an individual who could instinctively sense the presence of surveillance and react with near-instantaneous precision was a threat unlike any other.
Gakuganji's face contorted with frustration, but before he could slam his staff in anger, Utahime Iori intervened.
"Enough," Utahime's voice was calm but firm, her presence an unusual contrast to the tension surrounding them. "Stressing yourself won't change the results."
Her words, though simple, were enough to keep Gakuganji from completely losing his temper. He exhaled sharply, his fury simmering just beneath the surface.
As the dust settled, Nanami adjusted his tie and said, "There is one more thing."
The room turned its attention toward him.
Nanami's expression remained cold and unreadable, but there was something deliberate in his words. "After the subject caught Ino's camera, he allowed him to record for something else."
The murmurs resumed instantly, this time filled with confusion and intrigue.
One of the Conservative Faction elders frowned. "Why would he allow himself to be recorded if he was so concerned about surveillance?"
Nanami met the elder's gaze evenly. "Because he was the one who requested it."
The silence was deafening.
Ino, standing beside the cursed doll, nodded and stepped forward, raising his special video camera.
"He didn't want his identity exposed," Ino clarified. "But he had no problem exposing something else."
A few of the elders leaned forward, intrigued despite themselves.
Gakuganji, despite his anger, remained still.
Nanami nodded toward Ino, "Show them."
Ino pressed play.
The command center's large screen flickered to life, and the events of the Meiji Jingu Gaien Ice Rink incident began to unfold.
The entire room fell into captivated silence as the reality of the situation played out before their eyes.
Even Gakuganji himself, despite his stubbornness, was momentarily stunned by what he saw.
The show had begun.