Location: Shibuya — Dilapidated Apartment Block | 11:43 A.M. | Light Drizzle
The sky hung low and gray, pressing against the world like an anxious thought. A thin drizzle stitched silver strands in the air, beading on rusted rails, broken glass, and blood-washed stone. The remnants of battle still lingered faintly in the damp air — curses, fear, and death, all woven into the city's silence.
Agent 47 stood motionless in his dim apartment, lit only by the gray light filtering through the window blinds. The place was stripped bare now — no emotion, no personal traces. Just a suitcase by the door. His black suit was neatly pressed, the red tie hanging from his neck like a severed promise. The Silverballers were cleaned, loaded, and holstered at his hips. His long coat draped over one shoulder like a reaper's cloak.
He glanced around once.
Mission complete.
He slipped his gloves on.
A knock.
The door creaked open before he could reach it. Gojo Satoru stood on the other side, leaning casually against the frame, but his usual grin was gone.
"You're really leaving?" Gojo asked, sunglasses hanging low on his nose.
Behind him stood Itadori, Megumi, and Nobara — silent.
47 turned fully, face unreadable. "Yes."
Gojo rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn. I was hoping I could drag you out for at least a few drinks. Maybe a beach. You ever been to Okinawa? No work. Just R&R."
The assassin didn't blink. "We will not meet again."
His voice cut the air like wire. Cold. Certain.
Itadori took a hesitant step forward, mouth parting. "Wait— Are you sure you don't wanna stay a bit? I mean… after all this, you kinda earned—"
"Yuji," Megumi said sharply. "He said what he said."
Nobara stared at 47's eyes — or tried to. But they were like two locked vaults.
No hatred. No warmth. No soul.
Just purpose.
47 moved past them. His footsteps echoed against the stairwell like clockwork ending. No pause, no hesitation.
Gojo didn't stop him. He just watched.
"Damn," he murmured. "Guess I was right about him all along."
Outside — Shibuya Crosswalk | 12:02 P.M.
The light changed. 47 stepped across as the drizzle tapered off. The city moved on around him — students laughing beneath umbrellas, business suits brushing past, neon lights flickering above ramen shops.
Then—
📨 SYSTEM MESSAGE RECEIVED
NEW UNIVERSE UNLOCKED: ???
Target Location: CLASSIFIED
Synchronization Initiated…
Estimated Transition: 00:00:27
📬 MAIL ATTACHMENT: [ADMINISTRATOR]
Subject: "Exceeding Parameters"
"You've walked through storms meant to break gods.You killed what others feared to name.
Most pawns beg to become kings.
You never begged.
Let's see what comes next."
— A