----------------------------------------------------
Beginning of Chapter
----------------------------------------------------
Kamizono sat behind her desk, posture perfect, hands folded neatly, expression unreadable.
The office felt too still, the kind of quiet that presses against the skin, making each second heavy. It was a silence that didn't merely exist; it waited. It hung in the air, thick and taut, like a drawn wire ready to snap.
Gojo sat across from her, one leg casually crossed over the other, sunglasses pushed up the bridge of his nose. The irritation in his posture was subtle at first but growing by the minute.
Higuruma sat beside him, calm as ever, though his tired eyes carried a weight deeper than fatigue, instead an understanding of how dark things could get when the wrong choices were made.
They had been talking for no less than twenty minutes, yet it was clear who had reached the end of their patience.
Gojo's voice finally cut through the quiet. "I'm not going to be some lap dog for you," he said, tone clipped, sharp. "At the festival, you made this seem appealing. But now? Seeing it in person? It's not what I signed up for."
Higuruma rubbed the bridge of his nose. "President Kamizono… I know I agreed to help, but he's a minor. What you're asking… it's not so legal. Convincing him to work for the HPSC under these circumstances–"
Kamizono tilted her head slightly, acknowledging the point, her composure unshaken.
She leaned forward, fixing Gojo with an almost imperceptible intensity. "Satoru," she began, voice soft but commanding, "I am offering you what students your age could only dream of."
Her words were deliberate, measured. "Money. Housing. The freedom to use your quirk without the bureaucracy of half of Japan breathing down your neck. Media exposure, influence.
Youd essentially have a head start in the hero world that no internship could ever provide. Work for the Commission. Directly under me. Everything others spend years chasing, you could have it immediately."
Gojo scoffed, a laugh of disbelief and defiance. "I'm not your puppet. I value my freedom. To explore my limits. I do want to be a hero, but not at the cost of my freedom. I'll finish U.A. the normal way and become a hero from there. That's enough."
Kamizono exhaled, a quiet sigh, almost mournful. "Such a shame," she murmured. "I hoped it wouldn't come to this."
Her hand pressed a button on the wired intercom. "…Do it," she commanded.
Higuruma's hand rose to cover his face. "Oh God," he muttered, voice low. "I really shouldn't have helped you."
Gojo's frown deepened hearing Higuruma's reaction. "What? what was that supposed to do?"
Kamizono's reply was calm, almost conversational. "Do you know how expensive cancer treatment really is?"
Gojo blinked, confusion flickering across his features. "What does cancer have to do with this? I mean… pretty sure it drains wallets, sure, but–"
Kamizono leaned back slightly, her gaze never leaving his. "In simple terms? It costs an arm and a leg. The best doctors, the best facilities, the best treatments. Your uncle Koun cannot afford it."
Gojo froze for a second before his lips parted and a laugh escaping him, loud, disbelieving and harsh. "You're joking, right? My uncle? Cancer? The guy's built like a damn tank. His quirk, regeneration that lets hik regrow limbs grow back. He's the healthiest man I know. Really, you're funny."
But Kamizono did not smile. Slowly, deliberately, she opened a drawer and produced a thick folder. It slid across the desk, flipping open automatically, revealing medical scans, charts, and a diagnosis stamped boldly across the top: Koun. Cancer Diagnosis.
The room, already heavy, became suffocating. Gojo's laughter died instantly. Color drained from his face as his hands trembled slightly while he read the papers. "No…" he whispered, disbelief shaking his voice. "No. This... This can't be."
He shoved the folder back toward Kamizono, struggling to steady his breathing, his throat tight. She observed quietly, almost indulgently.
"It doesn't matter," Gojo said finally, after a pause. He leaned back in his chair, attempting control. "He works at the casino, the the biggest in the city. He gets paid enough–"
Kamizono interrupted, her voice sharp, laced with subtle mockery. "The same casino I've just ordered to shut down. For a new clinic of course. A preschool. Maybe even an old age home. To better the community and not promote bad behaviour."
The weight of her words struck him like a blow. He froze. The plan, the timing, the call… she had orchestrated everything.
Higuruma glanced away, jaw tight, powerless. Contract bound him. He could not intervene. All he could do was exhale through the tension coiling in his chest.
Gojo's hands clenched into fists. Sparks flickered red along the seams of the desk as he slammed it, cracking the polished surface. His sunglasses fell to the floor, shattering. His blue eyes flared bright, furious.
"This," he ground out, teeth clenched, "is the dirtiest, most desperate play I've ever seen. Even those casinos play cleaner than this. And you blackmail me?"
Kamizono rose smoothly, voice calm but sharp, every word weighted with authority. "I will do what must be done. Japan needs stability. It needs peace.
All Might's era is ending, but you… your abilities, upbringing, situation, and even your morals... They align with the future I see for this country. A future of the first Special Grade Japanese Hero."
Higuruma noticed in the corner of his eye the papers on the floor were suspended mid air, slowly falling, a subtle but undeniable display of Gojo power flicking. He knew any interference would fail.
Gojo's fury collided with frustration. He turned to the lawyer with anger. "Are you serious, Higuruma? You're supposed to be justice incarnate, yet you just watch this happen?!"
"I am bound by contract," Higuruma replied flatly. "Higher ups believed her when she said she has found someone who will bring glory to Japan. I am forced to let it happen. No hard feelings, Satoru."
Gojo's mind raced options, attacks, strategies... but all were blocked by uncertainty. Kamizono and Higuruma's abilities, the legal bindings, and the orchestrated timing all worked against him.
The tension coiled tighter, and then his phone rang. Kamizono's gaze flicked to it, unblinking. "Answer it."
Gojo glared, fingers brushing the device in his pocket.
"Go on, Satoru. Pick it up," Kamizono repeated, the smallest trace of mockery in her tone.
He ignored it, muting the call and sliding it back into his pocket. "I don't need to," he said, his voice tight. "I'm not playing your game."
Kamizono stepped closer, unflinching, matching the fire in his gaze. "You've already stood your ground," she said softly, voice dropping lower. "So what now? Will you watch your uncle die without treatment? Let the bills bury him? Let him lose everything?"
A pause.
"Or will you sacrifice your freedom… for your country… your future… and the only family who has ever loved you?"
And in that very moment, sirens blared throughout the building. Higuruma looked confused as well as Kamizono before she went back, staring Gojo in his eyes.
Gojo kept staring at Kamizono before he spoke. "Shouldn't you be worried, Madame Kamizono." His tone full of irritation.
She responded calmly, "My boy. Whatever happened can wait. Just sigh the dotted lines... and you can save your uncle and your future." She slide a paper towards him with a pen, at the end of the page was the empty signature space.
Gojo looked at the pen, considering everything. His freedom essentially taken away as he is forced to work under her while attending U.A.
In the end he looked at Kamizono with a glare that could kill as she gave a calm smile in return.
"You wanted to be the strongest hero Satoru? Even the strongest answer to someone weaker than them." Kamizono said, footsteps being heard, doors being knocked on. The sirens kept blaring and red lights flashed.
Gojo look at her as he picked up the pen brining it to his eyes as if he was inspecting it.
"No. You better pray to Devil to make a seat warm for you... Because very soon, no country, no nation, no hero in this reality, will stop me from sending you to Hell myself."
----------
The day shift at the HPSC detention facility was unnervingly quiet. Too quiet.
The wing was intended for dangerous criminals police could not handle. It was small, only able to hold twenty inmates comfortably. And currently, the only one registered was Korihoo.
He had initially planned to surrender at the usual station, claiming knowledge of Sukuna's whereabouts. This alone triggered a change in protocol where instead he would be detained and interrogated under the HPSC's supervision.
Down here, the silence pressed against the walls, pooling in corners, unnatural for a place designed to contain danger. Only the hum of the ventilation hinted at life.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Uraume stepped out, calm as though she belonged in the stillness. Her uniform was crisp, the scent of starch sharp and clean. White hair framed her face, a red ring circling her head. In her hands, she carried a thick folder of paperwork.
The three guards at the front desk straightened. Not out of discipline, but reflex. Bored and overworked, they barely acknowledged her presence.
"Evening," Uraume said softly, bowing. Polite, controlled, a motion perfectly in place. "Evening," one guard muttered. "State your business."
"Prisoner transfer. Korihoo," she said, handing over the folder. "Orders arrived an hour ago. I need two guards to assist." The men examined the papers she handed to them.
Perfect seals. Correct stamps. Valid signatures. Everything precise.
"Looks clean," one said. "We'll take you to him." Uraume nodded. "Lead the way."
The hallway was narrow, cold, and smelled of disinfectant. The faint buzz of fluorescent lights was the only sound.
Korihoo's cell was at the end. He slumped in a chair, wrists cuffed behind him, legs chained to the floor, black bag over his head. Suppressor cuffs dug into his skin.
"Still asleep," one guard said. "We kept him drugged." Uraume's smile was small, unreadable. "Good. Dangerous and annoying, from what I hear."
The guards lifted him with ease. Chains clinked, lifeless.
At the surface lot, the armoured truck waited.
Then the air shifted. In front of them, space warped into a swirling black-and-violet distortion. A warp gate.
The guards froze. The older reached for his walkie.
"Code red–"
A hand appeared from the gate and snaped in the gaurds direction. The first guard flew back, a slash across his chest, blood spraying. The second guard didn't even turn before the same happened.
Their bodies lay in a spreading pool of red.
From the gate emerged Kurogiri. Mist curled from his head like smoke from a cold fire. "Uraume," he said, bowing slightly. "Your timing is precise. Perhaps Sukuna was correct in entrusting you."
"As always, why would master Sukuna's trust be for nothing." she replied softly. He gathered Korihoo's unconscious body, creating another warp gate around them. Tendrils of mist enveloped all three.
A low hum. Then silence. The empty lot, the cooling bodies, and the idle armoured truck remained as mere seconds later, an alarm rang throughout the entire building.
----------------------------------------------------
End of Chapter
----------------------------------------------------
Gotta lock in now. Hope you enjoyed.
I'm ready to write more peak