Shinjuku trembled not from footsteps, but from silence, once more.
The three figures stood in perfect opposition, each carrying enough cursed energy to unmake cities, yet not a single strike followed the devastating Hollow Purple.
The air itself felt brittle, stretched thin by the tension that lingered between them. Looks
Mahito rose fully from the crater, dust rolling off his exoskeleton like water. His stitched smile was hidden beneath the armored mask, yet the laughter that bubbled out of him carried amusement enough.
Four arms flexed from his back, stretching lazily as if the cursed spirit had just awoken from a nap.
Sukuna's crimson gaze bore into him, the tattoos of his Heian form writhing faintly with the flow of his energy. He stood with all four arms folded across his chest, unmoving, a storm locked in flesh.
Between them, Gojo adjusted his collar with a calmness that bordered on mocking. His glowing blue eyes shimmered faintly, his white hair stirred by currents of cursed energy. He cracked his neck once, then stretched his shoulders as if limbering up for training rather than standing opposite the two most dangerous beings in existence.
The stillness broke not with an attack, but with a voice.
"Honestly," Gojo sighed, as if inconvenienced by the situation, "I'd almost say Mahito feels even stronger than you, Sukuna. Taking my Hollow Purple head on like that? You must be slipping."
The words were bait, but they slipped off Gojo's tongue so naturally it felt like casual truth.
Sukuna's lips curled downward into a scowl. His four arms unfolded slowly, cursed energy crackling at his fingertips. "Only a weakling dodges a shoddy preemptive strike. A King does not move for tricks."
Mahito's laughter rang out louder, echoing down the empty streets. "Oh, that's rich. So you let yourself get torn apart and then patch yourself up with reverse cursed energy, and you call that pride?"
He leaned forward, his mask glinting. "Only an idiot allows himself to take damage from a preemptive strike. Even an insect knows how to flinch..."
Sukuna's crimson eyes narrowed, and the ground cracked beneath his feet. Gojo only chuckled, watching their egos collide like tectonic plates.
From the rooftops miles away, the entire Jujutsu world was watching.
Inside a fortified building lined with protective barriers, screens flickered with live footage projected from Mei Mei's crows. Yuta leaned forward with his elbows pressed to the table, his expression sharp and unblinking. Beside him sat Yuki, her arms crossed, her mouth set in a tight line.
Maki leaned against the wall, her arms folded, her eyes unblinking as she absorbed every detail. Her return to their side had been inevitable once word of this battle reached her ears.
Mei Mei sat at the far end, silver hair gleaming under the dim light. Ui Ui perched beside her, silent as ever. Kusakabe muttered under his breath, clearly stressed by the sheer insanity of the fight unfolding.
Inumaki remained quiet, watching intently, and Panda's ears twitched as if picking up a battle rhythm no one else could hear.
Mai was present as well, sitting quietly, her gaze hard. Her new technique had awakened fully, strong enough to forge special grade cursed tools from nothing but her will.
She was scared from her ordeal, but having Maki by her side helped a lot. She had become a moving armoury for her sister, and she herself was now stronger by leaps and bounds.
Alas, no matter how many weapons she created, none of them could heal Megumi, who still lay comatose.
Not that Megumi was capable enough to help in such situation.
They watched, united, and yet powerless to intervene.
And far away, hidden beneath a veil of cursed energy, Kenjaku and Uraume stood together. Their eyes fixed upon the plaza.
Uraume's lips were tight, their hands folded beneath long sleeves. Though silent, their gaze was sharp, following every twitch of Sukuna's body.
Kenjaku, meanwhile, tilted his head as if listening to music only he could hear. He was patient, calculating, already weighing the timing of his next move.
Neither ancient sorcerer intended to interfere until the last possible moment, but both were ready to strike the instant an opportunity presented itself.
The stage had not been set for a duel. It had been set for a reckoning.
Back in the plaza, Sukuna and Mahito's exchange of insults gave way to silence once more.
Gojo broke it with a smile.
"Very well then," he said, his voice light but edged, "I say we take out Mahito first."
The words landed like a blade.
For the sorcerers watching from the screens, there was no shock. They had debated this endlessly.
Mahito could not be allowed to survive past today. He was too big of a threat, and fully unwilling to barter, if saving Yuji was the goal, Mahito had to go first.
The conclusion had been inevitable.
But for Mahito himself, for Sukuna, even for Kenjaku and Uraume, the declaration rang like thunder.
Mahito tilted his head back and laughed, the sound deep and rolling. The plates of his exoskeleton rippled as his body vibrated with mirth.
"Both of you, together? You think it will matter?" His purple eyes glowed brighter, piercing even through the veil of his mask. "I don't mind. I don't mind at all. Come together. You'll both die today regardless."
Sukuna's grin was slow, sharp, predatory. "Then I'll hold off killing Gojo… for now. Just don't get in my way."
His tone dripped contempt, but his eyes glittered with anticipation. To Sukuna, this was no alliance.
It was simply circumstance, another battlefield shaped by the whims of fate. Gojo's presence was not his doing. It was Mahito's.
And if Mahito had created such a battlefield, then Sukuna would simply see it through.
Whether Gojo survived or not was his problem alone.
Gojo chuckled, stretching his shoulders again. "Funny. That's the exact same thing I was going to say to you."
Mahito spread all six arms wide, his body brimming with cursed energy. His form cast a shadow that stretched across the broken city, monstrous and unyielding.
Above them, the clouds churned. The very sky seemed to recoil from the pressure that poured into the battlefield.
The world held its breath.
Three stood, but only one would walk away.
And as Mahito's laughter echoed across Shinjuku, the clash to decide the strongest would certainly leave its mark in history.