"The truth doesn't set you free. It brands you so the world will never forgets what you are ,who you are ,where you are."
—Ryuunosuke Akashi (Jujutsu High Field Journal, Entry 03)
Tokyo Jujutsu High – Twilight Return
The sky looked straight-up ugly, smeared with that sickly amber like a fresh bruise. Over the training field, reality just… split. Big old rift, black static crawling along the edges. Then—boom—and with a thud....Akashi Ryuunosuke dropped through it, hit the ground hard, one knee down like some twisted knight. Spiritual pressure just poured off him; ash stuck to his sleeves, clinging like ugly memories.
Mei Mei stood there, arms crossed, expression flat as always. The rift zipped itself shut behind Akashi—no ceremony, just gone.
"He's back," she said, deadpan as ever.
Gojo strolled in next, hands buried in his pockets, looking way too casual for the moment. His six eyes flickered, sizing up Akashi like he was a weird art project.
"You smell ancient, dude," Gojo said, sniffing the air. "Not in a cool, 'hidden temple' way, either. More like… banned library books and poor life choices."
Akashi didn't even blink. Just stared at his own hands.
New spiral glyphs crawled down his arms, glowing, twisting. Alive. Not the old Dragon Tongue tattoos—these things weren't techniques. They were… what, declarations? Warnings? Whatever. They weren't coming off.
Briefing Chamber – Nightfall
Yaga, Utahime, and Nanami crammed around a grainy security feed. They watched the Spiral Shrine collapse in endless replay.
Akashi stood in front of them, black coat hanging off his shoulders, glyphs sort of glowing under the fabric.
"I didn't blow up the Shrine," he said. "It fell apart because I asked the wrong question."
Yaga's voice dropped, all soft and dangerous. "And what did it answer?"
Long pause. Akashi's jaw worked.
"That.... That's I'm not a sorcerer," he finally said. "I'm… I'm just a rewrite of a curse that should've stayed dead a long ago"
Dorm Rooftop – Later That Night
Akashi sat alone, ribs aching, phone screen cracked like a spiderwebbed to hell. Classic.
Footsteps behind him.
"Brooding under the moon again?" Nobara's voice, sharp as ever.
He didn't bother looking up. "Only time it's quiet enough to think."
She leaned on the railing, arms folded, attitude dialed to eleven.
"Everyone's freaking out, you know. You ghosted us, came back looking like you picked a fight with a demon tattoo artist."
Finally, he glanced at her. "I went looking for revenge," he muttered. "Found something worse. Something old."
She stared at him a second. "So… you didn't find your mom's killer?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
She nodded, slow grin spreading across her face. "Good. Means you're still in the game."
Silence hung between them, big and heavy. Akashi just sat there, but the glyph on his shoulder pulsed—almost like it got the joke.
At The Depths of Somewhere Else
Somewhere that wasn't anywhere, with stars dying overhead. The Spiral Author stood in front of a black monolith, all heart-shaped and wrong.
Right next to him, a monk in chains twisted in the dark.
"He remembers," the Author whispered, voice like splinters.
The monolith shivered. A dozen eyes snapped open across its surface, with hungry like starving for a long long year's...
"Let him remember," something answered from inside, voice thick as tar. "Shibuya's turn is coming."