Cold numbers were etched into the Jujutsu Headquarters' top-secret files:
Shibuya Incident: Deaths—5,376 (excluding modified humans). Modified human-related deaths—7,129.
Severely injured or disabled—6,955. Lightly injured—4,251.
Total casualties: 23,411.
These numbers weighed heavily on the page, documenting the raw devastation left by the clash between the King of Curses and a certain entity.
Yet, these figures were already a significant improvement over the original story.
In the source material, all of Tokyo plunged into darkness. Nearly all 23 wards were destroyed. Close to five million people needed evacuation, not to mention the countless government officials who went missing. The government even considered relocating the Prime Minister's residence to Osaka.
So, Gaio's presence had, to some extent, reduced the casualties and damage.
However, as night faded and dawn forcibly descended on the ravaged land of Shibuya, the voices streaming from television screens told a vastly different story.
A polished female news anchor, her tone steady with just the right touch of somberness, reported:
"During last night's Halloween festivities, multiple severe gas pipeline explosions occurred in Shibuya, resulting in ten deaths and fifty injuries of varying degrees. The government will conduct a thorough review and strengthen public safety measures…"
The footage quickly cut to carefully curated scenes of peripheral streets, showing a few symbolic collapsed building remnants cordoned off by safety barriers, with neatly uniformed rescue workers performing "cleanup."
Ten deaths? Fifty injuries?
The scene outside the window mocked the report—over half of Shibuya's core district was gone! As far as the eye could see stretched a kilometers-long, eerily smooth, gray-white plain, as if an invisible giant plow had scraped the earth clean!
That was the absolute cutting zone left by Sukuna's domain! Beyond this "plain" lay a forest of wreckage destroyed by the shockwave, with twisted rebar jutting into the ashen sky like a beast's ribs, and shattered glass and concrete dust blanketing everything.
Absurd?
Yet no one questioned it.
The frenzied Halloween crowds, the chaotic screams and stampedes, the families and friends of the countless missing—all their memories had been forcibly "cleansed" and altered by the jujutsu higher-ups.
What remained were fragmented impressions of explosions, firelight, and chaotic shoving, alongside the "reasonable" numbers from the official news.
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"Reiko… Reiko was… lost in the explosion…" A middle-aged man stood dazed outside the barricade, staring at the suffocatingly vast "plain" in the distance, his eyes hollow as he repeated the implanted memory.
His daughter had excitedly gone out last night for Shibuya's "massive Halloween parade" and never returned.
Deep down, something felt off—a gnawing grief and dissonance tore at him. But that flicker of doubt was ruthlessly suppressed by the omnipresent cognitive correction.
"Gas pipeline explosion?" Maki Zen'in, in her Jujutsu High uniform, adjusted her glasses. Standing atop a relatively intact skyscraper, she gazed down at the hellish scene below, her lips curling into a chilling smirk.
She could clearly see sorcerers moving like ghosts through the ruins, cleaning up glaringly obvious severed limbs and curse traces.
In the distance, massive construction equipment, directed by official forces, had begun symbolic work at the edge of the "plain." "What a… spectacular firework show," she muttered.
Kento Nanami silently walked through an alley reeking of disinfectant and blood. The ground crunched underfoot with bits of glass and synthetic fiber.
A few bloodstained Halloween decorations dangled from twisted window frames, swaying in the breeze. He adjusted his crooked tie, his eyes behind his glasses weary yet sharp.
If the mastermind behind the Shibuya Incident wasn't stopped, Tokyo would see more events like this.
"Ugh, when can I take a vacation to Malaysia?" Nanami muttered, tiredly pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Reconstruction! Tokyo Governor announces formation of Shibuya Special Reconstruction Task Force!"
"Experts analyze rare geological activity and aging pipelines as cause of tragedy!"
"Citizens' prayer event to be held tomorrow!"
News headlines scrolled one after another, like layers of thick paint trying to cover up the 23,411 silent screams.
Yet none of this disturbed Gaio and Marin's sweet morning.
Marin stretched, shielding her eyes from the sunlight filtering through the curtains. "Mmm~ Morning already~"
Her voice was lazy as she reached out to cuddle her boyfriend for a bit more sleep, but her hand found only empty sheets.
Blinking awake, she realized Gaio wasn't in bed. Her senses sharpened, and she caught a faint, delicious aroma of food.
"Gaio-kun?" Marin called softly, her voice still soft and groggy from sleep.
She threw off the covers, stepping barefoot onto the soft carpet, following the scent to the kitchen.
There, Gaio, wearing an apron, was focused at the stove. Gyoza sizzled in a pan, their white wrappers turning golden brown, gleaming temptingly.
"You're up." Gaio noticed her, flashing a smile. "Go wash up—breakfast's almost ready."
Marin walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his back. "Why'd you get up so early? You were so tired last night…"
Gaio turned slightly, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Wanted to make you breakfast. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't have the heart to wake you."
After freshening up, Marin returned to the dining room. The table was set with an array of delicate dishes—gyoza, steamed buns, a vegetable and fruit salad, and steaming milk.
They sat across from each other, savoring the quiet moment. Marin bit into a bun, beaming. "This is so good! Your cooking's gotten even better, Gaio!"
Gaio smiled at her. "Glad you like it. Eat up."
Outside, the streets bustled as usual, oblivious to the truth of what happened in Shibuya last night.
Marin happily bit into a gyoza, its golden, crispy skin crunching between her teeth, the juicy meat and sweet cabbage bursting in her mouth.
Morning light streamed through the large windows, warming the freshly laid linen tablecloth.
"…Shibuya gas explosion update: Death toll rises to fifteen…"
The news anchor's calm, almost detached voice cut in.
Marin's chewing froze.
Her fingers tightened around her chopsticks, knuckles whitening.
She looked up, her gaze cutting through the steam rising from the food, landing on Gaio across the table.
"Gaio-kun," her voice dropped, a mix of post-meal laziness and a faint tension, "last night… even after you went, so many people still died?"
When Gaio had returned last night, the faint smell of rust and coldness on him had been quickly masked by the steam of the bathroom and his warm embrace.
He hadn't even touched the late-night snack she'd prepared, pulling her into the warm water and an even more intense whirlpool, melting all her questions into gasps.
Gaio's hand, holding his milk glass, paused for half a second, the light on the rim glinting briefly between his fingers.
His eyes lowered, focusing on the swaying white liquid in the glass, his tone as calm as if he were describing yesterday's weather:
"By the time I got there, things were already chaotic."
He didn't mention the twisted curses, the rampaging King of Curses, the terrifying domain that obliterated half a district, or the space-slicing cuts that could sever anything. He just used the vague word "chaotic."
The glow on Marin's face, lit by good food and sunlight, faded as if wiped away by an invisible hand.
Her boyfriend was a "hero" with extraordinary power, yet he still couldn't stop the cold, relentless climb of the death toll.
A powerless, subtle sense of loss gnawed at her heart. She looked at Gaio's flawless profile, his calm demeanor as if the news of fifteen deaths was just a distant report from some foreign land.
Gaio set down his milk glass.
He didn't care about the fifteen deaths on the news—whether ten or five thousand, it was all background noise to him. But Marin's crestfallen face and white knuckles made his brow furrow slightly.
He stood, walked around the table, and, as Marin's gaze dropped, slid his arms under her knees and back, effortlessly lifting her from the chair.
"Ah!" The sudden weightlessness made Marin gasp, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.
Gaio sat back in his chair, settling her securely on his lap like a fragile treasure.
His strong arms encircled her, his chin gently brushing the top of her head, his warm breath grazing her ear.
"Marin," his low voice carried a steady, soothing strength that drowned out the anchor's formulaic report, "at least the others were saved."
That simple sentence was like a warm current flooding her heart.
Marin's small sense of loss and unease dissolved in his solid embrace and the unwavering strength in his words.
Her bubbly nature took over, her eyes sparkling like they held stars.
"Of course!" She waved her little fist, a big grin erasing her earlier gloom. "Gaio-kun's the best!"
She wiggled excitedly, finding a comfier spot on his lap, then looked up at him, eyes twinkling. "Oh, right! Do you have to keep your superhero identity a secret? Like Batman or Spider-Man? That's so cool!"
Gaio chuckled at her sudden leap in logic, his chest rumbling softly.
He raised a hand, his calloused fingers fondly ruffling her fluffy hair, making her head bob.
"Eat up," he said, handing her the half-full glass of warm milk, cutting off her superhero secrecy fantasies. "The milk's getting cold. Don't forget, we've got stage rehearsal today."
"Oh, right!" Marin snapped back to reality, grabbing the glass and taking a big gulp, leaving a faint white mustache on her lip.
She slid off his lap, returning to her seat.
Outside, the sunlight was perfect, the news still droning on about the "tragedy" of fifteen deaths.
In the dining room, they exchanged a smile, the earlier shadow as if it had never existed.
The aroma of gyoza, the warmth of the milk, and Gaio's gaze, focused only on her, formed a small but unbreakable world.
The sweet morning flowed on.
Meanwhile, in a hidden place:
A paper door stood as a silent silhouette in the dimness, the only light piercing the murky air below, illuminating a small patch of emptiness.
Several aged voices clashed in the darkness.
"Any solid leads on that man who showed up in Shibuya?" one voice rasped like dry leaves.
"The Zen'in girl let slip something… He's a celebrity," another voice said slowly.
"Name?"
"Nero."
"Background?"
"Can't trace it. No cursed energy fluctuations. Normally… just an ordinary guy."
"Ordinary?" A third voice shot up, sharp and shrill. "Megumi Fushiguro saw it with his own eyes! Mahoraga was turned to mincemeat by that guy! Kusakabe reported Sukuna couldn't even get the upper hand!"
"So what do you suggest?" the first voice asked.
"Recruit him?"
"Eliminate him?"
"Eliminate? Ha!" The shrill voice dripped with mockery. "Who's going? Gojo Satoru's still locked in the Prison Realm! Or are you begging Sukuna to do it? Can he even handle it?!"
The argument swelled in the cramped darkness, like vultures squabbling over scraps. Then, a deep, resonant voice, like an ancient bell, crushed the noise:
"Enough!"
The voice wasn't loud, but it carried immense weight, instantly silencing the clamor.
"Bickering like common rabble," the deep voice scolded coldly. "Where is your dignity? Your decorum?"
The darkness fell dead silent. Dust under the light source hovered uneasily in the invisible pressure.
In the dim glow, the murky air seemed to solidify. The deep, aged voice rolled over the silence with unquestionable authority:
"Regarding this 'Nero,'" it paused, "send Maki Zen'in and Kento Nanami to make contact. As for Sukuna's vessel and Gojo Satoru…"
The voice, devoid of emotion, delivered cold directives like hammer strikes:
"1. Confirm Suguru Geto's survival and declare his death again."
"2. Designate Gojo Satoru as a co-conspirator in the Shibuya Incident, permanently expelled from the jujutsu world. Any attempt to break his seal will be treated as complicity."
"3. Declare Yaga Masamichi guilty of instigating Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto in the incident, sentenced to death."
"4. Immediately execute Yuji Itadori."
"5. Assign Yuta Okkotsu to carry out Yuji Itadori's execution."
"6. Maki Zen'in and Kento Nanami are to make contact with the Shibuya Incident's wildcard—Nero."
The final two words landed like an icy stamp on an invisible verdict.
The darkness fell silent again, the dust settling.
After faint air currents stirred, the dimness returned to complete stillness. The decision was made—no one responded, no one questioned.
Execution was the only path.
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