The air above the tatami still carried a lingering warmth and a faint, sweet scent. Taisai Tensei slowly shifted Kitagawa, who was pretending to sleep with her eyes half-closed, her body glistening faintly with sweat, and gently laid her on the futon beside him.
As soon as the warmth of his chest left her skin, her lashes trembled. Kitagawa's eyes fluttered open, the mist of fatigue still hanging between her half-lidded gaze. Her wine-red hair clung to her damp neck. Those crimson contact lenses—hazy, yet captivating—shone faintly under the room light, holding traces of tenderness and temptation.
With a lazy stretch, she reached out and looped her arm around Taisai's neck again, pulling him closer. Her breath brushed against his ear, warm and fragrant, her voice soft and teasing—
"Ne... Ten-kun... are we going for another round?"
Taisai Tensei leaned down, brushing a kiss on her half-pouted lips—still glistening from their earlier passion.
"No," he murmured, his voice deep and roughened, yet clear. "I'm going to Shibuya."
"Eh?" Kitagawa blinked, dazed, before her gaze followed his to the simple wall clock.
The hands pointed precisely to 22:10. In an instant, the haziness in her eyes vanished, replaced by realization—the rift in the alley, the blue light, the strange sky over Shibuya... and her boyfriend's true nature.
Taisai Tensei gently took her wrist, loosening her hold from around his neck.
He rose, calm and practiced, stepping past the thin futon and the scattered traces of their intimacy. His clothes—black jeans and a plain hooded shirt—lay nearby. He slipped into them with ease.
The casual attire concealed his sharp, well-built frame, restoring the cool, almost feral aura of the man who didn't quite belong in this peaceful world.
Kitagawa sat up, the futon slipping to her waist. Under the amber light, her fair skin glowed faintly, but her gaze was on him alone.
She watched as Taisai Tensei approached the blank wall of the living room.
A faint ripple distorted the air. Then—
Rip—!
A quiet, blue, cross-shaped rift blossomed open. Sparks of azure light flickered at its edges, and beyond them swirled a deep, starry void—the gateway to Shibuya.
"Ten-kun!" Kitagawa called, her voice carrying excitement tinged with nervousness. She clenched her fists and waved them, her smile pure and unwavering. "Go! Beat those bad guys!"
Taisai paused, half-turning toward her. The warm light outlined his profile, his white hair catching faint reflections of blue from the portal.
He smiled. "Yeah," he said softly. "Wait for me to come back."
Then, without another word, he stepped forward. The star-flecked rift swallowed him whole.
Buzz—
The air trembled faintly. The light collapsed inward, and the rift sealed in silence, leaving behind only the faint, metallic scent of ozone.
The living room returned to stillness.
On the tatami, Kitagawa Marin sat motionless, her heart pounding. Her face was still flushed, her body heavy with lingering warmth, but her eyes—those bright, crimson-tinted eyes—sparkled with pride and awe.
Her lips curved into a smile.
"My boyfriend... is really a superhero," she whispered.
Then, suddenly—"Hah!"
She jumped up, ignoring her disheveled state, and dashed barefoot toward the kitchen, her little devil horns swaying with each step.
"Ten-kun will be hungry when he comes back!" she muttered, pulling open the refrigerator. The cold air made her shiver, but her energy didn't fade.
"Hmm... ramen? Curry? Or maybe gyoza?" She tapped her lip thoughtfully, eyes bright with excitement.
Shibuya Center – Ground Zero
The once-festive heart of Shibuya had turned into a scene from hell. Sirens wailed among collapsing buildings. Screams, alarms, and the roar of flames mingled into a chaotic symphony.
Smoke, blood, and the stench of cursed energy choked the air.
In the center of it all—on a stretch of blackened, molten ground—lay a massive heap of scorched flesh, still smoldering. Its twisted outline faintly resembled tentacles. The remains of the Special Grade Curse Spirit—Dagon.
Beside it crouched a monstrous figure with a volcanic face and a single, lidless eye.
Jogo.
He reached into the charred remains, gripping a piece of Dagon's flesh. It crumbled into ash in his palm.
"So... Dagon is dead." His gravelly voice was flat, almost detached.
He rose, brushing off the blackened dust.
"Our souls don't need humans to reincarnate," he said coldly. "A hundred years later, in the wilderness, we'll meet again."
His single eye shifted sideways—locking onto a blond man standing among three sorcerers.
Kento Nanami.
In the next heartbeat, killing intent flared—an overwhelming surge of volcanic heat erupted from Jogo's body!
No warning. No sound. Just death.
Nanami's pupils contracted. He barely registered movement before Jogo's palm pressed against his abdomen.
"First one."
Boom!
Crimson flames exploded from Jogo's hand, engulfing Nanami in a torrent of molten fire. The ground beneath him melted into a pit of lava.
"Na–Nami—!"
Maki's voice broke out, but Jogo was already beside her.
A touch—light as a tap on the shoulder.
Buzz—! Boom!
A column of fire erupted skyward, consuming Maki entirely. Her form vanished in the inferno, reduced to ash in an instant.
Only one remained—Zen'in Naobito.
He leapt backward with incredible speed, but behind him—two miniature volcanoes erupted from the ground!
"—Tch!"
Twin torrents of molten lava converged on him, swallowing him whole. The earth trembled under the explosion.
Jogo stood still, expressionless.
"Third one."
The flames subsided, leaving nothing but molten pits and searing air. Then, the ground trembled again. A suffocating wave of cursed energy—ancient, monstrous, unmistakable—rolled across the battlefield.
Jogo's single eye widened. "Sukuna's... vessel...?"
He vanished instantly, streaking toward the source. The world was silent for half a breath—
Rip—!
A blue rift opened in the air beside the lava pits. Three bodies tumbled out—Nanami, Maki, Naobito—alive, disoriented, and unburned. They lay stunned, their last memory the moment of fiery death.
"What... happened...?"
Then—step.
A foot in red and black sneakers touched the scorched ground.
From the starry rift, a young man stepped out—white hair swaying under the dying embers, black hoodie faintly rippling in the cursed wind.
Taisai Tensei.
He looked over the three, eyes calm as still water.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
Kento Nanami was first to react, forcing himself upright. His voice was hoarse but steady.
"Who are you?"
Before Taisai could answer, Maki gasped. "Nanami-senpai! Don't you know him? He's—he's that celebrity! Nero!"
Nanami blinked. "...What?"
Naobito froze mid-motion. "A celebrity?"
Three veteran sorcerers stared blankly at the young man who had just warped space itself. A celebrity who could casually rewrite the line between life and death?
Taisai ignored their bewilderment. His gaze turned toward the distance—toward the storm of cursed energy ahead. A faint grin curved his lips.
"So it's begun."