The room was circular, carved deep beneath layers of reinforced stone and barrier seals. No windows. No screens. Only a single source of light hovering above a black stone table etched with star-like patterns.
Izana stood at its center.
Across from him, leaning against one of the pillars with his arms crossed, was the vice-captain of Night Sky.
Astra Kurose.
Where Izana was stillness, Astra was pressure. His presence alone warped the air slightly, like something always on the verge of movement. His sharp eyes followed Izana closely—not with doubt, but with restrained impatience.
"You felt it too," Astra said. "The boy."
Izana nodded without turning. "Of course."
Astra pushed off the pillar. "Then why are we still waiting?"
He stepped closer, voice low but sharp. "If Ren Oshimiya is truly what our scouts claim—if he stands at the intersection of both systems—then taking him early solves everything. You could do it yourself."
Izana finally looked at him.
And smiled faintly.
"You're asking why I won't walk into the center of the modern era and declare war."
Astra's jaw tightened. "I'm asking why we hesitate."
Izana raised a hand. The symbols on the table shifted, light forming three figures.
"Because," Izana said calmly, "the world currently stands on three pillars."
The first figure sharpened.
"Gojo Satoru. The ceiling of cursed techniques. The man who rewrote what 'impossible' means for sorcerers."
The second followed.
"Hikaru Oshimiya. A ruler of minds. A quirk so absolute that even chaos obeys him. And unlike Gojo—he plans."
Astra's expression darkened.
"And the third," Izana continued.
"All Might. The symbol that refuses to fade. Even weakened, he holds the faith of millions. Symbols are more dangerous than weapons."
The light dimmed.
Izana turned fully toward Astra.
"You cannot defeat any one of them," he said evenly.
Silence.
Not insult.
Not challenge.
Fact.
Astra exhaled slowly. "And you?"
Izana met his gaze.
"I could survive one," he said. "Possibly cripple another."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But I would not win the war."
Astra clicked his tongue. "So Phase One."
"Yes," Izana replied. "Phase One."
He waved his hand, dispersing the figures.
"This era does not fall through brute force," Izana said. "It collapses through information."
Astra's eyes narrowed. "You're saying power isn't enough."
"I'm saying," Izana corrected, "power without narrative is useless."
He walked past Astra toward the far wall, where faint projections of news feeds, hero reports, and sealed jujutsu records flickered briefly before fading.
"In this age, perception moves faster than strength. Faith spreads faster than fear. And trust—once broken—never returns."
Astra was quiet now.
Izana stopped.
"Hikaru Oshimiya vanished to America years ago," he continued. "His absence stabilized the board. His return destabilizes it."
Astra understood immediately.
"You want to know why he's back."
Izana nodded.
"And who knows it," he added. "And who fears it."
He turned slightly.
"Contact our scout," Izana said. "Have them obtain everything regarding Hikaru Oshimiya's return. Travel logs. Hero Commission awareness. Jujutsu High responses."
Astra smirked. "Digging up ghosts."
"Digging up leverage," Izana corrected.
He looked upward, as if seeing through layers of stone and sky.
"When the pillars begin to crack," he said softly, "the boy will no longer be protected by strength alone."
Astra straightened.
"And then?"
Izana's eyes reflected nothing but darkness between stars.
"Then Ren Oshimiya will have to choose," he said. "Order… or truth."
The lights dimmed.
Somewhere far above them, heroes trained, sorcerers watched, and a boy learned to control power the world was not ready to face.
And Night Sky began to move.