Kenjaku didn't panic.
That was the first sign something was wrong.
He stood inside the Black Flash Octagon Cage with a sinister, confident curl returning to the corners of his mouth, the expression of a man who has been in worse traps than this and has already identified the way out.
During the exchange, he'd also landed several Black Flashes. His Cursed Energy circulation had recovered. His Domain was back.
"Not bad, Yuji Itadori. A piece of organic scrap who could only swing his fists." He tilted his head with chilling amusement. "I didn't expect you to be more than just a failure."
"But what a pity, my own Domain has also recovered."
"Domain Expansion!"
"Womb Profusion!"
His hand seals completed with the fluid speed of a thousand years of practice. He was confident. As an open-barrier Domain, his structure had no physical shell, it would shred Yuji's closed-barrier cage from the outside, the same principle that had collapsed Gojo's first domain expansion.
And this was Yuji's first time expanding a Domain. In terms of refinement and structural stability, the boy was an amateur.
The next millisecond, his expression froze.
Yuji's Domain didn't have an outer shell either.
"You can actually use an open-barrier Domain too?"
Since the unsealing of Gojo Satoru, this was the first genuine terror Kenjaku had shown on screen. The clinical composure that had persisted through every confrontation in the season — through Gojo's resurrection, through the Super Repeated Assimilation, through everything — had just cracked.
Yuji's gaze was entirely empty of human warmth.
"I don't care about your rules."
"Right now... I just want you dead."
He waved a hand.
A massive bolt of black-and-red static shattered down from the cage's ceiling directly onto Kenjaku's coordinates. Kenjaku threw both hands forward, unleashing a tide of hundreds of Cursed Spirits to intercept it. The collision left him panting, cold sweat running down his temples — he had felt, for a fraction of a second, the literal weight of his own death arriving.
"Black Flash — Thunder Dragon!"
Lucas waved his hand again. A colossal serpentine dragon of pure black-and-red static materialized in the void, its entire body wreathed in high-density kinetic lightning, roaring as it lunged.
[YUJI IS THE GOAT. He finally stood up.]
[Who said he only knows how to box? Behold the ultimate secret art of the Black Flash!]
Kenjaku threw a thirty-meter defensive wall of compressed Cursed Spirits into the dragon's path. The Thunder Dragon opened its maw. A hyper-concentrated beam of black-red light erupted, tearing through the wall of spirits and melting them in under a second. The beam hit Kenjaku squarely in the chest.
His Domain shattered into glowing shards.
Mountain Retreat. Broadcast Lounge.
Dakota Fanning was watching with a wide, admiring smile. "The raw emotion in Lucas's acting. It's breathtaking."
"If anyone tries to argue that Leo Vance isn't a writing genius, I will personally throw them out of my kitchen," Gordon Ramsay said, releasing the tension from his shoulders.
Ryan glanced at him with a playful side-eye. "I recall a certain British chef claiming last week the script was becoming 'too chaotic'?"
Gordon cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. "That was constructive criticism, Ryan. Highly analytical observation."
Celestial Peak. Starlight Lounge.
"Destroy him, Lucas!" Julian Cross waved his fist at the screen, wiping the last of his tears from Choso's death. "Avenge Choso!"
Della Rose was flushed with adrenaline, still on her feet. "Go! Let this ancient parasite see what a real Black Flash looks like!"
Maya West slapped her armrest. "Crush him! Don't let him breathe!"
On screen, Yuji's body was now wrapped in a dense, humming armor of black-and-red cursed energy. Blood ran down from his forehead, staining half his face deep crimson — the specific image of someone who has moved past the limit of what survival looks like and has decided not to care.
He ignored Kenjaku's screaming entirely.
A sleek black-red blade of solid static materialized in his right hand.
"This is for my brother. Choso."
He slashed down. Blood sprayed from Kenjaku's chest.
"This is for Nanami."
"This is for Junpei."
"This is for everyone you've destroyed."
Each name landed on the audience like a strike, the show's dead called out one by one, each one given a moment's weight before the blade moved again. The accumulated grief of three seasons directed through a single, specific act of accounting.
Robert Sterling's performance as Kenjaku being systematically dismantled — the ancient, arrogant mastermind transitioning into a cornered, pathetic beast — was the work of an actor at the height of his craft, and the Meridian Award for Outstanding Supporting Actor he'd received earlier that year had never felt more earned than it did watching this sequence.
"Don't kill me!" Kenjaku shrieked, scrambling backward until his spine hit the edge of the cage. He clutched his bleeding chest, breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps. "I know the truth! I know what happened to your father, Yuji!"
Yuji looked down at the bleeding parasite. The static blade hummed in his grip, casting a harsh, flickering light over his face.
"Years ago, there was an unknown Jujutsu Sorcerer who hunted Cursed Spirits," Kenjaku rushed out, his voice trembling violently as he pressed a hand against his open wounds. "Every single one... destroyed by a Black Flash. Witnesses once saw him land ten consecutive Black Flashes — a record that still stands in the historical archives. A monster hidden from the modern world!"
Kenjaku swallowed hard, tears of pure panic welling in his eyes. "That man... was Jin Itadori!"
The name landed like a physical blow, but Yuji didn't blink. His expression remained utterly unreadable.
"And then—" Kenjaku's voice cracked, his wide, manic eyes pleading for his life. "And then the higher-ups found out, they—"
"And then," Yuji interrupted. His voice was level. Quiet. The specific, heavy quiet of someone who already knew the depth of the rot. "You stole that woman's corpse. You wore her skin and played the part of my mother... just so you could kill him when his guard was down."
"I didn't! I didn't!" Kenjaku screamed, retreating, drool at the corner of his mouth.
Kenjaku froze. Then, he let out a pathetic, desperate wail, retreating further into the corner, drool leaking from the side of his mouth. "I didn't! I swear I didn't!"
It started as a low, wet chuckle in his throat and bubbled up into a sharp, mocking cackle. The trembling stopped instantly. The weeping terror vanished from his face as if it had never been there at all, replaced by a cold, vicious smirk.
The deep gashes across his torso began to rapidly knit together, muscle fibers weaving back into place in a sickening flare of reverse cursed energy. He stood up casually, dusting off his shoulders.
"Ah, you really are a sweet boy, Yuji. You actually bought that?" Kenjaku sighed, his voice returning to its usual, amused elegance. "Ten consecutive Black Flashes? Jin Itadori wasn't a sorcerer. He was just a pathetic, ordinary man with a fragile heart — so incredibly easy to break."
He looked down at Yuji, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction.
"You were careless. I was just lying to stall for time."
"From the moment I took over Suguru Geto's vessel, I have been hoarding Cursed Spirits." He held up three fingers. "Do you know how many?"
A pause.
"Thirty thousand."
"Maximum Output: Uzumaki!"
A forty-meter black hole of highly compressed cursed energy erupted from his palms — thirty thousand howling, vengeful souls roaring within the dark vortex as it tore across the street toward Yuji's coordinates.
Yuji looked at it without fear.
He extended both hands and drew a massive volume of blood-red static into his palms, compressing it into something that hadn't existed in the series before this moment.
"Maximum Technique: Obsidian."
A fifty-meter sphere of pure black-and-red static floated in the air, covered in jagged lightning-like barbs. The energy simultaneously condensed around Yuji's vessel — a sleek, black-and-red tactical armor of solid light forming across his body.
The two forces met.
The forty-meter Uzumaki held its ground for less than two seconds before Obsidian's gravitational density crushed it. The black hole crumbled, and the blood-black sphere swept forward, swallowing Kenjaku whole in a blinding flash of white-hot kinetic light.
On the other side of the apocalyptic Shinjuku sky, the hundred-meter Evil God of Shinjuku — still rampaging through the ruins — suddenly froze.
Its massive body trembled.
On the center of its grotesque ink-black head, a human face screamed to life — reflecting the exact features of Megumi Fushiguro. The eyes snapped open, radiating ancient, dark crimson.
"Hahaha!"
"I, Sukuna, have returned."
Plz Drop Some Power Stones.