Toji had captured Riko Amanai.
By the time Shinichi arrived at the Tombs of the Star Corridor—Tengen's underground sanctuary—the
situation had already devolved into chaos. Geto Suguru was wounded, barely conscious. Kuroi,
Riko's maid, was nowhere to be seen.
And Toji stood over them all, a dagger in one hand and contempt in his eyes.
"You again, kid?" Toji didn't seem surprised to see him. "Shouldn't you be running back to the
Kamo family?"
"I told you—I want to see how this plays out."
"Fair enough. Watch, then. This is what happens when sorcerers fail."
He raised the dagger toward Riko's heart.
"Wait."
Shinichi's voice cut through the underground chamber.
"What now?"
"You said you'd teach me to fight after this mission. Remember?"
Toji paused, genuinely amused. "That's what you're worried about right now?"
"I'm holding you to your word. Which means I have a vested interest in you surviving the next few
hours."
"Surviving?" Toji laughed. "Kid, I just killed Gojo Satoru. There's no one left who can threaten
me."
"Are you sure about that?"
Something in Shinichi's tone made Toji's instincts flare. He turned, scanning the chamber for
threats—but found nothing.
"What are you playing at?"
"Gojo's not dead."
Silence.
"Bullshit. I stabbed him through the throat with the Inverted Spear. Even if he survived
initially, he would have bled out by now."
"The Reverse Cursed Technique. He learned it."
Toji's expression didn't change, but his body language shifted almost imperceptibly. "The
technique that regenerates the body? At the moment of death? That's impossible."
"For anyone else, maybe. But Gojo Satoru isn't anyone else."
For the first time, Shinichi saw something like uncertainty in Toji's eyes. Not fear—Toji
Fushiguro didn't seem capable of fear—but calculation. Reconsideration.
"Even if that's true, I'll just kill him again. Properly this time."
"Will you? He's had time to recover. Time to master his new ability. Time to figure out where
you're vulnerable." Shinichi met Toji's gaze. "You beat him by surprise. By exploiting his
inexperience. Do you really think that'll work twice?"
Toji said nothing.
"Here's what I'm proposing," Shinichi continued. "Let Riko live. Take your money from the Time
Vessel Association and disappear. Everyone wins."
"The Association paid me to kill her. My reputation—"
"Is worthless if you're dead. And Gojo Satoru is coming. I can feel his cursed energy from here."
It was a bluff. Shinichi couldn't actually sense Gojo's approach. But he'd sent Shoko those
coordinates, and he was betting on Gojo's personality—the arrogance, the need to prove himself,
the refusal to stay down.
"You're an interesting kid," Toji said slowly. "Manipulative little bastard, aren't you?"
"I learned from the best."
Toji considered for a long moment. Then, incredibly, he laughed.
"Fine. I'll play your game—for now." He sheathed the dagger. "But if you're wrong about Gojo, I'm
coming back to finish this. And I'm using you as bait."
"Fair enough."
Toji grabbed Shinichi by the collar—his preferred method of transport—and they vanished from the
Tombs of the Star Corridor, leaving behind a wounded Geto and a terrified but alive Riko Amanai.
Shinichi's gamble had paid off.
For now.
Ten minutes later, Shinichi's gamble proved more prescient than even he had expected.
Gojo Satoru arrived at the Tombs of the Star Corridor like a force of nature. His wounds were
healed—not just treated, but completely regenerated. And in his eyes was a light that hadn't been
there before.
"Where is he?"
Geto, still recovering from his injuries, shook his head. "Gone. He took Shinichi and left."
"Shinichi? The Kamo kid?"
"He was here. Talked Toji out of killing Riko. I don't know how."
Shoko, who had arrived moments after Gojo, was already treating the wounded. "He sent me a text.
Coordinates and a message to bring medical supplies. He knew this would happen."
Gojo's expression was unreadable. "A five-year-old manipulated the Sorcerer Killer into abandoning
his mission."
"Apparently."
"I want to meet this kid properly."
Meanwhile, Toji had brought Shinichi to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It
was the kind of place that showed up in crime dramas—rusty infrastructure, broken windows, the
smell of old machinery and older blood.
"So," Toji said, settling onto a crate. "You called my bluff back there. How did you know Gojo was
still alive?"
"I didn't know for certain. I made an educated guess."
"Based on what?"
"His personality. Gojo Satoru doesn't die unless he chooses to. And he definitely didn't choose to
die today."
Toji snorted. "That's not evidence. That's faith."
"Sometimes faith is all you have."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Despite everything—the kidnapping, the threats, the
violence—Shinichi found himself oddly at ease around Toji. The man was a killer, yes. But he was
also honest. In a world of politics and hidden agendas, that honesty was almost refreshing.
"You mentioned teaching me to fight," Shinichi said eventually.
"I did. Not now, though. I need to disappear for a while. Cool things off."
"After, then. Do you have any way to contact you?"
Toji considered, then pulled out a battered phone. "This is a burner. I'll send you the number.
When things settle down, we'll talk."
"Thank you, Toji."
The assassin looked at Shinichi with something approaching respect. "You're going to be dangerous
someday, kid. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
"Neither am I."
Toji laughed—genuine laughter, the kind that lit up his usually cold eyes. "Get out of here before
I change my mind about the ransom."
Shinichi didn't need to be told twice.