Chapter Twenty Six: Shinjuku Showdown; Part II

The Bloody Handshakes

The crumbling radio tower jutted out of the desolation like a jagged claw reaching for the heavens, casting a shadow over the ghostly remains of Shinjuku. The city was a graveyard of twisted steel and shattered concrete, its streets empty save for the echoes of a life long abandoned. The wind screeched as it whipped through the skeletal structures, carrying with it a haunting melody of despair.

Atop the broken tower stood Sukuna, his figure shrouded in the fading light of dusk. His white robe billowed against the breeze, a spectral banner of dominance. His crimson eyes scanned the wasteland below, glinting with malevolence. There was a smug satisfaction in his posture, his presence a declaration of supremacy over a world too weak to resist him.

He flexed his arms—Megumi Fushiguro's arms—testing the strength of the body he had claimed. It wasn't just a vessel; it was a tool, one with untapped power waiting to be carved into something monstrous. A wicked grin spread across his lips, revealing sharp teeth that gleamed like knives.

"This boy," Sukuna muttered, his voice low, gravelly, and laced with disdain, "had potential. So much potential. And he squandered it."

He tightened his fists, feeling the weight and responsiveness of the stolen limbs. The Ten Shadows technique was exquisite, a masterpiece of sorcery. And yet, Megumi hadn't even scratched its surface. The thought made Sukuna laugh—a deep, guttural sound that echoed into the void.

"Pitiful," he sneered, shaking his head. "He could barely control the shikigami, let alone harness their full strength. What a waste."

He adjusted the collar of his robe with deliberate precision, his chuckles fading into silence. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, the twilight darkening as his mood shifted. His grin faltered, replaced by a scowl as two names forced their way into his thoughts.

Satoru Gojo.

And that brat—Ten-something Gojo.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed. The memory of that boy sent a ripple of irritation through him. Ten Gojo was no mere child; he was an aberration. An anomaly. His cursed energy was overwhelming, a storm that refused to be tamed. Sukuna had felt it firsthand, a chaotic force that mocked the very fabric of existence.

"That child," Sukuna murmured, his tone venomous, "shouldn't exist."

He exhaled sharply, the memory of that power gnawing at the edges of his ego. Ten had sacrificed everything—his parents, his innocence—for strength. And it had worked. The boy had clawed his way into the realm of the gods, but even that wasn't the extent of his abilities. Sukuna knew there was more. Something hidden. Something dangerous.

"Limitless potential," he whispered, the words bitter on his tongue.

The boy's domain was a nightmare brought to life, a reality forged from illusion and made tangible through the mastery of Limitless. And those eyes—the Jōrikugan—were more than tools for energy manipulation. They were weapons, capable of seeing beyond what should be seen.

Sukuna's grip on his stolen body tightened. That's why he'd made the binding vow. That boy couldn't be allowed to fight. Not now. Not ever.

A dark laugh rumbled in his chest, breaking the oppressive silence. "So powerful," he mused, a cruel smile creeping onto his face. "And yet, he'll only watch."

His laughter faded, leaving an air of cold determination. This battle would be his masterpiece, a symphony of destruction orchestrated by his hand alone. To ensure victory, he had gone to the ends of the earth, to the burial site of his former master—Chittagong.

There, he consumed the remains of Kush Sarito, a man whose strength rivaled that of the gods. The irony wasn't lost on Sukuna. His master, a being of immeasurable power, had chosen to live as a mortal. A waste. But now, that strength belonged to Sukuna.

"Sensei," he muttered, a cruel grin twisting his lips. "Your sacrifice won't be in vain."

A flicker of movement caught his attention, pulling him from his thoughts. Sukuna's crimson eyes sharpened, focusing on a figure in the distance.

A man stood a mile away, leaning casually against a broken wall. He wore a white jacket, his posture relaxed as if he were enjoying the view. Binoculars hung from his neck, and he raised a hand in a mocking wave.

Sukuna's grin returned, this time tinged with curiosity. "An undead," he mused aloud. "Interesting."

Beside the man was a woman, shackled to a metallic chair. Her wrists and ankles were bound, the chains gleaming under the fading light. She thrashed against her restraints, her voice a mixture of fury and desperation.

"Let me go, you bastard!" she screamed, her voice carrying over the wind.

Sukuna's gaze locked onto hers. Her expression shifted the moment their eyes met, transforming from anger to a wild, almost manic excitement.

"Sukuna-sama!" she cried, her tone shifting to one of adoration. "You're here! You're really here!"

Sukuna averted his eyes, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "Tch. So Kenjaku brought her back too?"

He rubbed his temple, irritation flickering across his face. She had always been a nuisance, her obsessive affection grating on his patience.

A sudden shift in the air made him freeze. It was faint at first, a ripple that quickly grew into a tidal wave of cursed energy. Sukuna turned his gaze skyward, watching as a helicopter descended from the clouds.

The chopper hovered for a moment before a figure leapt from its side. The man landed with effortless grace, straightening as if he'd merely stepped off a curb.

Satoru Gojo.

The Six Eyes sorcerer adjusted his blindfold, a smirk tugging at his lips. His posture was casual, almost lazy, but the energy radiating from him was anything but.

"Aw~, already missing me, Sukuna-chan?" Gojo teased, his voice dripping with mockery.

Sukuna leapt from the tower, landing with a force that cracked the ground beneath him. He straightened, his aura a suffocating wave of malice.

"We'll see after I cut you in half," Sukuna said, his voice low and dangerous.

Gojo's smirk widened, his confidence unshaken. "Too bad, Mr. King! After all, I'm the strongest."

Sukuna's grin returned, razor-sharp and full of promise. "You'll die," he said, his tone final. "I guarantee you that."

Gojo tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. "Nah," he said with a wink. "I'll win."

Õ~Õ

The streets of Shinjuku were eerily quiet, an oppressive silence hanging in the air like a curse. The ruins of the once-bustling city loomed around them, skeletal remnants of buildings casting jagged shadows under the pale light of a crescent moon. The wind howled through the empty streets, carrying with it an unsettling chill.

Maki and Yuta walked side by side through the desolation, their steps crunching against the broken asphalt. Yuta couldn't help but steal glances at Maki, who walked with a strange, almost predatory grace. She exuded an aura that made his skin crawl—a dangerous energy that was nothing like the Maki he remembered.

"So…" Yuta began, his voice hesitant, almost trembling. "Maki-san… what were you doing for the last month?"

She didn't look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the path ahead, her expression carved from stone. "Training," she replied curtly.

"Right, training…" he echoed, nodding nervously.

Yuta gripped the hilt of his katana tighter, his palms clammy against the polished steel. The fight with Sukuna was drawing closer, an inevitability they had spent weeks preparing for. Gojo-sensei had some new tricks up his sleeve, sure, but Sukuna was a monster of an entirely different caliber. No amount of preparation felt like enough.

His gaze drifted back to Maki. She radiated confidence, a stark contrast to the knot of anxiety twisting in his gut. She wasn't just confident—she was different. Her presence, or rather the lack of it, unsettled him. It was as if she had become a ghost, her energy erased entirely.

Maki turned her head slightly, catching his staring. "Something wrong?"

"N-no, no," Yuta stammered, quickly looking away. "Just… excited!"

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into the faintest smirk. "Well, I am too," she said, flexing her arms. "Can't wait to try out some new moves."

"New moves," Yuta repeated, his voice hollow.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the whisper of the wind. The shadows around them seemed to deepen, the night pressing in closer.

Maki's voice cut through the stillness like a blade. "So, I heard Itadori and Nobara have gotten pretty skilled?"

"Yeah," Yuta replied, eager to fill the quiet. "Gojo-sensei and Naruto-kun trained them really well. Me too."

"That brat, huh?" she mused, her tone carrying an edge of amusement. "I wonder if I can match him."

Yuta blinked, staring at her in disbelief. "You mean… a spar?"

"Yes, a spar."

Was she serious? Naruto had gone toe-to-toe with Sukuna and nearly killed him. Maki thought she could spar with that?

Maki's next words sent a chill down his spine. "Damn, I wanted to fight Sukuna too."

Yuta stopped in his tracks, his jaw slack. Had she lost her mind? Fighting Sukuna wasn't bravery—it was suicide. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

"Maki-san," he finally managed, "I commend your confidence, but fighting Sukuna… it's not exactly the wisest choice."

"Baka-sensei is fighting him. So?"

Yuta's lips pressed into a thin line. Gojo-sensei was in a league of his own. But Maki? This new, unsettlingly cocky Maki?

His thoughts were interrupted by a flicker of movement in the distance. His senses sharpened, and before he could fully process it, Maki moved like lightning.

"Huh," he muttered, blinking.

Maki stood inches from him, her hand outstretched. In her grip was a spear, its glowing tip mere inches from his face.

"You should be more vigilant, Yuta," she said, crushing the weapon in her hand like it was made of paper.

His heart thundered in his chest as he followed her gaze to the dead end of the street. There, a slim figure emerged from the shadows, walking slowly into the moonlight.

"Oh my," the figure said, her voice smooth and dripping with mockery. "I didn't expect you to be that fast. How foolish of me to underestimate you."

Maki's eyes narrowed. "Judging from your lack of clothes, I don't doubt it," she said flatly.

Yuta straightened his back, his katana unsheathing with a metallic ring. His personality shifted, his voice hard and commanding. "Identify yourself," he demanded.

Maki smirked, clearly amused by his sudden shift.

The woman stepped fully into view, her body unsettling to behold. She wore no clothes, her modesty obscured by shimmering distortions of space—evidence of some cursed technique. Her expression twisted in annoyance.

"I heard Sukuna was going to fight a Six-Eyes user," she said, her tone dismissive. "Thought I'd come and watch."

"We can't allow that," Yuta said firmly. "Leave or face us."

The woman tilted her head, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "You think you brats can fight me? That's cute. Try me—"

Before the woman could finish, Maki was suddenly where she stood, her fist connecting with a sickening crack. The woman's body shot through the air like a missile, disappearing into the ruins of a distant stadium.

Yuta's jaw dropped. "Did you just punch her out of Shinjuku?"

Maki glanced at her knuckles, her grin widening. "Nah, I was aiming for that shop there. Guess I used a little too much strength."

"'A little too much'?" Yuta repeated, incredulous. Just what kind of training had she gone through?

The air around the stadium rippled with cursed energy, the woman rising into the air like a vengeful spirit. Her eyes burned with fury, her voice echoing unnaturally. "You brats… I'll show you your place now!"

Maki cracked her knuckles, her excitement palpable. "Good. I was starting to get bored."

Yuta sighed, his katana glowing as he infused it with cursed energy. "As you wish," he muttered, stepping into position beside her.

The wind howled again, the shadows deepening as the battle began.

Õ~Õ

The monitor room hummed with an eerie glow, the flickering screens casting harsh light across the tense faces of Shoko, Nanami, Hakari, Yaga, Mei Mei, Kashimo, and Nobara. They were gathered around the largest screen, which displayed Gojo and Sukuna standing face-to-face amidst the ruins of Shinjuku.

The tension in the room was palpable, but it wasn't from anticipation—it was from frustration.

"Why the hell are they still talking?" Hakari growled, his fingers drumming against the table. "It's been twenty minutes of Gojo smirking and Sukuna grinning like a maniac. Just throw a punch already!"

Nanami adjusted his glasses with deliberate calm, though his clenched jaw betrayed his irritation. "Typical Gojo. He always has to turn a fight into a theatrical production."

"More like a comedy special," Nobara muttered, arms crossed. "I swear, if Sukuna cracks a joke next, I'm throwing this chair."

Shoko leaned back in her seat, her expression one of resigned amusement. "You all should know by now that Gojo enjoys the sound of his own voice as much as he enjoys fighting."

Kashimo, however, was less amused. His fingers twitched as if itching to be out there. "If they're not going to fight, let me at him. I'll make it quick."

"Sure," Yaga deadpanned. "Let's just throw you in there with Sukuna. Brilliant idea."

Kashimo grunted but didn't argue further.

Mei Mei, on the other hand, appeared unfazed. She was lounging back, twirling a strand of her hair, her trademark smirk firmly in place. "You're all missing the point. The anticipation makes the payoff sweeter. This is good drama."

"Good drama?" Nobara scoffed. "This isn't a soap opera, Mei Mei!"

Before the argument could escalate, Yaga switched to another screen. The group's focus shifted to the feed showing Yuta and Maki battling the sorcerer they had dubbed Sky Girl.

The resurrected sorcerer hovered mid-air, her form surrounded by swirling distortions of space as she launched projectile after projectile at the pair. Maki darted around with astonishing speed, while Yuta deflected attacks with his katana, his cursed energy glowing like a beacon.

"They're holding the line," Yaga said, nodding approvingly. "At least someone is being productive."

"They're doing more than holding the line," Nanami observed, his tone grudgingly impressed. "Maki is… terrifying."

"She's definitely not the same Maki," Shoko murmured, a flicker of concern in her voice.

"Yeah," Hakari agreed, his eyes glued to the screen. "She just threw Sky Girl through a building like she was a ragdoll. What the hell kind of training did she do?"

As they watched, a smaller screen in the corner caught Nobara's attention. "Wait, what's that?" she asked, pointing.

Yaga enlarged the feed, and the room collectively leaned in. On a distant rooftop, a man in a white jacket stood watching the confrontation between Gojo and Sukuna. His stance was casual, his arms crossed as he grinned like he was enjoying a private show. Beside him, a woman was tied to a chair, struggling and cursing loudly, her voice inaudible through the screen.

Nanami's eyes narrowed. "Is that…?"

"It can't be," Shoko whispered, leaning closer to the monitor.

"Impossible," Nanami muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That's Toji Fushiguro."

"Toji?" Shoko asked, her brow furrowed. "But he's been dead for… what? Ten years?"

"Apparently not," Nanami said grimly, his expression darkening.

Hakari whistled low. "That guy has some nerve. Coming back from the dead just to spectate."

"More like to enjoy the chaos," Kashimo added.

Mei Mei's chuckle broke through the tense silence. "Of course, he'd be here. He wouldn't miss a fight of this magnitude." She tilted her head, her smile widening. "And I may have struck a little deal with him."

The room turned to stare at her.

"You what?" Nobara asked, incredulous.

Mei Mei shrugged, utterly unbothered. "He'll be taking exquisite photographs of the fight. High-quality, exclusive shots. Naturally, I'll sell them at a premium in the market."

"You struck a deal with a zombie?" Nanami's voice was flat, his expression unreadable.

"Zombie or not, business is business," Mei Mei replied with a nonchalant wave of her hand.

The room collectively groaned, though Nobara seemed particularly outraged. "Unbelievable. You'd make a deal with the devil if it meant making a profit."

Mei Mei smirked. "Only if the devil pays well."

The tension in the room shifted as the feed of Gojo and Sukuna crackled. The two figures on-screen finally moved, their stances shifting into battle-ready positions.

"Well," Yaga said, exhaling slowly. "It looks like the fight's about to begin."

"Finally," Hakari muttered, leaning forward.

"About damn time," Kashimo growled, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

On the screen, Sukuna's grin widened, his cursed energy flaring ominously, while Gojo's smirk remained unchanged, his own power rippling like an unrelenting tide. The storm was about to break, and every pair of eyes in the room was glued to the screen.

Õ~Õ

The dim, oppressive glow of the Star Corridor stretched on endlessly, its shadows writhing like living creatures trapped in a slow, agonising dance. The walls—etched with ancient markings—seemed to breathe, exhaling a low hum that resonated in the bones. Each step Kenjaku took echoed ominously, reverberating as if the corridor itself acknowledged his presence.

He moved with an eerie elegance, his stolen body fitting him like a grotesque mask he wore with pride. Suguru Geto's features were still handsome, still noble, but the malice in his eyes twisted them into something unrecognisable.

Beside him, walking in perfect sync, was a child—a small, pink-haired girl whose honey-golden eyes reflected nothing. Shinko Itadori. Seven years old. Kenjaku's second-best creation. She was dressed plainly in a black uniform, her sleeves slightly too long, her steps soft yet deliberate. She didn't smile, didn't speak unless spoken to. She was perfect. A blank slate. A weapon sculpted to annihilate.

Kenjaku glanced down at her, his expression one of cruel amusement. "Well, Shinko," he began, his voice smooth and almost fatherly, "what do you think of Jujutsu High's architecture? Beautiful, isn't it? Ancient yet sturdy. A marvel of human ingenuity."

Shinko's response was immediate, monotone, and devoid of thought. "Doesn't matter. Shinko protects Uncle Geto."

Kenjaku chuckled, the sound echoing like dry leaves being crushed underfoot. "Good girl. That's exactly what I like to hear."

Their journey through the corridor continued in silence, save for the ominous hum. It was a silence that pressed down like a heavy blanket, suffocating and thick. Until it wasn't.

"Hey there, cutie!" A voice rang out, playful and mocking, cutting through the oppressive atmosphere like a knife.

Kenjaku's steps halted, his eyes narrowing slightly. From the shadows stepped Tsukumo Yuki, her ever-present smirk plastered across her face. Her shikigami hovered lazily around her, its form shifting like smoke caught in a breeze.

Shinko turned her blank gaze toward Yuki, her head tilting ever so slightly. "Should Shinko kill her?" she asked, her voice flat and mechanical, like a broken doll reciting a phrase over and over.

Kenjaku reached out, ruffling her hair with a disturbingly gentle hand. "Not now, Shinko. Patience."

Yuki placed a hand over her chest, feigning hurt. "That hurt my kokoro, y'know! You wound me, Uncle Geto."

Kenjaku's lips curved into a sinister smile. "Your antics are as tiresome as ever, Yuki. But I suppose it's part of your charm."

Before Yuki could retort, two shadows emerged from the depths of the corridor, their presence radiating hostility. Yuji Itadori and Choso stepped forward, their eyes blazing with determination.

"The greatest creation and the failed experiment," Kenjaku said, his tone dripping with mockery. "How poetic to see you two together. Like moths drawn to a flame that will inevitably consume them."

Yuji ignored the taunt, his eyes locking onto Shinko. His voice was steady, but the emotion behind it was unmistakable. "Shinko, listen to me. Kenjaku isn't who you think he is. He's a monster. He's using you, just like he's used everyone else. You don't have to protect him."

Shinko didn't blink, didn't falter. Her response came like clockwork. "Shinko protects Uncle Geto."

Yuji's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his composure. "You don't have to—"

Kenjaku's laughter interrupted him, rich and mocking. "Oh, Yuji. Always so righteous. So naive. It's almost adorable."

Choso stepped forward, his hands trembling, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Shinko, you're being controlled. You're our sister. And we'll free you. Yuji and I, your Onii-chan, we'll protect you from him."

Kenjaku sighed, his expression turning bored. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he summoned a snake-like cursed spirit, its body writhing with malevolent energy as it slithered toward Yuji and Choso.

But before the creature could attack, a blinding purple light erupted through the corridor, obliterating the cursed spirit in an instant. The light surged forward, unstoppable, heading straight for Kenjaku.

Kenjaku didn't move. He didn't flinch. He simply smiled.

At the last moment, Shinko stepped in front of him. Her small hands clapped together, and the light shattered into harmless fragments, dissipating into the air. Silence followed, thick and heavy.

"Shinko protects Uncle Geto," she repeated, her voice devoid of triumph or pride. It was just a statement of fact.

Yuki let out a low whistle, shaking her head in disbelief. "Told ya she's anti-you," she muttered, her shikigami flickering uneasily beside her.

From above, a soft thud echoed as a small figure descended from the ceiling, landing gracefully on the floor. His snow-white hair shimmered like freshly fallen snow, and his body radiated cursed energy. His eyes were closed, his expression almost serene.

Kenjaku's grin widened. "And finally, the greatest—"

"Listen, Pervert Pro Max," Naruto interrupted, his voice laced with disdain and boredom. His white hair fluttered as he pointed lazily at Kenjaku. "I don't have time for your villain monologue. So, let's skip to the part where you lose, yeah?"

Kenjaku's expression soured as Yuji and Choso stepped forward, their cursed energy flaring in unison.

"My big bros are gonna kick your stolen butt, 'kay?" Naruto said, his glowing amethyst eyes snapping open, their brilliance almost divine.

"Don't do anything inappropriate to our sister, Gojo!" Choso shouted, his voice trembling with anger.

Naruto shuddered, looking genuinely horrified. "She's, what, six? Seven? Ew. Gross."

"You're seven yourself," Yuji pointed out, deadpan.

Naruto blinked, scratching his head. "Oh, yeah. That's true."

From the corner, Yuki gave Naruto an exaggerated thumbs-up. "You've got my approval, Naruto-kun! Go and get her!"

Naruto sighed, the weight of the situation settling over him. He turned to Shinko, his playful demeanour fading. Her blank expression didn't change, but the air around her grew darker, colder, her killing intent palpable.

"Shinko protects Uncle Geto," she repeated, her voice a chilling mantra.

Naruto shook his head, forming a hand sign. "Too bad, brat. 'Cause you just walked into my playground."

Her honey eyes blinked, a flicker of confusion the only sign she'd heard him.

"Domain Expansion: Scarlet Tsukuyomi," Naruto declared, his voice echoing like thunder.

And then, all hell broke loose.

Õ~Õ

Author's Note:

Back after…what? Two months? Yeah, I know. I kind of needed a break from this story, so I shifted to other projects for a while. But hey, I'm back now!

Speaking of other projects, check out my other stories, I'm sure you'll enjoy them. I highly recommend:

Branching Out.

Shinobi Who Slays.

Shinobi: The Crystal Sage.

An Honored One (A sequel to this story, hehe.)

It's fascinating to see how my writing style has evolved. If you compare the first chapter with the latest one, it feels like two entirely different people wrote them. Honestly, I think some readers drop the story early on because of those rough beginnings. I really hope I get the chance to rewrite those chapters once this story is complete.

Speaking of milestones, my one-year anniversary on this site is just around the corner! I'm super excited about that, though I doubt I'll finish any of my stories before then—especially with my entrance exams coming up in January. Oh, and guess what? I scored 86% in my final exams! Pretty happy about that.

Thanks a ton for sticking with this chapter! Your reviews and feedback keep me motivated to write with more depth, more detail, and more enthusiasm.

So, don't forget to drop your thoughts in the review section. They mean the world to me as your words motivate me to write better, larger and with more depth

Till next time!