Threads of infinity: Shadows of Judgment
Yuta Okkotsu stood motionless in the center of the chamber, his hands pressed against his thighs in a rigid bow as the elders watched. The weight of their directive settled heavily on his shoulders.
"His actions are reckless," the elder seated furthest back continued, his voice cold. "But more concerning is his resemblance to Gojo Satoru in defiance and power. We cannot allow history to repeat itself."
Yuta tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the photograph again. It was a captured moment of Tsukasa mid-stride, the subtle distortion of cursed energy rippling around his figure. He studied it intently—the frayed cloak, the ruined buildings in the background, and the faint glow of his icy eyes.
"And yet," Yuta said carefully, "you're not ordering an inquiry or an attempt to reason with him. You've immediately branded him a threat."
"Would you suggest otherwise?" the elder snapped, his cursed energy flaring briefly. "You've seen what unchecked power can do. Tsukasa Gojo has caused irreparable damage, even if unintentionally. He has already crossed a line."
Yuta clenched his jaw. The image of Rika—her cursed form, monstrous yet pure in its protection of him—flashed in his mind. He thought of Satoru Gojo, the man who had taught him to believe in the people who carried the burdens of their power.
"Unchecked power," Yuta repeated under his breath.
"Your hesitation is troubling," a sharp voice interjected. "Do not let sentiment cloud your duty. This mission isn't about vengeance; it's about ensuring stability in our world."
Yuta straightened, his usual calm betraying a spark of defiance. "I'll carry out the mission. But I won't kill him without cause."
The lead elder's face darkened. "The cause is his existence."
Yuta didn't respond. The photograph disappeared back into the folder with a snap, and a scroll detailing the mission was thrust into his hands. He turned on his heel, his white uniform catching the dim light, and walked away without another word.
As he exited the council chambers, the oppressive air lifted slightly. Yuta sighed deeply, his free hand gripping the strap of his katana.
"Tsukasa Gojo," he murmured. "What's the real reason they want you dead?"
He stepped into the moonlit courtyard, his cursed energy surging as he prepared to leave. Somewhere out there, Tsukasa was moving, and Yuta would need answers before deciding whether to follow through with this grim task.