Jujutsu kaisen: King of Seven Shikigami

The corridor was silent—yet alive.

Its walls seemed to absorb sound and light, creating a space suspended between the real world and something older, darker. Rusted pipes groaned above, letting out soft creaks like the breath of a creature waking from a long slumber. Each step echoed in long, layered reverberations—rolling and folding back, as if the corridor was voicing its own existence.

Tap… tap… tap…

Two figures walked in silence.

Tora, calm in his stride and unreadable in expression, moved beside Toshiro—his older brother, whose unease was far more visible. Their shadows stretched long across the damp, grimy floor. Flickering neon lights above pulsed in irregular patterns, casting light and darkness like a heartbeat.

No other sound. Just the corridor—and the echo of their footsteps.

"So…" Toshiro finally broke the silence, his tone flat but threaded with tension. "What's the result? About Granny Ogami's question…"

Tora didn't answer right away. He halted, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper—its folds sharp, the ink already fading, as if it held knowledge not meant for just anyone.

Without a word, he handed it to Toshiro.

"Here. Including the location."

Toshiro took it. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of the information. He scanned it quickly—eyes darting over each line—then looked up at Tora again.

"Is this real?" he asked, voice quieter now, as if afraid the corridor walls themselves might hear.

Tora shrugged faintly. "I don't know if it's real or fake. But… it's what Gojo Satoru himself said."

The air thickened.

That name—Gojo Satoru—was never spoken lightly. He wasn't just a man, but a symbol. A pillar of the Jujutsu world. And now, he was the source of information that could either illuminate the past… or destroy it.

In the distance, bright light spilled into the end of the corridor—not from cursed energy or spiritual glow, just the evening sun pouring in through an open door, marking the end of their journey through the shadowed hallway.

Toshiro looked at the paper one last time, then folded it carefully and slipped it into his jacket.

"Toji's information?"

"None."

"…Alright, Tora. I really appreciate it," he said sincerely, though his eyes revealed he understood the danger tied to what he now carried.

He turned to leave, his figure bathed in sunlight as he stepped out of the corridor and disappeared into the world beyond.

Tora remained where he was.

He stared at the end of the corridor, watching Toshiro's silhouette vanish. But only for a moment—because in the silence that followed, he felt something.

A pressure.

Not physical—but from the space itself.

The air grew heavier.

There were no footsteps. But Tora knew… someone was there.

"So you've finally shown up…" he muttered, not turning around.

A powerful aura approached—a jujutsu presence not easily explained. It wasn't like any normal curse. It was the kind of presence that made time itself feel slower.

Gojo Satoru stood behind him, hands in his pockets, his signature easygoing smile on his face. His white hair glowed under the light spilling in from the corridor's end, and behind his thin dark glasses, his eyes held more than just confidence—they were the eyes of someone who knew too much.

"So you really gave him that information?" Gojo asked, casually—but the tone carried a double edge.

Tora nodded slightly, still not turning.

"He asked. I simply delivered."

Silence returned for a moment.

Gojo stepped forward slowly—his movements almost soundless, yet with a weight that shifted the space around him. He stopped beside Tora, both of them now staring toward the sunlit exit.

"I have to ask…" Tora finally said. "Are you sure… you want to revive the former users of the Six Eyes and Ten Shadows?"

It wasn't just a technical question—it was a philosophical one. The Jujutsu world was chaotic enough. Delving into the past was like opening a door that should've remained sealed.

Gojo took a short breath, then smiled—not a joyful one, but one shaded with gravity.

"A thousand percent sure," he replied without hesitation.

"Because I'm the strongest."

His words lingered in the air. Like a curse. Like fate.

__________

Several months later.

The soft yellow of the evening sky filtered through the school buildings. A gentle breeze carried the scent of fallen leaves… and old memories. Tora's steps slowed when he saw a familiar figure in the distance—standing in the same place, beneath the large tree by the path, where they had reunited after a long time.

Toshiro stood there, clad in a dark jacket and a worn scarf. A wide smile spread across his face as soon as he saw Tora approaching.

"Tora! Over here!" he called out, voice cheerful—yet with a trace of something... forced.

Tora narrowed his eyes, instincts sharpening. Still, he walked closer, replying in a flat tone, "How have you been, Toshiro?"

Toshiro smiled again, but this time, his eyes didn't match the smile.

"I… I've been alright…" he said softly. Then added, "Granny Ogami is doing well too. She's looking very healthy."

Tora watched his brother's face closely. In silence, his mind picked up on the tiny, almost invisible changes.

Something's off, he thought. When he talked about himself, he was blank. But when he mentioned Ogami… he looked alive. Has he been brainwashed? I didn't even ask about her, and yet he brought her up.

Toshiro stepped closer and, without hesitation, handed him a piece of paper.

"Tora… we have good news. Our search succeeded. We found remaining DNA of the past users of the Ten Shadows and Six Eyes."

The atmosphere tensed, and so did Toshiro's expression.

"And… Tora," he continued, voice heavy, "bring Gojo Satoru to this location."

He pressed the paper into Tora's hand.

"One week from now. Take him there. And after that… get out. Fast."

Tora glanced at the paper, then gave Toshiro a skeptical look.

"So… you're the sacrifice?" he asked, tone laced with sarcasm.

But Toshiro shook his head.

"Not me. It's… Ren's older brother."

Tora frowned. That name stirred long-forgotten pages in his memory.

Right… Ren did have an older brother.

He looked up, gaze piercing.

"Are you seriously planning to kill Gojo Satoru?"

Toshiro didn't answer with logic or reasoning.

He simply stared back—with conviction that felt insane.

"We have to kill the man who's kept Granny Ogami in chains. She… means everything to me."

Tora's fists clenched. His voice rose—not in anger, but a cry of desperation.

"Toshiro… wake up. She's probably brainwashed you!"

For the first time, Toshiro's face hardened.

His once warm eyes were now clouded with terrifying devotion.

"Shut up, Tora…" he whispered, voice low but full of force.

"That's enough. Bring the man… next week."

And that was it.

No goodbye.

Toshiro turned slowly, walking away into the lengthening shadows of dusk.

Tora stood there, watching his brother's back grow smaller.

His soul torn—between love for his family… and the fear of what they had chosen to believe.

Author's note:

Is there anyone still reading? 😂