The 5th Special Grade | Jujutsu Kaisen

The plane touched down in Sweden under a gray, oppressive sky. Furōkawa stepped off the tarmac, his leather jacket flapping in the biting wind. The golden bracelets fused to his wrists hummed faintly, pulsing with cursed energy that resonated in the air. Adjusting Onamazu in its oar form on his back, he gazed at the distant silhouette of a dense forest.

"Rota," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "Time to finish this."

She'd been clever, staying hidden in the chaos following Gondul's defeat and Sukuna's reincarnation. In the time since, she'd grown stronger, picking off the sorcerers sent to recapture her. Furōkawa knew this would be no easy fight.

The forest opened into a desolate clearing, ancient ruins of a Viking settlement looming under the leaden sky. The air was heavy with cursed energy, thick enough to choke. Furōkawa's toxic mist curled lazily at his feet, reacting to the oppressive aura as he stepped forward.

A sudden gust of wind tore through the clearing, and Rota emerged from the shadows of a crumbling longhouse. She was tall and imposing, her body encased in ornate, runed armor that shimmered with cursed energy. Her claymore rested casually on her shoulder, its edge radiating an unnatural heat. Her golden hair framed eyes that burned with predatory intent.

"You've come a long way, human," she said, her voice low and tinged with amusement. "Are you here to entertain me, or are you just tired of living?"

Furō grinned, spinning Onamazu into its axe form. "Neither. I just like knocking over overhyped bosses like you. Don't take it personally—it's just a hobby."

Rota's lips curled into a faint smile. "You'll regret your insolence."

"Probably," Furō replied, shrugging. "But let's see if I regret it before or after I win."

Rota moved first, closing the distance in a single, terrifyingly fast leap. Her claymore came down like a guillotine, carving a trench into the ground as Furō barely sidestepped the blow. The shockwave sent him skidding back, but he quickly righted himself, shifting Onamazu into its whip form.

The whip lashed out, its toxic energy cutting through the air in a blur. Rota deflected the strike with her claymore, the sheer force of the parry sending Furō staggering.

"Fast," he thought, planting his feet to steady himself. "And strong. I can't take too many hits from that sword."

Rota pressed her attack, her claymore a blur of devastating arcs. Each strike felt like a tidal wave of cursed energy, forcing Furō to dodge and parry constantly. He shifted Onamazu into its oar form, using the broad surface to block a crushing overhead strike. The impact reverberated through his arms, nearly driving him to his knees.

"I can't win this by playing defense," Furō thought, gritting his teeth. "Time to switch things up."

He feinted to the side, letting Rota's claymore crash into the ground, then surged forward with Onamazu in its axe form. The blade cleaved into her side, toxic energy sizzling against her armor. Rota staggered, but the wound closed almost instantly, her healing factor working overtime.

"Of course she can heal," Furō muttered, leaping back as she retaliated with a wide, horizontal slash.

The fight dragged on, Rota's relentless offense forcing Furō to stay on the move. His toxic mist filled the battlefield, obscuring her vision and giving him some breathing room. He used the mist to create barriers and solid objects, blocking her attacks and forcing her to reposition. But Rota was adaptable, her claymore carving through the constructs with ease.

"Think, Furō," he told himself, dodging another swing. "You can't just chip away at her forever. You need a plan."

He focused his cursed energy, shaping the mist into spears and launching them at Rota. She deflected them effortlessly, the runes on her armor glowing as they absorbed the impact. But Furō wasn't trying to damage her—he was testing her defenses, looking for a pattern.

Finally, he saw his opening.

As Rota swung to clear a cluster of mist spears, Furō shifted Onamazu into its whip form and lashed it around her wrist. With a sharp tug, he pulled her off balance and surged forward. Summoning his cursed energy, he formed his putrefaction spear—a jagged weapon crackling with explosive energy.

Rota recovered quickly, her claymore lashing out in a desperate arc. Furō ducked under the swing and drove the putrefaction spear into her side. The impact sent a jolt through her body, the cursed energy corroding her armor and flesh. Rota snarled, her healing factor struggling to keep up.

But Furō didn't stop there.

He conjured a second spear, then a third, each one impaling her in rapid succession. Rota screamed in rage, her movements growing sluggish as the corrosive energy took its toll. She swung wildly, but Furō dodged and weaved, keeping just out of reach.

"One more," he thought, summoning his remaining cursed energy. He formed a fourth spear and drove it into her chest, the combined weight of the attacks pinning her to the ground.

Rota struggled, her healing factor fighting to repair the damage, but Furō was already moving. He leaped back, raising his hands as he focused on the spears.

Rota snarled, her armor cracking under the relentless assault of Furōkawa's putrefaction spears. Four jagged weapons of cursed energy jutted out from her body, pinning her to the ground like a shattered marionette. Her golden hair, now matted with blood and sweat, framed eyes that still burned with defiance. Even as her healing factor fought desperately to mend her wounds, Furōkawa could see the toll his attacks were taking. She wasn't invincible—not anymore.

"You're finished," he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. His toxic mist coiled around him, eager, waiting for his command. Yet Rota still struggled, her fingers twitching toward the hilt of her claymore.

"You think this will stop me?" she spat, her voice ragged but unyielding. "I will heal. I will rise again. You cannot win, mortal."

Furō tilted his head, a wry grin tugging at his lips. "Yeah? Well, let's test that theory, shall we?"

He raised his hands, summoning every ounce of cursed energy he could muster. The mist around him thickened, swirling violently as it reacted to his intent. The spears embedded in Rota began to glow faintly, the cursed energy within them building to a dangerous crescendo.

But Furōkawa wasn't done yet.

Closing his eyes, he began to chant, his voice low and steady as he pressed his hands together in the Harmony Buddhist Mudra, the gesture amplifying the focus and intent of his technique.

"Spirit Spring."

The mist surged upward, enveloping the battlefield in a suffocating, toxic cloud. The energy within the spears pulsed in response, resonating with the raw power of the cursed mist.

"Lost Alioth."

The glow intensified, the spears trembling as if alive. Rota's struggles grew frantic, her healing factor straining to keep up with the corrosive energy eating away at her body.

"Shinsu."

The final incantation unleashed a surge of cursed energy through the spears, amplifying their destructive power to its absolute limit.

As Furōkawa finished the chant, his hands remained steady in the Harmony Mudra, the gesture channeling his cursed energy directly into the spears. His eyes opened, his gaze locked on Rota.

"This is where it ends," he said firmly.

With a decisive motion, Furō released the energy.

The spears detonated simultaneously, unleashing a massive explosion that obliterated everything within its radius. The toxic energy erupted outward in a blinding flash, the shockwave tearing through the forest and flattening trees for hundreds of meters. The ground shook violently, the impact leaving a massive crater where Rota had been pinned.

Furō was thrown back by the force of the blast, landing hard against the scorched earth. His ears rang, and his vision blurred, but he forced himself to sit up, his breathing ragged. The mist around him began to settle, the acrid scent of cursed energy lingering in the air.

When the dust cleared, there was no sign of Rota. Her armor, her claymore, even her body—everything had been reduced to nothing. All that remained was a small, golden object glinting faintly in the center of the crater.

Furōkawa staggered to his feet, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. He stumbled toward the object, his fingers trembling as he reached down to pick it up.

It was a golden nose ring, simple in design but radiating immense power. As soon as his fingers closed around it, he felt a surge of energy flood through him, sharp and invigorating. The nose ring fused to him instantly, bonding to his soul as the bracelets of Hrist and Mist had before. He felt lighter, his control over cursed energy sharper, more efficient.

"Well, that's handy," he muttered, flexing his fingers experimentally. He could already feel the difference—it took significantly less energy to summon and manipulate the toxic mist around him.

A faint noise reached his ears—footsteps, voices calling out in the distance. Furō turned, squinting through the haze, and saw a group of sorcerers rushing toward him. Leading them was Emilia, her long hair trailing behind her as she sprinted toward the crater.

"Furōkawa!" she called, relief and irritation mixed in her voice. "What in the hell was that explosion?"

He waved weakly, his grin faint but intact. "A little overkill, maybe. But hey, it got the job done."

Emilia reached him first, her sharp eyes scanning him for injuries. Behind her, the other sorcerers fanned out, checking the perimeter for lingering threats. "You look like hell," she said flatly.

"Gee, thanks," Furō replied, brushing the dirt off his jacket. "Nice to see you too."

Emilia's gaze flicked to the golden nose ring now gleaming on his face. Her expression darkened. "Another artifact?" she asked. "What does it do?"

"Not sure yet," Furō admitted, flexing his fingers again. "But I can already tell it makes me better at controlling cursed energy. Think of it as an efficiency upgrade."

"You're reckless," Emilia said, her voice laced with both frustration and exasperation. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this. Rota wasn't just another target—she was the sixth Valkyrie you've exorcised. You're strong, but you're not invincible, Furōkawa."

Furō leaned against a broken tree, brushing the dirt off his jacket as he smirked at her. "You're starting to sound like my parole officer. Relax. I've got this."

Emilia's eyes narrowed. "I'm serious. There are still three left. They'll be stronger, smarter, and more dangerous than anything you've faced so far."

"Yeah," Furō said, flexing his fingers and feeling the sharper control over his cursed energy. The golden nose ring hummed faintly, its power syncing with the bracelets on his wrists. "But I'm getting stronger too. Every fight's just another training arc for me."

Emilia shook her head, clearly unimpressed. "That overconfidence is going to get you killed one of these days."

"Maybe," Furō replied with a shrug, "but it hasn't yet. So until that day comes, I'll keep knocking these Valkyries down, one by one."

Behind Emilia, the team of Danish sorcerers began securing the area, checking for lingering traces of cursed energy. One of them, a younger woman with dark braids, approached cautiously. "The crater is clear," she reported in Danish, glancing nervously at Furōkawa. "No sign of residual activity."

Emilia nodded, then turned back to Furō. "Fine. You've survived again, and you've gained another artifact. But you're not doing this alone next time. We're sticking with you for the next fight, whether you like it or not."

Furō raised an eyebrow, an amused grin spreading across his face. "A little team bonding, huh? Sounds fun. I'll bring the snacks."

"This isn't a joke, Furōkawa," Emilia snapped. "The next Valkyrie could attack anywhere, at any time. If you don't stop treating this like some kind of game—"

Furō held up a hand, cutting her off. His expression softened slightly, though the teasing glint in his eyes never completely disappeared. "Look, I get it. You're worried. But I've been doing this solo for a while now, and I'm still here. So maybe trust me a little, yeah?"

Emilia didn't respond immediately, her jaw tightening as she considered his words. Finally, she sighed. "Fine. But the moment you're outmatched, you call for backup. Promise me that."

"Sure," Furō said, pushing off the tree and stretching his arms above his head. "If I need backup, you'll be the first to know. Scout's honor."

Emilia didn't look entirely convinced, but she let it drop. "We're moving out in ten minutes. Rest while you can."

As the sorcerers busied themselves with preparations, Furō wandered to the edge of the crater, staring down at the destruction he'd caused. The ground was scorched black, the surrounding trees reduced to jagged stumps. Even with his improved control over cursed energy, the sheer scale of the explosion had taken a massive toll on him.

"Six down," he muttered to himself, his gaze hardening. "Three more to go."

The remaining Valkyries would be stronger—there was no question about that. Each one he'd faced so far had pushed him to his limits, forcing him to adapt and grow stronger. Rota had been the toughest yet, her regeneration and sheer physical power nearly overwhelming him.

But he wasn't the same sorcerer who'd started this fight. The helix of Gondul, the bracelets of Hrist and Mist, the nose ring of Rota—they weren't just artifacts. They were tools, extensions of his power. With each one he acquired, he could feel himself evolving, becoming something greater.

He clenched his fists, feeling the toxic mist swirl around him in response. It moved with precision now, sharper and more obedient than ever before. The nose ring's effect was already noticeable—his attacks required less energy, his constructs forming faster and more efficiently.

The sorcerers gathered near the edge of the forest, their supplies packed and ready for the journey back to their base. Emilia stood at the front of the group, her expression unreadable as she waited for Furō to join them.

He approached limping, slinging Onamazu over his shoulder. "All right, team. Lead the way."

Emilia shot him a warning look but said nothing, turning to lead the group into the woods. As they walked, Furō fell into step beside her, the toxic mist trailing lazily behind him like an obedient shadow.

"So," he said after a moment, his tone light. "What's the plan for the next Valkyrie? Think she'll come to us, or do we have to crash her place like we did with Rota?"

"We'll figure that out when the time comes," Emilia replied curtly. "For now, focus on recovering. You're no good to anyone if you're half-dead when the next fight starts."

"Aw, you care," Furō teased, flashing her a grin. "I'm touched."

"Don't push it, Furōkawa."

He chuckled, falling silent as they continued through the forest. Despite his easygoing demeanor, his mind was already racing, planning his next move. The next Valkyrie wouldn't be easy, but Furōkawa had no intention of backing down.

Nine Valkyries. Six defeated. Three to go.

And with each step, Furōkawa could feel the weight of his journey pressing on him—but also the thrill of the fight ahead.

"Let's see what you've got," he muttered under his breath.