Chapter 97: The Shibuya Deadlock
Tokyo Jujutsu High, basement level.
What had once been a holding area for dangerous cursed spirits had now become something else entirely.
A war room.
Under the dim lights, the air was so heavy it felt almost liquid. No one spoke carelessly. No one even breathed too loudly. Everyone gathered here understood the same thing.
What they were about to discuss could overturn the entire Jujutsu world.
And if they miscalculated even once, they would all die in Shibuya.
"Is everyone here?"
Yami sat at the center of the room, one hand resting lightly on the pitch black blade of Shiranui.
His voice was calm, but it carried cleanly through the underground chamber.
Satoru Gojo.
Kento Nanami.
Mei Mei.
Utahime Iori.
Shoko Ieiri.
Kokichi Muta, wrapped in bandages and seated in a wheelchair, his face still pale but his eyes painfully awake.
Even the three Death Painting brothers were present, gathered quietly in the corner with an awkward stiffness that made them look more like guilty house guests than former cursed wombs.
This meeting was not just a strategy session.
It was a wager.
A desperate one.
"Since everyone's here," Yami said, "let's begin."
He turned to Kokichi and gave a slight nod.
"Tell us everything."
Kokichi drew in a slow breath, then tapped a few keys on the device fixed to his armrest.
A holographic projection instantly lit the room.
The footage was shaky, grainy, and taken from the perspective of one of his miniature mechanical mosquitoes. But it was clear enough.
Three special grade cursed spirits stood atop a high rise in Shibuya.
Jogo.
Hanami.
Mahito.
Even through the projection, the cursed energy radiating from them was enough to make the room feel colder.
They stood facing someone hidden deeper in the building's shadows. The mosquito had failed to capture the figure's face, but it had caught the voice.
A calm voice.
A disgusting voice.
"October 31."
"Halloween."
"Location, Shibuya."
"Target…"
There was a pause.
Then the words dropped like a hammer.
"Seal Satoru Gojo."
The room erupted.
"What?"
Utahime was the first to shoot to her feet, her face openly incredulous.
"Seal Gojo? Have they gone insane?"
Mei Mei swirled the wine in her glass and let out a dry laugh.
"Now that's ambitious."
She tilted her head, amused, though her eyes had already sharpened.
"As much as I'd pay to watch Gojo get humbled, even I have to admit reality exists. As long as he's standing, the sky over the Jujutsu world isn't falling."
Every gaze in the room shifted.
Gojo sat there with one leg crossed over the other, finishing the last bite of a kikufuku as if this had nothing to do with him.
The strongest sorcerer of the modern era.
The nightmare of all curses.
"Hey, what's with those looks?" Gojo said around the last of the dessert. He pulled off his sunglasses, revealing the Six Eyes beneath, blue and vast and unnervingly cold.
"You want to seal me?"
A smile spread across his face.
"Interesting."
Then it widened.
"No, actually, that's hilarious."
The arrogance in his voice would have sounded ridiculous on anyone else. On him, it sounded like a statement of fact.
"Let them try."
His fingers tapped once against the table.
"I'll grind every last one of them into dust."
"Don't get careless, Gojo."
Nanami spoke without raising his voice, but the weight behind it cut through the room.
He adjusted his glasses, expression grave.
"If they've gone as far as building a plan around you, then they must have prepared something they believe can actually threaten you."
Kokichi swallowed.
"I don't know exactly what it is," he admitted. "My mechanical mosquitoes couldn't get too close. But I'm certain of one thing."
His voice tightened.
"They have a core trump card."
He looked straight at Gojo.
"And if they use it under the right conditions…"
His hands clenched on the armrests.
"Even you might not get out."
The room fell silent.
A trump card capable of sealing Gojo Satoru.
It sounded absurd.
But Kokichi was not the type to joke, not with a face like that.
Gojo leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
"Seal me, huh."
The smile on his face faded, though only slightly. Something sharper surfaced underneath it.
Yami's eyes flickered.
He knew exactly what that trump card was.
The Prison Realm.
A special grade cursed object created from the remains of the monk Genshin. Absolute sealing. Once its conditions were met, even Gojo could be trapped.
He opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
An alarm burst across his mind.
[Warning. Warning.]
[Key plot node detected.]
[Specific disclosure regarding the "Prison Realm" to original characters is prohibited.]
[Violation will trigger uncontrollable spacetime collapse.]
Yami's expression changed for only a fraction of a second.
His throat tightened as if invisible fingers had closed around it.
"What is it?"
Gojo glanced over, immediately catching the shift.
Yami lowered his eyes for a beat, then forced the warning down.
"…Nothing."
He stood.
"Whatever their trump card is, if they intend to seal Gojo sensei, then it must have strict activation conditions."
He moved to the holographic projection, one finger tracing across the glowing map of Shibuya.
"It won't be something they can use casually in open combat."
He tapped the map once.
"It'll require a battlefield specifically prepared for him."
"Meaning?" Nanami asked.
Yami's gaze sharpened.
"Tens of thousands of civilians."
Several people frowned at once.
Yami continued.
"They'll turn the battlefield itself into a cage. Layered curtains. Restrictions stacked on top of restrictions."
His finger began marking separate zones.
"The first layer will trap ordinary people inside and prevent them from leaving."
"The second will let sorcerers enter but not leave."
He tapped the center of Shibuya Station.
"And the innermost layer…"
His voice cooled.
"Will be built specifically for Gojo sensei."
The basement seemed to grow even quieter.
Yami spoke each step as if he were already watching it happen.
"They'll trap huge numbers of civilians in the subway station. They'll use them as shields."
"They'll bet that Gojo sensei won't use Unlimited Void carelessly in that environment."
"They'll bet that in order to protect those people, he'll have no choice but to hold back."
"And while he's restricted…"
His finger pressed harder against the projection.
"They'll drown him."
"Special grade cursed spirits. Human wave tactics. Constant interference. Deliberate chaos."
He looked up.
"They'll try to wear him down until their trump card can be used."
By the time he finished, several people in the room felt a chill crawl down their backs.
It was vicious.
Not powerful.
Not grand.
Just vicious.
A plan built entirely around exploiting the humanity of the strongest man alive.
Gojo whistled softly.
"That really does sound like the kind of rotten scheme they'd love."
Mei Mei tilted her glass.
"If we know that much already, why not simply kill them before October 31?"
"No."
Yami shook his head.
"If we move first, he'll disappear."
Everyone knew who he meant.
Kenjaku.
"That thing has been alive too long. Hiding is what he does best. If he slips away once, the next chance to catch him may not come for decades."
Then Yami's eyes hardened.
"So we don't stop the play."
The room stilled.
"We let it happen."
Utahime frowned. "What?"
"We cooperate," Yami said, "at least on the surface."
He turned back to the map.
"October 31. Gojo sensei enters Shibuya exactly as they expect."
Gojo's grin slowly returned.
Yami's finger circled the surrounding districts.
"They believe they're building a trap."
He drew a second ring around it.
"But while they commit all their forces to the center…"
He looked at the people gathered around him.
"We set one of our own outside."
Kokichi stared at him.
"You mean…"
"Yes."
Yami's voice was steady.
"We let them think their plan is succeeding."
"We wait until they commit all their pieces. Until their confidence peaks. Until every hidden snake reveals its head."
Then his lips curved.
"Then we close the lid."
A trap within a trap.
A hunt disguised as a disaster.
But Kokichi still looked uneasy.
"What if Gojo sensei really is sealed?"
He said it quietly, but everyone heard him.
"That risk is too big."
"There are no what ifs."
Yami interrupted him before the fear could spread any further.
He turned and looked directly at Gojo.
Their eyes met in midair.
There were no theatrics in that moment. No smiling. No mockery.
Only trust.
Absolute and absurd.
Because both of them were monsters, and both knew exactly what the other could do.
"As long as I'm there," Yami said, "no one seals Gojo sensei."
His hand fell to Shiranui.
The room's mood changed at once.
He did not release cursed energy.
He had none to release.
But the force of his will alone was enough to make the air tighten.
A presence like a rising sun spread from him, burning away hesitation.
"As long as this sword is in my hand…"
His voice was quiet.
"I don't care what kind of cursed object it is."
His fingers tightened around the hilt.
"I'll cut it open for him to see."
For a second, no one spoke.
Then Gojo stood up laughing.
"Good."
He clapped once, loud enough to make Utahime flinch.
"Then that settles it."
His grin was sharp now.
"October 31."
"Shibuya."
He slipped his sunglasses back on.
"Let's give those cursed spirits and those rotten old fossils…"
He spread his arms as if presenting a stage.
"…the grandest funeral they've ever seen."
The meeting broke not long after that.
One by one, everyone left to prepare.
Nanami to calculations and deployment.
Mei Mei to her own invisible network of information and money.
Utahime to coordination.
Shoko to medical contingency planning.
Kokichi to everything only Kokichi could handle.
Even the Death Painting brothers slipped out quietly, subdued by the atmosphere in the room and the scale of what was coming.
Eventually, only Yami remained in the basement.
The holographic map was still glowing faintly in the dark.
Shibuya Station pulsed red at its center like a wound.
Yami stared at it in silence.
Then the system panel flared in front of his eyes.
A red warning mark blinked again and again.
[Warning. Unforeseeable variables detected.]
[Mission difficulty reassessed: Extremely High.]
[Prepare for death, Host.]
Yami let out a slow breath.
"Unforeseeable variables…"
He knew what that meant.
The original timeline had already been torn apart by his interference. Far too many people had lived. Far too many events had shifted. Shibuya would not unfold the way it was supposed to.
Which meant what waited there might be even worse.
Something outside prediction.
Something outside his control.
His hand slowly closed into a fist.
"No matter what shows up…"
He drew Shiranui just enough for the blade to glint in the basement light.
Clang.
The cold line of steel reflected in his eyes.
"If it stands in my way…"
He slid the blade back in with deliberate care.
"I'll cut it down all the same."
.....
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