Chapter 136: Negotiation with the Sorcerer Killer Failed
Tokyo.
Underground horse racing track.
The air was thick with cheap tobacco, cheap perfume, and the sour stink of gamblers who had lost more than they could afford.
On the giant screens, horses thundered down the track. The sound of hooves mixed with desperate curses and hysterical cheers, turning the underground space into a warped little purgatory built from greed and bad luck.
"Damn it! What the hell is that horse doing?! Run!"
"It's over… it's all over. My house, my savings…"
In an inconspicuous corner, a large man leaned against a rusted railing.
He wore a simple black fitted T-shirt. His muscles were hard and heavy beneath the fabric, his frame carrying the dangerous stillness of a predator pretending to be bored.
The scar at the corner of his mouth made his already sharp face look even more vicious.
Toji Fushiguro.
The Sorcerer Killer feared by countless Jujutsu Sorcerers looked, at that moment, like a down-and-out gambler with nowhere better to be.
He tore the losing ticket in his hand into thin strips.
"Lost again."
Toji yawned.
There was no anger in his eyes. No frustration. Only a kind of hollow, world-weary indifference, as if even losing money was too boring to care about.
He lived like a man searching for something, anything, strong enough to fill the empty pit inside him.
Then the noisy horse racing track fell silent for a heartbeat.
It was subtle.
Only a moment.
But to Toji, it was enough.
A dangerous presence had entered the room.
No Cursed Energy.
Yet it carried heat.
Not ordinary heat, either. It was the kind that felt capable of burning straight through the soul.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The footsteps stopped behind him.
"Toji Fushiguro."
The voice was gentle, but the killing intent beneath it was cold enough to cut.
Toji turned his head.
A young man with black hair and red eyes stood behind him. At his waist hung a long black sword.
"Oh?"
Toji looked him over, then smiled as if this had all gone exactly as expected.
"The freak with no Cursed Energy. What, did you get tired of playing bodyguard in Okinawa and come all the way to this dump to find me?"
His grin widened.
"Looks like my fatigue tactic doesn't work too well on monsters like you."
Yami looked at the man before him.
The man who had been cast out by the Zenin Clan.
The man who had sold his own talents as a weapon.
The man who had once turned the entire Jujutsu World upside down with a single assassination.
"Let's get to the point," Yami said.
He ignored Toji's provocation. His voice was calm, almost flat.
"Give up the mission to assassinate the Star Plasma Vessel."
Toji's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Whatever the Star Religious Group is paying you," Yami continued, "I'll pay double."
Yami knew Toji was a killer who moved for money.
If this could be solved with money, he did not mind acting like a nouveau riche for once.
Toji stared at him for a second.
Then he rubbed his chin, putting on a thoughtful expression that was so exaggerated it looked almost sincere.
"Double? That'd be sixty million."
He turned around fully, all of his earlier arrogance suddenly replaced by businesslike cooperation.
He even pulled a worn calculator from his pocket and tapped a few buttons with deliberate seriousness.
"Sixty million. Enough to pay off some debts. Enough to fool around for a few years if I'm careful."
He glanced up.
"Sounds like an offer a guy shouldn't refuse."
Then his smile turned playful.
"But how do you prove you actually have that kind of money? You can't expect me to trust the word of a broke-looking guy with no Cursed Energy."
Yami frowned slightly.
"I can pay half as a deposit."
"Half? Thirty million?"
Toji whistled and leaned back against the railing, looking completely relaxed.
"That's not small money. So how do we trade?"
"Transfer or cash."
"Cash only. Transfers are too easy for the Star Religious Group to trace."
Toji began speaking about transaction details.
Money laundering routes. Drop points. Exchange timing. How many people would need to be involved. What kinds of bills were safest.
He dragged it out for more than ten minutes, speaking like a man genuinely weighing the risks of changing employers.
Yami listened.
The longer it went on, the stronger the unease in his chest became.
He was being pulled into Toji's rhythm.
Just as Yami prepared to cut him off and force the terms to a conclusion, Toji tossed the calculator aside.
Then he clutched his stomach and burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha!"
His laughter was rough, wild, and full of mockery.
"What a naive brat. You actually thought I was negotiating?"
Yami's eyes cooled.
"Double? Kid, do you even know what the Star Religious Group is offering me?"
Toji leaned closer, his beastlike eyes flashing with amusement.
"But even if you could really pay double…"
His laughter stopped.
The smile vanished from his face, leaving behind something darker. Something twisted and stubborn enough to rot.
"I'd still refuse."
Yami's expression did not change.
"Why?"
"Because I really don't like that so-called strongest."
Toji took out a cigarette and lit it, the small flame briefly illuminating the scar at his mouth.
"Satoru Gojo. The divine child born with everything."
Smoke curled from his lips.
"I want to see what kind of face he makes when his pride, his Limitless, gets torn apart by my hands."
His eyes were dull, but beneath that dullness was a madness sharpened by years of resentment.
"This is my revenge. A monkey thrown away by the Jujutsu World, dragging those high-and-mighty bastards down from their pedestal."
Yami looked at him.
At that face filled with boredom, madness, and exhaustion.
He understood.
Toji had already thrown himself into the abyss.
This man no longer lived for money alone.
He lived to spit in the face of the world that had discarded him.
Yami took a breath.
"Even if you don't care about yourself…"
He decided to use his final card.
"Don't you care about your son?"
Toji's cigarette paused.
Yami said the name quietly.
"Megumi Fushiguro."
For half a second, Toji's fingers stiffened.
Only half a second.
Then his expression returned to its usual careless cruelty.
"Oh? You looked into me that deeply?"
He exhaled smoke, his eyes colder than before.
"That brat? Sold is sold."
Yami's gaze sharpened.
"Just like how I sold myself to the Zenin Clan back then."
Toji spoke as if he were discussing a worthless object.
"If there's money involved, what does a biological son matter?"
He looked at Yami with open contempt.
"Don't judge me with your hypocritical morals, kid. In this world, only power and money are real."
The negotiation was over.
The last trace of gentleness disappeared from Yami's eyes.
His hand settled on Shiranui's hilt.
If words could not stop Toji, then the only method left was the oldest one.
Violence.
"You want to fight?"
Toji sensed the shift in killing intent at once.
Instead of fear, excitement spread across his face. The terrifying power hidden inside his body began to rise, quiet and volcanic.
"Perfect."
He licked his lips.
"I've wanted to test it anyway."
His shoulders lowered slightly.
"How much can a freak like you, who also has no Cursed Energy, really do?"
The atmosphere tightened.
Then—
Bang!
The entrance to the horse racing track was kicked open.
A group of armed gangsters stormed in, weapons raised.
"Who the hell is causing trouble here?!"
The crowd exploded into chaos.
Screams, gunshots, overturned chairs, and panicked gamblers crashed together in an instant.
Toji moved with the chaos.
Using the panicked crowd as cover, he slipped into the shadows like a ghost.
Yami's eyes narrowed.
"Next time we meet, it'll be your death, freak."
Toji's voice brushed past his ear, soaked in killing intent.
Then, just before his presence vanished completely, another whisper reached Yami.
"By the way, since you like investigating people so much…"
His tone was contemptuous, but there was something buried beneath it.
"Why not go take a look at that home?"
A faint laugh.
"You might find something interesting."
Then Toji was gone.
Yami did not pursue.
In an environment this chaotic, catching the Sorcerer Killer, a man who specialized in concealment and misdirection, would be almost impossible.
More importantly, the appearance of the gangsters did not feel accidental.
It was either a scene Toji had prepared in advance for his escape, or a distraction meant to buy time.
Yami looked toward the darkness where Toji had disappeared.
The negotiation had failed.
Toji had not abandoned the mission. If anything, he seemed even more determined to kill Satoru Gojo and Riko Amanai.
Yami turned to leave.
Then his gaze stopped on the railing Toji had been leaning against.
Hidden in the rusted metal was a strange carved mark.
An inverted cross.
Or perhaps an abstract family crest.
Yami stared at it.
What was this?
Why would Toji leave a mark like this here?
And that final hint.
That home.
Did he mean the Fushiguro home where he had once lived as a son-in-law?
Or Megumi Fushiguro's current residence?
A thought flashed through Yami's mind.
"Could it be…"
His eyes darkened as he replayed Toji's words.
He knew that man was cunning and vicious. A hint from Toji could easily be poison disguised as a lifeline.
But with the negotiation broken, this might be the only clue that allowed him to intercept the Sorcerer Killer before the final strike.
"That place must hold something that can restrain him."
Yami gripped Shiranui's hilt.
Whether it was Toji's hiding place or his true weakness, he had to confirm it before the final battle erupted.
At that moment, Yami had not yet realized that this clue, which looked like a way to break the deadlock, had already been coated in poison.
He took one breath.
Then his figure vanished from the ruined horse racing track, rushing at full speed toward the address in his memory.
.....
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