The rubble groaned. A massive chunk of concrete glowed orange, then blew apart into a cloud of fine dust. Jogo crawled out of the crater. The volcano curse's single eye twitched, red and wild. His teeth ground together so hard they sparked.
Maki stayed put. Her fingers dug into the wooden shaft of her polearm. The jagged burn scars on her left side throbbed—a sharp reminder of the last time she faced him.
She knew a single kick could shatter his bones, but one blast of his fire would turn the whole station to ash. She glanced at the bleeding men slumped against the wall.
"Megumi! Grab Naobito!" Maki shouted, never taking her eyes off the curse. "Nanami, get up! Move back!"
Jogo raised a charred hand. The air around him shimmered and thickened, choking the oxygen from the room. "You miserable little monkeys—!"
Then, Jogo froze.
The suffocating heat vanished. A heavy, icy dread washed over the station, making the hair on Maki's arms stand up. It felt like a massive weight pressing down on their chests. it was a presence. Somewhere deep in Shibuya, a colossal, overwhelmingly evil cursed energy had just flared to life.
Jogo's hand dropped. His eye went wide. "Sukuna..."
He didn't even look back at the sorcerers. He spun around and sprinted down the dark subway tunnel, completely forgetting the fight.
Maki blinked, lowering her weapon slightly. "He just... ran?"
A deafening crash cut her off. The concrete ceiling above the stairwell shattered.
A dark blur blasted down the steps, flying backward like he'd been shot out of a cannon.
Maki let go of her polearm. It clattered to the floor as she widened her stance and bent her knees. She caught the flying body right against her chest. The heavy impact forced her backward, her boots squealing loudly across the tiles until she finally dragged her heels and stopped.
He blinked hard, shaking the dizziness from his head. When his eyes finally focused on the person holding him, his jaw went slack.
"Maki...?" he rasped, his voice barely working. He stared at her like a hallucination.
Maki didn't say a word at first. She just held him there as the concrete dust rained down on them.
Ren stared up at her. His brain was totally short-circuiting, struggling to process that she was actually here.
Then, she grinned. Just a quick, sharp smirk that immediately grounded him.
"You always get your ass kicked this fast when I'm not around to babysit?" Maki asked.
She didn't coddle him. Maki grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him up so he was standing on his own two feet. Without missing a beat, she stepped past him, kicked her naginata up from the floor, and caught it smoothly in one hand.
Above them, the broken rubble crunched. Heavy, bare footsteps were already coming down the ruined stairs.
Maki's smirk dropped. The casual vibe evaporated, replaced instantly by the cold, ruthless focus of a Zen'in. She widened her stance, planting herself directly between Ren and the stairwell.
Behind them, boots scraped desperately against the shattered tile.
Megumi's breath hitched as he hauled Naobito's unconscious weight upward, the old man's remaining arm draped heavily over his shoulder.
Blood dripped from Nanami's chin as he limped sideways, his blunt cleaver raised to guard their blind spot.
"Zen'in-senpai!" Megumi barked over the settling dust.
He plunged his free hand into the shifting, inky pool of his shadow.
The dark liquid warped, yielding to the grip of his fingers as he dragged out a thick, blood-red three-sectioned staff. He hurled it across the platform.
Hearing the heavy metallic rattle cutting through the air, Maki didn't even look back. She let her wooden polearm drop, her empty hand shooting out to snatch the center of Playful Cloud mid-flight.
She whipped her wrist, sending the heavy red sections cracking through the air with a bone-rattling snap. A sharp, feral smile stretched across her face, pulling the jagged burn scars on her cheek tight.
"Thanks, Fushiguro."
Ren rose beside her, his boots grinding into the crushed asphalt to anchor his stance. He swiped the back of his hand across his jaw, smearing a line of copper-tasting blood, but his gaze never left the ruined stairwell.
Through the parting dust, the scarred assassin stepped onto the platform. No hesitation. No breath. Just empty, pitch-black eyes fixed entirely on them.
Ren didn't break his stare on the dead man, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught Maki shifting her weight. The heavy iron links of Playful Cloud clinked sharply against her thigh.
She turned her head just a fraction. Her eyes met his for a split second—a silent, razor-sharp assessment of his condition—before snapping right back to the scarred assassin.
"I don't know who the hell this guy is," Maki muttered, a dark, dangerous thrill bleeding into her voice as she slowly twirled the red staff. "But he looks like he can take a hit."
...
The cold Halloween night air bit into Megumi's lungs as they finally cleared the subway entrance, stumbling onto the cracked pavement of Shibuya's deserted streets.
The deafening booms of Ren and Maki's fight were instantly muffled up here, swallowed by the eerie, oppressive silence pressing down under the black veil.
Megumi dragged his heavy boots to a halt. His muscles burned, screaming in protest as he carefully shifted Naobito's dead weight.
Nanami was already there, sliding his broad shoulder under the old clan head's remaining arm. With a strained grunt, the Grade 1 sorcerer took the brunt of Naobito's weight, freeing Megumi.
Megumi immediately slumped forward, resting his hands on his knees as he gasped for oxygen. Blood dripped steadily from his chin, staining the asphalt. But even through the physical exhaustion, a cold, creeping dread kept his heart hammering against his ribs.
He looked up, his dark eyes scanning the ominous skyline.
"That energy... back in the station," Megumi panted, his voice tight. "You felt it too, right?"