Riko Amanai

"The Star Religious Group is an organization of non-sorcerers," Geto said, riding the elevator up while talking to Gojo on the phone. "I don't think we need to pay them any mind... The ones to be wary of are Q."

On the other end of the line, Gojo responded casually, "Well, I'm sure it'll be fine. We are the strongest, after all."

"That's why Tengen-sama asked for us specifically, right?"

Geto sighed heavily.

"What is it?" Gojo asked, hearing the sigh.

"You know, Satoru..." Geto's voice turned serious. "I've been wanting to say this for a while - stop being so full of yourself."

"HUH?" Gojo crushed the soda can in his hand.

"Especially when you're addressing your superior," Geto continued. "We might end up meeting Tengen-sama, after all. You should be more polite and humble."

"SCREW THAT! Say that to Naoya too!" Gojo shot back.

Geto snorted. "Nah, no way. Naoya's a completely lost cause. He can't be fixed."

"Whatever," Geto muttered as he rang the hotel room bell—only for a bomb to explode.

Through the smoke and debris, Gojo's voice crackled from the phone still clutched in Geto's hand: "You alive?"

Geto brushed concrete dust from his shoulder, his cursed spirit having taken the brunt of the blast. "I'm fine."

"You think we'll be blamed if the brat died from that?" Gojo asked casually, watching the small figure plummet from the shattered hotel window.

From his perch on a nearby bench, Naoya didn't even look up from his magazine. "Geto will fix it," he said, turning a page with deliberate disinterest.

As if on cue, Geto's arm shot out—cursed energy shattered the remaining windows in a crystalline explosion. A stingray-like curse burst forth, its winged form slicing through falling debris to catch the girl mid-plummet.

Drifting effortlessly in the air, Geto smirked down at the wide-eyed curse user still clutching the detonator. "Don't try to make us stand out," he chided, adjusting his sleeve with deliberate calm. "We just got scolded, you know."

"I know that uniform," the man in the white Q organization outfit spat from the wreckage. "You're kids from Jujutsu High?"

Across the street, a sudden barrage of knives tore through the air toward Gojo and Naoya. Gojo didn't even blink—the blades froze mid-air, suspended by Infinity just inches from their targets. Naoya finally lowered his magazine with an exaggerated sigh.

Before the Q member could utter another word, Naoya blurred into motion. In an instant, he was behind the man, one hand gripping his face as he slammed it violently into the metal fence with a sickening crunch. The assailant crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"That's boring, Naoya," Gojo whined, kicking at the limp body with his shoe. "I wanted to have fun with him first."

Naoya wiped his hands on his uniform with distaste. "That sounds so gay."

Gojo gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "You homophobic piece of—"

"Save it," Naoya interrupted, already walking away.

…

High above in a corporate skyscraper's glass-walled conference room, a suited man exhaled cigarette smoke as he watched the chaos unfold through floor-to-ceiling windows. No binoculars needed - the hotel was just across the street.

"It's started," he murmured, ash tumbling into a crystal ashtray.

Beside him, Toji Fushiguro leaned against the window frame, his reflection superimposed over the distant figures of Geto's flying curse and Gojo's distinctive white hair.

"The Star Religious Group doesn't have the power to fight against jujutsu sorcerers," the man continued, straightening his tie in the window's reflection. "But they can pay very well, I guarantee that..." He turned slightly. "How about it, Zen'in?"

Below, Naoya's silhouette could be seen slamming a Q member into a broken lobby fountain.

"Want to get in on assassinating the Star Plasma Vessel?" the man asked again, swirling his whiskey glass.

Toji's teeth gleamed in the twilight as he smirked. "I'm not Zen'in anymore." He pressed a palm against the cool glass. " I Took my wife's name - it's Fushiguro now."

Ice cubes clinked as the man took a sip.

"But sure"

 "Count me in."

…

The group reconvened in a lavish hotel suite.

Gojo adjusted his grip on the unconscious Amanai. "Should we get her to a doctor?"

Geto wiped sweat from his brow. "I wish I could use Reverse Cursed Technique like Shoko," he sighed.

"I don't understand a single word from what she says," Gojo grumbled, staring at the mumbling girl in his arms.

Just then, Amanai's eyes snapped open. She took in her surroundings in a panic before zeroing in on Gojo's face hovering above her.

"Oh, you're awake-" Gojo began.

"AURAAAAAAA!" Without hesitation, she slapped him hard enough to make his head snap sideways, then wriggled free and dropped into a ridiculous fighting stance - one foot forward, arms windmilling wildly.

"You scum! If you want to kill me, you'll be the one to die first!"

Geto placed a gentle hand on Gojo's shoulder as the white-haired sorcerer rubbed his stinging cheek. "Riko-chan, calm down... We're not with the group that attacked you."

"LIAR! You have the face of a liar!" She pointed accusingly at Geto. "Your bangs are weird too!"

The glossy magazine page turned with deliberate slowness in the chandelier light as Naoya bored voice cut through the suite. "You're too loud. Can you shut the fuck up, woman?"

Riko's entire body tensed like a coiled spring. She stomped forward, her sneakers squeaking against marble until she could jab a finger into his chest. "AND YOU—you exactly look like a villain who likes to hurt women!" Her nose wrinkled. "And you smell like expensive jerk!"

The magazine crumpled slightly in his grip. A smirk crept across his face as he finally looked up through half-lidded eyes. "Expensive jerk, huh? Then what does that make you? The dollar store special?" He snapped the magazine shut. "Since you're so obsessed with villains—"

His hand moved in a blur, snatching the white headband from her hair before she could blink.

"HEY! DON'T TOUCH THAT!"

From the couch, the white-haired idiot sat up with interest. "Oho? What's this? A sacred artifact?"

The headband—slightly crooked now—was held up for inspection. "Let me guess... you think this makes you look like some shoujo manga heroine?"

Her face burned as she lunged, only to trip over the coffee table when he leaned aside. The headband went sailing to the long-haired one, who caught it between two fingers like it was contaminated.

"It's... sticky," he observed with distaste.

"IT'S FROM SWEAT, YOU JERKS! GIVE IT BACK!"

Gojo clutched his stomach laughing. "Oh my god—she admits it! That's disgusting!"

A Motorola Razr suddenly appeared from her pocket as she tried to hide it. Too late.

"Is that... a RAZR?" Naoya eyes lit up with malicious delight. "With... is that a Hello Kitty charm?"

"IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!"

He plucked it from her hands. "Let's see... text messages..." His smirk widened. "'To: kuroi - These weirdos kidnapped me but they're kinda hot?' Really?"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT IT SAYS!"

He flipped it open dramatically. "And your wallpaper is... oh. My. God." He turned the screen to show the others. "Is that a selfie with... are those bunny ears?"

Geto sighed deeply. "I'm beginning to understand why Tengen-sama wanted her dead."

A scream of pure rage filled the room as all three of them howled with laughter—one rolling on the floor, one massaging his temples, and the smirking bastard scrolling through her embarrassing teenaged texts like they were the best entertainment he'd had in years.