CHAPTER 8: JUTE BAG

The crowded sidewalks blurred around them as Gojo dashed across the city with Riko Amanai slung over his shoulder, her arms flailing like a windmill of fury.

"Put me down right now!!" Riko yelled, voice half-anger, half-humiliation.

"Sorry, this delivery's urgent!" Gojo grinned, adjusting his grip as if she were a package and not a person. "Fragile contents. Handle with maximum swag."

"This isn't swag, you idiot!"

As they cut through an alley behind a convenience store, Gojo suddenly stopped. His body stiffened. His eyes narrowed beneath his sunglasses.

"…Tch. Figures."

"What now?" Riko asked from over his shoulder.

Without answering, Gojo slowly turned.

Dozens of glowing red eyes pierced through the shadows.

A horde of shikigami had surrounded the alley — twisted, snarling, malformed creatures made of ink-black skin and pulsing cursed energy. Their clawed limbs scraped the concrete, their jaws snapping open in hunger.

Gojo grinned. "Well, this got interesting."

A particularly large one leapt straight at him.

Riko screamed. "DO SOMETHING!!"

Gojo leaned his head back, laughing. "Relax, little jute bag."

BOOM!

In a blur of motion, Gojo kicked off the ground, shot into the air, and extended his hand. "Let's show these knock-off Pokémon a magic trick."

The air distorted. The cursed energy around his body twisted unnaturally.

"Cursed Technique: Lapse — RED."

A bright red sphere ignited in his palm — pure destructive force condensed into a single core of chaos. He launched it forward, and the moment it made contact—

BOOOOOOM!

A tidal wave of crimson energy vaporized the entire swarm of shikigami. The blast painted the sky in a flash of red light, sending shockwaves through the buildings and rattling the windows.

When the smoke cleared, Gojo hovered midair, still carrying Riko, who clung to his jacket with wide, trembling eyes.

The alley was scorched clean. Nothing remained of the shikigami.

Gojo landed effortlessly.

He put down Riko for a second, brushed his hair back in a slow, dramatic motion, and struck a heroic pose with two fingers raised like a peace sign.

"Your savior has arrived. I accept thank-you hugs, snacks, and praise in song form."

Riko just stared at him. "You're the worst."

He clicked his tongue. "No appreciation for art these days."

Then, before she could argue, he threw her back over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Alright, let's go, my lovely little jute bag. Next stop, your secret safehouse!"

"I SWEAR TO EVERYTHING, I'LL BITE YOUR SHOULDER!!"

"Make sure it's the left one, I bruise easier on the right!"

And with that, Satoru Gojo — the strongest sorcerer in the world — bolted off once again through the city, carrying a screaming, red-faced Amanai like a noble idiot carrying a prize melon.

From the rooftops above, unseen eyes tracked his every move.

The real game was only just beginning.