The underground passage beneath Jujutsu High was cold, silent, and shrouded in centuries-old mystery. With each step, the air thickened with residual cursed energy. The stone walls echoed every movement, every breath. Torches lined the corridor, dimly illuminating the path toward the sacred chamber.
Suguru Geto walked calmly, his robes fluttering softly behind him, his eyes sharp but gentle. Just a few paces beside him, Riko Amanai followed. Her steps were slower, uncertain, and her hands trembled.
Before them stood the sacred chamber—at its center, the towering rootlike form of Master Tengen, a living, breathing mass of cursed evolution.
A hush fell over them.
"This is it," Geto said, turning to Amanai. "No one else can make this decision but you."
She remained quiet.
He knelt slightly so they were eye level, his voice quieter now, more personal.
"You've got two choices. Merge with Tengen, stabilize this world… or go home. Walk away. Live your life."
Her eyes widened. No one had ever really offered her a choice before.
Tears pooled in her eyes, her voice barely a whisper.
"I don't really have a home," she said. "My parents died when I was nine. Car crash. I was passed between relatives, none who really wanted me. The only place I ever felt like I mattered was school. When you, and Gojo, and even that scary teacher guy... when you all showed up for me."
She looked up at Geto, voice trembling.
"I don't want to go back. I'd rather stay... with all of you. Laughing. Fighting. Living."
Geto smiled—truly, gently. He extended his hand.
"Then come with us," he said.
Riko reached forward, her fingertips just about to brush his—
BANG!
The sound of a gunshot ripped through the silence like a lightning bolt. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then—
Riko collapsed to her knees.
Blood pooled from her forehead.
Her eyes were wide—blank—lifeless.
Time stopped.
"...Riko?" Geto whispered.
Her body fell forward into his arms. Still. Cold.
A shadow stepped out from the darkened corridor above.
Toji Fushiguro.
Grinning.
Gun still smoking.
"Mission accomplished," he said with a smirk. "Three hundred thousand well-earned yen."
Geto stared in disbelief, his arms cradling Riko's body. Something cracked in his chest—a fracture far deeper than any wound.
"You…" he whispered.
Toji tilted his head. "Don't look so surprised. This was always a job."
His footfalls echoed as he turned to leave. "The rest is up to fate now."
Geto sat there, drenched in blood, heart pounding, everything silent but the sound of Riko's last breath still lingering in the air.
The chamber that once housed hope now reeked of death.
And the curse of fate... grew heavier.