Chapter 125: Locking Eyes with the Sorcerer Killer From Afar
Tokyo, underground black market.
The bar was the kind of place that existed in the blind spots of the city.
Cheap tobacco hung thick in the air. Low-grade alcohol stained the wooden tables. The lights were dim enough to hide faces, but not dim enough to hide intent. Men with too many scars and too few questions sat in corners, drinking in silence while deals worth more than their lives were made a few steps away.
In the farthest booth, Kong Shiyu slid a check across the table.
"This is the deposit from the Star Plasma Cult. Thirty million yen."
Beside the check were several photographs.
"The target is the Star Plasma Vessel, Riko Amanai. The deadline is before her assimilation with Tengen."
Kong took a slow drag from his cigarette and exhaled.
"I should warn you, though. Her escorts are troublesome this time."
The man across from him did not immediately reach for the check.
He wore a tight black shirt that showed off a body carved like stone. His posture was loose, almost lazy, but there was nothing relaxed about him. The scar at the corner of his mouth gave his smile a predatory edge, and his eyes carried the empty calm of a beast that had already decided how everything in front of it would die.
The Sorcerer Killer.
Toji Fushiguro.
"The Star Plasma Vessel is being protected by Tokyo Jujutsu High's strongest trump cards," Kong continued. "Satoru Gojo of the Gojo Family and Suguru Geto, the user of Cursed Spirit Manipulation."
Toji picked up the photos like he was sorting through scrap paper.
"The Six Eyes brat," he said. "And the curse collector."
His tone held no fear.
The two names that made most curse users think twice were, to him, only details in a job. Troublesome details, maybe, but nothing more.
He flipped through the photos one by one.
Riko Amanai.
Satoru Gojo.
Suguru Geto.
Then his finger stopped.
The last photograph was slightly blurry. It had clearly been taken from a poor angle and at a distance.
In it, a black-haired young man in a Jujutsu High uniform held an ordinary tachi. The blade was mid-swing, cutting through a massive Cursed Spirit barrier in a single clean stroke.
The picture had captured only a frozen instant.
Yet Toji's eyes narrowed.
There was no Cursed Energy residue.
None.
What the photo showed was not a technique, not a curse, not a trick born from jujutsu.
It was pure physical force.
A body, a breath, a blade, and a movement so clean that even a still image carried the sense of something lethal being drawn across the world.
"Who's this?"
Toji pulled the photo out from the rest and flicked it with one finger.
Kong glanced at it.
"Oh, him. Yami. Tokyo Jujutsu High's newly recruited external combat instructor."
"External combat instructor?"
"Apparently, he has no Cursed Energy. Not a drop. But his physical combat ability is absurd. A few days ago, he killed a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit in Shizuoka with one strike."
"No Cursed Energy?"
Toji's smile slowly widened.
This time, there was interest in it.
Not amusement. Not mockery.
Interest.
The kind a starving wolf showed when it caught the scent of something worth hunting.
"So there's another one," Toji murmured.
He folded the photo and slipped it into his pocket. Then he took the check from the table.
"I'll take the job."
Kong watched him carefully.
"Toji."
"What?"
"Don't underestimate them."
Toji stood, rolling his shoulders once.
"Relax. I'm not that generous."
He turned and walked toward the exit, his footsteps silent beneath the bar's stale music.
"This mission might actually be fun."
A few days later.
Tokyo Jujutsu High's outdoor training ground was bright under the afternoon sun.
Suguru Geto was soaked in sweat.
He wore loose training clothes, his hair tied back, his breathing heavier than usual. Ever since Yami had shattered the Rainbow Dragon's defense with nothing but the back of an unsharpened blade, Suguru had thrown away the small arrogance he had left and begun training his body like he was trying to make up for years in a week.
He had always known taijutsu mattered.
He had simply never felt how badly he needed it until Yami showed him.
"Too slow, Suguru."
Yami stood across from him, dressed casually, a thin tree branch held in one hand.
Compared to Suguru's exhaustion, Yami looked as though he had merely gone out for a walk.
"Your movements still hesitate before impact."
Suguru stepped in and threw a punch.
Yami shifted half a step.
The branch tapped Suguru's elbow.
The force in his arm scattered.
Suguru clicked his tongue and changed angles, sweeping low. Yami's branch touched his knee before the kick could fully unfold.
His balance broke.
Suguru stumbled back.
Again.
The branch moved lightly, almost lazily, but every tap landed on a joint, tendon, or muscle at the exact moment Suguru needed it most. It did not hurt much. That made it worse.
Yami was not overpowering him.
He was dismantling him.
"Damn it," Suguru muttered. "Again."
He rushed forward.
Yami raised the branch, about to point out another flaw in his lower stance.
Then he stopped.
The branch froze in midair, just short of Suguru's shoulder.
Suguru halted.
"Instructor Yami?"
Yami did not answer.
He raised his head slightly.
The gentleness in his red eyes disappeared, replaced by something deep and razor-sharp.
A faint golden light bloomed in his pupils.
Transparent World, fully activated.
His vision pushed past the training ground.
Past the trees.
Past the buildings.
Past the outer barrier of Jujutsu High.
Layer after layer peeled away in his sight until distance became meaningless.
Several kilometers away, on the rooftop of an unfinished high-rise at the edge of Tokyo, Toji Fushiguro leaned against a concrete parapet with a military-grade telescope in his hand.
"Let's see what the brats are doing…"
Through the lens, his gaze moved across Jujutsu High.
Gojo.
Geto.
Then the black-haired instructor.
"Oh?" Toji's mouth curved slightly. "Training the curse collector in close combat?"
His smile lasted less than a second.
Inside the telescope's field of view, Yami stopped moving.
Then he turned his head.
No hesitation. No searching.
Those golden-lit eyes looked straight through the lens.
Straight at him.
Their gazes collided across the distance.
Toji's heart clenched.
For the first time in years, something cold slid up his spine.
He had once gone to observe Satoru Gojo when the Six Eyes user was still a child. Back then, the brat had noticed him too. That had been irritating. Unpleasant. Like being seen by a mirror that stripped away concealment.
This was different.
This was not being seen.
This was being targeted.
For a single breath, Toji felt as though he were staring at an unsheathed blade. Not a person. Not a sorcerer. Not another Heavenly Restriction.
A blade.
Silent, restrained, and ready to cut through him from skull to soul.
Bang.
Toji slammed the telescope down and stepped back behind the parapet.
His breathing had changed.
Only slightly, but enough for him to notice.
He looked at his hand.
It was trembling.
Just a little.
"Are you kidding me?"
Toji lowered his head, staring at his own fingers with a sharp, disbelieving smile.
"He saw me from this distance?"
There had been no Cursed Energy.
No technique.
No barrier fluctuation.
Nothing for him to read, nothing for him to predict.
And yet that pressure had crossed several kilometers as cleanly as a knife pressed against his throat.
"What the hell is that guy?"
Toji pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag.
Smoke filled his lungs.
His heartbeat slowly settled.
When he raised his head again, his eyes had changed.
The shock was still there, but beneath it was something more dangerous.
Hunger.
"So he's the real variable."
The Six Eyes brat was troublesome. Cursed Spirit Manipulation was annoying. But Yami was different.
Yami stood in the same territory Toji did.
A monster who should not exist in the logic of jujutsu.
No Cursed Energy.
A body trained past common sense.
A killing intent sharp enough to make even the Sorcerer Killer's instincts scream.
Toji exhaled a cloud of smoke and laughed under his breath.
"Now this is interesting."
The strongest assassin.
The strongest swordsman.
In this hunt, who was the hunter?
And who was the prey?
Back at Jujutsu High, Yami slowly withdrew his gaze.
The golden light in his eyes faded.
Suguru followed his line of sight toward the distant skyline, but all he saw were clouds, trees, and the edge of the school barrier.
"What happened?" Suguru asked.
Yami lowered the branch in his hand.
"Nothing important."
His voice was calm, but the faint smile at the corner of his mouth carried a dangerous edge.
"Just a rat hiding in the dark."
"A rat?"
"One with sharp teeth."
Suguru's expression tightened.
Yami turned back to him.
"But since it has shown its tail…"
His fingers closed around the branch.
Crack.
The wood snapped under his grip.
"…the show is about to begin."
Toji Fushiguro.
You finally showed up.
This time, I'll cut down every tragedy you bring with you.
.....
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