Jujutsu kaisen: King of Seven Shikigami

Outside the Principal's Office

Twilight at Tokyo Jujutsu High

The wooden door closed slowly behind him, leaving behind a silence unlike before. There was no longer the ticking of the clock or the scent of old timber. Only the outside air greeted him—cold, yet unable to calm the storm boiling in his mind.

Tora stepped out of the main building of Jujutsu High with heavy steps, letting his feet move on their own while his thoughts spiraled back into the conversation that had just taken place.

"Gojo Satoru... even in the original account, he clearly knew exactly what happened 400 years ago..."

The shadow of that statement echoed in his head, not just as a memory—but a warning that would not stop repeating.

"The bloody history between the Six Eyes and the Ten Shadows... who slaughtered each other in the shadows of the Edo era, or perhaps even earlier—during the Keicho period, before the full rise of jujutsu aristocracy."

The head of the Gojo clan at that time, according to records and confirmed by Gege Akutami himself, wasn't just a Six Eyes user. He was the absolute master of Limitless—the controller of space, force, and possibility. And yet, even that divine power failed to prevent a massacre. A tragedy that now threatened to repeat itself.

Tora's pace slowed along the path to the gate. The light of the setting sun pierced through the trees behind him, casting his shadow long and distorted, as if haunted by his own future—or something darker.

In his mind, one figure began to grow larger: Grandmother Ogami.

If that woman succeeded—if she truly revived the Ten Shadows user and the ancient Six Eyes…

"Then history will change."

Tora stopped walking. He stood still on the gravel path, his fists clenched at his sides. The evening wind lifted the hem of his black jacket, but he didn't move.

"What would happen if those two ancient powers were to return in new forms? Could Gojo even stand against them? Or... would this mark the beginning of the end?"

The sky shifted its color—purple mixed with orange, like blood spilled across the canvas of a world long stained.

And amid it all… his heart whispered, bitter yet honest:

"Is there a chance for me…?"

No one answered the question. Not the wind. Not the sky. Not anyone who had ever experienced the same kind of loss and weight that now clung to Tora's soul.

Yet he remained standing there, alone on the border between past and future, realizing one truth:

If history is bound to repeat itself… someone must break the chain.

_____

Three Days Later – Nightfall in Takeyama

Time passed like a cold wind slipping through the cracks of life. In three silent, tense days, the shadows of curses thickened over the world of jujutsu. And tonight, at the foot of Mount Takeyama, the sky pressed heavily on the earth beneath black, suffocating clouds. There were no stars. No moon. Only darkness.

An old house stood in the middle of the quiet forest. Its roof sagged, its walls covered in moss, and the night wind howled through the gaps in its decaying wood. But behind the silence and decay, a dark ritual was being prepared.

Inside that house, in the main room lit only by small candles and the smoke of incense, stood Grandmother Ogami. A hunched old figure, yet her presence was commanding, almost oppressive. She wore a deep green kimono, her white hair tied neatly, and in her hands she clutched cursed prayer beads—trembling slightly, as if sensing an unseen force drawing near.

Her sharp eyes pierced through the smoke. Before her stood her grandchildren, silent in the dim light.

Her voice finally broke the stillness—raspy and sharp, like the bite of an insect in the dead of night.

"Toshiro…" she said slowly, each word like a sting. "It seems you were followed by a jujutsu sorcerer. Have you learned nothing from the teachings I gave you?"

Toshiro bowed his head. His body trembled, sweat beading at his temples. Despite the cold night, his breath was hot and heavy.

"F-Forgive me…" he murmured, barely audible. "I was certain… I wasn't being followed…"

The old floorboards creaked violently as Ogami slammed her cane down.

"FOOL!" she screamed, her face twisting in fury. "MAYBE IT WAS YOUR BROTHER WHO BETRAYED US!"

Her words struck like thunder. The room froze. Even the candle flames seemed to flicker in fear.

Toshiro fell to his knees, his voice desperate, but firm.

"T-That's impossible, Grandmother! Tora would never betray us!"

But no one answered. Beside Ogami, three young figures—Geno, Yuno, and Sora—stood silent. Their eyes avoided each other, knowing that one wrong word might ignite the same wrath upon them.

Silence. Only the wind crept in through the cracks in the walls.

Then, Grandmother Ogami's voice returned—this time lower, but far more terrifying.

"Enough…" she muttered, her fingers twisting the beads. "Call… Ren's elder brother."

All heads turned in unison.

"He's been locked away long enough. It's time to move. We can't afford to wait any longer."

Her words hung in the air like a cursed mist. The night grew darker still. And whatever came next… words alone would never be enough to stop it.

_____

The Deep Forest at Takeyama's Base

Fog clung low, wrapping around roots and damp soil. The night wind drifted through the trees like a whisper from something ancient and unseen. Towering trunks loomed like silent sentinels, and in their midst, six figures moved in disciplined formation, their silhouettes distorted by what little moonlight managed to pierce the cloud-covered sky.

Tora glanced to his side, his eyes on Suguru Geto, who walked just ahead. Doubt and burden weighed heavy in his gaze.

"Why didn't we just wait at the meeting point?" he asked, his voice breaking the forest's stillness. "Why attack their hideout first?"

Geto hadn't yet responded.

A lazy, uninterested voice cut in from behind.

"Geto, let's just finish this quickly."

Gojo Satoru. As usual, his demeanor was nonchalant, as if the threat awaiting them was just another training session. Hands in his jacket pockets, head slightly lowered, his white hair swayed with the breeze.

Geto finally turned, his eyes sharp with seriousness.

"Yes," he replied flatly, though with weight. "Before something far more dangerous appears in this world."

After a short pause, Geto fixed his gaze on Gojo, now with a hint of sharpness.

"And why did you tell them about the location of the ancient jujutsu battlefield?"

Gojo lifted his head slightly. The air around him shifted—thicker, heavier.

"Isn't it exciting?" he said lightly. "A challenge… to prove who's truly the strongest. The past… or the present."

Then, with a smooth, intimidating motion, he raised his sunglasses. For a brief moment, his bright blue eyes shimmered in the dark—like crystals of ice harboring a storm within.

"And I'm certain," he whispered, calm but undeniable, "that I'm the strongest."

Silence fell again. Only the crunch of footsteps on damp leaves echoed.

Beside Tora, Shoko Ieiri, who had remained silent this whole time, leaned slightly toward him. Her voice was soft, but firm.

"Stay close to me, Tora. Don't act on your own."

Tora took a long breath, trying to calm the tension rising in his chest. Then he nodded quietly.

"Yeah… got it."

Their steps continued forward—deeper into the heart of Takeyama's darkness, where history would rise again, and the future might never be the same.

Writer's Note:

A sunny day, do you see the power stone beside you?🐼