The path I will take

Mechamaru, his robotic voice filled with a hint of suspicion, asked, "What are you doing here?"

Hanzo, a sinister smile spreading across his face, ran his fingers through his hair in a casual gesture. "I'm here to carry out an order," he said, his voice dripping with malevolent intent.

Maki, her eyes narrowing, demanded, "And what order might that be?"

Hanzo's grin widened, his expression turning truly diabolical. "I've come to kill Momo," he said, his words sending a chill down the spines of all who heard them.

A collective gasp of shock and horror filled the air, the faces of Hiro and his friends paling with dread. Hiro, his jaw clenching with determination, stepped forward, his body radiating a fierce protective energy.

"Run, all of you!" he shouted, his voice filled with a desperate urgency. "Get to Tokyo. Hurry!"

Mechamaru, his robotic eyes flashing with concern, said, "You're not ready for this, Hiro."

Hiro, his expression grim, replied, "What choice do I have?"

Mechamaru, his metallic body whirring as he moved, stepped forward to stand beside Hiro. "This body is just a puppet," he said, his voice filled with a quiet resignation. "It doesn't matter if it's destroyed. I'll help you fight."

Hiro nodded, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes. Maki, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword, said, "Don't even think about telling me to run from a fight."

Hiro, his expression softening with a mixture of love and concern, turned to her. "Maki, please... Take care of Momo."

Maki hesitated for a moment, conflicting emotions warring on her face. But finally, she nodded, her eyes filled with a reluctant acceptance. "Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just... be careful."

Hiro gave her a small, reassuring smile before turning back to face Hanzo. His body crackled with electricity, the air around him humming with the power of his cursed energy. With a roar of determination, he launched himself at his cousin, his fists flying in a blur of motion.

But Hanzo was ready for him. With a casual grace that belied his incredible speed, he ducked beneath Hiro's attack, his own fist slamming into Hiro's stomach with devastating force. Hiro's eyes widened in shock and pain as he felt the air rush from his lungs, his body flying backwards and crashing through the wall of the school with a sickening crunch.

Mechamaru, his arm transforming into a massive cannon, took aim at Hanzo, the weapon humming with barely contained power. But before he could fire, Hanzo was upon him, his hands closing around the robot's wrists with crushing force.

With a malevolent grin, Hanzo opened his mouth, a blast of cursed energy erupting from his throat and engulfing Mechamaru's puppet body. The robot crumpled to the ground, its circuits fried and its limbs twitching uselessly.

"Don't even try it, Hiro," Hanzo called out, his voice filled with a mocking pity. "Remember, I've adapted to all your techniques and speed."

Hiro, his body aching with pain, pushed himself to his feet, a small, defiant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Not all of them," he said, his voice filled with a quiet conviction.

He brought his hands together, his fingers interlocking in a gesture of prayer. "Domain Expansion," he intoned, his voice ringing out through the air. "Gateway to Heaven."

Hanzo's eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "You have a Domain Expansion?" he asked, his voice filled with a hint of fear.

Around them, the world began to shift and change, the sky above them darkening to a deep, ominous blue. Stars twinkled in the firmament, their light casting an eerie glow over the landscape. A winding staircase, its steps made of pure, crackling electricity, stretched up into the heavens, disappearing into the inky void above.

Bolts of lightning crackled and surged around them, the air filled with the smell of ozone and the hum of raw power. Hanzo, his body paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of Hiro's cursed energy, could only watch in horror as the lightning tore through him, searing his flesh and setting his nerves ablaze.

Blood poured from his nose and mouth, his eyes turning red as the capillaries burst under the strain. He fell to his knees, his body convulsing with agony as he retched and vomited, his brain turning to mush under the onslaught of Hiro's power.

Hiro, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination, gathered a crackling sphere of blue lightning in his hand. "Blue Lightning," he said, his voice filled with a grim finality as he hurled the attack at Hanzo.

The explosion was deafening, a blinding flash of blue light engulfing the Domain and obscuring everything from view. When the smoke cleared, Hiro let his Domain dissipate, the world around them returning to normal.

He sat down heavily, his chest heaving with exertion as he stared at Hanzo's charred and lifeless body. "It's over, Hanzo," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and sorrow.

But as he struggled to his feet, his legs shaking with exhaustion, a chilling laugh rang out through the air. Hiro turned, his eyes widening in horror as he watched Hanzo rise from the ground, his body knitting itself back together as his reverse cursed technique healed his wounds.

"How?" Hiro asked, his voice filled with disbelief and despair.

Hanzo, his smile turning cruel and mocking, said, "I told you, didn't I? I've adapted to your techniques. Your Domain Expansion almost killed me, it's true. But your Blue Lightning? It barely tickled."

Hiro, his mind reeling with confusion, said, "That doesn't make any sense."

Hanzo shrugged, his expression one of bored indifference. "I know," he said, his voice filled with a casual disdain.

With a sudden burst of speed, Hanzo closed the distance between them, his fist slamming into Hiro's chest with all the accumulated damage of their battle. Hiro felt his ribs shatter under the impact, his body flying backwards and crashing into the ground with enough force to create a massive crater.

Hiro lay there, his body broken and his mind teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Hanzo, his expression one of cruel amusement, walked over to him, his fingers closing around Hiro's throat and lifting him into the air.

"How I wish I could kill you," he said, his voice filled with a quiet longing. "But I can't. Not yet."

With a casual flick of his wrist, Hanzo tossed Hiro aside, his body crumpling to the ground like a discarded rag doll. He turned, his eyes falling on Maki and Momo, who stood frozen in horror at the entrance to the school.

Maki, Whit la Sword she launched herself at Hanzo, her every blow filled with a desperate fury.

But Hanzo merely laughed, his hand closing around the shaft of the spear and snapping it like a twig. "Pathetic," he said, his voice dripping with contempt.

With a cruel smile, he took the broken blade of the spear and plunged it into Maki's abdomen, the razor-sharp metal tearing through flesh and bone with sickening ease. Maki's eyes widened in shock and pain, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she fell to the ground, her blood staining the earth beneath her.

Momo, her face pale with terror, could only watch in helpless horror as her brother advanced on her, his eyes filled with a malevolent glee. She knew that there was no escape, that her fate had been sealed the moment Hanzo had set foot on the school grounds.

But even as she closed her eyes, even as she waited for the inevitable end, she felt a flicker of hope spark to life in her chest. For she knew that Hiro would never give up, that he would fight with every ounce of his strength to protect her and the ones he loved.

As if Hiro had heard Momo's silent prayers, he summoned the last of his strength and activated his Divine Speed technique. Despite his weakened state, he managed to maintain it for less than half a second, but with a velocity approaching the speed of light, it was more than enough.

In a blur of motion, Hiro appeared behind Hanzo, his hand piercing through his cousin's back and bursting out of his stomach in a spray of blood and viscera. Hanzo, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief, glanced over his shoulder at Hiro.

"You can still move?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and incredulity. "How? I adapted to all your techniques!"

Hiro, his face set in a mask of grim determination, replied, "Not all of them."

With a sickening squelch, Hiro withdrew his hand from Hanzo's body, leaving a gaping hole in his wake. Hanzo, his face contorting with rage and pain, whirled around, his fist flying towards Hiro's face.

But Hiro was ready for him. With a deft twist of his body, he dodged the blow, his own fist crackling with the power of his Black Flash as he slammed it into Hanzo's jaw. The impact was devastating, sending shockwaves of cursed energy rippling through Hanzo's body and leaving him stunned and reeling.

Seizing the opening, Hiro launched himself forward, his fist connecting with Hanzo's face in another devastating Black Flash. Blood sprayed from Hanzo's nose and mouth as he was sent flying backwards, his body crashing through the wall of a nearby school building with a deafening boom.

Hiro, his chest heaving with exertion, staggered over to where Maki lay, her blood staining the ground beneath her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with concern and fear.

Maki, her face pale and her breathing shallow, managed a weak smile. "What do you think, idiot?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hiro, his own smile tinged with worry, said, "Just hold on a little longer, okay?"

He turned back to face Hanzo, who was already stumbling out of the rubble, the gaping wound in his stomach still unhealed. Hiro, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, called out, "Why haven't you healed that yet? I know you've reached your limit. My Domain Expansion fried you completely."

Hanzo, his fists clenched in fury, snarled, "Don't underestimate me!"

But even as he spoke, his legs gave out from under him, and he fell to one knee, his body shaking with exhaustion and pain. "I lost?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief and despair. "To this idiot?"

Suddenly, a voice rang out from behind Hanzo, filled with cruel amusement. "What's this, Hanzo? Is your cousin too much for you to handle?"

Hanzo's eyes widened in shock as he turned to see his father, Miller, standing behind him, a cold smile on his face. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion and fear.

Miller, his expression one of ruthless determination, replied, "I'm here to finish the job."

Hiro, his own face twisting with anger and betrayal, shouted, "Uncle, what the hell are you doing?"

Miller, his smile widening, said, "You wouldn't understand, Hiro. Or rather, you don't have my ambition."

With a casual flick of his wrist, Miller activated his cursed technique. "Cursed Technique: Artifact Manipulation," he intoned, his voice filled with a quiet power.

Behind Hiro, a lance materialized out of thin air, its razor-sharp point gleaming in the sunlight. Before he could react, the weapon shot forward, piercing through Hiro's abdomen and flying into Miller's outstretched hand.

"I have the same technique as Momo," Miller said, his voice cold and emotionless. "But unlike her, I know how to use it properly."

He turned to Hanzo, his expression one of disdain and disappointment. "What good is all that power if you don't use your head?" he asked, his voice dripping with contempt.

Hiro, his eyes wide with shock and pain, fell to his knees, his hand clutching at the wound in his stomach. Momo, her face filled with terror and concern, rushed to his side, her hands fluttering over his body as she tried to assess the damage.

"Are you okay, Hiro?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear and worry.

Hiro, his jaw clenched with pain, managed a small nod. "Take your broom and run," he said, his voice strained and desperate.

Momo, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, shook her head. "What are you saying? I'm older than you. I can't leave you here."

She glanced over at Hanzo, her expression one of heartbreak and regret. "Actually, I think I failed as an older sister."

Hiro, his eyes filling with tears, reached up to cup Momo's cheek, his touch gentle and loving. "That's not true," he said, his voice filled with a fierce conviction. "You've always been important to me. You are important to me. You're my only family."

Momo, her own eyes shining with unshed tears, ran her fingers through Hiro's hair, the gesture filled with a deep and abiding love. "Don't say that," she said, her voice soft and filled with emotion. "You have so much family in Tokyo."

Suddenly, the lance in Miller's hand shot forward once more, piercing through Momo's chest with a sickening crunch. Hiro's eyes widened in horror, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as he watched the life drain from Momo's face.

With a final, tender smile, Momo looked into Hiro's eyes, her blood staining her lips as she whispered, "Hiro... be happy."

And then she was falling, her body crumpling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Hiro, his heart shattering into a million pieces, let out a howl of anguish and despair, his fists slamming into the ground with enough force to crater the earth beneath him.

Miller, his expression one of mock sympathy, said, "Oops. My hand must have slipped."

Hiro, his body crackling with the power of his cursed energy, screamed, "YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! I'LL BLOW THIS WHOLE GODDAMN PLACE TO HELL!"

Electricity surged around him, the air humming with the intensity of his rage and grief. The wind picked up, whipping through the school grounds with the force of a hurricane as Hiro's power continued to grow.

Hanzo, his eyes wide with fear, shouted, "You son of a bitch! You'll kill us all!"

Hiro, his mind consumed by the all-encompassing agony of his loss, replied, "I've lost everything. I have nothing left."

Miller, his smile turning cruel and mocking, said, "That's right. I killed Momo. And not just that. Your suspicions were correct. I killed your father, too."

Hiro, his eyes blazing with a manic fury, screamed, "MAXIMUM VOLTAGE!"

The air around him exploded with power, the sheer magnitude of his cursed energy threatening to tear the school apart at the seams. But Miller, his expression one of calm indifference, simply stood there, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Is this really okay?" he asked, his voice filled with a mocking pity. "To destroy everything? Your girlfriend is still here, you know."

Hiro, his eyes widening in realization, turned to look at Maki's unconscious form, her body lying broken and bleeding on the ground. In that moment, the rage and grief that had consumed him began to dissipate, replaced by a hollow, aching emptiness.

He fell to his knees, the pain of his wounds and the agony of his loss finally overwhelming him. Miller, his smile widening, said, "Let's go, Hanzo."

Hanzo, his body battered and broken, struggled to his feet, his movements slow and labored. "I'll see you later, Hiro," he said, his voice filled with a quiet menace.

With a wave of his hand, Hanzo traced a pentagram on the ground, the symbol glowing with an eerie red light. In a flash of cursed energy, he and Miller vanished, leaving Hiro alone with the shattered remnants of his life.

And as he knelt there, cradling Momo's lifeless body in his arms, Hiro felt a deep and unending sorrow wash over him. The pain of losing her, of losing the one person who had always been there for him, who had loved him unconditionally, was a wound that would never heal.

He wept, his tears mingling with the blood and dirt on his face as he rocked back and forth, his heart breaking with each passing moment. The world around him faded away, the sounds of the school and the distant cries of his friends nothing more than a distant hum in the background.

All that existed was his pain, his grief, and the knowledge that he had failed. Failed to protect the ones he loved, failed to stop the monsters that threatened their world.

And as he sat there, his body and mind numb with the weight of his loss, Hiro knew that he would never be the same. That the boy he had once been, the one who had laughed and loved and dreamed of a brighter future, had died along with Momo.

In his place was a broken shell of a man, a shattered husk of a sorcerer who had lost everything that mattered. And though he knew that he would have to keep fighting, that he would have to find a way to carry on for the sake of those who still needed him, he couldn't help but wonder if it was even worth it anymore.

For what was the point of power, of strength and skill and cursed energy, if he couldn't even protect the ones he loved? What was the point of living in a world where the monsters always seemed to win, where the innocent suffered and died while the guilty went unpunished?

As the sun began to set over the school, casting long shadows across the blood-stained ground, Hiro closed his eyes, his heart filled with a deep and unending despair. He had failed, had lost everything that mattered.

And he didn't know if he would ever be whole again.

Todo and Itadori arrived together at Arata Nitta's side, a blond first-year student at the Kyoto school. The air around them was heavy with the weight of tragedy, the scent of blood and smoke still lingering in the air.

"Sorry for the delay," Todo said, his voice uncharacteristically somber. "Utahime, Gakuganji, and Kamo were seriously injured. Arata was able to give them first aid."

Hiro, his arms wrapped tightly around Momo's lifeless body, said nothing. His eyes were distant and unfocused, as if he were lost in a world of his own pain and grief.

Arata, his face etched with concern, approached Hiro cautiously. "Would you like me to take a look at your wounds?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle. "My technique can prevent them from getting worse, but it can't heal them completely. But don't worry, Shoko and Mr. Gojo are already on their way here on the bullet train."

Hiro, his voice barely above a whisper, replied, "Don't touch me."

Arata, taken aback by the harshness of Hiro's tone, stepped back, his eyes wide with nervousness. Todo, his expression one of grim understanding, said, "Heal the Zenin girl. It looks like Momo... didn't make it."

Itadori, his heart heavy with sorrow, approached Hiro, his hand outstretched in a gesture of comfort. "Are you alright, senpai?" he asked, his voice filled with a quiet concern.

But Hiro remained silent, his gaze fixed on some distant point that only he could see. His eyes were like shattered glass, reflecting the broken fragments of his heart.

Todo, his own voice thick with emotion, said, "Momo was very important to us."

At this, Hiro's head snapped up, his eyes blazing with a sudden, fierce anger. "What do you know about her?" he demanded, his voice raw and ragged with grief. "I bet you thought she was weak, that she shouldn't have been a sorcerer, that she was just a burden."

Itadori, his eyes widening in shock, started to protest. "Senpai, you shouldn't-"

But Todo, his hand coming to rest on Itadori's shoulder, shook his head, silencing him with a look. He understood the depth of Hiro's pain, the all-consuming agony of losing someone so precious.

Hiro, his eyes brimming with tears, cried out, "Why? Why Momo?"

His words were like a knife to the heart, a cruel twist of fate that had taken away the one person who had always been there for him, who had loved him unconditionally.

Suddenly, Sukuna's mouth appeared on Itadori's cheek, his voice filled with a mocking cruelty. "That's right, brat," he said, his words dripping with malice. "This happened because you're still weak."

And then he began to laugh, the sound harsh and grating in the stillness of the moment. It was like salt in an open wound, a cruel reminder of the powerlessness that Hiro felt in the face of his loss.

Itadori, his face twisting with anger and disgust, slapped his own cheek, silencing Sukuna's laughter. But the damage had been done, the words hanging in the air like a poisonous cloud.

Hiro said nothing, his eyes distant and unfocused once more. He was like a ghost, a pale shadow of the vibrant, lively young man he had once been.

In that moment, he felt like a ship lost at sea, adrift in an ocean of grief and despair. The waves of his emotions crashed over him, threatening to pull him under and drown him in their depths.

Momo had been his anchor, his guiding light in the darkness. She had been the one constant in his life, the one person who had always believed in him, even when he didn't believe in himself.

And now she was gone, taken from him by the cruelty of fate and the machinations of evil men. Her absence was like a gaping wound in his heart, a void that could never be filled.

___________

Two weeks had passed since the tragic events in Kyoto. Hiro found himself sitting beneath the shade of a tree, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and gold. His eyes, once bright and full of life, now seemed dull and weary, the weight of his failure to protect his beloved cousin resting heavily upon his shoulders. He felt no desire to move, no motivation to face the world that had taken Momo from him.

Each night, Hiro was haunted by the memory of her death, the guilt of not being strong enough to save her eating away at his soul like a corrosive acid. He was a shell of his former self, a broken man consumed by the all-encompassing agony of his loss.

As he sat there, lost in his own dark thoughts, Gojo appeared beside him, his presence a sudden intrusion into Hiro's solitude. "What's going on?" Gojo asked, his voice filled with a gentle concern. "Still feeling down?"

Hiro remained silent, his gaze fixed on some distant point that only he could see. Gojo, his expression softening with understanding, continued, "Part of being a sorcerer is knowing that there will be people who leave us too soon."

At this, Hiro finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "If I had been stronger, I could have protected her."

Gojo, in a rare moment of vulnerability, removed the blindfold from his eyes, revealing the piercing blue orbs that had earned him the title of the strongest sorcerer in the world. "Believe me, Hiro," he said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity, "even if you become the strongest, you can't protect everyone."

Hiro fell silent once more, his mind turning over Gojo's words, searching for some glimmer of comfort or understanding in their depths. But before he could respond, Gojo's gaze shifted to a figure approaching in the distance.

It was Mai, her slender form moving with a graceful purpose as she drew near, a medium-sized case clutched in her hands. Gojo, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, said, "It looks like you have a visitor."

He reached out and ruffled Hiro's hair, the gesture filled with a gentle affection. "If you need to talk, you know where to find me," he said, before turning and walking away, leaving Hiro alone with his thoughts once more.

As Mai approached, her eyes took in the sight of Hiro's disheveled appearance. The dark circles beneath his once-brilliant blue eyes spoke of the countless sleepless nights he had endured, the toll of his grief etched into every line of his face. His golden hair, normally so carefully styled and maintained, now hung in short, unkempt strands, a testament to his neglect and despair.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Hiro," Mai said, her voice filled with a quiet sincerity.

Hiro, his movements slow and heavy, pushed himself to his feet, his eyes meeting Mai's with a dull, lifeless gaze. "Thank you," he said, his voice rough and ragged with disuse. "I heard you were a good friend to Momo."

Mai nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, she helped make things easier for me at school."

Hiro, his expression softening with a flicker of warmth, said, "I'm glad to hear that."

Mai, her hands trembling slightly, held out the case she had been carrying. "Here, take this," she said, her voice filled with a quiet urgency.

Hiro, his brow furrowing in confusion, asked, "What is it?"

Mai, her eyes shining with unshed tears, explained, "Momo had been saving money to buy this for you for Christmas. I know it's still a couple of months away, but you know how she was. As soon as she had the money, she bought it, and I wanted to come and give it to you."

Hiro, his hands shaking with emotion, took the case from Mai, his fingers running over the smooth surface with a reverent touch. He opened it slowly, his breath catching in his throat as he saw what lay inside.

It was a sansetsukon, a three-sectioned staff, its azure surface adorned with intricate carvings of Western dragons winding their way between the segments. Mai, her voice filled with a quiet admiration, said, "Momo knew you didn't like weapons, but this one is perfect for your technique."

Hiro, his eyes widening with sudden understanding, took the sansetsukon in his hands, his fingers wrapping around the cool metal with a sense of familiarity and purpose. He began to move, his body flowing through the stances and strikes that Maki had once taught him, the weapon becoming an extension of his own being.

As he moved, electricity began to crackle and surge around the sansetsukon, the power of his cursed energy flowing through the metal and enhancing its speed and strength. Hiro, his eyes blazing with a newfound determination, stopped, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Thank you, Mai," he said, his voice filled with a quiet gratitude. "I'll treasure this always."

Mai, her own eyes shining with a mix of sorrow and understanding, nodded. "Don't mention it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hiro, his heart swelling with a sudden, fierce desire to connect with another human being, asked, "Would you like to go get something to drink?"

But Mai, her expression turning apologetic, shook her head. "Actually, I'm just passing through. I need to get back to Kyoto. Miwa is waiting for me outside."

Hiro, his shoulders slumping slightly in disappointment, nodded. The two of them shared a brief, awkward hug, the gesture filled with a shared sense of loss and grief.

As Mai walked away, her form slowly receding into the distance, Hiro turned and made his way back towards the school, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his sorrow. As he walked, he passed Maki in the hallway, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him.

"Hiro," she said, her voice filled with a hesitant concern. "It's been a while since we've talked. Do you need anything?"

Hiro, his gaze fixed on the floor, walked past her without meeting her eyes. "Maki," he said, his voice flat and emotionless, "I don't think this is going to work out between us. I have too much on my mind. You deserve better."

Maki, her expression turning cold and distant, replied, "Oh, really? Well, if that's what's best for you, then fine."

Hiro, his heart twisting with a sudden, sharp pain, nodded. But as he started to walk away, he paused, his back still turned to Maki. "By the way," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm going to the United States for a while."

Maki, her brow furrowing in confusion, asked, "What for?"

But Hiro, his jaw clenching with a grim determination, said nothing. He simply walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty hallway.

Maki, her eyes filling with tears of anger and frustration, whispered, "Idiot."

Hiro, his mind consumed by a single, all-encompassing thought, entered his room, his movements mechanical and precise. He grabbed a small suitcase and began to pack, his hands moving with a feverish intensity.

"Momo," he said, his voice filled with a quiet desperation, "forgive me for what I'm about to do. I know you wouldn't have wanted this, but... I do."

With shaking hands, Hiro picked up his phone and dialed a number, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for the person on the other end to pick up.

"Hiro?" a voice answered, the sound tinny and distant through the speaker.

"Uncle..." Hiro said, his voice filled with a cold, ruthless determination. "No, Ryo Miller. I'm coming to New York. I'm going to kill the grandparents, your brothers, your other children, the entire Miller clan, the American jujutsu world."

On the other end of the line, Miller's voice turned mocking, filled with a cruel amusement. "Oh? And what do you hope to gain from that?"

But Hiro, his jaw clenching with rage, simply hung up, his fingers trembling as he lowered the phone from his ear.

Miller, his own anger boiling over, threw his phone to the ground, the device shattering into a thousand pieces. "HANZO!" he screamed, his voice filled with a manic fury. "GET IN HERE!"

Hanzo, his expression one of mild curiosity, entered the room, his head tilted to the side in a gesture of inquiry. "What's going on, Father?"

Miller, his face twisted with rage, snarled, "I NEED YOU TO GO BACK TO NEW YORK."

Hanzo, his brow furrowing in confusion, said, "The Shibuya incident is coming up soon. Geto wants me to accompany Mahito. We're going to fulfill our end of the deal with Kokichi."

Miller, his anger reaching a boiling point, slammed his fist down on his desk, the wood splintering and cracking under the force of the blow. He ran a hand through his hair, his chest heaving with the effort of controlling his emotions.

"Fine," he said, his voice filled with a cold, ruthless determination. "I'll do it myself. After all, Shibuya is more important. Once that's done, our reign begins."

Hanzo, his expression turning thoughtful, asked, "About that... Do you know what Geto meant by the 'thousand-year-old sorcerers'?"

Miller, his eyes narrowing in contemplation, replied, "No idea, but I don't care."

With that, he stood up and strode out of his office, his footsteps quick and purposeful as he made his way towards New York, his mind consumed by the need to protect everything he had built.

And as Hiro and Miller set out on their separate paths, each driven by their own dark desires and twisted ambitions, the stage was set for a confrontation that would shake the very foundations of the jujutsu world.

For in the end, there could be no peace, no rest, until the cycle of violence and revenge had run its course. Until the last drop of blood had been spilled, and the last debt had been paid.

And Hiro, his heart filled with a cold, ruthless determination, knew that he would not stop until he had avenged Momo's death, until he had made the Miller clan pay for their sins.

Even if it meant sacrificing his own soul in the process.

Author's Note:

Hurry! Mr. Miller can only hire an evil sorcerer to help him, who should he?