SHIBUYA.

"Listen to me...don't pull up to Shibuya." -Mechamaru

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7:00 PM. A thick, impenetrable curtain was cast over a 400-meter radius in the heart of Shibuya City, plunging the bustling streets into eerie silence. Non-sorcerers could enter, but none could leave, as if an invisible hand was gripping them in place.

Inside, the usual hum of the city had fallen to a dull whisper, the faint murmur of confusion spreading through the crowds. The curtain blocked cell service, isolating those trapped inside. Jujutsu sorcerers and their managers could move freely, but they, too, were cut off from the outside world.

Amid this chaos, Kiyotaka Ijichi hurriedly relayed the situation to the "Nanami Team," which consisted of Megumi Fushiguro, Takuma Ino, and Nanami Kento himself. His voice was steady, though the urgency behind his words was unmistakable.

"It's a large-scale curtain, centered in Shibuya," Ijichi explained, the tension in his eyes betraying his usual calm demeanor. "Non-sorcerers are trapped, but we can move through it freely. However, all cell service is blocked inside the barrier, so there's no way to call for help or coordinate with others outside."

Nanami, standing with his usual straight-backed posture, sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. "What a pain," he muttered. "A situation like this... it's hardly ideal."

Beside him, Megumi crossed his arms, his sharp eyes narrowing in thought. "If Ino's here, that means it's not entirely out of control yet. What's the severity of the situation?" He glanced over at Ino, whose casual demeanor contrasted with the tension in the air.

Ino Takuma shrugged slightly. "Well, if it was that bad, he would already be here. Right?" His tone was light, but the unspoken weight behind his words settled between them. Everyone in the room knew who he meant, Satoru Gojo.

The mention of Gojo's name hung in the air like a lifeline—his presence was the standard by which they measured every battle's potential for catastrophe. If Gojo was around, things were under control. But if they were here without him...

Meanwhile, just outside Shibuya Mark City's business center, the normally packed intersection lay disturbingly empty.

The street that should have been bustling with the constant flow of pedestrians was now desolate, save for the few scattered figures standing frozen near the perimeter of the curtain. It was as if an unseen force had drained the life from the area.

Akari Nitta stood with her arms crossed, eyes scanning the perimeter as she relayed the latest report to the Zenin team. Her voice, calm yet stern, didn't betray the unsettling nature of the information she was delivering.

"They're all asking for the same thing," Akari said, her gaze sharp. "They want us to bring Satoru Gojo."

Nobara Kugisaki frowned, her brow furrowing. "They want Gojo-sensei?" She exchanged a quick glance with Maki, who remained stone-faced, her sharp gaze scanning the area. "I'm not in the mood to sit with this guy..."1

Naobito Zenin, the head of the Zenin clan, was also present, his expression as unreadable as ever. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It's obvious. The non-sorcerers were told to say that," he said, his voice gruff but measured. "Someone's orchestrating this. The curtains are designed to keep them in and allow us to move freely. Breaking the barrier by force is out of the question."

Maki's sharp eyes flicked toward Naobito. "So, what's the play here?"

"The ideal strategy," Naobito said, his voice low, "is to find the curse user who cast the curtain and neutralize them. But for now..." He paused, eyes narrowing as if considering their next steps. "We're on standby. The higher-ups want Gojo to handle this alone. They think he can suppress the Shibuya Incident quickly."

Nobara scoffed, crossing her arms. "Typical. They always expect Gojo-sensei to handle everything."

"Of course they do," Naobito muttered. "But this isn't about what's typical. This is about control."

Meanwhile, deep inside Tokyo Tower, Yuji Itadori was ascending the endless stairs, his footsteps echoing in the vast, empty structure. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he climbed, each step feeling heavier than the last. The air felt thick, not just from the physical exertion, but from the strange weight of the situation.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" Yuji asked aloud, his voice bouncing off the concrete walls. His tone was uncertain, as though he was asking himself more than anyone else.

A small mouth appeared on his right cheek, just beneath a pale red eye. "Yep," the mouth replied, its voice casual. "Besides, it was that or be stuck next to that annoying kid."

Yuji groaned inwardly, remembering Ui Ui—-Mei Mei's younger brother, whose obsessive attachment to his sister had made for some... uncomfortable company. "Yeah, I guess that's true," Yuji muttered. He continued climbing, feeling the weight of the decision they were about to make gnawing at him.

As he ascended another flight, Yuji's thoughts grew heavier. His eyes flickered toward the smallmouth. "So... after this," he began, hesitating, "what happens to you?"

The mouth remained silent for a moment as if contemplating the question.

"Are you afraid I'd die, Yuji? How cute," the voice teased, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper in its tone.

Yuji shook his head, trying to push down the knot forming in his chest. "Honestly? I am." His voice grew quieter. "It's been weird, but... I've grown used to you being around."

His steps slowed, and his mood dropped as the reality of what was coming settled in. This strange partnership—this odd bond he had formed with "Ghost-Sensei," as he jokingly called him—was about to end.

The mouth didn't respond, and Yuji didn't need to hear anything else to know what that meant. This is it, he thought. After this, it'll just be me and Sukuna again. Fighting. Hating each other. Forever.

The staircase seemed to stretch on forever. With each step, the cold, empty future crept in closer.

...

The Kusakabe Team, if it could be called that, consisted of only two members: Panda and the second-year teacher himself, Atsuya Kusakabe.

They stood just outside Jr Shibuya Station, the air thick with tension. Kusakabe leaned against a nearby railing, his sword resting lazily on his shoulder as he eyed the flickering edge of the massive curtain enveloping Shibuya City.

"Mei Mei's got a squad too," Kusakabe said, breaking the silence. His voice was gruff, laced with a hint of impatience. "They're posted at another location, probably near Shibuya Hikarie. For now, we're supposed to wait here and secure the perimeter."

Panda, towering over his teacher but exuding far more calm, nodded. "So, we're just watching the exits?" he asked, his tone neutral. Despite his easy-going nature, Panda's instincts were on high alert. Something about the atmosphere felt off, like the calm before a storm.

"More or less," Kusakabe replied, adjusting his stance. "The higher-ups don't want any unnecessary injuries, especially since we can't communicate with anyone inside the curtain. And our job is to make sure nothing slips past Gojo." He chuckled dryly, the sound lacking humor. "Not like anything's likely to slip past him anyway."

Panda crossed his arms, his eyes scanning the crowd of civilians gathered outside the station. People were confused, and restless, but relatively safe. He understood the logic behind the orders.

If Gojo was fighting inside the curtain, their best move was to stay out of the way. "Makes sense," Panda said, "especially if we can't help much in there."

Kusakabe nodded, though his eyes remained sharp. "As for the civilians inside... it's relatively peaceful, believe it or not. They're panicked, sure, but nothing or no one's going around slaughtering them."

He paused, his gaze narrowing at the mention of what lay within the Shibuya curtain. "But that's not why I'm staying out here. There's a bunch of special-grade curses holed up inside the Shibuya Hikarie Building. I'm not stepping into that death trap."

Panda regarded his teacher with a sideways glance. He didn't blame him—most sorcerers would hesitate at the prospect of facing multiple special-grade curses. "And Gojo's supposed to handle all that alone?" he asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question.

Kusakabe sighed, resting his sword against the ground. "Yeah. That's what the higher-ups want. Gojo deals with the mess, and we keep the perimeter clean. No need to overthink it." His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it—an undercurrent of unease that even he couldn't fully suppress.

Within the suffocating curtain, the atmosphere was thick with fear and frustration. The streets were filled with civilians, many of whom were dressed in their Halloween costumes, their makeup and masks now giving them a grotesque, surreal appearance against the backdrop of the unnatural barrier.

Groups huddled together, whispering anxiously amongst themselves, their eyes darting toward every shadow. "I just want Gojo to get here already," one woman muttered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and impatience.

She clutched her friend's arm tightly, her painted face now streaked with tears. "He's supposed to be the strongest, right? He'll fix all this, won't he?"2

Another girl beside her, dressed as a witch, nodded vigorously. "Yeah, he'll show up any minute and take down whatever's doing this. We'll be out of here soon. It's just... like a horror movie or something." She forced a nervous laugh, but it was clear she was on the verge of losing her composure.

A young man, his mask pulled down to hang around his neck, turned toward them with a grim look. "I heard it's not just Gojo we're waiting for. People at the intersection outside Shibuya Mark City got sucked into the station without warning. Like... vanished. Right where they were standing. Some of them might even be inside with us now."

The witch-costumed girl's eyes widened, her face paling beneath the heavy makeup. "Sucked into the station...?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Like something just took them." His voice dropped lower, the words sending a chill through the group. "We're stuck in here. And it's only a matter of time before whatever's doing this comes after us, too."

The murmur of panic began spreading through the crowd, growing louder by the minute. People were losing patience, their hope now pinned entirely on Satoru Gojo—on him arriving to save them before things got worse. But as the seconds ticked by, and the tension grew heavier, their faith in rescue began to wane.

Back outside, Panda shifted his weight, listening to the distant murmurs of the crowd beyond the station. "Do you think Gojo's okay in there?" he asked, though his voice was calm, betraying no sense of doubt.

Kusakabe shrugged, glancing briefly at the curtain before turning his gaze back to Panda. "If Gojo isn't okay, then no one is."

Panda's eyes flickered toward the horizon, where the dark curtain loomed ominously over Shibuya. Somewhere inside, Satoru Gojo was fighting alone against something terrible. The weight of that knowledge pressed against him, but he said nothing more. All they could do now was wait.

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[Auther: Yo.

As usual, Eufuzy is my annoying supporter, don't look him up, please.]