“Oops.
Got caught~” Uchiha Ayato tilted his head, gave an innocent little shrug.
“What’s your point, though?
Calling someone out like that is pretty rude, you know.” Before the words had fully left his mouth, he was gone from where he’d been standing.
Sukuna’s pupils snapped tight.
A punch detonated from the right side — Ayato had already closed the gap and was driving a fist straight at his face.
Sukuna’s reflex kicked in.
He twisted his head sideways to dodge and swept his right arm around in a counterattack, five fingers hooked like claws, slashing for Ayato’s throat.
His fingertips stopped dead in the air, centimeters from Ayato’s neck.
Could go no further.
Infinity had blocked him.
The concept of infinite space draped over Uchiha Ayato’s body, reducing the velocity of everything approaching him toward zero, infinitely.
Sukuna’s fingers sank into it like they’d hit a tar pit — every inch forward slower than the last, never quite reaching that skin.
“…Interesting.” Sukuna pulled his hand back, stepped away to create distance.
A sharp light moved through all four of his eyes.
[Chakra: 600,000 / 700,000 (↓10,000/10s)] Ayato’s chakra was draining rapidly.
The Three-Tomoe Sharingan’s precision was more than enough in practice, but it still wasn’t the effortless, second-nature mastery Gojo had — Ayato needed to dedicate more concentration to keeping the technique running.
He still needed to keep Sukuna engaged a little longer to complete the system mission.
Sukuna didn’t give him time to think.
Black cursed energy surged from his fists.
An invisible slash tore through the air, aimed directly at Ayato’s chest.
Sukuna’s technique — Dismantle.
The cutting force scraped across the impenetrable barrier, producing a high-pitched, grating vibration.
This move was exactly what Ayato had been waiting for.
The tomoe in his pupils immediately picked up speed.
The Sharingan began analyzing the technique.
The distraction cost him — his operational precision on the Limitless dipped noticeably.
Fifty seconds left.
The fight pushed forward.
Sukuna stopped trying to break through the Infinity with physical strikes.
Instead he started spamming Dismantle — dense waves of slashes hammering Ayato’s barrier from different angles and frequencies.
Every single Dismantle was a perfect data point for Ayato’s Sharingan to absorb.
But Sukuna was adapting too.
He’d noticed the Limitless wasn’t quite perfect.
When Ayato moved at high speed and countered simultaneously, brief fluctuations appeared in the barrier.
He began deliberately timing Dismantle to land in those gaps — several slashes grazing past Ayato’s cheeks and forearms, drawing fine, hair-thin lines of blood.
“Your defense is clean,” Sukuna noted, throwing out another strike as he spoke.
“But you’re still not smooth enough.
Not even close, kid.” Ayato didn’t answer.
He sidestepped a horizontal Dismantle and closed the distance instantly, driving a knee hard into Sukuna’s midsection.
Twenty seconds.
Sukuna’s body bowed back from the impact.
He didn’t retreat, though — instead he used the opening to grab Ayato’s ankle with one hand and hurled him toward the ground.
Ayato caught himself with one palm, flipped out of it, and kicked up on the way — landing his foot clean under Sukuna’s jaw.
Sukuna stumbled a step, spat out a mouthful of blood, and grinned savagely.
“Look at that.
You’ve got your own moves in there, haven’t you?” Ten seconds.
That was enough.
Ayato landed and didn’t press forward again.
He stood in place and looked at Sukuna directly, letting a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.
“Hey.
Ryomen Sukuna.” He raised his right hand, index and middle finger pressed together, pointed at Sukuna from across the space between them.
“A parting gift before curtain call.” The next second, an invisible slash launched from Uchiha Ayato’s fingertips.
Dismantle.
In under three minutes, he had replicated the King of Curses’ own technique and fired it back at him.
A thin, diagonal cut opened from Sukuna’s left shoulder to his right ribs.
Skin parted.
Dark red blood welled along the line of the wound.
The cut wasn’t deep — maybe ten percent of the actual destructive force Sukuna generated with Dismantle.
By any measure, a scratch.
But the depth of the wound was beside the point.
Ryomen Sukuna went still.
Then he exploded.
“Ha!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” “You little punk—!” He pressed a hand over the wound on his shoulder.
All four eyes blazed with something that hadn’t been there before — the blazing, almost manic joy of a gourmand who has stumbled across a transcendent meal in the middle of nowhere.
“You actually used my technique on me…” His laughter cut off just as abruptly.
Yuji Itadori’s body jerked rigid.
The black tattoo patterns receded from his skin like a tide pulling back.
The four-eyed face — a moment ago radiating bloodlust — blinked, and the killing intent was replaced entirely by blankness and confusion.
Three minutes were up.
Yuji Itadori had reclaimed his body.
[Combat Mission: Fight the Nine-Tails and maintain suppression for three minutes.] [Mission Status: Complete.] [Reward Pending: Chakra capacity x3] Uchiha Ayato: NICE.
Ayato didn’t claim the reward on the spot — there were still people watching, and tripling his cursed energy in front of witnesses would be a bit much to explain.
“…Huh?” The pink-haired boy stared down at the diagonal wound across his own chest, still oozing blood.
He looked up at the black-haired boy who appeared far too pleased with himself.
Then he looked sideways at the blank-faced Fushiguro Megumi.
“Why am I injured?” “Don’t worry.
I held back.
No risk to your life.” Uchiha Ayato reassured Yuji with an easy smile, let his pupils settle back to calm black, then turned to Fushiguro.
“Fushiguro.” “…What.” Fushiguro still hadn’t climbed out of the cognitive avalanche from a moment ago.
He was staring at Ayato’s now-normal eyes, head full of question marks.
“This Itadori kid here…” Ayato tipped his chin toward Yuji.
“He’s highly likely to work as Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel.
He just lost control of his body for three minutes and then took it back precisely on time.
That kind of suppression isn’t something a normal person can do.” Fushiguro was quiet for a moment, gaze moving from Ayato to Yuji and back.
“…I know.” “Then you also know…” Ayato shoved both hands in his pockets, shoulders lifting.
“This is already above your pay grade and mine.
Call Gojo-sensei.
Let him—” “No need to go to all that trouble~” A light, breezy voice floated over from the direction of the rooftop entrance.
Fushiguro’s body tensed for a split second, then relaxed.
Gojo Satoru was leaning against the doorframe, right hand holding up an ice cream bar, left hand in his trouser pocket, carrying the energy of someone who’d just showed up to sightsee.
“Gojo-sensei…” Fushiguro frowned.
“When did you—” “Just now.
Maybe thirty seconds ago?” Gojo took a bite of the ice cream.
“I thought I’d get to make a grand entrance, but turns out Ayato-kun already stole the whole show.” He walked straight over to Ayato and leaned in slightly.
“Full of surprises, Ayato-kun.” “Sorcerers who can copy techniques — I’ve seen a few.
But you…” “Your cursed energy volume is more than double what it was the last time I saw you.
That’s a first for me.” He finished the examination with a playful smirk.
“Honestly, the more I see, the more I’m looking forward to what comes next.” Fushiguro’s grip on reality loosened a little more at those words.
Cursed energy capacity was innate.
No amount of training could change it.
That was the iron law of the jujutsu world.
What you were born with was what you died with.
Double?
How is that possible?
Ayato didn’t take the bait.
He changed the subject.
“Speaking of which, Gojo-sensei — I thought you were playing hands-off.
What brought you back out here?” “For you, obviously.” Gojo reached into his breast pocket and produced a small ticket, pinched between his index and middle fingers, and held it out in front of Ayato’s face.
“Here.
The sumimi Sendai branch CD signing lottery ticket you asked for.” “After I got your message, I had Ijichi track one down at top speed.” “By the way — is that the kind of girl you’re into?
Shiny, sparkly idol girls?” [Investigation Mission: Complete Kakashi’s commission.] [Mission Status: Complete.] [Reward Issued: Ninja Art — Four Symbols Seal] The composed, battle-hardened version of Uchiha Ayato from a moment ago ceased to exist.
The moment he saw the ticket, his eyes lit up with a brightness that could probably be seen from space.
He snatched it from Gojo’s fingers with lightning speed and clutched it against his chest, looking like a man who had received an absolutely sacred object.
“Thank you, thank you!
You’ve really saved me, Sensei!” “Who could say no to catching a sparkling idol performance after a tough mission?
Nobody, that’s who.” On the other side of the rooftop, Fushiguro Megumi and Yuji Itadori looked at each other.
In each other’s eyes, they found the exact same profound bewilderment.
This was the same person who’d just gone toe-to-toe with Ryomen Sukuna without flinching — and he was making this face over a cute idol meet-and-greet ticket?
What on earth.