“What mysterious hooded guy?”
Kashimo squinted at Julian.
The last time he had seen that look of shock on the kid’s face was when they first locked eyes on the rooftop.
The teenager back there had decent cursed energy, but nothing extraordinary.
Was he supposed to be some legendary figure?
Julian realized his slip of the tongue and waved his hands quickly.
“Kashimo, didn’t you hear what the other guy called him?
He said Yuji!”
“Yuji?” Kashimo repeated the name, his brow furrowing as he searched his vessel’s memory.
“Is he some renowned modern sorcerer?”
“Yuji!
Yuji Itadori!” Julian yelled, practically jumping out of his seat.
Yuji Itadori?
The name hit Kashimo like a bolt of lightning.
The vessel.
Sukuna’s host.
Kashimo slammed his boot onto the brake pedal.
The tires screeched against the asphalt, sending the sports car into a sharp skid before coming to a dead halt.
He whipped his head around, staring back down the empty avenue.
They had driven over a hundred meters past the intersection, rendering the two figures in the distance little more than silhouettes under the streetlights.
All the lingering frustration on Kashimo’s face vanished in an instant.
He had spent hours looking for high-level targets, entirely unaware that the ultimate prize was wandering the streets of Tokyo.
Compared to Sukuna, the four fighters in Sendai were meaningless.
Without waiting to unbuckle the seatbelt, Kashimo kicked the driver’s side door open, snapping the restraint mechanism with raw force as he launched himself onto the street.
Julian winced from the passenger seat, clutching his chest.
“Hey!
That’s a high-end import!
Show a little respect for the leather!”
A hundred meters away, Choso’s eyes snapped toward the oncoming pressure.
“Yuji, get behind me!
Enemy!”
Choso thrust an arm out, shielding Yuji behind his torso.
His expression hardened into pure severity as he locked onto the approaching figure.
Even without the warning, Yuji could feel the sheer volume of cursed energy boiling off Kashimo from across the street.
The air itself seemed to crackle with ozone.
Yuji turned to the trembling office worker beside them, his voice low and urgent. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“Sir, run.
Get as far away from here as you can.”
The man stumbled back in terror, nodded frantically, and bolted down a side alley.
Once the civilian cleared the area, Yuji stepped up beside Choso, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists.
A hundred meters meant nothing to a sorcerer of Kashimo’s caliber.
In the span of a single breath, the blue-haired ancient warrior closed the gap, stopping a mere three meters from the pair.
Kashimo completely ignored Choso.
His burning, electrified gaze locked straight onto Yuji.
“You’re Sukuna’s vessel?”
Yuji’s chest tightened.
Another one hunting the monster inside him.
His silence was all the confirmation Kashimo needed.
A dark, exhilarating thrill swept through the ancient warrior’s frame.
“Good!” Kashimo’s voice rose, vibrating with static charge.
“Relinquish control!
Bring Sukuna out so I can tear him apart!”
Yuji’s jaw set hard.
The nightmare of Shibuya—the memory of hundreds of innocent lives erased in a flash of domain slaughter while Sukuna piloted his body—was barely twenty-four hours old.
Hearing someone treat that monster like a prize fight ignited a surge of cold fury in Yuji’s veins.
Before he could step forward, a heavy shadow blocked his path.
Choso stood firmly in front of Yuji, glare fixed on Kashimo.
“State your business and walk away.
Do it now, and I will pretend this encounter never happened.”
Kashimo blinked, finally sparing Choso a glance.
He hadn’t paid much attention to the man at first, but the dark, dense pool of energy churning inside Choso’s core caught his interest.
Kashimo tilted his head, turning slightly.
“Hey.
Who is this one?”
Choso frowned.
Who was this lunatic talking to?
Footsteps came pounding down the pavement behind them.
“Kashimo…
wait up…” Julian stumbled to a halt, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, gasping for air.
Unlike an ancient sorcerer who could cross a football field in a fraction of a second, Julian had to sprint the entire distance on foot.
Kashimo didn’t care about Julian’s physical exhaustion.
He gestured toward Choso with his chin.
Who is he?”
Julian caught his breath, wiping sweat from his forehead as he straightened up.
Seeing Choso in person for the first time made a faint grin touch his lips.
He had always appreciated the devoted elder brother.
“My network never misses,” Julian tapped his chest, stepping up beside Kashimo.
“This guy has a wild background.
He’s one of the Special Grade Cursed Objects—the Cursed Womb: Death Paintings.
Created over a century ago by Noritoshi Kamo, who forced a human woman to bear children mixed with cursed spirit blood.”
Julian gestured toward Choso’s distinct facial markings.
“He reincarnated through a human host just like you.
But because of his unique heritage, he inherited the Kamo clan’s ancestral Blood Manipulation technique while retaining the physiology of a cursed spirit.”
Kashimo’s eyes flickered with genuine surprise.
“A cursed spirit’s physiology allows him to convert cursed energy directly into blood,” Julian explained.
“Which means he never suffers from blood loss or anemia when using his technique.
His stamina and output in a blood-based fight are practically endless.”
Kashimo studied Choso with fresh eyes.
He had assumed the man was just a standard Grade 1 combatant, but a hybrid holding one of the Three Great Families’ hereditary techniques was a different matter entirely.
Blood Manipulation was famous even four hundred years ago, though its primary weakness had always been the physical limits of human blood volume.
A user who could generate infinite blood from raw cursed energy effectively eliminated the technique’s greatest flaw.
A sharp, dangerous smile spread across Kashimo’s face.
“The bloodline of the Kamo clan?
Then you’re worth killing.”
The name hit Choso like a strike to a nerve.
“Do not speak that name in front of me!” Choso’s voice dropped, laced with absolute venom.
“My name is Choso!”
Kashimo blinked, glancing sideways at Julian.
Julian stepped in smoothly.
“Kamo Noritoshi abused Choso and his brothers from the moment they were conceived.
Choso despises the man and refuses to acknowledge any connection to the Kamo clan.”
Kashimo let out a short, dismissive snort, utterly unconcerned with personal grievances.
“Because he spent over a century sealed as a cursed object alongside his brothers,” Julian added, looking at Choso with a trace of regret, “he never received formal instruction from the Kamo family masters.
He developed his Blood Manipulation entirely on his own.
Right now, he operates at a solid Grade 1 level.
But give him time to refine his technique, and his hybrid body could easily reach Special Grade.”