The cold numbers solidified on the top-secret archives of the Jujutsu World Headquarters:
Shibuya Incident: Deaths — 5,376 (excluding modified humans). Deaths involving modified humans — 7,129.
Severely injured and disabled — 6,955. Lightly injured — 4,251.
Total casualties: 23,411.
These numbers lay heavy on the paper, recording the true devastation left by the clash between the King of Curses and a certain entity.
However, these very numbers were already much better than those in the original story.
In the original story, the entire Tokyo plunged into darkness, and almost all twenty-three districts of Tokyo were destroyed. Nearly five million citizens needed to evacuate, not to mention that many high-ranking government officials were missing, and the government even considered moving the Prime Minister’s official residence to Osaka.
Therefore, Chen Tian’s appearance, to a certain extent, reduced the casualties and losses.
However, as night receded and dawn forcibly broke over the devastated land of Shibuya, the television screens broadcast a completely different narrative.
The news anchor, with exquisite makeup and a steady tone, spoke with a touch of appropriate solemnity:
“During last night’s Halloween celebrations, multiple severe natural gas pipeline explosion accidents occurred in Shibuya district, resulting in ten deaths and fifty people injured to varying degrees. The government will deeply reflect and strengthen public safety supervision…”
The scene quickly switched, the camera sweeping over deliberately cleaned-up peripheral streets, a few symbolic, collapsed building remnants encircled by safety fences, and rescue personnel in neat uniforms performing “cleanup” work.
Ten people? Fifty people?
The scene outside the window silently mocked — over half of Shibuya’s core area had vanished! As far as the eye could see, there was a smooth, desolate, grayish-white flatland stretching for several kilometers, as if brutally scraped by an invisible giant plow!
That was the absolute cutting zone left by Sukuna’s domain! Beyond this “plain,” lay a forest of wreckage completely destroyed by the shockwave, twisted steel bars like the ribs of a giant beast piercing the hazy sky, and broken glass and concrete dust covering everything.
Absurd?
But no one questioned it.
The Halloween revelers, the chaotic screams and stampedes, the families and friends of countless missing persons… their memories were completely overwritten and altered by the mandatory “cleansing” ordered by the higher-ups of the Jujutsu World.
All that remained were fragments of impressions: the deafening explosions, the flashes of fire, the chaotic shoving, and the “reasonable” numbers from the official news.
“Reiko… Reiko went missing in the explosion…” A middle-aged man stood distraught outside the cordon, staring blankly at the vast, suffocating “plain” in the distance, his eyes hollow as he repeated the implanted memory.
His daughter had left excitedly last night to attend Shibuya’s “super-large Halloween parade,” and never returned.
He vaguely felt something was wrong deep down; immense grief and a sense of incongruity gnawed at him, but that tiny spark of doubt was firmly suppressed by the omnipresent cognitive correction.
“Natural gas pipeline explosion?” Zen’in Maki, in her Jujutsu High uniform, pushed up her glasses, standing on a relatively intact tall building, overlooking the hellish scene below, a cold, biting curve on her lips.
She could clearly see Jujutsu Sorcerers moving like ghosts deep within the ruins, clearing away overly obvious severed limbs and cursed traces.
In the distance, massive construction machinery, driven by official forces, had already begun symbolic work at the edge of the “plain.” “What a… grand fireworks display.”
Kento Nanami walked silently through an alley filled with the smell of disinfectant and blood, his feet crunching on fine glass and synthetic fiber fragments.
Several blood-stained Halloween decorations were caught in a twisted window frame, swaying in the wind. He adjusted his crooked tie, his eyes behind the lenses weary yet sharp.
If the mastermind behind the Shibuya Incident remained unpunished, similar events to Shibuya would continue to occur in Tokyo.
“Sigh, when can I take a vacation to Malaysia?” Kento Nanami wearily pinched his brow.
“Reconstruction! Eastern Capital Governor announces the establishment of the Shibuya Special Reconstruction Headquarters!” “Experts analyze rare geological activity combined with aging pipeline networks led to tragedy!” “Citizens’ prayer event to be held tomorrow!”…
News headlines scrolled by, like thick layers of paint, attempting to whitewash the 23,411 silent screams.
And all of this did not disturb Chen Tian and Marin’s sweet morning.
Marin reached out to block the sunlight streaming through the curtains. She slowly opened her eyes, “Ah~ It’s morning already~”
She let out a lazy sound, then reached to her side, trying to hug her boyfriend for another nap, but found nothing.
Marin didn’t feel Chen Tian’s body, and when she opened her eyes, she realized the person next to her was no longer in bed. This made her more awake, and she then caught a faint scent of food.
“Tian-kun?” Marin called softly, her voice soft and sweet from just waking up.
She threw back the covers, stepped barefoot onto the soft carpet, and followed the scent towards the kitchen.
Chen Tian was seen wearing an apron, busily focused at the stove. The fried dumplings in the pan sizzled with oil, their white skins gradually turning golden-brown, emitting an enticing sheen.
“You’re awake.” Chen Tian noticed Marin’s arrival, turned and smiled, “Go wash up quickly, breakfast will be ready soon.”
Marin walked behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her face against his back, “Why are you up so early? You were so tired last night…”
Chen Tian turned slightly and placed a kiss on her forehead, “I wanted to make you breakfast. You were sleeping so soundly last night, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
Marin finished washing up and returned to the dining room. The table was already filled with exquisite food: fried dumplings, steamed buns, vegetable and fruit salad, and steaming hot milk.
The two sat opposite each other, enjoying the quiet moment. Marin took a bite of a steamed bun and said contentedly, “It’s so delicious, Chen Tian, your cooking has improved again.”
Chen Tian smiled at her, “Eat more if you like it.”
Outside the window, people bustled about as usual, no one knowing what truly happened behind the scenes in Shibuya last night.
Marin happily bit into a fried dumpling. The golden, crispy skin shattered between her teeth, and the savory meat juice mixed with the sweet freshness of cabbage instantly filled her mouth.
Morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warm and inviting, falling on the newly laid linen tablecloth.
“…Latest developments in the Shibuya natural gas explosion accident, the death toll has risen to fifteen…”
The news anchor’s steady, almost cold, broadcast suddenly cut in.
Marin’s chewing motion abruptly stopped.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the chopsticks, knuckles turning white.
She looked up, her gaze piercing through the rising steam, towards Chen Tian opposite her.
“Tian-kun,” her voice lowered, carrying the languor of a full stomach, yet with a hint of tension, “Last night… even with you there, did so many people still die?”
When Chen Tian returned last night, the faint smell of rust and cold aura on him was easily covered by the steam from the bathroom and his warm embrace.
He didn’t even touch the late-night snack she had carefully prepared, but instead swept her into the warm water and a more intense vortex, melting all her unspoken questions into gasps.
Chen Tian’s hand, holding the milk cup, paused almost imperceptibly for half a second, the light at the rim of the cup dancing for a moment between his fingers.
His eyelids drooped slightly, his gaze fixed on the swirling milky white liquid in the cup, his tone as calm as if describing yesterday’s weather:
“By the time I got there, it was already chaotic.”
He didn’t explain the twisted Cursed Spirits, the rampaging King of Curses, nor did he mention the terrifying domain that annihilated half a city block and the space-cutting capable of severing anything. He only used the vague word “chaotic.”
The radiance that had just lit up Marin’s face from the delicious food and sunlight was instantly wiped away by an invisible hand, her expression falling.
Even though her boyfriend was a “hero” with extraordinary powers, he still couldn’t stop the cold death toll from mercilessly climbing.
A helpless, tiny sense of loss gnawed at her heart. She looked at Chen Tian’s flawless profile; he was so calm, as if the news on TV was only about some distant, unfamiliar country.
Chen Tian put down his milk cup.
He didn’t care about the number fifteen on the TV; whether it was ten or five thousand, it was just background noise to him. But Marin’s fallen face and white knuckles made his brow furrow almost imperceptibly.
He stood up, walked around the table, and as Marin watched with downcast eyes, he slid his arms under her knees and back, easily lifting her whole body from the chair.
“Ah!” The sensation of weightlessness made Marin gasp softly, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
Chen Tian carried her back to his own chair, settling her gently on his lap, like a fragile treasure. His strong arms encircled her, and he lightly rubbed his chin against the top of her head, his warm breath caressing her earlobe.
“Marin,” his voice was low, carrying a steady strength that could smooth away any agitation, overriding the news anchor’s formulaic broadcast, “At least, the others were saved.”
This simple sentence was like a warm current flowing into her heart.
Marin’s small sense of loss and helplessness was instantly swept away by this firm embrace and the resolute power in his words.
Her carefree nature immediately took over, and her eyes lit up again, like stars falling into them.
“Of course!” She waved her small fists, a wide smile blooming on her face, the previous gloom completely gone, “Tian-kun is the best!”
She excitedly wiggled, finding a more comfortable position on Chen Tian’s lap, and looked up at him, her eyes sparkling, “Oh, right! Is Tian-kun’s superhero identity a secret? Like Batman and Spider-Man? So cool!”
Chen Tian was amused by her sudden leap in thought, his chest vibrating slightly.
He raised a hand, his calloused fingertips affectionately ruffled her fluffy hair, making her head sway.
“Eat up,” he picked up the half-finished cup of warm milk from the table and placed it in her hand, interrupting her fantasy about a secret superhero identity, “The milk’s getting cold, don’t forget, there’s a stage rehearsal today.”
“Oh, right!” Marin then remembered the important matter, quickly hugged the milk cup, and took a big gulp, leaving a faint white mark on her lips.
She obediently slid off Chen Tian’s lap and returned to her seat.
Outside, the sun was bright, and the news continued to report the “tragedy” of fifteen people.
In the dining room, the two exchanged smiles, as if that brief shadow had never appeared.
The aroma of fried dumplings, the warmth of the milk, and the exclusive focus in Chen Tian’s eyes created a small but unbreakable world.
The sweet morning continued to flow.
Meanwhile, in another hidden location.
The paper screens stood as silent silhouettes in the dimness, the only light source piercing the murky air below, illuminating a small void.
Several aged voices clashed in the darkness.
“Any definite news on that man who appeared in Shibuya?” One voice was as dry as rustling withered leaves.
“That girl from the Zen’in Family let slip… he’s a celebrity.” Another voice spoke slowly.
“Name?”
“Nero.”
“Background?”
“Can’t find anything. No cursed energy fluctuations on him. Normally… he’s just an ordinary person.”
“Ordinary person?” The third voice suddenly rose, sharp and piercing, “Megumi Fushiguro saw it with his own eyes! Mahoraga was sliced into meat paste by that guy! Kusakabe also reported that Sukuna couldn’t get the upper hand against him!”
“So what do you want?” The first voice asked.
“Recruit him?”
“Exorcise him?”
“Exorcise him? Ha!” The sharp voice was full of mockery, “Who’s going? Gojo Satoru is still cooped up in the prison realm! Or are you hoping you can beg Sukuna to make a move? Can he even do it?!”
The arguments swelled in the cramped darkness, like several vultures fighting over food. Just then, a deep voice, like an ancient bell, resonated, crushing everything:
“Enough!”
The voice wasn’t loud, but it carried immense weight, instantly silencing all the noise.
“Bickering like commoners.” The deep voice rebuked coldly, “Where is your status? Where is your demeanor?”
A dead silence fell in the darkness. Only the dust under the light source, unsettled, floated under the invisible pressure.
Under the dim light, the murky air seemed to solidify. That deep, aged voice crushed the silence, carrying an unquestionable authority:
“Regarding that ‘Nero,’” the voice paused, “send Zen’in Maki and Kento Nanami to make contact. As for Sukuna’s vessel and Gojo Satoru…”
The voice showed no emotional fluctuation, cold dispositions falling one by one:
“One, confirm the survival of Suguru Geto, and declare his death again.”
“Two, declare Gojo Satoru a co-conspirator in the Shibuya Incident, permanently expelling him from the Jujutsu World. Any attempt to unseal him will be treated as the same crime.”
“Three, determine Masamichi Yaga incited Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto to cause the incident, and sentence him to death.”
“Four, immediately execute Yuji Itadori.”
“Five, Yuta Okkotsu is responsible for executing Yuji Itadori.”
“Six, Zen’in Maki and Kento Nanami are responsible for contacting the variable of the Shibuya Incident — Nero.”
The last two words fell, like a cold stamp on an invisible verdict.
There was no sound in the darkness, the dust settled.
After a few slight movements of air, the gloom returned to complete silence. The decision had been made, no one responded, nor did anyone question it.
Execution was the only path.
