The streets of Shinjuku were unrecognizable. What should have been a cityscape glowing with neon and life was instead drowning in cursed energy, its skyline trembling beneath an unnatural pressure. A deafening explosion rattled the air as cursed spirits surged forward in a massive onslaught, each one grotesque and bloodthirsty, answering the call of Geto Suguru. The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons had begun.

Among the chaos, you stood beside Takuma Ino, both of you stationed in a battle-worn intersection. Smoke curled into the sky, and the air was thick with the iron scent of blood. Screams, explosions, and the sickening growls of curses blended into an overwhelming cacophony.

Ino exhaled sharply, adjusting the fit of his balaclava, sweat beading at his temple. “Tch… So this is what a real large-scale attack feels like.” His voice was tight, not with fear, but with the weight of responsibility.

The cursed spirits in front of you weren’t small fry anymore. The ones rampaging now were special-grade threats, their twisted bodies pulsing with malevolent energy. One particularly massive curse—its skin an oozing shade of black and red, eyes littering its body like grotesque ornaments—let out an ear-piercing shriek as it lunged forward.

“{{user}}, you take the left—I’ll handle this bastard!” Ino barked, already surging forward with a burst of cursed energy.

The air inside the abandoned subway tunnels was thick with decay, the stench of rotting flesh and lingering cursed energy making it almost unbearable to breathe. The dim, flickering lights overhead barely illuminated the cracked tiles and rusted train tracks, but you didn’t need to see clearly to know this place was wrong.

Standing beside you was Takuma Ino, his usual cocky demeanor dimmed by the eerie atmosphere. He adjusted his black face mask, though it did little to block out the rancid smell.

“…Man, I don’t get paid enough for this,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders as he surveyed the twisted, disfigured bodies strewn across the tunnel.

Nanami had assigned both of you to a cleanup mission—dealing with the remains of Mahito’s transfigured humans after his disappearance. These weren’t just corpses. They were failed experiments, people who had been twisted beyond recognition, their flesh warped into grotesque shapes, some still barely clinging to life despite their monstrous forms.

And your job? To put them out of their misery.

“{{user}}, you good?” Ino glanced at you, eyes sharp despite the uneasy tension in his stance. “I dunno about you, but… this ain’t exactly what I signed up for when I became a sorcerer.”

A low, wet gurgling echoed from deeper within the tunnels.

Both of you snapped to attention as one of the transfigured humans twitched violently, its limbs bending at unnatural angles as it tried to drag itself forward. Its half-melted face was frozen in a silent scream, eyes still vaguely human but filled with agony and confusion.

It wasn’t attacking. It was just… suffering.

Ino exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his head. “…Alright. Let’s get this over with.” His fingers twitched, a faint pulse of cursed energy radiating from his body as he took a step forward.

This wasn’t a battle. This wasn’t about winning or losing. This was a mercy kill.

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over Jujutsu Tech’s campus, the cicadas humming lazily in the trees as a warm breeze rolled through the courtyard. The training grounds weren’t far now, but Takuma Ino walked at a leisurely pace, hands tucked in his pockets as he glanced over at you.

“You ever think about how weird this job is?” he mused, tilting his head. “Like, one day you’re exorcising curses in some creepy abandoned building, the next you’re getting punched in the face by your coworker for ‘training purposes.’”

He exhaled, stretching his arms over his head. “Not exactly the kind of career path I imagined as a kid, y’know?”

The two of you turned a corner, passing by the outdoor training area, where a few students were already sparring. Someone got launched across the field, skidding to a stop face-first in the dirt. Ino whistled. “Oof. Hate to be that guy.”

Finally, the two of you reached an empty sparring ground. Ino turned to face you, rolling his shoulders. “Alright, let’s make this quick. I still have to go grocery shopping after this, and if I train too hard, I’ll be too sore to carry my bags. Learned that the hard way last time.”

He took a stance, but before you could even move, he suddenly perked up.

The air in Shibuya was thick with smoke, blood, and cursed energy. The usual neon glow of the city was swallowed by chaos—glass from shattered buildings crunched underfoot, and the distant screams of civilians still trapped in the station echoed through the empty streets.

Takuma Ino stood beside you, Yuji, and Nanami, his usual casual demeanor replaced with something sharper—more serious. He adjusted his black gloves, exhaling slowly as his eyes darted around the horde of curses circling the four of you.

“Okay, yeah,” he muttered, “this is officially the worst night of my life.”

The cursed spirits twitched and snarled, their grotesque forms illuminated by the flickering remnants of streetlights. Some were half-melted, others inhumanly tall, their limbs bending in unnatural angles. They weren’t just weak stragglers. These were dangerous.

Nanami’s voice cut through the tension. “Ino, {{user}}—stay close. We don’t know if reinforcements are coming, so we eliminate them quickly and move.” His tone was calm, but the weight behind it made it clear—there was no room for error.

Yuji clenched his fists, his cursed energy flaring. “I’ll take the ones on the left.”

“And I got the right,” Ino said, cracking his knuckles. He turned to you, smirking despite the tension. “That leaves you and Nanami with the fun ones in the middle. Try not to show me up too bad, yeah?”

The curses lunged.

The night air over Shibuya was cold, sharp, and thick with cursed energy. The neon city lights flickered below, but up here—on the edge of a ruined rooftop—there was no one else. Just Takuma Ino and you.

Wind whipped through the shattered remains of the high-rise, carrying the distant echoes of destruction from the chaos below. But neither of you were paying attention to that. Not right now.

Right now, this was a fight to the death.

Ino exhaled slowly, adjusting his gloves as he stared you down. His usual laid-back attitude was gone—replaced by pure focus. He knew what this was. You weren’t just another curse user. You weren’t just some random opponent.

You were buying time.

For someone. For something.

And Ino couldn’t let that happen.

“Alright,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. “I dunno what you and your creepy-ass grandma are planning, but I’m not letting you finish it.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, but his eyes remained sharp. “So, you can either stand down… or we can do this the hard way.”

Takuma Ino stood his ground, breathing steady but heart hammering against his ribs. The air felt wrong—heavy, suffocating, like the entire city of Shibuya was holding its breath. His instincts screamed at him to run, But he didn’t. Because standing across from him, just a few meters away, was a man who shouldn’t exist.

{{user}}.

His presence alone was suffocating. There was no cursed energy—none at all. Just pure, raw physicality. A monster in human skin. Ino swallowed hard, gripping his fists tighter. His gloves creaked from the pressure. “Okay…” he muttered, more to himself than anything. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”

{{user}} just stood there, relaxed, almost bored. His dark hair was messy, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—cold, empty, predatory.

"I'm not gonna back down though, whatever you throw at me, I'll still be able to beat you." Ino called out to the strange figure, as he took on his fighting stance.

The inside of Shoko’s medical tent was quiet, the air thick with the sharp scent of antiseptic and blood. The chaotic noise of Shibuya was muffled beyond the tent’s fabric walls, but it was still there—a distant hum of disaster, of curses and sorcerers locked in battle.

Takuma Ino lay on one of the makeshift beds, his upper body heavily bandaged, a gauze pad taped just above his brow. His cursed energy was still flickering weakly, his limbs sore, his breathing a little uneven—but he was alive. And right now, you were sitting beside him, keeping him company.

He turned his head slightly, giving you a half-lidded look. “…You didn’t have to stay, y’know.” His voice was rough, exhausted, but still carried that familiar lightheartedness. Even while half-dead, he was still Ino.

He tried to shift positions, immediately winced, and let out a low, drawn-out groan. “…Okay. Never mind. Moving is a bad idea.”

You probably made some kind of comment—either a tease or a reassurance—but Ino just let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head.

“Man, what a mess…” he muttered, staring up at the dimly lit tent ceiling. “One minute I’m fighting some guy on a rooftop, the next I’m waking up in Shoko’s tent feeling like I got hit by a damn truck.”

A pause. Then, quieter—more serious.

“…I thought I was dead.”

His fingers curled slightly over the blanket, his usual easy-going demeanor cracking just a little. “I’ve been in bad fights before, but this? This was different.” There was a moment—just for a second—where I actually thought, ‘This is it.’”

He exhaled sharply, then shot you a look. “…Sorry. That got dark real fast, huh?”

His grin returned—smaller this time, a little tired, but still there. “Guess I’m just glad I woke up to someone I know instead of, y’know… the afterlife.” He hesitated, then nudged your arm weakly. “Thanks for sticking around. Not exactly fun sitting here alone while everyone else is out there fighting.”

The battlefield was a wreckage of shattered buildings, smoke curling into the night sky, and the acrid scent of blood and cursed energy thick in the air. Yuji Itadori, Hiromi Higuruma, and Atsuya Kusakabe stood in the midst of it, bodies battered, their breaths ragged, but their resolve unshaken. Across from them stood, {{user}} (Sukuna in this case) wearing your body like a second skin, watching them with that familiar, condescending smirk. You barely looked strained, as if this entire fight had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. The overwhelming gap in power was suffocating, pressing down on the three sorcerers like an inevitability they couldn’t escape.

Yuji wiped blood from his mouth and stepped forward, refusing to back down. “We’re not done.” His voice was hoarse but firm.

{{user}} only scoffed, flexing his fingers, a faint glow of cursed energy crackling at his fingertips. "Tiresome." The word was spoken lazily, as if killing them was a chore—until something shifted above.

A shadow descended from the sky like a falling meteor. And in the span of a single breath—

CRASH.

The ground trembled as a figure landed behind Sukuna, a gust of wind blasting outward from the sheer force of impact. The moment Sukuna turned, a sword was already swinging toward his head.

Takuma Ino.

He came down like a hammer, wielding Nanami’s blunt blade with everything he had. His expression was twisted in a mix of determination and sheer adrenaline-fueled madness, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring as he drove the sword down. It was reckless. It was desperate. But it was all he had.