After Toji disappeared into the haze, leaving only silence behind.
Until the sound of crackling returned.
Faint at first—then louder. A hiss. A pop. Like something burning.
Smoke curled upward from Naoya's body.
But it wasn't from fire.
It was from healing.
His wounds—deep, ragged, and fatal—began to close. Slowly. Violently. Threads of cursed energy stitched through torn muscle, fused shattered bone, rebuilt what had been destroyed. The air shimmered around him like a mirage, heat rolling off his skin.
Naoya Zenin was alive.
Because he had done it.
He had learned Reverse Cursed Technique.
Just raw survival instinct.
After entering the Zone, after dancing on the edge of oblivion, Naoya had directed everything—his cursed energy, his consciousness, his will—into a single point:
Live.
Not because life itself mattered.
But because Reverse Cursed Technique was the key.
It had always been the goal.
Coming here. Challenging Toji. Risking death.
All of it—just to unlock this.
Because in Naoya's mind, there was no in-between.
If he failed? Then he'd die. And that was fine.
Better to die chasing power than live watching someone else rise without him.
Now, blood clung to his ruined uniform, sticky and half-dried. He looked down, sighed.
"Second time I'll be requesting a new uniform," Naoya muttered, brushing debris from his shoulders like it was dust on a blazer.
Then he walked—slow, deliberate, steady—toward someone who had fallen before he did.
…
Naoya now bare footed crunched through the battlefield's wreckage - past uprooted trees, across earth scorched black by cursed energy, stepping over the remains of shattered barriers without breaking stride. The destruction formed a perfect path leading to his destination.
There, sprawled in a crater , lay Gojo Satoru. Arms outstretched as if making snow angels in the dirt, his Glasses gone, those infamous Six Eyes are a little different now, staring unfocused at the sky.
Naoya's shadow fell across the fallen sorcerer. "Not dead yet? How disappointing."
When no response came, he crouched down, tilting his head like a child examining a broken toy. "Do you even know who just humiliated you?" A chuckle. "Of course you don't."
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Toji Zenin. A disgraced member of my clan." A pause. "Funny, isn't it? The great Gojo Satoru, always bested by someone with 'Zenin' in their name."
The breeze carried the scent of burning wood and copper. Somewhere distant, a tree limb cracked and fell.
Gojo spoke, his voice drifting, dreamlike.
"The world... is too beautiful right now, Naoya."
Naoya froze.
For a heartbeat, he just stared. Then—
He smiled.
"Amanai Riko died," he added, casual as discussing the weather.
Nothing.
No reaction. No flicker in those hollow eyes. No tension in those slack features.
Just... silence.
Naoya exhaled, straightening.
"Well," he mused to himself, "that should guarantee his awakening."
Then he turned, barefoot, crunching over splintered earth and ash. One step at a time, he moved toward the next stage.
…
Elsewhere, Toji Fushiguro stood before the high priest of the Star Religious Group.
Before he could speak, the priest raised a hand and smiled with unsettling calm. "We examined the corpse and confirmed the death of the Star Plasma Vessel. Don't worry—you'll receive your payment shortly."
Then, without waiting for a response, the priest turned and vanished.
Toji blinked.
What?
His brow twitched slightly as his fingers subconsciously grazed the cursed spirit pouch hanging around his body. He was sure the girl's body was still in there—unharmed, untouched, waiting.
"…The hell?" he muttered low.
"Excellent work, Sorcerer Killer," the suited man beside him—his usual contact—remarked with a polite nod, though his eyes lingered on Toji's confusion with keen interest.
Toji didn't respond. He just stared after the priest, something cold gnawing at the edge of his instincts.
Something wasn't right.
But…
"…Whatever," he muttered, turning away. If the check cleared, he didn't care.
For now.
…
After a brief exchange with his usual partner—cut short when they went their separate ways—he turned to leave. But the moment he took another step, something caught his eye. His gaze froze on a figure, blood dripping from their body, staggering toward him, the image almost surreal under the heavy sun. His eyes narrowed, and then, in an almost distant tone, he muttered, "Huh?"
The figure was all too familiar.
"Yooo," a voice called, and Toji's breath caught in his chest. He blinked, then scoffed.
"It's been a while."
Gojo Satoru stood there, completely unfazed, grinning like a maniac.
"For real?" Toji muttered, disbelief etched across his face.
"For rea real. I'm alive and kicking," Gojo lifted his hair, revealing a healed wound that had once pierced through his brain.
Toji's annoyance surged. "Reverse Cursed Technique," he muttered, irritation coloring his tone as he quickly pieced it together.
"Bingo!" Gojo replied, his smile stretching even further. "When you stabbed me in the throat, I gave up on counterattacking and poured all my focus into the Reverse Cursed Technique."
Toji's brow furrowed, absorbing the words with a skeptical glance.
"Cursed energy is negative energy, while it can enhance the body, it can't regenerate it," Gojo continued, excitement thick in his voice. "so you multiply that negative energy against itself to create positive energy!"
"That's the Reverse Cursed Technique."
Toji grimaced as Gojo raised his hand, almost psychotic in his glee. "Easier said than done. I couldn't even do it until now. Couldn't understand a damn thing the one person who could do it was saying!" Gojo's voice rose, the crazed energy in his words unmistakable.
"this guy... is high?" Toji mused, watching Gojo's maniacal smile grow with every word.
"But I finally grasped it, on the verge of death! THE TRUE ESSENCE OF CURSED ENERGY!" Gojo shouted, his laugh echoing, as if the entire concept had finally clicked in his warped mind.
Gojo continued, unfazed. "The reason you're going to lose is because you didn't chop my head off, and because you didn't use that cursed tool when you stabbed me in the head."
Toji met Gojo's gaze, a cold amusement settling in. "I'm going to lose?" he questioned, his grip tightening on the inverted spear of heaven from his inventory.
Toji smirked, the words hanging in the air as he stared at Gojo. No, he had no real reason to fight Gojo right now. He wasn't here for some moral vendetta, nor did he have a real stake in this. Money was his motivator. Yet, despite that, something held him in place. Something deep inside refused to walk away from this encounter.
The battle wasn't over. It was just beginning.
"Our fight is just getting started," Toji said, his lips curling into a smirk, a dark gleam in his eye.
Gojo tilted his head back, staring into the sky, a far-off look in his eyes. "Oh? Is it? Yeah... You're right... YOU'RE SO RIGHT."
Gojo's eyes flashed with excitement, the air around them crackling as the two prepared for a clash that neither could fully predict.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the tension like a knife.
"Sorry I'm late—had to grab the mood and kill it,"