Chapter 155: Mahoraga: My Fists Want to Drink Blood (Patreon)

"Please awaken, Lord Sukuna."

The instant the finger slid down his throat, ominous black markings began spreading across Itadori Yuji's face, malice and cursed energy rising off him like steam.

"Tap, tap, tap..."

A brisk clatter of footsteps rang out, and Yorozu came sprinting around a corner not far from Mimiko and Nanako.

She skidded to a stop, her eyes sweeping quickly across the two girls, a faint edge of danger creeping into her voice.

"Now then..."

"How come I've never seen you two brats before?"

Her gaze then dropped to the body whose face was already crawling with those eerie black markings.

"What are you two up to with Sukuna?"

"How many fingers did you just feed this vessel?"

Faced with this dangerous woman who'd appeared out of nowhere, Nanako and Mimiko instinctively shrank back, but they still stubbornly shot back:

"Like we'd tell you!"

"Won't tell me?"

Yorozu let out an amused, irritated laugh.

With a sharp crack splitting the air, before Nanako and Mimiko could even manage a scream, a whip of coiled liquid metal had already lashed them into the wall beside them.

Rubble and dust buried them where they fell, their fates unknown.

"These two little brats really think they matter."

Yorozu pursed her lips, drawing the liquid metal back, rubbing her brow with a hint of exasperation.

"Ugh, honestly..."

"I really am no good at this whole 'controlling my emotions' thing."

She started walking again, approaching the unconscious Itadori Yuji, looking down at his face from above.

Black curse markings were spreading and interweaving across Itadori Yuji's skin, like some ancient, malevolent totem.

"Finally, this moment has come."

A thick excitement welled up in Yorozu's eyes.

She pulled a scroll from her pocket, fingers impatient as she undid the clasp, letting it unroll.

Inside, ten shriveled, twisted, deathly waxen fingers lay neatly arranged, radiating a horrifying aura.

Without a moment's hesitation, Yorozu roughly pried open Itadori Yuji's jaw and began stuffing the fingers one by one into his gaping mouth.

"Eat them, eat them quickly..."

she murmured under her breath, as though performing some kind of ritual.

As the fingers were swallowed one after another, the ominous aura pouring off Itadori Yuji's body grew steadily more intense.

Once she'd fed him the last finger, Yorozu tossed the now-empty scroll aside and cupped Itadori Yuji's face in both hands, studying it with keen interest.

The next instant, her pupils contracted sharply.

She yanked her hands back as if shocked by electricity, her whole body rocketing backward at an impossible speed.

Almost in the same moment, a great sheet of liquid metal rose up to form a shield in front of her.

"CLANG!"

A ringing clash of metal on metal burst through the air.

An invisible slash struck the liquid metal shield, carving a deep crack across its surface.

Had Yorozu retreated even half a second later, that slash would have cut through her body instead.

The air around them thickened, and a distant rumble seemed to be severed clean off by some unseen force.

A power different in nature from Gojo Satoru's, yet just as overwhelming!

An overpowering wickedness!

Merely being exposed to this aura would be enough to shatter an ordinary person's nerve completely.

The figure that had been lying on the ground rose to its feet, the face that always wore a bright, cheerful smile now sharp and menacing.

Itadori Yuji.

No—this was Ryomen Sukuna now.

Ryomen Sukuna opened his eyes, two pairs of mismatched irises locking coldly onto Yorozu nearby, his face etched with disdain.

"The first thing I see when I wake up is you, woman. What a way to ruin my mood."

Ryomen Sukuna raised a hand, dragging it through his hair with some irritation.

Yorozu peeked out from behind her metal shield, showing not a trace of fear—instead she stuck her tongue out at Sukuna and pulled a face.

"Hehe, sorry about that, you unromantic thing~"

She lowered the barrier, clasped her hands behind her back, and tilted her body slightly.

"But unfortunately, no matter how unwilling you are, guided by love, here we are, reunited once again after a thousand years."

Ryomen Sukuna rose to his feet, rolling his neck, and spoke coldly.

"A thousand years gone, and you still love talking to yourself, still love dressing up plain, mundane reality with all sorts of meaningless significance."

Hearing this, Yorozu's eyes lit up with alarming brightness.

She cupped her cheeks in both hands, wriggling her body over and over, and said with feigned shyness:

"Oh my!"

"You understand me that well? I'm so happy~"

Ryomen Sukuna: "..."

Watching Yorozu act out her little fit, Sukuna fell into a wordless silence for a moment.

His gaze swept the surroundings, and he took stock of the power now filling his body, then looked back at Yorozu.

"For the sake of the ten fingers, and the fact that my mood before I laid eyes on you was decent enough, I suppose I can forgive your overstepping just now."

"Now then, tell me..."

Ryomen Sukuna took a small step forward.

"Colluding with that disgusting creature Kenjaku, helping him seize temporary control of this body..."

"Yorozu, what is it you want?"

Before Yorozu could answer, a nearly tangible killing intent swiftly enveloped her.

"Consider this a warning," Ryomen Sukuna added, his voice ice-cold.

"Spout any more garbage that dirties my ears, and I'll kill you."

Faced with death looming right in front of her, Yorozu merely smiled and shook her head.

"Terrifying, isn't it~"

she said breezily, not taking the warning to heart in the slightest.

"Although I'd very much like it to be me who kills you, and just as much like it to be you who kills me, but..."

"But I'm not here today to challenge you."

Yorozu stared into Sukuna's crimson eyes, wagging a finger in the air.

"Not yet."

"You aren't complete yet. You haven't recovered the whole of yourself."

"I'll wait until you're truly whole..."

She licked her lips, dry from excitement.

"...before I let you taste what true 'love' really is."

Just then, a rustling sound came from the pile of rubble burying Nanako and Mimiko.

Heaps of concrete chunks shifted aside, and a moment later two sailor-uniformed figures rose unsteadily to their feet.

"Cough, cough... cough..."

Mimiko clutched her mouth, letting out a string of coughs.

Her long hair was matted messily against her cheeks, her uniform caked in dust and grime, but aside from looking a bit worse for wear, her limbs were entirely intact—not even a visible scrape on her.

Beside her, Nanako was the same, brushing the dust off her skirt with force, gasping for breath.

Seeing this, Yorozu couldn't help a flicker of surprise.

That lash a moment ago had been a careless flick on her part, sure, but its force was in no way something these two little girls should have been able to withstand.

Some special Cursed Technique?

Or did they already carry some kind of life-saving Cursed Tool?

Either way, that was the extent of the surprise these two could offer Yorozu.

Just a couple of unusually hardy bugs, nothing worth dwelling on.

Ignoring Yorozu's gaze entirely, Mimiko and Nanako, once steady on their feet, made straight for Ryomen Sukuna.

"Thud!"

Several steps from where Sukuna stood, the two of them dropped heavily to their knees, sliding the rest of the way on them until they reached his feet.

They pressed their foreheads to the cold ground, adopting a posture of utter, abject submission.

"...Lord Sukuna."

Nanako fought to keep the tremor out of her voice as she spoke.

"Down below there's a man with a stitched forehead, wearing monk's robes..."

"We beg you—kill that impostor, and free Lord Geto's soul."

Ryomen Sukuna let his gaze drop, bored out of his mind.

He hadn't actually listened to a word these two brats had said—he was simply watching, indifferently, as their bodies trembled.

"Oh?"

Sukuna gave a careless, noncommittal grunt.

Hearing that response, Nanako took it for interest and hurried to press on.

"If you're willing to do us this favor..."

"We know where another finger is. The moment that impostor is dead, we'll tell you its location right away—"

Before she could finish, the air around them plunged suddenly into cold.

Seeing this, Yorozu gave a silent shake of her head, her eyes full of mockery.

Two idiots.

The next instant, Ryomen Sukuna suddenly burst out laughing.

"Lift your heads."

he said softly, his voice unsettlingly gentle.

Mimiko and Nanako, trembling, lifted their faces, expressions full of eager hope.

"Fwip!"

A transparent afterimage flashed by, too fast for the eye to catch.

Nanako's face was still frozen in that hopeful expression when she felt something warm splash against the side of her cheek.

She slowly, blankly, turned her head.

Beside her, a clean, level cut had appeared across Mimiko's neck.

"Thump."

Blood gushed out, and Mimiko's head rolled to the ground.

Her headless body swayed, then slumped down soundlessly, dark red blood soaking into the pavement.

"Holding on to one or two measly fingers, and you thought that was leverage enough to bargain with me?"

Watching the pool of blood spread across the ground, the smile faded slowly from Sukuna's face, his voice filling with impatience.

"You dare to give me orders. How irritating."

"......"

The air fell into a brief, dead silence.

And then—

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

The feel of blood on her face finally jolted Nanako's frozen mind back into motion, and a piercing scream tore through the space.

She shook Mimiko's remains over and over, her body trembling uncontrollably from raw terror and rage.

"Mimiko..."

Fear and despair curdled, in that instant, into fury.

Nanako straightened abruptly, pulling out a phone, trembling hands gripping its frame, aiming the camera at Ryomen Sukuna.

"Drop dead—!"

"Shk-shk-shk-shk!"

What answered her was a barrage of slashes, countless times denser than before.

Before Nanako's words had even finished leaving her mouth, her head split cleanly in two.

In the next instant, her arms, torso, and legs were sliced apart by a crisscrossing net of blades.

Chunks of flesh and blood rained down in a dark red downpour, pattering across the surrounding ground.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk~"

Standing behind him, Yorozu let out an affectedly wistful sigh.

Looking at the carnage on the ground, she showed not a hint of discomfort—if anything, she stroked her own cheek as though admiring a work of art.

"No matter how many times I see it, your Cursed Technique is always so beautifully done."

"Though... it's a bit of a shame."

"Those two heads were rather cute. If someone kept them as decoration, they'd have made quite the nice ornament."

Ryomen Sukuna turned to look at the woman indulging in her own little fit, and suddenly recalled the mockery Uchiha Ayato had aimed at him not long ago.

He'd told Ayato the man was drowning himself in weak sentiment, that he'd lost the heart of a true strong man—and Ayato had told him he didn't understand at all.

"Yorozu."

Ryomen Sukuna rubbed his chin, his expression taking on a certain meaningful edge.

"You keep this word 'love' hanging off your tongue all the time. Do you honestly believe you understand what that so-called 'love' really is?"

Yorozu blinked, caught off guard that Sukuna would bring this up on his own.

She thought it over seriously for a moment, then shook her head lightly.

"Not to the point of really understanding it, no."

"This road has no end. I'm still on the path of learning."

"A true master always keeps the heart of a student."

"Is that so?"

Sukuna gave a scornful huff, contempt filling his eyes.

"I happen to know an interesting little brat."

"He's like you—fond of soaking himself in weak, pointless emotions."

He recalled everything he'd seen through Itadori Yuji's eyes.

"Every time I catch sight of him, there's a different woman at his side."

"Today it's this one, tomorrow it's another—like some insect flitting from flower to flower."

"Unlike you, though—all talk and no substance—that one actually has some real skill."

Ryomen Sukuna narrowed his eyes, his voice tinged with a rare note of admiration.

"That kid is strong. Not just in raw power—the pace at which he's growing is bizarre enough to startle even me."

"Sometimes, I even find myself wondering..."

"...whether that kid gets stronger simply by toying with women's feelings."

Yorozu stood there blankly, rapidly piecing together everything Sukuna had just described.

Someone who understood love.

Someone possessing strength even Sukuna acknowledged.

Could he possibly be talking about that brat Uchiha Ayato?

But then...

A different woman at his side every time?

Yorozu's expression began to shift through a spectacular range of emotions.

She'd once believed Uchiha Ayato, a man who possessed love and understood it, to be some paragon of devoted, pure-hearted romance—only to find out he was actually a two-timing scumbag with a foot in multiple boats?

"Ptooey!"

Yorozu couldn't help spitting to the side, her face twisting as though she'd swallowed a fly.

"A scumbag who toys with women's feelings—absolutely disgusting!"

She composed her expression and looked at Ryomen Sukuna, puzzled.

"So? What is it you're trying to tell me by bringing up this stomach-turning trash?"

Ryomen Sukuna stretched his arms out, his tone flat.

"No particular meaning."

"Just a reminder—if you ever feel like lecturing me pointlessly again in the future..."

"...you'd better at least match that kid's strength first."

"Well then, enough chit-chat."

Ryomen Sukuna clapped the dust from his hands, his tone turning gleeful.

"After sleeping so long, it's rare I get to come out and stretch my legs. Might as well enjoy myself properly."

"Those humans out there, swarming around like maggots—they'll make fine entertainment."

He shot Yorozu a sidelong glance, his gaze turning dangerous.

"I'm going to wipe out everyone in Shibuya. You'd best stay put and not move."

"All of them are my prey. If you try to steal even one, I'll kill you on the spot."

Yorozu, too, had once been a wanton killer who treated human lives as worthless as grass.

Back in the Heian era a thousand years ago, faced with an opportunity for wholesale slaughter like this, she'd have gleefully ignored the warning and tagged along without a second thought, savoring the wails of ordinary people for her own amusement.

But now, Yorozu just kept backing away, shaking her head like a rattle drum.

"No, no, that's fine."

She waved her hands, a stiff smile plastered on her face.

"Taking lives on a whim really is a delightful thing, sure, but if I kill too many, I might end up the one getting killed."

That annoying brat was watching her from somewhere, wasn't he? What if he caught her doing something he could hold against her?

That was a losing trade she had no interest in making.

Ryomen Sukuna: "?"

Watching Yorozu shrink away like this, Sukuna's brow furrowed slightly.

Given how well he thought he knew this woman, such uncharacteristic timidity was genuinely hard to understand.

But he had no interest in digging into a woman's thoughts.

"Fine, then."

Ryomen Sukuna strode off, heading outside.

………………………………………………

Shibuya, atop the Cerulean Tower.

Watching Yorozu's oddly cautious little act, Uchiha Ayato couldn't help but laugh.

Come to think of it—why had Kashimo Hajime run off the moment he'd seen from a distance that Yorozu had revived Sukuna?

Didn't even say goodbye.

Talk about committing fully to avoiding a fight.

Big Sister Yorozu spends her whole life being careful; Little Sister Kashimo never loses her head over important matters.

And also...

[Lifetime Quest: The Great Sage — Guide Uzumaki Naruto to become a Kage-level power. Reward: Tailed Beast · Nine-Tails (juvenile)]

Uchiha Ayato took stock of the cursed energy currently coursing through Itadori Yuji's body.

Not counting the finger already sealed inside him from before, the total cursed energy from the fifteen fingers had now fully met the System's assessment standard for Kage-level.

All it would take now was a couple lines of Talk-no-Jutsu on Itadori, and he could pocket that power bank nice and neatly.

"Well then, this little field trip should probably wrap up."

Uchiha Ayato patted the back of Wakaba Mutsumi's hand, signaling her to relax.

Now that the uncontrollable bomb that was Ryomen Sukuna had been let loose, the whole nature of the Shibuya situation had changed.

Uncle Ayato couldn't bear to send his people to fight Sukuna.

The crowds had, for the most part, already evacuated. It was time to pull everyone out of Shibuya.

Oh right—he might as well check in on how that father-son duel with Fushiguro Megumi was going.

He'd been so busy watching the women fight that he hadn't checked whether Fushiguro Toji, after recognizing his own son, would actually go easy on him. In theory Fushiguro Megumi should be doing fine.

But when his vision cut through the layers of obstruction and locked onto Fushiguro Megumi's location, Uchiha Ayato froze on the spot.

Uchiha Ayato: "?"

In his field of view was a Curse User with a blond ponytail and strange markings under his eyes, gripping a bizarre short blade, an ugly, twisted grin on his face.

That was...

Shigemo Haruta?

Wait, why was this guy still alive?

Uchiha Ayato had assumed that man had died back at the Exchange Event between sister schools.

That had been Uncle Ayato's own Lightning Release: Kirin!

Even if Shigemo Haruta had only been caught in the periphery, the shockwave alone from Kirin should have been enough to reduce a third-rate Curse User like him to ash.

And yet somehow he'd survived, completely unscathed, all the way to now?

Even more absurd, this guy was currently stabbing Fushiguro Megumi in the back.

The mechanics of this guy's Cursed Technique really were something else...

Of course, the situation was also partly Fushiguro Megumi's own fault.

…………………

Dogenzaka, in front of Shibuya 109 department store.

Fushiguro Megumi was covered in blood, gasping in heavy, ragged breaths.

With every inhale, his lungs spasmed with pain, as though pierced by countless needles.

It was absurd.

Everything that had just happened felt like some nonsensical nightmare.

That man had attacked him for no reason at all, holding back at every turn, cornering him like a cat toying with a mouse.

Then, after Fushiguro had gone all-in on a desperate trade of wounds, the man had suddenly asked, out of nowhere, "What's your name?"

After hearing the answer—"Fushiguro"—the man had simply driven his own Playful Cloud straight through his own skull, dropping dead right in front of him.

Fushiguro Megumi gave his head, growing heavy from blood loss, a hard shake.

This wasn't the time to puzzle over that madman's motives. He needed to get to the ground-level rally point as fast as possible, find Shoko, and get treated...

"Shhk—"

The sound of a blade slicing through flesh rang out with terrible clarity in the dead-silent street.

Fushiguro Megumi's body went rigid, a stabbing pain lancing through his back.

"That's right! Exactly like that!"

Shigemo Haruta kept his blade raised, mid-swing, and spoke with excitement.

"This kind of easy pickings is exactly the job that suits me best!"

Fushiguro Megumi staggered forward, blood dripping steadily from his body onto the concrete.

"You're strong for someone so young, just like that girl earlier~"

Shigemo Haruta rested the blade on his shoulder, speaking with malicious relish.

"Beaten black and blue all over, and you still won't show me an opening. Impossible to get near."

"But with this much blood loss, even if I don't do a thing more..."

Before he could finish, Fushiguro Megumi collapsed face-first to the ground.

Sprawled on the ground, his vision beginning to blur, Fushiguro Megumi could feel what little cursed energy remained in him draining away rapidly along with the blood.

He couldn't move.

Couldn't even summon Divine Dogs.

Was he really going to die here, at the hands of some worthless coward who only knew how to ambush people?

No.

He still had that.

The Subjugation ritual could be performed by multiple people—it just meant that a subjugation performed collectively would lose its effect afterward.

In other words, for the sorcerer himself, this kind of ritual would ultimately be meaningless.

But even so, meaningless or not, it would still serve its purpose here.

Fushiguro Megumi slowly lifted his head, looking at Shigemo Haruta's face, twisted with anticipation of the kill, and pulled his mouth into a smile, cold to the point of madness.

He didn't try to force himself upright—he simply clasped his hands together in front of him, forming what looked like an ordinary opening stance.

He was going to summon the one monster that, throughout the entire history of the Ten Shadows sorcerers, no one but Uchiha Ayato had ever completed the Subjugation of and lived.

"Furube..."

The smile froze on Shigemo Haruta's face, an instinctive shiver crawling over his entire body.

"...Yura Yura."

Fushiguro Megumi spoke the last syllables.

"Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga."

Thick darkness surged up from the shadow beneath Fushiguro Megumi, spreading in an instant to blanket the entire space.

The afterimages of the other Ten Shadows shikigami lined up like courtiers paying homage to a king.

A towering, mountain-like figure rose slowly out of the darkness, a formation array bearing an eight-handled sword hovering above its head.

Watching Shigemo Haruta's pupils blow wide with terror, Fushiguro Megumi mustered his last strength, tilted his chin up, and said with a mocking edge:

"I'll go on ahead and die..."

"You do your best, now."

"Hmmm—"

At the very same moment Fushiguro Megumi began the Subjugation ritual, the shadow behind Uchiha Ayato suddenly began seething.

It felt like a beast caged up that had just caught the scent of one of its own kind stepping into its territory, desperate for the gate to open so it could tear into it.

Uchiha Ayato looked down at the black shadow rippling and stretching before him, tilting his head slightly in surprise.

"If you want to go, then go ahead."

He granted Mahoraga's request.

Mahoraga stepped out of the shadow, walking soundlessly up to Uchiha Ayato before kneeling on one knee.

Wakaba Mutsumi, who had been leaning against Uchiha Ayato, poked her head up curiously, staring unblinking at this white-haired girl who had suddenly appeared before them.

She could tell that beneath the seemingly delicate frame of this girl slumbered a power capable of leveling the entire city with ease.

"Sensing the presence of one of your own kind got you excited, is that it?"

Uchiha Ayato tilted his head to look at Mahoraga, speaking with genuine interest.

"Mahoraga, are your fists thirsty for blood too?"

Uchiha Ayato had expected Mahoraga to simply nod in response, as she always did.

But instead...

"Yes, Master."

A clear, composed feminine voice, with little inflection of emotion, reached his ears.

Uchiha Ayato: "?"

Uchiha Ayato's eyes went wide as he looked down at Mahoraga's face, the upper half still veiled in black cloth, astonishment written all over his own.

"You..."

"Did you just... speak?"

Mahoraga remained kneeling on one knee, and the small golden formation array atop her head let out a faint click, rotating by a small increment.

"Yes."

She raised her head, every word crystal clear.

"Through the long span of time spent waiting for your orders, I have continued adapting to everything I am capable of adapting to—and so I have adapted to 'language' as a means of communication."

"If this displeases my Master, I will remain silent again and refrain from acting on my own initiative from now on."

"Ha..."

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Uchiha Ayato broke into a hearty, delighted laugh.

So this was the pinnacle of the Ten Shadows Technique.

A self-learning Mahoraga—left to her own devices, she'd find something to do all on her own.

"I'm very pleased."

Uchiha Ayato waved a hand at the girl, turning his gaze back to the area below, soon to become an inferno.

"Since you're interested in the commotion over there, go on then."

"Have fun."

"As you command."

The words had barely left her lips before Mahoraga's figure dissolved into the air like a bubble bursting.