Chapter 156: Mahoraga: Let's Go Together (Patreon)

Shibuya.

The edge of the Curtain.

Uika Misumi knelt on the asphalt, littered with broken rubble and streaks of water, cradling a little girl of about seven or eight in her arms.

The girl trembled without pause against her chest, her heart-rending sobs echoing into the night sky. Filth and dust had ruined what had once been a cute pink dress.

"It's okay..."

"You're safe now..."

Uika's voice was soft, its gentleness enough to soothe the rawest panic.

She didn't try to stop the girl's crying. She simply kept smoothing her hand over the girl's back, again and again.

In tonight's chaos, a family of three had been attacked by a wandering cursed spirit.

The girl's parents were just an ordinary couple, with no way to fight back when the cursed spirit came for them.

But in that final moment, they'd chosen without hesitation to shield their daughter with their own fragile bodies, buying her a chance at survival until Uika arrived to save her.

Uika had made short work of the low-grade cursed spirit, but its dissolution couldn't undo what had already been done to the two shattered bodies it left behind.

Uika lowered her head, looking with pity at the girl in her arms, who was crying so hard she'd started to dry-heave from grief.

She knew perfectly well that no amount of comforting words would mean much to a child who had just lost her entire world.

The girl had watched her parents die in front of her, in the most horrific way imaginable. For countless nights to come, nightmares would likely hound her.

Dreams full of the cursed spirit's rank, wheezing breath, of blood pooling across the ground, and worst of all, of her parents' faces—twisted with terror, yet still throwing themselves forward without hesitation for their daughter's sake.

What would this child come to think, in the days ahead?

Would she believe she'd been a burden to her parents?

Would she sink into a crushing guilt for having survived, maybe even come to hate herself for it?

Uika lowered her eyes, a strand of hair brushing against the girl's shoulder.

Probably, yes.

After all, even Uika herself, because of her own wretched family history, had once spent a long stretch of her life mired in that same self-loathing.

That agony—the belief that she was unwanted, that she didn't deserve happiness—had clung to her like a disease in the bone, gnawing at her from the inside without rest.

Uika understood that pain wasn't something you could weigh against another person's on a scale.

But still, she felt certain that whatever this girl was living through right now went far beyond anything she herself had once suffered.

In that moment, Uika suddenly, truly understood the words Uchiha Ayato had once said to her—

Everything short of death is just a scratch.

Only now, having faced the brutal reality of life and death head-on, did she grasp the resilience buried beneath that line.

As long as you're alive, no matter how many scars you carry, no matter how heavy the memories weigh on you, you have to keep moving forward.

No matter how thin and powerless words might feel, she had to say something.

Uika raised her hand and gently wiped the tears and grime from the girl's face with her sleeve.

"Don't be scared. And don't think this was your fault."

Looking into the girl's red, swollen eyes, Uika spoke softly.

"Your mom and dad protected you with everything they had, because more than anything else in the world, they wanted you to keep living, and live well."

"If you stay this sad forever, if you start hating yourself, they'll be sad too, watching from up in the sky."

Maybe it was the sheer, almost otherworldly beauty of Uika's face that carried some calming power, or maybe it was the gentleness radiating from her that drove back the cold pressing in around them—but little by little, the girl's wailing quieted.

Sniffling, she looked up at the older girl she'd so often seen on television, her eyes swollen from crying, and asked in halting words:

"Big sister..."

"Do miracles... really happen, in this world?"

Uika's hand paused for a moment at the question.

Miracles.

On a night like this, soaked in curses and despair, the word sounded impossibly hollow.

But Uika let no trace of insincerity show on her face.

She turned her head, her gaze sweeping past the ruined, war-torn streets toward the distant lights of Minato Ward.

Somewhere in that direction lay Uchiha Ayato, and the warm home he and the others shared.

For Uika, being able to leave that remote island, being able to meet Saki again, being able to encounter someone like Uchiha Ayato at the most lost and helpless point in her life—someone willing to light her way and give her a place to belong...

Meeting him had, in itself, been the single greatest miracle of her life.

Uika drew her gaze back, her eyes brimming with a soft warmth.

She looked at the little girl again, offering a reassuring smile, and answered in a voice full of certainty:

"Yes."

"Miracles are real."

"And it will find you, at exactly the right moment."

Uika patted the girl's shoulder gently.

"And all you need to do is live hard enough, and long enough, for both yourself and for your mom and dad."

"Keep your spirits up. Live each day the best you can. And then..."

"Get ready to meet your miracle when it comes. Okay?"

The girl stared at her blankly for a long moment. Then, at last, she sniffled hard and nodded.

Not far off, a support supervisor had already come running over, preparing to move the last group of surviving civilians to a safe shelter.

The girl followed behind one of the staff members, glancing back at Uika again and again with every step.

Just before turning the corner, she lifted a hand and waved goodbye to Uika.

Uika raised her own hand and smiled, waving back.

She watched the vehicle carrying the ordinary civilians vanish into the sea of neon lights before finally lowering her hand.

With that, every ordinary civilian inside the Curtain had been safely evacuated.

Her task complete, Uika let out a long breath.

She rubbed her aching wrist, a little worn out, and prepared to go find the others.

Just then, the sound of clapping cut through the air behind her.

"Clap. Clap. Clap."

The applause came slow and deliberate, unusually loud in the dead-silent, empty street.

Uika's heart clenched. Thinking it might be some stray Curse User or a humanoid cursed spirit that had slipped through, she spun around at once, on guard.

By the dim glow of a distant streetlamp, she made out the figure approaching.

It was a young man, built like a bear, his hair pulled up into a topknot.

He clapped as he strode toward her in long steps, his face full of emotion, looking like he might burst into tears at any moment.

A few steps behind the burly man trailed a blond young man in a black tailcoat, his face a picture of pure exasperation.

Where the first man overflowed with feeling, the blond one looked like he wanted to find a hole in the ground and crawl into it.

The burly man stopped about five steps from Uika.

He drew in a deep breath, roughly wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, and spoke in a voice heavy with solemnity:

"To give hope to those in the depths of despair, to light up someone else's darkness with your own—"

"Uika of sumimi, what you just did is worthy of the true name of an idol!"

"I admit it!"

The man pounded his own chest hard.

"Shining as you are, right now, on this ravaged battlefield—you've genuinely edged out Takada-chan!"

Uika froze in place, her eyes widening slightly.

Before she could even decide whether this man was friend or foe, he suddenly pivoted, his gaze turning sharp:

"But!"

"That still doesn't change the fact that Takada-chan topped last week's Oricon weekly singles chart!"

Uika: "...?"

Who even was this guy?

Judging by the aura around him, he was definitely a Jujutsu Sorcerer.

But...

The otaku energy radiating off him was way too strong.

And also...

Takada-chan?

Uika dug through her memory for a while before it finally clicked.

Ah, he meant that tall girl, Takada?

Takada had actually made it to number one on the weekly chart?

That was genuinely something to be happy about. A bright future ahead, then.

Since this whole month had basically been nonstop intensive rehearsals for Ave Mujica, and since she'd already been intent on stepping away from the idol identity, Uika had barely kept up with the entertainment industry's chart rankings.

So naturally, she'd had no idea she'd already lost, entirely without her knowledge, the most important "battle" of her career.

Ha, honestly, how was a two-song idol duo like sumimi ever supposed to hold onto the top of the charts anyway?

Just as Uika was working through this internal monologue, the blond young man trailing behind the burly man shuffled forward as well.

He gave Uika a slightly awkward bow, his voice tight with nerves.

"Um, that is..."

"Hello, Miss Uika. My name is Nitta Arata."

"Actually, I'm a fan of sumimi. It's an honor to meet you here."

A fan?

Looking at the two of them—a genuinely bizarre pairing—Uika laughed helplessly.

"Thank you for your support."

She shook her head, her expression turning serious.

"It's dangerous here right now. Even if you're both Jujutsu Sorcerers, you absolutely can't let your guard down."

"The civilians should all be evacuated by now, so you two should get out of here as soon as you can too."

At that, Aoi Todo spread his mouth into a confident grin.

"Dangerous?"

"The more dangerous the place, the more it's a real man's battlefield!"

"Besides, I still need to go find my brother and fight alongside him."

"It's you who should be leaving, Miss Uika."

Todo paused, his eyes sharpening.

"The fact that you have jujutsu talent honestly surprised me."

"And you've saved this many ordinary people tonight. That's an act of tremendous merit."

"But the battlefield ahead of us isn't a place for an idol."

Uika understood he meant well, but she still shook her head gently.

"I can't leave yet."

She turned her gaze toward the direction she'd come from, her expression soft but resolute.

"I have to wait for everyone."

"If we're leaving, we're leaving together."

"Everyone?"

Todo and Nitta exchanged a glance, both a little confused.

Before either of them could voice the question, a somewhat scattered sound of running footsteps suddenly came from the far end of the street.

Uika turned toward the sound, and her eyes lit up instantly.

There, Togawa Sakiko, Sumita Mana, and Wakaba Mutsumi were hurrying toward her.

Leading the group was Togawa Sakiko, her hair slightly disheveled, dust covering her clothes.

Seeing that Uika was safe and unharmed, a look of relief bloomed across Sakiko's face.

"Hatsu-chan—!"

Right behind her, Sumita Mana waved her arms excitedly, practically bounding over with happiness.

Wakaba Mutsumi walked last, and when her gaze met Uika's, the faintest smile touched the corner of her mouth as she gave Uika a small nod.

Watching this, both Todo and Nitta were struck with genuine shock.

Aside from the blue-haired girl who seemed to give off no cursed energy signature at all, the other two were also Jujutsu Sorcerers—and powerful ones, at that.

What was going on here?

How had Tokyo suddenly produced this many powerful, unaffiliated Jujutsu Sorcerers out of nowhere?

Sakiko walked up to Uika and looked her over carefully, head to toe.

"You're not hurt, are you, Uika?"

"I'm fine."

Uika shook her head, then reached out and brushed a bit of dust off Sakiko's shoulder instead.

Looking at Sakiko's poise, still intact despite how clearly ruffled and dirty she looked, Uika asked with concern:

"You're the one I should be asking, Saki. What happened?"

"How did you end up looking so worn out?"

Sakiko sighed helplessly, lifting a hand to tuck back a loose strand of hair near her temple.

"Don't even ask. I ran into some rabid-dog lunatic and got dragged into a fight with him."

She left out the crushing pressure of the battle and the humiliating way she'd been thrown around like a rag doll, glossing over that whole ordeal in one sentence before turning to Uika with a question of her own:

"Are all the civilians on your end cleared out?"

"If they're confirmed clear, let's head out of here."

Mutsumi walked over to join the two of them and began relaying Ayato's latest instructions.

"Ayato says this area might get leveled flat pretty soon."

"He wants us to go home and wait there."

"Leveled flat?"

Hearing that description, the tension that had just started to ease in Uika's expression returned instantly, tinged with worry.

She furrowed her brow.

"If it's that dangerous, will Ayato be all right?"

"Of course he'll be fine," Sakiko answered without a moment's hesitation.

She lifted her chin, her eyes shining with an almost blind trust and pride.

"Ayato is the strongest, after all."

"A truly first-rate man is first-rate at everything he does."

"We should just go home and wait for him without worrying."

"Saki's right," Mutsumi agreed quietly beside her, nodding in full agreement with Sakiko's statement.

While the three girls talked quietly among themselves, Mana noticed Aoi Todo standing off to the side.

She tilted her head, studying him for a few seconds, and then her eyes suddenly lit up.

"Ah! I remember you!"

Mana waved at Todo, greeting him with bubbly energy.

"You're Ayato's friend, and you're also a fan of Takada-chan, right?"

Hearing his identity as Takada-chan's fan called out so plainly, Todo felt a swell of enormous satisfaction.

He puffed out his chest, crossing his arms in obvious pleasure, and declared loudly:

"That's right!"

"I am none other than Takada-chan's most loyal guardian and future husband!"

Looking at the girl before him, herself one of the top idols in the country, Todo said with genuine admiration:

"I never expected that not just Miss Uika, but Miss Mana as well, would be active on tonight's stage."

"Truly impressive."

"No wonder you're considered Takada-chan's greatest rival on the charts!"

"Pfft—"

Sumita Mana completely lost it, doubling over with laughter, hand clapped over her mouth.

"Rival is way too strong a word for it!"

Mana walked over and draped an arm affectionately around Uika's shoulders, waving a hand at Todo.

"And besides, since you're a friend of Ayato's, I guess it's fine to let you know early."

"You don't need to worry about us stealing Takada's spotlight anymore, because Hatsu-chan and I are graduating from being idols pretty soon."

"As for Takada-chan, all we've got now is our full support and best wishes."

"Huh?"

Todo's mind went blank, apparently unable to process the sheer weight of that statement.

For a serious idol otaku, no word carried more devastating impact than "graduation."

Even when it wasn't about his own favorite idol, news of that magnitude was enough to short-circuit his brain.

"Idol graduation?"

He asked instinctively:

"What do you mean? Is the agency exploiting you? Or are you switching to full-time jujutsu work?"

"It's really simple~"

Mana's eyes curved into a smile as she declared, matter-of-fact:

"We're going back to real life."

"From now on, we're focusing on being devoted wives and mothers, full-time housewives."

"Our job from here on out is running our household with Ayato!"

Hearing this bold declaration, Uika's fair cheeks flushed red.

But she didn't deny it. Instead, she nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah. Mana's got it exactly right."

"BOOM—"

Todo felt his brain physically explode.

Devoted wives and mothers?

Full-time housewives?

And...

Uchiha Ayato's household?

Todo: ???

……………

Dogenzaka, in front of Shibuya 109 department store.

A violent wind whipped shards of rubble into the air, and a massive shadow, like a collapsing mountain, bore down from above.

Haruta Shigemo had fallen onto the ground and was scrabbling backward, hands and feet flailing.

The smug, sneering grin he'd worn earlier was long gone, replaced by a face smeared with snot and tears.

No escape.

That was the only thought left rattling around in Haruta Shigemo's head.

Less than two meters in front of him, the massive creature with the bizarre tail sprouting from the back of its head was raising its thick right arm high.

"Help—help me..."

"Somebody, please, save me!"

Haruta screamed until his throat tore raw, his voice warped almost beyond recognition by sheer terror.

The only answer he got was that colossal fist thundering down, and the deafening crack of tearing air.

It's over.

Haruta didn't even have the strength left to close his eyes. All he could do was watch, helpless, as the fist filled his entire field of vision, growing larger and larger.

Right at the instant Mahoraga's fist was about to pulverize him into paste, everything in front of Haruta's eyes blurred.

By the time his senses returned, Mahoraga's fist had already slammed into the ground, punching a deep crater into the asphalt.

As for Haruta himself, he now dangled in the grip of a pink-haired man with black tattoo-like markings across his face.

Ryomen Sukuna, still holding Haruta by the scruff, turned his head to look at Fushiguro Megumi, who had been lulled to sleep by one of Mahoraga's punches.

Against the cracked base of a wall, Fushiguro Megumi lay silently in a pool of blood, his breathing so faint it was almost imperceptible.

If anything, Fushiguro Megumi at that moment looked no different from an actual corpse.

The flame of his life could go out at any second, held on artificially by some special rule at work.

"A state of feigned death, is it..."

Sukuna narrowed his eyes.

With his sharp perception, a single glance was all it took for him to read the situation.

"I see. So this is a multi-party subjugation ritual—one that, once begun, forces itself to continue even if the summoner drops unconscious."

Sukuna's mouth curled into a wicked smile.

In a subjugation ritual, outside interference wouldn't cause it to succeed.

But if this useless blond participant currently dangling from his hand died, Fushiguro Megumi would die right along with him.

"Well then..."

Sukuna looked at Haruta, who was still kicking his legs wildly in his grip, and let out a low chuckle.

"Saving this piece of trash turns out to have been the right call, purely by accident."

With that, he tossed Haruta aside without a second thought.

"Get out of my way. Don't interfere."

Haruta slammed hard into an abandoned car by the roadside. It hurt like hell, but at least his life was intact.

Meanwhile, Sukuna turned to face Mahoraga, who was slowly rising back to its feet.

Just a minute earlier, Sukuna had been growing irritated that a place as large as Shibuya couldn't produce a single living person worth his amusement.

But now, things had changed.

"A little dim-witted looking, sure..."

Sukuna rolled his wrists, a manic gleam surfacing on his face—the look of a man who'd just spotted prey worth hunting.

"But as the first plaything after waking up, this'll pass, barely."

As one of his contingency options, Sukuna had no intention of letting Fushiguro Megumi die.

As long as he, a third party standing outside the ritual, was the one to destroy this shikigami, the subjugation ritual would fail—and Fushiguro Megumi would survive.

Just as Sukuna raised his hand, preparing to test the waters with a few probing slashes, a surge of cursed energy—more violent than even the Mahoraga in front of him—dropped straight down from the sky.

There was no whistling sound of a falling object, because whatever it was had already exceeded the speed of sound on its way down.

"BOOM—!!!"

The earth shook as though a small earthquake had struck.

Centered on the point of impact, countless chunks of rebar and concrete floated weightlessly for an instant, before being ground into fine powder in the next by a terrifying shockwave—a rolling wave of white smoke spreading outward like a tsunami.

The hand Sukuna had been about to swing froze in midair.

He didn't retreat. He simply let the violent gust of wind whip his clothes into a wild flutter.

Before the swirling dust had even fully settled, Sukuna's gaze had already pierced through the smoke, locking onto the center of the newly formed crater.

Once he made out who—or what—had arrived, his expression went blank for a fleeting moment.

Standing at the center of the crater was a small, slender girl.

She wore a pure white kimono, her hair a shoulder-length silver, her eyes covered by a strip of black cloth. Her pale skin, under the moonlight, radiated a lifeless, chilling white.

Above her head hung a small, dark-golden, eight-sided ritual array.

Sukuna studied both figures side by side—the small girl and the original Mahoraga.

The two shared exactly the same cursed energy signature.

But if the larger one was like a lump of raw, unrefined iron ore,

then the smaller one was a blade forged and hammered a thousand times over, a peerless edge.

After a brief flash of surprise, Sukuna suddenly burst into laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

His laughter echoed across the empty ruins, manic and thrilled.

"Interesting! This is too interesting!"

"To think someone could pull off a trick like this!"

Looking at the smaller Mahoraga, nothing remained in Sukuna's eyes but pure, undiluted battle-lust.

"This is nothing a shikigami could achieve on its own."

"This is the final product of some genius bastard's imagination, carved and refined blow by blow, stripping away every ounce of excess, until only this remained!"

Perfect!

A perfect work of art!

At the center of the crater, the smaller Mahoraga paid no attention to Sukuna's manic laughter.

She glanced once at the original Mahoraga, then turned her head to look at the still-exhilarated Sukuna.

Fighting either one of them alone wouldn't satisfy her summoner's wish for her to "have some real fun."

So then...

In the next instant, the smaller Mahoraga clenched her fists, and a pair of demon-slaying blades wreathed in positive energy took shape across the backs of her hands.

In a flat, even voice, she spoke:

"Let's do this together, then."