As Kiyotaka navigated the winding streets of the city, the silence in the car grew thicker with each passing moment. Satoru Gojo, reclining comfortably in the back seat, appeared as calm and nonchalant as ever, his signature blindfold securely in place. Yet beneath that calm exterior, a quiet intensity simmered. Sitting beside him was Akimitsu, his younger brother, whose gaze was fixed on the cityscape passing by. Unlike Satoru, who thrived in the limelight and relished every moment of attention, Akimitsu was a shadow—silent, reserved, and unassuming. But those who underestimated him often regretted it; his power rivaled Satoru's in a way no one else's could.
The two brothers had always shared a complicated bond—rivals in skill, yet bonded by an unspoken respect that only grew as they pushed each other beyond their limits. Despite Satoru's flamboyance and Akimitsu's preference for the background, they were two sides of the same coin. Their dynamic was a blend of competition and camaraderie, a relationship tempered by countless battles fought side by side and against each other.
As the car approached a quieter part of town, Satoru's senses suddenly sharpened. Something was off—a malevolent energy lurked nearby, one that even he found unsettling. His head tilted slightly, his grin fading as he turned his attention to the source of the disturbance. A cursed spirit, powerful and seething with malice, was watching them. Satoru’s hand subtly brushed against Akimitsu's arm, a silent alert.
“Do you feel that too?” Satoru asked, his voice uncharacteristically serious, a low murmur that only his brother could hear.
Akimitsu didn’t respond immediately, his dark eyes narrowing as he scanned the surroundings with honed senses. The cursed energy was dense and overwhelming, a presence that made even his own formidable power seem insignificant in comparison. He nodded almost imperceptibly.
Satoru leaned forward, his usually carefree demeanor momentarily replaced by a sharp edge. “Pull over,” he instructed Kiyotaka, the casualness of his tone doing little to mask the urgency behind the command.
Kiyotaka glanced at Satoru through the rearview mirror, worry etched into his features. “Gojo-san, if we stop now, you’ll be late for your meeting with Masamichi-sama,” he cautioned, his voice tight with concern.
Satoru’s lips curled into a playful smile, his usual cocky confidence returning. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a light chuckle, his arm snaking around Akimitsu’s shoulders in a brotherly gesture. “But he is.”
Before Akimitsu could react, Satoru’s playful smirk turned into mischievous glee as he delivered a well-placed kick, sending Akimitsu tumbling out of the car. The door slammed shut, and Kiyotaka, hesitating only for a moment, obeyed Satoru’s unspoken command, the car speeding away down the deserted road. Akimitsu landed gracefully on his feet, watching the vehicle disappear into the distance with a resigned sigh.
“Well, shit,” Akimitsu muttered under his breath, brushing off the dust from his pants. He turned his attention to the oppressive aura that now engulfed him, a massive surge of cursed energy that felt like the very air was being crushed under its weight.
Emerging from the shadows of the surrounding buildings, the cursed spirit stepped into view, its monstrous form towering over Akimitsu. It was a terrifying sight—an entity that embodied the raw, destructive power of a volcano. Its head resembled a smoldering peak, smoke and flames billowing from its crown. The creature’s central eye, glaring and filled with malice, was complemented by a smaller eye beneath it, both glowing with a fiery intensity. A sinister, toothy grin stretched across its blackened face, the expression of a being that knew only destruction and chaos.
Its body was charred and cracked, glowing veins of molten lava crisscrossing its muscular, clawed limbs. The cursed spirit’s form radiated heat, distorting the air around it, the smell of sulfur and ash filling the atmosphere. It wore a simple, dark loincloth, a crude garment that did nothing to diminish its overwhelming presence.
