The room was silent. Almost reverent.
The corpse of Mahito—twisted, punctured over a dozen times by weapons that shouldn't have existed—lay sprawled against a broken column. Blood had dried black under the flickering fluorescent light. The look in his remaining eye, frozen in shock. Powerless. Human.
Next to him, the sorcerer who had been with him: throat crushed, ribcage split, eyes wide open in a stare of disbelief.
Kenjaku stood in silence, one hand raised to his chin, contemplative.
"…No cursed energy." His voice was low, uncharacteristically serious.
At his side stood Hanami—brows furrowed—and Jogo, teeth clenched in restrained rage.
"This was done with steel. Tools. Not technique," Hanami muttered, kneeling by the corpses. "These aren't curse marks."
Jogo growled. "It doesn't make sense. Mahito was one of us. Strong. Resourceful. Who the hell—"
"—Did this?" Kenjaku finished. His stitched face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes narrowed. "That's the point. We don't know."
He turned to Jogo.
"You will investigate. Quietly. If someone killed Mahito and one of our informants, and they're not from Jujutsu High… I want to know why. And more importantly, how."
Jogo scoffed, but didn't argue. "If I find them—"
Kenjaku tilted his head slightly.
"Don't attack. Not yet. Just observe. Report."
Jogo's body flickered in fire as he vanished.
Shinjuku, Tokyo – 23 Minutes Earlier
"Look at this place…" Gojo Satoru muttered, stepping into the hollowed warehouse that still reeked of battle and death.
With him were Itadori, Megumi, and Nobara, their steps slow as they scanned the scene.
The bodies hadn't been touched. No curse traces. No technique residue. Just… death.
Itadori's voice was strained. "That's… Mahito? That's really him?"
Gojo walked closer, crouching beside Mahito's remains.
Clean punctures. Throat torn. Organs crushed. There were no burn marks, no shattered cursed technique damage. It was raw, physical violence. Brutal. Deliberate. Almost elegant in its cruelty.
"Whoever did this," Gojo said, "knew how to kill fast. Efficiently. Mahito didn't even get to transform."
Megumi looked around. "Still no cursed energy anywhere."
"Nope," Gojo replied. "Like a human. Just… a very, very dangerous one."
Nobara turned toward the second body. "Who was this guy?"
Gojo shrugged. "Dead. Doesn't matter. What matters is this—" he pointed toward Mahito.
"Someone who isn't a sorcerer walked into this place… and killed Mahito."
Itadori was quiet.
"That's a problem," Megumi said.
Gojo stood, sliding his hands in his pockets.
"That's more than a problem. That's an unknown variable that just knocked off one of the top curses like he was checking groceries."
Meanwhile, high above in a skyscraper rooftop, hidden in shadows, Agent 47 watched the cleanup unfold. The earpiece in his ear buzzed as the Nexus System whispered a soft confirmation:
Mission Complete. No Detection. Zero Witnesses.
He adjusted the cuffs of his coat, eyes narrowing behind the cold Tokyo wind. His next contract had not yet arrived.
But he knew now: he had begun to shift the balance in a world where monsters walked as men—and men were monsters far deadlier.