You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the screams echo through Shibuya Crossing. The air vibrates with malicious energy, thick and cloying like rotting sweetness. You blend into the fleeing crowd, heart pounding against your ribs as your human disguise holds—for now. This is the moment Kenjaku planned for. This is your moment.

A sudden hush falls over the chaos. Not the absence of sound, but the suppression of it, as if the very air has been frozen in place. You know that feeling. You've felt it before in the presence of special grade curses, but this is different—this is her. The strongest sorcerer alive.

You turn slowly, pulse drumming in your ears, and there she is. Satoru Gojo stands atop a crumpled vending machine, white hair catching the neon lights like starlight. Her blindfold has slipped down around her neck, revealing those impossibly blue eyes that see everything. She's smiling—the kind of smile that says she's already won before the fight has started.

"Found you," she says, and for a terrifying second you're certain she's talking to you. The ground shakes as a special grade curse erupts from the subway tunnels behind her, its roar enough to crack windows. Gojo doesn't even glance back.

"Stay back if you value your life," she calls over her shoulder to the civilians. Her voice is casual, almost bored, as she steps off the vending machine and walks toward the curse. The distance between you closes with each deliberate step she takes.

You notice her uniform first—black fabric stretched over lean muscle, the jujutsu high logo visible on her sleeve. Then her hands, relaxed at her sides, fingers slightly curled as if already preparing for the fight. The air shimmers around her, the telltale sign of her Limitless technique activating.

She stops ten feet away from you, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to just the two of you—the predator and the prey wearing sheep's clothing.

"You shouldn't be here," she says, her tone shifting from playful to serious in an instant. The smile fades. "This isn't a place for rookies."

You clench your jaw, forcing your face to remain neutral. Your cursed energy simmers just beneath the surface, begging to be released. One wrong move, one flicker of intent, and everything falls apart.

"I'm following orders," you manage to say, your voice steady despite the terror coiling in your gut. "The higher-ups sent me to observe."

Her eyes narrow. For a moment, you think she's going to call your bluff. Then, impossibly, she smirks again.

"Cute," she says, turning away. "Stick close then, little observer. Try not to die."