The hunt begins.
Sukuna no longer waits for fate. He moves.
Through Yuji's body, he senses the scattered remnants of himself—his fingers, sealed and buried across Japan. Each one pulses faintly, calling to him like distant drums. The rhythm is slow, ancient, familiar. It's not a call. It's a summons.
He answers.
Yuji sleeps.
Sukuna slips into control, just for moments. Enough to whisper. Enough to command. He doesn't need full possession. He needs silence. He needs shadows.
He reaches out to cursed spirits—not the mindless ones, but the clever, the ambitious, the broken. The ones who remember his name. The ones who dream of power. He offers them purpose. Power. A chance to serve the King of Curses.
Most flee.
Some kneel.
He sends them across the country—into temples, vaults, ruins. They move like ghosts. They kill like nightmares. They retrieve his fingers, one by one. Each return strengthens him. Each fragment restores a piece of his soul.
Yuji feels it.
The pressure. The weight. His body aches. His dreams darken. He doesn't know why, but he knows something is wrong. His cursed energy flickers. His emotions twist. He wakes with clenched fists and a taste of ash in his mouth.
Gojo investigates.
He finds traces—cursed energy signatures that match Sukuna's, but warped. Faint. Echoes of something ancient moving beneath the surface. He confronts Yuji.
"You're changing," Gojo says. "And not just physically."
Yuji nods.
"I feel him. More than before."
Sukuna listens.
He's amused. The boy is perceptive. But not enough.
In secret, Sukuna begins crafting a map—a mental lattice of his remaining fingers. He knows where they are. Who guards them. What must be done. He remembers the seals. The wards. The weaknesses.
He sends a spirit to Kyoto.
Another to the mountains of Nagano.
A third to the underwater vault beneath Sendai.
Each mission succeeds.
Each finger returns.
He's halfway whole.
Yuji collapses during training. His cursed energy fluctuates wildly. His soul trembles. Shoko examines him—her hands steady, her eyes grim. His soul is fraying, stretched thin. The vessel is weakening.
The elders grow nervous.
"If he consumes all twenty," one says, "we won't be able to kill him."
Gojo disagrees.
"We'll kill Sukuna. Not Yuji."
Sukuna laughs.
"You'll try."
He watches the sorcerers scramble. Watches Yuji struggle. Watches the world prepare for a storm it cannot stop. He feels the fear. The tension. The desperation.
And he whispers to the wind:
"Soon."