A few minutes earlier,
Gojo Satoru was preparing to teleport directly to the Shibuya ward, where Umaru and the others were trapped inside the barrier.
His cursed energy was already focused, His Technique on the verge of activation, when suddenly—
The air twisted.
A violent fluctuation cracked through space itself.
The seal of calamity unlocked.
A man emerged.
He wore the white ceremonial robes of the Twelve Heavenly Generals, tied with a black ribbon at the neckline. His long dark-green hair flowed behind him, with a single golden lock falling over his forehead. His eyes, heavy with dark circles, carried both fatigue and sharp vigilance.
Gojo's eyes lit up the instant he saw him. His grin widened beneath the blindfold.
"Yo! If it isn't Uncle Waste Firewood!"
Of course, that wasn't his true name.
This man was Seigen Amawaka, one of the Twelve Heavenly Generals of the modern Onmyōji world, bearer of the White Tiger title. Known for his strict personality, sharp judgment, and unrivaled mastery of barrier techniques, he was both feared and respected across the Yin-Yang Bureau.
But to Gojo Satoru, he was simply "Uncle Waste Firewood."
The nickname instantly darkened Seigen's expression. His rigid features turned almost stone-like, his eyes twitching with irritation.
"…Why are you here, you troublesome brat."
Gojo raised a hand as if greeting an old friend, his grin widening further.
"Why am I here? What kind of question is that, Uncle Waste Firewood? There's a huge incident in Tokyo! Obviously, I can't just sit around. But what I don't get is—why are you here?"
Seigen folded his arms across his chest, glaring coldly.
"Don't call me that. And don't question me either. Move aside."
Gojo pouted exaggeratedly, clutching at his chest like a wounded actor.
"Ehhh!? What's with that tone? I came all the way here, called you with such warmth, and you just toss me aside? Ugh… as expected. I'm a lonely ronin, an outsider, destined never to be part of your big family…"
Seigen's lips twitched. His eyes deadened further, like a man already regretting his life choices. Anyone else who dared mock him with such a ridiculous name would've been beaten down instantly.
But Gojo wasn't just anyone.
Because of a bet.
A few months ago, they had made a wager.
If Gojo won, Seigen would have to endure whatever absurd nickname the sorcerer gave him. If Seigen won, Gojo would stay far, far away from him for at least a year.
Naturally, Gojo had won.
And so "Uncle Waste Firewood" was born—a scar on Seigen's pride that he couldn't erase.
Gojo leaned in with a mischievous smile.
"Ohhh, Uncle Waste Firewood~ Don't tell me you came running back to Tokyo for your precious daughter, Mayura-chan?"
The moment her name slipped out, Seigen's aura flared, cold and suffocating. His voice was laced with steel.
"Do not speak of her. And do not even think about approaching her."
Otomi Mayura—his only daughter. His reverse scale. His pride and weakness alike. Anyone who even joked about her would face his wrath.
But Gojo only waved a hand, laughing carelessly.
"Relax, relax. I'm not interested in middle school kids. Not my type."
His grin curled slyly as he added under his breath:
"…Unless of course, she takes the initiative—"
"Gojo!."
Seigen's sharp voice cut like a blade.
Gojo burst out laughing, both hands raised.
"Alright, alright! Don't blow a fuse, Uncle. I was joking."
The air between them grew heavy again. Seigen's sharp eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"…Enough foolishness. With your Limitless Technique, you should've been in Shibuya already. Why are you still lingering here?"
Gojo rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Do you seriously think I'm wasting time for fun? I just finished uprooting a Basara. That's why I'm here."
Seigen's eyes sharpened.
"You… what?"
His senses told him Gojo hadn't even fought—his cursed energy was smooth, controlled, without disturbance. But he knew better. This wasn't some arrogant bluff. If Gojo Satoru said he had taken down a Basara, then the Basara was gone.
Gojo folded his arms, tilting his head arrogantly.
"Basara, calamities, curses… they're all just oversized ants. Hardly worth breaking a sweat over."
But his arrogance faltered halfway. His grin disappeared. His eyes narrowed, sharp and serious.
"…Uncle Waste Firewood. We need to move. Now."
The reason was clear. He had felt it.
Umaru's protective charm had activated.
Seigen let out a sharp breath, clicking his tongue.
"Tch! If you hadn't wasted so much time running your mouth, I'd already be there. Hold still. I'll take you."
But Gojo only smirked, placing a hand casually on Seigen's shoulder.
"No need. This one's on me."
Limitless—
The space around them folded.
In an instant, the city warped, and they reappeared high above the battlefield.
Below, Umaru, Kirara Hoshino, and others were safe within the protection of the barrier. Gojo's grin returned, softer this time, almost relieved.
"…Good. They're fine."
But his eyes caught another detail. A girl with snow-white hair stood nearby. For a moment, she looked strangely familiar. Gojo rubbed his chin thoughtfully, but after a second, dismissed it with a shrug.
Seigen's voice broke the silence.
"Gojo. That filth—are you handling it, or should I?"
A massive cursed presence was surging below, the aura of a snake-class calamity coiling and twisting.
Seigen's expression didn't change. His voice was as cold as ever.
"To exorcise it is no different from crushing an ant."
Gojo bent forward slightly, stretching his arms, his grin twisting into something sharp and cocky.
"I'll handle it. My sister's watching. Time to look cool."
...
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