Gojo Satoru, exhausted from his relentless battle against approximately a thousand transfigured humans, found himself panting heavily after expanding his domains of a mere 0.2 seconds.
He stood there, resembling a demon with two transfigured human heads gripped tightly in his hands. Just as he prepared to resume his unfinished task of eliminating the special grade cursed spirits, his attention was drawn to an ominous square-shaped cursed object that was thrown its way on the ground.
Gojo's six eyes widened in shock as he gazed at the enigmatic artifact before him. It exuded an unsettling aura, causing a shiver to run down his spine.
Just as some unknown voice uttered the words, "Gate... Open."
As if responding to his command, the square-shaped cursed object began to stir, its rigid form breaking apart into four distinct pieces. The fragments expanded and transformed into a grotesque sight—a pulsating mass of red flesh, dominated by a colossal, bloodshot eye that ominously dripped with crimson. Four pins protruded from the corners of the eye, adding to its eerie appearance.
Gojo stood there, frozen in astonishment, unable to process the bewildering scenario unfolding before him. Lost in time and space, he found himself captivated by his own reflection within the blood-drenched eye.
Suddenly, after a brief moment, Gojo's body jolted into action. He instinctively turned, intending to evade the approaching cursed object. However, before he could make his escape, a familiar voice pierced through the air, calling out to him with a cheerful and jubilant tone.
"Yo, Satoru!" the voice exclaimed.
Startled, Gojo spun around to identify the source of the voice. To his utmost disbelief, he beheld a figure standing before him—a man he never thought he would see alive, not even in his wildest dreams. The man stood tall, his long black hair partially tied up at the back while the rest cascaded down his back. His small black eyes were closed, but a broad smile adorned his face, as if reuniting with someone after an extended absence. A prominent feature on his forehead caught Gojo's attention—a large scar adorned with stitched patterns.
The man donned a captivating attire—a gold-colored kāṣāya garment draping over his black yukata robes. Completing his monk-like ensemble were white tabi socks and zōri sandals.
Gojo's bewildered expression remained fixed on his face as he blurted out a single word, "Huh?"
The man adorned in a yukata chuckled and extended his hand towards the air, a warm smile gracing his features. "It's been a while," he said, his voice filled with nostalgia.
In front of Gojo stood someone he had thought he killed with his own hands just a year ago—the person he considered his one and only best friend.
As he laid eyes on the man, a flood of thoughts raced through Gojo's mind. Could this be some kind of deception or a transformation technique? He desperately grasped at any possible explanation to deny the existence of the man before him.
But no matter how hard he tried to rationalize it, Gojo's six eyes dismissed all the reasons and possibilities. Memories surged forth, overwhelming his thoughts—three years of shared experiences, laughter, and camaraderie with his closest companion.
"He's real...!" Gojo realized, the truth sinking in.
The square-shaped cursed object, also known as the Prison Realm, required a condition to be activated—a minute of standing in the same position. While it was merely an instant for everyone else, in Gojo Satoru's mind, a substantial amount of time had passed.
As the condition for the Prison Realm was fulfilled, the cursed object shattered its red flesh exterior, breaking into six parts that swiftly encircled Gojo, rendering him completely immobilized.
"Tch!" Gojo clicked his tongue, frustration evident on his face. A realization struck him, 'Dammit! They got me!'
"C'mon now, Satoru. Are you letting your mind wander during the midst of battle?" the man in the black yukata remarked, his voice laced with a hint of admonishment.
Gojo's body remained devoid of cursed energy, his muscles unresponsive to his commands. He tried to exert his will, attempting to tap into the well of cursed energy within him, but to no avail.
Is this a checkmate? The thought swirled in Gojo's mind as he desperately sought a way out of his predicament.
With a newfound realization of his helplessness, he redirected his focus towards the enigmatic figure standing before him.
"So... who are you?" Gojo questioned, squinting his eyes at the man who bore his friend's face and wore the black yukata.
"Suguru Geto, of course. Did you forget? How sad," the man replied, feigning a tearful expression while wiping imaginary tears from his cheeks, a sly smile playing on his lips.
Gojo's gaze hardened as he studied the man, analyzing his body and the flow of cursed energy within him. His six eyes confirmed what his instincts had already sensed—this man before him was Suguru Geto.
"Your body… and even your cursed energy… my six eyes tell me you are Suguru Geto." said Gojo looking at him with furious and rage in his eyes.
"But my soul tells me otherwise! Answer me now! Who the hell are you?" Gojo's voice thundered with fury and rage.
The answer came swiftly, catching Gojo off guard. The man raised his right hand, fingers brushing against the scar and stitch marks on his forehead. Then, with a deliberate motion, he began to pull a thread from the stitches.
"Yeesh!" the man exclaimed, a twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he extracted the thread successfully, holding it delicately in his hand.
"How did you know?" the man, claiming to be Suguru Geto, asked, his smile taking on a maniacal edge, his eyes closed in a sinister he pulled out a thread successfully and open its upper head and take it out in his hand.
The man's head fully opened, revealing a grotesque sight of exposed brain and jagged teeth, resembling something straight out of a horror scene. Gojo clenched his teeth, a mixture of revulsion and determination etched on his face.
"It is a cursed technique that allows me to hop between bodies by switching brains. And of course, it grants me access to the innate techniques of the host bodies as well," the imposter Geto explained, twirling the open forehead in his right hand.
"I coveted his cursed manipulation and the exact circumstances that led to this. Didn't you have Shoko Ieiri dispose of Suguru Geto's body?" the fake Geto asked, wiping a liquid substance from his cheeks that had seeped out during the grotesque display.
"You only think of these things during such inconvenient moments. Thanks to your oversight, I acquired this body without much trouble," the imposter continued, his tone dripping with sinister satisfaction as he began to fix his head back into place.
"But don't worry. The seal will eventually wear off. In a hundred... no, perhaps a thousand years," the imposter reassured Gojo while meticulously stitching his head with a thread. "You see, you're just too strong. You're in the way of my plans."
"Heh!" Gojo snickered, a hint of defiance in his voice. "Don't you remember? Who was it who defeated that body before it was killed by me."
The imposter Geto pondered the person Gojo referred to. "Yuta Okkotsu, huh? I fail to see what everyone sees in him," he mused as he completed the stitching on his forehead. "His ability to unconditionally copy cursed techniques and his boundless cursed energy. Both are the consequences of him having to suppress the soul of his loved one."
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but Yuta Okkotsu can never truly become the next Satoru Gojo. Good night, Satoru Gojo. Let us meet again in the new world," the imposter declared, his tone laced with a disturbing mix of confidence and malice.
Gojo responded with a faint smile, though it carried a somber undertone. "Yes, perhaps it is good night for me. But it is about time for you to wake up."
"HOW ARE YOU GONNA LET YOURSELF GET USED LIKE THAT… SUGURU?" Gojo's voice pierced the tense air, his tone laden with seriousness and disappointment.
The fake Geto's right hand instinctively reached for his own neck, as if trying to grasp the gravity of the situation. However, his response was far from somber. He burst into laughter, the grip of his hand tightening around his throat. "Ha ha ha! This is nothing new to me!"
"Geto..." a voice called out from behind him.
Geto turned around, locking eyes with the one who had called his name. "Mahito... take a look. You theorized that the soul precedes the body, but in reality, the body is the soul and the soul is the body. Otherwise, the phenomenon of the body's memories persisting in my mind even after changing hosts cannot be explained."