Chapter 14: Tokyo Goodwill Event

The Meeting of Shadows

Deep beneath Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, was an entire chamber thrummed with ancient barrier energy.

Five layers of seals, glowing faintly, kept the room isolated from the world above. No sound or cursed energy could leak out.

At the heart of the chamber sat Master Tengen, calm, unmoving, eyes like still water.

Before him stood the heads of Japan’s remaining pillars:

Zenin Naomasa, an iron-blooded patriarch.

Gojo Daisuke, the white-haired elder of the Gojo clan.

Kamo Takahiro, a strict and brutal traditionalist.

Even among them, unease lingered.

Tengen broke the silence.

“It’s been seven years have since the Tokyo Terror. Seven years since South Africa overtook Japan as the world’s leading Jujutsu nation.”

His words weighed heavier than the barrier itself.

“Humiliation,” Kamo spat. “Losing our dominance to… to children.”

Zenin’s jaw flexed. “Say their names. We all know who cost us everything.”

Kamo didn’t hesitate.

“Jaden Ryūmen… and Elle Abrahams. Two curses walking in human skin.”

Gojo Daisuke clicked his tongue.
“Neither of those children should have existed. Their existence is ungodly.”

Tengen raised a hand, silencing the bickering.

“Regardless… they do exist. And South Africa continues to get stronger.”

His tone sharpened.
“There is nothing we can do to change the past. We can only prepare for what comes next.”

A sudden knock.

The doors opened.

Megumi Fushiguro stepped inside.

The temperature of the room seemed to shift. Even Tengen’s barrier hummed in recognition.

Zenin’s lips curved into a smirk.

“Our strongest weapon has arrived.”

Megumi bowed respectfully, then straightened himself— his eyes were sharp, and filled with a frightening kind of resolve.

“We have a plan,” he said. “A way to reclaim Japan’s former glory.”

Every clan head leaned forward.

Tengen spoke. “Continue.”

Megumi clasped his hands behind his back.

“In one week, Tokyo will host the International Cultural Exchange Event between Japan and South Africa.”

Zenin nodded. “We agreed to the event as means to establish political reconciliation.”

Megumi’s expression never wavered.

“We will use the event to exorcise Cyan Mowbray—the vessel of Jaden Ryūmen.”

The room froze.

Even seasoned clan heads, veterans of countless tragedies, felt their breath tighten.

The name alone carried the weight of seven years of nightmares.

Goosebumps rippled through the chamber.

Zenin whispered, almost in awe,
“That monster’s vessel walks freely among us…”

Kamo swallowed. “And what of Elle Abrahams? She's practically invincible. We all saw what her Prism Eyes did—”

Megumi smiled.

“Don’t worry about Elle. We’ve prepared for her too.”

The silence became electric.

“We’ve found a way to counter her Prism Eyes.”

Shock erupted.

“What?! Impossible—”

“No technique can withstand her light—”

“She neutralized entire divisions—”

Megumi raised a single hand.

“I will handle her myself.”

That statement alone would have sounded absurd…

…if not for the living nightmare standing before them.

Zenin’s voice trembled with something between pride and fear.

“After all… you did accomplish the impossible.”

His eyes flicked to Megumi.

“The first Ten Shadows sorcerer in history to tame all ten shikigami… including Mahoraga.”

Murmurs swept the room.

A shiver crawled up the backs of even the clan heads.

Megumi continued, matter-of-fact:

“I’ll use Mahoraga to adapt to Elle’s cursed technique. Once she’s dealt with, Cyan Mowbray will have no protection.”

Tengen folded his hands.

“Very well. This must remain hidden. We strike during the three-on-three battles. You’ll split her team up, then go in for the kill..”

He turned to Gojo Daisuke.

“Notify Yuki and Yukino. The twins will accompany Megumi for the final preparations.”

Gojo nodded.

Megumi bowed and exited.

The heavy door closed behind him with a deep echo.

Gojo exhaled softly as he watched the young sorcerer disappear down the hallway.

“The Zenin clan is blessed,” he murmured. “To produce such a monster.”

Zenin smirked.

“Perhaps. But your clan is blessed as well.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow.

“The twins,” Zenin said.
“are the inheritors of Satoru Gojo’s power.”

A rare smile tugged at the elder Gojo’s lips.

“A blessing… indeed.”

The room returned to silence.

A silence filled with ambition.

Fear.

And the quiet, growing certainty:

Japan had just declared war on South Africa.

 

Jujutsu HQ, Cape Town

The meeting room at Cape Town Jujutsu HQ buzzed faintly with the hum of reinforced barriers—layers upon layers of South Africa’s finest defensive seals.

Outside, Table Mountain loomed beneath the morning haze, but inside, a storm was brewing.

Philip Mowbray, stern and perpetually tired, sat at the head of the long stone table.

To his left, Charles Liebert, sharp-eyed and already irritated.

To his right, Elle Abrahams, legs crossed, leaning back with her usual relaxed arrogance.

And next to Charles sat Dean Liebert, hands folded, gaze unwavering.

He was the first to speak.

“It’s simple,” Dean said, voice cooler than the air-conditioned room. “We decline Japan’s invitation this year.”

Philip sighed. “Dean—”

“No.” Dean cut him off.

“That country is unstable. Their clans are unpredictable. And we have no reason to expose our students to that environment.”

Charles nodded immediately.

“And with a serial killer still on the loose in Cape Town, it’s reckless to travel across the world. We’re stretched thin already.”

Philip exhaled through his nose, rubbing his forehead.

“And… there’s also the matter of Elle returning to Japan,”

He swallowed.
“And the matter of the vessel.”

Elle’s eyes flicked toward him—brief, amused, cold.

He didn’t say Cyan’s name.
Couldn’t.
Not when she was his daughter.

The silence that followed was thick.

While the men debated, Elle wasn’t listening.

Her gaze had drifted toward the windows, but what she saw wasn’t the Cape Town skyline—
—it was Tokyo.

Seven years ago.

The screaming.
The light.

The earth splitting under her Prism Eyes.

Jaden standing beside her, hands glowing with cursed energy darker than night, laughing like a god gone mad.

Tokyo burning.
The sky collapsing.
The clans destroyed.

Her breath hitched—

“Elle.”
Dean’s voice snapped her back.

She blinked. “Huh?”

Dean leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“We’re discussing the possibility that Japan uses this event to assassinate you and Cyan.”

Charles and Philip watched her carefully.

Elle stared at them for a second—then laughed.

A bright, almost musical laugh.

“You really think I can get beaten?”
She shook her head.

“Cyan maybe, sure. But me? Definitely not.”

The room went silent.

The kind of silence where none of them knew how to respond or what expression to make.

Elle stretched her legs under the table and shrugged.

“We’ll accept their invitation.”

Philip stiffened. “Elle—”

She smirked.

“After what they did seven years ago? We can’t ignore that, and we definitely can’t afford to show weakness. And someone needs to keep those slimy bastards in check.”

Charles inhaled sharply but didn’t argue.

Philip leaned back in his chair, shoulders dropping with reluctant acceptance.

“If we want to avoid a full-scale war again…” he muttered.

“This is the best course of action. As dangerous as it is.”

Dean tapped a finger on the table.

“I’ll agree on one condition.”

Elle tilted her head. “And what’s that?”

“Take my team with you.”

Elle’s expression tightened for the first time.

Not annoyed—calculating.

She looked up at the ceiling, then back at him.

“Fine.”

She smirked.
“As long as they don’t get in my way, they should survive.”

Dean didn’t rise to the provocation—though Charles’ jaw clenched.

Charles spoke next, breaking the tension.

“It’s chaotic enough with the murders, the vessels… the international pressure.”

He exhaled.
“For once, the Big Three families need to work together. Behind the scenes. No solo acts.”

Both Philip & Dean nodded.

Even Elle gave a small shrug.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll play nice.”

But her gaze drifted again—far away, deep into memory.

And suddenly she wasn’t in Cape Town anymore.

She was back in Tokyo.

Watching it all happen again.

Jaden—twenty-one years old—
falling from the sky like a fallen angel, wings made of cursed energy tearing apart as he descended.

His eyes meeting hers.

A smile that was half-insanity, half-divine.

Elle’s breath caught.

The room around her faded.

The meeting.
The voices.

Everything blurred into the image of him. Falling toward her like fate itself.

 

Tokyo Tower, Tokyo

The wind at the top of Tokyo Tower was razor-cold, sharp enough to slice through the city’s neon haze.

Below, Tokyo pulsed in restless colours — arteries of light feeding a sleepless, wounded giant.

Two silhouettes stood on the highest maintenance platform, far above where tourists were allowed.

Aiden leaned against the railing, hands in his pockets, coat fluttering. Beside him stood the Man, silent and still, arms folded as he took in the sprawling city beneath them.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then, finally, the Man broke the quiet.

“So,” he said, voice calm but curious, “what exactly are we doing in Japan?”

Aiden’s lips curled into a small, delighted smile — like he’d been waiting for the question.

“I was wondering when you'd ask.”

He pushed off the railing and stepped closer to the Man.

“In one week, Japan is hosting their Tokyo Cultural Exchange Event. Matches, exhibitions, solo battles… their sorcerers versus ours.”

The Man nodded slowly.
“Okay, And?”

“And,” Aiden continued, his eyes drifting across the glittering cityscape, “South Africa is sending their teams. More importantly… they’re sending her.”

The Man raised an eyebrow.
“The vessel.”

Aiden nodded.

“Japan's going to try to assassinate her. Of course they are.”

The Man’s tone remained casual.
“Why? She’s barely known over here.”

Aiden’s smile faded.

He stared at Tokyo — not the beautiful, glowing version in front of him, but the one he remembered. Burned. Cratered. Red.

“Because she reminds them of Jaden.”

Recognition flickered across the Man’s face.

“Ah… the Tokyo Terror,” he said lightly. “I’ve only heard stories.”

Aiden let out a small laugh — not out of humour, but nostalgia soaked in horror.

“Stories don’t do it justice. You should’ve seen what he turned this country into, piece by piece.”

A beat.

The Man exhaled.
“Fine. Then why are you so interested in all this?”

Aiden reached into his coat pocket.

“Because…”

He pulled something out — something dark, shrivelled, humming faintly with a malice no curse could imitate.

A finger.

Twisted, ancient.

Jaden’s finger.

The Man’s eyes widened, awe flooding into his expression as he instinctively reached forward.

Aiden rolled the finger between his fingers like a coin.

“The event will be the perfect distraction. While they're busy trying to kill the vessel, I’ll steal the Prison Seal. And then…”

He held the finger up to the moonlight.

“…I'll feed her this. And the others I stole from HQ.”

The Man couldn’t hold back anymore; he snatched the finger from Aiden’s hand, turning it over in fascination.

“I want to be the one to do it,” he said, voice low with excitement. “I want to see what Ryumen feels like. Up close.”

Aiden’s expression sharpened.

“You might not survive it.”

The Man smirked, tucking the cursed finger away inside his coat.

“We’ll see.”

Tokyo’s lights flickered below them — as if the city already sensed what was coming.