On the other end of the call, buried under a thin crackle of static, Shiu Kong’s rough voice came through with its usual mix of mockery and testing the waters.

"Well, well. Didn’t you say you found yourself a nice long-term meal ticket? So why do you still sound half dead when you answer the phone? Don’t tell me you got itchy, ran off to the racetrack, and handed every yen back to the house."

The meal ticket he meant was, of course, the cover story Touma had built for the Toji Fushiguro identity.

Secretly hired by some rich University of Tokyo big shot.

Touma’s expression did not move.

He had no intention of chatting.

The more he talked, the more chances there were for the story to start leaking. A fake background could survive a few questions. It could not survive Shiu Kong sniffing around it for fun. The man was a black-market broker, not some drunk uncle at a bar.

So Touma narrowed his eyes and slipped fully into character.

Gambling addict. Bad temper. Heavenly Restricted monster.

Instant fit.

He let a cold, irritated grunt scrape out of his throat. When he spoke, his voice was pure hostility, the kind that sounded like the phone call itself had offended him.

"Shut up. None of your business. If you’ve got a job, say it. If you’ve got something else, make it quick. If it doesn’t pay, hang up."

That burst of temper did not bother Shiu Kong at all.

If anything, it probably made him relax.

This was Toji Fushiguro. The day that man answered politely, Shiu Kong would start checking for curses in the wiring.

Their working relationship had lasted this long because Shiu Kong had already accepted what Toji was. Greedy, abrasive, dangerous, and easy to understand as long as money was involved.

Shiu Kong chuckled once, low and raspy, then dropped the banter. Excitement crept into his voice despite his attempt to keep it professional.

"There’s a job. A big one. The kind of payday you could waste for a long time and still have plenty left over. The Star Religious Group put out a contract. They want the Star Plasma Vessel assassinated. Those zealots don’t have the muscle to fight Jujutsu Sorcerers head-on, but when it comes to throwing money at their faith, they don’t blink. The funds are generous. I can guarantee that much."

"Star Plasma Vessel...?"

Touma paused for half a second on purpose. He controlled his voice carefully, adding just enough lazy confusion to sell it.

In reality, counting the simulations, this was the fourth time his fate had tangled itself around those three words.

But to Shiu Kong, the Toji Fushiguro on the phone was supposed to be hearing some obscure jujutsu term for the first time.

Sure, Toji had once belonged to the Zenin Clan, one of the Big Three Sorcerer Families. That did not mean he cared about the jujutsu world’s future, Tengen’s assimilation, or any of the grand nonsense sorcerers liked to dress up as duty.

That kind of thing had about as much appeal to Toji as a philosophy lecture.

Tell him a new underground casino had opened near Kabukicho, and maybe he’d listen.

As expected, Shiu Kong did not suspect a thing. He started explaining in the plainest terms possible, clearly aiming for the idiot who only understands money version of Toji.

"In short, sometime soon, a young human girl designated as the Star Plasma Vessel will be escorted to Master Tengen’s location under Tokyo Jujutsu High for an ’assimilation.’ Our client’s goal is simple. Before the assimilation ceremony begins, the girl serving as the Star Plasma Vessel is to be... permanently removed."

Touma did not jump on the job like a starving killer smelling cash.

He let the silence sit for a moment, tapped his fingers against the desk, and answered in a slower voice. Careful. Evaluating.

"So the target’s just a defenseless civilian. Easy enough on paper... but Tokyo Jujutsu High is protecting her, right? That fortress. And if I’m remembering right, the Gojo Clan’s white-haired brat with the sunglasses has been making a pretty big name for himself lately."

Shiu Kong laughed quietly again.

He knew Toji’s instincts had already locked onto the real problem hiding inside this simple assassination. The fact that Toji brought up Satoru Gojo first was not surprising at all.

Gojo’s recent accomplishments had gotten loud enough that even the underground market talked about him in lowered voices.

Shiu Kong tapped ash from his cigarette and asked the question directly. His voice dropped a little.

"So? Scared? Are you telling me you don’t want in on this ridiculous bounty for the Star Plasma Vessel?"

It was not just provocation.

He was actually checking.

For Curse Users, assassins, and every other piece of trash crawling around Japan’s jujutsu underworld, the white-haired boy with those pale blue eyes and the name Gojo had become the living definition of don’t touch.

Especially after rumors started spreading that he had already mastered Hollow Purple.

Shiu Kong had thought about it himself.

The current Satoru Gojo had already stepped past common sense. Human logic did not quite apply to him anymore. He was turning into something monstrous, something people did not even have a proper category for. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

So if even the Sorcerer Killer, a man who had never seemed afraid of anything, hesitated in front of that kind of opponent, Shiu Kong would not call it shameful.

He would call it having a survival instinct.

What came back through the receiver, however, was exactly why people called Toji Fushiguro a Heavenly Restricted tyrant.

"Hah? Scared?"

Touma’s voice spiked hard, suddenly vicious enough to make the speaker buzz.

"Did you get your brain caught in a door, Shiu Kong? That’s Satoru Gojo! The brat has the Six Eyes, something that shows up once every few centuries, and the Limitless technique on top of it! As long as something like that is standing guard, nobody on this planet can just walk in and pull off some stupid head-on assassination! What I’m saying is, if the job is that hard, I’m charging more. A lot more."

For once, the demand actually caught Shiu Kong off guard.

His eyebrows lifted. When he spoke again, there was real curiosity under the professionalism.

"Even with Satoru Gojo at full strength as your opponent, you’re that confident you can do it?"

A cold smile curved across Touma’s mouth.

He leaned into the relaxed drawl of a predator who had already seen the path to the kill. Then he drove straight through the center of the problem.

"Idiot. You said it yourself. The final target is some ordinary girl called the Star Plasma Vessel, not Gojo. Nobody’s paying me to fight that monster to the death. Nobody’s asking me to kill Satoru Gojo. As long as the civilian dies, the job is done. Killing one person? I’ve got more than enough ways to slip past those eyes."

Something sharpened in Shiu Kong’s gaze.

In an instant, the fog cleared.

Of course.

The real question had never been how to study, defeat, or kill Satoru Gojo, the Six Eyes wielder who was already being treated like a god in training.

The real question was how to get around Gojo’s line of sight and kill the ordinary human girl he was protecting.

Once the target died, the client’s objective was complete.

With that blind spot neatly solved, the tension in Shiu Kong’s nerves loosened a little. He snapped back into broker mode, brisk and practical.

"Understood. Then I’ll use ’Toji Fushiguro accepts and absolutely has the ability to complete the job’ as leverage, and have a nice long talk with those fat sheep in the Star Religious Group leadership about doubling the fee. Once the final number and details are locked in, I’ll contact you."

Click.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Only after the dial tone filled the room did Touma lower the phone from his ear.

The hard tension in his body drained away, and he let out a long breath full of stale air.

The reason he had pulled that move, the aggressive price hike and shameless gouging that had never happened in the original timeline or any previous simulation, was simple.

The situation had changed too much.

In the earliest simulations, the Satoru Gojo of this era was still a fledgling. A terrifying fledgling, sure, but still someone who could barely use Limitless for defense and Blue for suppression. Against an assassin with Toji’s experience, calling that version of Gojo a rookie was almost generous.

But now?

Thanks to the butterfly effect Touma had set loose, the Satoru Gojo standing beside Riko Amanai was no longer just good with Limitless and Blue.

He had already mastered Reverse Cursed Technique.

He had Red.

He had Hollow Purple.

What protected the Star Plasma Vessel now was basically a white-haired god strolling around in school uniform, spotless and without a real opening in sight.

Touma’s fear was very specific.

If the Toji he was playing did not project overwhelming greed and absolute confidence, if he did not make it look like he could handle Gojo no matter how strong Gojo had become, the Star Religious Group leadership might not bet everything on one assassin.

And if they hedged?

If fear pushed them into casting a wider net, hiring random Curse Users, or worse, dragging out hidden powers from deeper shadows that had never appeared in any simulation, the whole situation would spin out of Touma’s control.

His intelligence network would become useless.

And with threats coming from every direction, his chances of secretly protecting Riko Amanai’s life from the shadows would drop close to zero.

Because the truth was simple.

The cold-blooded killer’s skin he wore was only a mask.

The man underneath had already made a decision that was, by most standards, completely insane.

He was going to let Riko Amanai live.

Not as fuel for Tengen’s barrier.

Not as assimilation material to be sacrificed because some old system demanded it.

She would live as an ordinary girl. She would survive long enough to see what was beautiful about this world.

That was why Touma could sell Toji’s arrogant confidence to Shiu Kong without a single crack in the act.

The certainty was real.

Only the reason behind it was a lie.

This was not some rash burst of pity. Touma had reached this point through simulation after simulation, analysis after analysis, grinding the problem down until it had eaten him to the bone.

Idle sympathy had not driven the choice.

Something colder had helped push him here.

His eyes, the ones that seemed able to read the movement of fate itself, had noticed a pattern long ago.

The failure of the Star Plasma Vessel’s assimilation seemed to carry enormous strategic meaning for the hidden hand moving behind the curtain.

More importantly, after more than a decade of simulated lifetimes, after blood and fire repeated again and again, he had witnessed one brutal but hopeful fact.

In timelines where Riko Amanai’s assimilation failed, Japan did not collapse.

The world did not fall into the irreversible disaster the higher-ups loved threatening everyone with.

He had even heard it confirmed by Yuki Tsukumo herself, that wandering Special Grade Jujutsu Sorcerer with a personality that made taking her seriously harder than it needed to be.

According to her, the failure of the Star Plasma Vessel’s assimilation had not caused a fatal chain reaction in Tengen’s barriers.

Of course, Touma was not foolish enough to place unconditional faith in every word from a woman who seemed to treat permanent vacation as a lifestyle choice.

But if he stripped away the calculations, the risks, and all the strategic justifications, what remained at the center was much simpler.

There was a line he refused to cross.

Deep down, Touma could not accept a system that dragged innocent people onto an altar and called it necessary.

No rule in this world, no matter how ancient or rational it claimed to be, had the right to shove the consequences of some hypothetical future catastrophe onto the shoulders of one unrelated living girl.

Especially not when Riko Amanai herself had never truly accepted the sacrifice being forced onto her in the name of the greater good.

Touma could not approve of that verdict.

It was arrogant.

It was cruel.

And he hated it.

He knew he could not guarantee this massive butterfly effect would not create new disasters later. He understood that better than anyone. But the fire burning behind his dark eyes now belonged to someone who had already chosen.

He would take the weight of rewriting fate onto his own shoulders.

And when the consequences arrived, he would face them with his own hands.

Touma closed his eyes.

The turbulent thoughts in his mind compressed, flattened, and settled into something perfectly still.

"Begin the simulation..."

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