The Honored One, Chapter 62

Satoru stood at the edge of the skyscraper’s rooftop, hands tucked into his pockets, hood draped low over his eyes. From his vantage, he saw a vast sweep of Shibuya, its megalopolis spires piercing the swirling clouds high above. The sun dipped near the horizon, its dying light painting the sky in streaks of orange and crimson. The glare reflected on countless windows, making the entire city gleam like a molten sea of metal and glass.

He inhaled slowly, the air thin and crisp at this altitude. A breeze whipped at his cloak, causing it to flutter around his ankles. Below, Shibuya’s winding roads and labyrinthine alleys glowed with neon signs and flickering lanterns. On a normal day, Satoru might have paused to appreciate the spectacle. But he had business here, and time was short.

Behind him, Toji balanced on the rooftop’s ledge, squatting with one hand braced against the parapet. His tattered clothes flapped in the wind. His dark eyes roamed the cityscape, scanning it the way a cornered beast checks for predators.

Satoru glanced at the boy, noting the tension in his shoulders. 

“Nice view, huh?” he said, his voice calm.

Toji shrugged, keeping his gaze on the streets below. 

“Yeah,” he replied, tone curt. “Not many people come up here.”

Satoru nodded. He shifted his weight, leaning forward slightly to take in more of the sprawl. “You show me this spot for a reason?”

Toji snorted. 

“Not everything has a reason,” he said. Then he paused, eyes narrowing. “But I guess I wanted to see what you’d do. Most off-worlders get dizzy just thinking about the height.”

Satoru chuckled, lifting his hand to adjust the hood. 

“Height doesn’t bother me,” he said simply. His gaze lingered on the horizon, where the largest structure of all loomed, dwarfing even the tallest skyscrapers around it.

It was a fortress. A colossus. A mega-structure that seemed to claw its way from the planet’s surface right up into low orbit. Countless towers, walls, and buttresses bristled in the distance, forming a fortress that defied logic. The topmost spires vanished into the haze of the upper atmosphere. The thing dominated Shibuya’s skyline, overshadowing every other structure by orders of magnitude.

Satoru found himself smiling, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s Sukuna’s fortress.”

Toji shifted uncomfortably. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter. “That’s it.”

Satoru let out a low whistle. Even from miles away, the fortress emanated a sense of dread. 

“Never seen anything like it,” he murmured.

Toji hopped off the ledge, walking toward Satoru. He tilted his head, eyeing Satoru’s relaxed posture. “You wanted to see it up close?”

Satoru shrugged, still staring at the distant fortress. 

“I did,” he said. “Wanted to see what I’m up against.”

Toji frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean, ‘up against’?”

Satoru tapped one gloved finger on the edge of the parapet. “I’m here for a reason, kid. I need something from that fortress.”

Toji’s brow furrowed. “You’re joking.”

Satoru shook his head, the corners of his lips curling into a faint grin. “I’m dead serious. I need to… let’s say I need to do some ‘shopping’ in there.”

Toji scoffed, crossing his arms. “Shopping? That’s what you call a suicide mission?”

Satoru lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I’ve always liked living dangerously.”

Toji squared his stance, arms still crossed. The last rays of sunlight caught his features, illuminating the faint smudges of dirt on his cheeks. “So you’re going to break into Sukuna’s fortress?”

Satoru nodded. “Yes.”

Toji’s eyes widened a fraction, though he quickly masked it by turning his head aside. “That’s impossible. People have tried. No one even reached the first wall.”

Satoru tilted his head back, letting the wind brush across his hood and through the strands of his silver hair. 

“I’m not ‘people,’” he said, his voice soft.

Toji let out a harsh laugh. “You’re an off-worlder. You don’t get how it works here. Sukuna’s fortress is guarded by more than just high walls. The Devourers who retired stay there. They’re older than you can imagine, all of them veterans of thousands of battles. And they’re loyal to him. There are also Jujutsu Sorcerers who’d die rather than let anyone defile Sukuna’s territory.”

Satoru remained quiet, letting Toji’s words settle in the air.

Toji continued, each sentence clipped. “Plus, Men of Iron patrol the outer gates. They’re basically living war machines. I’ve seen them. They don’t feel pain, and they don’t hesitate.”

Satoru nodded slowly, turning his gaze to the fortress once more. “Sounds lively.”

Toji’s jaw tightened. 

“You’re insane,” he said. “That place is a fortress so huge it scrapes the upper atmosphere. You’d be stopped before you even made it inside.”

A grin tugged at Satoru’s mouth, the expression light but the gleam in his eyes unwavering. “Maybe. But I’m the type who enjoys a challenge.”

Toji exhaled, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Why would you even want something from there? You do realize Sukuna’s worshiped like a god here, right? Even though he’s been missing for ten thousand years, people still fear him. They respect him. The Devourers, the High Priests… they keep his will alive.”

Satoru didn’t respond immediately. He let the question hang, watching the fortress with an unreadable expression. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the city. The spires of Sukuna’s fortress took on a dark silhouette, majestic and foreboding.

After a long moment, Satoru spoke, voice low. “There’s a Necron Artifact in there. Something Sukuna stole ages ago. I need it for a… project.”

Toji narrowed his eyes. “A Necron Artifact?”

Satoru nodded. “I have my reasons.”

Toji paced away, boots scraping the rooftop’s surface. He paused at the other side, his gaze flicking downward to the distant streets, then back at Satoru. “Whatever your reasons, you won’t get through. The fortress is layered with wards, hidden Sorcerers, automated defenses… I’ve heard stories. The Kiryuin Clan once tried to send a scouting team in, just to see how secure it was. None of them came back.”

Satoru sighed, crossing his arms. “I’ve heard the rumors. But rumors are rumors. Maybe I’ll be the first to succeed.”

Toji stared at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

“You’re out of your mind,” he said. “And I want no part of it. If you want to go commit suicide, be my guest. Just leave me out of it.”

Satoru turned to face the boy fully, resting one hand on his hip. “You’re that scared of them, huh?”

Toji bristled, taking a step forward. “I’m not scared. I’m not stupid, either. Not like you.”

Satoru raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Easy. I’m just messing with you.”

Toji rolled his shoulders, tension crackling in the air around him. 

“You don’t get it,” he snapped. “If you step foot near that fortress, you’ll be hunted by all the big clans. They won’t let you waltz in and steal something that belongs to Sukuna. They’ll kill you. And if they catch me with you, they’ll kill me too.”

Satoru’s expression softened, just a fraction. “So you’re worried about me?”

Toji laughed, but it came out harsh. “Worried about myself, idiot. Don’t assume I care what happens to you.”

Satoru let out a small chuckle. “Fair enough.”

They stood there in silence for a few heartbeats, the wind ruffling Toji’s hair. Finally, Satoru sighed. “Look, I get it. You’re trying to survive, and me barging in might stir up trouble. But I can handle trouble.”

Toji let out a derisive snort. “You’re not invincible. If you think raw strength will solve everything, then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

Satoru grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Raw strength, huh?”

He took a step closer, turning so he stood side-on to Toji. Then he lifted a hand, tapping his chest lightly. “Punch me,” he said, voice casual.

Toji frowned. “What?”

“Punch me,” Satoru repeated, dropping his arms to his sides, leaving himself wide open. “Aim for my face if you want. I won’t block.”

Toji stared, confusion flicking across his features. Then a slow, reluctant tension built in his stance. 

“Fine,” he said, setting his jaw. “But don’t blame me if I break something.”

Satoru’s grin widened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Toji inhaled, bracing himself. He balled his fist tight. Then, in a burst of motion, he launched a punch aimed straight at Satoru’s jaw. His movement was quick, a fluid sweep of muscles and momentum—shockingly precise for a kid his age.

But the strike never connected.

Toji’s fist stopped inches from Satoru’s face, as if an invisible barrier held it at bay. No impact. No pushback. It simply halted, an inch short. Toji’s eyes narrowed, confusion and frustration flickering there. He pressed forward, every muscle straining, but his punch refused to move any closer.

Satoru remained still, his expression calm. 

“That’s Infinity,” he said simply. “A little trick of mine.”

Toji’s fist trembled, tension rippling through his arm as he tried to force it forward. Beads of sweat formed on the boy’s temple. But Satoru stood unaffected, hands at his sides, hood still casting a shadow over his eyes.

Finally, Toji let out a sharp exhale, pulling his fist back. He glared at Satoru, chest heaving. “Some kind of barrier technique?”

Satoru nodded, turning his face slightly so Toji could see the faint curve of his lips. “Something like that. Basically, any attack you throw at me never reaches me. It slows to nothing. I can adjust it on the fly, turn it off or on. But right now, I feel like not getting punched in the face.”

Toji’s frown deepened. He flexed his fingers, as if testing for numbness. “So you’re a monster.”

Satoru chuckled. “I’ve been called worse.”

Toji relaxed his stance, dropping his arms to his sides. He let out a slow breath, his gaze shifting back to the fortress in the distance. “Even if you have some unstoppable defense, that doesn’t mean you’ll be able to get inside. The guardians there… they all have crazy abilities too. Some might even handle your Infinity. I’ve heard rumors about the High Priests using domain-level spells, about Devourers who can cut through space itself.”

Satoru shrugged. “Could be rumors. Could be real. Either way, I plan on finding out.”

Toji shook his head, stepping away from him. 

“You’re insane,” he said flatly. “And I told you. Leave me out of it.”

Satoru lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “You’re so negative, kid. At least consider the possibility that I might pull it off.”

Toji turned his back on him, folding his arms. “I’m done talking about it. This is your funeral, not mine.”

Satoru watched him for a moment, the corners of his lips quirking into a faint smile. The sun had dipped halfway below the horizon, casting the city in shades of purple and gold. The fortress, now half-bathed in darkness, looked even more imposing.

He walked to the edge of the rooftop again, letting the wind whip at his cloak. 

“I don’t expect you to get involved,” he said, voice quiet. “But I had to let you know. If things get messy and bombs start flying… well, you deserve a heads-up.”

Toji stood still, arms still crossed. He said nothing, but Satoru sensed the boy’s silent tension.

A long moment stretched. The city below them pulsed with life, the hum of Sorcerers, the glow of neon lights, the swirl of cursed energy that gave Shibuya its pulse. Satoru closed his eyes, inhaling the crisp air.

In the distance, he heard a faint rumble of skyships passing overhead, likely belonging to one of the great clans. The war machines soared between the spires, their lights flashing against the twilight. A testament to Shibuya’s potent mix of tradition and advanced technology.

He turned back to Toji, opening his eyes. “I’ll need to gather more intel on that fortress. The outer gates, guard rotations, wards, everything. Unless you know something else you haven’t mentioned.”

Toji gave a short, humorless grunt. “All I know is that no one’s ever broken in. The Devourers who retired there are legends. Some of them fought in wars that spanned hundreds of years. The High Priests can call upon Sukuna’s power - not sure how that works. Even if he’s not here physically, his influence is strong. People say his curses still roam the fortress halls.”

Satoru raised a brow. “Curses?”

Toji nodded. “They call them Sukuna’s Shadows. Some say they’re bits of his soul left behind, or maybe his personal curses stored for emergencies. I’ve heard a few rumors about visitors who saw them. The stories aren’t pretty.”

Satoru whistled softly, turning his gaze back to the fortress. “So, booby traps, curses, unstoppable guardians, and a literal nest of Devourers. And if that’s not enough, we have the High Priests running the show.”

Toji set his jaw, staring at the horizon. 

“It’s suicide,” he repeated, as if trying to drill the point into Satoru’s head.

Satoru only shrugged. “Challenges make life interesting.”

Toji rolled his eyes, letting silence settle again.

A soft beep sounded from somewhere within Satoru’s cloak, an almost musical chirp. He reached in and withdrew a small device – a communicator of sorts. He glanced at the readout, noting a short message in a script unfamiliar to Shibuya. Probably one of the Aeldari or Drukhari from the starship overhead. They might be checking on him, ensuring he hadn’t died yet.

He pocketed the device, exhaling softly. “Well, I guess that’s my cue. The folks upstairs want a status update.”

Toji turned to face him, curiosity flickering in his dark eyes. “You really have people off-world, backing you up?”

Satoru smiled. “That’s one way to put it. We work together, but they’re also my biggest fans because they keep calling me Britheim and whatnot.”

Toji said nothing, but his stare lingered on Satoru’s face, as though trying to read him.

Satoru patted his pockets, making sure he had everything. “Tell you what, kid. I won’t drag you into my plan, and I won’t get in your way. But if you change your mind—”

Toji shook his head. “I won’t.”

Satoru shrugged. “Fine. But if you do, you know where to find me. I’ll be poking around, gathering info, scouting the fortress. Should be fun.”

Toji scoffed. “Fun, he says.”

Satoru merely grinned. He turned his back on the fortress, adjusting his cloak. Then he paused, glancing at Toji once more. “One piece of advice, though.”

Toji raised a brow, waiting.

“Don’t let anyone make you think you’re worthless. No cursed energy or not, you’ve got heart, guts, and will. And that’s more dangerous than any technique.”

Toji frowned, a flicker of conflict crossing his face. “Whatever.”

Satoru gave a short laugh. “You’ll see. Anyway, take care of yourself, kid.”

He stepped toward the rooftop’s edge, peering down at the city’s dizzying drop. Streets glowed with neon, lines of traffic weaving under the flicker of tall, curved spires. He felt the wind tug at his cloak, felt the warmth from the city’s artificial lights.

Toji lingered behind him, arms still crossed, posture guarded.

Satoru lifted one foot, letting it hover over the drop. Then, with a slight push, he dropped from the edge, letting the air rush past him. His Infinity cushioned him, the world blurring as he soared downward, cloak billowing. He heard Toji let out a sharp exhale – or was it just the wind rushing in his ears? – but he didn’t look back.

He angled his descent, pressing Blue to shift the space around him, gliding between spires and walkways. Lights flashed by in brilliant streaks, the city’s heartbeat pounding in his ears. He wore a grin, adrenaline mingling with the hum of cursed energy that enveloped Shibuya.

In mere seconds, he touched down on a deserted walkway somewhere near the city’s lower levels. He exhaled, cloak settling around him, heart thudding in his chest. He glanced up at the rooftops overhead, but Toji was long out of sight.

He made a mental note: gather data on Sukuna’s fortress. Confirm guard schedules, wards, and infiltration points. Then, locate the artifact. Then, somehow, slip away before the entire planet turned on him.

Simple enough, he thought wryly. But that was part of the thrill.

He stepped into the crowd, hood pulled up once more. Around him, Sorcerers and ordinary folk bustled, neon signs reflecting off the polished metal of the walkways. Holographic billboards flickered overhead, announcing clan news, Sorcerer tournaments, or clan-run educational programs. He allowed himself a moment of curiosity, scanning the advertisements.

A flicker of Sukuna’s crest, displayed large on a billboard, caught his eye. Next to it, an announcement scrolled: High Priests declare an upcoming festival in Sukuna’s honor. All Sorcerer families to attend.

Satoru tilted his head. A festival, is it? Might be the perfect time to slip into the fortress if everyone’s busy celebrating. He tucked that snippet of information away, quickening his pace down the walkway.

A few minutes later, he found himself in a quieter district, the chatter of the main streets replaced by the hum of machinery buried within the city’s architecture. He stopped at a corner, leaning against a slender metal column, thinking of Toji’s warnings. The mention of Devourers, retired or not, made his pulse flutter with anticipation. And the High Priests, said to wield Sukuna’s blessing. He couldn’t wait to see what they had in store.

He replayed Toji’s words in his mind. Kiryuin, Arasaka, Aragami, Yamamoto, Mifune, High Priests. The major players in Shibuya’s grand chessboard. No cursed energy or not, the boy knew a lot. Satoru wondered if that knowledge came from living on the streets, hearing rumors from every possible source. Or if the boy had once been close to some Sorcerer clan.

He sighed softly. Too many questions, not enough answers. But for now, at least, he had a starting point. He shoved off the column, resuming his trek through the city’s winding paths.

A faint beep in his cloak signaled another incoming message from the starship. Likely Lelith or an Asuryani official, checking on him again. He smiled to himself. They’d be very interested to learn about the fortress. But he’d keep them waiting a while. Let them sweat.

He weaved through narrow alleys, stepping over stray cables and piping that snaked along the ground. Some passersby glanced at him, eyes catching the glint of his half-obscured face under the hood, but he offered them no reason to stop him. He was just another traveler in a city teeming with Sorcerers, vagrants, and everything in between.

Eventually, he reached a small, open square, ringed by tiered platforms. Lights glowed from circular lanterns, casting the area in a soft glow. A single statue stood in the square’s center, depicting a tall Sorcerer in ancient robes, one hand raised as though casting a ward. The plaque beneath read: Shigure the Barrier Master. Satoru passed it by, only half-interested.

He found a bench near the edge of the square and settled onto it, arms stretched along the backrest. This was a decent vantage to watch the crowds and reflect on his next move. He took a slow breath, letting the city’s energy wash over him. He felt a thousand curses swirling in the atmosphere, the byproduct of so many Sorcerers and their daily lives. Yet, the planet itself hummed with relative peace - no major conflicts broke out at this hour, and the overall vibe was one of routine. Cursed Spirits wouldn’t last a minute on this planet with all the Jujutsu Sorcerers running around. 

He tapped his foot lightly, thinking about Sukuna’s fortress. A monstrous construct rising all the way to the skies. The first step would be to confirm how the walls were manned, how the gates operated, how those Men of Iron patrolled. Then he had to figure out how to bypass them - or pass through them without raising alarms.

One corner of his mind reminded him that this might be simpler if he unleashed a spectacle, a big enough distraction to draw all eyes away from his infiltration path. But that would risk injuring civilians and possibly turning the entire city against him. He didn’t want that. Stealth was the plan. Slip in, slip out, no mass casualties.

That said, if he ran out of ideas, then he was going to make the largest Hollow Purple and throw it right at the fortress - or, maybe, he use Hollow Technique: White - just for the hell of it.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, recalling the short exchange he’d had with Toji on the rooftop. The boy’s determination and cynicism all came from real experience. Shibuya was tough. People like Toji had to be tougher to survive. And yet… Satoru couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy might still have a role to play in this.

But, eh, whatever. Fate did as it did.

He headed toward a larger boulevard, neon signs reflecting off his cloak, the crowds thickening once more. Sorcerers strolled in pairs or groups, some carrying staves or swords, others letting small, ephemeral cursed spirits float around them like pets. He overheard fragments of conversation: talk of clan politics, rumors of upcoming tournaments, gossip about the High Priests’ recent decisions.

A cluster of younger Sorcerers wearing matching uniforms passed him, their expressions haughty, though they paused briefly to eye him with mild curiosity. He offered them a nod, but they looked away, continuing on. Probably from some top-tier academy funded by one of the major clans.

He took a left down a side street, scanning the signage for something that might indicate an information broker or a seedy bar where rumors flowed freely. Every city had one. Shibuya would be no exception, especially with so many Sorcerer families and alliances.

A flicker of motion caught his eye - a small sign shaped like an open scroll. He moved closer, reading the inscriptions that flickered with faint cursed energy: Enlightened Archives: Guidance, Scrying, Consultation. He grinned. Sounded like an overpriced fortune-teller’s hut, but maybe they had leads on fortress defenses.

He stepped inside. Incense assaulted his nose, thick and sweet, filling a cramped interior lit by swirling glyphs. A middle-aged woman sat behind a low desk, her robe embroidered with archaic symbols that glowed softly. She looked up, surprise crossing her features for just a second before she composed herself.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice quavering. “Looking for guidance?”

Satoru offered a casual shrug. “Something like that. Need info on the fortress. Sukuna’s fortress.”

Her eyes widened. She lowered them quickly, swallowing. “We… we don’t talk about that.”

Satoru moved closer, hooking his thumbs in his belt. “I just need to know how it’s guarded. Doesn’t have to be detailed. Just a sense of who’s on watch.”

The woman’s grip on her desk tightened. She licked her lips, lowering her voice. “I can’t help you. The clans… they watch. If they find out-”

Satoru gave a small nod, cutting her off gently. 

“I get it. You’re scared. But I pay well.” He withdrew a wad of currency from his cloak, the stolen bully tax plus a bit more.

She looked at the money, eyes flickering between it and his hooded face. Her breath caught, then she reached out, taking a single note as if testing if it were real. “You’re serious.”

“Very. So are you gonna talk, or do I find someone else?”

She let out a trembling sigh, eyes flitting to the door, to the narrow windows, as though expecting clan enforcers to barge in. “The fortress is sealed. The outer wall is manned by Men of Iron who rotate every three hours. Retired Devourers watch the inner gates. The High Priests have wards that detect intruders who use cursed energy.”

Satoru raised his eyebrows. He already knew most of that. “That last part is interesting.”

She nodded quickly. “They say it’s a system that pings the entire fortress if someone tries to breach it with cursed techniques. Also, there are roving patrols of specialized Sorcerers - some from each clan - who keep the fortress in top shape. Even the Kiryuin don’t mess around there.”

Satoru considered her words, letting them sink in. “And what if someone doesn’t use cursed techniques? What if they just… walk?”

She blinked, confusion flickering on her face. “Walk? That’s not possible. The Men of Iron patrol every corridor. Some sections require flight. Or teleportation. And the wards would detect that. They monitor everything.”

Satoru smirked. “Hmm. Good to know.”

She stared at him, a mix of apprehension and curiosity. “Are you… trying to commit suicide?”

He slipped the rest of the money onto her desk. “Let’s call it an adventure.”

She tentatively took the bills, hands shaking. 

“You’ll get yourself killed,” she muttered.

“People keep telling me that,” Satoru said with a grin. “Yet I’m still here.”

He turned to leave, but paused. “Thanks for the info. If anyone asks, I was never here.”

She nodded, clutching the money as though it might vanish. 

“I never saw you,” she whispered.

With that, Satoru stepped back into the alleyway, letting the door slide shut behind him. He pulled his hood tighter, scanning the dim corridor for any watchers. Satisfied that none lingered, he walked briskly toward the main road, weaving through the crowds once again.

So, if cursed energy triggered wards, maybe the solution was to rely on Infinity alone, or possibly minimal cursed power. He could also recruit Toji - someone without cursed energy - to handle certain parts. That was interesting. But the boy wanted no part of it and Satoru wasn’t about to force him into anything.

He strolled, thoughts churning. The illusions of normalcy that Shibuya offered felt surreal. Vendors hawked wares on every corner, children practiced mini curses in the streets, clan members flaunted their family crests. All the while, that monstrous fortress towered in the distance, a looming threat overshadowing every single soul here.

He eventually found another quiet spot - a small park nestled between two tall buildings. A single lamp cast a circle of light over a bench, with a few twisted trees growing from managed planters. He sat there, leaning his head back against the bench, eyes half-lidded.

The city’s hum lulled him, the air cooler here, tinged with the faint fragrance of night-blooming flowers. Through the gaps in the buildings, he caught another glimpse of Sukuna’s fortress, still rising to the sky like a monument of nightmares. He pictured it in his mind: labyrinthine corridors, mechanical guardians, wards that could detect cursed energy, and at the heart of it all, a Necron Artifact that could influence the fate of a galaxy.

He found himself smirking. Maybe it really was suicidal. But, as he’d told Toji, challenges made life interesting.

He closed his eyes, letting his senses expand, feeling the city’s pulse. He sensed thousands, if not millions, of Sorcerers swirling about, each unique like a star in the night. He sorted through them in his mind, searching for anomalies, for clusters that might indicate a staging ground for fortress defenders.

He detected the faint signals of heavy cursed energies far off in the fortress’s direction - likely Devourers. Another swirl of distinct auras flickered in the city’s southwestern quadrant, possibly a clan gathering or training. The rest was a mosaic of everyday life.

He reopened his eyes, releasing a slow breath. He’d get a few hours of rest, maybe. Then he’d start. He had a fortress to scout, an artifact to steal, and a planet full of Sorcerers to evade.

He let himself imagine the break-in. The outer wall - thick enough to withstand starship bombardment. The Men of Iron, patrolling in unison. If one so much as spotted him, alarms would sound. The wards that detected cursed techniques. The retired Devourers, each with centuries of combat experience. The High Priests, who could channel Sukuna’s lingering might.

He felt a thrill race up his spine, goosebumps forming on his arms. The puzzle was enormous, the challenge insane, but that was precisely why it excited him.

Drawing his cloak tighter, he rose from the bench. He started walking again, heading toward a district that, from what he could sense, housed smaller inns and lodging houses. He’d secure a place to lie low for the night, somewhere off the main roads, a spot where no one would ask too many questions about a hooded off-worlder.

As he walked, he felt that subtle vibrancy of Shibuya once more - the hum of a million Sorcerers living their lives, the layered tapestry of ancient tradition and futuristic innovation. He suspected that, in some twisted way, Sukuna would appreciate how his people had thrived, forging a unique society from the ashes of conflict. And he knew, for a fact, that Geto would’ve loved this place. 

Soon, the glowing sign of a modest inn caught his eye. A single, glowing orb suspended near the door displayed the inn’s name in stylized characters. He approached the inn, stepping into the small lobby. A bored-looking attendant glanced up, raising an eyebrow at his hooded form, but said nothing, just inclined their head in a questioning way.

Satoru fished out some of the stolen currency. 

“One room,” he said simply.

The attendant took the money, nodded, and handed him a small key card inscribed with faint runes. Satoru offered a polite smile, then made his way upstairs to a cramped room that smelled faintly of incense and cleaning agent.

He shut the door behind him, dropping onto the narrow bed with a sigh. The worn mattress creaked, the small lamp overhead flickering once. He let Infinity relax, ceding partial control so he could feel the city’s energies in more detail. Once again, his senses roamed, searching for any sign of watchers or pursuers. None came up. Good. But, once again, he wouldn’t be too surprised if he awoke the next day, surrounded by angry Devourers; this was their homeworld, after all. 

The room’s single window offered a partial view of the skyline, where he saw the fortress still dominating the distance.

He allowed himself a moment of silent planning: He’d recon the outskirts first, see where the supply lines entered, or if there were any covert infiltration routes. Maybe check how the local clans interacted with the fortress, see if shipments or tributes regularly moved in and out. If the High Priests demanded monthly offerings, there might be wagons or cargo ships he could slip onto.

He also considered the possibility of going by air - maybe approach from the upper spires. But that would be more heavily guarded, likely. The retired Devourers posted on the high towers were probably the strongest of the strong, each armed with centuries of combat knowledge. They might handle Infinity in ways he couldn’t predict.

He smirked. 

Well, that’s half the fun, he thought.

Images of the fortress soared through his mind, conjuring elaborate mental models of each potential entry point. He did this until his eyelids grew heavy. Eventually, he let out a long yawn, deciding that rest was necessary. He didn’t need it as often now, considering he had infinite Cursed Energy, but it felt nice. Morning would come soon enough.

He took off his cloak, folding it on a small wooden chair beside the bed, then loosened his boots. Infinity remained a subtle hum around him, ready if needed, but otherwise unobtrusive. He gave one last glance at the fortress’s faint silhouette in the distance before lying back on the lumpy mattress, arms crossed behind his head.

His last thought was of his students - of Yuji, of the real Nobara and not the weird Cursed Spirit thing he’d bound to himself, and of Megumi. There was an odd melancholy that’d steadily been catching up to him, one that Satoru had been doing his best to ignore. He couldn’t ignore it now. Wanting to become a god, saving the Galaxy from a C’tan, and then restoring the Aeldari or whatever… all of those things were there just to fill a gap - an emptiness - in his soul. He was far more powerful now than he’d ever been and yet… yet he’d never felt weaker.