Tokyo was loud. Not just in the normal, bustling way, but in the way Ichigo Kurosaki had never quite experienced before. It wasn't the honking cars, the murmur of conversation, or even the occasional siren cutting through the city's heartbeat. No, it was something deeper—something thrumming beneath the surface, a constant buzz against his senses.
He frowned. This wasn't the spiritual pressure of Hollows, Shinigami, or even Quincy energy. It was something different. Something wrong.
"Alright, spill," Ichigo said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked alongside the man who had, in the span of ten minutes, managed to be one of the most obnoxious people he'd ever met. And considering the company he kept, that was saying a lot. "What the hell is with this city?"
Gojo Satoru grinned, adjusting his sunglasses with a flick of his fingers. "You mean besides me? Because, obviously, I'm the main attraction here."
Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. You and your giant ego."
"Glad we're on the same page!" Gojo strolled ahead, hands tucked behind his head. "But to actually answer your question—this is Tokyo Jujutsu High territory. Home of the strongest sorcerers, cursed spirits, and a whole lot of fun."
Ichigo scoffed. "Tch. Fun? I don't know what your idea of fun is, but if it involves whatever creepy energy I've been feeling since I got here, count me out."
"Oh, come on. You're a Shinigami, right?" Gojo tilted his head with a smirk. "You see ghosts. I see curses. Same thing."
Ichigo stopped walking. "It is not the same thing," he shot back, frowning. "Hollows are souls that have lost their way. Cursed spirits are—" He hesitated. "…Actually, what are they?"
Gojo turned to walk backward, his smirk widening. "The manifestation of negative emotions. Fear, hatred, pain. All the ugly little feelings people try to shove down. They fester, grow, and then—poof! You've got a hungry little monster running around."
Ichigo's expression darkened slightly. That was different. Hollows were lost souls, driven by instinct. But this? Spirits born from the worst of humanity's emotions?
"Sounds a hell of a lot worse than a Hollow."
"Right?" Gojo clapped him on the shoulder, ignoring the way Ichigo tensed. "That's why I'm here. To keep this beautiful city of ours safe from ugly spirit things."
Ichigo sighed, shaking off Gojo's hand. "Great. Another overpowered idiot to deal with."
Gojo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Ichigo! I thought we were bonding."
"Yeah, that's definitely not happening."
Still, Ichigo couldn't quite hide the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Gojo caught it instantly, grinning wider. "Oh-ho? You do like me."
"I really don't."
"Sure, sure." Gojo waved him off. "Anyway, since you're in my city now, how about I show you around? We can check out some cursed spirits, grab some food, maybe even get you a pair of sunglasses so you can match my whole 'too cool for the world' aesthetic."
Ichigo exhaled sharply. "I would rather fight a hundred Hollows than match any part of your aesthetic."
Gojo pouted. "Rude."
Just as Ichigo was about to fire back, the oppressive energy he'd been feeling since he arrived suddenly spiked. It was like the air itself had turned to sludge—thick, heavy, pressing against his skin. Instinctively, his hand went to Zangetsu's hilt, eyes narrowing as he turned toward the source.
Gojo, of course, was completely unfazed. In fact, he looked bored.
"Finally," the sorcerer drawled. "I was wondering when one of these guys would show up. Took long enough."
The air split open, a jagged tear forming in the alleyway to their left. From the darkness, something slithered forward—long, hunched, and twitching, its body covered in writhing black tendrils. Multiple eyes blinked out from different parts of its head, each one rolling wildly in its sockets before locking onto them.
Ichigo's grip on his sword tightened. "That's a cursed spirit?"
"Yup." Gojo cracked his neck. "Not a particularly strong one, though. More like a low-grade nuisance."
Ichigo tensed, ready to move—only for Gojo to step in front of him, grinning.
"Tell you what, Ichigo," he said, raising a finger. "Let's make this interesting."
Ichigo raised a brow. "…What."
"Consider this a test." Gojo gestured to the spirit, which was now emitting a garbled, static-like growl. "You handle this guy. No Bankai, no fancy Shinigami tricks—just your raw strength. Let's see what you can do without that spiritual pressure advantage."
Ichigo scoffed. "You're joking."
"I never joke about fighting," Gojo said, sounding offended. "Besides, you do like to punch things, don't you?"
Before Ichigo could argue, the cursed spirit lunged.
It was fast—faster than he expected. In an instant, its tendrils lashed out, aiming straight for him. Ichigo barely had time to react, dodging to the side as one of the appendages cracked the pavement where he'd been standing.
Gojo whistled. "Ooh, close one."
Ichigo gritted his teeth. "Tch. You're really not gonna help?"
Gojo yawned. "You've fought worse."
Ichigo didn't bother arguing. Fine. If Gojo wanted to see what he could do, then he'd show him.
The cursed spirit lunged again, its twisted maw splitting open to reveal rows of jagged teeth. Ichigo moved without thinking—ducking low, then driving his fist into the creature's gut. The impact sent a shockwave through the alley, the spirit's body bending inward before it was blasted backward, slamming into a nearby wall with a sickening crunch.
It twitched once. Then went still.
Gojo blinked.
Ichigo straightened, shaking off his hand. "There. Happy?"
A slow grin spread across Gojo's face. "Oh," he mused, stepping forward to inspect the damage. "Now that was interesting."
Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "What?"
Gojo turned to him, sunglasses catching the streetlights. "I said no spiritual pressure tricks. That means no reiatsu boost." He tilted his head. "So tell me, Ichigo—how the hell did you just punch a cursed spirit to death?"
Ichigo froze.
Gojo's grin widened. "Oh yeah. You and I? We're definitely gonna have some fun."