Far from the city's cursed hum, deep within the scarred roots of Mount Nokogiri, Riku sat alone.
He hadn't spoken a word in three days.
Not since he'd defeated Seido.
Not since he'd almost lost control of Cleave again.
Not since he'd heard the bone-deep whisper in his soul:
> "You're still not enough."
So, he'd chosen silence.
The monks at the hidden shrine had accepted his presence without question. They were mute by vow. And they knew what he was. Or rather, what clung to him.
Every night, they lit incense.
Every morning, they bowed without looking him in the eyes.
Riku didn't sleep. Instead, he meditated in the temple's frozen courtyard, shirtless, legs folded, silver hair kissed by moonlight. Cursed energy pulsed from his body in slow, powerful waves—like the sea at war with itself.
By the fourth night, he stopped resisting it. He let the energy consume him—let the silence become deafening.
Inside his mind, Sukuna's legacy stirred.
Not his voice. Not a possession.
But an echo. A wrathful instinct, always hungry, always whispering about dominion.
> "Your power is meant to rule. Not blend. Take. Destroy. Shape the world as a cursed king."
Riku's golden eyes snapped open.
"No," he whispered aloud.
It was the first word he had spoken in nearly a week.
"I won't become you," he added, rising slowly.
But the truth? A part of him already had.
And that part needed to be refined—not denied.
The Chimera Shadow Garden was next.
A perfect dimension of shadows and cursed energy.
He'd barely scratched its surface.
So, standing at the edge of the cliff behind the shrine, he extended his arms—and let the shadows pour out.
> "Ten Shadows Technique: Chimera Shadow Garden."
The mountain plateau disappeared into darkness.
Dozens of shikigami danced in silence around him—divine dogs prowled, rabbit illusions darted, Nue circled overhead. Max Elephant stood in the background like a living mountain.
But Riku wasn't training them.
He was training himself.
Movement.
Clarity.
Control.
Every technique he summoned, he let it attack him. Not as a test of pain—but of timing.
Cleave's feedback still burned inside his muscles. One wrong thought, one incorrect cursed output, and he'd hurt himself again.
But as the hours passed…
His footwork sharpened.
His cursed energy manipulation refined.
He began reading his own summons' intentions by aura alone. Predicting their movement. Synchronizing.
Until finally—he danced between shadows and strikes like a cursed wind.
By the end of the fifth night, Max Elephant's charge was met with a single hand raised—
> "Cleave: Axis Shift."
One strike, precise and without waste, redirected the massive summon mid-charge, dispersing it harmlessly into mist.
He stood alone once more.
Breathing hard, but upright.
A soft clap echoed behind him.
He turned.
Aira stood in the shadow of the cliff entrance, her eyes unusually soft.
"You haven't messaged us. You haven't eaten," she said.
"I was busy."
"You were punishing yourself," she corrected.
He said nothing.
Then she walked forward, stopping just before him. She reached up—hesitated—then touched the edge of the scar on his shoulder. The one left by his own Cleave.
"You're trying to be perfect," she said. "But you're not. None of us are."
He looked at her. "I have to be."
She frowned. "Why?"
"Because I'm not just a boy anymore. I'm… what he left behind." He gestured to his chest. "I'm the ghost of a monster, trying to pretend I'm not."
Aira's voice lowered.
"You are not Sukuna."
"I know," Riku whispered. "But that doesn't mean I don't feel him… sometimes."
The wind shifted.
She leaned forward, her forehead touching his.
"You're not alone. We'll fight whatever comes—together."
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then a breeze passed through the cliff. And in the distance, lightning rumbled. A premonition.
Momo's voice crackled on Aira's communicator.
> "Hey, guys? Hate to ruin your secret training honeymoon, but we've got a cursed outbreak near the school. It's bad. Real bad."
Riku stepped back.
His hands no longer trembled.
He smiled faintly.
"Let's go."