At the end of the battle between Satoru and Sukuna in Shibuya, there was the flash of Hollow Purple clashing with Sukuna's condenesed domains, followed by the blood-red light that blanketed several city blocks when Malevolent Shrine was expanded.
These scenes could not be entirely covered up.
Even though Window and the Jujutsu Higher-Ups had initiated the highest level of information control and area lockdown before the battle began, the information network of modern society was simply too dense. The intensity of information exchange far exceeded that of previous eras, compounded by the sheer incompetence of the Jujutsu Higher-Ups.
Abnormal energy bursts on satellite imagery, eerie seismic waves captured by seismographs, large-scale unnatural communication outages and traffic paralysis around the Shibuya area... and most unavoidable of all were the survivors who had luckily escaped the initial lockdown zone or witnessed parts of the terrifying scenes from the periphery.
Their phones had captured shaky, blurred footage that was nonetheless enough to trigger primal fear: the sky bleeding, buildings melting, incomprehensible shadows and light intertwining... and that suffocating pressure that could be felt even through a screen.
Within hours of the battle's conclusion, rumors began to breed and spread like a virus in the dark corners of the internet and private chat groups, mixing fragments of truth with absurd imagination, eventually merging into an undercurrent called 'Unknown Panic.'
The authorities, amidst a deathly silence, were pushed to the forefront by this undercurrent.
[Government Emergency Press Conference]
In front of the camera, the Chief Cabinet Secretary's face was a bloodless, forced-calm gray.
On the screen behind him, a concise and cold title appeared: 'Preliminary Report on the Extraordinary Multi-Hazard Disaster in Shibuya District, Tokyo.'
"...The extraordinary multi-hazard disaster that occurred yesterday evening in Shibuya, triggered by a coupling of multiple extreme natural factors and a chain of underground pipeline accidents, has now been largely brought under control. Rescue efforts are in full swing."
"According to preliminary statistics, this disaster has caused significant casualties."
He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes avoided the camera directly in front of him, dropping slightly to the manuscript in his hands. Those few thin pages seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.
"The currently confirmed death toll is approximately... 100,000."
"The number of missing people is still being tallied."
"The disaster-affected areas are mainly concentrated around Shibuya Station and parts of Yoyogi Park. The government has established a Supreme Countermeasures Headquarters to fully treat the injured, settle the affected citizens, and thoroughly investigate the cause of the accident."
100,000.
This number traveled through the airwaves, across the entire nation, and to the world.
It was no longer the ambiguous 'many people' or 'heavy casualties' from online rumors, but a cold, officially endorsed figure carrying the weight of precise statistics.
100,000.
The daily foot traffic in Shibuya might far exceed this number, but when prefixed with 'death' and compressed into a 'disaster' lasting only a few hours, its weight was enough to cause a brief mental blankness in anyone who heard it.
Social media exploded after an initial deathly silence.
At first, it was an overwhelming flood of '???????' and '!!!!!!!,' with pure emotional symbols crowding the timelines. Immediately following were incredulous interrogations.
"100,000?! Are you kidding me? Was there a typo in the number? 100,000?"
"Shibuya... yesterday? I was shopping in Shibuya yesterday afternoon. Then they suddenly said all the trains stopped and the signal was gone. So it wasn't a normal accident?"
"Multi-hazard disaster? What kind of disaster can kill 100,000 people at once? A meteor strike? Why was there no warning at all?!"
"What exactly is the government hiding?! Those videos! What were those red things in the sky?! Why did the buildings melt like candles?!"
"My uncle works nearby. I can't reach him. Where is the rescue list being published?! Please, is there any news from the scene?"
"100,000 people... 100,000 people... This isn't an accident anymore, this is a massacre!"
Panic began to ferment and quickly transformed into anger and skepticism.
The official narrative of a 'multi-hazard disaster' appeared pale, weak, and even somewhat ridiculous in the face of those circulating video clips that, while blurry, were clearly 'unnatural.'
People are not fools, especially the young people who grew up in the information age. They have seen all kinds of special effects and can distinguish between CGI and the reality captured by a trembling phone that triggers an instinctive shiver.
Conspiracy theories grew like weeds.
Some said it was a new weapon test gone out of control, some said it was an alien invasion, and others dug up various urban legends and ancient ghost stories to link them to the tragedy before them.
Shibuya, this mecca representing fashion, vitality, and youth, turned overnight into a place of nameless horror shrouded in blood-mist in the hearts of countless people.
And even more ordinary people, who had no direct connection to Shibuya, fell into a deeper, viscous unease after the initial shock.
It was the fear of 'daily life' being easily torn to shreds.
A bustling, prosperous district yesterday became a graveyard with 100,000 dead today.
The familiar streetscape seen on TV yesterday might have become the burial ground for relatives today.
The skyscrapers that felt rock-solid yesterday twisted and melted like butter today under an invisible force.
This cognitive dissonance brought about a dizzying sensation of foundations being shaken.
"Is the world we live in... actually safe?"
"If this happened in Shibuya, could it happen in my city, my neighborhood tomorrow?"
"Those people at the top, do they really know what happened? Can they protect us?"
A silent, cold fear began to permeate the social fabric. People still went to work and school, but the sound of conversation was lower, smiles were fewer, and eyes held more vigilance and bewilderment.
On the trains, more people kept their heads down scrolling through their phones, desperately trying to piece together the 'truth' from fragments of information while simultaneously fearing they might see more cruel images.
The night streets seemed to fall silent earlier than usual, as people hurried home and locked their doors and windows, as if that invisible threat were lurking in the darkness.
Trust in the government plummeted, and calls for a thorough public investigation grew louder. But at the same time, another voice began to emerge—a tired, almost numb acceptance.
"Even if we knew the truth, what could we do?"
"100,000 people died... what kind of thing can kill 100,000 people instantly? Even if we knew, what could we ordinary people do?"
"Maybe it's better not to know. Knowing might only lead to more despair."
In the face of a massive disaster beyond the scope of understanding, some chose psychological self-isolation, re-burying themselves in the trivia of daily life, as if by not looking and not thinking, the shadow of 100,000 deaths wouldn't loom over their own heads. This was a form of weakness, but also a survival instinct under extreme pressure.
Inside the Jujutsu World, or rather, the remnants of it that could still function normally, another kind of deathly silence reigned.
Inside the meeting room of the Higher-Ups, smoke filled the air, yet no one coughed. Everyone's face looked even worse than the officials outside. It was a grayness mixed with despair, fear, and deep-seated powerlessness.
100,000.
To them, this number had a more concrete and bloody meaning. It wasn't just death, a significant portion of it was the karmic burden of negative emotions squeezed out through extreme fear and pain, catalyzed into Cursed Spirits, or directly annihilated by the aftershocks of the battle.
The Shibuya area would likely be a breeding ground for Cursed Spirits for a long time to come, perhaps even a nest for the birth of Special Grade Cursed Spirits.
And the price paid for all this resulted in—Satoru, confirmed dead.
Sukuna, fully resurrected, status unknown but undoubtedly more terrifying than imagined.
Kenjaku, still lurking in the shadows.
Significant combatants like Nanami, Maki (critically injured), Toge (critically injured)...
A massive number of Jujutsu Sorcerers were casualties or had lost their ability to fight.
They lost.
A total defeat.
Reports from 'Window' flew in like snowflakes. Besides disaster statistics, most were reports of suddenly surging Cursed Spirit sightings and suspected curse incidents across the country.
The death of Satoru seemed to be not just the disappearance of the strongest combatant, but more like the removal of a massive stabilizing anchor. The balance of all Japan—no, perhaps the whole world—was undergoing some kind of shift.
Without Satoru, a Sukuna who disrupted the balance even further had appeared.
The panic of ordinary people itself was giving birth to more curses.
Masamichi sat in a corner, silently stroking a damaged Cursed Corpse in his arms.
Panda stood quietly behind him, wrapped in bandages.
Shoko was not there, she had been working continuously between the operating room and the makeshift morgue for over twenty-four hours, using her near-miraculous Reverse Cursed Technique to desperately snatch one critically injured companion or lucky Assistant Supervisor after another from the jaws of death, but it was a drop in the ocean.
She couldn't save 100,000 people, nor could she even save all the injured Jujutsu Sorcerers.
Mei Mei received astronomical remittance notifications—from certain zaibatsu and politicians eager to understand the 'inside story.'
She looked at the increasing zeros in her account, yet there wasn't a trace of a smile on her face. She merely flipped a coin in her hand, her gaze deep, thinking of who knows what.
She might have 'seen' parts of the future long ago, but seeing it and personally experiencing these purgatorial consequences were weights of a different magnitude.
The young Jujutsu Sorcerers—Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara—were mandated to stay within Jujutsu High to 'recuperate' and 'remain on standby.'
In reality, they were isolated.
On one hand for protection, and on the other to prevent them from acting irrationally in their emotional instability.
Grief? Anger? Pain?
They felt it all, but mostly they felt bewildered.
Satoru was gone. That strongest who always seemed to stand at the front, saying with the most arrogant smile, "It's fine, I'm here," was gone.
The road ahead was pitch black, the enemy was powerful enough to cause despair, and they themselves were far from ready.
Meanwhile, in a small town far from Tokyo, in an ordinary household.
A middle-aged man stared blankly at the television as it repeatedly played heavily censored footage of the 'disaster area' and scenes of officials bowing in apology.
His wife wept silently beside him, clutching a photograph—in the photo, their teenage daughter was wearing trendy Shibuya fashion, smiling brightly at the famous Shibuya scramble crossing.
Their daughter had gone to Tokyo three days ago for a school reunion, promised to be back last night, and then... communication was cut off.
The man suddenly stood up abruptly, grabbed his car keys, and rushed out.
"Where are you going?!" His wife asked in alarm.
"To Shibuya! To find her!" The man's voice was hoarse, carrying a desperate madness.
"But... but it's already locked down! It's dangerous! And... and..." His wife couldn't go on, her tears flowing uncontrollably.
The man stopped at the door, his back to his wife, his shoulders trembling violently.
How could he not know that the hope was slim?
100,000 people...
But he couldn't not go, he had to do something. Even if it was just to confirm the worst result, it was better than sitting at home being swallowed by this boundless number.
He eventually rushed out of the house, the car engine roaring as he drove toward the direction that had already become a synonym for death.
On his home television screen, the news ticker was still scrolling: "...The government calls on the public to remain calm, not to believe or spread rumors, and to cooperate with rescue and investigation efforts. Follow-up information will continue to be released..."
Outside the window, under a lead-gray sky, fine snowflakes began to drift down.
This winter seemed exceptionally cold.