The 5th Special Grade | Jujutsu Kaisen

Furōkawa stared at his bloodied hands, the serene green river lapping gently at the edge of his feet. The pain in his gut was gone, replaced by an unsettling numbness. He clenched his fists, his chest tightening with bitter disappointment. I failed.

His mind replayed the promises he had made—to Emilia, to himself, to return alive no matter what. Now he stood in this surreal place, devoid of life, convinced it could only mean one thing.

"I'm dead," he muttered to himself, his voice hollow. "I couldn't keep my word."

Before his despair could settle further, the Boatman loomed closer, its faceless form an imposing silhouette against the pale sky. It extended a hand—long, dark, and featureless. Furōkawa hesitated, unsure of what it wanted from him.

"What choice do I have?" he muttered bitterly, his shoulders sagging. Reluctantly, he reached out and took the Boatman's hand. Its touch was cold, almost mechanical, as it pulled him gently onto a small wooden boat that had appeared at the riverbank.

Without a word, the Boatman began to row, the oars cutting smoothly through the calm green liquid. The silence was deafening. Furōkawa sat stiffly, his gaze darting between the Boatman and the endless stretch of river ahead.

"Where are you taking me?" he finally asked, his voice cautious but firm. The Boatman offered no response, its blank face turned forward as it continued to row.

Furōkawa's frustration grew. "I deserve an answer," he said, though his tone was more resigned than angry. "If this is the end, I'd at least like to know where I'm going."

Still, the Boatman remained silent, its rhythmic rowing unbroken. Furōkawa slumped slightly, exhaling heavily. "Fine. Ignore me. It's not like I can stop you anyway."

The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft sound of the green liquid lapping against the boat. Then, without warning, the Boatman's voice emerged, deep and resonant, an ancient tongue echoing across the river. Though the words were foreign and incomprehensible, Furōkawa understood them perfectly.

"You are not dead," the Boatman said, its monotone voice carrying a weight of inevitability. "But you stand on the cusp of passing. If you continue down this river, your soul will reach the other side, and your life in the real world will end."

Furōkawa's eyes widened slightly. "Not dead?" he repeated, gripping the edge of the boat. "Then why am I here? Why are you taking me?"

The Boatman's faceless head turned slightly toward him. "It is my purpose. To guide you when you are on the edge of life and death. Should I complete this journey, your existence will extinguish, and I will cease to be."

The revelation sent a chill down Furōkawa's spine. "You'll cease to exist?" he asked, the frustration in his voice fading into something closer to pity. "You'll just… disappear?"

The Boatman nodded, its rowing unbroken. "This is my design."

Furōkawa's grip on the edge of the boat tightened, his mind racing. He had made it this far—fought this hard. To give in now, to let himself drift quietly into the void, was unthinkable. "No," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the quiet. "I won't let that happen. I don't care what it takes—I'm not giving up."

The Boatman paused briefly, the oars resting against the surface of the river. "There is a way to return," it said, its monotone voice unchanged. "Expand this domain into the real world. Anchor your existence there."

Furōkawa frowned, leaning forward. "Expand my domain? How? I don't even know how I got here."

"To expand the domain now is futile," the Boatman continued. "Without a way to return, you will still perish. The connection between here and the living world must be forged anew."

Furōkawa's eyes narrowed as he thought back to his battle with Eir. Her first resurrection had been accompanied by the abrupt opening of her domain—Sanctuary of the Eternal Bloom. It had been her key to bridging the gap between life and death.

"That's it," he whispered, his thoughts falling into place. "Her domain opened when she revived. The crest…"

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, calm and ethereal. "You understand it now, Furōkawa."

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Eir?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"You can return," she said, her voice carrying the same serene tone she had used in their final moments. "But know this: when you use my Crest of Resurrection, you will never again be able to save yourself from death. This is your only chance."

The words settled heavily in his chest, but there was no hesitation in his response.

Furōkawa's grip on the edge of the boat tightened, his resolve solidifying. He knew what he had to do. The fear of failure and the weight of his promise to Emilia burned within him, fanning the flames of his determination.

"I don't care," he said aloud, his voice cutting through the stillness of the green river. "If this is my only chance, I'll take it. I can't afford to lose now."

The Boatman resumed rowing, the rhythmic splashes of the oars the only sound for a moment. Then, its low, monotone voice spoke again, tinged with the faintest hint of curiosity. "You are resolute. Few could make such a choice."

Furōkawa closed his eyes, focusing on the faint hum of cursed energy within him, the connection to the Crest of Resurrection embedded in his earring. He could feel it, faint but undeniable, waiting to be activated. "This isn't about me," he murmured. "It's about the people who are counting on me to come back."

Suddenly, Eir's voice spoke again, a final echo of guidance. "Remember, Furōkawa, the Crest is a one-way bridge. This will only bring you back one time. Fight with everything you have left."

Furōkawa opened his eyes, the glow of the green river intensifying around him as he reached for the energy of the Crest. The mark burned against his skin, and a surge of cursed energy flooded through him. It was raw and searing, yet invigorating, filling every corner of his being.

With a burst of will, Furōkawa activated the Crest of Resurrection. The world around him began to tremble, the river rippling violently as the connection between the domain and reality reestablished itself. The Boatman paused, its faceless head tilting slightly as if in acknowledgment.

"Your path is chosen," it said simply, its voice resonating with finality. Then, as the light around Furōkawa grew blinding, the Boatman faded into the mist, its silhouette disappearing from view.

Furōkawa's eyes snapped open, the sharp pain in his gut pulling him back to the harsh reality of the battlefield. He gasped for air, his body trembling as he pushed himself up from the cracked earth. Blood still trickled from the wound Excalibur had left, but his strength returned rapidly, the Crest of Resurrection mending his broken form.

Standing a few feet away, Sigrun watched him with an expression of cold disappointment. Excalibur rested casually on her shoulder, its golden glow dimming slightly as her gaze bore into him.

"You disappointed me, Furōkawa," she said, her tone sharp but calm. "To falter in the heat of battle is unworthy of a warrior."

Furōkawa clenched his fists, steadying himself as he forced himself to stand upright. "I'm not done yet," he said, his voice rough but filled with determination.

Without wasting a moment, Furōkawa clasped his hands together in the Harmony Buddhist Mudra, the gesture firm and resolute. His cursed energy surged to life, spilling out of him in waves as he channeled his will into a single declaration.

Sigrun's golden eyes widened slightly, a flicker of excitement breaking through her stern expression. She lowered Excalibur from her shoulder, gripping it tightly in preparation. "Incredible," she said, a smile curling her lips.

Furōkawa took a deep breath, the words falling from his lips like a decree.

"Domain Expansion: River of Styx."

The battlefield shifted immediately, reality bending and warping as Furōkawa's domain took shape. The green river from his innate domain surged outward, consuming the cracked earth and golden light, creating a hauntingly serene landscape. The river stretched endlessly into the horizon, the grey pale sky above casting an eerie glow over the the corrosive waters. It stretched endlessly between the field of wilted flowers and dying valleys.

Sigrun stood on one side of the river inside the domain, her golden armor shimmering faintly as the new terrain enveloped her. She turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable, but her grip on Excalibur tightened.

The air between them grew heavy, the tension palpable as their energies clashed once more. Furōkawa readied himself, his stance firm, his eyes locked on the Valkyrie Queen.