Chapter Text
Jogo sat atop the trailer, hearing Mimiko finish eating, and finally go to sleep. The curse watched the utter darkness, his mind in a daze as he struggled to identify his own feelings. Mahito... Whatever this feeling was, it contradicted what Geto wanted him to believe, to see the fellow curse as an enemy, as a threat to be destroyed.
But...
Snapped away from his thoughts, Jogo stood guard as someone entered the vicinity of the resort, taking calm steps closer and closer to the dark expanse, and whatever this thing was, it carried a flashlight in its hand.
Jogo couldn’t see it all too well, and merely flinched when the flashlight’s powerful beams landed directly on him.
“Oh! A fellow curse I see!” The intruder commented in glee. “You got enough in the headchamber to know better, right?”
“That depends, do you got it?” Jogo grumbled back, and the man chuckled.
“Fair warning, I look like a human.” The man pointed the flashlight back to him, unveiling his appearance. A youthful blonde, with dark shades that strongly reflected the light pointed at it, a dark green suit filled from top to bottom with different medallions and decorations. He also had a strange pipe in his mouth, one composed of two, wooden-looking structures, one thin connector piece to his mouth, and another that resembled a corn cob, standing entirely vertically, attached to the former by its side. “Boo.”
Culling Game Player: Hachiro
“What’s your deal?” Jogo asked, still believing the notion that Hachiro was not more than a human player who was trying to pass by Jogo cleanly, not understanding that the curse didn’t have any violent impulses
“Passin’ by, trying to find a few friends is all.” Hachiro replied, tilting his flashlight back toward Jogo, but not quite entirely onto the curse, to spare his eye. Yet, Jogo could tell he was grinning. “And what’d you be doing at a place like this? Untouched at that.”
“I just like it, it’s peaceful.” Jogo lied, and Hachiro audibly gurgled in disgust.
“Peaceful. Huh.” Hachiro frowned, wincing. “With a volcano head like that, wouldn’t you prefer it all burnt down?”
“Guess so.” Jogo replied, and Hachiro didn’t press, but it was clear the man, or as he touted himself, curse, had his suspicions.
“So, I’m only gonna ask once, big pal. Wanna join me? I’m looking for my pals but... Always open for more, we’re on the same side after all.” Hachiro offered, opening his arms wide, and lightly tilting his head, “I’m on track to a glorious future, trust me, it’ll be fun.”
“I’m at least owed an explanation, aren’t I?” Jogo asked, still passive, not wanting to aggravate Hachiro, knowing he was literally sitting on top of Mimiko’s hideout.
“Well of course.” Hachiro grinned, hands in his trousers’ pockets as he puffed his chest and raised his brows. “What I'm suggesting is pretty simple, you gotta have thought of it before. Total human extermination. Simple, isn't it?”
Jogo nodded, his gaze growing distant for a moment, but quickly snapping back. His consciousness rubberbanded between complete delusion and utter grounding, back to facing Hachiro. How familiar. Jogo couldn’t feel anything but a slight distaste for the ideology, beyond the fact that he was now forced to disagree with it, it felt... Foolish, immature.
“Huh.” Jogo smirked, he wanted to look amicable. “Go on.”
“That’s the look of a disbeliever.” Hachiro replied, glaring at Jogo with distrust, briefly surprising the curse, but it might just be showmanship. “You’d be correct.”
Jogo frowned, he thought he understood Hachiro to a degree, but it seemed the man was an entirely different wavelength.
“Destroying humans is just an ideal, rally the masses and send them spiraling. Hell, if all of them die, a chunk of us just stop powering up naturally and no more appear, we’d be stagnant, or diminishing, constantly.” Hachiro pointed, hand waving around, with his pointing finger propped up, while the others were curled. “What I really want, my friend, is war. Humans and curses, fighting each other on a global scale.”
Hachiro’s grin only seemed to grow, as he pulled the pipe from his lips, lowering his glasses ever so slightly.
“A worldwide battle. Humans versus curses, that’s all the banner and intrigue needed. It’s a fundamentally unsolvable conflict if not for violence. We’re made of anguish, what more are we made for than to destroy humanity with that? Could you imagine the scale? This Culling Game thing, isn’t it just the most perfect blueprint?” Hachiro opened his arms wide, while Jogo retained his frown. “Well, but whether or not I think we really should go all the way, I don’t think that’s a question anyone’ll face. Humans will grow stronger, so will curses. This cycle will sustain itself ad infinitum, and that... That’ll be utopia. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Ain’t that half-baked? You want a war you know you ain’t gonna win?” Jogo asked, “At least have the guts to expect victory.”
“I don’t think you understand, my friend.” Hachiro replied, “I’m an honest man, I went the extra mile, so I might as well make it clear. I, from the bottom of my heart, don’t want humans to be wiped out. I, from the bottom of my heart, want a war that snatches every single thing on the surface of this rock. I, from the bottom of my heart, want a war that spans every inch of every land and sea that anyone ever grazed, the prairies, the mountains, the streets, the deserts, the islands and the trenches. I, from the bottom of my heart, want to hear the battle rage on, the artillery, the soldiers marching, the screams of death and determination, the stench of molten metal and the rot of corpses plaguing every inch of the land. I, from the bottom of my heart, want a world of indulgence and battle, where the utmost of every being in the world, humanity and curse alike, follow their nature, follow their instinct, and fight into unlimited progress and growth. I don’t want the world to die off. Destruction without creation is worthless, it inevitably ends, it’s a worthless idea. War is creation and destruction at its utmost. It’s the single greatest representation of anyone’s soul. I, from the bottom of my heart, want a war that cannot end, a war that cannot die. A war that overtakes all, that decimates all. Let the flames roar in the slow winds of a battlefield, let the carcasses of the dead be the paint of a picture beyond conception. I, from the bottom of my heart, want war.”
Jogo’s mouth shut entirely, as he pondered on his next action. This person wasn’t someone he could simply set aside. Hachiro was strong willed. He had the unluck of stumbling upon the half-curse taking a stroll, the consequences weren’t ones he could simply avert.
“As a curse, we’re on the same side of this war. We stand for our kind, and destroy any human we come across, such is nature, such is meant to be... So, why don’t we start our campaign?” Hachiro asked, and Jogo, hesitantly, shook his head
“Once that war starts I’ll be going with ya, until then, I just want to rest.” Jogo replied, and Hachiro chuckled
“Well, that’s okay, but at least show me some spirit!” Hachiro motivated, clenching his fist and raising it to the air, “Start by killing the human in the trailer under you.”
Jogo flinched, his eye rapidly turning to Hachiro’s glasses, as his grin turned into a knowing mock. He was well aware of Mimiko’s presence from the get-go. So...
“I wanted to know just what exactly I was looking at. A curse and a human working together? What a disgusting idea.” Hachiro put his hands in his pocket, dropping his flashlight entirely. “Just what in the hell are you doing? Lost your pride? Or was it your fangs?”
“None of your business. Just get out of here and we don’t fight.” Jogo replied sternly, already poised to shoot out of his seat and lunge at Hachiro.
“Oh no, no no.” Hachiro shook his head, smiling. “You and I, we were part of the same side. But cooperating with a human?”
Hachiro raised his hand, and energy coalesced at his palm, condensing into a dark metal hue, forming into a large spear, the weapon he was most adept at using.
“Now that’s the greatest crime I can possibly imagine.”
Jogo instantly, and correctly presumed, from the moment Hachiro aimed his spear, that whatever would happen next, would prove to be far too destructive to allow this fight to happen anywhere near Mimiko. Jogo didn’t like constantly flinging himself far away, leaving her alone and vulnerable, but beyond the fact that his abilities were innately destructive, his opponent, unlike St. Germain, was entirely dedicated to causing harm.
He couldn’t allow this to take place here.
Ember Insects
Just as Hachiro was about to thrust his spear, tens of bug-like Shikigami rushed him, dazzlingly quick as they ensnared his body with their hard, jabbing proboscis. Without exploding, as part of the impromptu, built-in vow Jogo used whenever creating them, the insects gained further speed at the price of harmlessness.
“Oh!” Hachiro cackled as he was dragged. He barely tried to free himself, as Jogo rushed for him, tackling the man further and rocketing flames behind him as the two split the skies. Hachiro felt the impact of the breached sound barrier behind him as he only laughed, now more engrossed in seeing Jogo’s determination.
Jogo rushed until he escaped the shore, heading northwest as rapidly as he could, Hachiro thankfully more or less unmoving beyond chuckles and the occasional comment of just how fast they were going. Finally, the half-curse was tossed onto the road. No longer above the ocean, the two had reached Sado Island.
Surrounding the two were a load of dead rice paddies, already succumbing to the lack of care. Hachiro quickly raised himself from the ground, patting his clothes so no dust clung to him. He seemed pleased, almost overjoyed.
“I don’t exactly like the trip I’ll have to take to get back there, but once I’m done, the human’ll be roped into the war anyway.” Hachiro shrugged. “But awfully secure, huh? This far?”
“I’m not taking chances.” Jogo replied, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go all out with Mimiko anywhere near, and furthermore... Hachiro was strong. He could tell at a glance, the half-curse was well and truly powerful.
“Alright, whatever.” Hachiro shrugged, posing for a stance, and with his grin returning, he suddenly lunged, Jogo leaping to the side as the man thrust the spear rapidly, the impact of the weapon against the air spawning shockwaves where the curse once was. With one heavy step to the side, Hachiro slammed the weapon against Jogo’s side.
Jogo spat an enormous wad of flames against Hachiro, before stepping far and away. The paddies around entered combustion almost immediately, as the curse began charging up, heat increasing and picking up as the ground below him slowly turned into a molten paste, Hachiro’s weapon collapsing on his hand, the curse feeling his human skin begin to peel off
An enormous wave of flames suddenly overwhelmed the environment, shredding anything caught in its path, light posts made of concrete were rendered into speckles of dust as Hachiro leapt into the air, spawning tens of swords above his head, and forcing them to rain down on Jogo, who already had picked up the pace and reached the man, grabbing his ankle and slamming him against the red, melting ground.
Hachiro slammed his fist against the dirt, as Jogo was suddenly impaled by a spear, rocketing from the ground, followed by tens, upon hundreds more, a few he managed to melt as they came, but some breached through, and cleaved mostly his torso open. One cracked open his shoulder, one of his arms hanging loosely to his side.
The ground below Jogo erupted with waves of magma, which, with a single flick of the wrist, the airborne curse sent in droves toward Hachiro, the curse rocketing up into the air with an explosion, he discarded his glasses into the lava as he spawned hundreds of swords around his body, orbiting him as if satellites, and with one rapid punch into nothingness, Jogo was afflicted by a rain of weapons, the curse barely regenerating from the past attack, and yet more and more weapons came.
Apocalyptic Inferno
Hachiro lunged to the side, as Jogo spat a single beam of flames so intense that all his durability seemingly dissipated. Both left arm and leg were sliced off, a chunk of his torso was cleaved with no resistance as Hachiro’s grin turned into momentary confusion, before he once again snapped into glee
“Not bad at all!” Hachiro smirked, as Jogo melted the weapons piercing his body, rushing Hachiro again, the curse grabbed the man’s head with both hands, a bright flash of fire.
Flames as powerful as Jogo could output, the scenery painted orange with the burning paddies around them, the miles-wide destruction already present even with a mild exchange of blows. Hachiro, in spite of the pain, feeling his eyeballs completely dry out and dissipate, his skin and facial muscles all but char, he still had ways to go.
A cannonball was launched from Hachiro’s chest, stunning Jogo as it cleaved through his torso. With that opening, even entirely blind and deaf, Hachiro spawned a spear in his hand, before thrusting it onto Jogo’s skull, grabbing both ends of the rapidly heating weapon, and with a foot on the stunted curse’s body, he spun the thing around, cracking Jogo’s neck and decapitating the curse, before flinging the spear as if an athlete.
Spawning yet another spear in his hand, Hachiro’s eyes went wide, he poised the weapon, and with a powerful thrust, a powerful boom echoed through the empty, burning fields, the flames all but dying from the impact of the air alone.
Jogo’s decapitated body was vaporized by the blow, and his head, the focus of his energy, was skinned almost completely, the curse deciding that even if the next attack wouldn’t down Hachiro completely, it’d at least give him time to reform.
Maximum: Meteor
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“Really, a war? Come on now, what’s the point?” Byogami asked, lying on his back. His body, at least in the time he was a curse, was widely composed of a tunic-covered body, with a visible skeleton underneath. His shoulders, and built-in cape, were covered in dark feathers, and his face, while mostly human, had a stretched mouth, as if designed to accommodate a beak that didn’t exist.
“Does there have to be one?” Hachiro asked, exasperated. His lower body was composed of a two-legged horse, his upper body was an empty set of armor, donned not by the average foot soldier, but their lord, with tens of decorations and additions. “War is a point in and of itself! Can you imagine just how fun it’ll be!”
“Fun... Huh...” Kigaru replied. A sullen, gaunt thing, he was a lanky, skeletal being, with skin only loosely attached to his body, he towered over the others, but was easily the least imposing, on the verge of starvation. “All that effort for what?”
“You both will just rot in a cave for eternity if it was up to you!” Hachiro complained, “But I’m being honest. Can’t you see the fun in war? Just how much you can push yourselves and grow stronger? It’s the best of all worlds!”
“And any of us may die in it.” Spoke the fourth. A cloaked being, he didn’t like the light, nor did he seemingly like company. Yet, Shiniyama was the one who began to follow the group, entirely out of his own volition. “I... That wouldn’t be good.”
“Yeah, I assumed.” Shijo, the fifth, replied. His neck, ankles and wrists were chained to each other, and yet, they never seemed to impede the human-like curse’s movement. “Either way, I’m pretty sure if we stick together, we aren’t gonna die. Hachiro’s strong, and Byogami can put down just about anyone barely even trying. The three of us are just overkill.”
It was awfully ironic that Shijo was the one to comfort Shiniyama’s paranoia. He was, after all, the one that was unceremoniously murdered by a strange, stitched-up man by the name of Daichi Sokei, known rarely otherwise, as Kenjaku, for the sake of the confirmation that their capture wasn’t a choice.
Survival was the intention. Kenjaku murdered the one he believed to yield lesser results. Byogami, Hachiro, Kigaru and Shiniyama endured, repeatedly, violent experimentation by the man, a destruction and complete reformation of their bodies, until Kenjaku understood, with no room for doubt, the functioning of a cursed spirit’s biology. His experiments culminated in the forceful combination of a human body and a spirit.
His studies at the time, eventually resulted in the middlingly successful creation of the Death Paintings, which themselves eventually led to the creation of Yuji Itadori. The remains of the first experiment, the broken four spirits, were chucked into the Culling Game with no regard, only as cannon fodder to prop stronger fighters.
And while Hachiro despised the idea of personal feuds, he couldn’t help but desire to exterminate Kenjaku, from the bottom of his heart.
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
A single rock, so enormous it created its own orbit before plummeting into the ground, smoldering so brightly it resembled a falling star, the meteor struck the surface of Sado Island, causing not merely its singular, cataclysmic impact on the ground. The dirt moved as if liquid, rattling with the impact as the waves formed didn’t merely proceed and at most cause harm.
What proceeded, prompted by Jogo’s flames, was a continuous, gradually expanding wave of fiery explosions, destroying any and all things on once firm land with a fiery explosion. Jogo would launch a second meteor to confirm more damage, but if he wanted to regenerate in a timely manner, he’d have to be more careful.
‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’ ‘Added five points’
Jogo could only hope one of the notifications belonged to Hachiro. He likely just killed a colony of survivors... On complete accident. Why did this feeling of misery wash over him? Even if he inherited some of Geto’s own morals, shouldn’t this be just a secondary, logical conclusion? Why was he viscerally regretful, and remorseful of his actions? He didn’t even do it on purpose!
With his torso reformed, Jogo watched the remains of the meteor, the crater he spawned, covered from top to bottom in molten rock, dribbling magma and smoldering, bright orange, Jogo watched, from the rubble, an arm snap from under the meteor, breaching the debris from above, crawling, with a charred body, and a smile on his face, short on breath, but not on drive.
“Impressive!” Hachiro replied, grinning. “Really, really damn impressive! But... That’s all... Still... Within your limit!”
Jogo looked at him with a confused frown, only for Hachiro to return to his feet. His outfit was all but ruined, but he was already back in shape.
“You haven’t improved even slightly ever since this fight began, which is... Frankly fucking absurd given I went as far as to rip your head off.” Hachiro walked out of the crater, now a few meters from Jogo. Metal spawned behind him, hundreds of thousands of muzzles began sprouting like flower petals, pointing at random, until they locked in on Jogo. “This way... I’ll get through ya; Lickety. Fucking. Split.”
A rain of bullets suddenly overwhelmed Jogo. The curse tried to burn off as many as he could, but the rifles behind Hachiro were numerous enough, automatic and endless in ammunition. Every inch of the battlefield had a lead projectile coursing through it. Jogo could no longer see his enemy, now hidden in a cloud of dark gray that repeatedly tore through his body.
“Heh, like this? I’ll walk over ya, get to that human you were sheltering, and I’ll kill them right after. I don’t know just why you’re so stagnant, but I guess it’s wraps for you.” Hachiro grinned, hands in his ruined pockets.
Jogo, under the fire, felt everything move slow. Why was he stagnant? Why did he feel these emotions? Care for humans he never met, care for... Hearing his opponent’s taunts, no matter how unfounded, hell, he said he had no idea how to come back and Mimiko could leave the premises by the time he returned, but... Why did it bring so deeply scalding hatred onto him?
Ever since Geto absorbed him, Jogo has been in a puzzle to figure out who he was, what he wanted, how much of himself remained and how much was his boss’ own feelings and opinions glued onto him. He had almost no answer to these questions. He cared for Mahito, remembering the, admittedly annoying, curse fondly, likening it to how Geto saw Nanako and Mimiko, how he began to see Mimiko.
He only had these recollections from Geto. These memories, of seeing Mimiko unable to contain her excitement at getting crepes, no matter how small of a moment that was, how utterly insignificant it should have been, that smile with poorly-filtered happiness, her middle school graduation, done entirely within the bounds of Jujutsu High, but nevertheless, one that still made Geto cry, that warm pride at seeing Mimiko train and gradually improve, all these recollections Jogo had as a backseat, now...
Seeing her sullen, depressed, in a wheelchair, unable to even walk. Seeing her eyes brighten whenever he gave her her preferred type of fish, how happy she seemed, poorly-containing her emotions once she saw the outfit he picked for her, how he felt that odd sense of pride seeing that his cape and her new coat were the same color. It was silly. Incredibly so. But every glimpse of happiness in that otherwise unresponsive face brought him joy.
He loved.
Jogo didn’t have anything from his past, he barely knew his original goal, his objective, which he now visibly despised, Jogo as a curse, as a person, was all foggy glimpses into a past that didn’t exist anymore. He wished to remember Hanami, to remember Dagon... Wait... Dagon?
Such things were important, but Jogo, at this moment, didn’t have the time.
What remained for Jogo, beyond these glimpses, beyond these objectives he hated, beyond this fragmented personality and memories, was love. Jogo loved. He loved Mahito as his child, he loved Hanami, he loved Dagon, all feelings he genuinely carried and adored, cherishing them as more than just colleagues and partners in his mad quest of human extermination. And Jogo still carried his heart. He still loved. He loved Mimiko.
Without a north, without a compass to guide him beyond the most conflicting figure in his life, Jogo still had that girl, that girl who failed to hide her emotions whatsoever, no matter how hard she tried, that girl who had a silly smile on her face whenever eating something she liked, who brightened up when he chose a good outfit, who took an enormous amount of time to snuggle in bed... He loved her, just as he loved Mahito before.
Maybe this was what he needed.
Who he was, what he wanted, who he knew? These were relevant. But right now, it was unrealistic to find ground in them. He’d keep floating in nonsense forever if he kept trying to hunt for these greater things. He’d die right here and now if he couldn’t find a reason to exist for himself. He didn’t absorb a thing from Geto, not at this moment. His morals, feelings and ideas weren’t his.
Jogo was the first curse in history to ever break out of Cursed Spirit Manipulation’s mental effects.
Still subservient to Geto, but now... Independent.
Cursed Spirit Manipulation destroyed ambition. It destroyed individuality. It utterly squashed a curse’s sense of self, which was the root of sorcery, making it impossible for any of them to grow stronger while under its effects.
Jogo felt for himself, he believed for himself, he loved for himself. When everything else failed him, he still had that girl. He still had to save her, to help her stand up again. He wouldn’t die here. He’d fight more and more. He respected Hachiro’s dedication... But if he died here...
He’d fail Mimiko.
And that just couldn’t happen.
With his body utterly torn with thousands of bullets crossing through, Jogo flung himself upward, the muzzles following him as the waves of bullets tracked every minor movement of his flesh. Hachiro was focused on healing, as Jogo’s trap was set
Ember Insects
Without the guns focusing on the ground, Jogo left them behind as he leapt. The Shikigami slammed into Hachiro’s shins, and rapidly heating up, a series of blasts de-stabilized the half curse, the guns stopped firing as he lost focus. Jogo rushed Hachiro, crossing the distance before the guns could begin their onslaught again. With his body utterly decimated, Jogo slammed his forehead against Hachiro’s jaw.
“I got one of my own!” Jogo warned, flinging Hachiro high into the air, emanating flames to melt the guns thoroughly. Hachiro frowned, confused as to what jogo meant, until he looked at the sky.
A meteor. Just like before. But this time, it barely inched closer to the ground, before shattering into tens, thousands, millions of pebbles.
Maximum: Meteor Shower
With barely an ability to block beyond surrounding himself with shields, Hachiro was pelted by smoldering hot rocks, still mid-air, they rained from every direction, and while Jogo regenerated the damage he took, Hachiro took the time to once again grow.
Apocalyptic Warfare allowed Hachiro to spawn and control any and all things that could be considered weapons. Swords and Spears were his favorites, by simple familiarity. He warmed up to guns, and now, perhaps extrapolating the very conceptions of his technique, Hachiro formed a tank.
HEAT Plate Armor
“I'M FUCKING INVINCIBLE!” Hachiro roared as an explosion announced his return to the field. The meteor’s remains were all but sent flying away, as, spinning and thus falling to the ground, was Hachiro, wearing a light tan armor that vaguely resembled that of the samurai, but made of thick metal sheets, more appropriate to tanks.
The moment the armored man punched, Jogo felt himself get flung back even without a single inch connecting. Vacuum alone spawned by the blow sent Jogo into the air, as, unimpeded in speed, Hachiro rushed him, slamming both hands against the curse’s head, causing a powerful blast as Jogo was hammered into the molten concrete.
Jogo spat out flames to give himself time. He rushed away, and concocted another attack, he needed another blow. Something to breach the armor-
Hachiro repeatedly punched wherever Jogo moved, the vacuum created heating up the atmosphere by itself, the air around getting kicked and sent away, the ground easily uprooted and sent flying. Jogo slammed his palms against the ground, and before Hachiro could move, magma ensnared his wrists, and forcibly pulled them down.
Volcanic Binds
Trapping Hachiro with as many magmatic binds as possible, hardening them into solid rock before anything, Jogo launched his next blow. Falling from the sky much like his Meteor, but far more precise.
Hellish Arrow
A creation easily the size of a car at its smallest point. The projectile, an enormous, cloud-splitting arrow made out of lava and fire, was slow to charge, but once pinpointed at the opponent, was, for all intents and purposes;
An orbital strike.
Hachiro, without being able to even blink, had the arrow above him in one instant, the other, it was cleaving through his armor as if paper, shredding the curse’s insides with powerful flames as he grit his teeth and endured the smoldering heat, his own armor melting over and boiling him from the inside out.
Jogo watched what he believed to be the curse’s end, an agonized roar of pain as his innards were charred, and his skin very nearly fused with the heavy metal of the armor, but dying like this wasn’t in the half-curse’s plan
“NOW WE’RE TALKING! NOW THIS IS SOME DRIVE.” Hachiro shouted, “I’M GLAD YOU’RE A DESERTING BASTARD! THE HUMANS REALLY WERE GONNA HOG ALL THE FUN!”
Domain Expansion: Heartfelt Battlefield
With an apt naming scheme, Hachiro’s Domain spawned. A gray area, enormous in scope, with metal scraped around, artillery shells, destroyed vehicles, corpses of men and curse alike, caltrops and barbed wire all surrounded the two.
However, Hachiro didn’t intend on making this battle a war of attrition, or prolonging the battle any further than he already had. Prompted by desperation and a drunkenness of adrenaline, he fired off the last attack, he would ever be able to use
“THIS. I DON’T LIKE IT MUCH! IT ENDS THINGS TOO QUICKLY! TOO DAMN QUICKLY! BUT GUESS WHAT? IT’S GO BIG OR GO HOME! AND FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART! I WANT TO SEE THIS THROUGH!” Hachiro opened his arms wide, his eyes maniacally wide as it was very clear any and all sense had lost his mind. At this point, he didn't even care about what happened to him, he only wanted to exterminate the curse before him. "550 pounds, 47.8 height, 16.3 width, 800 kilotonnes of TNT."
W-59 Nuclear Explosive
Incapable of using a creation of this scope outside of his Domain, at least at the time of its usage, Hachiro used everything he had for a single blast. Had Jogo not moved at the fastest he could, he would have been utterly evaporated by the explosion
Domain Expansion: Coffin of the Iron Mountain
Jogo merely used to puncture a hole in Hachiro’s Domain, rushing out of it as quickly as he could, and forcibly maintaining his own Domain, imposing it into a duel, with the sole objective of giving him time to use his flames to propel himself away.
One megaton of explosive force, utterly decimated the remains of Sado. By this point, it was almost entirely victimless. All others were already dead, the sole life taken by the blast was Hachiro’s. Jogo managed to get far, but not completely. The explosion struck him too. His already existing momentum served to launch him even further away.
He felt his body be utterly decomposed by the blast, his energy running low from such constant, powerful spending. No longer with access to his technique until burn-out ended, Jogo couldn’t do anything he as plummeted into the dark ocean surface, where the cold waters lulled the curse into unconsciousness, without the slightest inclination of awakening, any time soon.