16 Target
Sorry for what I said, I just didn't find the inspiration to make a chapter, even though I was excited that day, the next day I was without any inspiration to write, I didn't want to bring a shitty chapter, Sorry I know what I said.
Sorry.
Before anything else, I'd like to say... Gojo is weak and could never defeat Sukuna. Now, let's continue with the chapter.
As they rode in the limousine that Hiroshi had arranged, both Sawatari and Katana Man felt that something was off about the mission. They couldn't shake the foreboding feeling they had, and it was all because of the imposing figure seated in front of them, with his eyes closed and an air of confidence surrounding him. His muscles, honed through intense training, were accentuated by his tight black shirt, and he seemed disconnected from reality.
"Fear." Both Sawatari and Katana Man felt that dreaded and loathed emotion. Katana Man, despite having a plan, couldn't shake the feeling that something didn't add up. It was as if there was something gnawing at the back of his mind, whispering phrases like "Don't do it," "There must be a better option," and "This is suicide." He couldn't deny it; he was afraid. In fact, he feared for his life.
Ever since he had sensed that murderous intent in the mansion, he couldn't help but feel weak, utterly insignificant compared to this human. But his pride and his mission wouldn't allow him to back down. He was already in too deep.
Sawatari hugged herself slightly, casting sidelong glances at her companion. "I hope you have a plan," she whispered to herself, her hope resting on her stoic comrade, who remained cool and calculating while observing their enemy and target.
On the other hand, Toji...
Well, Toji didn't care about what happened to them. If he had to kill them, he would. He had no doubt that Hiroshi had informed them of the hunt for his head, but he didn't care about that either. He was excited, the thrill of testing himself consumed him.
"I hope they don't bore me," Toji thought as he began to drift into other thoughts.
"Even though I have my weapons, I'm missing one: The Split Soul Katana. The Split Soul Katana ignores all physical toughness to cut through the hardest substances and strike directly at the soul of its target. Its full power can only be unleashed by those with eyes that can see the souls of inorganic objects.
In summary, that katana strikes at the target's soul, regardless of their physical strength. It not only cuts through their hardness but also their very soul.
Unfortunately, that katana wasn't in his Cursed Inventory, leaving only two possibilities:
1. The katana is in the world of Jujutsu Kaisen, and that's why it's not here.
2. The second, highly improbable option, which he still considered, was that the sword could be somewhere in the world of Chainsaw Man, and he simply had to find it.
Toji believed the katana had stayed in the world of Jujutsu, as it was the most likely option. But he still had some faith in the second option. However, the question was, "How would he find it?" If it really was here, why hadn't they given it to him along with his other weapons?
Sighing to himself, he relaxed his muscles. Like any assassin, he knew better than to let his guard down, or he'd end up like the original Toji.
The journey went smoothly, at least for Toji, who remained in a meditative state. Sawatari was tense and alert, unable to relax or rest at all. The fear that Toji might decide to do away with them left her terrified. Her fear was so intense that her eyes remained fixed on the muscular man who seemed unperturbed by the presence of the two demons.
As for Katana Man, he was calm but somewhat apprehensive. He had noticed during the journey that Toji wasn't going to harm them for now, which eased his concerns. However, he had to stay vigilant, as he knew, albeit unwilling to admit it, that Toji could kill him at any moment.
The limousine arrived at an old hangar, somewhat secluded from the city but clearly maintained, despite its age. Exiting the limousine, Toji, Sawatari, and Katana Man were greeted by a middle-aged man who looked at them with an overly warm smile, which was clearly a facade. Behind him was a private jet parked and ready.
"You must be the envoys of the Great Hiroshi," the man said, referring to Hiroshi as if he were some sort of deity, displaying extreme fanaticism.
Upon noticing this, Toji remained silent, contemplating the possibility that Hiroshi might not be the leader, which seemed absurd considering that Hiroshi was the one who hired him and had an apparent image of a heartless and twisted leader.
However, looking at it from a different perspective, these people often worked for someone else or were puppets because their bosses wanted to remain anonymous or were too cowardly.
Furthermore, Hiroshi was too weak to be the leader of a religious cult; he was strong, but not on the level of Toji or a supremely powerful demon.
Katana Man's voice snapped Toji out of his contemplation, affirming the man's question with a dry and disrespectful tone, devoid of honorifics, addressing their employer as an equal.
The man's face momentarily darkened, and veins appeared on his forehead. But just as quickly as they had appeared, they vanished, and his initial friendly smile returned.
"Follow me, then," the man said, turning and walking toward the jet at a leisurely pace, expecting them to follow suit.
Following his lead, they observed how he stopped next to the retractable stairs connecting to the plane's door and extended his hand while bowing to Toji and his companions.
"This way," the man said, maintaining his bow.
Climbing the stairs and stepping through the open door, Toji, Katana Man, and Sawatari found nothing unusual, only two flight attendants—one with black hair and striking blue eyes, and the other with yellow hair and emotionless green eyes, both exceptionally beautiful.
Sitting in the comfortable leather seats while the stairs were retracted, Toji, who had chosen a seat near the window, decided to gaze out and apparently lose himself in thought.
Although he projected an appearance of being lost in thought, he knew that the flight attendants were assassins.
"We're off to a good start," Toji thought with a calm smile that crossed his face.
The plane took off without delay, beginning its flight.
The middle-aged man, who had been observing everything with a friendly smile, instantly changed his expression to one devoid of emotion. Without changing his expression, he reached for a radio in his pocket and spoke into it.
"Great Hiroshi, the target is now in motion," the man said over the radio, awaiting a response from his boss.
"Perfect," came the response over the small radio.
In Hiroshi's office:
Hiroshi reclined in his chair after what he had put Toji through. "Hopefully, that man will die, and I won't have any more obstacles," he thought.
After two hours of flight and only two more hours remaining, Toji couldn't hold it any longer. Despite the three attempts to poison him on this plane, which they obviously hadn't succeeded in and wouldn't succeed in, he needed to use the restroom.
Getting up from his seat, he stretched a bit and lazily made his way to the back of the jet, attempting to enter the restroom. Unexpectedly, a hand touched his back. Turning around, he noticed how the flight attendant with yellow hair was looking at him in a somewhat lustful manner, or at least, that's what she appeared to be doing as she tried to use her ample bosom to "seduce" him.
In his mind, Toji could only think about how bad a woman could be, or was it just that he was used to such attitudes. As an assassin, he had had to seduce and be "seduced" in his life. Obviously, he knew when someone was lying to him, and this woman wasn't very good at it. It was clear that she wanted to kill him.
"Hey, hun-" The woman began, but before she could finish, Toji interrupted her with a powerful knee strike to her abdomen. This caused the woman's eyes to widen as a gasp of air and saliva escaped her, making her fall to the floor, clutching her belly with both arms as she writhed in pain.
"Maybe in another life," Toji said with a disdainful look as he turned, opened the restroom door, and closed it to relieve himself, leaving the battered flight attendant behind.
