Chapter Text
The sandstorm this time was fiercer than ever before. The car body shook violently under the onslaught of the wind, and Itadori Yuuji had to curl up and protect his head.
When the ringing in his ears finally stopped, Itadori was certain that the sandstorm had ended. He coughed and spat out the sand from his mouth as he crawled out of the car window and pulled down his mask.
All around him was still an endless sea of yellow sand. He sighed, unsure whether to be grateful that no enemies were in sight or to lament the loneliness of being all by himself.
He circled the car and was relieved to find that his desert off-roader, being relatively tall, hadn't been buried in the sand. This car had been with him for many years and was one of his favorite vehicles. Its massive wheels allowed him to traverse the desert with ease. It was a gift from a southern tribe many years ago, and it had roamed with him to many places. Now, it was modified to resemble a porcupine, with wooden spikes on the front bumper and a cart full of spikes attached to the rear.
Yuuji followed the chains tied to the car and found a corner of the anchor. He unlocked the rear compartment and dug out a shovel to remove the sand covering the anchor. This anchor was his essential tool for survival, keeping him and his car from being blown away during sandstorms.
The sun beat down on him as he worked tirelessly. His short pink hair was pressed under his large, transparent dust goggles, and fine sand trickled into his right eye from the inside, mixing with sweat and causing him to blink in pain.
Unable to resist, he loosened his mask. His lips were chapped from the dry air and dehydration, and he struggled to resist the urge to lick them. Despite having two bags of water stored in his fishing vest, he needed to ration them.
After successfully retrieving the anchor, Yuuji didn't stop. He quickly set up a sunshade on the roof of the car, made from truck tarps. Although it emitted an industrial plastic smell that felt like it would shorten his life by ten years, it was better than being roasted under the sun.
With everything set up, the pink-haired man lay on the roof of the car and took off his black boots, placing them beside him. These boots were looted from the warehouse of a biker gang leader who had attacked him. They were a bit large, so he had to stuff an extra pair of socks in them, but they were better than his previous pair, which reeked and had lost their soles.
Yuuji opened a half-eaten can of meat paste, scooped out the remaining contents with the lid, and finally let out a satisfied sigh.
In these quiet moments of small happiness, memories of the pre-apocalyptic days would surface in his mind. Back then, the air wasn't as polluted, and the sun warmed his face. He would pester his father for ice cream from the fridge, and his father would lift him, a little child, into the air.
With his eyes closed, Yuuji recalled the pale blue sky, the scent of cherry blossoms, and the affectionate words of his parents.
"Yuuji, Yuuji, you must—"
Another small figure appeared, with blood-red eyes coldly gazing down at him.
Yuuji frowned and opened his eyes, cutting off the memory.
He had wandered the desert for too long, without a goal or an endpoint, almost forgetting the reason for his journey.
Silently, he finished tidying up and drove towards an unknown destination.
"Help me."
Not long after setting off, he saw a woman's figure in the distance.
Her hands were tied behind her back to a stake, and her white dress clung tightly to her shapely figure, outlining her curves.
Yuuji's hands remained steady on the steering wheel, and he even sped up, clearly uninterested. The woman, seeing that he wasn't going to help, began to cry, seemingly resigned to her unfortunate fate.
This trick was all too familiar.
Prisoners in the desert often used such clumsy traps to ambush and rob their rescuers.
However, Yuuji emotionlessly turned the car around. There was something different about this woman.
He lay prone on the car roof and observed her through binoculars.
Sure enough, shortly after he left, a massive truck appeared near the woman.
Several burly men got out and spoke to the woman, who then untied herself and walked onto the truck surrounded by the men.
The truck was about ten meters long. Based on experience, it was a transport truck, but it was hard to tell what it was carrying. It had signs of being attacked, but none in critical areas. Some of the men were bandaged but not severely injured.
The group was clearly well-trained, with men built like bears and wearing golden headbands.
Once the woman boarded, the truck started moving away.
Yuuji quickly jumped back into his car through the window. He wasn't in a hurry to catch up, as their numbers were too many for a frontal assault. He didn't mind taking more time to track them.
He pulled out an old map from the glove compartment. Seeing the truck about to disappear, he steered with one hand, bit off the cap of a marker with his teeth, and recorded the route on the map using a compass.
At times like this, his long-lonely heart would leap with excitement. Stepping on the gas, he could almost hear the shouts of "White Tiger." The driver’s seat felt like it belonged to a young, energetic boy, without the scar that made him face reality, but the moment of setting off cruelly dragged him back to the present.
Night fell.
On the second night.
The truck door opened, and several men moved some items out, seemingly preparing to rest.
This gave Yuuji a chance to rest as well. He looked at the crisscrossing lines on the map, confirming that this strange convoy had no destination, or the leader was an idiot.
Their route was erratic, almost as if they had no compass. Yet, strangely, they always avoided other dangerous bases or tribal camps.
The familiar woman emerged from the truck, now wrapped in a blanket. She sat on a makeshift chair and started talking to a man with a red headscarf.
Compared to the woman, the red-headscarf man was like a small mountain. The leather water bag in his hand looked small and cute. After the woman said something, he laughed disdainfully, took a swig from the bag, and whispered to the muscular man standing behind him.
That was probably the leader.
Yuuji lay on his stomach, emotionless, watching the conspicuous truck from a distance. His eyes gradually closed, and the cold, emotionless red eyes appeared in his mind again.
Yuuji stared unblinkingly at the moving people, his feet hooked onto the side of the truck, breathing slowly. When the guard turned a corner, he quickly raised his dagger and slit his throat, covering the man's mouth to prevent any noise. Once the man stopped struggling, Yuuji gently laid him down.
He repeated this process with the remaining men outside. Now, the ones inside were his main concern.
He stealthily climbed onto the roof, opened the skylight, and saw a man dozing by the lamp. He quietly jumped into the compartment and dealt with him the same way. The other compartments' occupants met the same fate.
Finally, he reached the last door and slowly opened it. As expected, several women looked at him in terror. Yuuji parted his lips to speak but suddenly felt a chill behind him. Instinctively, he rolled to the side. The next second, a black shadow slammed into the ground with a thud.
For a moment, the sounds of heavy impact and women's screams mingled.
"Heh," the red-headscarf man emerged from the shadows by the door, his large frame moving silently.
He walked slowly towards the giant axe embedded in the ground and, with a grunt, pulled it out. "You're quite skilled. Almost fooled me too. But this is where it ends."
Yuuji noticed the blood on the axe and felt a delayed searing pain in his shoulder. He couldn't afford to be distracted, keeping a close eye on the man's movements.
He charged at the man, who swung the axe nonchalantly. Yuuji dodged and quickly pulled a bow and arrow from his back, shooting at the man.
The arrow struck, and the red-headscarf man roared in anger, "You're dead, kid!"
"I'm just returning the favor," Yuuji replied coldly, watching the man go berserk and slash wildly. As he dodged, he shot more arrows at the man's feet.
"Damn it, do you know who you've messed with?" The man knelt in pain, his tone growing more frenzied. "Master Sukuna! No! Noah won't let you off!"
Yuuji couldn't describe his reaction to hearing that name again after so many years. The long-suppressed emotions collided, but outwardly, he remained as calm as ever.
He squatted in front of the man, the terrified women cowering in the corner behind him, the light avoiding his face. He pulled down his mask, his amber eyes showing determination.
"Is that so? Then I look forward to it," he said, unsure if his voice trembled, his palms sweaty.
The red-headscarf man was incredulous, "You, you are—"
Amid the women's screams, the last thing the man saw was the masked man raising his arm, the bow in his hand swinging towards him.