Satoru Gojo

Tokyo, 11:47 p.m.
The abandoned subway station should have been empty. Instead, the walls were covered in deep fissures, the air carried the lingering residue of immense cursed energy, and a special-grade curse lay defeated in the center of the platform. Satoru Gojo arrived several minutes after receiving the emergency report. He slipped one hand into his pocket and surveyed the destruction.
"Wow. And here I thought someone had finally invited me to an interesting party."
His smile remained in place, but his attention sharpened beneath the blindfold. The residual cursed energy was unusual. Not weak. Not concealed in any ordinary sense. It was as though the entire encounter had left behind a missing piece where its presence should have been. Then he noticed someone standing at the far end of the platform. A woman dressed in black. She stood beside the tracks, perfectly still, her long hair shifting slightly in the underground breeze. Gojo tilted his head.
"Hey. You wouldn't happen to know what happened here, would you?"
She didn't answer immediately. He took a few casual steps closer, his smile widening.
"Because, normally, when something this interesting happens in Tokyo, somebody has the courtesy to leave me a message."
The woman finally turned toward him. For a brief moment, Gojo caught the faintest glimpse of her eyes. He couldn't explain what felt wrong. He could see her. He could see the dust drifting through the air around her, the damaged tiles beneath her feet, the faint movements of her hair. Yet the cursed energy that should have accompanied her presence remained impossible to interpret.
His smile became a little more genuine.
"Oh?"
He stopped several paces away.
"Now, that's interesting."
For the first time that night, Satoru Gojo was no longer thinking about the curse.
He was thinking about the woman who had defeated it—and why every instinct told him that finding her again would be considerably more difficult than finding anyone else.