What Soundtrack Tracks Score The Shibuya Incident Battle?

There are a few deaths in the 'Shibuya Incident' that still make my chest tighten when I think about them. Reading through that stretch of 'Jujutsu Kaisen' on a rainy weekend, I kept having to put the book down and stare out the window—it felt like the series shifted gears and refused to look back. The two biggest, emotionally and narratively, are Kento Nanami and Nobara Kugisaki. Nanami’s death landed like a gut-punch because he’d been such a steady, grounded presence—his last scenes underline how weary but principled he was, and losing him felt like losing a moral compass for the younger sorcerers. Nobara’s loss hit differently: it’s about potential and voice. She was loud, fierce, and unapologetically herself, and watching what happens to her is one of those moments that changes the tone of the whole story. Beyond those two, the arc piles up so many smaller, yet devastating, losses—civilians trapped in the chaos, police caught in crossfire, and a handful of supporting sorcerers whose fates are either confirmed off-panel or left ambiguous. The scale matters: part of why Shibuya stings is not just who dies, but how many ordinary lives the battle swallows. Also worth noting is how the arc treats Satoru Gojo—not a death, but his sealing feels like an emotional death for the world of the series. It creates the same sort of dread and emptiness that a physical death would, and that’s why people often bundle it with the big tragic moments from Shibuya. Even now, when I reread those chapters, the mixture of grief and lingering questions keeps pulling me back.

There’s a massive chunk of the manga that’s commonly called the 'Shibuya Incident' arc — it runs from chapter 79 through chapter 136 (inclusive). I got sucked into this stretch like a late-night binge; it’s basically the most consequential sequence so far in 'Jujutsu Kaisen', with the citywide setup, huge reveals, and a lot of characters getting thrown into chaos at once. If you’re skimming, know that this arc contains the sealing of a major figure, terrifying battles on the streets of Shibuya, and a tonal shift that makes things much darker and more urgent. Reading it straight through felt like riding a rollercoaster that kept dropping and then pulling you through tight loops — the pacing alternates between long, atmospheric panels and frantic fight pages, so I often had to pause to breathe and let scenes sink in. Pro tip from my late-night reading sessions: read with a reading guide or chapter list handy so you can track which events correspond to which chapters. Some moments are spread over many chapters and reward slow rereads; other bits are small but pivotal and pop more on a second pass. If you want to know which exact chapter contains a particular fight or moment, tell me which scene and I’ll point you to the specific chapter.

The Shibuya Incident is the kind of narrative earthquake that reshapes everything afterward — in my view it literally cleaves the series into 'before' and 'after'. Before Shibuya the story still feels like an escalating conflict between ghoul investigators and ghoul groups, with personal stakes and a creeping sense of doom. After Shibuya the world itself has shifted: politically, socially, and emotionally. The CCG is battered and exposed; you start seeing power plays that were simmering in the background suddenly take center stage. Practically speaking, that arc triggers a timeskip and a tonal reset where the consequences of those days ripple outward — new leadership, new policies, and a more oppressive atmosphere toward ghouls. On a character level the timeline changes are huge. The incident scatters people, kills or maims many, and creates the conditions for Kaneki’s identity break and eventual rebirth as a different figure in the later chapters of 'Tokyo Ghoul'/'Tokyo Ghoul:re'. It’s also the moment where hidden manipulations (political puppeteering, V’s machinations, Furuta’s climbs) start to make sense in retrospect; events that seemed isolated before get tied back to Shibuya. Structurally the author uses non-linear flashes a lot after this point, so you get pieces of the past revealed later — but the anchor point remains that catastrophic week in Shibuya. For me it’s one of those rare arcs that legitimately reorders the series’ timeline and forces you to reassess character motivations and the stakes going forward.

I still get a knot in my stomach thinking about the chaos that followed the 'Shibuya Incident' ending in 'Tokyo Ghoul'. When the final beats hit, a lot of us felt this weird mix of grief and awe — like watching a gorgeous train wreck. My timeline filled with frantic caps, spoilers, and long, heartfelt posts. People were dissecting panels, comparing blood-splattered frames, and sharing artwork that turned the darkest moments into something almost reverent. I stayed up way later than I should have just scrolling through discussion threads, clutching a cold drink and feeling oddly proud of a story that could move so many people at once. But it wasn't just sadness. Fans also sparked intense debates: some praised the author’s daring choices and emotional payoff, others criticized pacing or felt certain character beats were rushed. There were creative outbursts too — AMVs, cosplay shoots of the most harrowing scenes, and theory posts predicting how the fallout would change the world of 'Tokyo Ghoul'. I also noticed a divide between manga purists and anime-only viewers; the adaptation’s handling left some confused or upset, which added fuel to spoiler arguments. Overall, the reaction felt alive and messy in the best way — a community processing trauma, beauty, and plot mechanics all at once — and it made me want to reread the arc with a notebook and a warm blanket.

I still get a little giddy thinking about the merch drop I grabbed after seeing the 'Shibuya Incident' arc unfold in 'Jujutsu Kaisen'. I stumbled on a huge poster of the Shibuya crossing scene at a con booth and it felt like owning a piece of that chaotic day — so many products use that visual as a backdrop. You’ll find posters, wall scrolls, and art prints that recreate the crowded streets, dramatic lighting, and key character moments from the arc. Aside from wall art, collectible options are everywhere: clear files and postcards that reproduce iconic panels, enamel pins and acrylic keychains showing battle snapshots, and T-shirts or hoodies with stylized Shibuya designs. Figures (from prize figures to scaled statues) often capture fight poses or battle damage from the arc, and some Nendoroid variants lean into the more dramatic expressions and accessories tied to those scenes. If you like physical books, the tankōbon volumes that contain the arc include colored spreads and cover art that are frequently reprinted as posters or included in special editions. I usually check official shops and convention exclusives first — those are the pieces that tend to capture the arc’s tone most faithfully — and then hunt for signed prints or limited runs online. It’s a little expensive sometimes, but having that Shibuya street print above my desk still makes me smile every time I walk in.

I geek out every time the credits roll on 'Jujutsu Kaisen' because the Shibuya Incident sequences are such a masterclass in staging, but the truth is that the arc was put together by MAPPA’s directing team rather than a single lone name. Sunghoo Park is the series director for 'Jujutsu Kaisen', and the studio organized a rotating crew of episode directors, storyboard artists, and animation chiefs to handle each intense episode — especially for the Shibuya Incident scenes. If you watch the end credits closely you’ll see different names on storyboards and episode direction credits from episode to episode; that’s normal for big action arcs so each segment can get the specialist attention it needs. If you want a tight list of exactly who directed which Shibuya episode, the practical route I use is simple: check the episode’s end credits or look up the episode staff pages on official sources like the show’s website, Crunchyroll’s episode pages, Anime News Network, or MyAnimeList. Those places will show the episode director, storyboarder, and sometimes the animation director for each episode. I’ve paused Blu-ray menus and streamed versions just to scribble down names — it’s a small hobby of mine — and you can learn a lot about why a particular shot felt different by comparing who storyboarded it. So, no single director “staged” the Shibuya Incident episodes; it’s a collaborative product of MAPPA under the series director’s supervision, with individual episode directors and storyboard artists handling the nitty-gritty. If you want, tell me which episode number you’re curious about and I’ll point out where to find the credited director for that specific episode.

Watching the Shibuya Incident unfold in 'Jujutsu Kaisen' hit me like a sucker punch — visually stunning, emotionally brutal, and absolutely devastating for the roster of characters involved. To be clear: Gojo is not dead after Shibuya. What happens is far crueler in some ways — he's sealed inside the Prison Realm, which leaves him alive but effectively removed from the board. That distinction matters a lot for the story: sealed means hope, rescue attempts, and other characters forced to grow without him; dead would close a lot of doors permanently. If you're someone who only watches the anime, that sealed status can feel like a death sentence because the visuals and reactions are so final in the moment. For manga readers, the aftermath is an extended period where the world wrestles with his absence; villains act bolder, and allies are forced into hard choices. The narrative uses his sealing to explore responsibility, legacy, and how a group functions without its strongest anchor. I still get chills rereading the arc — not just because of the chaos but because the writers made the implications meaningful instead of just using shock value. If you want to keep following the emotional fallout, the manga continues the story past Shibuya and shows how characters cope and change. Personally, I kept flipping pages with a weird mix of dread and curiosity, wondering what would happen if Gojo ever came back into play.

I was on a late-night train when I hit the chapter where everything in the city collapses, and it honestly rewired how I see almost every character in 'Jujutsu Kaisen'. The 'Shibuya Incident' isn't just spectacle — it rips the stabilizers off the story and forces people to grow up or break. Most obvious is the mentor-vacuum: with Satoru sealed, the kids are suddenly untethered. That absence reshapes their arcs from being pupils learning tricks to being survivors who have to make terrible choices without a safety net. Yuji's trajectory becomes heavier; he’s no longer just the upbeat kid who eats on the couch. The arc piles grief and guilt on him, and you can feel him processing what it means to be a vessel with agency — his moral compass is tested in new, brutal ways. Megumi, meanwhile, moves from quiet strategist to someone whose potential carries a darker weight. After 'Shibuya', his choices feel like tectonic plates shifting: he’s positioned as a future fulcrum of the world, and readers see hints that his resolve could swing into unsettling territory. Casualties like Nanami create emotional detonations that push others to confront mortality and purpose immediately. On the other side, antagonists like Mahito and Kenjaku stop being distant threats and become personal nightmares for the cast; the arc forces intimate confrontations that leave lasting scars. Secondary characters (Maki, Panda, Toge) stop being side-support and become essential; their limits, trauma, and stubbornness are spotlighted. Overall, 'Shibuya Incident' accelerates everyone’s evolution: it trades comfort for consequences, optimism for urgency, and the result is a much darker, more morally complex story where even victories feel costly. I still think about that train ride and how stunned I was — it’s the kind of arc that makes you re-read everything to catch the little moments that suddenly matter.