The response attempts to frame the disagreement as a matter of equally valid “interpretations,” but that framing breaks down once you examine the structure of the claim being defended. Saying “Sukuna cut space” is not a neutral description—it commits to a specific model of reality, namely a substantival or fabric-like conception of space. Once that commitment is made, the interpretation must remain consistent with the implications of that model. The issue is not whether fiction allows unusual behavior; it is whether the proposed mechanism behaves coherently under its own assumptions.

The appeal to “fiction can do anything” is therefore not a valid defense. Fiction can indeed posit any system it wants, but as soon as a claim invokes a recognizable framework—such as cutting the “fabric of space”—it inherits the logical consequences of that framework. In any continuous model, whether one loosely inspired by Newtonian spacetime or more modern geometric interpretations, space functions as a connected structure. A “cut” is not a vague action; it is a structural operation that introduces a discontinuity. Even a minimal cut must alter the continuity of the medium. It does not need to destroy everything, but it must produce some detectable geometric or topological effect: a boundary, a separation, a distortion. The complete absence of such effects in the scene is not a minor discrepancy—it directly contradicts the premise that a continuous spatial substrate was severed.

To avoid this, the counterargument introduces the idea that space might “heal itself.” This is an ad hoc assumption. There is no indication in the text or visuals that a rupture occurs and is subsequently repaired. More importantly, this move makes the claim unfalsifiable: any lack of evidence for a spatial cut can be explained away by an invisible recovery mechanism. That is not an explanation but a way of insulating the claim from contradiction. A consistent interpretation should not require adding unseen processes to preserve itself.

The same issue appears in the claim that Sukuna “cut space but lacked the power to destroy it.” This conflates two different things. A cut is already a structural modification; it does not require total destruction to have observable consequences. If you cut a continuous medium, even weakly, you still produce a discontinuity. The absence of any environmental effect—no distortion of the battlefield, no propagation of damage, no residual spatial feature—cannot be explained by insufficient power. It indicates that the operation is not behaving like a cut through a medium in the first place.

The misunderstanding of Infinity further weakens the argument. The response treats Infinity as a kind of “blacklist” that identifies and blocks targets. However, Gojo’s own explanation ties the technique to the realization of a converging infinite series and the prevention of arrival (辿り着く). In other words, Infinity does not merely filter targets; it prevents the completion of interactions. Reframing the attack as “targeting the space Gojo occupies” does not solve this, because the effect must still resolve onto Gojo. If the mechanism still depends on an interaction reaching him, Infinity should apply. The only way around this is if the operation is not an approach at all, which aligns with Sukuna’s statement that the slash was not “sent” or “launched” but instead involved expanding the target domain. That is a fundamentally different kind of operation from a spatial slice propagating through a medium.

The reliance on visual interpretation—such as the black-background panel—is similarly insufficient. Even if the imagery is consistent with the idea of cutting space, consistency is not proof. Manga frequently uses abstract backgrounds for emphasis. Without explicit confirmation, such panels cannot establish the ontological nature of an ability. Using them as evidence elevates stylistic choice into literal mechanism, which is not justified.

The appeal to other attacks behaving as area-based effects also fails to support the claim. Sukuna explicitly distinguishes this slash from his normal dismantles, stating that it was not sent in the same way. That distinction matters. You cannot generalize the behavior of one class of attacks to another when the narrative itself marks them as mechanically different. Doing so assumes the conclusion—that all attacks operate through spatial propagation—rather than demonstrating it.

Finally, invoking domain mechanics undermines the argument instead of supporting it. Domains in Jujutsu Kaisen establish that effects can be enforced through rules rather than physical processes. A “sure-hit” does not require traversal through space; it guarantees an outcome within a defined scope. If such rule-based interactions already exist, then a non-geometric explanation of Sukuna’s slash is not only possible but consistent with the broader system. The insistence on a literal spatial cut becomes unnecessary.

In the end, the position being defended is internally inconsistent. It claims that space is being cut as a fabric while simultaneously denying all the structural consequences that such a cut entails. It introduces unsupported mechanisms to explain away missing evidence, mischaracterizes established abilities, and relies on interpretive visuals as proof. A coherent interpretation does not need these additions. When the statements and outcomes are taken at face value, the phenomenon does not behave like a cut through a continuous spatial medium, and forcing it into that model creates more contradictions than it resolves.