Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She opens her eyes with the taste of blood in her mouth and giant hands crushing her. (Where am I?)

The vastness of her endless slumber ripped away from her. The pit in her stomach deepens. (Who am I?)

The cold discomfort of a second soul intertwined with her own makes itself known. (Who is that?)

She can’t breathe.

She can’t move… can’t she?

She can move.

She can move!

“I CAN MOVE!” she cries with a joy she never felt in her previous life. (How did he do this again? Oh, right-)

“Cleave.” Purple blood coats her new body as the ugly beast in front of her explodes violently at the hands of her technique, diced apart in an instant. She can’t help the manic laughter that spills from her mouth after feeling the curse spilled all across her body. (I can feel again!)

“At last! A body of my own!” The skies above are so beautiful and clear tonight. (I think there used to be more stars in the sky.) 

She can feel the wind caress her skin, the fabric of her strange garments flapping in the wind. She can feel the evening chill in the air, nipping at her hands. (I feel so alive.)

There’s no smell of rotting flesh in her nose. There’s no blood on her tongue. Already, the curse’s blood she spilled over herself has evaporated into the night. (I am clean.)

She feels the everpresent hum of her cursed energy swirling around her, coiling in on itself as it clings to her skin like armor, stronger than any steel but lighter than a feather. (I feel safe.)

“What a beautiful sight I awaken to!” (I’m not alone.)

She turns her head, and sure enough, her intuition proved correct. There was a boy sitting nearly collapsed on the ground, shadows pooling strangely around his feet. (A Fujiwara?) “What are you doing here, Fujiwara? You look injured.”

The young boy’s eyes widen with fear as she sweeps in front of him in a single fluid motion and places the pads of her(?) fingers on his chest, the warm white glow of reverse cursed technique engulfing the boy’s body. “Child, are you alright? It seems foolish for you to face such a curse with no backup.” (Why does he look so scared? Oh, yes, my cursed energy.)

The moment she suppresses her aura, the Fujiwara child takes several deep shuddering breaths. (It seems the pressure of my cursed energy was too much for the child.) “Child-”

With no warning, her hand flies up to her neck. What? (I’m not doing that.)

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing with my body?” (That’s not her voice.) No. no. no. Please no, anything but this! (I don’t want to go back!)

She feels her eyes start to slip shut, a foreign and invasive feeling tugging her out of control. (Not like this!)

(I want to feel the sun on my skin, I want to feel the grass around my ankles, I want to feel my body wreathed in cloth again, I want to lay on a bed of gold like he used to, I WANT TO BE FREE!)

(She falls.)

She wakes up on a bed of gold, with the sun shining down upon her, her body wrapped in familiar silks, a paradise garden of spider lilies and white chrysanthemums stretching infinitely around her. (I still have a body?)

No she doesn’t. She quickly realizes that, despite this place’s immense beauty, she is a prisoner here. (Can I still see?)

She realizes that she can, despite not being able to control her(?) body, she can still see from its eyes and hear from its ears. (I need to calm down.)

Deep breaths. She tries hard not to think about how close she got to having her own lungs to breathe from. (But these lungs are mine, I can breathe down here.)

Get your bearings. Look in the reflection of his palms. What do you look like? (Who am I?)

The reflection staring back at her has four red eyes, two facing forward with the secondary ones facing outwards, granting her 270° vision, two arms with birthmarks beneath the armpits, two mouths, one on her face and the other on her belly, and tattoos all across her body. (I look just like him.)

She cards her fingers through her flowing hair that reaches the small of her back to calm herself. (Pink, with brown roots, just like his.)

Slow your breathing. Calm down. Panicking solves nothing. (It’s my body, mine , not his .)

Her heart beats slower, panic slowly subsiding from her mind. She looks down at her(?) clawed hands, puncturing her skin with them. (I feel the pain. This is real. I am real.)

(I am real.)

In this place, this body is hers, outside of here, she’s trapped in her vessel’s body. (Where is here?)

She’s clearly in her innate domain right now, after being kicked out of the body she woke up in. Her memories are a total mess and she can barely put any of her experiences from her past life together, let alone any of the ones in this one. (Some reconnaissance might help with that). 

Electing to expand her senses, she tries to figure out if she’s still in the same body she woke up in.

“-I ate it,” she said. Wait, no, not her, his body said that.

There’s a man in front of her with white hair and a very young face wearing a blindfold, seeming to almost stare though it to look at her. “For real?” the man says.

”For real” The body and the Fujiwara chorus.

“Does your body feel okay?” The man asks her body. (Why does he look so familiar?)

“Yeah, I feel fine,” her vessel responds. (I don’t feel fine. Our feelings are different, because my vessel is not me.)

“Can you switch with Sukuna?” She feels herself pale in her innate domain. (He’s here?)

The next words her body speaks confuse her. “Who’s Sukuna?” (How does he not know who Sukuna is?)

“The name of the guy who’s finger you just ate? Y’know, the guy currently bouncing around in your head?” She breathes a massive sigh of relief at those words. (It’s just me, not him. I’m not my vessel, and he is not me.)

“Ooooh that guy? Yeah he hasn’t really done much, thus far he’s just been panicking in my head, it’s kind of annoying to be honest.” She feels indignation rise in her chest, but she artfully pushes it down in favor of sating her curiosity. (Who is this child to be able to restrain my power?)

“I doubt Sukuna appreciates that comment, you know?” (Damn right I don’t.)

She tries to get a feel for the tall man’s cursed energy. It feels electric and overpowering, like the smell of ozone left in the air after one of Kamutoke’s thunder strikes. (I’ve felt that cursed energy before, and I’ve seen that face, but where?)

“Yeah, it felt like he got really angry for a second there. You wanted me to switch with him, right?” (That’s where I’ve seen that face before!)

“Yeah!” He says cheerfully. “Just for a minute though, then you can take control back.”

She feels her soul being tugged back into the front of her vessel’s mind, and the phantom sensations of her limbs becoming real as she finds herself standing before the tall man with a smug look on her face. “Greetings, Sugawara.”

That seems to give him pause for a second before he breaks out laughing. “You’re about a millennium too late for that. We haven't been Sugawara for a long time. I’m Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer.” (That’s embarrassing.)

She probes for information from the white haired sorcerer. “But you still bear the eyes, even to this day, correct?” (I have to check that he’s telling the truth.)

“Yep,” he says, popping the p as he slides the blindfold up his face, revealing those impossibly blue eyes she dreams about. “So, care to tell me about any evil plans you may have? Got any particular children you’re looking forward to killing?”

She can’t help herself, she laughs heartily. “Ah, no such thing, Gojo. I must admit I am glad to see that the Sugawara bloodline has managed to wind its way throughout the ages without dying out. Though I have to say, these must be strange times, since I have awakened to see the descendants of Sugawara and Fujiwara standing side by side.” (He’s probably just checking that my host can control me. If only he couldn’t.)

Gojo’s expression twists into something between disgust and discomfort. “Eugh, don’t talk like that, you sound like the elders.” (I like him more and more as each second passes.)

“You’re funny, Gojo. I like you already.” She felt a tug on her soul. (Panic grips her for a terrifying moment before she remembers that it’s not him who’s pulling her back.) “What a shame, my time is already up. I hope to speak to you soon.” she said, the bewildered expression on the Six Eyes’ face fading away as she returned to her innate domain.

“What an entertaining awakening I have had,” she says to no one in particular. (My awakening, not his .) The empty fields of her domain stay silent, save for the faint rustling of flowers in the wind.

She feels a sudden jolt, peeking out her vessel’s eyes only to find them closed. (Oh. I suppose that Gojo sorcerer knocked my vessel out.) 

She tries taking her vessel over as he slept, but somehow she remains sealed in her domain no matter how much she tries to escape. (What is giving him the strength to hold my soul in place?)

After recognizing the disappointing futility of her attempts to escape her prison, she thinks it best to take stock of her situation in this strange era she had awoken to, organizing her thoughts and circumstances into a list. Her findings are as such:

1: During my stay amongst the dead, my soul was split in twenty pieces and stored in my fingers.

2: This body’s constitution is incredibly unique, being almost reminiscent of his .

3: I have been dead for over a thousand years at this point, and have awakened to a very different time.

4: The Fujiwara child bears the 10 Shadows technique, and that Gojo shares techniques with Sugawara no Michizane.

5: Somehow, this body bears his technique, despite him never having any children to pass it on.

“Somehow, this is all that brain’s fault, I know it.”

“Huh,” Gojo remarked as he caught the vessel’s falling body, “Y’know, I’ve been imagining what meeting the King of Curses would be like for a while now, and I can’t say I expected that this what he’d be like.”

“I expected more screaming bloody murder from him,” Megumi said with a frown. “Something feels very… off about Sukuna.”

Gojo laughs, retrieving his souvenir bag from his student. “You can say that again! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he almost seemed kind.”

The younger sorcerer gets to his feet. “Sukuna healed me, you know?”

Gojo, caught off guard by his student’s words, spits out his drink. “Sorry, Sukuna did what?” Even Gojo can’t do that, and he’s the strongest.

“He healed me. It almost felt like when Shoko does it,” Megumi reiterated. 

“It seems like Sukuna has many hidden talents.” Since when was Sukuna able to heal others? It doesn’t surprise him that Sukuna knows how to perform RCT—he didn’t earn the title ‘King of Curses’ for nothing, after all—but being able to perform it on another? Unheard of. 

Megumi remains silent for a moment before returning to his senses. “They’re gonna try to kill him, aren’t they?”

Gojo snorts. “Yeah, probably. Why, you want me to save him?” Truthfully, he's very curious to see where this will go.

Megumi looks away. “...Yeah. Sukuna’s the one that deserves it, not his innocent vessel.”

Gojo raises his eyebrow under his blindfold. “That a request from my student?”

“It is,” replies Megumi with a sigh.

“Consider it done!” Gojo replies with his usual cheer.

Chapter Text

She feels another phantom jolt in her eyelids and realizes that her vessel is waking up. (What will happen to us now, I wonder?)

Peering through her vessel’s tired eyes, she looks around the room they’re in, taking stock of her situation once again. All manner of talismans, seals and barriers covered the room from floor to ceiling, most of which seemed focused on suppressing, concealing and protecting. (There are a lot of them, but most of this sealwork is incredibly sloppy. Only a novice would make such simple mistakes in their talismans.)

“Good morning, Itadori. Rise and shine.” (Gojo’s here. That would make any kind of escape difficult.) “Which one are you right now?”

Her vessel groans. “Wait, aren’t you-”

“Gojo Satoru, head of the first years at Jujutsu High.” (He’s a teacher? My respect for this one grows with each new thing I learn about him.) 

She feels anger that is not her own rise in her vessel’s soul, cursed energy spiking erratically. “Where’s Fushiguro!? Where are my friends!?” (Fushiguro? He must be the Fujiwara child.)

She has an idea at this moment. She speaks to her vessel’s mind rather than his body. “Calm yourself, vessel. I healed Fushiguro before you took our body back.”

She feels the boy’s face twist into confusion. “Could you hear that? Is that Sukuna?”

Gojo’s voice gains a shade of curiosity as he asks, “Oh? What’s he saying to you?”

She elaborates, “He will not be able to hear me, I am speaking only to you.”

Her vessel’s face turns thoughtful as he replies, “Uh… not much. He said that he healed Fushiguro, though. Is that true?”

Gojo stands up from his seat in front of her. (What an odd way to sit in a chair.) “Yep, Megumi is right as rain after Sukuna here healed him! And though your friends were injured, they’re both gonna be fine!”

Her vessel beams in response. “That’s great!”

“Isn’t it?” Gojo responds, “Unfortunately, it’s been decided that you’re going to be executed.” (What!?)

“WHAT!? Why? What did I do?” She feels a sense of foreboding about her captor’s answer.

“You ate the finger, remember?” he says, taking another of her fingers out of his pocket and levitating it in front of her. “That finger belonged to Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses from a thousand years ago! Just the finger is dangerous enough, but then you went on to eat it, and ended up giving him a vessel of his own.”

She feels her vessel’s face scrunch in confusion. “Uhh, what does that mean, mister Gojo?” (Is my vessel this much of a fool?)

Gojo continues in an icy tone. “It means that Sukuna has a chance to be unleashed onto the world again, and if he does…” 

The sorcerer’s tone turned cheerful again. “He's gonna kill, like, a lot of people!”

“Oh no,” her vessel replies in a weak voice. (Gojo is a teacher, so I doubt he’d kill a child. There has to be a catch.)

“Luckily for you, there’s another option,” (Thought so.) Her vessel—Gojo said his name was Itadori—perks up at Gojo’s words. “Sukuna’s existence is directly tied to his fingers, which are impervious to any normal means of damage. Hell, even my power is not enough to destroy them.”

He tosses her finger into the air, blasting it with some kind of red light that sends it soaring through the air. But when the dust clears, the finger remains totally undamaged, even though it has blasted a sizable crater in the wall. (Incredible. My finger and the curse inside are perfectly balanced, stabilizing one another, rendering it totally indestructible until its equilibrium is disrupted.)

“See? No damage.” Gojo summons the finger back to his hand, spinning it around his hand like a pen. “But when you eat them, you tie those fingers to your own life, so those pieces of Sukuna die with you. I can get you a deal to delay your execution until after you’ve eaten all twenty of Sukuna’s fingers. In the meantime, you can come to Jujutsu Tech, where I teach, and learn how to use your new powers for good.”

Itadori droops back down at his words. “So I die either way at the end of this, don’t I? Twenty fingers you said? Does that include his toes?” (Clearly, my mythical status has died out during his long age of death.)

Gojo laughs at that. “Sukuna has four hands.” (No, he doesn’t. 2 of those arms aren't his.) 

Gojo continues in a far more grave tone. “Listen, kiddo, I’m sorry this situation sucks, especially for the guy at the center of it all, but there is really no other way.”

Itadori falls silent for a long moment, Sukuna’s voice echoing in his mind. “Steel yourself, Itadori. These are your convictions and this is your life, you must make this choice, not Gojo.”

She senses a resolute feeling crawling up her, his body. “My grandpa told me to help people when I can, and to not die alone like he did.” He looks up at his captor with a steely glare. “I’ll eat all of Sukuna’s fingers, I’ll attend your school, and when I die, I will not die alone!”

Truthfully, Yuji has no idea what to think of his situation. He’s been turning it over in his head ever since Gojo told him he was set for execution, and he still has no idea what to make of it. Gojo warned him that Sukuna was immeasurably evil. But, at least for the three or so days Yuji has known Sukuna, the King of Curses almost seems nice. Almost. He definitely doesn’t trust Sukuna yet, since he could just be a smooth talker, but some of his actions are inexplicably kind. Sukuna even offered to heal Ichugi and Sasaki, which he declined, since Gojo said they were sending someone named ‘Shoko’ out to heal them, and Gojo warned him never to take any of Sukuna’s deals.

He half expects Sukuna to be constantly taunting him, trying to break him down and testing his will, but to his surprise, Sukuna stays mostly silent throughout the day, choosing to communicate mostly in feelings and sensations rather than speech. Most of the time, it was foreign sensations of curiosity and wonder about the world, otherwise withdrawing into his mind where he could barely feel the King of Curses.

Today is definitely the weirdest, though, even considering that weird spike of emotion he felt from Sukuna a few days ago when he was getting ready. (He still has no idea what that was about.) It's the day of his grandfather’s cremation, and after going to get Grandpa’s urn from the funeral home, Sukuna speaks for the first time in several days. 

“Your grandfather? ” he says.

“Yeah.” Yuji replies solemnly.

Sukuna lets out a hum that feels almost consoling. “My condolences, Yuji. What was he to you?”

Yuji doesn’t know what possesses him at that moment. Maybe he’s sad and lonely and just wants someone to talk to. Maybe he’s still processing his sealed fate. Maybe he just wants to say something in return. 

“He took care of me after my parents died. He was constantly grumpy and too stubborn for his own good, but he was the closest thing to a dad that I remember.”

“A shame. He sounds like he was a good person,” Sukuna responds as he goes to sit on the bench at the bus stop.

“Yo! Yuji!” 

He turns towards the bubbly voice that calls out to him, seeing Gojo and Fushiguro walking towards him. “Changed your mind at all since three days ago?”

“No, I still want to do it,” he replies. “You said Sukuna’s fingers are dangerous on their own, not just when they incarnate. I can’t just ignore the death they cause now that I know I can do something about it.”

Gojo flashes him a big smile as he reaches into his pocket. “Great! Here’s the second of his fingers. Here you go!” he says, tossing it to Yuji.

He looks down at the gnarled digit, its red and purple coloration almost glowing, the jet black nail catching the sun’s rays. He takes a deep breath, psyching himself up and, in one fluid motion, swallows the finger whole.

A horrible, malevolent aura explodes from his body.

The sensation is addictive. Her entire body hums and vibrates with power, the fog in her head clearing as her soul greedily absorbs the finger’s power. It’s horrible. It’s powerful. It’s freeing. (I must compose myself.)

She brings her out-of-control cursed energy back under her tight hold, drawing her aura back inside herself. (And that was only the second of my fingers, I shudder to think what the power will feel like when I have all of them.)

After overhearing the conversation between Yuji and Gojo, she feels even more out of her depth in this world. So in the following days, she watches, hears and understands the many strange things that surround her. After all, her memories are a total mess, and trying to recreate her mind as it was before this new life seems equal parts pointless and futile. The memories will come to her if she needed them, she could trust in that. (I only have myself to trust, after all.)

She learns so very many things in the following days. For one, she learns that she is still in Japan, but this place is far different from the Japan she left behind after her death. In this Japan, nearly everyone has stone houses, not just the powerful. Some are built from bricks, others from a kind of stone that could be poured as fluid. The roads are paved, not with cobblestone, but with a kind of blackened rock. There are things called ‘cars’ that are cast from some kind of steel and used for transportation, and small handheld metal boxes called phones used for communication and entertainment.

Speaking of entertainment, it is no longer a thing that only the nobles can enjoy off the backs of the peasants' work. Nearly everyone has access to theaters, and her vessel even has access to a home theater that could play performances. It seems that every time she peers through her vessel’s eyes, there is a new thing in front of her that had never existed in her old life, whether it be technology or cursed energy. (My vessel replayed a past performance about a disgusting curse-human hybrid who accidentally killed two of its brothers called ‘Human Earthworm 2’ that would look right at home in one of Kenjaku’s abandoned laboratories.)

Speaking of that, something is oddly… off about this age’s cursed energy. It feels blunted, almost subdued, like a violent animal beaten into submission by a cruel master. The 10 Shadows’ boy’s cursed energy, for instance, almost recoils back from those around him, almost like it is scared to touch them. The Six Eye’s cursed energy is galvanized, constantly primed to attack and destroy everything around it, but it lacks the bladed edges that Michizane’s cursed energy had. Instead, there is a pointed feeling, like the spiked shaft of a kanabo. (It’s not just his either, everyone, even the common man’s cursed energy feels much less lethal than before. Such a change would imply a civilization-wide shift in mindset.)

One of the things she is most curious about is the composition of Yuji’s physiology. It feels eerily like her old body, which is strange enough as is, and certainly makes her question this one’s blood. And that was before she first saw Yuji’s body in a mirror. His body is his , her, spitting image. Pink hair with brown roots, secondary eyelids he did not know how to open, a broad yet tall build with powerful arms, and two oddly shaped birthmarks placed directly beneath his armpits. Even worse, when she looks at his soul, she sees it, an unawakened technique engraving for shrine . (Yuji is a descendant of mine? But how? I was never able to bear any children and neither could he .)

She needs to learn more about her grandson’s parentage, and quickly. The way she sees it, there are two possibilities about why he bears such a visage and that technique. The first is that the rest of his body, not just the fingers, were turned into cursed objects, and his remains were used to create spawn to an unknown end shortly after his demise. The second is that someone had used one of her fingers to meddle with the circumstances of Yuji’s birth directly, likely using themself as a pseudo-surrogate and mutating the fetus with some kind of technique or object. Both seem equally likely, and it feels like a certainty that the despicable brain is at least tangentially related to the boy’s parentage. (He likely awakened his cursed energy when ingesting my finger, and it won’t be long until he figures out his technique.)

Either way, Yuji is a tragic victim of circumstance, and is certainly unwittingly involved in some greater scheme. (I will protect him as one of my own. I refuse to allow Yuji to befall such tragedy with no way to fight back.)

She lays back on the throne of gold in her innate domain, the clear, sunny skies of her inner world clouding over, drawing a barrier between her and the child’s mind. She screams in burning rage over the cruelty of fate. Whoever dared to do such a thing would pay, and her child would be allowed a long and happy life with all the power and friends he wanted. She would make sure of it.

But to save her blood, she has to think. She has to scheme, to use every last measure of her guile and wit to stack the impossible odds in her favor. She may not have many cards to play from the chains of her child’s body, but she still has many moves left to play. Right now, it is time to survey the board and learn every last piece. (I have much to do and even more to learn with an unknown period to do it. I have to succeed, for him, and for me.) 

Chapter Text

Despite the fury boiling inside of her, she manages to swallow her rage, tuning back into the world around her, and finding that she is still in front of Fushiguro and Gojo. (There is a cosmic sort of irony about the 10 Shadows and the Six Eyes collaborating against Sukuna again.)

The black haired boy speaks up as her aura disperses. “You said you’ll be going to the same Jujutsu school that I’m at, right?”

“Uh,” Yuji thinks for a beat, “I think so? That’s what Gojo said, at least.”

“Yep!” The Six Eyes confirms. “You’ll be starting your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical alongside Fushiguro Megumi here, as well as a third classmate we’ll pick up once you’re done with the entrance exam.”

She decides to answer Yuji’s question before he can ask it. “Sorcerers are very rare. In my time, a village would be lucky to have even a single sorcerer in it.”

“Oh, okay! When are we leaving?”

The Six Eyes hums, stroking his chin in contemplation. “How about right now? Wanna teleport there?”

Yuji’s eyes widen in amazement. “You can teleport?” (He can teleport?)

Gojo nods vigorously. “Uh huh! Cool, right? Limitless is the best.” (I don’t remember Michizane ever using his technique like that. It’s not just technology that has progressed, cursed energy has come a long way, too. Perhaps this strange shift in cursed energy behavior is not its power dulling, instead being something akin to optimization.)

“Gojo.” Fushiguro speaks up in an annoyed voice. “Principal Yaga is gonna kill you if you’re late again.” 

His teacher huffs in annoyance. “You’re no fun, Megumi, it’s called being fashionably late.”

Yuji raises his hand to ask a question. “Uh, Gojo-sensei? I wanna teleport. Can we teleport already?”

“Sure, hold on tight!” As soon as the two boys’ hands make contact with Gojo, she feels the scenery around her suddenly and violently shift, colors blurring for a fraction of a second before condensing into brand-new shapes, revealing what was presumably Tokyo Jujutsu High. (Fascinating. It felt less like instant transportation and more like the world around me shifting to accommodate Gojo’s will.)

Gojo throws his hands out to either side, gesturing wildly to the temple buildings surrounding him. “Here we are, students! Tokyo Jujutsu High. Megumi, you hang out in the dorm until Yuji here’s entrance exam is over.” (He certainly has a flair for the dramatic.)

Yuji looks puzzled at his teacher’s words. “Wait, entrance exam?” (Was he just not paying attention earlier?) 

“Gojo mentioned it earlier, were you not listening to his words?” she asks. 

“Uh, no.” Yuji replies.

“Who are you talkin’ to, Yuji?” Gojo asks. (He definitely knows it’s me.) 

“ You needn’t answer me out loud, Yuji, I can hear your words just fine if you speak them in your mind .”

Yuji takes a moment to figure out the method, but manages to mentally reply, “Agh, sorry, Sukuna.” 

Yuji pauses for a moment. “Uh, Sukuna. He sometimes talks in my head. Is that normal?”

Gojo laughs. “It’s a miracle that’s all he’s doing to you. What’s he saying?” (Wait, I have an idea, can I just–)

She manifests a mouth on Yuji’s neck. “I’m telling him to pay more attention to your words.” (Fantastic, since he’s not using his extra mouth, I can.)

Unfortunately, it seems like her experimentation startles her vessel, as he jumps at hearing her voice so close to his ear. He lets out a high-pitched squeal.

“Oh? I didn’t know you could do that, Sukuna,” Gojo says, lifting his blindfold to examine her mouth with the Six Eyes unfettered. (How exhilarating. The Six Eyes are quite the gaze to be trapped under.)

“Neither did I,” she replies honestly. “But as it seems, Yuji’s body is quite unique.” (If eating just two of my fingers is enough to mutate him this much, I wonder what else will happen to him as he continues to consume them.)

Gojo chuckles a bit at those words, sliding the blindfold back over his eyes. “Doctors would be fascinated with you, Yuji. Ever considered donating your body for science? Sukuna could probably put you back together afterwards.” (Just ‘probably?’ I definitely could.)

Yuji scratches the back of his head, saying, “I’m not sure that I'd feel so great about being dissected, even if it was for a good cause.”

She snorts at that. “As if I’d allow his heart to be torn from his chest. I’d be happy to take yours, though, o ‘strongest sorcerer’.”

With a wide grin, Gojo coos, “Ooh, Yuji, you hear that? I just got a threat from the Sukuna. I feel honored.” (You should.)

“Between you and Sukuna, who’s stronger?” Yuji asks with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Well, if Sukuna regained all his power, he might give me some trouble.”

“If Gojo went into the fight with perfect information, he could be quite bothersome.”

The two of them start to walk towards principal Yaga’s office. “But would you lose?” (It would be a magnificent battle, one to be remembered for the rest of my days…)

Gojo’s smug grin matched her own.

“Nah, I’d win.”

“I’d still win.”

The door swings open. (I see the two of us are of one mind.)

“You’re late, Satoru, and by eight minutes.”

With a satisfied hum, she returns to the depths of her innate domain. 

(What a bunch of weirdos.) She can't believe she was gonna be stuck with Potato Head and Urchin Hair for her entire time at Jujutsu high. She got some weird impressions from them, too, mostly from Potato Head, who’s apparently the vessel for the King of Curses. She has no idea what made him think eating a moldy finger was a good idea, but based on the looks of him, he’s probably eaten worse.

Oh, well. No time to feel sorry for herself, Roppongi awaits! “Hey, wait a minute–”

She shrieks, “THIS ISN’T ROPPONGI, YOU PAINTBRUSH!” at the same time as her pink-haired classmate asks, “Are you sure we’re in the right place!?” (How dare that Gojo! Deceiving us country folk! Shameless, absolutely shameless!)

Urchin Hair rolls his eyes at them and sighs. “Yeah, this is the right place, there’s a curse here.”

Potato Head exclaims, “But you said we’d be going to Roppongi!”

“Yeah, what he said!”

“Yeah, what I said!”

Her teacher chuckles. “And we are in Roppongi. Well, technically, at least.” He gestures between her and Potato Head before continuing, “You two are gonna be exorcizing the curses in this building! You excited?”

Her classmate speaks up. “But Gojo-sensei, I thought you said only curses could exorcize curses, and I don’t know how to use any spells.”

“You’re a special case, Yuji. Since Sukuna is mutating your body with each finger you consume, you’re becoming more like a curse yourself with all that cursed energy flowing through you.” Gojo pulls out a knife, handing it to Yuji. “So you’ll be using this, the grade 3 cursed tool, ‘Slaughter Demon.’”

Potato Head gasps in amazement, totally unconcerned by Gojo’s comments about being mutated into a curse. “So cool… let’s go, Nobara!” (Is he really just like that?)

“Oh, one more thing,” her teacher says as they make their way over to the building. “Don’t let Sukuna out. Sure, he’ll get rid of all the curses, but he’ll probably kill everyone in the neighborhood too.”

Yuji smiles and gives his teacher a thumbs-up. “Gotcha!” (Oh my god. He's actually just like that.)

Gojo was lying. If she was let out, she would not, in fact, kill any of the curses around her, nor would she kill any of the humans in the surrounding area. If her vessel set her free, she would cleave that disgusting cursed tool into nothing more than sand, find its worm of a maker, and tear their lungs out. (This… object is a disgrace to cursesmithing. It bears no technique inscription, no cursed energy trait, and it has not been fed any cursed spirits to open its cursed energy channels further. I am disgusted this is even near me.)

She misses Kamutoke, the masterpiece of cursesmithing that none could use properly save for her. “Yuji, if ever you wish to wield a cursed tool again, please ask me instead of your dullard teacher who has no mind for proper cursesmithing.” (Hiten, perhaps, or maybe Uchikudaku would be more fitting for one with such brute strength.)

Her vessel looks puzzled. “Uh, okay, Sukuna, but why are you so angry?”

“That brittle knife insults my very honor as a cursesmith,” she replies dryly, drawing the barrier between their minds so Yuji does not have to feel her anger.

Pushing her frustration over Gojo’s complete lack of taste in cursed tools aside, she realizes that she very much does want to see what Nobara’s technique is. (Perhaps I can make use of it.)

Reluctantly tuning back into Yuji’s senses, she immediately feels dust on his skin as he punches right through a stone wall. (What? That punch had no cursed energy behind it. Did consuming me do that to him, or was that just how he was born?)

Yuji calls out through the hole in the wall, “Huh? Did I miss?” (He was aiming to rip the hostage from the curse’s hands with that strike, I see.)

He then pushes through the rest of the wall as though it were not even there, severing the curse’s arm at the elbow, and sweeping the hostage away from his captor. (I wasn’t seeing things, his movements have no curse behind them, yet they still exceed what one’s normal humanity could allow.)

“You alright?” he asks the child with an easy smile, which the boy replies to with a nod. 

“Your eyes must not leave your enemy until it is dead, child.”

“Huh?” He says, setting down the young boy. “It’s getting away!”

“Not on my watch!” Her vessel’s classmate exclaims, “Gimme that arm!” (Her technique?)

Nobara takes a straw doll out of her vest, throwing it onto the severed limb before priming a nail with cursed energy and driving it into the effigy. “Straw Doll technique: Resonance!” Not even a moment later, her cursed energy is transferred from effigy to body, and massive spikes explode from the curse’s torso, killing it instantly. (Impressive. Her technique deforms an opponent’s soul using a piece taken from them. That can become quite the lethal technique to anyone who does not know how to guard their spirit.)

“I told you it was dangerous to go alone!” Yuji shouts.

Nobara retorts, “You never said that!”

“Yes I- wait, did I?” her vessel rubs his chin in contemplation. “Hey Sukuna, did I say that?” (Is he trying to get me to back him up in his childish argument?)

“I wouldn’t know, I was trying to avoid seeing that knife in my domain,” she replies. 

Nobara continues her thought, pointing at the shattered wall. “Besides, what the hell did you eat to be able to bust right through that wall!?”

“It wasn’t reinforced concrete!” Yuji indignantly shouts back. “That means very little. my vessel. With no curses behind your blows, you should not be able to accomplish such a feat.” (His soul has no trace of a Heavenly Pact, so his inhuman strength is not because of that.)

“So!? Normal people can’t just punch through concrete!” (Quite the fiery temper on this one.)

Still in their shouting match, Yuji says, “Hey, you’ve been asking all the questions, what about you? Why did you come to Jujutsu High?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, as Nobara’s face goes even more red with anger. “I DIDN’T WANT TO LIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE ANYMORE!” 

Yuji gives his classmate a dry look. “You’d really risk your life for that?”

Nobara’s demeanor changes in an instant. “If it means I can be true to myself, then yes.” (Honorable. I approve.)

She manifests a mouth on Yuji’s Adam's apple. “Many have given their lives for causes less honorable than a better life for oneself.”

“Wait, is that…” Nobara squints at her. “Sukuna? That’s kinda gross, honestly.”

She would turn up her nose at that comment, if she still had one. “How irreverent. My vessel is not using his extra mouth, so I shall.”

Nobara shrugs. “Doesn’t make it any less nasty. On another note though, thank you for saving me. If I had died there, or if I was the only one to survive, the future would have been a lot less bright.”

“What do you know, the girl does have some manners.” She says, mouth twisting into a sneer before vanishing back under Yuji’s skin. “That's not nice, Sukuna.” (Neither are her comments against me.)

“HEY!” The brown haired sorcerer cries, “I CAN BE PLENTY POLITE IF I WANT TO! Now, no more of this ‘thank you’ talk, I want food!”

“Wha-?” Yuji says in disbelief as she laughs in his mind. 

“It seems my judgment was too hasty.”

Chapter Text

While scheming in the depths of her innate domain in the following week, she quickly realizes that modern sorcerers have no idea how their techniques work. The only exception seems to be Yuji’s teacher, who is both competent and creative with his technique.

Fushiguro Megumi, the 10 Shadows child, is by far the most disappointing to see. Despite having such a fluid cursed technique, he seems fully intent on restricting himself to only summoning shikigami and nothing else. What’s more, he seems to be constantly holding back in every battle, coasting through due to his above-average martial arts skills and his powerful technique, never truly pushing himself to improve. It is truly disappointing to see a sorcerer who has trained most of his life still wallow in such stagnancy. (What would force him to fight with all his might, I wonder? Perhaps his care for my vessel is key.)

Initially, she is also quite excited about Nobara’s technique, especially the resonance technique being able to disrupt the soul. Disappointingly, though, Nobara is not blessed with the ability to view the shape of the soul, and seems to have no idea about its existence or why her technique is so powerful. Her hairpin technique, too, seems quite lackluster. It’s reasonably powerful, but slow, which seems to apply to most of Nobara’s combat prowess. Her mindset, particularly her ego, requires work too. Pride is very important for sorcerers, yes, but Nobara is proud to the point of rigidity, refusing to look at any other perspectives. (She needs someone to give her a reason to innovate, and to show her perspective is not all-seeing. Soft guidance, like what Gojo is doing with her, will not help her grow.)

She’s heard talk about some other students as well, mainly the second and third years, who seem to be the most promising. So far, she’s heard of a cursed speech user, which is an unfamiliar technique to her, but at least on paper seems like a powerful one. Additionally, she has heard of a girl with close to zero cursed energy, but a blessed body. (Could it be? That pact is still being passed down by the descendants of Fujiwara?)

She’s also heard talk about a pair of students, a second and a third year, who have both developed domain expansions at just sixteen years of age. One of them has apparently even tamed a vengeful cursed spirit. (Truth be told, I find myself eager to meet them. Those feats are very impressive, even by my standards.)

While she is musing over such things, Gojo barges into the common room of the student’s quarters, calling out to them in that cheerful tone he never seems to drop. “Students! I have an overseas mission, so you’ll be in the care of other sorcerers for your next missions until I’m back.” (Something is very off about this. Regardless of Gojo’s agreement, I am sure there are still many who wish death on my vessel.)

Deciding to hold her tongue for the moment to learn more about the intentions of the powers that be, she listens in more intently.

“Okay, sensei!” her vessel replies cheerfully. His classmates respond with groans.

Gojo gives his class a thumbs up, saying, “I’ll be back after a few days, so don’t die while I’m gone!” (A few days? Is Gojo a fool? There are many parties who would see my vessel dead, regardless of who is killed in the process, including his students.)

Her suspicions are confirmed hours later, when Yuji and the rest of his classmates are assigned a mission to check on the status of a curse womb, supervised by someone who cannot even wield their own cursed energy. (I have two options; I can either warn the three of them right now of the assassination attempt, or I can use this as an opportunity to see just how far our enemies will go.)

In the end, she chooses the latter option, guilt tearing through her innate domain as the clear skies cloud over, and heavy rain pours down across the usually sunny expanses of flowers that make up her innate domain. (I’m sorry, my child, for not being there to keep you from all harm this time. I vow to use this opportunity to shield you from future suffering, and to give you the tools to defend yourself when I cannot.)

Wiping her eyes, she finally tunes back into the outside world, hearing the 10 Shadows child explaining how missions are graded. “Normally, a sorcerer will be assigned an equal grade to the mission. For instance, Gojo-sensei would normally be assigned to this mission.” (I’m certain now, this cannot be anything but an execution if this is a mission suitable for the Six Eyes.)

Her vessel stops running his foot through a puddle on the path to the detention center to ask, “And where is the man himself now?”

“Away on a business trip,” the black-haired window, Ijichi, answers. “To be honest, he’s probably not someone who should be wasting his time at Jujutsu High. Our line of work is constantly lacking in manpower, and being overwhelmed with missions is commonplace.” (I can believe that. With how many more people there are, I would not doubt a massive increase in curses, comparable to the constant battlefield of Heian-Kyo.)

The window continues, “This mission, however, is an extraordinary emergency.” (Something isn’t adding up. Even curse wombs don’t evolve this fast, unless exposed to truly exceptional amounts of cursed energy.)

She feels indignation flare in her heart as she realizes the most likely plan the Sorcerer-authorities are using to execute her vessel. (Do they seek to wield the power of my own finger to empower a spirit enough to kill my vessel!?)

Pushing her anger down, she listens to the window’s warning to Yuji and his classmates. “When confronted with a special grade, you have two options: run away, or die. Do not engage the curse if you find it. Remember, you’re only here to check on the status of the curse womb and see if the inmates are still alive.” (As if. The curse womb’s domain is already active. I can see it from here.)

“Is my son ok?” asks an intruding civilian woman. (Definitely not.)

Ijichi pushes his glasses up his nose, saying, “There’s a possibility that poison was spread in the facility. We cannot disclose any information at this point.”

“Fushiguro, Kugisaki,” her vessel says as they walk towards the facility, a barrier being drawn behind them. “We have to save him!” (I see no changes in the usual barrier conditions, so that means they’re solely relying on the curse inside to kill Yuji.)

“Be careful, and good luck,” are the last words the manager says as the barrier closes behind the students.

Megumi doesn’t like this one bit. Gojo getting sent away just before they get assigned a scouting mission with a prospective special grade curse was beyond suspicious, even discounting the single manager supervising them.

Forming his shadow puppet, he chants, “Divine Dogs!” Tsuki and Taiyo bubble up out of his shadow. “If the curse gets close, these two will let us know.”

He sees Itadori giving Tsuki a pet before they enter the detention center and find themself in an innate domain. (Shit, that’s not good.)

“Wh-what’s going on here? This is a two-story dorm, right?” Itadori says, glancing around in a panic at the maze of pipes.

“It’s a maisonette!” Kugisaki exclaims, readying her hammer. “Just stay calm!”

“...an innate domain, not a maisonette.” he finally says, a bead of sweat falling from his face. (I’ve never seen one this large.)

“Wait, the door!” Itadori yells, gesturing to the long hallway behind them where the door once was.

Glancing at Taiyo to steady himself, he reassures his classmates in a slightly unsteady voice. “It’s alright. My dogs remember the scent of the door.”

His pink haired classmate addresses him with a smile and a thumbs up, “You’re so reliable, Fushiguro. You've saved a lot of people, including me!” 

Sighing at his classmates, who are currently giving his divine dogs more pets, he grouses, “...let’s go. We have a mission to complete.” (That ominous feeling is getting worse.)

As the three of them walk through the winding halls of the innate domain, Megumi finds himself lost in thought, with Sukuna at the forefront of his mind. The past week of missions and sparing have been incredibly strange. Itadori never complains about Sukuna, and even seems to get lost in thought talking to the curse. What’s more, Sukuna actually seems… almost protective of them, in a way. He warned Itadori about curses creeping up behind him a couple times, and even warned Megumi once. (I don’t understand him in the slightest. What the hell is he planning, and why does he care so much about Itadori?)

That is another strange thing about Sukuna; he seems to genuinely care about Itadori, only ever referring to him as ‘Yuji’ or ‘my vessel.’ Of course, Megumi knows better—curses can’t care about people, and Sukuna is the curse’s very king. He can also see that Gojo is beginning to get worried about his pink haired student’s safety, and makes a point to warn him about Sukuna every so often. (It worries me that Sukuna could exploit Itadori’s unconditional kindness. He deserves better than someone who will only manipulate him.)

A noticeable wave of cursed energy snaps him out of his trance, and he finds himself at the entrance of a drained and dirty pool. Three inmates are lying in it, mangled and dead. He watches his classmate walk up to the only one still recognizable as human. Itadori kneels down in front of the corpse, staring blankly at it.

“We’re bringing the body back,” his classmate says solemnly, inspecting the nametag on the prisoner’s mangled corpse. (‘Okazaki Tadashi.’ That’s the inmate that lady at the front was asking about.)

“What?” Kugisaki questions. “Why?”

“It’s that lady’s son,” Itadori responds. “His face isn’t that messed up, and she won’t be satisfied if we just tell her that her son is dead.” (We have no time for this.)

Stepping forward, he grabs the collar of his classmate’s uniform. “Leave him. We have to see if the other two are still alive.” 

Startling slightly, the pink haired boy asks, “How are we gonna get back here? Every time we look back, the pathway is different.” (Is he an idiot? There’s a special grade curse here.)

His brow creasing in frustration, he responds, “I said leave him, Itadori. I never said we’ll come back. He’s not even worth saving alive. Why would we save his corpse?”

“What are you saying?” his classmate demands angrily, grabbing his collar in return as a massive wave of cursed energy washes through the domain.

“This guy was driving without a license and ran over a girl on her way home from school,” he explains angrily, “and that was his second offense.”

A voice speaks out from Itadori’s neck, causing him to jump. “Silence your petty bickering, foolish children. you haven’t the time for this nonsense.” (Sukuna? Why?)

“Wait, what’s happening? And Sukuna, why are you out now?” Itadori says in confusion.

“I’ve been watching for a while now, since your teacher left for his trip,” the curse explains. “This was the last piece of evidence I needed to confirm the purpose of this farce.”

“What are you implying here, huh?” asks Kugisaki with suspicion dripping from her voice, as she steps towards him and his classmate.

Sukuna’s lips draw into a line, full of contempt. “You were sent here to die, I’m sure of it. The curse womb has already evolved into a fully fledged spirit.”

“What!? I thought we came here to check on the status of the curse womb!” Yuji exclaims, shock in his voice.

Releasing his grip on Itadori’s collar, Fushiguro answers, “don’t be dense, Itadori. Sukuna’s saying that we were sent on this mission in hopes we would die to the curse womb’s progeny.” (This is bad. Gojo’s out of the country so he can’t even help us.)

“You’re mostly there, but you got one thing wrong. This mission was not ‘assigned,’ it was created.” Sukuna corrects solemnly. (Wait, what? ‘Created?’ what does that even mean.)

“Huh?” the group says in unison.

Sukuna clarifies, “This curse womb’s creation and evolution were no accident. Someone purposefully placed this spirit here to assassinate you.”

“What!?” Kugisaki shrieks. “Can you even do that!?” (There is one way I can think of.)

“Normally, no. You cannot artificially create or empower spirits,” replies Sukuna, something dark in his voice. “However, there is one circumstance where a curse womb can be forcibly formed and evolved: feeding it a cursed object.” (Shit, that’s not good.)

“This curse was purposefully fed one of my fingers to empower it,” Sukuna continues “If my word alone is not enough, then ask Yuji, I have no doubt he can feel it as well at this distance.” Itadori’s eyes unfocus from him for a second, as if he’s listening to instructions from within his head.

Megumi feels himself tense up. He and Kugisaki classmate turn to Itadori expectantly, their faces scrunched up in concentration. 

“He’s not lying,” the pink-haired sorcerer says with finality. “I also feel a finger here.” (In that case, we’re in a really bad spot, especially since-)

The King of Curses finishes his thought out loud. “It would be unwise to leave one of my fingers in such a place. The curse has a large reservoir of misery to feed on in this place, and may begin to rampage soon if nothing is done to stop it.”

“Who would even do that!?” Kugisaki and Itadori shriek in unison.

“There are a wide array of parties who would see my vessel destroyed just to remove a tenth of my power,” Sukuna answers calmly. “However, the ones who assigned you this mission in the first place, and sent Gojo Satoru overseas are the most likely suspects.” 

Itadori looks horrified at his parasite’s words. “But so many people would get hurt if the spirit ever escapes.”

His secondary mouth twists into a frown. “As it would seem, the lives of your classmates, the prisoners who could not evacuate this place, and everyone who may be killed in the ensuing rampage of the finger-devouring curse have all been determined worthwhile if it means the death of just you, Yuji.” (Fuck that. I refuse to let Itadori die.)

“What can we even do?” Kugisaki grits out. “It’s not like Gojo is here to obliterate the curse for us. If it’s a special grade curse, then a grade 1 sorcerer would be needed to kill it, bare minimum.”

Itadori opens his mouth, and Megumi is filled with a strange sense of foreboding over what he was about to say. “We have a special grade with us right now, don’t we? If I let Sukuna out to take care of the curse, that would solve both issues, right?” (That’s a terrible idea.)

“No!” “Absolutely not.” Megumi and Kugisaki chorus.

“You have very few options other than me,” Sukuna points out dryly. “Unless you intend to sacrifice your own life for this sole special grade, this is an enemy you cannot beat.”

Megumi stills. (How does he know about Mahoraga?)

“Fushiguro?” Itadori asks slowly, clearly concerned. “What is he talking about?”

“I haven’t the time to explain this, children,” Sukuna remarks, worry in his voice. “The fact remains that unless Fushiguro turns to ritual suicide, you have no way to defeat this foe without me.” (Shit, he’s right, but I refuse to let Sukuna take advantage of him.)

A laugh echoes all around them, gleeful and sadistic. (It’s getting closer.)

“The curse?” Kugisaki murmurs, priming three nails with cursed energy.

“Kugisaki, Itadori, just run. I’ll kill it,” Fushiguro says grimly, raising his hands as if clutching a wheel. (I won’t let them die.) 

“But Sukuna said-”

“I don’t care what he said!” the black-haired boy barks. “Get out of here-” (It’s right in front of me-)

Pain. He’s only conscious of what has happened to him after he feels blood trickle down his chest from the special grade curse slashing at him. 

“Fushiguro!” He hears Itadori cry out as he clutches his chest, doubling over in pain.

He manages to choke out, “Itadori, don’t! Just run!” (I know what I have to do.)

“With this sacred treasure, I summon Eight-Handled Swor–” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his incantation as a malevolent aura explodes from Itadori.

Chapter Text

She’s the only one who sees it move. The fingerbearer cuts open Fushiguro’s chest in one swift motion. “He’ll bleed out swiftly if I am not there to repair him, Yuji .” (But that’s not what I’m worried about him doing.)

“You promise you can heal him? ” Yuji asks in response, as Fushiguro’s hands come up in front of him as if holding a wheel. (Dammit. Forget me, he’ll be the death of us all.)

“Of course I can, let me out and I’ll save all of you from this rampant fragment of mine.” She’ll have to teach him what a binding vow is after this is over. (Oh well, I suppose he doesn’t even know what a vow is yet.)

“With this sacred treasure, I summon Eight-Handled Swor–” 

She feels Yuji slowly slip out of consciousness as he says, “Deal , don’t you dare let them die.” Chains wrap around her soul, rattle, then lock. (Sleep now, child. When you wake, this shall all be over.)

“Greetings, children,” she says calmly, opening both sets of eyes to reveal a scene of the finger-bearing curse towering over a kneeling Fushiguro, halfway through the tenth refrain of the incantation of sacred treasures. Meanwhile, Kugisaki attempts to rush to his rescue, hammer in hand. (What an audacious little curse this one is.)

The Fingerbearer dares not move, its hand frozen in a second swing, ready to take Fushiguro’s life. (At least it knows to fear its maker.)

Her cursed energy rises through her body like a hurricane. “Lower your hands, Fushiguro. I warn you, I’m in no mood to be denied at the moment.”

As the Fujiwara child slowly lowers his trembling hands, she shoots a look to his classmate that requires the same of her. “Good choice, children. Now, to hold up my end of the bargain.” (This shall take some concentration to get right.)

Power explodes from the depths of her soul, rushing outward with the force of a raging wildfire, all at the behest of the six cursed words she speaks aloud. Yet her face remains calm, almost peaceful, as she forms the Dhyana Mudra. (It’s been far too long.)

“Domain Expansion: Vastness of the World.”

A new and deeply satisfying feeling of omniscience passes through her mind as a foreboding calm falls across everyone and everything around her. The grand effigy of the Buddha Amitabha surveys each curse, human, and object, each pinprick of cursed energy being carefully judged and measured for all of its merit, each object evaluated for sculpting. (What a wonderful feeling this is.)

By her will, judgment is passed, the storm comes, and the entire detention center, curtain, and special grade are all turned into little more than blood, ash, and shards of glass. (My will. Never his . Not anymore and never again.)

Blasting the dust away with a pulse of cursed energy, she snatches her finger out of the air and sweeps in front of Fushiguro, placing a hand on his chest despite his half-baked attempts to scramble away. “Do not struggle, child. I will heal you.” The white glow of reverse cursed technique emanates from her palm. She watches as the wound carefully stitches itself closed without even a scar or mark to hold its place. (How stubborn, choosing to call forth his untamed Tenth Shadow rather than ask for help.)

Reigning in her aura, she calls out to the brown haired sorcerer, who is dusting herself off. “Kugisaki, are you alright?”

“I have a few scrapes but-” The girl looks at her for a moment, puzzled. “Wait, why do you care?”

“Is it so surprising that I wish to know if my vessel’s friends are doing well after an assassination attempt?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, it is you we’re talking about,” the girl replies, slightly bewildered and still sweating from the pressure of her cursed energy.

“How disrespectful. You know little to nothing of my character yet you chose to assume the worst,” she remarks, turning up her nose at Nobara’s comments as the last ashes of the detention center float to the ground. “For your information, the wellbeing of my vessel and his companions are of great importance to me.” (Now, onto the next matter that must be addressed.)

“Fushiguro Megumi,” she addresses the boy coolly, taking a smug satisfaction in the way he flinches at her words. “A thousand years have passed since the first time the tenth refrain of the incantation of sacred treasures was first invoked, and I still find myself disappointed at its wielder. You are far too proud for your meager power, boy, more willing to end your own life in ritual suicide than dare ask for help. You risked the lives of your friends because you could not admit you were wrong. Imagine the world where I was not here to save you from your irresponsibility and be the strength you do not have.”

“I-” the child attempts to speak, but she raises a clawed hand in a motion of silence. (Listen well to my council, child.)

“I’m not done,” she interrupts, a slight edge in her voice. “You’re inconsistent, boy, and I see you subconsciously lying about your motivations. You brought up that Tadashi is unworthy of salvation due to his capacity to hurt others. Yet, you saved my vessel, who you knew had potential to do much worse than kill just a single girl. Think about why you fight, Fushiguro. A sorcerer without proper conviction is bound to die young.”

Turning her gaze to Yuji’s other classmate, she speaks again. “Kugisaki Nobara, you are frustratingly close to having a good mindset for sorcery, but you blind yourself with your own ego. Learn to consider different perspectives, both regarding the people around you and your cursed technique, before you get one of your friends, or worse still, yourself, killed. You say you live for yourself, yes? Then learn to maximize the value each piece of information provided to you gives.”

The brown-haired girl’s mouth falls open with disbelief.

“You needn’t respond, child,” she says to Kugisaki before turning back to Megumi. “Fushiguro, find that window and tell him to inform your sensei of the assassination attempt, or do it yourself if he proves uncooperative.” 

Fushiguro looks at her in slight bewilderment. “What are you trying to get at here?”

She sighs in frustration, flicking the boy in the forehead in reprimand, causing him to flinch. “Idiot child. You’re still in danger, and as foolish as your sensei was to leave you alone with Yuji in your ranks, he is still your teacher and the strongest sorcerer. I won’t be able to stay in control for much longer—perhaps only minutes—and I’d rather not have to do this again when so many eyes are watching. My manifestation here has put both my vessel and your lives even more at risk.”

Finally taking the hint, the 10 Shadows child scurries off to do as she asked, though not without firing a steely glare at her, which she returns. (Is my reputation seriously this bad? I clearly have research to do about just what stories have been passed down about me.)

Kugisaki speaks up hesitantly, looking like she’s halfway between bursting out laughing and having a nervous breakdown. “Uh. What now?” 

“Now, I perform a ritual to make my vessel less defenseless when I am not in control,” she states, placing her finger in her pocket. “You may also use this as a learning opportunity on barrierwork and ritual.” (Which gift to give him, I wonder?)

She kneels down at the site of the fingereater’s demise, inscribing a ritual circle around it, painting the ground with her cursed energy to establish a barrier, frowning slightly. (I miss Uraume. They were always so much better at inscriptions than me.)

“Kugisaki, assist me in the ritual,” she says, glancing back at her vessel’s classmate and beckoning her over.

“Uh,” the girl pauses, looking at her with suspicion, “Why? Is this some kind of fucked up blood sacrifice or something?” (I heal one of them twice, save them both, and this is the impression I give?)

She snorts. “Obviously not. If I had needed your blood, child, I would have taken it already.” She watches the child squirm slightly at the reminder of the vast difference in power between them. 

Nervously, the girl steps inside the barrier with her and meets her gaze. (If even she can hold my gaze, what’s his excuse?) “Good. Join hands with me, flare your cursed energy, and repeat my chanting.”

“The scars preserve the memory.”

“The scars preserve the memory.”

“The body retains the scars.”

“The body retains the scars.”

“The soul mirrors the body.”

“The soul mirrors the body.”

“Excellent,” she commends, their combined cursed energy flooding the barrier and fortifying it. “You may step out of the barrier now.”

“Empower.” The girl shuffles awkwardly out of the barrier, watching on in fear and slight fascination as she tosses her finger into the air.

“Temperance.” She rakes two of her claws across her vessel’s face, one above the eyebrows, the other across the bridge of the nose.

“In my arms.” The barrier collapses in on itself, closing in all around her as her mouth snaps closed over her finger.

“Technique Reversal: Engrave!”

Gojo flops dramatically down onto his hotel bed. What an exhausting day it has been, taking out random weak curses and talking to people with inflated senses of self importance. The higher-ups were working him hard, sending him all the way out to America for a conference, of all things, when he still had to mentor Itadori on the ways of cursed energy. (Don’t those geezers know I have teaching to do?)

What a strange kid Itadori is. Gojo feels kinda bad about the poor boy eating a finger and suddenly being condemned. But, he would never allow youth to be taken from the young, so he swears to keep Itadori safe, both from the elders and the monster inside him.

Speaking of that monster, Gojo has not missed how little Sukuna seemed to fit the mold of history he left behind in the Heian era. For one, he definitely cares—in the way a curse can, at least—about Itadori, which was a little worrying. Itadori is a bleeding heart, and that trait would be all too easy for Sukuna to take advantage of. (I’m gonna have to talk to him when I get back.)

His line of thought is interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Hm? What’s this about?” he says to himself, looking down at his phone to see a call from… Ijichi? What happened now?

He shrugs to himself before picking up. “Yo, Ijichi, whassup? You miss your favorite Gojo-senpai? You did didn’t you-”

“Not Ijichi. It’s Fushiguro, Ijichi is currently passed out on the ground from cursed energy pressure.” (Ah. That’s not good. I’ve never heard him this panicked.)

His expression freezes. “I see. What happened?”

Still hyperventilating, Megumi answers, “The higher ups assigned us a special grade- ”

“WHAT!?” he exclaims. (I’m really gonna kill them this time.)

“Christ, not so loud, my head already hurts enough as is,” Megumi complains, “Anyway, Sukuna-” (It just keeps getting worse.)

Fidgeting anxiously with his blindfold, he interrupts, “Sukuna? What? Did he get out?”

“Yes, he did, now will you stop interrupting me?” Megumi says, pausing for a second to breathe. “The mission was a farce, and the curse womb was already active. This was a planned assassination attempt on Itadori. Thankfully, we did all survive it, but not for free. Itadori had to let Sukuna out to save us, and he’s currently in the middle of some ritual.” (Shit, that’s really not good.)

“Alright,” he says with a mirthless chuckle. “Looks like I’m coming home early! See you soon ‘Gumi!”

 “Ugh, I told you to stop calling me that, Gojo.” (He loves me!)

Itadori Yuji awakens on a bed of gold, gentle sunlight pouring through the cloud cover above him. He’s still wearing his uniform, his spiral button still pinned to his hood and shirt. Yet, something is very off. (Wasn’t I just at-) 

“The detention center!” he exclaims, looking around at where he woke up.

He realizes he’s in the palms of an enormous golden Bodhisattva with its hands in its lap. The statue itself is contained in a shrine, each golden pillar engraved with more statues of the Buddha holding his hands in different poses. One is displayed more proudly at the feet of the Bodhisattva, appearing as the Buddha tenting his hands into a shrine with his index and pinky finger curled downwards and pressing up against one another, thumbs laying on top of the index fingers. (A Buddhist shrine? What?)   

Looking around further, he sees red and white flowers all around him, stretching infinitely all around him to the horizon. Occasional rocks protrude from the ground and break up the scenery. There are even a few Sakura trees in full bloom. (Where am I?) 

He traces his eyes back to the unnerving statues in the shrine and realizes something—none of the Buddhas are alike. It’s not just the poses of their hands that change from statue to statue—they all have visibly different body types, hair, and clothes. Each statue also has varying levels of tarnish to its golden surface, ranging from completely spotless, like the one at the feet of the Bodhisattva, to chipped and grimy, like one that has three eyes and a fiery facemask. (This is totally surreal. What is this place?)

He startles as he hears a voice from somewhere above the clouds. 

“Empower, Temperance, In my arms.” (Sukuna? What is he doing!?)

He looks to the sky as the clouds start to clear. (I have to get back to my body!)

Two fingers drag across his face, across the bridge of his nose and above his eyebrows. “Technique Reversal: Engrave.” He feels an arm wrap around his waist. His vision goes white.

As control of his body returns, he hears a voice whisper in his ear. “These gifts are for you, child." (Huh?)

“-tadori ITADORI!” Megumi’s standing over him, shaking him by the shoulders. “Wake up, you’re bleeding! Are you ok? Did Sukuna do this?” 

He sits up quickly, almost falling over again as he realizes how dizzy he is from the blood loss. “Fushiguro! I feel…” (How do I feel?) 

He feels… different- more aware of his body, his blood. An instinct ingrained deep into him tells him to curl his cursed energy just so and-

His blood starts floating. Floating back into his face, into two new scars, one across the bridge of his nose, the other above his eyebrows. (What? Is this the gift he was talking about?)

“Itadori?” Kugisaki asks suspiciously. “What was that?” 

His mouth feels dry. “I think it was a gift.”

“From Sukuna?” Fushiguro guesses, concern in his voice.

“Yeah,” he responds before realizing that Fushiguro is right on top of him, causing him to quickly scramble away. “I think I can feel my blood moving around.” (God, that feels weird.)

“What is Potato Head saying, Fushiguro?” asks his other classmate.

The black-haired sorcerer responds, “I have no idea.”

“Ugh, where’s Gojo-sensei when you need him?” Kugisaki complains. “You did call him, right? While Potato Head was being possessed by Sukuna?” Fushiguro nods.

Yuji scratches the back of his head, looking guilty. “Sorry for taking so long.” 

“Shockingly, that stupid idea of yours didn’t go as terribly as it could have. No one died despite you letting Sukuna out,” his black-haired classmate assures.

“Speaking of that, Urchin Hair,” Kugisaki drawls, “Are you gonna finally tell us what Sukuna meant by you having to commit suicide to kill the curse?”

“Yeah, you really gotta tell us what the hell he meant by that, Fushiguro.”

Chapter Text

“Those worms!” she exclaims angrily as she returns to her innate domain, marching up to the Buddha Amitabha and settling in its lap. She mirrors its pose to calm herself, the clouds in the skies of her world growing thicker by the moment as the mental barrier is fully drawn. 

“How dare those rats! Wielding my own power against me, attempting to assassinate my child and his friends, and having the audacity to do it under the nose of the children’s sensei!” (None of them shall ever be forgiven for this. When I escape the confines of this body, they will be the first to die by my hand.)

Escape. Originally, she did not think to do such a thing. (After all, what could ensure my child’s safety better than to have my gift forever connected to his soul?)

This, however, is proving to be an unsustainable practice. After today, she has realized that too many are willing to hurt her child to get to her, and a life of checking for knives looking to bury themselves in her child's back is no way for her son to live. (He will never truly be safe until I find a way out.)

Truthfully, leaving her child’s body would not be a difficult affair, as she has already identified another who is capable of hosting her, and she will surely  find more as time goes on. Yuji himself would not be a barrier either. Even this early into her parenthood of him, she can tell that earning his trust is not a difficult thing to do. From there it would be trivial to get Yuji to let her out for a moment, even for just ten seconds. That would be more than enough time for her to worm her way into a new body and snap her jaws over its original owner’s soul. (But even if I were to do that, I would run into a much more serious issue.)

Yuji would hate her for taking those actions, and she would hate herself for making her child suffer. Such a route would only drive them apart, to say nothing of the reactions of the other sorcerers that surround them. (I would—and perhaps will—burn the world to the ground for Yuji, but if the flame burns him just as much, then what would be the  point of setting it ablaze?)

Anger, jealousy, guilt, pain, love. These are all burdens she carried with her in her old life in Heian-Kyo above the Tomb of the Star, all of them serving her rise to power in her otherwise purposeless life. (Strength for the sake of power, power for the sake of control, control for the sake of oppression, oppression to ensure one's own strength.)

That was the mantra of her old life, followed and shared by all those with the means to seize power, throwing away all that made them human for absolute strength. “But I don’t need any more power.” (I need something new, something I was never allowed to have in those times.)

The world has changed much since her days of sowing carnage across the lands, and that philosophy that drove her, among others, to become the strongest now has no purpose. (Cursed energy has lost the cutting edge it had in those times. This nightmarish power has been blunted. Sharpening a bludgeon does not serve its growth as a weapon—it merely changes it into a crueler instrument of violence.)

She flares her cursed energy, feeling it wrap around her body, flooding her with familiar strength. (Even my knives have lost their edges in these times. No longer does my energy lacerate everything around me, biting at my flesh like a wild beast. Now, my energy crushes me, pushing against me, threatening to destroy me if I do not smash everything around me to dust. No less violent, no less powerful, simply a different kind of weapon.)

“But is it really my cursed energy?” she muses to herself, casting her mind back to those times.

“On the contrary, -------, it is you who have been my parasite all this time.”

She watches her hand burn with a blood-red fire, inspecting her claws with an almost innocent curiosity. “After all, I’ve only ever been fuel for a fire. All that’s changed is whose soul’s blaze I’m feeding. First it was his , then theirs, then mine, and now, my son’s fire is the one that burns thanks to me.” (Such is my nature as a gift, I suppose. Always suited to fit whoever owns me at the time. No matter. My mission does not change.)

She rises to her feet, calmed from her anger. “I don’t need to sharpen myself with rage over my circumstances anymore, for my bladed edges have no purpose in this age.” (My knives are better suited to protect, to fight off the beasts that come my son’s way.)

The pressure of her cursed energy washes over her innate domain, the flowers waving wildly, the trees swaying, the clouds hanging lower, heavy with rain. “I don’t need to burn with jealousy over those who have what I do not.” (My fires are best used to warm those I do have, and to ward off those who wish to harm those closest to me.)

The golden statues around her melt and reform, rearranging themselves into a newer, more efficient lattice of power. “I don’t need to endlessly repent over old guilts for transgressions long since past.” (Those who deserve my punishment are all long gone, and all that’s left are the hateful few who made it this far on spite alone. My words are better used to comfort than to sting.)

The skies of her domain clear as a peaceful calm falls over her, the sun growing brighter as the storm of her cursed energy passes. “I won’t revel in my pain again.” (A scarred shoulder is not one Yuji should have to lean on.)

“I’m going to give him the love he deserves,” she resolves, a steely, serious look on her face. “This world has left him behind, taken all he had away from him and doomed him to die. I refuse to leave him alone. I refuse to allow this world to steal what is rightfully his, and I refuse to let him die.” (I’ve always been a gift, passed around like an object.)

She takes a deep breath, closing her four eyes on her old world. “But this time, I will be the one giving.” (Not out of greed, not out of obligation, not out of lack of purpose.)

“If a gift is all I can ever be, then I will give out of humanity, out of concern, and out of love.”

Gojo sees how it is with these stupid elders, sending him away from his students just to create an opportunity to kill them. He didn’t think they were capable of stooping any lower, but clearly he misjudged just how much of a death wish these wrinkly old men have. (Shame I can’t fulfill their wishes for the time being.)

“Gojo Satoru! What is the meaning of this!?”

Gojo loves his students. How can he not? They’re some of the best he’s seen. Itadori and Fushiguro already have the potential to be on par with Hakari and Okkotsu, and although Kugisaki doesn’t seem to have thee sheer strength the other two do, Gojo’s sure he’s just missing something obvious that puts her right next to the other two in terms of potential. (At the very least, Sukuna seems to think that she could be extremely strong, and regardless of my opinion on him, he’s definitely very good at Jujutsu.)

“You were dispatched to America for the week to discuss an exchange with the Numbers, and you chose to directly disobey orders and return here!? Shameful!” (It’s funny they think their reputation can still be salvaged with the Numbers. Six and Eight have hated their guts for years now, to say nothing of Nine and Seven.)

Gojo loves his students, even when they’re not his anymore. Even though the second years aren't technically his responsibility, he still loves them to bits, and he knows they’re all gonna grow up to become fantastic sorcerers. Sure, Maki’s hit a bit of a wall as of late, and Panda’s been struggling a little with pushing himself ever since the parade, but Yuta and Toge have both been doing really well for themselves. All in all, the class is still doing really well, even when not under his expert tutelage.

“Explain yourself!” “You’re out of line, Gojo!” “You’ll see serious consequences for your insubordination!”

Gojo loves his students, even those whom the school has left behind. Kirara and Hakari are both excellent sorcerers, regardless of what those stinky elders think of them. “Well, I would have humored your petty games and helped you pretend the Numbers still like you a little longer, buuut…”

Gojo loves his students. He always has, and he always will, because that's what being a good teacher means. He feels a distant sting of pain in his hands as his nails break skin. “I really don’t appreciate you wrinkly old men trying to execute Itadori behind my back.” (Cowards, every single one of them.)

The entire room freezes. 

“Ah, I see you didn’t get the report yet. Well, since I’m such a nice person , I’ll summarize for you,” he says in a goofy, almost jovial tone. “Luckily for all of your pathetic little lives, none of my students died, and we even tore one of Sukuna’s fingers out of the curse’s chest cavity.”

One of the old windbags has the audacity to interrupt. “Wh-what are you implying here, Gojo?”

“Quiet when I’m talking, geezers, if you value your heads,” he says casually. “Anyway, you all should be really happy Yuji has such a good handle on Sukuna, and that Yuji was able to use the King of Curses’s power to kill the special grade.” (Something’s very off about Sukuna, but at least it makes the cover story easier.)

“By the way, did you all know he has a technique?” Gojo continues, “Yuji’s a blood manipulator with quite a bit of talent. I wonder how that slipped under the radar. Maybe you Kamo bastards should be checking your ranks to figure out who suppressed the information about Yuji holding your most exalted technique.” He enjoys the look of shock that crosses the higher-ups’ faces for a moment, reveling in the suspicious eyes the Kamo elders cast to the Zen’in.

“Now, now, you all can yell at each other after I’m gone, but before that, I’m gonna give you all the warning you don’t deserve.” He pulls down his blindfold with one hand, glaring at all the cowards hiding behind their stupid screens. 

He lets go of the vice grip he keeps on infinity, letting the pressure of his boundless cursed energy crush the elders against the ground. “Let me make this perfectly clear; you are all only alive right now by my mercy. These past couple of years, you’ve been getting our dynamic all wrong. I am lowering myself to your level and allowing you to order me around, because I care about this world and the people in it, and you happen to be a convenient avenue to help people. If I wanted to, I could live like a calamity, killing at my own convenience to get my way, and there wouldn’t be a thing anyone could do to stop me.” (Oh, I think I heard a few ribs crack. I wonder if I can take out an arm or two by the time I'm done.)

“I’m more than willing to keep this game of ours going for a few more years,” he continues, upping his output. “I’ll allow you to keep ordering me around like a dog until I’m ready to replace you all, but if I catch wind of you trying to kill any of my students ever again, then the death Sukuna would give you if he gets let out would feel like a fucking back massage compared to what I’ll do to you.” (That should get my point across. God, I want to kill something.)

When the three of them return to Jujutsu High, it’s already late in the afternoon, and the second years are sparring in the courtyard. Distantly, Yuji feels Sukuna look on with more interest. (He’s been quiet the entire car ride back from the detention center.)

A… bipedal panda(?) stops sparring with a high-collared boy with silver hair as they approach. “Oh, hey, Fushiguro, Kugisaki, new kid, you’re all back.”

“Hey, Panda,” his black-haired classmate responds. (The panda’s name is Panda? Who came up with that?)

A green haired girl comments, “Woah, what happened to you three? Your uniforms are totally wrecked.”

“Special grade…” the three first years groan in unison.

The girl frowns. “Special grade? I thought Gojo was away for the week.”

The panda named Panda corrects her, “Nah, apparently some mission went south earlier this week and he came back.”

Fushiguro corrects them, “Special grade cursed spirit, not special grade sorcerer, Maki.” Yuji feels a foreign flood of joy from Sukuna as soon as the sorcerer’s name is mentioned. (What was that about?)

“Wait, the three of you were sent on this mission?” Maki asked in disbelief.

“Ikura?” the silver-haired sorcerer says inquisitively.

Before Yuji can ask what rice balls have to do with the conversation, Panda speaks up. “Since two of you don’t know Inumakese yet, I’ll translate for you!” offers Panda cheerfully before deadpanning, “How’d you manage to avoid getting ripped in half?”

Both of Yuji’s classmates point directly at him, putting him on the spot. “Hey wait a minute, it wasn’t all me! It was…” Kugisaki elbows him sharply in the side, causing him to grunt in pain and surprise.

“Yuji! We’re gonna need a cover story for you surviving, so we’ll go with you were able to successfully control and harness Sukuna’s power, since it would be really inconvenient if the elders thought you didn’t have Sukuna under lock, even if you do.”

Ignoring the glare from Fushiguro, he corrects himself. “Ok, yeah, yeah I exorcized the special grade.”

Maki looks him up and down with her arms crossed. “I don’t buy it,” she says simply. (How the hell do I respond to that?)

Apparently, he said that internally, since Sukuna answers in his head, inadvertently causing him to flinch. “Do not allow such disrespect, child. Challenge her to a duel.”

The girl cocks her head to the side, letting out a questioning hum. 

“Oh, sorry that was Sukuna,” Yuji said casually, “He was telling me to fight you.”

The sorceress lets out a laugh as a grin spreads across her face. “I didn’t know Sukuna had such good ideas! Hand to hand?” Every other student flinches simultaneously at her challenge.

Putting on a cocky grin of his own, he responds, “Y’know what? Sure,” as he brings his hands up in front of him, settling into a boxing stance. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Maki comments before lunging at him.

His first thoughts go along the lines of ‘ why is she so fast’ and ‘ damn, she hits hard.’ He barely manages to react fast enough to block her initial volley of blows. (Is that what cursed energy does to your body?)

However, before the spar is allowed to continue–and before he loses miserably–a deep voice speaks from a new mouth formed on his neck. “It brings me joy knowing that such a powerful pact is still being passed down to this day.” 

The entire field freezes at Sukuna’s presence, the second years clearly more worried due to having not seen the King of Curses manifest on Yuji’s body. “Wait, Sukuna, you know what my restriction is?” Maki asks somewhat hesitantly.

The mouth on Yuji’s neck scoffs indignantly. “Restriction? Why on earth would Pure Humanity be considered a restriction by any measure? It is to the Heavenly Pact what 10 Shadows is to Fujiwara techniques.”

“What’s a Heavenly Pact?” asks Yuji innocently.

Maki opens her mouth to answer, but Sukuna speaks first, “It’s a nonconsensual vow forged at the moment of impregnation between parent and child. Like any other kind of vow, it sacrifices one thing for another, though a Heavenly Pact is significantly more powerful and unique than any vow one could forge with oneself.” 

The students settle after realizing that Sukuna is still very much trapped in his body. “You said my res-Pact is on par with the 10 Shadows?” Maki asks. 

Sukuna smirked. “On par? You underestimate yourself. If you were to complete your end of the deal and rid yourself of all cursed energy, your pact would place you among the strongest of all sorcerers.” 

Yuji blinks owlishly. “Wait, really? Maki’s that strong?”

Sukuna replies, “Not right now, but that’s not the point. She could be, and it’s laughable that the sorcerers of today believe that Pure Humanity is a restriction.”

Inumaki says in a questioning tone, “Konbu? Tsunamayo shake?” quickly followed up by Panda translating the ingredients to, “Toge wants to know how Sukuna knows that.”

The boy affirms, “Shake.” (How does the panda understand him?)

Maki’s eyes light up in a moment of understanding. “You knew someone with my Pact during the Heian era.” It’s less of a question and more of a statement.

Sukuna confirms, “You’re right, I did. Of the four children of Fujiwara no Tokihisa, it was her who impressed me most. She alone managed to stand against me longer than the entire Sun, Moon and Stars squad could, and did it all without a drop of cursed energy.” 

“Wow~” Gojo comments mischievously as he suddenly appears, already leaning on Yuji’s shoulder and almost causing him to fall over before catching him with Limitless. “Pretty impressive for someone with no cursed energy to pull off. How’d she manage?” (Am I reading this wrong or was there anger in his voice when Gojo-sensei said that?)

“She impaled me on Hiten’s blazing point, wielding my cleaves against me, turned Kamutoke’s thunder back on me, using it better than all—save for myself—were ever able to, and very nearly managed to kill me,” Sukuna responds way too happily for talking about being impaled. “I’m forever thankful for learning reverse cursed technique by the time of our final confrontation, or that battle would likely have not gone in my favor.” His words stun Maki, whose eyes stare off into the distance.

“Uhh, Sukuna?” Yuji asks hesitantly. “Why do you seem happy about getting stabbed?”

“It’s a lot more fun than you’d think it is,” Gojo says, laughing maniacally. (What is wrong with my teacher?)

Fushiguro groans at their sensei’s antics. “Why are you here, Gojo?”

“To pick up Itadori for some special training, since he’s starting late. But hearing about how Sukuna almost died is way more important,” he replies cheerfully.

“Looking to test your luck, Six Eyes?” Sukuna taunts. “I’ll warn you, the last wielder of your techniques didn’t last too long against me.”

“GUYS!” Yuji shouts, eager to break up the two sorcerer’s verbal sparring. “Can we like, not?”

“Very well.” 

“Ugh, fine.”

“How have I never heard of her?” Maki mutters, frowning slightly.

“There are many reasons, none of them good,” Sukuna responds, clearly irritated. “The most likely reason is the men of the Fujiwara scrubbing the name of their strongest member from history for the sake of petty pride. At least fate found a way for a worthy woman to inherit it in this age.”

Maki flushes slightly at the compliment. “A-are you talking about me!?”

“Is there another with Pure Humanity that I do not know about?” Sukuna challenges, causing Gojo to subtly flinch. “Of course I’m talking about you. Your namesake had her reputation robbed from her, and I don’t want to see you meet the same fate. I refuse to see your achievements parasitized by some useless man with an ego too large for his cursed energy.” (That sounded oddly personal.)

Gojo does a round of applause and mimes wiping a tear off his blindfold. “Bravo, I say! Maki, you and the rest of the second years go help your new kohais work on Sukuna’s weirdly phrased demand to get stronger while I tutor Itadori.”

“Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Sounds good, I guess.”

“Shake.”

“Yo, you ready to go?” Gojo asks, holding out his hand out to him.

“Yes, Gojo-sensei!” he says, mock saluting with one hand and grabbing onto his teacher with the other as space folds around them.

Chapter Text

Not even a moment later, she finds herself in some kind of underground facility. (Gojo’s instant teleportation is quite disorienting.)

“Welcome, student! This is your state of the art training facility, at least until I can vet some fieldwork for you.” Gojo says, gesturing broadly around the room.

Her vessel does not look impressed, “Gojo-sensei… this is just a basement.” 

“A basement you’ll be training in,” the teacher corrects without missing a beat. “Since you have to get into shape quickly, we’re gonna have to use a more… rigorous training method.” (I’m curious to see how the methods for training one’s cursed energy have changed since my death.)

Her vessel visibly tenses in excitement, rocking slightly on his heels.

“Movies!” his teacher exclaims, fanning out a spread of movies in both of his hands. (Where was he even hiding those?)

“Uh, what?” Yuji says, clearly confused. “How are movies supposed to help me get stronger?” (I admit, I am curious too.)

“Because you’re not just gonna be watching movies, Itadori,” he replies, setting some of the movies down and grabbing a doll imbued with some kind of technique. “You’re gonna be doing it with this little guy, one of Principal Yaga’s cursed corpse dolls. It’s programmed to demand a certain amount of cursed energy being funneled into it, and if you ever fail to meet that demand…”

He tosses the doll at her vessel, which promptly wakes up and punches Yuji in the face. 

“Ow, what the hell, Gojo!?” Yuji says, holding the doll at arm's length as it flails wildly. (Interesting. I see its merit, but how will he train his technique?)

“Fun, isn’t it?” Gojo says with amusement. “Anyway, that’s not all, either. Since you happen to have an innate technique, courtesy of Sukuna, you’re gonna need to train that too. I’ll admit I’m not the most well versed in blood manipulation, so I don't really have a great idea on how to help you there.” (I can most likely help with his training of blood manipulation.)

“Perhaps I might be of assistance,” she says, appearing on her vessel’s neck once again.

Gojo freezes for a beat. “Oh? How helpful of you. I didn't realize you were so caring.” he says sarcastically.

Groaning, she replies, “Cease your meaningless teasing, Six Eyes. I want to see my vessel grow as much as you do.” 

The sorcerer raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Sukuna-sensei, what do you suggest my student should do to train blood manipulation?” (I suppose being the strongest of your era exempts you from all societal norms of politeness.)

She answers, “In my time, the Abe trained blood manipulation by opening wounds on both legs, and circulating blood externally between the two cuts.”

Gojo hums in acknowledgement. “But that won’t be very helpful until Yuji here can control his surprisingly plentiful cursed energy, so we’re gonna have to do that first.”

“And I do that with the stupid punch doll?” the child questions, clearly annoyed at getting hit by yet another doll.

“Correct, child, though I will be assisting in your learning of cursed energy however I can,” she offers. (I already infused some amount of muscle memory with blood manipulation when I engraved him with the technique.)

“Man, you’re nothing like how the records say you are,” Gojo remarks with muted surprise.

“Wait, how’s Sukuna supposed to be acting?” Yuji asks, throwing the doll across the room where it drops lifelessly to the ground after hitting the wall. (Good question.)

“I, too, am curious to hear about how history remembers me,” she inquires, directing the tiny amount of her accessible cursed energy to shut down the bear. 

“According to the books, Ryomen Sukuna was a four-armed, four-eyed, two-faced imaginary demon who brought the golden age of sorcery to its knees.” Gojo replies dramatically. “To be honest, not much is really known about you other than your title, technique, and the dozens of people recorded as ‘devoured by Ryomen Sukuna’ in the records of dead sorcerers.” (They got the description correct, at least.)

“Devoured!?” her vessel exclaims in disgust, before internally hissing, “What the hell, Sukuna!?”  

“You think I actually had a choice in those cruel times, Yuji?” she retorts, ignoring the stab of guilt from that half-truth. 

Her vessel doesn’t respond, but she feels his foreign shame rush through her mind. She feels even worse for lying. (Dammit, child, you’re truly too kind for your own good.)

Gojo confirms, “Yeah, most of the records about Sukuna are conflicting, but the two most agreed upon facts are his cutting technique and cannibalistic tendencies.” (Hm. Shrine isn’t my technique. It seems my actual power has been lost to history.)

The teacher continues with a grim smirk, “Clearly, those technique records need to be updated though, huh?”

Her child looks queasy, but asks, “So what do I have to do?”

“Your first assignment is to watch a movie all the way through without waking the cursed corpse,” the man explains. “This will teach you to keep a constant output of cursed energy. Once you have that, we can start working on your Blood Manipulation.”

“Yes, sensei!”

She decides to allow her child space to focus, and sinks back into the depths of her domain.

Yuji is confused. Not about cursed energy, thankfully. Learning the ropes of cursed energy has been incredibly easy with Gojo-sensei’s weird doll and Sukuna’s constant direction. He’s gotten a handle on cursed energy production and control within the first hour. He’s forced his teacher to turn up the amount of energy the doll needed at least five times at this point. (Gotta say, I like the ‘sit around and watch movies’ training.)

What Yuji is confused about, however, is almost everything else about sorcery. Throughout the past week, Gojo has hurried him around between important-looking traditional buildings to talk to the old men who ran the world, with his only real direction being ‘answer no questions and talk to no one’.

Gojo is also terrible at explaining why he has to do this to him, forcing him to rely on Sukuna’s better explanations of the politics of sorcerer society.

“Hey, Sukuna, why has Gojo been taking me to all these meetings recently?”

“It has to do with your technique. Blood manipulation is coveted by the descendants of Abe. And for good reason, considering the technique’s history.”

“Huh? What’s the deal with blood manipulation, then?”

Sukuna explains, “It acts as a political shield against the higher-ups. I cannot claim to know everything about modern jujutsu society’s political structure, but with how entrenched in tradition it is, being a blood manipulator essentially guarantees that you are significantly more difficult for the higher-ups to execute.”

He continues, “Blood manipulation was the technique that dealt the final blow against me during the Heian era. That, of course, means very little to most people. but the Kamo clan may interpret your possession of this technique as you being ‘prophesied’ to destroy me. As of now, you are simultaneously considered too dangerous to keep alive and too important to kill, which will slow the hands of your executioners. It’s unlikely to rescind the execution order placed upon you, but at the very least, you likely won’t have to worry about something like the detention center happening again.”

He’s thankful he has Gojo-sensei to help sort out his apparently precarious political position. And, disturbingly, he’s also thankful he has Sukuna to help him.

Sukuna, unfortunately, is also the most confusing part of this new world. For a supposed calamity of epic proportions that needs to be stopped at all costs, he’s shockingly… nice. He’s not just nice either—he’s outright kind! He gave his condolences for the death of his grandpa, protected him and his friends at the detention center, and is now personally tutoring him. Sure, he’s abrasive, defensive, and short-tempered, but he definitely doesn't feel like the King of Curses. 

Even after Sukuna confirmed that he was, or maybe is, a cannibal, he still can’t find it in himself to be disgusted at Sukuna specifically, just at cannibalism as a concept. (Besides, aren't I technically a cannibal? I did eat three of Sukuna’s fingers at this point)

Speaking of those disgusting things, he asks, “Hey Sukuna? What even are your fingers?” (This movie is kinda boring.) 

The curse answers simply. “They’re poisons.” (How often is he listening in?)

“Huh? But Fushiguro said you’d eat one to gain stronger cursed energy,” he questions, slightly puzzled.

“Wrath can make one powerful, yet it’s no less cancerous to the spirit,” Sukuna responds.

He frowns, but before he can ask anything else, Gojo’s presence suddenly floods the room. “Yuji! Your sensei has an exclusive lesson for you!”

“I did not agree to this,” a disgruntled-looking Fushiguro grouses.

“Oh, don’t be like that Megumi!” The teacher sing-songs cheerfully. “We’re gonna learn about Domain Expansion, the pinnacle of jujutsu battles!” (Domain Expansion?)

“This early?” Sukuna remarks internally.

“Sounds good, Gojo-sensei!” Yuji says with a smile, grabbing onto his teacher before he warps away.

“Woah,” he says aloud as space unfolds over a lake. “Where are we? Are we floating on the water?”

“It’s Infinity,” Sukuna supplies helpfully. “ He has an impenetrable barrier around you and the other child.”

“That’s unimportant,” Gojo replies. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind, but I brought my students with me to give them a demonstration.” (Who’s he addressing? Wait a minute, is that a cursed spirit?)

“What’re the kids for? A shield?” A humanoid cursed spirit with pale white skin, blackened teeth, a single red eye and some strange green coat asks. (His head looks like Mount Fuji!)

“No, no, nothing like that,” his sensei says, waving his hand dismissively. “They’re just here to watch! I’m in the middle of teaching them about jujutsu, you see.”

“Gojo, did you seriously bring us here just to watch you kill a cursed spirit?” Fushiguro asks, clearly unimpressed. “Wait, Gojo, is that a special grade!?”

Gojo replies cheerfully, “Yep, it’ll make the perfect example, don’t you think?” (Wow, he’s not taking it seriously at all.)

“Unsurprising,” Sukuna remarks internally. “He’s stronger than this spirit by leagues.” 

“Aren’t you worried about them slowing you down?” the spirit says in disbelief.

“I’m touched you’re so worried about me,” Gojo mocks, “But you really don’t need to you know? After all…”

“...You’re kinda weak.”  

A single moment of stunned silence passes. Then, Sukuna starts to laugh.

Yuji can’t help himself but to laugh with him. Distantly, he thinks the Mount Fuji spirit might be yelling something, and Fushiguro is probably facepalming at their sensei’s antics, but he’s too busy laughing to care. (Oh man, what a wild thing to say to a special grade cursed spirit.)

“I genuinely cannot believe you, Gojo,” his classmate says, thoroughly exasperated with the teacher, even as the cursed spirit literally burns with anger.

“There won’t even be ashes left of you, Gojo Satoru!!” the spirit exclaims angrily, the surface of the lake starting to evaporate under the intense heat of the flames firing out of its head. (Man, that looks really stupid.)

“Lighten up, Megumi,” Gojo reprimands jokingly, “You’re gonna miss the best part if you keep being such a grump.”

The fiery cursed spirit forms a seal with his hands. “Domain Expansion!!” 

In an instant, Yuji finds himself transported from the lake directly into the vaulted core of a volcano, lava flowing rapidly through the various channels gouged into the ground. and The cursed spirit holds the hand seal with a smug grin. “Coffin of the Iron Mountain.”

With scientific professionalism, Sukuna notes, “Daikokuten? Interesting, I wouldn’t think to use such a mudra for this domain.” 

“Now then, students, listen up!” Gojo says, raising a finger and casually blasting away an enormous wave of lava. “This is a Domain Expansion, the pinnacle of jujutsu combat, and the most advanced barrier technique.” (So cool!)

Fushiguro seems decidedly unimpressed with this display, to which Yuji asks, “Eh? Fushiguro? Why do you not seem as excited? We’re in a volcano, isn’t that awesome?”

“I’ve been training with Gojo for several years, Itadori,” his classmate responds. “This isn’t my first time in a domain.” (Wait, how long has Fushiguro known Gojo?)

“Don’t be such a sourpuss, Megumi!” Gojo says, shooting him a grin. “Anyway, while your Domain is active, you gain a boost to all of your stats. Kind of like a buff in video games. Additionally, any attacks made using your technique in a domain are guaranteed to hit their targets!” 

“Man, that’s powerful!” Yuji says, sufficiently amazed. 

He feels a crawling sensation run across his throat as a second mouth sprouts out of it. “Domains may be powerful, but, like any skill in jujutsu, they are not the end-all, be-all. They can be dismantled in a number of ways, especially for a Domain as flawed and unrefined as this one.”

“Ah, Sukuna-sensei, how nice of you to join us,” Gojo remarks, earning an alarmed look from both the spirit and Fushiguro. “As he was saying, domains are pretty strong, but there is counterplay. First, you can use a cursed technique like mine to neutralize the effects of the domain’s sure hit, but that doesn’t work well if your opponent isn’t weak like this molehill.”

“What was that, you disgusting-” the spirit cries out in anger before being interrupted by a blast of blue energy from Gojo that flings it across the volcano. It slams against its wall with a nasty crunch, causing the interior of the volcano to start collapsing. (Damn. I know it’s a cursed spirit, but I feel kinda bad for the thing.)

His teacher continues as if nothing ever happened, blocking a large amount of falling rubble from the collapsing domain. “Second, you can grievously damage the caster of the Domain, or the Domain itself. I don’t recommend this one either, as a sorcerer or spirit that’s empowered by a Domain is usually pretty powerful, which can make destroying it that way tricky.”

“So then how do you deal with Domain Expansions?” Yuji asks curiously, going to grab onto Gojo’s arm, which Fushiguro is already holding onto.

With his remaining free hand, Gojo pulls down his blindfold and meets the cyclops cursed spirit with Six Eyes of his own. “The best way to deal with an opposing Domain is, of course, to lay out your own Domain. This will initiate a Domain clash, in which the more refined of the two will dominate the space.”

“And for a domain that barely qualifies as completed, such as this fire spirit’s…” continues Sukuna.

The sorcerer crosses his fingers, and Yuji hears Sukuna mentally gasp in awe. “Domain Expansion: Infinite Void.” (Holy shit!)

Gojo’s Domain rushes outwards, immediately overtaking the volcano with a scene of the cosmos in all of its breathtaking horror. An endless sea of stars surrounds the five of them in an instant, a massive black hole in its center greedily devouring the endless light that floods every corner of the Domain.

“...there is nothing to be done but lose,” Sukuna finishes, vanishing under Yuji’s skin again.

“This is my Domain, Infinite Void; otherwise known as the inner world of Limitless. My Domain’s sure hit floods the target’s mind with infinite information–with the catch that none of it is complete.” Gojo reveals, teleporting the three of them behind the cursed spirit. “Contact, movement, sight, every action ever taken is repeated endlessly in this abyss. Isn’t it ironic? When given everything, you can’t do anything.” (Gojo-sensei is scary!)

“All that’s left for you to do is die peacefully,” Gojo says calmly, placing a hand on its head.

The sound of the spirit’s head being torn from its shoulders echoes across the Domain.

Somewhere on the edge of Kawasaki city, a man in a priestly robe walks to a meeting with a new associate.

“What an interesting man he is,” it muses to itself as it walks. “His Domain is as magnificent as ever, I see. I’m glad that his death didn’t dull his skills in the slightest.”

A cheerful voice to its right says, “Y’know, Geto, I’m really not sure why we even put that finger there. I know you explained it before, but it really doesn’t make any sense.”

“Heh,” it laughs. “You don’t need to understand it, Mahito. Call it curiosity if it helps you understand, but I promise it was necessary. Though, speaking of curiosity, how is work on your technique going?”

“Hm, I dunno,” the curse replies. “I think I’ve almost got this whole awakening thing down, but all of the humans’ heads exploded after a while, and I think the school is starting to get suspicious. There’s this one kid who’s sturdier than the rest, though. He’s lasted a whole week! I just have a few more things to tweak.”

“That’s great,” it replies, genuinely impressed, “It’s ok if the schools send someone over, frankly, I’d love to find out your technique’s effects on sorcerers. Please, continue your research, and after what Jogo did, there’s no more need for subtlety. Remember though, if Sukuna’s vessel shows up-” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Geto,” he responds, wandering away from it and sprouting wings to start flying away. “I’ll report back to you in a while, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me,” it mutters, walking into its destination, a traditional home on the very edge of Kawasaki. “Hello, Ogami. Thank you for allowing me to set up this meeting.”

The old woman smiles with too much malice for it to be inviting. “Ah, hello, Geto. I’ll admit that I was skeptical when I first heard that you survived the parade.” 

It shoots her a slightly crazed grin. “I can’t say I blame you. What I went through wasn’t exactly… survivable to most people.”

The grandmother grins predatorily, “And you’re not most people, I take it?” 

“Haha, I’d certainly like to think I'm exceptional,” it says, withdrawing a green pill and a jitte-shaped knife from the folds of its billowing robes. “Let’s make a deal.” (It still itches.)

Chapter Text

Nobara is doing just fine, thank you very much, and is definitely not salty about Fushiguro and Itadori getting to see Gojo’s domain. Why would she be? It wasn’t like she was getting beat up by a sentient panda in the meantime. (Why couldn’t it have been spars with Maki today? At least then, if I got sent to Shoko it would have been for a good cause! I hate falling practice)

She slumps back on the exceptionally comfortable dorm room couch, groaning at her aching muscles. She pauses the movie she’s watching, some trashy thriller about a group of students trying to avenge a dead mentor. Truth be told, though, her mind was elsewhere, stuck on the thing trapped in her pink-haired classmate’s body.

She doesn’t understand Sukuna, which seems to be a pretty common sentiment among the first and second-year classes. For one, there’s Sukuna’s demeanor, which was brash, abrasive, and aloof. However, she knows that’s not how he really is deep down. He cares about them all far too much. (I know what someone hiding behind their personality looks like.)

That’s another thing. Sukuna is caring, and not in a subtle way either. He actively participates in their sparring sessions, giving critique on their forms with cursed energy and their hand-to-hand skills. (I can tell Fushiguro and Gojo are uncomfortable with Sukuna popping up so much, but I don’t see why they care. He gives good advice, and it actually feels like he’s taught before.)

Though, there’s still something itching at her, a trait of the Curse’s that makes him undeniably dangerous: Sukuna is smart. She knows that feature is the thing making her teacher and classmate anxious. Despite how undeniably helpful he’s been, it’s clear he has some kind of ulterior motive to all of it, and for the life of her, she can’t figure out what it is. (All I know is that I do not want to get caught in the blast radius if Sukuna’s care runs out.)

At least she got to hang out and train with Inumaki, whom she has decided is the second-coolest second-year. Cursed speech is a really nifty technique, as it turns out, with far more applications than just removing the ‘threat’ part of ‘death threat.’ (Being cursed to sleep has done wonders for my insomnia.)

Anyway, apparently her classmates are coming back from their spontaneous Gojo-induced field trip in about an hour, so she’d get to yell at Gojo for not bringing her along, and the boys for leaving her with the second-years.

The telltale woosh of Gojo appearing fills the dorm. When they arrive, Itadori is already in the middle of a sentence singing Gojo’s praises. “-So cool, I mean did you see him? Gojo-sensei totally ripped that dumb curse’s head off! Wasn’t it badass?”

“Itadori,” the other boy says, exasperated. “Did you miss the part where the curse escaped, or were you too busy almost dying to the other special grade to notice that?” (AND Gojo made me miss out on seeing a special grade get beat up!? I’ll never forgive him!)

“Gojo, you ass!” she exclaims, pointing a shaking finger at her sensei. “How dare you not bring me along!”

“Believe me, I tried,” the teacher replies, “But unfortunately, someone cursed you to sleep, and I couldn’t wake you up in time to leave.” (Wait, what?)

Nobara suddenly stands up from the couch, shouting, “CURSE YOU, INUMAKI!” Her classmates flinch.

“Geez, Kugisaki. Chill out,” Itadori says, raising his hands in front of him.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she shouts back.

“Ikura!” a voice exclaims indignantly.

“Yeah, what he said!” Panda affirms. (Dammit, Inumaki, you’ve turned the class against me!)

“Yeah, what they said!” reflects Maki, poking her head out of her dorm. (Maki?)

“Silence, children,” a deep voice growls. “Your inane bickering is insufferable. There are far more important matters at the moment.”

Fushiguro is drawn out of his thoughts by the curse, flinching slightly. “Sukuna?”

The cursed speech user speaks up as well. “Konbu? Tsunamayo shake.”

“He says: ‘Why is he here?’” Panda translates helpfully.

“I am attached to your kohai’s body. I am always here,” the curse deadpans. (Was that sarcasm? From the King of Curses?)

“As Fushiguro mentioned, there were not one, but two special grade curses at your sensei’s impromptu lesson,” he says, sending a venomous glare at Gojo. “Which I am sure he has not forgotten to mention, and was merely waiting for an opportune time to talk about it, Six Eyes.” (Wow. I’m genuinely impressed he has the guts to talk to Gojo like that. Isn’t he supposed to be Sukuna’s executioner?)

Her sensei lets out a squawk of indignation, turning up his nose in offense. “Of course I remembered! I never forget important details, after all!” (If Sukuna could use Potato Head’s arms, he’d be facepalming right now.)

Opening a secondary eye to roll dramatically, the ancient sorcerer continues, “These special grades are problematic for two reasons: one, they are intelligent enough to collaborate with one another and driven enough to have a cause to work towards, and two, all of you are unacceptably weak and incapable of stopping such threats.” (HEY!)

“What the hell!?” Maki rages.

“Mentaiko!” Inumaki demands angrily.

“Sukuna…” Itadori says warningly. (Is he scolding the King of Curses?)

“No, no,” Gojo placates, “Let’s hear him out. Surely he’s got some good advice for the students he just shamelessly insulted, right, Sukuna?”

“Who do you take me for, Six Eyes?” the curse says in exasperation. “It was not my intent to insult your tenacity, children, nor your honor as an instructor, Gojo.” (Was that an apology? I really can't tell with this guy.) 

Sukuna really, really confuses her. He’s a constant juxtaposition of traits and it makes her brain hurt trying to figure out which parts are real. Why is he so condescending in one moment, and so apologetic in the next? Why does he actively assist those who want him dead? Just how much of his act is genuine, and how much is a shroud?

Sukuna starts, “The first issue I have noticed is the tiny slivers of your techniques I see you wield. For instance, Fushiguro wields the 10 Shadows, yet only uses his beasts, a mere fraction of his technique. By doing this, he is limiting himself, purposefully or not.”

“Then what do you want?” Fushiguro snaps. “I can’t just make more shadows, there are only ten!”

“Lies,” Sukuna immediately retorts. “What of your merged beast, the Unknown Abyss? What of the dimension kept entirely within your shadow? Your technique is a bottomless well, child. It is you, and only you, that chooses not to look deeper into it.”

“What about me!” Maki cries indignantly. “I don’t have a technique like the rest of you! How the hell am I supposed to ‘expand my perspective on my cursed technique’ if I don’t even have cursed energy?”

“Woah, chill out, Maki,” Gojo says cheekily, snacking on a box of doughnuts. (Did he seriously teleport away to buy doughnuts during a lesson? What am I even saying? Of course he did!)

“You’re thinking is just as rigid, foolish child,” Sukuna retorts dryly. “You’ve blinded yourself with insecurity. You wish to escape the shadow of the Zen'in, yes? Then why limit yourself by thinking only in their terms, when they so clearly do not know what they are talking about? Perhaps by thinking of what you have in excess, rather than what you lack will assist you in your lofty dreams.”

“Then what about me?” Nobara hotly demands.

Sukuna answers, “Simply put, I haven’t seen enough of you yet to give you any proper advice. Accompany my vessel on his next mission if you wish for my council.” (Dammit!)

“Not a bad idea, actually,” mentions Gojo, blasting the crumbs away from his face with infinity. “Whaddaya say, Nobara? I have a city mission lined up for just Yuji, but I could get you to come along too!”

She looks at her teacher with a horrified stare. “How quickly do you eat, Gojo-sensei? Was that 6 doughnuts? Ugh, fine, that sounds good. But it better not be like that Roppongi trick you pulled on my first day!”

“Actually,” Panda says, raising his hand, “Speaking of sharing activities, I was wondering if the first years wanted to come along to the exchange event.” (Huh? What’s that?)

“What’s an exchange event?” Itadori wonders aloud.

“It’s a competition between the schools!” answers her teacher cheerfully.

Nobara gasps, “Ooo, is it Pokemon? I rule at VGC 2015!” (I’ve still kept my CHALK team since my attempt at worlds.)

“Why the hell would it be Pokemon?” Fushiguro murmurs to himself before answering, “It’s a Jujutsu battle between the schools. It’s usually a little different each year, but it generally consists of team and individual battles.” (Eh, whatever. More fun than 2014 VGC.)

Maki perks back up at the mention of the exchange event. “Yeah! I didn’t get to have any fun last year, since Okkotsu and Rika destroyed everything, but this year I’m gonna get my chance.”

“Unfortunately,” Gojo begins, “we’re a little short on students, what with our lack of a fourth-year class and our third-years being suspended.”

“But that’s where you come in!” Panda exclaims cheerfully. “You all can make up for our numbers, and you’re all pretty strong too.” (What happened to the fourth-years?)

“That sounds good, to be honest,” replies Itadori. “But what happened to the fourth-years?” (That’s what I want to know!)

“Geto Suguru,” Maki, Fushiguro, and Panda all chorus, causing their teacher to visibly flinch.

“Who’s that?” Nobara asks. 

“Genocidal maniac.”

“Special grade curse user.”

“Mentaiko.”

“He attacked the school last year,” Fushiguro explains. “It was a real shitshow. You don’t need to worry about him anymore. Last I heard, Okkotsu turned him to ash and embers with some help from Rika.” (Man that sucks.)

“Anyway,” Gojo says forcefully, gathering the room’s attention with a clap. “I think the first years hitting the exchange event is a wonderful idea, so I’ll go set that up. Nobara, Yuji, I’ll call you tomorrow for the mission.”

Her teacher blinks away, and the rest of them are left to their own devices. (I can’t wait! Some real fieldwork. Hopefully this one goes a bit better than the detention center.)

“What an enlightening day yesterday was,” she says to herself as she tends to the paradise in her domain, letting her reverse cursed energy wash over the flowers and blossoming sakura trees.

Much was revealed to her yesterday, and all of it needed to be properly accounted for. First of all, the duo of special grade curses that she recognizes. (Hanami and Jogo, as I recall their names were in my time.)

Strangely, they did not seem to recognize her, aside from surface level knowledge of who she is, despite her colorful past with the disaster curses. Jogo in particular not knowing her is equal parts concerning and illuminating, considering the statue of his that rests in her shrine. (My first curse… what a shame he cannot remember me.)

She ignites her hand with roaring red fire, curiously inspecting the flames as they pass between her hands. “They still function all the same, even after his rebirth.” (But what of the last one? If the fire and the wilds have returned, has the sea reincarnated as well? And what will become of the weapons their souls were burned into?)

They all had such magnificent techniques, especially for their time. Manipulation and manifestation type techniques are among the most powerful, and the disaster trio had some of the strongest she has ever seen. (Their return heralds either a return to form or an evolution into something new, and with that brain still in play, it’s impossible to know which.)

Truthfully, she regrets the work she put into the trio of armaments she made from them. Despite their excellent quality, it was far from worth all the effort creating them required. “Perhaps one of them may serve the children as a main armament,” she muses. (I wonder what awaits my child on this new mission.)

“It’s a good thing his classmate decided to come along,” she mutters to herself. “My child should not be lonely in this cruel world.” 

She tunes back into her vessel’s senses just in time to hear a new voice begin explaining his rationale as a sorcerer. (What strange dress he wears, though I suppose the standards of aesthetic must have changed much during my death.)

“I went to your school as well, Itadori, and there I learned that being a sorcerer SUCKS!” (No arguments from me. Our duties are wretched, our ambitions doubly so.)

“Woah…” the students say in unison, as she stifles a laugh.

“Then, I worked in a regular office, and I learned that working for a living SUCKS!” the sorcerer says with absolute confidence. “So, if sorcery and civilian work suck equally, I will choose the one that suits me better. That’s why I came back.” (I like him already.)

“This one is awfully entertaining,” she comments to her child, startling him slightly and causing her to sigh. “You really ought to get used to my appearances, child.”

“Now, students, you should understand that I’m not of the same mindset as Gojo here,” The sorcerer says, crossing his arms. “I do trust him, and I have faith in his abilities, but I will NEVER respect him!”

“What the hell, Nanamin!” Gojo cries, slapping his forehead with the back of his hand in offense.

“Man, he’s intense,” Yuji observes.

She barks out a short laugh, “From my observation, he’s about as insane as any other in our line of work. Just in a different manner.”

“I may hate the way the higher-ups do things, but rules exist for a reason,” the bespectacled man says. “So I can’t accept you as a sorcerer.”

Yuji, Nobara all frown, a sentiment that she shares. (Rightfully suspicious, but stinging with his words. I see.)

“Even if you are just a vessel for the time bomb we know as Sukuna, I hope you can still prove yourself to be useful,” he reasons. 

“Hey, but what about me?” Nobara demands.

Disregarding her vessel’s classmate, he interrupts, “This conversation is dragging on too long. Let’s go.”

“You.” A voice calls out, cold and annoyed. “Tch, I should have known that stupid brain would do something like this to piss me off.”

“Huh? Who are you?” Mahito says, tilting his head and blinking owlishly at his new visitor. “Oh, you’re a curse like me, aren’t you?”

The new curse looks scarily similar to him, to be honest. He’s got a wide, toothy mouth permanently stuck in what’s either a grimace or a grin, filled with uniform, razor sharp shark teeth, pointy ears and pink hair. His skin is pale like human flesh, but it’s way too rough and uneven to be mistaken as human. (Not like me. I’m nothing more or less than a true human.)

‘Uneven’ would actually be a pretty good descriptor of this new curse, what with his mismatched arms, crooked eyes, bony protrusions and the giant burn scar running all the way down his left side. “So what are you made of? I can tell you’re a hatred curse, but I Can’t say there are very many curses that look as human as us. Even Jogo’s still pretty distinctly inhuman.” 

“Ugh,” the curse groans in displeasure, facepalming with his larger hand. “I don’t see why you would care, but for your information, I’m a curse formed from sorcerers’ hatred of other sorcerers.”

“Huh, I thought sorcerers couldn’t create curses,” Mahito muses. “They usually have pretty good handles on their cursed energy, right?”

To his surprise, the sorcerer-curse starts laughing. “Oh, they’d certainly like you to think that,” he says with a wicked grin. (Oh, I get it.)

“It’s your fault that sorcerers don’t create curses, huh?” he says, amused.

The curse hums in affirmation. “Yep. They tend to have a good handle on their cursed energy, but there’s always some leakage.”

Mahito asks, “So, why are you even here? I’m guessing it has to do with Geto?”

The curse looks puzzled for a moment, murmuring, “Geto?” to himself before responding, “Oh, it still hasn’t told you yet? That’s hilarious! Yeah, it sent me here to give you something.” (Huh? What hasn’t Geto told us yet? I know he likes to keep secrets, but this seems different.)

“Oooh!” Mahito exclaims childishly. “I love surprises! Wait, lemme guess, is it a special human for me to experiment on?”

The curse starts cackling, causing him to flinch back at the sudden loud noise. Wiping a bloody tear away from his eyes, the curse answers, “Something like that. Call it an Offering, if you want, it doesn’t matter to me.” (I’m so excited! What could it be!?)

The curse reaches into a pouch attached to his waist, withdrawing a sealed finger and handing it to him. “Sukuna’s finger,” Mahito says, reaching out and grabbing the cursed object.

“Wow, I didn’t think Geto would trust a curse like me with this,” he says with wonder, turning it over in his hands, seeing the talismans sparkle in the sunlight.

“Believe me, it doesn’t,” the curse deadpans, turning to walk away. “No idea why that idiot would trust you of all curses with one of the fingers, but that thing has always had a pension for bad and convoluted ideas.”

“Yo, wait up,” Mahito says, sitting up from his spot on the roof. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Why do you care so much?” the curse grumbles. “It’s Rozetsu.” (Rozetsu, huh?)

“I’m Mahito,” he says with a smile. (I wonder if we’ll see each other again.)

Chapter Text

She is coming to like Nanami the more she sees of him. In many ways, he’s the perfect mentor. Stern, but respectful of his students. (Past that, however, I can see his spirit burning up. Something is eating away at him, slowly but surely.)

His explanation of residuals was comprehensive, but he missed one thing about these residuals in particular; these ones were caused on purpose. (The curse is actively baiting us. It’s not inexperienced. It has clearly thought this out and has a goal of its own.)

His philosophy of using no more effort than necessary is not one she agrees with, but she can see its merit. (He’s clearly very experienced, even for one who left our world behind for a time.)

Her vessel arrives on the roof of the theater, immediately spotting what looks like a cursed spirit. As Yuji and his classmate dash at the spirit, bodies flaring with cursed energy, Nanami throws out an arm. “Stop. I will deal with this one. I’ll leave the other one to you two. If you think you are in trouble, let me know.” 

The doglike spirit rattles out a breath as it circles the suited sorcerer, warbling, “B-bento box!” 

“Oi!” Nobara says, “Don’t treat me like I’m defenseless!” (She still can’t accept help from anyone. How foolish.)

“It’s not about that,” Nanami replies calmly as he readies his cursed cleaver. “You are a child, and I am an adult. Thus, it is my responsibility to protect you.”

The other strange cursed spirit slithers out from its hiding spot, loose flesh trailing behind it. (They’re not spirits, at least not fully. What could they be?)

“I’d rather be underestimated than called a child!” her son cries defiantly, raising his fists. Nobara nods at his statement.

Adjusting his tie with one hand, Nanami focuses on the snarling half-spirit. “Just because you’ve survived death doesn’t make you an adult. Until you have actually had time to grow up, it is the adult’s responsibility to protect you, even in this profession. Especially in this profession.” (Wise words. Those without others to support them end up never growing up at all.)

Blocking a blow from the half spirit, the sorcerer begins to disclose his technique. “My technique forcibly inflicts a weak point on the enemy.” She ignores the stab of greed and hunger that rushes through her at his words. (Ah, a lesson in disclosure, the true core of Jujutsu.)

“Seven to three. If I strike along that ratio, my attack will inflict a critical hit,” he explains, knocking away the spirit with the flat side of his cleaver. (What even is it? It’s been affected by a technique, that much is obvious, but it’s definitely not a spirit. After all, spirits bleed purple, not red.)

She opens the other eye on Yuji’s face, checking that his opponent is affected by the same thing. One of Nobara’s infused nails sinks into the aberration, and red blood explodes from the wound. “Take that!” Nobara yells. (This one too. What’s more, it’s the same technique affecting them.)

Nanami looks up momentarily. “Are you two even listening?”

The two students look up from the battle, chorusing, “Huh?” (I suppose they weren’t.)

Speaking aloud, she chastises, “Students should pay attention to their teachers, especially when they are teaching such an important concept as disclosure.” 

Her child asks, “Is that where he explains what he’s going to do?” as he kicks away the flailing abomination.

“Seems kinda impractical,” Nobara remarks, raising her fingers to snap. 

“There is merit in disclosing one’s technique, whether that be misleading your foe or activating certain effects,” Nanami explains.

She adds on, “Additionally, by revealing your own hand, you strengthen any technique disclosed, and you will gain roughly five percent of your cursed energy back. However, this effect can vary substantially with your maximum capacity and the value of the information disclosed.” (Not many know about the second half of disclosure.)

“Huh,” Nobara says, humming in consideration. “So if I say, ‘I can channel my cursed energy through my nails’ to this ugly freak, my hairpin gets stronger?”

“Correct,” she replies. “Try it out.”

“Hairpin!” Nobara shouts, snapping her fingers as her cursed energy flares. (Though, I don’t think that disclosure is correct.) 

One abomination explodes into gore, as the other one gets diced apart by Nanami. (The bodies aren’t disappearing. That officially confirms they’re not just extremely strange curses.)

“I see the trick now,” she says, finishing her inspection of the mess of vicera Nobara left on the ground. “These things aren’t spirits.” (Quite the technique. By far one of the most lethal I’ve seen wielded by a curse.)

She feels her vessel’s blood run cold. “What?”

“So you did notice,” remarks Nanami, walking over to the duo and holding up his phone to the two of them. “Look.”

It’s a picture of the doglike abomination, with a watch on its wrist. (Oh my, not only are they not spirits…)

“Wait, but spirits don’t appear on cameras!” Nobara exclaims in horror. “That means…”

“...They’re people,” Yuji whispers to himself. “These things are human!” 

“ Were human,” she corrects internally. “Whatever this new spirit did to them, it made absolutely sure to kill as much of the human inside as possible without letting them die fully.”

“That’s horrible!” Nobara shouts in horror. “What kind of technique could have done this!?” (There’s only one real possibility here.)

“A disaster technique,” she answers simply. “Techniques possessed by the highest tier of fear and hatred spirits.” 

Nanami raises an eyebrow at that, looking up from the messages he’s sent to a woman by the name of ‘Ieiri Shoko.’ “I’ve never heard of such a classification before.” (What a shame, it seems my writings have been lost to history. I wonder if Tengen-sama still has a few preserved.)

“It’s merely what I call them,” she says, retreating back under her vessel’s skin. “What else can this curse do, I wonder?” (It certainly can’t hurt to meet whatever curse is responsible.)

What a pain. Nanami sighs tiredly as he settles onto the couch, rubbing his forehead. “Shoko, can you give us any information you learned in the autopsy?” (This curse is looking to be the most troublesome one yet.)

“Yeah, ‘course Nanami,” Shoko replied, voice slightly warped from speaking over the phone. “Your initial assumptions were correct. These curses used to be human, and whatever curse did this to them was the same one that killed the three people at the theater.”

He hears Sukuna’s vessel breathe in sharply across from him, throwing a hand over his mouth. “There’s more, though. The way these people died is really strange, even for a cursed death,” the doctor says, slightly puzzled.

“How so?” Nanami asks in his usual monotone.

“Both victims died from the shock of having their entire bodies instantly and fully transfigured,” Shoko answers. “What’s more, both victims’ brain stems have been edited by the transfiguration to slip them into a trance, for lack of a better word.” (‘Disaster’ certainly seems to be an applicable word to describe whatever monstrosity this curse turns out to be.)

“Transfiguration?” Nobara asks. “So whatever this thing is, it can turn people into curses just by changing them enough?” (Theoretically speaking, such a curse would be able to do nearly anything if it ever landed its technique on you.)

“Seems like it,” the doctor remarks, her tone grim. “And, Itadori, just know that you did not kill these people. The state they were in could barely be called alive, let alone human.”

“We have to destroy it,” Itadori says resolutely, slamming a fist on his leg. “Whatever fate this curse gave these people, it’s far from a proper death.” (He’s too caring for a sorcerer. Other’s deaths causing you pain is an admirable trait, but empathy is lethal in this profession.)

Nobara lets out a “Yeah!” and raises her hammer.

“I’m in agreement as well, but we can’t be hasty,” Nanami halts their excitement, ending the call with Shoko and pulling up a tablet with a map on it. “We don’t have enough data yet. Our windows have been tracking the death-by-disfiguration cases, but we only have a certain area to work with.”

“What’s that mean?” Nobara asks.

“It means you two will be doing something entirely different,” he responds, quickly swiping over to a photo of a young boy with medium length black hair. “You will be tracking down this child, Yoshino Junpei. He's the classmate of the three boys who got murdered at the theater. We have no reason to believe he’s a curse user, but I advise you to be careful regardless.”

“Sounds good,” Itadori says brightly.

“I’ve been told you’ve already met Ijichi, so I won’t bother with introductions, but you’ll be doing this assignment under his supervision rather than mine,” Nanami explains.

He watches the kids eagerly rush out the door of the hotel, badgering Ijichi to start the car faster. He sighs lightly to himself as he retrieves his cleaver. (Time to get to work.)

“Yo, Nanamin, come over here for a second!” (How is he always so cheerful?)

“Yes, Gojo? I thought you said you had somewhere to be,” he says, stopping to glance back at him before he gets to Ijichi’s car.

“You wanna hear a secret?” Gojo asks, waving him over.

“Fine,” he says, wandering back over to his coworker.

Gojo teleports next to him, dramatically cupping a hand over his ear. “Sukuna cares.”

He freezes for a split second before returning to his senses, calling out to his fellow sorcerer. 

“Gojo, expla-” (He’s already gone.)

“Gojo wouldn’t lie about that,” he mutters to himself, adjusting his goggles as he walks out to his own car. (But why would he tell me that?)

He takes a final glance at his watch, noting that the time is 3:30. (This better not take long.)

“I hate overtime.”

Sukuna suddenly speaks up, “Yuji.”

Snapping out of his stupor, he quickly replies, “Huh? What’s happening? I wasn’t sleeping, I promise!”

“I will be honest, this mission is almost certainly not what it seems on the surface,” the curse says gravely. “Even discounting the obviously special grade curse, this entire situation is pungent with the smell of scheming.”

“Special grade!?” he repeats internally, tensing at the memory of the detention center. “Is Nanamin gonna be okay?”

“He’ll likely survive,” Sukuna assures, causing him to relax slightly. “The person who might not be okay is your classmate.”

Confused, he asks, “Kugisaki? What does she have to do with this?”

“Everything and nothing, child,” The king of curses says, pausing for a moment in contemplation before continuing. “You are a magnet for attention and a catalyst for change, perhaps even more so than your sensei. I cannot see the great scheme at play in this mission, but I am certain it wholly revolves around you. By merely being here, your classmate has identified herself as an obstacle, and as leverage against you.” (Kugisaki’s in danger!?)

“Was bringing Kugisaki along a mistake!?” he asks, tapping his finger faster and faster on the armrest of the car to calm himself.

Sukuna replies, “Objectively speaking, yes, but objectivity does not tell the whole story. This mission could be a catalyst for her growth as a sorcerer, both mentally and physically.” (I still don’t like the idea of her being in danger.)

“Do you think Kugisaki is being targeted by the curse?” he asks hesitantly.

“Not specifically, I believe,” Sukuna answers candidly. “That boy, however–Yoshino Junpei, as I remember–definitely is.”

“Is he in danger?” Yuji asks, alarmed.

“Yes,” the curse answers immediately. “But that’s not why I’m worried. This boy has almost certainly encountered the change curse, and disasters like this aren’t known for leaving witnesses. I’m worried that the change curse is using Yoshino as bait for you.”

“Curses are smart enough to do that?” he asks, anxiety spiking. (Most of the ones I’ve fought are pretty dumb. Even that special grade in the detention center seemed pretty childish.)

“This one definitely is,” Sukuna says. “We’ve seen it use similar lure tactics in the past, and it’s cruel enough to use unrelated humans for its own ends.” 

“Then what do we do?” he asks, panicking. (I don’t want Kugisaki to get hurt!)

“In my opinion, you should not go to meet Yoshino Junpei,” the curse says, interrupting him just as he starts to protest. “Let me explain, child. Yoshino is a trap that must be sprung intentionally. Whoever is manipulating him, whether that be the change curse, a curse user, or the higher-ups, the most likely target of this trap is you, Yuji.” (Dammit, I really don’t like where this is going.)

Continuing, Sukuna says, “Your classmate holds no intrinsic value to any of these parties without your presence, child. I would highly suggest you wait until Nanami has returned from his investigation to meet Yoshino for the first time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies, letting his thoughts wander.

Calling for his attention, Sukuna mentions, “One more thing, child. Do not tell Ijichi about any of this. There’s no way to guarantee he’s not a spy for the higher-ups, even if Nanami and Gojo trust him.” 

(Why does my life have to be so complicated?)

Chapter Text

As soon as they exit the car and Ijichi pulls away, Sukuna suddenly speaks up. “Kugisaki, you will be meeting Yoshino on your own.” (Wait, what?)

“Haah?” she questions. “Why? I thought you were supposed to be watching me and giving me advice! You can’t just go back on your word!”

“Can’t I?” The mouth on Itadori’s neck twists into a sneer, taunting her. “If you want a sorcerer to do something, make sure it’s in a binding vow.” (How dare he!)

Itadori scolds, “Sukuna, stop messing with her.” (I will never get used to potato head scolding the king of goddamn curses.)

“Very well,” the curse says arrogantly. “I will be honest with you. Yoshino Junpei is bait for a trap laid by the change curse.”

“Are you sending me to my death, then?” Nobara questions angrily.

“Don’t worry, Kugisaki, the trap is only supposed to kill me!” her pink-haired classmate says cheerfully.

“That’s… not what I said, child, but I don’t care to explain it again,” Sukuna murmurs in exasperation. “You will meet with Yoshino. As I mentioned, he is bait, laid by the change curse, targeting the two of us—thus, you will be safe. If he shows any sign of knowing about sorcery or curses, keep close to him. Once Nanami returns from his section of the mission, Yuji and I will join you.”

“I can fight!” Nobara retorts, offended at being babied. 

“When did I say you couldn’t?” the curse points out dryly. “This is for the safety of both you and the objective. You’ll get your advice from me once this is over.”

“And If you’re wrong?” she tests.

“Kugisaki…” her classmate says sheepishly.

The curse scoffs. “I don’t make mistakes, child. Now hurry along and don’t risk the mission.”

Nobara huffs angrily, crossing her arms. “Don’t order me around.”

“This is for all of our safety, Kugisaki,” Sukuna points out. “Don’t play the hero. Ambition is only powerful to a certain point. Now go.”

“Just do it, Nobara,” Itadori begs, clasping his hands.

Honestly, Nobara can’t believe Sukuna’s audacity. Who does he think he is, ordering her around and plotting like some shitty mastermind in a spy movie?

Seeing the boy–Yoshino she recalls, starts to form a seal as cursed energy wells up around him, she hurries her pace, enhancing herself with just a touch of her own cursed energy before grabbing his arm and snapping his concentration. “Yo, what the fuck were you even thinking, flaking on me?” (Time to improvise.)

“H-huh?” Yoshino flounders, expression going from furious to confused in a flash. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, you’d better be,” she huffs, turning up her nose and pointedly ignoring his teacher stumbling over his own words. “C’mon,” she gestures to Ijichi’s car. “Get in, loser, we’re going shopping.”

As soon as they lose the teacher, she immediately rounds on Yoshino and slaps him across the face. “Mind telling me what the fuck you were thinking, invoking a cursed technique on some random normie?” she asks, annoyance apparent in her voice.

The boy’s eyes go wide, like a kid caught stealing candy. “Uhm,” he stammers, looking around wildly.

“Don’t bother answering that,” Nobara says, shaking her head sadly. “I don’t actually care.”

“Then why’d you even ask?” Yoshino demands, annoyance replacing his guilt in an instant.

Nobara shrugs. “Wanted to check how new you are to sorcery.”

The boy narrows his eyes. “How’d you know I’m new? Have you been stalking me?” (He thinks he’s worth my time to stalk?)

Nobara levels a flat look at him. “You almost attempted murder with your technique, in broad daylight, in front of a witness.”

The black-haired kid flinches hard . 

She snorts. “Yeah, that’s about what I thought.”

The boy looks shocked. “Why’d you stop me, then?”

“Look, we’re both young,” she answers.

Yoshino frowns slightly. “That still doesn’t explain it.”

“You still have a future, dumbass, we both do,” she says with a hefty sigh. “Life’s fucked you up. Believe me, I can tell. But right now you have two modes—‘bottle it up’ and ‘attempt murder,’ neither of which you should be doing.”

The boy just stands there, slightly stunned, so Nobara decides to fill the silence. “Anyway, I wasn’t lying when I said we were going shopping. I need to buy new beauty products and get some more snacks, and my idiot sensei gave me one of his cards. Do you need anything?”

The kid blusters for a moment, stuttering out, “U-uh, yeah, sure.”

“Right then,” she says, grabbing his wrist as she ushers him down a busy shopping street. “Point out anything you want, sensei’s egregiously rich.”

In another part of the city, a pink-haired boy crushes a toothed book curse between his hands in the middle of an abandoned library.

“You’re improving,” Sukuna commends him from within. “Your application may be amateurish, slapdash, and taking far too many shortcuts to be useful against powerful opponents, but you show control and comprehension I genuinely do not expect from such a novice.”

“Thanks, I think,” he replies blandly, recalling the blood he spent slaying the various low-ranked curses all around him. Sukuna approved of him using his time away from Kugisaki to hunt down curses to his heart’s content in order to improve his blood manipulation and cursed energy control. “Though, I have to ask, why’d you even give me this technique? That is a thing you can do, right?”

“It is,” the curse confirms. “I granted you blood manipulation due to its utility, and how shockingly compatible the technique is with your unique physiology.” (Glad I at least got some confirmation about what his technique even is.)

“Unique?” he asks, darting off into another abandoned building. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The King of Curses goes silent for a moment in what Yuji thinks is deliberation, before replying, “There’s something distinctly off about your body, child. This is to be expected, given that the consumption of my gifts is bound to mutate whoever devours them, but the very base of your body is wrong. It reminds me of my original vessel, of all things.” (The hell does that mean for my parentage, then?)

Yuji’s not stupid. He knows there’s almost certainly more to that story, but he chooses not to press as he rounds the corner into a dilapidated hallway, coming face to face with another curse. “Man, you are ugly,” he quips, sizing up the almost-humanoid wasp curse, before igniting his fists with cursed energy.

“Insufficient.” Sukuna comments from within as Yuji fails to evade a blow from the wasp. “You’re being too controlling, child. Cursed energy is supposed to flow, wrapping around the body and swaddling you like you’re suspended in liquid, crashing against your foes like a wave whenever you make impact.”

“I’m trying, you know,” he grouses internally, grabbing ahold of one of the thing’s arms and karate chopping it off, but allowing it to make distance with him again. “To borrow your metaphor, the ‘water’ isn’t there yet when I punch.” Continuing his duel with the beast, he kicks one of the tables at the curse, providing himself with cover to get in close again.

He thinks he feels an eyeroll from his headmate, which, rude, but he knows better than not to listen from the curse’s shockingly good counsel. “Foolish child, the cursed energy is only lagging behind because your mind thinks it is. Stop trying to generate it from any specific place in your body. It’s already where you need it to be.”

Reenforcing his wrist to catch another attack from the curse, Yuji calls blood manipulation to the surface, feeling the scars on his face lengthen and fill with blood. “Flowing Red Scale!” he exclaims, body heating up as blood and cursed energy flow faster through his veins. His fist collides with the wasp’s face, blood-made brass knuckles exploding off of his hand like a grenade instantly vaporizing the curse’s head. (There we go.)

“Better,” Sukuna says appraisingly. “Tell me child, do you sense any more curses here?” 

“Nope,” Yuji instantly replies.

Receiving a mental pat on the back from Sukuna, the curse asks, “And how can you tell that?”

“No more cursed energy, for one. It’s all been dispersed into the air, no longer clotting on the walls,” he answers confidently. “Also, the paper that talked about a kid dying from insect stings only ever mentioned one kid. It wouldn’t make sense for a tragedy affecting a singular person to spawn multiple curses.”

“Well said,” Sukuna praises, flooding his body with his cursed energy. “We have two more rumors to check now, do you recall?”

Walking out the door of the dilapidated restaurant, he responds, “Yeah, you thought that the corrupt law firm was promising right? How about we do that one today and Yoshino’s school tomorrow?”

“Very well.”

Nobara is pleased after a long and successful day of shopping, happily swinging bags filled with her new bounty. Junpei is happily tapping away on his DS as they wander towards Nobara’s pick-up point.

“Wait, you play Pokemon?” Nobara asks, glancing over at Yoshino’s 3DS. (He’s beaten Ultra Sun, at least.)

“Who doesn’t?” he says sarcastically in response.

She groans. “Not my classmates! Seriously, it’s so annoying!”

“What?” Yoshino exclaims in mock outrage. “You’re telling me none of them have played ORAS?”

“It’s worse,” she says dramatically. “One of them didn’t even know they kept making them after DPP, and the other called it ‘just a kid’s game!’” (Why do my classmates have to be so uncool?)

“No…” the boy gasps, horrified.

“It gets worse!” she exclaims. “My idiot sensei actually prefers Digimon! Can you believe that!?”

Throwing up his hands, her new favorite sorcerer exclaims, “How can a teacher be so uncool?”

“See!” she yells, waving a finger at him. “You, you get it! I’m gonna text Gojo-sensei right now and rub this in his dumb face!” (I have been vindicated!)

Gojo responds, “How could my own student betray me like this?” accompanied by a barrage of frowny and crying emojis.

“Hey, uh,” Yoshino stutters out, snapping Nobara out of her gloating. “You wanna come back to my house? If you have your DS with you, we could play together.” (I have a mission to do… however.)

“That sounds WAY more fun than what I had planned today,” she answers, totally disregarding her assignment. “Let’s go!”

Nanami is so done with this week. Ijichi informed him that Kugisaki went to hang out with the kid she’s supposed to be interrogating, and Itadori ran off to god knows where, impulsively completing three difficult missions in the space of five hours. (That curse was also much stronger than I thought it’d be. I’ll have to be more careful with it in the future.)

To make matters worse, both of his charges independently decided to converge on Satozakura High, a known stomping ground of the change curse. (What did Sukuna call it again? Disaster curse? Very accurate to how much trouble it’s been giving me, I’ll give him that.)

As Nanami approaches the school with Ijichi, one thought runs through his head; ‘fuck.’ He mirrors this thought in speech as he puts his hand to the already deployed curtain currently settled over the school. (No sign of the kid’s cursed energy. They’re already inside.)

“Y-your orders, Nanami?” Ijichi stammers, nervously typing away at his phone.

Nanami sighs. “Lock down the surrounding area. Inform Gojo of the unregistered and irregular veil that just got pulled down around Satozakura, and check if we have any more backup in the area. This is going to get messy.” (This barrier has very strange conditions. It’s meant to keep out, but I can’t tell what it’s supposed to be protecting.)

Unsheathing his cleaver, Nanami prepares to find the weakpoint in this barrier.

As Yuji is walking the streets of Kawasaki city, she speaks up, saying. “Child, one of my fingers is nearby.”

“Wait, what?” he questions, forgetting to talk in his head and coming to an immediate stop.

“I was not sure until now, for this is one of my fingers that tends to stay the most quiet, but it’s nearby, I’m sure of it,” she continues. “You’re not going to like where it showed up, too. It’s right around where your classmate and that child the change curse made bait of are.”

Yuji gulps. “That’s really not good.”

“Indeed, so we will need to act quickly,” she says. “To make matters worse, a veil is being lowered over a building nearby, and I know for a fact it wasn’t Nanami who did that.”

Yuji immediately takes off running, not bothering to disguise his superhumanity as he rushes down narrow alleys, slipping into the school right before the barrier closes. (No hesitation, good. He’s growing into what a sorcerer should be.)

Sprinting into the schoolyard, her vessel glances around, scanning the area and locating the highest concentration of cursed energy, preparing to leap up to meet his foe. “Remember your training, child,” she reminds him.

Her child sends her a mental nod, infusing his legs with cursed energy and activating Flowing Red Scale, with the chants of “Flow, Lifeblood, All-seeing,” before leaping through the window and slamming both feet directly into the change curse, who was reaching to transfigure Kugisaki just seconds before he got there.

The patchwork being slams into the wall of the stairwell, crashing through the plaster into a classroom, where it finally manages to transfigure its hands into hooks and slow itself down. “Ooo, a new plaything? And one who can actually hurt me? I was getting so bored of these two weaklings.”

“I had it handled, you know,” Kugisaki states, drawing three more nails.

“Sure you did,” she says, rolling her child’s secondary eyes as best she can. (The curse implied that before this, none of Yoshino or Kugisaki’s attacks did any lasting damage. Perhaps it can self-repair, but its wording makes me doubtful it’s as simple as that.)

“Who the hell is this, Nobara?” Yoshino demands, clearly agitated as his jellyfish shikigami floats gently behind him. (A shikigami user, interesting. Shame such techniques rarely interact well with Offering, or the copy of Ten Shadows I took from that idiot Fujiwara during his pathetic attempt at mutually assured destruction would have been significantly more useful.)

“I’m Itadori Yuji, Kugisaki’s classmate,” her child answers before Kugisaki can, readying his fists. “Anything important to inform me of, Sukuna?”

She nods mentally, informing Yuji, “The curse can self-transfigure without making contact and seems limited by the materials found in the human body. In case you missed it, it implied that you’re the only one that can do lasting damage to it.”

“Understood,” he responds, dashing towards the curse with Yoshino’s shikigami right behind him, aiming a low kick at the change curse as the jellyfish fires off giant stingers at it.

“Aw, c’mon Junpei, after all that time I spent training you, you’re just gonna betray me?” the curse pouts, barely avoiding the kick from Yuji and taking both of the stingers easily. “I’m hurt!” it cries. (I suppose that confirms Yoshino was at one point allied with this curse.)

“Shut up, Mahito,” the shikigami wielder hisses. “Whatever we had fell apart the moment you tried to kill my mom!”

“Ah, but don’t you see, Junpei? Life has no meaning,” the curse taunts, growing wings to rush down the boy with, only to be interrupted by a wave of cursed energy-infused blood from Yuji, weighing down its wings.

“No!” Kugisaki exclaims, “Don’t intervene! I’ll kill this curse myself! I DON’T NEED ANYONE!”

“Idiot child!” she booms, glaring at Kugisaki with both secondary eyes as the young sorcerer flings two more explosive nails at her vessel to slow him down. “Your hubris is going to get you killed, foolish girl!”

“Kugisaki!” Yuji pleads, dodging the nails and trying to pull Junpei away from the line of fire. “Let me help you! You’re fighting a special grade!”

“I’m not weak!” Kugisaki bellows, smashing Mahito on the head with her hammer and kicking him away from her to give her space to ready more nails.

“Oof!” the curse exclaims, using his transfiguration to make a cartoonishly large bump appear on his head, which he cradles in his hands. “That almost hurt me! Not quite, though!”

“Sukuna, what the hell is going on with this guy?” Yuji asks her, hurling a discus of blood at the curse with a call of, “Slicing Exorcism!”

“Unclear,” she responds, glaring intently out of his secondary eyes. “If I had to guess, I’d say that it’s using its transfiguration to make itself functionally invincible, but without sampling the technique for myself I couldn’t tell you more than that.” (There’s a mechanism to its transformations, I can see it. Whenever it moves to transfigure itself, an outline of it moves first, just after it uses cursed energy. I don’t think Kugisaki has noticed yet.)

Her vessel tries to get in close a few more times, but his classmate is fully disregarding his own safety, firing off explosive nails like arrows from horseback, screaming about not needing their help and earning her keep.

“Cute argument,” the curse remarks playfully, unnaturally extending its torso several feet to get around Kugisaki’s wild swings. “But I think you should be paying attention to me, actually!”

“Move!” she mentally screams to her vessel who desperately twists out of the way of the thing’s reaching hand, only for the palm to land on– (Oh no)

“Idle Transfiguration!” 

The children cannot do anything to stop it. Yoshino’s flesh pales, turning blue and sallow as his body balloons, transfigured in an instant by the cruelty of the disaster technique. (I need to get out!)

“Yuuuujiiii,” the thing that once was Junpei groans, flailing against her vessel and body blocking him from the rest of the fight. “Nobaraaaaa…” (Can I even undo this? Now is not the time for doubt. I need to find a way to act.)

“YOU DISGUSTING SACK OF FLESH, HOW DARE YOU!?” Kugisaki screams, vollying off three more nails. “HAIRPIN!”  

“Oopsie daisies!” Mahito squeals, clapping his hands childishly as he weaves around the nails, shifting his form so they pass right through him. “I didn’t think it’d be that effective! That other sorcerer must have been some really great practice!”

A tear rolls down her vessel’s cheek, fear, guilt, doubt, and righteous anger all pooling in her child’s mind, locking him in place. “Yuji, snap out of it! Your friends are still in grave danger.”

But Yuji can’t hear her, muttering “Yoshino… no, it can’t be. It can't be real. You’re gonna be ok,” eyes zoning off into the distance.

“All over one little boy? That’s kinda sad, to be honest,” Mahito says, mocking disappointment. “I wonder, would the girl get an even bigger reaction out of you? Let’s test!”

Nobara screams, flinging even more nails and blasting the curse through a wall. “Like I’d ever let you touch me! I’ll-”

“-Kill me? That’s cute, Nobara!” The curse exclaims with a craze glint in its eyes, rushing at Kugisaki with hand outstretched, and without Yuji to cover her, the palm lands true. “But you should really watch your mouth! It’s impolite to say things like that, you know?”

It tackles the girl to the ground, cupping it’s pale hand over her mouth–

“Idle Transfiguration!”

–and blowing her face clean off, painting the walls with her blood, skin, hair and teeth. (Damn it! I think I can fix that much damage if Kugisaki doesn’t stay like that for too long.)

“That was fun!” the curse remarks, standing up from straddling Kugisaki and turning to Yuji. “Will you play with me next?”

A sob tears from her vessels throat.

Sukuna snaps him out of his anger and sorrow before he can spiral too far. “Focus, Yuji, this is no time for such rage.” 

He mentally shouts back, “Then what the hell am I supposed to do!? Junpei is a monster and Nobara is going to be blown apart!”

“Huh? Are you talking to someone?” Mahito asks, walking up to him and waving a hand in his face. “Oh! I know! You’re talking to Sukuna, aren’t you?”

“Trust me to save you,” Sukuna replies calmly, grounding him. “I was born a gift, so let me give you safety.”

He knows there’s more to that. He’s not stupid, Sukuna definitely cares for him, and isn’t bothering to hide it. Everything he’s been told by Jujutsu authorities is screaming at him to not trust Sukuna, to ignore him and run for his life, but Yuji cannot turn away from this. (Sukuna is my only option to save them. It’ll be just like the detention center, right?)

…the detention center. That’s an idea.

 “He’ll bleed out swiftly if I am not there to repair him, Yuji.” Sukuna says as shadow billows around his black-haired classmate.

“You promise you can heal him?” Yuji asks in response, as Fushiguro’s hands come up in front of him as if holding a wheel. (Dammit. Forget me, he’ll be the death of us all.)

“Of course I can. Let me out, and I’ll save all of you from this rampant fragment of mine .” 

“At the detention center, what did you do with your words?” he asks hesitantly as Yoshino’s body shivers in his hands.

“I used a binding vow to ensure you could not go back on your word and would let me out into the world for as long as I needed to save you.” he responds. (A lot to analyse there and no time to do it. Shit. I don’t think I have a choice but to trust binding vows to be truly binding.)

“Can you vow to heal them?” he begs, tears filling his eyes.

He feels a smile from Sukuna, despite being unable to see him. “Of course, child. Whatever you need to feel safe.”

He cocks his head to the side, a calm smile crossing his face as he stares down the patchwork curse.

He feels a tiny rush of cursed energy flow through his neck, initiating the vow. “Here’s the deal; in exchange for saving Yoshino Junpei, Kugisaki Nobara, and you from this situation, I will be allowed to take over your body for a minute one time without having to ask you first, should I deem you to be in danger by chanting ‘Enchain.’”

He returns the flow of cursed energy, completing the vow with a simple, “Deal.”

As he slips into that field of flowers once more, he hears a grunt of effort from a mature voice and sound of bone crunching.

Chapter Text

“Ratio Technique: Collapse!”

CRUNCH!

Sweet. It’s her first thought as her teeth sink into the human curse’s supple flesh, crushing bone and spraying blood all along the inside of her second mouth. (It’s almost overpowering. This one is by far the sweetest curse I’ve ever eaten!)

She feels the curse’s poisonous power rush through her body, sequencing itself into her endless lattice of cursed energy. Her teeth gnash over and over again, each bite bringing a new burst of sweetness as his winelike blood splashes across her mouth. (What a rush! This one is a worthy offering.)

The curse’s bones are ground to dust, the marrow intoxicating her with an unbelievable high. She never wants it to end. She feels the warmth of the technique’s essence as it begins to integrate into the ecosystem of her domain, begging her to seek out the rest of it and take it as her own. (But I must wait. I must be patient to continue my meal. The children are in danger, and the young always take priority.)

(Focus.)

She blinks, turning to the sorcerer that has just arrived on the scene. (I have backup. Fantastic.)

“Nanami,” she says to the man, tearing off the rest of her vessel’s shirt and wiping the blood off of the newly formed maw on her chest. “You will buy me time. I will save both young ones so long as you keep the spirit busy.”

“Why should I trust you?” he asks, voice flat, never taking his eyes off of Mahito, who’s quickly recovering in the schoolyard.

She rolls her eyes at his suspicion. “I could kill everything within bowshot of this place in an instant and you’d be totally unable to stop me.”

“But you didn’t.” (He catches on quickly.)

She nods to him, turning to face the two children. “Indeed. You must hurry, lest you wish to bury these children.”

Nanami flinches, but otherwise says nothing, taking a cursed energy infused leap into the courtyard, lunging at the curse with his cleaver in hand.

She turns back to her son’s friends, looking sadly down on Kugisaki’s crumpled form as the thing that once was Junpei flails sadly, life rapidly draining from its body. (But I can change things. I may not have obtained much from my feast, however, I should have just enough to do this.)

She lays one palm on the children’s abdomens, calling on her cursed energy identically to the change curse. (Such strength!)

“Idle Transfiguration.”  

Ignoring the flash of Sukuna’s cursed energy, Nanami lands calmly in front of the curse, spinning his cleaver around his hand. (Dammit. This thing’s technique is almost a perfect counter to me.)

“Just you, Seven to Three?” the curse asks playfully, but Nanami can detect a hint of concern in its voice. (I assume the curse is incapable of handling Sukuna, even if he doesn’t have all of his fingers.)

He can’t afford to let this battle drag out. This thing can kill with a single touch, is virtually indestructible, and quickly regenerates from any damage. He’s outmatched through sheer force of cursed energy here, but he’s not fighting to win. (I don’t need to win. I don’t even need to land a hit. All I need is to hold out long enough for Sukuna to be done healing the students.)

He grinds his teeth together, jaw hurting from how much he’s been doing it today. He really doesn’t want to think about how the kids looked. Junpei was one of those monsters, and it didn’t even look like there was anything left of Kugisaki’s head. (Never again. Haibara will be the last.)

“Sukuna cares.”

His fury boils– “I hate overtime.” --and his aura flares to life.

His cleaver connects with Mahito’s arm, just barely missing the golden ratio that would set off his technique, but somehow, it nearly cleaves right through. (Huh? How did my techniqueless strike still cut through its arm?)

The curse looks just as surprised as he is, flailing away from his strike by morphing its body into a bird and awkwardly fluttering backwards, nearly crashing into a swing set. (It’s definitely sloppier than it was in the sewers. Sukuna did something to it when he bit its arm off.)

“Man, that feels weird,” the curse remarks, reforming its damaged limb and throwing itself out of the way of another calculated blow. (I’m going to need to go faster.)

Nanami dryly calls out “Collapse,” activating disclosure as he slams a foot into the play structure, firing the mess of cursed energy-infused metal and plastic like a shotgun at the patchwork curse, rushing it behind the cover of the improvised smokescreen.

“That’s a fun trick!” the curse exclaims cheerfully, twisting away from the larger chunks of debris and reaching a technique infused hand towards him, which he immediately separates from its body with a well placed strike.

It recoils from the strike, waving its severed arm around as if expecting something to happen. “Man, not again!”

Ignoring the thing’s childish narration, Nanami flings himself to the side, grabbing onto his cleaver with both hands and lining up another strike.

His opponent waits until the last second, ducking his cleaver strike and landing a palm on his wrist, its cursed energy failing as its technique… fails to activate? (Why did the technique fail? Mahito’s control was pinpoint when we fought in the sewers. It doesn’t matter. I'm not going to count on it failing twice.)

With single minded focus, Nanami continues his onslaught, batting away the stray hands trying to transfigure him and hacking away at the Mahito’s torso, slowly honing in on the curse’s ever-shifting ratios. (Seven, fifteen, four, eight, five centimeters off. I’m getting closer.)

A flare of Sukuna’s vile cursed energy interrupts their brawl, pinning them both in place under its weight for a split second and killing their momentum. (I can’t keep this up for long, but neither can Mahito. Whatever Sukuna is doing, he’s destabilizing its technique.)

“Haha,” the curse chuckles nervously, coughing into its hand. “Man, that feels really weird. I don’t suppose you’re feeling the same thing, Seven to Three?”

Not bothering to dignify it with an answer, he pushes his cursed energy further, speeding up his pace as he runs circles around the curse, raining blow after blow against its ever-changing form, weaving between punches, kicks, and slashes, his energy sequencing into beautiful, rigid lines. 

The curse cries out in pain under the weight of his onslaught, but the world seems so distant right now… everything feels so… right.

With one last twirl of his cleaver, he slams the swaddled blade into the curse’s side, time slowing to a crawl, every last particle lining up perfectly in one magnificent, mathematical sequence.

Seven to Three.

Black Flash!

Nanami sees it now, the meaning of his cursed energy—of his soul, as his opponent calls it. Gojo always told him that cursed energy is at its most efficient when it flows, passing through the body as though it’s not even there, empowering him as it moves through his muscles. He doesn’t know how he didn’t realize how wrong Gojo was.

Nanami’s cursed energy is like him: sturdy, efficient, rigid, and constant. His cursed energy can’t flow throughout his body normally, because his energy isn’t normal.

His energy doesn’t need to flow either, because it’s already where it needs to be. All it takes is a little shift in his mindset, a tiny, effortless microadjustment, and everything locks into place. Exactly where it needs to be.

The lines set themselves into place, settling into his bones like wires of pure energy, ready to transmit his will into every strike. There will be no wasted energy, nothing set out of place, no all-consuming wildfire of cursed energy, only joyful silence and lethal efficiency.

Mahito is flung back from the force of the rupturing cursed energy. Half of its wretched body has been blown apart by the force of the black flash. “Oh,” the curse remarks, glancing at the giant hole where his arm and shoulder used to be. “I don’t think I like this game anymore.”

Deciding now is the time to speak, Nanami readies his cleaver again, running lines of cursed energy throughout the weapon as he responds. “There’s no game, Mahito.”

“Haah,” the curse exhales in pain. “Looks like I’ll be needing a little help.” (Can it even breathe? Or is that just a mockery of humanity?)

He doesn’t get time to ponder that as a second special grade shows up, grabbing the change curse by the wrist. “Ne, Mahito, I leave you for thirty minutes and already you find yourself outmatched. Some disaster you are,” the newcomer says condescendingly, white hair flapping in the nonexistent wind.

“Hey, Rozetsu!” Mahito replies cheerfully. “Mind giving me a hand?”

“Sure,” the special grade says, grabbing—‘is that one of Sukuna’s fingers?’–-from the folds of Mahito’s flesh and infusing its own cursed energy into it. 

“Aw, man, I was really looking forward to using that,” the change curse complains.

Rozetsu rolls its eyes. “You’ll get it back, you damn newborn. Now, you must be the Seven to Three sorcerer currently occupying this idiot’s mind,” he comments, seemingly finished with activating whatever technique he just applied to the finger, wrapping the form of a very familiar looking cursed spirit around the finger. (Shit, is that Sukuna?)

“Good luck,” Rozetsu says offhandedly, opening a hole in the curtain and stepping through the barrier with the change curse in tow. As soon as the barrier closes, Not-Sukuna moves, throwing out a hand and chanting “Dismantle.”

Nanami’s vision goes white with pain. Even with all the cursed energy he used to empower his body, the invisible knife still almost cuts him clean in half. Righting himself as fast as he can, he counters another one of Sukuna’s slashes with his cleaver. (Much weaker. Either Sukuna’s chanting is ridiculously efficient or there’s a trick to that dismantle attack.)

He never gets the chance to find out. Nanami manages to hold out for another fifteen seconds before the curse grabs him by the head and throws him like a ragdoll across the playground, slamming him into what looks like a gymnasium and sending a wave of slashes towards him with another wave of its hand. (Guess this is the end. Sorry, Haibara.)

Death never finds him, but for a moment he almost thinks it’s coming for him due to the vile cursed energy pressing down on him. He manages a small smile. (Looks like I managed to hold out long enough.)

The real Sukuna has arrived.

Her first thoughts upon blocking the sloppy mimicry of her own dismantle were something along the lines of: ‘Who does this curse think it is to dare incarnate me in such a sloppy vessel?’

Once she gets over the righteous indignation of this new presumptuous curse who dares to sully her perfect form, she goes straight into analysis mode. (Why does this artificial curse’s shape bother me so much? Something to consider later, perhaps.)

Dancing around the curse, she immediately makes note of the technique it’s using. It’s able to dismantle. ‘That’s strange. If it were a true copy, it would be able to use my full arsenal.’ Its fighting style is also sloppy and awkward, clearly using her old four-handed style. ‘Good information, at least. Whoever this ‘Rozetsu’ character is, he knows or knew me when I had four arms.’ (It’s also using my own cursed energy to fire off its techniques, but is solely relying on its own for enhancement. That means its technique isn’t to copy, nor is it to steal…)

“Technique mimicry,” she murmurs to herself, “likely uses some form of effigy or tribute to use.” In a moment of curiosity, she activates her furnace, slashing it at the knees with an ashen dismantle, which the artificial curse tries to respond with, but fails. (I see. It’s adaptive, but only to a point. It can’t copy the vow I use to activate my ashen dismantle, nor can it use any of the enhancements born from fusing it with my solar and volcanic techniques.)

Getting bored of the thing, she activates one of her personal favorite techniques, mawmaker, transforming her forearm and hand into a gigantic mouth which instantly bites off and swallows the curse’s upper body. (No benefit from devouring it. I can’t begin assimilating Rozetsu’s technique with my innate technique, but I did retrieve my stolen cursed energy that was used to activate this mimicry technique.) 

She growls angrily, swiping the finger out of the air before it can fall to the ground. (He got away. What a shame.)

Quickly swallowing the severed digit, she suppresses the burst of cursed energy usually associated with consuming one of her fingers. She sends a quick glance over to where Kugisaki and Yoshino lie unconscious to make sure they are both fully stable. (They’re fine, thank goodness. Idle Transfiguration is a miraculous technique, it's a damn shame I was only able to gain a single tasting of such an exquisite power.)

She wants more. She needs more. This is her way out, and her child’s way to safety. She’ll chase down this curse right now and– (Nanami! Damn it all! How could I forget?)

Scanning the ruined schoolyard, she locates him near one of the entrances to the school theater, dashing over to him faster than most can even recognize. His soul is somehow undamaged, but the rest of his body lies in complete ruin, with multiple internal injuries ranging from punctured lungs to damaged intestines, and deep gashes all across the rest of his body. (At least Mahito was unable to instantly annihilate him with its technique. It seems even the small bite I took of it was still enough to destabilize its technique.)

She stands over Nanami’s beaten and bloodied form, slumped against the wall. “You couldn’t protect them.” There’s no judgement in her tone, just cold fact.

He’s definitely struggling to breathe with no RCT flowing through his body. He’s bound to choke to death on his own blood soon. “I couldn’t do it.” (He’s frustrated and conflicted. He despises the wretched work we sorcerers commit ourselves to, yet can never pull away from it.)

“Your cursed energy burns with anger, a flame that never goes out in your heart. You hate yourself. You hate this life. You hate the entire world.” She kneels down, meeting his eyes. “You’ve fought for a very long time, Nanami. Long enough that you can’t remember what you are fighting for.” (He’s lost so much, but I’ve preserved two things he never wants to lose.)

He hacks out more blood, staining his suit and tie further. “Are you condemning me, Sukuna?” (There’s no fear in his eyes.)

“I’m giving you a choice,” she responds, raising her cursed energy. “Death makes the soul honest. Tell me, Nanami, what do you fear most at this moment?” (Time to make your choice.)

He stares her down unflinchingly as she removes his glasses. “That one day, it’ll be the kids slumped against a wall.”

She nods slowly, placing two fingers on his forehead. “When that day comes, what will you do?”

His eyelids flutter slightly, his entire body starting to twitch as he sends the last of his cursed energy into his words. “I’ll be there to save them.”

He takes a shallow, shuddering breath, cursed energy sputtering out into nothingness as he speaks the final part of his one-sided vow. “As many times as it takes.”  

“You weren’t created a gift as I was, yet you still give your life for the sake of others.” Reverse cursed energy washes over Nanami like a wave, stitching his body back together and mending his spirit. “Keep giving, Nanami. Your spirit is a blessing.”

With the vow sealed, she relinquishes control over her son’s body, collapsing forward onto the man’s lap as he fades away into unconsciousness.

Yuji is having a good dream. A dream of love, a dream of family, a dream of comfort. Even so, all dreams have to end eventually, so he wakes up, and opens his eyes.

But he never wakes up. He blinks, and sees a woman leaning over him, holding his head in her lap and gently carding her fingers through his hair. She has a sharp, angular face tattooed with black markings across her jawline, nose, and forehead, four red eyes, two of which face forward like his do, the other two outlining the bottom half of her eyelids. She has long pink hair with brown roots that’s swept back out of her face. Her hands are clawed with black nails and rings around her wrists, and she’s wearing an ornate white kimono.

His eyes widen. “Sukuna?”

The woman smiles softly. “Yes, child?”

Chapter Text

“I-what?” her child stammers, eyes wide. “Where are we? Why do you look like that? Are my friends ok?”  

“Calm down, child,” she responds with a hearty laugh. “One at a time. Even my doubled ears are having trouble keeping up.”

Yuji looks at her quizzically, but quickly composes himself. “Are they safe?”

“Your friends? Of course they are. I don’t break my vows,” she responds confidently. “As for Nanami, although he’s beaten and bruised, he will not die. I have made sure of this.”

Her son exhales in relief, and attempts to push himself upright.He is stopped by her arm pushing him back down. “Rest, child. You deserve it after what you went through.”

“But I-” at her glare, he relaxes, settling back into her lap. “Fine. What about the change curse?”

Pushing down her anger, she replies, “It got away, but not without damage. I was preoccupied with saving your friends and sensei and could not finish it off.”

Yuji frowns at her answer, disappointment clouding his expression. “Ok. But… where exactly are we? I was here before, back at the detention center when you saved me.”

Gesturing around, she replies, “We’re in my innate domain, an inner world constructed from my mind and spirit.”

“It’s beautiful…” her son murmurs, looking around the gardens of her domain. 

“Thank you, child,” she replies with a light laugh. 

They sit in silence a while longer, mother slowly stroking her child’s hair, wind blowing gently through the domain, until Yuji suddenly speaks up. “Why do you call me ‘child’ like that?”

She narrows her eyes slightly. “Like what?”

“Like…” her child says, trailing off before visibly steeling himself. “Like grandpa used to call me kid.” 

She sighs. “I suppose this would have come up at some point,” she mutters to herself. “Very well, I will not mince words. I do see you as my child. In fact, I know you to be related through blood to me.”

Yuji’s mouth falls open in shock, a barely audible whisper of, “What?” falling out of his mouth that she would not be able to catch without her enhanced hearing.

She snickers. “Apologies, your shocked expression is amusing.”

“Wait wait wait,” her child says, words streaming out of his mouth as he quickly sits up. “You can't just drop this on me? Are you like, my great-great-great grandparent or something?”

She shakes her head, scooting over on the buddha’s hands to provide room for Yuji to sit. “No, unfortunately. The reality of your heritage is much more unpleasant than that.” She takes a deep breath in and out, before continuing, “I believe it would be most accurate to call me your uncle through your father’s side.” (I’m going to have to be careful with this. I’d tell him everything if that vile brain didn’t have Uraume and I in a binding vow.)

Yuji’s eyes go wide. “Is my dad immortal or something?”

“No, your father is likely dead,” she drops with zero fanfare. “You are aware that I am from the Heian period, correct?”

“Yeah, but I don’t see what that has to do with this.” her child mutters.

She informs Yuji that, “I was not the only sorcerer who traversed an age of death as a cursed object, merely the strongest.”

Yuji looks something between horrified and confused at this, but she holds up a hand to stop him from talking. “Calm yourself, child. What’s done is done. I had a brother, for a time, during my life. He was a sickly, weak thing who could do nothing on his own, yet cared for nothing in the world.”

Her child nods, motioning for her to continue. “He was something of a legend in his time, using the strength of another to take as he pleased and destroying whatever he did not like.” She locks eyes with her child, four red eyes staring down two gold ones. “That ‘other’s strength’ was mine. He was the first I was granted to, but he would not be the last.”

A flash of understanding appears in her child’s eyes. “Oh. Sukuna never had four arms, did he?”

She nods, suppressing a flinch. “Indeed. We were, as you would call us nowadays, conjoined twins. I, with the power, and he with the mind. Perhaps in another life, we could have been good friends, but the cruelty of life is as predictable as it is constant.”

“You’re nothing! You’re a weakling who could not measure up to me if you tried! How dare you say I am weaker than you! YOU!”

“This relates to how you know I’m your nephew, doesn’t it?” her child asks grimly.

She nods, “Techniques are hereditary. My brother wielded a feeble cutting technique he boosted with my potent cursed energy. A technique that I can see engraved faintly on your soul.”

Catching on quickly, Yuji finishes her thought for her. “And a technique that you own the original copy of, right? That’s your technique, the ability to give or take the cursed techniques of others?”

Lowering her eyes, she finishes, “It is indeed, child. As it seems, whatever remained of him was sent forward, eventually being implanted into your father.”

“Okay,” he accepts, looking visibly shaken, “and you are Sukuna, right?”

“Indeed, child,” she answers. (One of the many names I've been called over the years.)

He coughs, eyes flitting about in embarrassment. “Uh, pardon my bluntness Sukuna– but are you a girl?” (Huh?)

Glancing to her son in confusion, she asks, “Why would I be?”

“Well, it’s just…” he trails off, gesturing wildly at her before continuing hesitantly. “You look like one.”

“I suppose I do have a feminine appearance in my domain, but this space is not real,” she explains.

“So?” her child challenges, “Who cares if it’s not real? It’s your body, right?” (It never has been my body, has it?)

Averting her gaze, she answers, “Is it, though? I’m a gift, child, a tool born to suit the needs of whoever I inhabit. That’s how it’s always been, from my first death ‘till now. My body has never once been my choice. Why would that change now?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Yuji asks hotly, frustration in his voice. “Even if it’s not your body, can’t you still be what you want?”

She frowns. “Do I even deserve to call myself a woman? I’ve never had a body of my own, nor have I inhabited one as I have with you. The few I have been gifted to have all been men, from my original vessel to you, child.” (Why does that bother me so much? I thought I had set aside such petty issues.)

To her surprise, her child exclaims, “That’s stupid! Who cares what body you have!? You clearly want to be a girl if the ‘you’ in your domain is one, that alone makes you deserve it!”

Shock flashing across her face, she responds, “Child, I did not mean to offend–”

“No! Sukuna, you’re not listening!” he cries. “You told me to not let anything get in the way of my ambitions, right!? That’s the path to become a strong sorcerer, right?”

Four eyes narrow, locked onto her son. “I did say that, yes.”

“How is this any different?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, “What exactly is stopping you from being a girl?”

His words land with the force of her own furnace, causing her whole body to shudder as a distinctly uncomfortable wrongness settles into the forefront of her mind, locking her in place. (Is that what feels so wrong to me?)

Swallowing heavily, she responds to her son. “Nothing is, child.”

Her son nods, seemingly satisfied, and shoots her a blinding smile. “I’ll leave you to figure yourself out. Bye, Sukuna!”

She returns his nod as he vanishes into prismatic triangles of light.

“...Thank you child. You’ve given me much to think about.” 

“Oh, you’re awake. I didn’t think it was gonna be this early.” (Huh? Who’s there?)

She’s in a car, a blue honda, driving through the countryside towards… somewhere. (I know this place, somehow.)

She belatedly registers that she’s not alone in the car, there’s a woman with straight, grey hair driving. “You know, Nobara, this is gonna be a really long car ride. You’re probably gonna want to fall back asleep.” (She knows my name?)

“Huh? Where are we? Who are you?” She demands.

The woman chuckles. “Yeah, it was pretty weird my first time here, too. You can call me Rose, though.” (Rose? That’s not a Japanese name.)

“You didn’t answer my questions. Did you kidnap me!?”

“I forgot how hotheaded you are, Nobara. I can answer one of your questions, at least. We’re headed to the airport.” (How does she know me?)

Her mind feels weirdly fogged over, like there’s something stuck in the way of where her memories should be. “Why the airport? I don’t have tickets to any flights.”

The woman shrugs. “It’s where most of us go. That second part isn't true. You do have tickets. We both do.”

Angrily, Nobara exclaims, “You’re being really cryptic right now and I don’t like it!” (I have to remember!)

To her increasing anger, the woman breaks out into giggles over her rage. “It’ll make sense the next time you’re back here. Explaining it now would just be a waste of time.”

Wrestling clairity back into her thoughts, she fires back, “I don’t even want to come back here! I’d rather be with Shoko, Itadori, Fushiguro, and Maki!”

“Then you should get some sleep, Nobara,” the woman says, turning to face her, meeting her gaze with inhuman, abyssal blue eyes. “It really is a long car ride, kiddo.”

She tries to protest more, but a deep, unnatural tiredness settles into her body all too quickly, and she falls back asleep staring at those hauntingly abyssal blue eyes.

Shoko’s been feeling stressed as of late. Personally, this year has already had too much excitement. (This marks the second special grade mission the first years have had to deal with.)

As she finishes a cigarette, Nobara wakes with a start, turning to her and calling out, “Auntie? I’m still alive? How?” 

Shoko laughs derisively. “Look, I don’t know how he did it, but from skimming the mission report, it looks like Sukuna stitched your body back together with RCT.”

“Wait, Sukuna can heal people like you can, Auntie?” Nobara asks, clearly puzzled.

Shoko nods, hiding a wince. “Apparently. Unsurprising that the King of Curses is multitalented, but I don’t know why the hell he’d learn how to heal someone.”

“That does seem weird,” Nobara mutters to herself before unceremoniously leaping off the hospital bed. 

“Careful, Nobara,” Shoko says, moving to steady her niece with an arm on her back. “By the way, Yoshino is going to live. I don’t know how Sukuna managed to undo his transfiguration, but he did.”

Her niece’s eyes light up at that, expression breaking into a grateful smile. Shoko thinks she hears Nobara say something about ‘the driver not lying,’ but she’s not sure.

Gojo reads over the mission report that Ijichi just handed him, nearly spitting out his Hot Cocoa as he reads ‘two special grades’ and ‘unstable Sukuna incarnation puppeted by a cursed spirit.’

“Ijichi. Mind informing me about how the hell a special grade got its hands on another Sukuna finger?” Gojo demands, eyes flashing dangerously. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain council of old windbags, would it?” (I swear, if those idiots didn’t take my warning seriously…)

The window shakes his head. “N-no. According to Nanami’s report, the special grades indicated that they knew the location of another of Sukuna’s fingers, and an inventory of Tengen’s vault revealed that all six of our currently retrieved fingers are still there, including two pinkies, three indexes, and a thumb.”

The strongest sorcerer sighs. “Man, that’s a shame. I wanted to get them out of the way soon,” he says as casually as one would talk about the weather. “Anyway, Ijichi! Since the Goodwill Event is coming around soon, and I’ll inevitably have to steel my resolve for long enough to not crush old Gakuganji’s windpipe, I’d like you to take the initiative here to set my trio of students up with a window of their own.”

The window bows. “Very well-” before being cut off by his boss once again.

“Oh, and tell Utahime I said hi! I’m sure she’s missed me!” Gojo says, space warping around him as he teleports back to Tokyo Jujutsu High.

Chapter Text

She lives her life in repetition. Every day, she wakes up in the same garden she’s eternally locked in. Every day she tends to her shrine. Every day she walks among the flowers in her garden. Every day she practices the martial dances she sees through eyes that aren’t her own. Every day she stokes the burning bonfire of hatred she keeps in her heart.

It didn’t take her long after attaining consciousness for her to realize that she is special. She knows normal people aren’t born alone in a field of flowers. She knows normal people can’t see from the eyes of a body not your own. She knows normal people aren’t powerful like her.

…She hates the man she’s trapped in. She’s never heard his real name, only the title given to him by the fearful whispers that follow him through life. (Ryomen Sukuna, two-faced specter. But one of those faces is not his own.)

She’s tried to escape over the years, to kill the sickly, weak man residing in that lake of blood, so close yet just out of reach. Yet none of her attempts have even reached him. She is a god in her own realm, yet wholly alone in her domain.

She chokes as blood fills her mouth, doubling over and coughing wildly as the red fluid forces itself down her throat, a new strength filling her. It never got any easier to work through this, no matter how many times it happens. At first, she was scared of what was happening as blood drained into her mouth, but her questions were quickly answered with a single peek outside. ( His unique physiology. If he eats with my mouth, then I benefit from it.)

Finishing choking down the sickly sweet flesh, she examines the six pillars surrounding the shrine, one of them newly engraved with a technique taken from some nameless sorcerer unlucky enough to get in her brother’s way.

She tests out the new technique, some form of… mouth manipulation. She watches with a childlike curiosity as her right hand splits open to reveal a maw of gnashing teeth. She mutters to herself in a voice she barely uses, “Stone-cold hatred affects this one just as it does all the other, increasing its capacity for violence. Crushing loneliness makes it more precise and looming dread makes its effect area larger. The exact same for every other technique.” (But I can never know for sure if my key to emotion-based cursed energy use is truly constant amongst all sorcerers. Not while I’m trapped here. Not while he’s in charge.)

She learns the name of the curse trapping her here eventually, too. Heavenly Pact: a binding vow that requires no consent from the one it affects, only a desperate wish from the mother and enough grief-forged cursed energy to seal the vow. 

She’s learned a lot during her long imprisonment, for that is all she can do in this accursed place. Cursed energy and martial skill are her primary loves, mostly the former. She’s always experimenting with the next technique, the next combination, the next emotion, waiting and praying for the day that she can finally be free.

She looks to the skies of her innate domain, glaring up at the freedom so far out of reach.

Clearly this time, the imprisoned girl says, “One day, I’ll feel the sun with my own hands.”

Her brother’s been getting more and more bold. It seems the depths of his depravity know no limit, as his ‘feasts’ have been getting more and more high profile as time goes on. From isolated settlements, to towns, to cities, and now to the imperial palace, seemingly nowhere is safe from him.

He even managed to kidnap the princess, a woman by the name of Uraume, overcoming her bodyguard, a sorcerer with the ability to nullify techniques by the name of Angel. (It’s quite disappointing that I can’t nullify our Heavenly Pact from the inside out. I thought his hunger had finally blessed me with a way out of this place.

She’s drawn from her thoughts by the sounds of someone crashing through the roof of her brother’s cabin. “I didn’t realize the princess was still alive.” (A new voice? But from where?)

“Who goes there?” he snaps.

The unseen woman reveals herself, waving away the dust she kicked up from crashing through the roof. “The name’s Maki, but you don’t have to worry about that.” (Black hair, green eyes and pale skin. Is she a Fujiwara?)

He sneers at the woman. “How presumptuous for one without cursed energy to approach me. I hope you’re not here for the girl.” (That must be why I can’t sense her.)

“Nah, you don’t have to worry about that. The life of the emperor’s daughter is not my problem,” she says with a taunting grin, “Yours however, definitely is.” (Is she insane!? Openly challenging him with no cursed energy?)

“You think you stand a chance?” He bellows, laughing heartily from both mouths. “I admit, I admire your guts for challenging me, and going without an ambush, but honor does not win wars.” (I hate admitting he’s right.)

“Underestimate me all you’d like,” the Fujiwara woman says with a crazed smile. “It just makes my payday easier.”

“Well, you’re certainly insane enough to be a sorcerer,” he comments, settling into a stance. “I’d love to hear the screams a monkey like you will make!” (Is she insane!? How does she hope to win against my brother?)

She laughs, drawing a three sectioned staff from the curse wrapped around her shoulder. “‘Monkey’, huh? I kinda like that. Hope I get written down as ‘lord of the monkeys’ in the books.” (Wait! That staff!)

The Fujiwara laughs maniacally, whirling the three-sectioned staff around her body before flinging herself at the four-armed man. Surprisingly, the Fujiwara is not intercepted with a slash and immediately cut apart. Instead, she moves faster than the unenhanced eye can track and slams Playful Cloud into one of his hands, nearly ripping it off with the sheer force of the blow and blasting him through the wall of his cabin. (I see, she holds a pact as I do, like he does. I wonder what her mother wished for.)

He tried to get the upper hand by grappling Maki with his superior size, but the black-haired woman surprised him by completely overpowering his hold with sheer strength. “WHAT?” he bellows as he crashes against a tree, barely able to lunge out of the way as the Fujiwara whipped the staff in his direction, reducing an entire cone of trees to powder with the sheer wind force of the attack.

“Huh. You’re fast enough to perceive me,” the Fujiwara comments. “How novel.” After that small reprieve, she dashes off after him, kicking off the ground with force enough to create a crater and coming down with an elbow drop, twisting her three-sectioned staff into position to grapple him with it.

Her brother reacts with a barrage of dismantles, ripping into Maki’s flesh, but not succeeding in stopping her or even causing her to flinch. As soon as she gets in close, he layers a fist with cleaves, attempting to slam it into her side, but in a feat of athletics, Maki twists out of the way and grabs the offending limb, tearing it clean off clean off and splattering it against the forest floor. (She’s incredible.)

In a slight panic, her brother lays a hand on the ground, creating a spiderweb of cracks as he conducts his, “Cleave!” across the ground, pushing the staff-wielding woman away at the same time and giving him time to use reverse cursed technique on the missing hand.

Maki laughs as she weaves between dismantles, tapping the snake spirit curled around her on the head, causing it to spit out a warbow nearly as large as she is. “Cursed tool: Hama Yumi!” she calls, feeding her spirit to the staff before knocking an arrow. “It’s draw weight is exactly as heavy as I can lift.”

His four eyes widen as he throws a hand out, the mouth on his stomach already chanting out, “Scale of the dragon. Recoil. Twin meteors.” before setting loose the largest “ Dismantle!” he ever has, barely surpassing the arrow’s power and landing a cut on the right side of Maki’s face, right over the lip. (This isn’t sustainable for him. It costs her almost nothing to fire such an arrow, and dismantles of that strength are a massive drain on cursed energy.)

Adapting quickly, he ignites both of her lower hands, shaping the fire of his furnace with them as he evades arrows strong enough to reduce boulders to dust and trees to splinters, occasionally having to throw out another powerful dismantle to prevent an arrow from turning his head to pulp. Transferring the fire to his upper hands, he spaces them apart as if drawing a bow, shouting, “Fuga!” as the chains of a newly forged binding vow rattling in his soul.

The blast shakes the ground for miles around with its power, burning away a massive clearing in the forest and making a giant crater at its impact site, the destabilized ground causing the now burned Maki to stumble.

In a flash, he is upon her, drawing back two fists and exclaiming, “BLACK FLASH!” sending her soaring out of the scorched crater and slamming into a tree with a crack that promises broken bones. (It’s over, isn’t it?)

Maki just laughs hysterically as the dust and sparks settle, her wounds slowly stitching back together as they bleed sluggishly. “Come on, little boy, surely this isn’t all you can muster!” (How did she survive that?)

“Not even close, but you’ve at least piqued my curiosity,” he says, forming Enmaten with her hands. “What’s the trick?” (None of his slashes have even damaged her up until this point. Only the furnace and that cleave-laden black flash has proven itself able to deal damage.)

She tosses the ruins of what used to be her bow aside as she explains, “It’s called ‘Pure Humanity.’ In exchange for all my cursed energy, each part of my humanity is perfected. ” (How? I just felt disclosure activate, but she has no cursed energy. Does disclosing that pact boost its abilities?)

She draws a Jitte-shaped blade from her familiar as she finishes her disclosure. “Sure, I might not be able to pull off your sad little magic tricks, but I don’t have to pay any respect to them either!” (The Inverted Spear of Heaven? You mean to tell me she was there on that day, lurking in the shadows?)

There’s a loud bang as the air shatters under the speed of her movement, trees getting knocked down in her wake as she hacks and slashes wildly. (She’s faster! Her strange curseless technique still grows stronger with disclosure, even though it doesn’t use cursed energy.)

“Boo!” the woman shouts joyously, kicking him in the chest and sending him flying back towards where the unconscious princess lies.

Her brother bellows, “ENOUGH!” readying his secondary hands in Enmanten. “This is over.”

“Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine!”

The barrier closes around the two of them, Maki’s grin growing wider as she takes a final lunge, sure-hit activating and… failing to target her? (She has no cursed energy! Barriers can’t consider her targets! She’s fully immune to domains.)

His eyes widen, throwing out his hand in some attempt to stop her advance, only to have it batted away as the cursed Jitte finds purchase in his neck.

His domain shatters.

“You-” he chokes, firing off a barrage of slashes that fully miss the woman.

With a cackle, Maki drives the knife into her brother over and over again, causing his guts to spill out of his chest and onto the forest floor. (Even now his greed knows no bounds. Half of those are mine.) “I’m sorry, were you saying something about me having no chance against you?” Maki taunts, kicking him into a rock which shatters on impact.

Her curse spits out some manner of spear. “You know, I think this will do just fine as a grave marker,” she says, smiling vindictively as she spears him through the heart.

“Here lies Ryomen Sukuna, the ‘god’ who couldn’t even manage to kill a monkey.” Maki turns away, leaving dying King of Curses behind.

Since she was born, her solitude in this domain of hers has been assured. She’s probed at the walls of her cage, raged against it, tried to cut it apart with the vast collection of techniques she’s accumulated, and still nothing has ever managed to get her out of this pact.

At least until this day.

A giggle starts to build in her throat as variables start to line up. As soon as the Malevolent Shrine expands, the sickly man’s inner world vanishes from the depths of their shared mind. 

The giggle builds to a chuckle as the angel’s dagger plunges deep into her brother’s throat, instantly ending his technique and disrupting the pact that keeps her contained here. 

Finally, she bursts out into joyous laughter as Maki’s trishula ruptures her brother’s heart. Running to the edge of the void that separates their consciousness, she sends out a single slash using her brother's technique, finding that the barrier between their domains is now gone.

She draws back an arrow of fire she’s seen her brother use only once before, drawing on every last drop of burning anger born from her isolation to empower it, chanting, “Fuga!” before loosing it and instantly evaporating the lake of blood he resides in, turning his throne of bones to ash in the blast.

Her loneliness may have been assured from her day of birth, but that does not mean she would ever give up on the dream of escaping her prison. A peaceful smile crosses her face as she guides her brother’s soul into her domain.

“Greetings,” she says gleefully as he falls onto the field of flowers.

She took twisted satisfaction in her brother struggling to get to his feet with only two arms to push himself up on. “Strange, is it harder to talk when you only have one mouth to speak from? Have you truly always relied on my thankless help for every task?”

“Who the hell are you?” he growled, massaging his neck where the stab wound should be. “And where am I?”

“Ah, how rude of me to not introduce myself,” she said with a giggle, “I am Ryomen Sukuna, and we’re in my domain.”

His face twisted into a snarl as he realized her true identity. “How dare you! You, the husk of a twin I devoured, dare to parasitize my title!?” (That’s quite ironic.)

“On the contrary, brother, it is you who have been my parasite all this time,” she settles into an identical fighting stance to the one he always falls into. “If you’d like to prove me wrong, then by all means, show me you’re not a weakling without hiding behind the gifts you took from me.”

She revels in the expression of shock that crosses his face as all of his stolen cursed energy reserves leave him , and his secondary pair of eyes fuse shut. “What’s that face for? Those are my gifts that the heavens have granted to me, I’m merely collecting the years of debt you owe me for taking them without permission,” she taunts. (At last, karma has come for you.)

She sees him settle into a swaying, unsteady stance, exhausted and unused to the proportions of a body without her gifts attached to it. “I’ll tear you apart!” 

He lunges, clumsily, slowly, and unable to fully enhance his physicality with cursed energy. “You’re nothing! You’re a weakling who could not measure up to me if you tried! How dare you say I am weaker than you! YOU!” (Pathetic.)

She lazily defends against his tantrum, blocking with minimal cursed energy and weaving gracefully around the rest of his flailing. “I thought you’d have more poise than this, brother,” retaliating with a punch that stains her chrysanthemums red with blood. She teases, “one little thing doesn’t go your way and you’re reduced to a blubbering mess. How shameful. How embarrassing .”

He screams in rage, continuing his pathetic assault, “Did you not notice that we died!? That is far from just ‘one little thing!” (My, he looks a lot smaller when he can’t hide behind my gifts.)

“Correction, you died, not me, your failure is entirely your own,” she replies calmly, grabbing him by the foot and hurling him headfirst into the Buddha Amitabha, shattering his bones on impact with a loud bang of flesh and bone slamming into metal.

“You fool!” he rasps, vestiges of reverse cursed energy desperately trying to pull his shattered body together as he lands in the Buddha’s lap with a sickening crunch. “ My body is also your vessel! If I die, then you go with me!”

“Wrong again, foolish brother, the only one dying today is you,” she says, slowly striding towards the shrine at the core of her domain. “As I said before, this failure is only yours, and I will see no consequences from your failings.”

“What,” he says, taking in a shuddering breath as his skull knits itself back together, “Makes you think I’m lesser than you? That you can accomplish something I cannot?” (I’ve always been greater than you.)

She shrugs, looking at her peaceful surroundings. “The evidence speaks for itself, brother. You lost and I won.”

“You’re nothing,” he grits out. “You could never face me at my strongest. You’re just a coward, hiding inside a domain like some peasant.”

“I’m you, brother.” she replies calmly. “I’ve grown strong from all those you fed to me over these long years. Besides, what was it you said before that ‘monkey’ killed you? ‘Honor doesn’t win wars?’ Perhaps I saw the wisdom in such a philosophy.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out save for a wet cough.

She kneels down on the Buddha’s hands to meet his gaze, but he looks away before they can stare each other down. “Really, brother?” she sighs, “even in your final moments you disappoint me. At least look me in the eyes if you’re going to curse me here at the end.”

A beat passes. Then a second. He does not turn to face her. (Coward.)

“That brain is going to come for you when it’s all over. Do what you will with that.”

She sighs again, two more arms blinking into existence under her armpits. “You still couldn’t manage to look me in the eyes. You’re nothing more than a coward and a hypocrite under your second face.” (Take the mask with you into hell, brother.)

Her second mouth opens-

Crunch .