۶ৎ 𝐂ursed Flames ⋅ JJK

by tonixe

Summary:

A story about a female sorcerer, a fiery one with burning passion, hm?

"is she hot?"
"...what"

"𝐒𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐊𝐔 𝐍𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐄 !!"
.　　. 　 ˚　.
☄️　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 .　　　🔥 .   　　*　　 　　✦　　⛩️　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 🏮　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.
various!jjk characters x reader
© peachyryi

Chapter 1: 𝓔mber

 

⠀

ꔫ

 

 

 

 

౨ৎ . ! Welcome to 𝐂ursed Flame

this is the introduction part of the story, where your technique is being established here.

 

 

𝜗𝜚

 Your curse technique

 

.

..

...

ꔫ As you are the protagonist in 𝐂ursed Flame, your curse technique will combine flame manipulation, purification, and ritualistic control through your fans.

 

 

 

 

cursed technique 

VERMILLION WINDS  - SUZAKU NO KAZE 

 

it is a technique where your character uses cursed energy to produce flames—this revolves around purifying flames through your ritual fans, it's been passed down from your family... as you can exorcise cursed spirits, defend, and offend.

 

 

 

 ✦

 

 

 

 

core abilities

 

crimson purge - aka no joka

your flames aren't ordinary like regular flames, they're cursed purification flames that burn away negative energy, making them highly effective towards curses.

they don't spread widely either, but follow your precise movement through your ritual fans. Similarly to hinokami kagura, it is like a dance with flames.

the stronger the curse you fight, the more cursed energy you will need to burn it away completely.

 

 

 

 

scarlet fan dance - hisen no mai

you wield two ceremonial fans that are imbued with your cursed energy, using them to shape and manipulate your flames.

the fans allow you to cut through cursed techniques, dispersing barriers and negating weak domains.

if you perform a specific ritual sequence, you can seal weakened curses inside your fan instead of destroying it. By doing this it allows for you to feed off their remaining cursed energy and strengthen your fans.

 

 

 

vermillion storm - suzaku arashi

maximum technique 

 

a divine exorcism technique that creates a firestorm imbued with holy properties, incinerating all curses within its range.

a flame from the shape of a giant celestial bird like a phoenix aka Suzaku, that you can command for a brief period

**Side effect:  using this technique can burn through your cursed energy, and leave you weakened. The fire would consume you whole, burning your temperature up, and your senses would be heightened.

 

 

 

reverse cursed technique - haku-en

white ember

a rare ability where you can reverse your flames into soothing white embers that heal wounds or purge cursed energy corruption from allies.

this would make you dangerous to counter to any curses that posses a human, as you can cleanse the host without harming them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

!!! 

Binding vows and restriction

sadly, your fans are really powerful but also have restrictions, you know great power comes with great responsibilities!

 

 

 

 

 

fire of the soul - tamashi no honor

the stronger your emotions are, the stronger your flames but if you don't have control of your emotions, you don't have control of your flames.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

cursed fan pact

your flames can only be controlled using a ceremonial fan— if are broken or stolen, you cannot control your fire but 

 

I'll give a little hint

 

you can summon fire....it will be DANGEROUS and UNSTABLE to do so.

 

 

 

 

 

and your character is lowkey inspired by hibana from fire force and rangiku matsumoto from bleach, so you'll have some of their mannerisms but not her looks! <3

 

 

 

𝜗𝜚

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2: 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐀𝐍

Summary:

NEW CHAPTER, THIS IS LIKE A BACKSTORY WITH THE FANS, NOT NEEDED TO BE READ WITH THE STORY BUT YK ADVISED.

 

 

Before . !

 

 

The Vermillion Keeper—L/N Hinoka

The wind was particularly howling through the trees surrounding the village, bending their ancient limbs like they were whispering something that only Hinoka could hear—the air was thick. She tightened her grip around the wooden fans in her hands, the familiar hum of cursed energy beneath her fingertips. The winds blew her long, inky hair back, and she was dressed in traditional shrine maiden clothing, white kosode, and a red hakama.

She exhaled, before descending the shrine steps with silent grace, her sandals barely making a sound against the worn stone. The village was peacefully asleep, unaware of the growing presence lingering beyond the forest, beyond the veil separating them from the lurking creatures of the darkness.

Curses...

She spent her whole entire life exorcising them, purging the land of their tainted spirits, no matter how many she sealed, no matter how they burned to ash with her crimson fans, there was always more lurking.

At the entrance of the village, there were a handful of men standing guard, clutching their swords, their eyes darting nervously towards the trees muttered under their breath, it was fear—it was obvious to her.

"Priestess!" one of them called out as she approached them, 

"Yes?"

"We—We saw something moving in the forest. The torches barely touched it, but... it was there"

Hinoka looked at them, they were trembling as they walked, following their gaze to the treeline, where the darkness stretched endlessly. Something was watching them, she felt its gaze slithering over her skin, pressing against her rib, like an unseen hand.

A familiar sensation, she exhaled slowly—as you raised one of your fans, the suzaku sigils etched into the fabric that glowed faintly in the moonlight. 

You cleared your throat, "You have done well to stay vigilant.." she said, voice steady.

"Stand back...I'll deal with it" She finishes, the guards hesitated with her answer, torn between fear and their duties, but none of them spoke up against her, they just stepped aside, allowing her to pass out of the veil.

Hinoka walked forward, crossing the threshold of safety into the unknown, her white and crimson robes billowing behind her, as the cursed energy in the air thickened.

then—she saw it.

It was hulking, shifting from the shadows, flickering between the shapes of the different beasts—horns, claws, too many eyes blinking in and out of existence.

A manifestation of fear, and hatred—she seen these far too many times to understand these spirits.

Hinoka didn't falter, she wasn't scared nor unfazed.

She just lifted her fans, parting them like wings,

"By my name, and my blood" she intoned into her fans, suddenly the fans glowed, the cursed energy imbuing in their fans, her voice weaving through the air like a melody of war, "I command the winds to rise"

The first strike was like a whisper, a single gust slicing through the air, the cursed energy into the air, landing a clear slice, the golden sparks bursting like fireflies where the attacks landed. It lashed out from the burning pain, the monstrous limbs twisting towards her, but she was already moving—sidestepping the attacks that the curse aimed at her.

The second strike came down with a force of fire, 

Hinoka spun, her flames dancing around her hands, as the wind roared in response. 

 

"crimson purge!"

 

The cyclone of cursed flames erupted around the creature, spiraling into the sky, its screeching cries rattled the trees, but she didn't stop.

it was her duty, her purpose...

that all she has ever known,

She stares as the curse burns, reduced to nothing, but cinders and dying screams,  she stares at the curse, Hinoka remained still, her fans  folded neatly in her hands. The lingering scent of the scorched earth and ash clung to the wind, but beneath it, she could still feel the curse's remnants—its pain, fear and desperation clung into existence.

She stepped forward, kneeling at the spot where it had perished. The ground was still warm, pulsing with the remnants of power that it was made for. With a slow breath, her hands clasping together as she prays, her fingers lightly touching the cool silk of sleeves.

Her voice, speaking out softly.

"From darkness you came, and to the light you return. May the winds carry your suffering away, and may your spirit find peace beyond the earth"

The air stirred gently around her, lifting a stray ember into the sky, as if the very world acknownledge her words. The trace of the curse's existence—the hatred that had twisted it, the fear that had it bound it—began to dissipate, its ember turning into white, pureness. The last of embers fading into existence,

For a moment there was silence, as she remained kneeling, eyes closed.

No matter how monstrous, no matter how corrupted, she knew that curses were born from human emotions. Sorrow. Rage. Despair.

They were not meant to exist.

But neither had they chosen to.

She had spent her life purifying them, exorcising their pain, ensuring that they would not fester and consume the living. And yet—she sometimes wondered.

Had this curse once been someone, long ago?

Was it the grudge of a warrior left to rot on the battlefield? The anguish of a mother who lost her child? The silent suffering of a man forgotten by the world?

She would never know.

All she could do was send them away.

With a final breath, she rose to her feet, shaking off the weight that always threatened to settle on her shoulders after each prayer. The village would awaken soon, unaware of what had transpired in the night.

She stood up, 

when she leaves, the village awakens in the morning, peacefully being unaware of the dangers that have been extinguished. They would praise her, bow their heads in gratitude, and continue with their normal, daily lives, while she can only stand there and stare at their normalcy.

She exhaled. The wind quieted around her, the stillness of the night returning back again, her expression was unreadable, and walked back to the village.

 

⟡

 

The village lay quiet under the waterful gaze of the moon, its pale light bathing the thatched rooftops and the dirt path in an etheral glow. She stood at the stone steps, her long black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink.

Then there were steps behind her creaking, and she did not turn as the familiar presence of her younger sister, Yoshiko, approached.

"Your back, sister!" Yoshiko exclaimed, she just nodded at her sister's words, 

"I am"

"How was it, was it exciting," Yoshiko asked, she was always curious—wanting to be like you, but you didn't want her to be on the same path you were on, it was too dangerous, you didn't want her lightness to fade away from the brutality of the curses, the mass of death and mere blood that is shed.

"It was...the same, I did my job" She responded back, Yoshiko nodded, and there was a beat of silence,

"But..You're still out here," Yoshiko murmured, a mere blanket hugging around her shoulders, "The night is cold.."

Hinako exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon—the sun was coming up.  She didn't realize how long she was out here, letting the wind drag through her long hair like it was telling her something.

"The wind is restless" she responded back to her sister, 

Yoshiko just frowned, "A bad omen?" she questioned, curious laced in her voice.

"Perhaps.."

 There was a pause before Yoshiko took another step forward to you, "...Sister, do you ever wish for something more?" she asked, her voice quiet.

Hinoka turned to her, her e/c eyes meeting Yoshiko  softer brown ones,

'something more?"

did she...

As long as she could remember, she had been bound to this path. Trained to wield fans, trained to seal curses, trained to walk between the world of the living and the dead, balance on the seemingly thin thread of duty that was dictating her existence.

She belongs to the shrine, 

She didn't answer, instead just reaching out, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from Yoshiko’s face, 

"The sun will rise soon," She said, "You should rest...Yoshiko"

Yoshiko sighed, knowing better than to press her further, "You should, too"

Hinoka only smiled faintly, watching as her sister retreated down the steps, back into the safety of their home.

Something more than this...

She again to the rising sun coming up the horizon, the once ink and midnight blue sky, slowly changing into orange, and pink-ish tones.

 

⟡

 

The morning sun bathed the shrine into the golden glow, illuminating the intricate carving along the wooden pillar and the soft ripples of wind chimes that sang with the breeze. The scent of the burning incense mingling with the crisp mountain air, carrying a quiet reverence through the temple ground.

Hinoka moved through the sacred space with practice grace, as she moved graciously through the temple, her vermillion sleeves trailing behind her as she carried a woven basket of medicinal herbs. The dawn had barely touched the sky, and she was already begun her daily rituals—tending to the unseen sacred flames, as she swept the stone pathways, and preparing offerings for the unseen.

By the time the first villagers arrived, the shrine was already alive with the steady hum of nature, the rustling of trees, and the gentle sound of water trickling through the purification fountain.

Hinoka knelt before the main altar, placing a carefully wrapped bundle of herbs on the wooden offering tray. The shrine's main hall stood behind her, its sliding doors partially open to reveal an array of ancient relics—prayer scrolls, aged talismans, and ceremonial tools passed down through generations. A sacred space, untouched by time.

She pressed her hands together, bowing her head slightly as she whispered a silent prayer.

"May this land be purified. May the suffering be eased. May the restless find peace."

Her words dissolved into the morning air, carried away by the breeze.

The sound of footsteps—Hinoka straightened, her sharp eyes lifting to the temple's entrance, where the first of the villagers had begun to gather.

She got up from the main altrar, turning to see a elderly women who was knelting on the stone steps, her lips moving in hushed gratitude for another day of life. A young mother cradled a silk-wrapped bundle in her arms, her face pale, worry etched into every line. A farmer, his stance hesitant, lingered at the threshold, shifting uncomfortably as if an invisible weight pressed upon his shoulders.

To anyone else, these were ordinary people with ordinary troubles.

But Hinoka wasn't anyone else.

She saw them, 

the spirits...

Darkened figures clung to the villagers like unwanted shadows—wispy and amorphous, their hollow forms writhing as if caught between this world and the next. Some wept soundlessly, their mouths opening in unheard cries. Others simply loomed, their faceless presence stretching unnaturally behind their human hosts.

Spirits. Curses. The remnants of lingering sorrow, feeding off the warmth of the living.

"You should not be here."

Her voice was calm, yet the command within it was absolute.

At once, the spirits recoiled, their whispers growing frantic, their forms flickering like candlelight caught in a harsh wind. Some of them had been here for days, others for years. Clinging. Feasting, waiting for their demise.

With a flick of her wrist, she unfurled her fan, its lacquered surface gleaming in the morning light, the intricate red and gold patterns dancing with the movement. She traced a suzaku sigil in the air, a motion as effortless as breathing.

The wind stirred around her feet, a soft but growing hum filling the space between her and the spirits.

"Return to where you belong,".

A faint pulse radiated from the paper charms lining the shrine's entrance—handwritten sutras infused with sacred energy. At once, a wave of light erupted from them, sweeping over the courtyard like ripples in water. The spirits shrieked, their hollow forms writhing violently before being consumed by the purifying glow.

One by one, they unraveled into nothingness.

The weight in the air lifted.

Hinoka exhaled quietly, her fingers brushing over the hilt of her tucked-away fan before she slipped it back into her obi. The villagers, though unaware of what had just transpired, instinctively relaxed. The old woman's hunched shoulders straightened, the mother's frantic grip on her child loosened, and the farmer released a deep breath he hadn't known he was holding.

They did not understand what had been burdening them.

They only knew that, suddenly, they felt lighter.

And that was enough.

Hinoka turned her gaze to the young mother first, stepping toward her. The woman's face was still clouded with distress, her hands trembling as she rocked the small bundle in her arms.

"Your child," Hinoka said softly, reaching out. "May I?"

The woman hesitated, then quickly nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she carefully placed the baby into Hinoka's waiting arms.

Hinoka cradled the infant with practiced ease, her touch gentle yet firm. The child was feverish, their tiny face flushed with heat. She pressed her fingertips lightly against the baby's forehead, murmuring another prayer under her breath.

A faint shimmer of energy passed between them.

Then, as if in response, the fever began to wane. The child's tense body relaxed, the uneven breaths settling into a steadier rhythm. By the time Hinoka returned the infant to the mother's arms, the panic in the woman's face had softened into something else—relief.

"Thank you," the mother whispered, bowing deeply.

Hinoka merely inclined her head. 

"Rest well, both of you."

She turned next to the farmer, who had been lingering awkwardly in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"You came seeking guidance?" she asked.

The man hesitated, then nodded. "I... I keep losing my crops, Lady Hinoka. My fields, no matter how much I tend to them, something always goes wrong. My animals grow sick. It's like my land is cursed."

Hinoka studied him, her gaze sharp, assessing.

And then she saw it—the faint remnants of a spiritual presence still clinging to his back.

A particularly stubborn one.

She sighed. "You should have come sooner."

The man swallowed thickly. "Can it be... fixed?"

Hinoka reached into her sleeve, pulling out another paper talisman. She pressed it to the man's shoulder without hesitation, the sacred ink glowing faintly against the aged parchment.

"You will be fine," she assured him, before flicking her fingers.

The charm ignited in a brief flash of golden light.

The spirit's remnants disintegrated instantly.

The farmer flinched, then blinked as if suddenly realizing the weight that had been pressing on him was gone. His expression shifted from uncertainty to something like awe.

He bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched the ground. 

"Thank you, Lady Hinoka."

She just gave him a small nod, already moving towards her next task.

 

.

 

The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the shrine's stone path as more villagers came seeking guidance. Some carried offerings of rice and fruit, small tokens of gratitude left at the altar. Others arrived with heavier burdens—ailments, misfortune, grief.

Hinoka attended to them all.

With every prayer, every exorcism, every whispered reassurance, she felt the weight of her duty settle deeper into her bones. This was what she was born to do—to cleanse, to protect, to shoulder the unseen burdens others could not.

By midday, a cool breeze rolled through the temple grounds, stirring the sacred bells tied along the eaves. The villagers had come and gone, their troubles momentarily eased, their souls lighter. Hinoka stood near the purification fountain, dipping her hands into the cool water, watching as ripples distorted her reflection.

Her face looked calm, as it always did.

Yet beneath the surface, there was something else.

A quiet exhaustion.

A loneliness she could never name.

The shrine was peaceful now, emptied of visitors. The only sound was the distant chirping of cicadas and the rustling of trees swaying with the wind. But Hinoka was never truly alone.

The spirits never left.

Even now, she could feel them lingering beyond the sacred grounds, watching from the edge of the forest, waiting in the abandoned corners of the village. Some were restless. Some were vengeful. Some had long forgotten what it meant to be human.

Hinoka reached into her sleeve, pulling out a folded paper talisman. With practiced ease, she pressed it against her palm, murmuring a quiet invocation. The parchment shimmered for a brief moment before vanishing into the wind.

A silent warning to the wandering spirits: Stay back.

She sighed, tilting her head toward the sky.

Would there ever be a day when she would no longer need to do this?

Would there ever be a day when she could live without this duty pressing down on her shoulders?

A foolish thought.

Hinoka had long accepted her fate.

 

⟡

 

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over the temple grounds as Hinoka finished her daily duties. The scent of burning incense lingered in the air, mixing with the faint fragrance of the sacred wisteria that surrounded the shrine. She had spent the morning tending to the villagers—purifying homes, tending to the sick, and offering prayers for the restless spirits that clung to them. Only she could see them, the cursed remnants of sorrow, anger, and regret that plagued the living. And only she could release them.

Her long, flowing robes trailed behind her as she made her way toward the main hall of the temple, where a neatly folded letter rested atop the wooden offering table. The paper was rough, hand-pressed, and carried the faintest scent of ink and sweat—someone had written it in haste. Hinoka picked it up, her e/c eyes scanning the words penned by an unfamiliar hand.

It was a plea.

A village far beyond the hills, nestled near the shadow of the mountains, had been suffering under the presence of a terrible curse. Their crops had withered, livestock had been slaughtered in the dead of night, and the people lived in fear, barricading their homes at sunset. The village chief himself had written to her, addressing her as the only one capable of exorcising the monster that plagued them.

.

Esteemed Priestess Hinoka,

Darkness has taken hold of our village. Men vanish in the dead of night, only for their remains to be found days later—mutilated beyond recognition. Women disappear without a trace, their fates unknown. We do not know if it is a beast, a demon, or something far worse, but we are helpless against it.

It a monster in the shape of a man, eyes like fire, a grin full of fangs. He walks among the trees, laughing as we cower. We do not know what he is, only that he is not human

The people are terrified. We are not warriors, nor are we sorcerers—we do not possess the strength to fight whatever haunts us. We have prayed, we have hidden, yet nothing stops the bloodshed.

Please, I beg you, come to our aid before there is no one left to save.

You are our last hope.

—Village Chief, Takemura

.

Hinoka exhaled softly, rolling the letter between her fingers. She had seen this pattern before. A place that had drawn the attention of a powerful curse—a presence so overwhelming that it bent the very land to its will. Ordinary sorcerers or monks could do nothing against it, and now they turned to her.

The letter was written in frantic, uneven strokes, the ink smudged in places as if the chief's hands had been shaking.

She sat down on the writing tab, as she laid down the emaki onto it, her calligraphy pen in hand as she wrote to the village chief,

 

I have received your letter and understand the urgency of your plea. The horrors you describe are unknown to me. The being you have witnessed—the one who walks among the trees, whose laughter chills your bones—is no mere beast. 

You are not the first to suffer from these spiritual beings, nor will you be the last. I will set out at once to your village. Prepare a place for me to stay and keep your people inside at night. Do not attempt to confront the thing that haunts your village yourselves. Steel and fire will not harm what lurks beyond your understanding.

I will do what I can.

May the gods watch over you until I arrive.

— Priestess Hinoka,

 

She stepped outside the temple doors, feeling the evening breeze sweep past her, rustling the sleeves of her priestess robes. The sky was shifting, warm hues fading into the first traces of twilight. She could refuse. She could ignore the letter and stay within the safety of her shrine, continuing her work here, tending to those she had already sworn to protect.

But that would be the easy choice. And she had never been one to choose the easy path.

Hinoka turned back toward the temple, gathering what she needed. Her ceremonial fans passed down through generations, were laid carefully on a woven mat. 

Sliding the twin fans into the sash at her waist, she gathered a small satchel of medicinal herbs, bandages, and sacred talismans. If this curse was as strong as the village claimed, she would need everything at her disposal.

By the time she stepped off the temple grounds, the moon had risen, casting its pale glow over the dirt path ahead. 

Curse spirts..

what a hassle..

 

⟡

 

Chapter 3: 𝐟oribidden

Summary:

NEW CHAPTER, THIS IS LIKE A BACKSTORY WITH THE FANS, NOT NEEDED TO BE READ WITH THE STORY BUT YK ADVISED.

 

౨ৎ - traveling  

 

 

⟡

 

Hinoka's footsteps echoed softly on the path leading away from the temple, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on the quiet landscape around her. The air felt thick with the weight of the unknown, a heaviness that seemed to press against her chest with each step she took. 

She had received the village chief's letter days ago, but the urgency of the plea had only grown stronger in her mind as she traveled. The curse that plagued the village was unlike anything she had encountered before. It wasn't simply a monstrous beast or a restless spirit—it was something more sinister, something that felt as though it had roots deep in the very earth itself.

As she ventured further into the forest, the wind began to pick up, whispering through the trees. It carried with it an unsettling chill, and the branches swayed in eerie rhythm, as though beckoning her toward the heart of the cursed village. The deeper she went, the more the landscape seemed to change. The once tranquil surroundings now felt ominous, every shadow stretched long and twisted, every rustle in the leaves like the soft footsteps of something following her.

The letter described a monster—eyes like fire, a grin full of fangs—walking among the trees, laughing as it terrorized the villagers. Hinoka had never encountered a being like that, not one that resembled anything human, and certainly not one that carried such malice. The villagers were terrified, helpless in the face of something so powerful and relentless. They had sent for her, their last hope, but Hinoka couldn't help but wonder if there was more to this curse than met the eye.

The village chief's frantic words still echoed in her mind. 

"It's not human," he had written. 

"A beast, a demon, something worse. A monster in the shape of a man..."

It was a mystery, one that Hinoka would need to unravel once she reached the village. She had seen curses of all kinds—spirits, even humans twisted by the power of dark magic—but something told her that this was no ordinary threat. She had never known a curse to be so specific, so intent on terrorizing the innocent.

The path seemed endless, each step dragging her further into the dense forest. She had been traveling for hours, the night deepening around her as the cool breeze began to bite at her skin. Yet, despite the eerie silence of the surroundings, Hinoka was no stranger to danger. 

Her eyes were sharp, and her senses were honed by years of training and battle. She could feel the subtle shift in the air as she neared the village—something was different. The atmosphere felt... suffocating, as though the very air was charged with malice.

By the time she reached the outskirts of the village, the moon was high in the sky, casting a soft silver light over the deserted streets. The usual sounds of a village at night—the chirping of crickets, the low murmur of voices from distant homes—were absent. Instead, there was a profound silence, a stillness that felt unnatural.

The village chief, Takemura, met her near the center of the village, his face drawn with exhaustion and fear. His eyes were wide, his movements erratic, as though the weight of the terror that had gripped his people was too much for him to bear.

"Priestess Hinoka," he said in a hoarse voice, bowing deeply. "Thank you for answering our plea. But..." His voice trailed off, and he glanced nervously toward the edge of the village, where the dark forest loomed ominously.

"Where is the last victim?" Hinoka asked, cutting him off. Her tone was firm, and her gaze remained steady, focused.

Takemura hesitated, his eyes flickering to the trees. "He was taken near the edge of the forest, just last night. We... we've tried everything. We've closed our doors, we've hidden, but... the creature comes for us all the same. No one is safe. Not even the children."

Hinoka nodded, her expression cold and resolute. 

Hinoka stepped through the village gates, she immediately noticed the difference in atmosphere. The stillness of the air was thick, almost suffocating, as if the village itself was holding its breath. The homes were dark, doors closed tight, windows sealed, and not a single soul could be seen on the streets. A sharp contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of a village in the late evening.

The chief, Takemura, walked closely beside her, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. His eyes were constantly flicking toward the shadows, as though he feared something might leap out at any moment. There was a sense of dread that lingered in the air, a heavy silence that seemed to follow her every step.

"Priestess Hinoka," Takemura said, his voice trembling slightly, "please, allow me to show you to the guest house. You must rest after your long journey. We can speak further in the morning."

Hinoka nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze sweeping over the darkened village. "Rest will be necessary, but the matter at hand cannot wait. The creature roams these woods, and it will not stop until it is faced."

Takemura gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as though he understood the urgency in her tone. He turned and led the way down a narrow path, the lanterns hanging from the eaves of the homes casting faint glows that barely penetrated the thick darkness. His footsteps were soft on the dirt, and his hands twitched at his sides, clearly anxious.

They arrived at a modest but well-kept house on the edge of the village, its thatched roof and wooden walls showing signs of age but still standing firm. The door was opened swiftly by an older woman, who bowed deeply upon seeing Hinoka.

"Welcome, Priestess," the woman said warmly, though there was a nervousness in her voice that was hard to miss. "We've prepared a place for you to rest. Please, come inside. The night is too dangerous to be out any longer."

Hinoka nodded and entered the small home, taking in the modest furnishings—a low wooden table, futons neatly arranged, and an offering of fruit and rice set before a small shrine in the corner. The room smelled faintly of incense, a comforting fragrance that contrasted sharply with the oppressive atmosphere outside.

Takemura stepped inside with her, bowing his head slightly. "This is the safest place in the village. The people are too terrified to even leave their homes, but we are doing our best to prepare for the worst."

Hinoka glanced at him, her sharp eyes noticing the weariness in his posture, the dark circles under his eyes. "I will not stay for long. Rest is necessary, but the curse must be confronted as soon as possible," she said, her voice steady, though it carried the weight of her resolve. "So, did you listen to what you should do in my letter"

Takemura nods, his lips trembling slightly. "The villagers are all hiding in their homes. We've taken measures and followed waht you said, but... it's no use. The curse—whatever it is—always comes. It picks us off one by one, no matter where we hide."

Hinoka's gaze hardened. "Then we will stop it. We cannot allow it to continue."

The woman who had opened the door spoke again, her voice soft but filled with worry. "There's one thing, Priestess, that we fear. It's not just the creature. It's... it's something more. A presence that watches us. It's as if we are being hunted, rather than simply killed."

Hinoka's eyes narrowed, her fingers lightly brushing the fan at her waist. "Tell me more. What have you seen?"

Takemura looked hesitant, but after a long moment, he spoke. "It's difficult to describe. People have said they hear something—something like a low growl, a whisper in the wind, but it's never clear. Some of the villagers have claimed to see the figure lurking just outside their windows. Others say they've felt its eyes upon them, even when they are safely inside."

Hinoka's heart stilled for a moment. This wasn't just a curse. There was something darker here, something far more cunning and malevolent than a simple monster or spirit.

"I will stay here for the night," Hinoka finally said, breaking the silence. "But tomorrow, I will venture into the woods. I will track this creature down and face it."

Takemura seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at her words. "Thank you, Priestess. You're our only hope."

Hinoka nodded in acknowledgment before turning her attention to the woman who had greeted her at the door. "I'll rest, but do not hesitate to wake me if anything occurs during the night," she said firmly. The woman nodded, her eyes wide with respect and fear.

As Hinoka settled onto the futon, her senses remained alert, every sound outside the home amplified in the silence of the night.

Unfolding the letters of Takemura, and studying it. 

This curse...hm,

Hinoka's body lay still on the futon, but her mind was sharp, a constant hum of awareness as she listened for any disturbances. The wind outside whispered through the trees, carrying with it an unsettling chill. But there was nothing—no sounds of footsteps, no flickers of movement at the edge of her vision. Even the village seemed to hold its breath.

The frantic words written in haste. The descriptions of the creature, the mutilated bodies, the villagers' terror—it all felt familiar in a way that made her blood run cold. This wasn't the work of an ordinary curse. There was something far more malicious at play, something deeply woven into the fabric of this land.

She pondered the possibility of a rogue curse, one that had grown beyond the control of any sorcerer or exorcist. But no. There was something more. The mention of the "eyes like fire" and the creature's sinister grin stuck with her. It sounded like an intelligence, a malevolent force that reveled in its power to terrorize. It was as if the curse itself were not just a mindless spirit but a being with purpose.

But now, she had to rest for tomorrow. 

 

⟡

 

As dawn broke over the village, the first rays of light filtered through the paper walls of the house. Hinoka's senses were heightened, the quiet of the morning offering no comfort. The village remained eerily still as she rose from her futon, slipping into her robes and adjusting the twin ceremonial fans at her waist. There was no time for complacency. The curse would not wait.

When she stepped outside, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and lingering mist. The village was still, but the silence had shifted—now it felt suffocating, oppressive. Takemura was waiting for her, his features drawn tight with exhaustion and worry.

"I've prepared a small meal for you," Takemura said, his voice soft but urgent. "You'll need your strength for the journey into the woods."

Hinoka nodded, accepting the small bowl of rice and pickled vegetables, though her appetite had long since been replaced by the sharp focus that came with dealing with something as dangerous as a cursed spirit. She ate in silence, her eyes constantly scanning the village. The houses, dark and shuttered, gave off the feeling of a place abandoned by hope.

Once she finished, she stood, brushing off the crumbs from her hands. Takemura led her into the center of the village, where a few of the older villagers had gathered. Their faces were marked with weariness and fear, their hands clasped in prayer as they whispered to the gods for protection.

Hinoka's gaze swept over them, and then turned to Takemura, "I have reread your letter, tell me more of this—monster or creature that haunts this villiage. The more I know, the better I can confront it"

Takemura swallowed hard, the fear still evident in his eyes. "We have seen it in the woods. It moves quickly, silently, and when it appears, there is always an ominous presence, a feeling that something is watching us. Some say it looks like a man, others say it is a monster.

Hinoka's eyes narrowed, "Hm, man and monster" she paused, considering the words together.

"Have..anyone who saw it, survived the encounter with it?" She asked,

Takemura's face grew grim. "There was one. A young woman, Natsume.. She saw the creature up close and survived—though she has not spoken since. She sits by the fire all day, her eyes vacant, as if the curse took something from her soul. She—"

Hinoka didn't wait for him to finish. She was already walking toward the edge of the village, her pace quickening as she approached the small hut where the woman was said to reside. Takemura followed closely, his steps hesitant.

The door of the hut creaked open at her touch, and inside, by the hearth, sat a woman—perhaps in her early twenties—with long, disheveled hair. Her eyes were distant, staring at the flickering flames, as if lost in a world beyond their reach. She wore tattered clothing, and her skin was pale, almost sickly.

Hinoka knelt before her, her expression softening. "What did you see?" she asked gently, her voice like the calm before a storm. "Tell me what happened. I can help you."

The woman's gaze shifted slowly to Hinoka. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, but there was recognition there, a flicker of something more than the hollow stare she had shown the villagers. Her lips trembled, and after a long silence, she spoke in a barely audible whisper.

She watched as her eyes became glassy as if the young women was reliving the event in her head, "It—he..it smiled at me..taking me into the woods.." the women said, her voice breaking with every word.

"Then..he took me somewhere, and—" she stopped, and put her head down, as she cried.

Hinoka's heart twisted at the woman's pain, but she remained composed, her gaze steady and focused. She reached out, placing a hand on the young woman's shoulder gently, offering a quiet comfort in the midst of her terror.

"You don't have to speak if it's too much," Hinoka said softly, her voice a low murmur. "But you can tell me, if you wish. I won't let him hurt you again."

The woman's shoulders trembled beneath Hinoka's touch, her sobs wracking her body as she struggled to find the words. Slowly, after what seemed like an eternity, she looked back up, her eyes filled with the deep, haunted look of someone who had witnessed something far beyond the scope of normal understanding.

"It... it spoke to me," she whispered, her voice shaky. "It said it wanted to... play with me. It—" Her eyes glazed over again, as if she was slipping back into that moment. "It wanted to hurt me... to make me scream. It—he... made me feel so small... so powerless."

Hinoka's brow furrowed as she listened. The creature wasn't just attacking the villagers—it was tormenting them, breaking them down piece by piece. The details the woman spoke of, the sensation of helplessness, were like a curse in itself, an attack on the spirit.

"What happened after that?" Hinoka asked, her voice soft but firm, coaxing the woman to speak. "What did he do to you?"

The young woman's face contorted in pain, her breath quickening as she relived the experience. "He... he smiled the whole time," she managed, her voice barely a whisper.

The woman's lips quivered, and for a long moment, it seemed she might slip into a deep silence again. Then, with a shudder, she managed to speak.

"It wasn't just one thing. It was like... he became everything at once. A man, a beast, a... a monster with a face full of teeth. Eyes like fire, and... and claws. He... he was everything and nothing at the same time. He wanted me to be afraid... but I couldn't—I couldn't stop staring at him."

Hinoka took a deep breath, her mind racing. She had never encountered a curse quite like this. It was alive, aware, calculating—and far more dangerous than she had anticipated.

"I will stop him," Hinoka said, more to herself than to anyone else. The woman's terror was etched deeply into her heart, but Hinoka's determination only grew stronger. This creature had taken far too much already, and Hinoka wasn't about to let it destroy anymore.

She stood, pulling away from Natsume gently. "Rest here. Stay hidden. Keep your strength," she instructed softly. "I'll deal with this."

As they walked out, back into the outside of the women's house.

"And...Priestess—she didn't tell you this, but when he found her in the forest, her clothes were tattered, and she was just still. There was blood, but she wasn't hear—I believe that she was raped.."

Her eyes narrowed, the thought alone sent chills down her spine. It was not merely physical torment the creature had inflicted upon this woman; there was something far darker at play, something that twisted not only the body but the mind as well.

"I see," Hinoka murmured, her voice low and measured. The silence between them grew thick, the weight of the situation pressing down on her like a physical burden. A curse that could strip someone of their will, leave them as little more than an empty shell—it was as if the creature fed not only on fear but on the very essence of a person's soul.

She straightened, her posture rigid with resolve. "Prepare yourself, Takemura. I will find this creature, and I will stop it. But if what you say is true, this curse is no ordinary spirit. It is far more insidious."

Hinoka turned toward the edge of the village, her gaze unwavering. She could feel the pull of the cursed presence drawing her toward the woods, toward the creature that had become more than a mere threat. 

The sky was turnign slowly from it's blue color into a the pink-ish, orange tones. It was going to be night soon, she had to prepare for the exorcising...

"I will go now," Hinoka said, her voice firm. "Gather the villagers. Make sure they are all hidden, locked away in their homes until I return. No one must leave the safety of their walls. Not tonight."

Takemura hesitated, then nodded, gratitude and fear reflected in his eyes. "Thank you, Priestess. May the gods guide you."

Hinoka did not respond. There was no need for words anymore. She had made her decision.

With swift, deliberate steps, she walked towards the edge of the village, the weight of the task ahead pressing against her every step. The forest loomed before her, dark and foreboding. The trees seemed to whisper in the wind, their branches reaching out as if to warn her. But Hinoka did not pause. 

just continued...

 

⟡

 

As she entered the forest, the air grew colder, thicker with the presence of something unnatural. The scent of decay and damp earth filled her senses, and the faint sounds of distant footsteps—too heavy to be animal, too erratic to be human—echoed through the trees. 

Then—

The curse loomed in front of Hinoka, its form taking on the shape of a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing eyes that gleamed in the dim light of the forest. His features were sharp, chiseled, almost too perfect. His hair was long and dark, flowing like ink in the night air. He stood with an air of arrogance, his presence radiating malevolent energy, a sharp contrast to his seemingly human appearance.

As Hinoka approached, the curse smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was predatory, full of sharp teeth that gleamed like daggers.

"Well, well, well," he purred, his voice low and smooth, like silk against her skin. "The famous priestess. I've heard much about you. But I never thought I'd have the honor of meeting you face to face. You're far more beautiful than I imagined, though I must say... it's a shame that such beauty will end in death."

Hinoka's eyes narrowed, her grip on her fans tightening. The curse was taunting her, trying to get under her skin, to distract her. But she wouldn't let it. She had dealt with far worse—curses that fed on fear, curses that tried to break her spirit. She wasn't about to fall for this one's tricks.

"You're not a man," she said coldly, her voice steady. "You're a curse. And your appearance means nothing to me."

The curse chuckled, his laughter rich and deep, like the sound of a storm rolling in. "Oh, how cold. I'm only trying to be polite. I don't understand why people like you are always so angry." He took a step toward her, his expression playful. "But perhaps you'll warm up to me after I show you just how powerful I am."

Without warning, the curse lunged forward, his movements unnaturally quick. His hand reached out, fingers like claws, aiming straight for her throat. Hinoka was ready. She sidestepped the attack, her fans flashing in the moonlight as she sliced through the air, narrowly missing his arm.

"Too slow," the curse taunted, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're good, but not good enough."

Hinoka didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. She was calm, focused. The curse might look like a man, but beneath the facade, it was still just a twisted creature, fueled by malice and hunger. She wasn't here to entertain it.

With a swift motion, she twirled her fans in a circle, summoning a surge of spiritual energy. The wind around her seemed to pick up, sharp and cutting, as her power built up. The curse tried to dodge, but it was too late. Hinoka unleashed a torrent of energy in a concentrated burst, the wind cutting through the air with the force of a blade.

The curse staggered back, surprised, but quickly regained his composure. He wiped the blood from his mouth, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that. But do you really think you can kill me so easily?"

Hinoka's eyes flashed with determination. "I don't need to kill you easily. I just need to kill you."

Before the curse could react, she moved in an instant, her fans slashing through the air with deadly precision. The curse tried to block, but Hinoka was too fast. Her attack cut through his side, and he gasped in pain, his body momentarily faltering.

"You think I'm just some monster for you to play with?" he sneered, but there was a trace of fear in his voice now.

Hinoka didn't answer. She was done listening to its taunts. She raised her fans once more, her spiritual energy surging to its peak. 

With a swift motion, she raised both of her fans, drawing on the cursed energy deep within her. Flames erupted from the fans, twisting and spinning into the air, forming a swirling vortex of crimson fire. The fire wasn't like normal flames—it was a purification flame, burning with the power to cleanse and destroy all that it touched.

"Crimson Purge—No Joka!" Hinoka commanded, her voice firm and calm.

The flames erupted forward in a perfect circle, spiraling out from her fans as she danced with fluid, controlled movements. The curse's monstrous form was instantly engulfed by the crimson flames, but it did not scream in agony. Instead, it twisted and writhed, absorbing the flames into its body, its form shifting and growing stronger.

"A mere flame won't defeat me," the curse growled, its form growing in size as the flames fed it. "You're wasting your time, priestess."

Hinoka didn't hesitate. She twirled one of her fans in a sharp arc, slashing through the air in a fluid motion. The flames responded instantly, following the curve of the fan's movement, cutting through the air in a controlled blaze.

"Scarlet Fan Dance—Hisen no Mai!" she whispered, a surge of energy pulsing through her.

The flames obeyed her every command, sharp and precise, as they cut through the curse's resistance, burning away its twisted limbs. The curse howled, but Hinoka could feel the heat rising within her. She wasn't done yet.

The curse flailed as it tried to shift out of the fire's reach, but Hinoka wasn't going to let it escape. She stepped forward, her fans slicing through the air as she created a new shape for her flames.

She gathered the cursed energy in her core, feeling it swirl within her, boiling and intense. Her body felt the weight of the energy, but she didn't stop. She wouldn't stop until the curse was vanquished.

"Vermillion Storm—Suzaku Arashi!" she cried.

In an instant, the air crackled with energy, the ground beneath her feet trembling as a massive bird-shaped phoenix of flame erupted from the fans. The flames, now imbued with holy properties, soared toward the curse, an unstoppable force of destruction. The phoenix screeched as it barreled toward the creature, surrounding it with flames so hot they seemed to burn the very air itself.

The curse screamed as the flames consumed it, twisting and contorting into nothingness. The powerful firestorm roared, churning and tearing through the cursed being with ferocity. The sky above seemed to darken as the celestial fire burned everything in its wake.

The curse tried to fight, to escape, but it was no use. The flames were too strong. Its form crumbled, disintegrating into ash as the divine fire consumed its very existence.

Hinoka stood still, her breath heavy, as the flames slowly began to die down. Her energy was spent, her body beginning to feel the aftereffects of using such a powerful technique. The air was thick with the scent of scorched earth, and the once-threatening presence of the curse had vanished.

She staggered slightly, her fans still raised, but she remained standing. The aftermath of the battle was silent, the forest now eerily quiet in the wake of the storm she had summoned.

Hinoka took a deep breath, her eyes closed for a moment. Her body was trembling, but she would not let the exhaustion claim her. Not yet. She slowly lowered her fans, her energy still crackling faintly in the air. The curse was gone, but the fight had drained her. She needed to rest, but first...

Hinoka looked around at the destruction, her gaze cold and steady. 

The curse was no more, and the forest had been purified.

 She had done what she had come here to do...

 

⟡

 

Chapter 4: 𝐛uckle

Summary:

NEW CHAPTER, THIS IS LIKE A BACKSTORY WITH THE FANS, NOT NEEDED TO BE READ WITH THE STORY BUT YK ADVISED.

 

⟡

 

Hinoka's legs buckled slightly as the last remnants of the divine fire dissipated into the night air. Her chest heaved with each shallow breath, the weight of her exhaustion settling over her like a heavy cloak. The battle had taken everything—she had given all of her cursed energy into that storm, using the full extent of her technique, and now she felt the toll it had taken on her body.

The air around her was still thick with the afterburn of the flames, the faint smell of scorched earth lingering. Her body felt hot, too hot, as if the firestorm she had summoned had singed her from the inside out. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and despite the chill of the night, her skin was burning.

She stumbled, one hand instinctively reaching out to steady herself against a nearby tree. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to stay upright. The world spun slightly, but she knew she couldn't afford to lose consciousness here, not with the forest still unsettled, not with her task unfinished.

Slowly, Hinoka straightened, though her legs wobbled beneath her. She could feel the exhaustion seeping deeper into her bones, the lack of energy weighing down her movements. Her hands trembled as she lowered her fans, the once-graceful tools now heavy in her grasp.

She needed to rest. But there was still a part of her—some stubborn, unwavering piece—that refused to allow her to stop. She had come here for a reason, and she wouldn't let herself fail. Not now, not after everything.

She took a slow step forward, then another, forcing her body to move despite the overwhelming fatigue. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her mind screamed at her to stop, to lie down, to recover. But she couldn't. The curse was gone, yes, but the village still needed her. The people she had sworn to protect were still out there, and they depended on her.

Her vision blurred again, and this time, her knees buckled. She fell to the ground on one knee, a sharp pain in her side from the strain of the technique.

"Just a little longer," she murmured to herself, her voice hoarse. "Just... a little longer..."

Hinoka gritted her teeth, fighting the dizziness and nausea that threatened to overtake her. She could still feel the curse's presence lingering faintly in the air, even though it had been eradicated. 

Hinoka staggered as her legs trembled beneath her, her body still heavy with exhaustion from the powerful technique she had just unleashed. The flames of the Vermillion Storm had burned through her cursed energy like a violent inferno, and now all that remained was a bone-deep weariness that made each movement feel like a struggle. She could barely keep her eyes open, her vision swimming with dizziness, but she kept herself moving, one slow step after another, unwilling to let herself collapse in the middle of the forest.

Her breath came in shallow, labored gasps, 

As she stumbled forward, her hand reaching for the nearest tree to steady herself, The crackling of her flames from the exorcism was the only sound that echoed through the trees. But then, she felt it—another shift in the air. A presence.

Her fingers curled around the handle of one of her ritual fans, her sense flared up. Turning herself swiftly to steady herself again.

The air felt charged with tension, suffocating even. No sound, no rustle of leaves, just an unsettling, omnipresent silence. Hinoka hated it—the feeling that she was being watched by something lurking just beyond her reach.

Then, a shadow emerged from the trees. The figure was tall, a dark silhouette in the dimming light, moving with slow, purposeful steps. Every inch of him seemed calculated, his presence undeniable, drawing her attention without effort.

A second figure appeared behind him, smaller but just as dangerous. She said nothing, but her cold, calculating eyes fixed firmly on Hinoka, and it made her skin crawl.

Hinoka's grip tightened on her fan, her stance shifting into something defensive, a silent promise to herself that she'd fight if she had to. "Who are you?" she called out, her voice steady, but the unease still slipped through.

The tall man paused, a curious look flickering in his eyes as they roamed over her. There was an unnerving air about him—like he was evaluating her, not with respect, but like she was just another piece of entertainment.

 "Who am I?" His voice was calm, almost too calm. 

"You don't know me?"

Hinoka frowned, confusion flickering through her expression. His question left her rattled, but she kept her composure. 

"I've never seen you before in my life," she shot back firmly, her tone demanding answers.

A low chuckle escaped the man, his gaze still fixed on her with unnerving interest. "Interesting," he murmured, his voice sounding like he was more amused than anything.

The smaller figure, standing in the shadow of the tall man, finally spoke. "You're in no condition to be making a fight," they said, their voice sharp, with an authority that seemed to freeze the air around them. "You should rest."

Hinoka's eyes narrowed. "I'm not a weakling you can push around," she shot back, trying to keep her voice steady despite the nagging feeling in her gut. 

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

The tall man smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was the kind of smile that sent chills down her spine. "What do I want? Curiosity, mostly. You're strong, aren't you?" His eyes gleamed with something that could almost be described as admiration—but it only made her feel more uneasy. "A presence like yours... I'm curious."

Hinoka's grip on her fan tightened, her instincts screaming that this man was dangerous. She didn't know what he was, but it was clear he wasn't normal. And the woman beside him was no better—her eyes, cold and calculating, made Hinoka feel as though she was being weighed, measured for something.

"I don't care about your curiosity," Hinoka snapped, ignoring the unease gnawing at her. "Leave. Now."

The tall man's smile deepened, and his eyes darkened. "You'll regret not listening to me," he said quietly, but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. "But fine. I won't force you to listen. For now."

The tension between them hung thick in the air, like it might snap at any moment. Hinoka held her ground, her mind racing as she tried to read the man, to understand what he wanted, but it was like trying to decipher a riddle. He was powerful, that much was clear, but he was playing some kind of game—one she didn't fully understand.

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering her. Then he spoke again, his tone almost... bored. "You're something... different," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Hinoka stared at him, still trying to make sense of everything. 

"Who are you?" she asked again, more forcefully this time, her patience wearing thin.

The tall man's gaze never wavered, and his steps grew closer, making the air around her feel even more suffocating. "Sukuna," he said, his voice laced with boredom, as though saying his name was an afterthought. He paused, watching her closely. "And this"—he waved vaguely to the woman beside him—"is Uraume."

"And why should I care?"

Sukuna's smile widened, but it wasn't friendly. "You don't have to care. Not yet." His eyes flicked to Uraume, as though bored with the conversation. "We've got better things to do."

Hinoka blinked, 

He was losing interest.

Uraume gave a brief, sharp nod, and without another word, they turned, as if the encounter was no longer worth their time.

Sukuna, walking away, muttered under his breath, 

"You're not even worth the trouble."

Her brows furrowed as she watched them walk away from her,

 

⟡

 

She was still tired, staggering back to the village, it was still dark, the sky painted in a blue midnight color, as she finally made it to the outskirts of the village,

She pushed forward, her body demanding rest but her resolve was stronger than the fatigue that threatened to swallow her.

As she reached the village gates, Chief Takemura, standing with several villagers, caught sight of her. The moment he saw her figure, his face broke into a look of disbelief and relief. His eyes scanned her carefully, taking in her worn and exhausted state.

"Priestess Hinoka!" Takemura called out, his voice thick with emotion. The villagers, huddled in the shadows of their homes, slowly began to emerge, their faces lit with cautious hope. The curse that had plagued them for so long had been defeated, and their fear was slowly starting to lift.

Hinoka barely managed a nod in response. Her limbs felt heavy, her breath shallow as she tried to remain upright. 

Takemura rushed forward, his hands hovering hesitantly before gripping her shoulders with careful urgency. "You did it, didn't you?" His voice wavered, as if afraid to believe.

Hinoka parted her lips, but no words came out. Instead, she swayed, her vision blurring. A sharp ringing filled her ears, drowning out the murmurs of the villagers as they gathered closer. Before she could fight it, the last remnants of her strength gave out, and she collapsed into Takemura's hold.

"Priestess!" The villagers gasped, a few rushing forward in alarm.

"Get her inside," Takemura ordered, tightening his grip around her frail form. He turned to one of the women in the crowd. "Prepare the herbalists. She needs tending to immediately."

The woman nodded and hurried away, while Takemura carefully lifted Hinoka into his arms. Despite the exhaustion dragging her into unconsciousness, she could still hear the faint voices of the villagers whispering among themselves.

"She really did it... The curse is gone..."

"She's the only one who could've saved us."

"Will she survive after all that?"

Their voices faded into the background as darkness finally took her.

 

...

..

.

 

She opened her eyes, and the first thing she registered was warmth. The bitter chill that had sunk into her bones was gone, replaced by the comforting heat of thick blankets wrapped tightly around her body. Her eyes fluttered open, the dim glow of paper lanterns casting shadows along the wooden walls.

A soft rustling to her left made her shift her gaze. An elderly woman sat beside her, grinding herbs into a fine powder. Her face was lined with age, her hands steady despite their wrinkles. When she noticed Hinoka's stirring, she set down the mortar and pestle, leaning in closer.

"Priestess, you are awake," she murmured, relief evident in her tone. "Do not move too much. Your body is still recovering."

Hinoka swallowed, her throat dry and sore. "How long... have I been asleep?"

"Two days," the woman replied, carefully lifting a cup of water to Hinoka's lips. "You were barely breathing when the villagers brought you in. We feared the worst."

Two days? The realization made her stomach churn. She had never allowed herself such weakness before, but this battle had drained her beyond reason. The cursed spirit that had plagued the village was unlike any she had encountered before—malicious, persistent, and deeply tied to something ancient. It had taken everything in her to exorcise it.

"The village..." she rasped after taking a sip of water.

"Safe," the woman assured her. "For the first time in years, the children can play outside without fear. The fields no longer rot overnight. The air feels lighter. You have saved us, Priestess Hinoka."

Hinoka exhaled slowly, a flicker of relief washing over her. The weight of responsibility had not yet lifted, but at least, for now, the people of this village could breathe easier.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. 

The woman she talked to, the only surviving factor of the curse, her head was down as she stepped. She immediately bowed, you could hear her heavy breathing, 

"Thank you Priestess" she cried, bringing her head up, her eyes were glassy, as she sniffled. Hinoka was taken away,

"My name is Natsume, and thank you Priestess for killing the curse.." she bowed again, but to her head hitting the floor.

"I was just doing my job..Natsume" Hinoka responded back, the young woman nodded, before she got up, thanking her again before leaving.

Hinoka had to get back home, she felt another pang in her head before she groaned.

"Priestess!"

"I'm fine, just a headache" she murmured, putting her hand to stop the older woman.

 

⟡

 

Some time passes, and she left the village when she can, the village throws her a feast to get rid of the curse that haunted their village, but she responds simply that she was doing her job.

Now, she is back in her original place, back in the shrine. 

"Sister!" Yoshiko exclaimed she turned her head to see her little sister coming toward her, her usual smile on her face.

Hinoka chuckled softly at Yoshiko's excitement, watching as her younger sister clasped her hands together in anticipation. It had been a while since she had seen Yoshiko so lively—so untouched by the weight of responsibility that often loomed over them both.

"Alright, what do you need Yoshiko?" Hinoka said, the woven basket already on her, 

Yoshiko grinned, rocking on her heels. 

"The red camellia! You know the one—it grows near the river bend. The elder said it could be useful in a new healing salve."

Hinoka raised an eyebrow. "The river bend, huh? You do realize that's quite the walk, don't you?"

Yoshiko clasped her hands together dramatically. "Please, sister? You're the only one who knows how to pick the right ones! And you just got back... I thought it could be nice for you to stretch your legs after resting back on your trip."

Hinoka sighed but couldn't fight the small smile tugging at her lips. Yoshiko always knew how to ask for things in a way that made refusal impossible. With a shake of her head, she tightened the strap of the basket over her shoulder.

"Fine, fine," she said, feigning exasperation. "But if I come back soaked because of that river, you owe me."

Yoshiko beamed. "Deal!"

Hinoka turned on her heel and made her way down the stone path leading away from the shrine. The early afternoon sun cast golden streaks through the trees, the cool breeze rustling the leaves. 

 

.

 

As she approached the river bend, the sound of rushing water filled her ears, a calming contrast to the restless thoughts that often plagued her. She crouched near the brush, scanning the area for the familiar deep red petals of the camellia flowers.

Her fingers brushed against the soft petals when something made her pause.

The air felt... different.

Something was there—someone.

She tightened her grip on the flower, her muscles tensing, but before she could react, a shadow loomed over her. A deep, amused chuckle rippled through the silence, sharp and taunting.

"My, my... look at you, little priestess," a familiar voice drawled.

Hinoka snapped her head up, her e/c eyes locking onto a figure perched lazily atop a large rock near the riverbank.

Oh, this guy again...

Sukuna.

He sat with an elbow propped on his knee, chin resting against his knuckles, watching her with that ever-present smirk. His crimson eyes flickered with amusement as he tilted his head, gaze dropping to the basket in her hands.

"You were just staggering over your steps and now you're out here picking flowers? Have you finally accepted your role as a simple shrine maiden?" He scoffed, feigning disappointment. 

"How tragic."

She felt her eyes twitching, before she exhaled sharply, standing up slowly, her fingers still curled around the delicate petals. She met his gaze with an unyielding stare.

"I was doing my duty," she corrected, her voice even. 

"Not that you'd understand."

Sukuna chuckled, shifting slightly so that one arm draped over his knee. His gaze flicked lazily to the camellia flowers in her basket before he reached forward, plucking one out with two fingers. He twirled it between them, inspecting it with mild interest.

"Camellias, huh?" He hummed. "A flower of admiration and love... but also of death and farewell." His smirk widened as he tossed it back into the basket. 

"How fitting for someone like you."

Hinoka clenched her jaw. She refused to rise to his baiting, though she knew he was watching, waiting for her to break.

"You have no reason to be here," she said coolly, adjusting the strap of her basket. "So why are you?"

Sukuna laughed, the sound rich with mockery. He leaned forward slightly as if conspiring with her.

"You don't have a reason to be, don't you," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. She adjusted the strap of her basket. 

"So why are you?"

Sukuna's laugh echoed, rich with mockery, before he leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"I don't know your name, shrine maiden," he mused, his tone laced with amusement. "But you've piqued my interest."

"Piqued your interest, huh?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

He just hums, 

"You must be really bored, then..." she said, her tone cutting, a challenge slipping into her words.

Sukuna's grin widened, his amusement flickering across his features. "Maybe," he replied, his voice like velvet as it wrapped around each word.

 "Or maybe I'm just intrigued by you."

Hinoka stood tall, her gaze steady, unwilling to let him see how unnerved his words made her. His curiosity, so blunt and unexpected, was almost more unnerving than the arrogant smile on his face. It was like he was trying to puzzle her out, but for reasons she couldn't yet understand. His interest, however, felt dangerous. There was something almost predatory in the way he watched her, a hunger that hadn't quite found its meal. She wasn't sure whether he was playing with her or genuinely curious, but either way, she wasn't about to let him think he could toy with her.

"You're strange," she said, her voice clipped, as she took another step back, hoping the physical distance would help shake off the uncomfortable weight of his presence.

Sukuna's smirk didn't falter, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed a subtle shift—like he wasn't used to being dismissed so easily. His posture remained relaxed, but there was a slight tension in the air now. The easy mockery was gone, replaced with something far sharper, more focused.

"Strange, huh?" His voice was smooth, almost contemplative. He slowly stood up, moving toward her in a way that felt deliberate, and controlled.

 "I find you far more interesting than strange, shrine maiden."

Hinoka tightened her grip on the basket, her fingers going white around the woven handle. She shifted her stance slightly, ready for whatever game he was trying to play, but inwardly, she was on edge. The air felt heavier with every step he took. She didn't know what he wanted, but she was starting to realize that he wasn't going to leave until he got whatever it was.

"You don't know anything about me," she said, her voice tinged with warning as she shifted again, angling herself to face him fully. "So don't pretend you do."

Sukuna stopped a few feet from her, watching her with that unsettling, calculated look. "I don't need to know anything about you," he said, his voice low but firm. "I know enough to be intrigued."

Hinoka felt a flicker of something in her chest—was it anger? Fear? She wasn't sure. But it burned through her veins, and she pushed it down. "You think you're the only one who can be intrigued by things? Who can have their curiosity piqued?" she shot back, her eyes narrowing, her heart pounding as the tension between them thickened.

A quiet laugh escaped him, a soft, dangerous sound that made her skin crawl. "No, not at all. But I think I might be the only one who's going to act on it." He tilted his head, taking a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "You're not like the others, are you?"

Hinoka's jaw clenched, and she tried to quell the storm rising within her. She wasn't sure where this was headed, but she wasn't going to be led into some trap. She'd been trained for this. She could handle him.

"I'm not like the others because I don't have time for games," she retorted, her tone biting. "So if that's all you want from me, I suggest you find someone else to entertain you."

His eyes gleamed with something darker, something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "You misunderstand," Sukuna said, his voice almost too calm. "I'm not playing a game, shrine maiden. I'm figuring you out."

Hinoka's heart skipped a beat, and she realized, with a sinking feeling, that he wasn't bluffing. This wasn't a playful encounter—he was sizing her up. The thought made her pulse quicken.

"And what exactly are you figuring out?" she asked, her voice still steady, but her eyes betraying the flicker of unease she felt.

Sukuna's grin widened, though it wasn't the same mocking smile from before. This one was more knowing, more dangerous. "I'm figuring out why you're here. Why you're so different? You're not scared of me, are you?"

Hinoka's heart pounded in her chest. The fact that he was asking was proof enough that he already knew the answer. She wasn't scared of him, but that didn't mean she trusted him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting that she was unsettled.

"I'm not scared of you," she said, her voice unwavering. 

Sukuna's eyes flashed with amusement, the challenge clearly pleasing him. "Good. That means I've got your attention."

Hinoka shook her head, her jaw set. "I'm not your pawn. I don't play by your rules."

"Maybe," he said, his voice almost a whisper as he took another step forward, now so close that she could feel the heat of his presence. "But you don't get to decide the rules when I'm the one who's curious about you."

He moved even closer, just within arm's reach. Hinoka's pulse raced, but she stood her ground, refusing to back away. She refused to let him have that victory.

His eyes bored into hers, his smirk still in place, though his curiosity was unmistakable. "Tell me, shrine maiden," he said softly, his voice taking on an almost seductive edge, "what's it like to be so... different?"

Hinoka's breath caught in her throat, and for the first time, she felt something break in her composure. She didn't know what this man was after, but she wasn't sure she could keep hiding from him forever. He could see right through her, and that scared her more than anything else.

"I'm not different," she said, forcing the words out, even as her chest tightened. "I'm just doing my duty."

Sukuna's eyes gleamed, his smile broadening, and for the first time, there was a strange tenderness in his gaze that caught her off guard. It was fleeting, like an illusion, but it was enough to make her heart skip.

"Then let's see how long you can keep pretending," he murmured, before taking a step back, his smile never faltering.

Hinoka's heart thudded in her chest, but she quickly masked it with indifference. She just turned and walked away, damn it, next time she definitely going to make Yoshiko get these herself, 

 

⟡

 

The encounters between Hinoka and Sukuna had become too frequent to ignore, and it was always in the same place—the forest. It was the one place she felt truly at peace, surrounded by nature and the sounds of the wind rustling through the trees. But somehow, Sukuna always found his way into the thick of it, appearing from behind trees or simply stepping out from the shadows as though he were waiting for her.

It started innocently enough, the first time they'd run into each other there. She'd been gathering herbs near the edge of the forest, the cool air thick with the scent of pine, when she'd heard the soft crunch of footsteps. Before she could react, a figure appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

Sukuna stood there with that damnable smirk on his face, looking far too pleased with himself for having caught her off guard. "Ah, shrine maiden, I've been looking for you," he said casually, as though running into her was some sort of planned meeting.

Hinoka hadn't been ready for it, and she had no choice but to step back, startled by his sudden appearance. The basket of herbs in her hand jostled, some of the plants falling out as she struggled to regain her balance.

"You—" she started, but her words were cut off as she stepped forward too quickly, stumbling into him.

"Careful now," Sukuna murmured, one hand catching her arm effortlessly. He held her at an arm's length, his other hand casually brushing the herbs that had fallen to the ground, almost dismissing them entirely.

She tried to pull away, feeling a sudden heat rise in her chest, but his grip remained firm.

"Not so fast," he teased, still holding onto her. "I'm just trying to help."

Her heart was racing. "I don't need your help," she bit back, irritated.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow at her reaction, his grin widening. "Is that so? You seem to be in quite a rush today."

Hinoka narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you want, Sukuna? You're always appearing in my path. Why?"

He released her arm, stepping back but still holding her gaze with that unnerving intensity. "Maybe I'm just curious," he said with a shrug. "You're always alone out here, just you and your herbs. Isn't it lonely?"

The question caught her off guard. She wasn't sure how to answer. The truth was, yes, there were times when it did feel isolating, but she wasn't about to admit that to someone like him.

"I'm not lonely," she said quickly, trying to mask the sting of his words. "I prefer my solitude."

Sukuna tilted his head, considering her words for a long moment before he spoke again. "You know, I've been thinking. I never actually asked for your name, shrine maiden."

Hinoka felt a flicker of hesitation in her chest. She hadn't told him her name yet. She hadn't wanted to. But here, in the quiet of the forest with the soft moonlight filtering through the trees, it felt oddly significant.

She straightened, her eyes meeting his. "Hinoka," she replied, her voice steady, but her heart racing.

"Hinoka, huh?" His lips quirked into a half-smile. "It's nice to put a name to your face. Now, I can call you by something other than 'shrine maiden.'"

Hinoka felt something stir in her chest, but she couldn't place it—something sharp, something strange.

..

.

 

The next weeks that passed, it wasn't an incident or mere bump in another, she kept on encountering Sukuna in the forest, and even in places she went to—he was already there,

It was subtle at first, the slightest rustle in the leaves behind her, a flash of movement in her peripheral vision. But when she turned around, there he was, standing at the edge of the clearing, leaning casually against a tree.

"I thought you might have been avoiding me," Sukuna said with that same lazy grin, his arms folded across his chest. "But you always seem to end up in my path, don't you?"

Hinoka rolled her eyes, trying to mask the small flutter in her stomach. "I wasn't avoiding you."

"Really?" His grin widened. "Because I've been finding you in the forest almost every day. Funny how that works out, isn't it?"

"Not funny at all," she said coolly, reaching down to gather the herbs she had dropped. But before she could fully bend over, Sukuna was at her side in a flash, kneeling down and picking them up for her. His actions were swift, and before she could protest, he had straightened, holding the herbs out to her with a quiet smirk.

She blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected gesture. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you," he said, his tone almost teasing, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "I thought you didn't need help, but here I am, offering it anyway."

Hinoka stared at him, flustered by the sudden kindness—or whatever this was—and took the herbs from his hand, though she didn't know what to make of it.

"You're not as much of a nuisance as I thought," she muttered, trying to regain her composure.

Sukuna's expression softened, just slightly. "It's a shame you still think of me as a nuisance."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly shoved the feeling down. "What do you want, Sukuna?" she asked again, though this time, it wasn't with irritation. There was something different in her tone, something softer.

He watched her carefully, his gaze never leaving her face. After a long pause, he leaned in slightly, his voice lower than before. "What if I told you I just wanted to get to know you? To see what's beneath that cold exterior?"

For a long moment, Hinoka held his gaze, her heart thumping in her chest. She didn't know why, but something in his words made her hesitate. Something about him made her want to say yes, to drop her guard and let him in.

But she didn't.

Instead, she turned and began to walk away, but not before she called over her shoulder,

 "We'll see."

You just heard his laughter echoing through the forest, as he followed her—' so persistent' she mumbles.

 

⟡

 

The forest had become their meeting place.

 Time passed, and with each encounter, the lines between rivalry, annoyance, and something deeper blurred. Months slipped by, turning into years. Every time Hinoka entered the forest, she knew Sukuna was somewhere nearby, though it no longer felt like an intrusion. It was almost as if the forest itself had grown to expect his presence, just as much as it expected hers.

At first, they were cautious, both watching each other from a distance, testing the waters of this strange, unpredictable connection. They exchanged words as easily as they exchanged glances. They would banter back and forth, the edges of their conversations growing softer with time, less sharp, more playful. Sukuna's teasing remarks once meant to provoke, began to feel more like an inside joke between them, something shared and familiar.

Hinoka found herself laughing more often in his presence, something she hadn't done in years. His sharp wit, his boldness, his unpredictable nature—they all started to draw her in, in a way she couldn't explain. She had never been one for romance or affection, always too focused on her duties as a shrine maiden. But there was something about Sukuna, something that kept pulling her back, something that made the cold distance between them feel less suffocating and more like a magnet.

It wasn't just the words they exchanged anymore. There were moments when they would stand in the quiet of the forest, simply enjoying each other's company. They would walk side by side, occasionally brushing past one another, neither of them speaking, but both of them feeling the connection grow between them with every step.

At some point, Hinoka stopped questioning why he was always there. It was simply a fact. He was part of her life now. 

A constant. 

Just as the wind rustled the leaves of the trees, Sukuna had become a familiar presence, a constant shadow she never felt the need to escape from. She couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been a part of her world, and that realization was both terrifying and comforting.

Their relationship evolved naturally, like the slow unfurling of petals on a flower. 

Sometimes, they would stand close, their fingers brushing lightly as they passed something between them, each touch lingering longer than the last. Sukuna was always the one to push for more, for the closeness that neither of them had dared reach in the early days. But as time passed, Hinoka's resistance started to fade. She didn't fight it anymore. Her heart, once guarded and locked away, began to open slowly, like a door creaking open after years of disuse.

It happened one late afternoon in the heart of the forest, when the golden hues of the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. They had walked through the forest for hours, speaking little, but sharing everything in the silence between them. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, and as they reached the clearing by the small stream, Sukuna paused. He turned to face her, his crimson eyes glimmering in the fading light.

"I'm not good at this," he said, his voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable in its tone.

Hinoka raised an eyebrow. "Good at what?"

He looked down for a moment, his expression unreadable. "At... this. Us. Whatever this is."

Hinoka's heart skipped a beat. She didn't know what to say at first. She wasn't good at this either—at feelings, at the things that had been growing between them over the past year. But there was something in his gaze, something raw and unspoken that made her heart ache.

"You're not the only one," she said quietly. "But... maybe we don't have to be good at it. Maybe we just have to... be."

Sukuna's smirk appeared then, albeit smaller, more genuine than before. 

"Is that so?" He stepped closer to her, the space between them closing in an instant. His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering longer than it ever had before.

Hinoka didn't move. She didn't step back.

"You've changed," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't expect you to."

She laughed softly, the sound surprisingly warm.

 "I didn't expect you to, either."

 

...

 

The shrine was peaceful, the quiet hum of the forest settling around them like a protective barrier. Hinoka went about her duties with quiet precision, her hands moving with practiced ease as she cleaned and arranged offerings. The smell of incense filled the air, and she found comfort in the ritual, as she always did. But today, as she worked, she couldn't ignore the weight of Sukuna's gaze.

He was standing just a few feet away, leaning lazily against the stone column. He'd been watching her with that insufferable smirk of his, his eyes gleaming with that ever-present curiosity that never failed to unnerve her. His presence was suffocating, and yet, she couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way she hadn't expected.

"You're really something, you know that?" Sukuna's voice was playful, teasing. His gaze flickered to the basket she was holding, filled with offerings for the altar. "You spend all this time here, making offerings to a god you don't even believe in."

Hinoka's fingers tightened around the handle of the basket, but she said nothing. She had learned long ago that responding to his provocations was a waste of time. He wanted to see her unravel, to get a rise out of her, and she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

"Such a waste of time," he continued, walking closer, his steps slow, deliberate. "Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to leave all of this behind? To not have to worry about duty, tradition, or playing the part of the perfect little shrine maiden?"

Hinoka felt a sudden surge of emotion, an unfamiliar wave of doubt and frustration crashing over her. His words, as usual, hit too close to home. She had spent so long in this role, doing what was expected of her, doing what she thought she had to do. But had she ever questioned it? Had she ever really considered what she wanted? The answer, she realized, was no.

She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing as she set the basket down on the stone surface of the shrine. "I'm not pretending, Sukuna," she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly, betraying the turmoil beneath her calm exterior. "I do my duty because it's who I am."

Sukuna stopped in front of her, his smirk widening, the amusement never leaving his eyes. "Who you are, huh?" he mused, his gaze flicking over her as though he were examining her very soul. "And who are you really, shrine maiden? Someone who hides behind all these vows and rituals, pretending they're enough to fill the emptiness inside."

Hinoka's breath hitched at his words. She could feel something stirring deep inside her, something she had buried for so long. Her chest tightened, and she swallowed hard, trying to push the feelings down. But it was no use. He was right. All these years, she had buried herself in this role, in her duties, to avoid confronting the part of herself that longed for more.

Sukuna's expression softened, just a little, as he stepped even closer, his gaze intense and searching. "You know, I've been wondering for a while now..." His voice dropped to a lower, more intimate tone. "What would happen if you let go, even just for a moment? If you stopped playing this game of being the perfect shrine maiden and let yourself feel something more?"

Hinoka couldn't breathe. His words wrapped around her like a spell, and she found herself drawn to him, her heart beating faster in her chest. He was so close now, his presence overwhelming, and before she could stop herself, she felt his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her skin.

The touch sent a jolt through her, and her eyes fluttered shut. Her heart raced, her mind a blur of confusion and longing. She wanted this, wanted him, more than she was willing to admit.

And then, in a moment of clarity, she realized what was happening. What they were both on the verge of. His lips were inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin, and she felt the pull between them, undeniable and electric.

But as his lips inched closer to hers, a sudden wave of panic swept through her. She couldn't. She couldn't do this.

"I... I can't," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Sukuna's gaze faltered for a moment, confusion flashing in his eyes. He leaned back slightly, studying her face. "What?"

Hinoka's breath caught in her throat as she stepped away from him, her hands trembling at her sides. She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes, a rush of emotion that she couldn't contain. "I can't," she repeated, her voice shaking. "The binding vow..."

The words hung in the air between them, a heavy, suffocating weight. The vow she had sworn long ago, a vow that had bound her to a life she couldn't escape, a life that didn't allow her to love or be loved. The vow that had kept her from being free.

"I—" She cut herself off as the tears finally spilled over, running down her cheeks. She hadn't meant to cry, but the emotions were too much to bear. The loneliness, the longing, the frustration—it all came crashing down at once. "I can't love you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't be with you."

Sukuna's expression softened, his gaze flickering with something she couldn't quite place. For a moment, he didn't say anything, just watched her, as if unsure of what to do with the raw, vulnerable person standing before him.

But then, without warning, he reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek. "You don't have to hide anymore," he said softly, his voice low and sincere. "You don't have to keep pretending, Hinoka. I don't care about your vows. I care about you."

The words were enough to break her. Her chest heaved with sobs, and she buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions she had kept locked away for so long. Sukuna's presence felt comforting, though it only made her pain sharper, more unbearable. But in that moment, she realized something. Despite everything, despite the vow that bound her, despite the pain and the heartache, she had let herself care for him. She had fallen for him.

And that realization tore her apart.

Sukuna stood there, watching her with a rare softness in his eyes, unsure of how to comfort her but unwilling to leave her in her moment of vulnerability. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with longing and regret.

Hinoka wiped her tears away, her chest still tight with the weight of everything she couldn't have. She could feel the distance between them growing, but she also felt something else—a strange sense of release. She had let herself feel, even for a moment, 

The tension in the air was thick, the weight of their proximity almost unbearable. Hinoka's body ached with the need to close the distance, her every instinct screaming to reach out and give in. Her fingers trembled as they brushed against Sukuna's chest, the heat of his body sending jolts of electricity through her. His eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside them seemed to vanish. 

Hinoka's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she hesitated, battling with herself. She knew she shouldn't. She knew what this would mean. But before her mind could catch up with her, her heart won. She closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was both soft and urgent. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of everything she had denied herself for so long.

The first contact was light, hesitant, like a question, but the moment their mouths met, everything inside her unraveled. It was as though every suppressed feeling—every bit of longing, loneliness, and desperate yearning—came flooding to the surface all at once. His lips moved against hers gently, like he was waiting, testing her, waiting for her to pull away. But she didn't. She couldn't. The moment stretched, both of them unwilling to break away.

The kiss deepened slowly, a consuming heat building between them, and it felt as though time itself had stopped, that the world had been reduced to nothing more than the two of them in this fragile moment. His hands found their way to her back, pulling her closer, his touch firm yet tender, as though he, too, couldn't resist the pull between them.

Hinoka felt herself melt into him, her senses drowning in the overwhelming sensation of being wanted, of feeling something more than the endless isolation she had lived with. Every touch of his hands, every brush of his lips sent sparks through her, igniting a fire she hadn't known was there. She let herself be lost in it—lost in him, in the way his body pressed against hers, in the way his warmth seeped into her skin.

For those few moments, everything else faded away. The vow, the duty, the life she had spent years building around those things—it all seemed so distant, so trivial. The only thing that mattered now was the taste of him, the heat of his touch, the rhythmic beat of her heart that seemed to race in sync with his own. She was alive in this moment, in a way she had never allowed herself to be before.

When they finally pulled away, both breathless, Hinoka's chest heaved as she tried to steady herself. The air between them was charged with unspoken words, with the weight of everything that had passed between them in the last few moments. Sukuna's lips curled into a smug smile, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched her, clearly satisfied with the effect he had on her.

Hinoka stood there, dazed, her thoughts scattered. She could barely catch her breath, her head spinning. She had given in, given herself to him in a way she never thought possible. And now, she was left standing here, breathless and trembling, with the reality of what she had just done crashing in.

Sukuna, however, looked entirely unfazed. His smirk was as confident as ever, but there was something in his eyes—something softer—that made her heart skip a beat. He looked at her, that knowing glint in his eyes, and for a brief moment, he seemed to study her with an intensity that left her feeling exposed, vulnerable.

"You're breathless," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, but there was no mockery in it this time. His tone was almost gentle, a subtle shift from the usual smugness she was accustomed to. "But you didn't pull away."

Hinoka swallowed hard, her hands still shaking as she tried to gather herself. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the words wouldn't come. All she could do was stare at him, her chest tightening, the reality of her actions crashing down on her like a wave.

She had kissed him. She had ignored the vow, the promise she had made long ago. In that moment, she had allowed herself to feel something real, something she knew she shouldn't. And now, there was no going back.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smug grin as he reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Don't tell me you're regretting it," he teased, his voice light, but there was an edge to it now, as though he could sense the turmoil inside her.

Hinoka could feel the tears welling up, but she refused to let them fall. She had allowed herself to feel everything she had kept buried for so long, but now, it was almost too much to bear. The emotions, the ache, the longing—it was all crashing down on her, overwhelming her in a way she hadn't expected.

"I didn't regret it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I can't... I can't do this."

Sukuna's expression softened, though the smirk never completely left his face. "Can't do what?" he asked, his voice a bit more serious now, though still tinged with amusement. "You didn't think it would be easy, did you?"

Hinoka closed her eyes, feeling a tear slip down her cheek despite her best efforts to hold it back. She didn't know what to say. She had kissed him, but there were consequences—consequences she couldn't ignore. The vow was still there, hanging over her like a dark cloud, and the price for breaking it would be her life.

But for tonight, she didn't want to think about that. For tonight, she wanted to feel everything she had denied herself for so long.

"I can't..." she whispered again, the words thick with emotion. 

"But tonight... I love you..I love you sukuna..so much"

 

⟡

 

Chapter 5: 𝐭radegy

Summary:

NEW CHAPTER, THIS IS LIKE A BACKSTORY WITH THE FANS, NOT NEEDED TO BE READ WITH THE STORY BUT YK ADVISED.

 

 

⟡

 

The morning after the kiss was like a cold slap of reality. The sun rose, and with it, the grim truth of the vow she had broken settled in her chest. Hinoka woke with a heavy heart, her skin still tingling from the remnants of the kiss, but the weight of her promise to herself, 

She couldn't stay at the shrine—not today. The flame inside her was far too powerful now, and she could feel the ticking clock counting down to the moment her life would be taken. It was the price of defying her vow, and no matter how much she wanted to escape it, she knew better than to try.

Instead of her usual duties, she decided to spend the day with her little sister, Yoshiko. The young girl's laughter, her carefree spirit, was a bittersweet balm to her aching heart. They spent hours in the forest, walking among the trees, the sounds of the birds and rustling leaves filling the air. Hinoka smiled at her sister's innocent joy, the weight of the coming end momentarily forgotten. They gathered herbs together, picking flowers and enjoying the warmth of the sun as if everything were normal.

But it wasn't. Her heart ached with each moment she spent with her sister. She couldn't let her see what was coming. She couldn't let her little sister feel the sorrow that had already consumed Hinoka.

"Sister, you look really nice, when your smiling" Yoshiko exclaimed,  as she put the flower in her hair.  You just chuckled, smiling at her words.

She buried her emotions deep, playing the part of the loving, strong sister for just a little while longer.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky,

 the weight of her decision became impossible to ignore. 

Each step Hinoka took through the forest seemed to carry a thousand unspoken words, the quiet murmur of the trees around her doing nothing to ease the heaviness in her chest. The air felt different now, thicker, as if the world itself was holding its breath along with her.

She had guided her little sister, Yoshiko, home, watching her skip into the house with a smile that felt so painfully innocent. The reality of what was to come weighed heavily on Hinoka's heart, but she didn't want Yoshiko to feel it. Not yet. Not until the moment had passed.

Her sandals crunched softly against the grass as she walked deeper into the forest. The cool breeze caressed her face, but it couldn't cool the fire that had taken hold of her—the fire of her love for Sukuna, the love she was about to lose forever. She had broken the vow, and now there was no turning back.

"Y/N?"

The voice cut through the quiet of the forest, familiar and low. Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned instinctively, already knowing who it was.

Sukuna stood in the clearing, his figure outlined by the fading orange light of the setting sun. His presence was as imposing as ever, a force that could neither be ignored nor dismissed. 

His gaze was fixed on her, but there was something different in his expression tonight—something softer, as if he sensed the shift in the air, the change that had taken place between them. Something had been set in motion that neither of them could undo.

"Hinoka," he said again, his tone more contemplative than usual. 

"What's going on with you?"

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she considered telling him everything—the vow, the consequence, the reality of what would happen when she performed the ritual. But something inside her rebelled against it. She didn't want this to be the last conversation they ever had. She didn't want him to see her as a sacrifice, as a woman bound by duty. She just wanted to be with him, just a little longer.

"I'm fine," she replied softly, walking closer to him, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her smile was a little shaky, but she hoped he wouldn't notice. "Just... thinking."

He stepped closer, studying her, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. "Thinking? About what?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. But Hinoka didn't have an answer. How could she explain everything she was feeling when she didn't even understand it herself? How could she explain the devastation of knowing that everything between them was fleeting, that her time was running out?

She closed the distance between them, placing her hand on his chest, the heat of his body radiating through her fingertips.

 He didn't pull away. 

He never did.

She could feel the storm inside her, the conflict, the crushing weight of her decision. Her mind wanted to scream the truth, but her heart wasn't ready. It wasn't ready to admit what she had to do, what she had already decided. She had one night—one night to be with him, one night to pretend like nothing would ever change.

"Nothing, really," she said, her voice calm, even though it felt like she was falling apart inside. "Just... thinking about the usual things."

His eyes narrowed, but the smirk remained. He could see through her, just like he always had. He took a few steps closer, the space between them growing smaller, but there was no urgency in his movements. It was as if he was allowing her to come to him, letting her decide when to close the distance.

"Liar," Sukuna murmured, his lips curling into a grin. "You're always thinking about something. What is it this time?"

Hinoka didn't answer. She couldn't. Instead, she took a slow, steady breath, watching the way the sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and red. The world felt like it was slipping into its own quiet rhythm, like a moment of peace before everything would change. She stepped forward, closing the gap between them, her eyes meeting his.

"I've been thinking about how little time we have," she said, the words coming out before she could stop them. It was honest, but it wasn't the full truth.

Sukuna seemed to pause at that, his gaze sharpening as he looked at her. For a moment, the usual teasing in his eyes faltered, and there was something almost tender there, something that made her heart skip. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced once more by that cocky grin.

"Well, that's a shame. I was hoping we'd have more time," he said, his voice playful but with an undercurrent of something real. "But I suppose if we're running out of time, we'd better make the most of it, right?"

Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her face to his, closing the remaining space between them. The kiss was gentle at first, an exploration of what they could have, what they hadn't allowed themselves before. She could taste the night air on his lips, feel the warmth of him against her, and in that moment, it was everything. It was the release of everything she had held back—every longing, every suppressed desire, every feeling that had been buried under the weight of duty. It was freedom, if only for a brief second.

As the kiss deepened, a quiet storm seemed to build between them. His hand moved to her back, pulling her closer, as if he, too, felt the need to hold onto this moment, to make it last just a little longer. Hinoka melted into him, her fingers threading into his hair, holding on to the one thing that made her feel alive. This moment.

She could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, steady and warm, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to forget the world outside of them. She didn't think about the ritual, the vow. She didn't think about the price she would have to pay for this moment. All she could think about was him, here, now, and the warmth that filled the empty spaces in her heart.

Sukuna didn't say anything at first. He looked at her, his eyes searching her face, as if trying to gauge something.

"Well, that was a little more than I expected," he remarked, his usual cocky grin returning, but there was something different in his eyes now.

Hinoka smiled, though it was faint, her fingers brushing against her lips as if to hold on to the sensation. "We never really know what to expect, do we?" she said softly.

Sukuna let out a soft chuckle, but there was a softness in his gaze, a moment of vulnerability she had never seen before. He didn't push her away, didn't make a joke, or act like nothing had changed. He just looked at her, and for a moment, they shared something that felt like an unspoken promise, something that would linger between them even after everything else had passed.

 

⟡

 

The last hours she had spent with Sukuna had been a dream—so real, so painfully sweet. They had shared something intimate, something fragile. But beneath the heat of his touch and the warmth of their kiss, the truth lingered, hanging over her like a shadow. 

She had only one night left, and she was determined to hold onto it for as long as possible.

But now, with the sun sinking lower on the horizon, the ritual loomed. Her hands clenched into fists as she walked further into the shrine grounds, her breath steadying with each step. Her thoughts were a storm inside her, but there was no room for hesitation anymore. She had lived her life by the vow, and the consequences of breaking it were clear. There was no escape. Not for her. Not now.

As she reached the center of the sacred space, the ground beneath her began to pulse, faintly at first, then with increasing intensity. Her body tingled with the energy, the magic of the ritual rising in her veins like fire, ready to consume her. The flames that would ignite the end were already there, building, waiting for her to release them. It was a sacred and dangerous act, one that would bind her fate forever to the vow she had made.

Hinoka stood still, taking a deep breath, feeling the air heavy with the promise of what was to come. She lifted her arms above her head, her fingers trembling slightly as she began to chant the words of the binding. The ancient language of her ancestors rolled from her lips, smooth and melodic, and the very ground beneath her seemed to tremble in response.

"By flame and blood, by vow and life, I call upon the sacred fire. Live by the flame... die by the flame..."

The words echoed through the shrine, resonating with a power older than time itself. The atmosphere crackled with the intensity of the magic being summoned, and Hinoka's heart thundered in her chest as she felt the power inside her awakening. 

The flames rose around her, flickering and dancing with an intensity she had never known. 

They were vermilion, the color of her blood, the color of the vow she had sworn all those years ago. They surrounded her, curling around her body like a lover's embrace, warm and consuming.

She closed her eyes, letting the flames sweep over her, their heat searing her skin, their touch a reminder of the price she would soon have to pay. Her body trembled with the energy, the ritual forcing her to face the consequences of the vow she had taken long ago. It was almost as if the flames were alive, sentient, reminding her that they had always been there, waiting for her to come to this moment.

The ritual was binding, and with each word she spoke, she could feel the power tighten around her chest, locking her into the path she had chosen. She was bound to this fate, her soul tethered to the flames, her life tethered to the vow.

But for now, she didn't feel the weight of death. Not yet. Not until the ritual was complete.

Her breath hitched as the final words escaped her lips, the culmination of everything she had ever been. "By the flame, I vow—my life, my soul, my heart... forever bound to this path."

As she spoke the last syllable, the flames roared to life, surrounding her completely, blocking out everything else. The fire burned fiercely, licking at the air with wild abandon, a visual representation of the fire inside her heart—the fire that had always burned for Sukuna, the fire that had been waiting for this final moment.

For a brief second, she felt alive—alive in a way she hadn't since she made the vow all those years ago. She had lived in fear of the vow, carried it with her like a burden, knowing it would one day demand its toll. But at that moment, she was free. 

Free to feel. Free to love. Free to burn.

And yet, she knew the cost.

Hinoka's breath was shallow, the air thick with the scent of burning incense, the ritual complete. The flames around her flickered and danced in the night air, the vermilion light casting long shadows across the shrine. The village was beginning to stir, people noticing the fire, the strange power emanating from the shrine.

But Hinoka stood still, her heart pounding, her chest heaving with the weight of the ritual. She had made her choice. She had chosen him—chosen to embrace the fire, chosen to embrace the end. Her body was already beginning to feel the effects of the vow's power, the energy draining from her as the flames continued to burn.

The fire would consume her, as it always had. The flames would take her life—her soul—until nothing remained but the ashes of the vow she had broken.

Hinoka's eyes fluttered open, and for the briefest of moments, she thought of Sukuna. She thought of him standing there, his smug grin, his teasing words. She thought of the kiss they shared, the warmth of his lips on hers, the fire in her heart that she could never extinguish.

The flames of the ritual pulsed one last time, a final surge of power that sent a wave of dizziness crashing through her. She staggered, almost losing her balance, but her resolve held. She could already feel the heat of the fire burning through her veins, the ritual's price exacting its toll.

As the vermilion flames rose higher, a single tear slipped down Hinoka's cheek, her final offering to the fire that would claim her life.

The shrine burned brightly into the night.

 

...

..

.

 

The embers from the fire falling to the ground, the once quiet village was rustling in screams and yells, merged voices. 

As the flames rose higher, they painted the night sky with brilliant vermilion, flickering and dancing like a fire that had a life of its own. The villagers, some of whom had lived their whole lives in the shadow of the shrine, watched in growing fear and confusion. 

What had caused the fire? Was it the work of demons? Some had already begun to gather, some screaming for help, others rushing to the nearby wells, filling buckets to douse the flames. But deep down, they knew it was no ordinary fire. The shrine had never burned before.

Yoshiko comes out of the home, turning to the burning shrine—hinoka..she whispers,

"HINOKA!!" She yells out, she is frozen in place, watching the flames lick at the sky. 

Something was evidently wrong, 

The fire was too intense, too fierce. Hinoka had never mentioned anything about a ritual—anything that could explain this. But the connection between them was undeniable. She could feel her sister's presence, even from afar.

Suddenly, the forest behind her rustled, and a dark figure emerged, tall and imposing. It was Sukuna.

Yoshiko's eyes widened at the familiar figure, she had seen him before, but the rumors about him were spreading through the village. His gaze locked onto the flames, his expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of something she couldn't place.

Sukuna stepped forward, his eyes scanning the fire, a smirk playing on his lips as if he was already in control of the situation. But there was something different about his demeanor tonight. His usual arrogance seemed to falter, his focus entirely on the shrine and its burning light. It was as if something had shifted in him, some unspoken urgency that made his usual smug confidence feel like a thin mask.

The villagers were beginning to crowd around, yelling, calling for help, but Sukuna ignored them. His gaze was solely fixed on the shrine, and without a word, he began to walk toward it, his long strides quickening as if he sensed something—someone—was inside.

Yoshiko watched, torn between her fear of the strange man and her need to know what was happening. The flames from the shrine illuminated his features in eerie, crimson hues, his usual smirk replaced by an expression of deep concentration. 

Before she could react, Sukuna rushed past her, his presence like a wave of power that seemed to push everything else out of the way. He moved with unnatural speed, the firelight catching the glint in his eyes as he approached the shrine.

Yoshiko stood frozen, her chest tight with fear, but her legs refused to move. The chaos around her seemed distant, the noise of the villagers fading into the background. All she could think about was her sister—the sister who had never once let her down, the one who had always been the pillar of their family.

But now, that pillar was burning.

Sukuna had already reached the shrine, his silhouette visible against the raging fire as he disappeared inside.

Yoshiko's heart pounded in her chest, as she watched him going into the burning shrine.

.

The fire was merciless. The flames roared and crackled, devouring everything in their path, and the heat was suffocating, filling the air with a choking smoke. The shrine, once sacred and serene, was now nothing more than a pyre, collapsing in on itself as the fire spread.

Sukuna pushed forward, his figure cutting through the smoke like a predator on the hunt, his eyes sharp, scanning every corner, every shadow, every ember. His breath came in shallow bursts, but his mind was focused on only one thing—Hinoka.

The village outside had begun to stir, panic rising in the air as people gathered, too frightened to enter the inferno. Sukuna was beyond them. The cries, the whispers—they meant nothing. There was only one thing that mattered now, only one person he cared about, and she was in there.

He barged through the smoke, ignoring the burning heat that scorched his skin, his heart racing in a way he had never experienced before. 

She has to be here. 

She has to be alive.

But as he made his way deeper into the shrine, that hope began to fade, replaced by a gnawing sense of horror. The air grew thicker, heavier, and with every passing second, the fire seemed to roar louder, as if mocking him, as if the flames themselves knew what he was looking for.

Then, there she was. Hinoka.

Her body lay in the heart of the shrine, her once-beautiful form reduced to a grotesque shell. The fire had ravaged her. Her skin was blackened, burned beyond recognition, her clothes nothing but ash. The vermilion flames that had surrounded her—the same flames that had once been her strength—had consumed her entirely.

Sukuna's eyes widened.

His chest tightened, as though the weight of the world had fallen on him in an instant. He had come for her. He had thought there was still time to save her, to protect her from this fate. But now, he was too late.

Her body was motionless, the life that had once filled her eyes was now extinguished.

 She was gone...

His heart twisted painfully in his chest, but he didn't hesitate. He reached out, his hands trembling as he pulled her into his arms, cradling her fragile, burnt form against him. The heat from the fire seared into his skin, but he didn't care. His gaze never left her face. There were no words to say. No curses to throw at fate. No actions to undo what had already been done.

He just held her.

He felt the weight of her lifeless body against him, and it broke him. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Not like this. She was supposed to live. She was supposed to be with me.

Sukuna's grip on her tightened, almost as though he could bring her back by sheer force of will. But it was futile. The flames had already taken her, leaving nothing behind but ashes and regret. His chest heaved with a heavy breath, his eyes glistening in the dim light of the fire, the fury inside him threatening to spill over. But he couldn't express it—not in the way he wanted to. Not when she was gone.

As the fire raged around them, he slowly began to carry her out of the shrine. His steps were slow, and measured, as if every part of him was weighed down by the crushing reality of the situation. The villagers watched in stunned silence as he emerged from the smoke, his face impassive, his eyes fixed on the lifeless body he held in his arms.

He couldn't stop. He couldn't let go of her. He had to leave. He had to get away from this place, away from the flames that had taken everything from him.

The villagers parted as he passed, not daring to say a word, their eyes filled with fear and awe. But none of them understood. They couldn't. They didn't know what it meant to him, to lose someone like her, someone who had meant so much in a way he couldn't even comprehend.

Sukuna didn't stop until he was outside the village, the shrill cries of the townsfolk fading behind him. He didn't look back. There was nothing left for him here, nothing but the haunting silence of the night and the weight of the dead woman in his arms.

He sank to his knees, the weight of her stillness finally catching up with him. For a moment, he just stared at her, the fire in his eyes dimmed, the anger, the rage, all of it gone.

 All that remained was emptiness.

Her death wasn't just a loss for him. It was a loss for everything. She had sacrificed herself for a vow. A vow that he didn't understand, not until it was too late. And now, the only thing he could do was mourn her in the quiet of the night.

Sukuna held her body close, his lips trembling as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"I couldn't save you," he whispered, his voice rough, thick with emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. "I'm sorry, Hinoka."

And for the first time, he allowed himself to feel the grief, to feel the loss. He didn't care if the villagers were watching. He didn't care about anything. He only cared about her. The woman who had been both his curse and his salvation. The woman who had been taken from him too soon.

As the night wrapped around him, all he could hear was the wind and the flames still burning in the distance. And deep within him, he could still feel the pull of her, even though..

she was gone...

 

⟡

 

The village lay still, the air heavy with the smell of charred wood and smoldering ruins. The night was thick with grief, and the villagers were unsure of how to process the destruction they had just witnessed. The shrine, a place that had once been a symbol of faith and tradition, was now nothing more than a shell of its former self, a burnt skeleton standing against the dark sky. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional crackle of a fading ember.

Yoshiko stood at the edge of the village, her heart heavy with the dread she had felt all evening. She had heard the whispers, seen the smoke rising from the shrine, but she had stayed back, paralyzed by fear, unable to act. Her sister had gone into that fire, and now, all she could do was wait, pray, hope that somehow, Hinoka would walk out of it, safe.

But as she approached the ruins, that hope shattered with every step she took.

Her sandals crunched against the ash as she moved through the village, her eyes scanning the blackened landscape for any sign of life. The village was eerily quiet, the once-thriving community now reduced to hushed voices and staring faces. They were all waiting for an answer. An answer that wouldn't come.

Yoshiko reached the center of the wreckage, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of the shrine—the very place where her sister had sacrificed so much—now reduced to a smoldering ruin. The heat still radiated from the earth beneath her feet, the fire having taken everything. Or so she thought.

Her eyes flicked to the charred remains, to the broken walls, the crumbling pillars, and the scattered ash. It was here that she should've found her sister, here that she should've found the answers. But there was nothing, just the remnants of a past life that was now gone.

But then, something caught her eye.

At the far side of the wreckage, nestled between the ash and the scorched debris, something glimmered. It wasn't much, just a faint gleam in the darkness, almost as if it were protected from the ravages of the flames. Yoshiko's heart skipped a beat, and she hurried toward it, her feet stumbling over the uneven ground.

She knelt beside the wreckage, brushing away the ash with trembling hands, her chest tight with a mixture of grief and confusion. Beneath the soot, the cold steel of the fans was unmistakable. The ornate design, the intricate detail—she knew them instantly. They were Hinoka's fans, the very ones she had carried for as long as Yoshiko could remember. The ones she had always used when she performed her sacred duties, the ones that had been part of her identity.

Yoshiko's fingers brushed the delicate handles, her breath catching in her throat. The fans had been untouched by the fire, as if protected by some unseen force. Her heart ached as she held them in her hands, the weight of their presence a stark reminder of her sister's absence.

Something was haunting about the way the fans had remained intact, untouched by the devastation that had consumed everything else. It was as if, even in death, Hinoka's legacy had been preserved. The fans were the last piece of her, a symbol of everything she had been, everything she had stood for.

Yoshiko collapsed to her knees, her hands trembling as she pressed the fans to her chest. The grief was unbearable, a sharp pain that cut deep into her soul. She could still feel her sister's presence in the cool metal, the familiar weight of the fans in her hands, and it only made the loss feel that much more final.

"Hinoka..." she whispered, her voice breaking as the tears finally spilled over. 

"Where are you? Please..."

The wind whispered through the ruins, carrying with it the faintest echo of a voice—too soft, too distant to be real, but it was there. At that moment, Yoshiko didn't know if it was the wind or her own heart calling out, but she felt it, the presence of her sister, lingering in the air around her.

The flames had taken her. The fire had stolen everything she held dear. But the fans remained, untouched, unbroken.

And in that small, painful moment, Yoshiko realized that she would never be the same. Her sister was gone, but her memory—her spirit—lived on in the silent, enduring fans that had survived the fire.

As the village mourned the loss of the shrine, of their faith,

 Yoshiko mourned the loss of her sister...

 

Chapter 6: 𝐜hildhood

Summary:

NEW CHAPTER, THIS IS LIKE A BACKSTORY, yk before she in jjk high, not neccessary to read but is advise.

 

 

⟡

 

Y/N grew up in a household where wealth was present, but not the sort that demanded constant attention or flashy displays. It wasn't the kind of wealth that stood out in the grand halls of prestigious families, but rather one that maintained a comfortable, dignified life. Your family, a clan of quiet influence, wasn't part of the A-list of powerful lineages. They weren't at the top, nor were they beneath the notice of others. They were simply there—steady, consistent, and respected in their own right.

 Your parents taught her the value of this quiet life.

 Your father, a man of few words, upheld their family's reputation with the strength of his actions, never boasting, but always commanding respect when necessary. 

Your mother, on the other hand, embodied grace and wisdom, the type that made people feel welcome yet aware of your quiet authority. They didn't have the grand estates or excessive luxuries that other families flaunted, but their home was filled with a peaceful atmosphere—a place where integrity and responsibility were taught alongside love and tradition.

You never felt the pressure to live up to unattainable expectations. You had everything you needed, and your life was one of structure and stability. Your family's wealth didn't extend to ridiculous excess. There were no grandiose celebrations or extravagant gifts. The house itself wasn't massive, but it was comfortable, and adorned with simple yet elegant decor. It wasn't a mansion with marble floors and gold-leafed mirrors, but it was a home—one that felt rooted in the earth, calm and steady.

Among the heirlooms that had been passed down through generations, one of the most significant was a set of delicate fans. They were made of fine paper and thin bamboo, their intricate designs depicting the seasons in a way that was both artistic and subtle. The fans were a family treasure, worn with age but still beautiful, their colors faded just enough to tell a story of their past. 

Your mother would often take the fans out and let your fingers run over their patterns, sharing stories of your ancestors who had worn them with pride.

One afternoon, as you sat by the hearth with your mother, the fans were brought out once again. They had been kept in a special wooden box for years, a relic of their clan's past. Your mother's fingers grazed the fans, then turned to you, eyes soft but filled with a quiet, unspoken weight.

"These fans," your mother spoke up, her voice quiet and reverent, "have been passed down from generation to generation. They are a symbol of our family's strength, and our ability to weather any storm. And now, my Y/N, you are the next to hold them. They are your birthright."

You just looked at the fans in awe, their edges frayed and worn, but the designs still intact. Your fingers hovered over the delicate paper, a sense of responsibility swelling in her chest. The fans weren't just beautiful objects; they represented the legacy of your clan—the quiet, enduring strength that had carried them through the ages.

Your mother continued, her tone becoming more earnest.

 "You are the chosen one, Y/N. Not because of your beauty or power, but because of your heart. The strength that has been passed down to you. This is a burden, but one you must bear with grace, just as our ancestors did. These fans are not just an ornament; they are a reminder of who we are and what we stand for."

You nodded, understanding the weight of your mother's words, the significance of the fans now placed in your hands. They weren't just a token; they were a part of your, of your family's history. The thought of it both honored and terrified you, but there was no escaping the responsibility that came with being chosen to carry on the legacy.

 You held them, and couldn't help but feel both proud and unsure, unsure if you could live up to what your mother hoped for you, to what your ancestors had left behind.

 

...

 

Years passed, and the fans remained a constant presence in your life. They weren't just heirlooms; they were a connection to a past that was always there, silently watching, reminding her of what she was meant to uphold. 

 They were a symbol of something deeper—a symbol of your strength, of your family's endurance, and of the quiet legacy you were meant to carry forward, you rub the Suzaku sigil on the wooden frames.

You found both comfort and pressure, a delicate balance that would define much of her life.

As you grew up, life became busy, and you know, you were never the one to let anything slow you down. You went to an all-girls school was exactly what you'd expect. Drama, friends, rivals, and of course, the occasional trouble. Always had to keep it interesting, right? If she was going to be part of something, she was going to make sure it wasn't boring.

"You're really wearing that to school?" one of your classmates asked, eyeing your disheveled look. You stood in front of the locker, wearing a customer school uniform, that was so your style. The hem of the skirt, barely grazed your thighs, a little too short by the school's standard. Your jacket hung loosely off your shoulders, you couldn't care less about the guidelines.

You flashed a sly grin, leaning against the locker with her usual casual ease. "Why not? If the rules weren't meant to be bent, they wouldn't be there, would they?"

Your classmates rolled their eyes, but there was no denying the charm. You had this magnetic energy, that drew attention. You were practically a walking contradiction, rebellious yet graceful, carefree but sharp. 

The bell rang, pulling you back into reality, but you weren't in a rush. The next class could wait, you lingered in the hallway for a moment longer, feeling the pulse of excitement in her chest. You didn't need a classroom to make your mark. 

The sound of your shoes echoed through the school's hallways, before stopping.

Pushing open the door to her next class, you felt the eyes on you, but you didn't mind it. Walking in with the same style of walking, your head held up high, as you took a seat at your desk. The air seemed to shift like everyone felt her aura.

Your classmates continued to whisper amongst themselves, but Your mind was already somewhere else, your thoughts dancing with ideas for the rest of the day. There were so many ways you could stir things up, so many ways you could make things more interesting. You wasn't going to let the rest of the world decide who you were going to be. You were going to be whatever you wanted, whenever she wanted.

And if that meant turning the entire school upside down for a day, well, you were more than happy to oblige.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of jokes, glances, and whispered conversations.

 

⟡

 

Your carefree attitude hit a wall when you were called into the principal's office for the third time that semester. This time, it wasn't a simple reprimand. You had pushed too far. A few too many pranks, a little too much attitude, and a couple of incidents where your nonchalant disregard for rules had finally caught up to you. You'd been held back for the year, your academic record slipping despite your obvious intelligence. But that wasn't the worst of it. The suspension that followed sealed the deal. Your parents were called in for the meeting, and things quickly spiraled.

Your mother's disappointed sigh echoed through the house as you entered, still carrying the same carefree air, though even you couldn't ignore the tension that hung in the room.

"You're starting a new school," your mother announced, sitting at the dining table with her arms crossed. "A new environment. Somewhere where your antics can't run rampant. You've been given chance after chance, and this is the result."

Your eyes flashed, your hand tightening around the doorframe. "I don't need to be babysat, Mom. I'm fine where I am. It's not like I failed anything."

Your father, seated beside your mother, gave you a sharp look, his voice low but stern. "It's not just about failing classes, you. It's about respect. You've been acting out, and it's not going to be tolerated anymore. Your mother's right. You're starting over."

The words hit you like a slap, and for the first time, your playful attitude faltered. It wasn't that you didn't understand the situation; it was just the thought of being sent somewhere else, starting fresh. It sounded more like punishment than an opportunity.

"Starting fresh? In some dull, boring school?" Your voice dripped with sarcasm. "What, like you're trying to fix me? Turn me into some perfect little student who follows every rule?"

Your mother's gaze softened, but there was a firmness there too. "This isn't about changing who you are, you. It's about finding a place where you can grow. You've got potential—don't waste it."

"Grow?" You laughed bitterly, not caring how your words stung. "You think a new school is going to change anything? You really think I need to be someone I'm not?"

Your father, usually more reserved, stood up, the weight of his words carrying through the air. "If you want to waste your potential, then fine. But we're not sitting back and watching it happen. This is the path you've created for yourself. Now deal with the consequences."

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, broken only by the muffled sound of your sister in the other room, playing quietly, unaware of the argument taking place. You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to lash out, to break something. Instead, you took a long breath and held your ground.

"You're really doing this to me?" Your voice was quieter now, but the frustration still seeped through. "Sending me off to some boring new school, forcing me into a life that's not mine?"

Your father's gaze was unwavering, but his voice softened, "We're trying to give you a better shot, you. We're trying to help you. This—this attitude—it's not going to get you anywhere. It's time to face the reality of your actions."

You stared at them both for a long moment, your heart pounding. They didn't get it. They couldn't. All they saw was a rebellious daughter who didn't care about the consequences. They didn't see that you were trying to carve your own way, that you were playing by your own rules because you didn't believe in the ones they tried to impose on you. The world outside your family felt like a cage, a place where you didn't fit. And now, it seemed like your own parents were trying to force you back into it.

"Fine," you muttered, your voice strained but still defiant. "If you want me to start over so badly, I'll do it. But don't expect me to be anyone else but me."

Your father gave you a long look, almost as if he was weighing your words. Then, he nodded. "Good. That's what I want you to understand. We're not trying to change who you are—we're trying to make sure you don't waste what you've got."

Your mother sighed, rubbing her temples. "I hope you'll see this is for your own good. A new school, a fresh start. It's what you need."

You didn't respond. You just stood there, letting the words wash over you. You didn't feel like fighting anymore. If this was what they wanted, you'd give them the satisfaction. But you couldn't help but feel betrayed as if everything you'd done—the way you had carved your own path—wasn't enough.

The rest of the night was a blur of packing, phone calls, and arrangements. You didn't care to listen as your parents discussed the details. You weren't sure if you'd be able to make it work or if the new school would be any different if they'd let you be who you were. But for now, there wasn't much you could do.

You stood in front of the mirror later that night, staring at your reflection. The uniform you'd been forced to wear was stiff, not as free-spirited as your usual attire. Your fingers brushed against the fans, resting on your desk beside you. Your family had passed them down for generations, expecting you to carry the weight of that legacy, just like the expectations of your new school.

But even if they were trying to box you in, one thing was for sure

you weren't going to change for anyone.

 

⟡

 

Chapter 7: 𝐥ights

 

۶ৎ

 

You stepped onto the cobblestone path, you were looking at the Tokyo Jujutsu High School, the weight of the air—it was thick with cursed energy, old magic buried in the foundation of the school itself.

 

You stepped past the entrance, your ceremonial fans hanging by the side of your waist, tucking neatly into the obi of your uniform. You crossed your arms, you weren't nervous—not really. But the air was different here, heavier than the shrines and temples you trained at.

 

A voice interrupted your thoughts,

 

"Didn't know we getting a new kid, hm..."

 

You turned your head to see a white-haired girl leaning lazily against the pillar, twirling the strand of her silver hair between her manicured fingers. 

 

"You a first-year?" Mei Mei asked, her eyes scanning you, but judging by the tone she used, she already knew the answer.

 

"No," you replied, meeting her gaze without hesitation, "Y/N L/N, second-year...Transferred" you pointed to yourself with a smile on your lips. 

 

Mei Mei arched a brow, then smirked. "A transfer? That's rare. Must mean you're either a prodigy or a problem."

 

"Some call me both" you answered back—you turned your attention back to the school. This was the new place you were going to attend, here to sharpen your technique and become stronger, that's what your parents were nagging you about.

 

that's all you got since you were half-listening to them.

 

"Well..I'm Mei Mei..."

 

Before Mei Mei could press further, another voice cut in, making you turn to the voice.

 

"Oi, who's the new girl?" 

 

You saw a white-haired boy approaching from across the courtyard, and a black-haired boy right beside him. Even before they spoke, their presence was loud. The white-haired boy, with his ridiculous sunglasses, had a smug grin on his face and walked with an energy that demanded attention. Compared to the black-haired guy beside him, he was calmer, no less confident with an amused expression on his face.

 

"She looks serious," The black-haired guy remarked, tilting his head to analyze you further. 

 

"Too serious to be talking to you, Gojo"

 

Your eyes flickered to the white-haired boy he was referring to, Gojo..huh.

 

Gojo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if had been personally wounded by his comment. "What's that supposed to mean, Geto!" he exclaimed, before turning his glasses just enough to reveal his piercing blue eyes.

 

"So... what's your deal? You got some crazy technique or something?"

 

"Well, I'm Y/N L/N and my technique is vermillion winds," You said, clasping your hands with a smile.  Putting your pointer finger up, "It's just fire manipulation, purification, and exorcism using my fans, pretty cool right!"

 

That got their attention, fast.

 

"Yeah!" Gojo grinned, "So, you're fancy. Gotta admit I like the aesthetic!" 

 

Mei Mei, who had been quiet until now, chuckled. "Sounds powerful. But tell me —does it burn sorcerers as well as it burns curses"

 

You focus your attention on Mei Mei, she is scanning you for a potential investment, as her gaze is assessing if you are a competitor or an important asset.

"Well—hm..it depends on the sorcerer" you respond back, thinking about it for a moment.

 

The answer seemed to satisfy the girl, as she gave you a small nod, stepping away. "Well, I'm sure we'll find out soon enough"

 

"You're blocking the door."

 

You turned to see a brown-haired girl, standing a few feet away a cigarette between her lips. Unlike the other, she didn't seem particularly intrigued by you, just seeing you as a mild inconvenience.

 

"You must be the new second-year," Shoko said, her tone flat. "Welcome, I guess. Try not to die."

 

There was a beat of silence before Gojo interrupted it with laughter, "Classic Shoko"

 

You nodded at her, "I didn't know I was so known, I just stepped in" you exclaimed, 

 

"Well, yaga-sensei told us a new student would be coming here" Geto responded to your question. 

 

𝜗𝜚

 

Your first day at Jujustu High was far from eventful—it was a damn spectacle. 

 

the introduction had barely passed before Mei Mei took you under her wing, guiding her through the school. You could feel the energy embedded in the school through all the sorcerers that were here before you.

 

Trailing behind them, were Gojo and Geto lingered like two stray cats sniffing out something from their new classmate.

 

"So..what's the real story?" Geto asked, his voice smooth but laced with curiosity. 

 

"Nobody just transfers here without a good reason"

 

You just flashed him one of your infamous grins, tossing your hair over your shoulder. "What can't a girl just want a change of scenery?" you said, closing your eyes with a smile on your face.

 

Mei Mei just gave you a dry look, "Not this kind of scenery"

 

"Fine, fine.." You sighed, stretching her arm lazily. "I wanted stronger opponents. Gotta keep things interesting."

 

Gojo let out a whistle, rocking back on his heels. "Oho~, so she's got a bit of thrill-seeking type"

 

Mei Mei hummed, amused at you. "That kind of mindset gets people killed" she blankily says, you just smirks, unfazed. "Then I'll just have to be too pretty to die" you mused

 

Geto chuckled, shaking his head. "Confidence is good. Arrogance? Debatable."

 

You shrug. "Guess we'll find out which one I am soon enough" you playfully stick out your tongue.

 

"Oh great, new girl!"

 

You turned your head to see a girl with dark hair, rounding the corner, waving at you. She looked like she was already exhausted with life. Gojo grinned wide, "Utahime!" Have you come to bask in the presence of our new, charming transfer student?"

 

Utahime just ignores him, rubbing her temple. "No, Yaga-sensei wants her in the training halls—Now."

 

You perked up, "Ooh, a test already? You guys don't waste time, huh:

 

Utahime crossed her arms, looking at you. "Ooooh, this should be good." you clasp your hands,

 

Mei mei glanced at you, with an amused tilt of her head. "Looks like you're getting what you wanted. Stronger opponents."

 

You just rolled your shoulders, a playful glint in your eyes. "Well...can't back out now. Besides, I do love a good first impression" you said, your eyes flickering to Utahime.

 

"Wait..."

 

"Huh"

 

Utahime pointed to you, before crossing her arms, blocking your path. You just blinked, "...What"

 

Utahime gestured at your clothes—specifically, the halter-style jujutsu uniform you were wearing, clinging to your curved frame, the sleeves attached separately while your chest was a little exposed, more visible from the standard uniform allowed.

 

"That" Utahime said flatly, "Your uniform is out of regulation. You're practically spilling out," she said blankly.

 

You tilted your head to the side, glancing at yourself for a moment before looking back up at her with a raised brow, with a smug smile on your lips. "Ohhh—, so this is a dress code talk."

 

"Yes" Utahime deadpanned, "You need a proper uniform"

 

You hummed, pretending to think about it. 

 

"Mmm... yeah, no" 

 

"It's not optional"

 

"I mean, I could change," You said dramatically, placing a hand on your hip, "But... like, wouldn't that just be a shame?"

 

Before Utahime could respond back to you, Gojo chimed in.

 

"No, no, she's right" Gojo cut in, stepping up beside them with an exaggerated sigh.

 

"Utahmine, you just don't understand fashion. This—" he gestures to you with both hands

 

"—is a statement"

 

Utahime shot him a glare. "This is a violation"

 

"That's what makes it so cool" Gojo shot back, exclaiming.

 

You were watching this whole thing unfold, enjoying it far too much, with a smirk on your face. "See? He gets it.."

 

Utahime pinched the bridge of her nose, "Gojo, you are not helping" she groaned.

 

Geto, who has been observing from a few feet away, chuckled. "You're really wasting your breath, Utahime. Once Gojo picks a side, he commits" his arms were crossed, as he looked at Utahime rolling her eyes.

 

You turned to Gojo, a teasing glint in your eyes, "Aw, you on my side, Gojo?"

 

"Of course," he grinned, adjusting his sunglasses. "It'd be a crime to cover all that up."  Utahime groans, "That's literally the problem."

 

You exhaled finally, looking back at Utahime with a lazy smile. "Fine, fine. I'll think about it."

 

Utahime's eyes narrowed. "That better man actually thinking about it, not just ignoring me."

 

"No promises," You sing a song before winking at her, you skipping away.

 

"See? Best transfer student ever" Gojo elbowed Geto,

 

Utahime just groaned,

 

"Hey...guys—where is the training hall" you said, rubbing the back of your neck with a teardrop summoning on the side of your head.

 

...

After being hit by the fashion police with Utahime, you made your way to the training hall, and you followed behind Utahime who was clearly tired of you. 

You opened the doors, strolling in. You looked to see a tall man, with his hands crossed, waiting on you. 

 

'This must be yaga-sensei' you thought,

 

'He's so serious' you felt a teardrop summoning again. You blinked for a moment seeing the scene, A few students were lingering—Mei mei, geto, and unfamiliar faces. A serious, blonde one was standing near Geto and also standing with a wide-eyed brown-haired boy who had a smile on his face. Gojo, of course, was making himself comfortable off to the side, leaning against the wall.

 

"Took you long enough," Geto remarked, breaking the silence in the hall.

 

You shrugged, unbothered. "You saw it had a very serious talk about my very serious crimes against the dress code."

 

Mei Mei chuckled under her breath, "And yet, you're still wearing it"

 

"Obviously," You grinned. "Can't let Utahime win."

 

Gojo gave you a thumbs-up. "I respect the dedication..."

 

Yaga, however, was not amused. "If you're done wasting time, let's begin."

 

You held up your hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to be so intense sensei" you smiled.

 

"Take this seriously," Yaga said firmly.

 

You gave a salute, "Of course!"

 

"Good." He turned to the group beside him, "Today's training is combat-focused. Pair up, sparring is meant to test endurance, technique, and adaptability. No cursed techniques" 

 

You tilt your head, "Oh? Keeping it old school, I like it sensei!" 

 

"Hand-to-hand combat is the foundation of every sorcerer's skill set," Yaga replied.

 

"Fair enough." You rolled your shoulders, "So who's my lucky victim here" You mused, looking around.

 

"I'll spar with you"

 

You turned your head to see Geto offering to spar with you, stepping forward. Gojo gasped dramatically. "Suguru, I thought we were friends."

"You hate sparring," Geto deadpanned.

 

"That's not the point," Gojo scoffed. "The point I feel betrayed."

 

You snickered, before cracking your knuckles. "Alright, alright. Let's get to it before Gojo starts crying."

 

The group shifted, making space for a sparring session. You stepped onto the mat, shaking your arms out, rolling your neck. 

 

Geto stood across from you, relaxed but sharp-eyed. "I'll go easy on you."

 

You scoffed, "Cute, you think I need it."

 

Geto just smiled, "We'll see."

 

Yaga raised a hand, "Begin."

 

Geto was fast, catching you off-guard initially. He was moving with a sharp jab, and you almost didn't dodge it, feeling the wind of his punch skimming your cheek. You stepped back, "Not bad" you admitted, dodging him. 

 

"But I hope you're not holding back too much."

 

You twisted your body, countering with a low sweep toward his legs, but Geto hopped back smoothly, avoiding it with ease.

 

"Your reaction time is good," he noted

"—And your compliments are distracting" You teased, darting in closer, throwing your fist at him. Feining left, then twisting right, using your momentum to throw a well-aimed elbow toward his ribs. Geto barely blocked in time, his forearm absorbing the hit. He used the opening to grab your wrist, twisting just enough to throw you off balance.

 

You weren't easily thrown, you adjusted to the mid-motion, shifting your weight and twisting out of his grip, landing a sharp knee aimed at his stomach. 

It connected—just barely.

 

Geto exhaled, stepping back from you,

 

Then—he moved again, faster this time, he wasn't going easy on you and you weren't either. 

 

The blows were exchanged, blocks were met with counter, every movement pushing for control. It was just back and forth, neither of you was going to give up so easily, you were putting speed into the fight, your fist being thrown, unpredictability—but compared to get, he had discipline the patience.

 

Perfect push-and-pull.

 

Then you found an opening, for a split second, you feinted low, forcing him to adjust to your movement. Before he could recover, you twisted into a sharp, forceful strike—aimed straight at him.

 

Expect—

 

He caught your wrist at the last second, his grip was tight on you.

 

You narrowed your eyes at him, your faces just inches apart, as you breathed in and out, trying to recover your stamina. You blinked, swisking your wrist away from his grip.

 

"Well..played!" you exclaimed,

 

Geto exhaled at you, "Likewise."

 

"Are they flirting, or is that just me?" You turned to see Gojo's voice cutting through the moment—to see him grinning like a damn idiot.

 

The blonde guy just sighed. "It's just you"

 

Mei Mei hummed, "No, I see it too"

 

"I mean he's kinda...cute" you blankily said, knowing that Geto was right beside you, you turned to him with a smile.

 

"You're distracting."

 

"It's a gift" you smirked,

 

Yaga sighed, rubbing his temple,  "Enough"

 

You turned to him, giving him a two-finger salute. "Yes, sir!" you exclaimed, bowing slightly with a smile.

 

"You're capable," Yaga said simply, "You'll need refinement, but you'll fit in here."

 

"I always fit in," You shot back playfully.

 

𝜗𝜚

Chapter 8: 𝐍ew faces

 

۶ৎ

 

 

You stepped on the mat, shaking your sore wrist, with a point on your lips. Your e/c eyes caught sight of two more students who were watching from the sidelines.

One was  tall, lanky,, with blond hair; that sort of emo style that was trending, and with that kind of posture that screamed he was serious just like Yaga. The other one was completely the opposite, he reminded you of a golden retriever—he was grinning, slightly bouncing on his heels, and dark hair messy in a way that felt effortless.

 

"Oh..," You drawled, sizing them up. It was easy since you were easily as tall as the blonde one just a few inches shorter, "New faces."

 

The blonde one adjusted his uniform, " Kento Nanami ," he introduced, his tone was polite but stiff, 

 

"First year.."

 

'so serious' you mumbled,

 

"Yu Haibara! But you can just call me Haibara. You were amazing back there!" The other boy beamed, making you chuckle a little making him blush in response. 

 

'sweet' you thought, his smile was so bright, it made you wanna smile too. You smirk, "What, that little match? Please, I was just warming up." You made a dramatic pose,

 

Haibara laughed. "I like her!"

 

Nanami beside him just sighed, already looking exhausted, "You like everyone.."

 

"That's because people are great," Haibara shot back with a smile on his face.

 

"That is incorrect"

 

You just chuckle at the back-and-forth argument, "Ohhh, I like this dynamic. Lemme guess—Haibara is the golden retriever and you're the grumpy black cat?" 

Haibara lit from just your comment alone, "See? She gets it!"

 

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, "That is going to be insufferable."

 

⟡

 

Mei Mei, who had been observing with an amused smirk from the sidelines, turned her attention to Yaga. "She's blending in nicely"

 

Yaga just exhaled heavily, clearly deciding to ignore whatever chaos was beholding before him, "Since you're all acquainted now, let's move on to group training. Pair up again."

 

"Dibs on Y/N!" Haibara called out immediately, his hand raised.

 

"Denied," Nanami said flatly,

 

Y/N raised a brow, turning to the blonde with a smug smirk on your face, "Oh? You wanna spar, Nanamin?" you said, 

 

His eye twitched at the nickname, "I never said that."

 

"Too late," You exclaimed, cracking your knuckles, "—Because I accept." you pointed to yourself,

 

"Man, no fair!" Haibara pouted, and you laughed at the brown-haired pouting boy.

 

"Don't worry," Gojo chimed in, throwing an arm around Haibara's shoulders, "You can have me!"

 

Haibara paled, "Actually, on second thought—"

 

"Too late" Geto chuckled, "You already accepted"

 

You cackled like a maniac as you watched Haibara let out a quiet 'help me' before being dragged off to the mats by Gojo. Before you turned your attention to Nanami who sighed deeply, giving you a resigned and mildly annoyed stare.

 

"You are going to take this seriously, right?"

 

A mischievous grin stains your face, stepping onto the mat, "Oh, who me—absolutely!"

 

You were practically bouncing lightly on your feet, ready to test your mettle against your lower classmen. 

 

"Alright, Nanamin," you teased, clasping your hands together. "Show me what you got,"

 

Nanami frowned, adjusting his stance, "Just so you know, I won't be going easy on you,"

 

"I wouldn't have it any other way," you shot back, practically brimming with excitement. It was flowing through your veins.

 

"You may begin," Yaga announced, stepping back to observe.

 

Nanami came in fast, throwing a solid punch aimed at your midsection. You dodged, slipping to the side, and throwing a quick jab towards his ribs. He blocked it easily though, 

 

Testing the water, you could tell that Nanami was methodical with his movement, his movements were precise, planned, and calculated. He didn't rush at you, just waiting for openings, and you weren't going to give it to him.

 

"You're good," you said, your voice steady as he just looked at you. Hmm, seemed like he didn't talk in combat. You just took the silence, darting in closer and aiming a roundhouse kick at his side. He blocked—of course, he did. Using your momentum to pivot and twist, landing a solid hit with your knee at his abdomen.

 

Nanami grunted from the hit, but regained his composure, stepping back as you stood there with a smile on your face. You were having little way too much fun, "your unpredictable"

 

"Being unpredictable is my strength" You said, feeling a rush of adrenaline, "Keep everyone on their toes"

 

"Or leaves you open" Nanami replied, launching into a series of quick strikes a you. You barely dodged them with how fast he was going, his movements were a flurry of energy coming toward you, and you were taken aback. 

 

The sparring was long—but you were enjoying it, pushing forward. It seemed like he adjusted his strategies with you, countering your unpredictable moves.

'smart'

 

After a few quick attacks, you finally found an opening—there! landing a solid punch on his shoulder, playfully but firmly.

"Haha! Got you" You exclaimed.

 

Nanami froze for a split second, blinking for a moment as he held his shoulder. Before looking at you, then—when you struck again you caged him between your arms, ruffling his hair with a teasing grin.

 

"Aw, don't point, Nanamin" you cooed, grinning. "You're still my favorite brick wall and lowerclassmen"

 

His eyes twitched, and his expression unreadable. As you messed up his usually neat blonde hair. You caught the tiniest flicker of something—surprise? Maybe a even mild alarm of how easily you manage to close in on him.

 

You released with a chuckle, Gojo was already laughing as it rang out from the sidelines from his own mat, with Haibara already out of it.

"She's bold!"

 

Nanami exhaled sharply, before fixing him with a deadpan look, "That was unnecessary."

 

You winked at him, "But it was funny.."

 

He looked at you for a moment, before huffing out.

 

...

 

After the sparring session, the atmosphere in the training hall was released. You found yourself sitting on the edge of the low bench, wiping the sweat from your forehead, while Nanami leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and Yu sprawled out beside her, a grin on his face.

 

"Nice moves back there," Yu said, nudging you playfully with his elbow. "I didn't expect you to be that, y/n"

 

"Please...I've been training long enough. If I didn't impress you, something is wrong" You shot back a grin,

 

"Confidence is good," Nanami said, "—just don't let it turn into arrogance."

 

You rolled your eyes dramatically, "Arrogance? Me? Never" 

 

"Right. And I'm the king of sorcerers," Yu added sarcastically, winking at her.

 

"Well, you do have the hair for it," You teased, reaching out to mess up his hair playfully.

"Hey!" Yu laughed, swatting your hand away. 

 

Nanami just shook his head at their antics, a small chuckle coming out of his lips, "If you two keep this up, we'll be here all day. You know we still have more training to get back to, right?"

"Relax Nanamin," You said, leaning back on your hand, "A little break won't kill us."

"Tell that yaga-sensei" Nanami replied, his tone dry.

"Don't tell me you're one of those students who don't have fun," You said, feigning shock,

"That so...—boring" 

"I can't be held back like you" he gave you a flat stare, 

"How sassy.."

 

...

"You better not be messy" 

Utahime's voice was flat, but side-eyeing you as she led you towards the dormitories. You grinned, stretching your arms above your head, as you strolled beside her.

"Messy? Me?" You place a hand over your chest dramatically. "I'll have you know, I'm a woman of refined habits," you said with a faux posh accent.

Utahime scoffed. "Refined, huh? You showed up to school with half your chest out."

You gasped, feigning offense. "Excuse me, that's called fashion.." you strike a pose,

 

Utahime just groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I don't get paid enough for this.."

"You don't get paid at all" you teased, she muttered something under breath her breath, as you looked around. The dorms were regular, just like your last school. Utahime stopped in front of a dorm room as you stopped as well, 

 

"Here, this one's yours." she opened the door, giving you the keys. You peered at the door curiously, then turned back to her with a curious tilt of your head, "So, do I get a tour? Maybe a welcome gift. Some chocolates on my pillows or a welcome basket?"

 

Utahime crossed her arms, "You get a bed, desk, and functioning plumbing. Take it or leave it."

 

You just chuckled, stepping inside the dorm. It was a standard dorm room—simple, but clean just enough space for you. A bed was pressed against the wall, a small desk sat by the window, and there was a closet in the corner. Nothing fancy, but it will do. Just need a little sparkle sparkle and your taste of decor.

You dropped your bad onto the bed, turning back to Utahime with a grin. "Not bad, I was expecting something haunted"

"Only the boy's dorm," she said dryly, you laughed at her comment, before sitting on your new bed.

 

"So, do I have a roommate, or am I special enough to get my own space?"

 

Utahime just shrugged, "For now, you're on your own. But don't get comfortable. Yaga likes to shove people together when space gets tight."

'Noted' you rested your chin on your palm, "So.." you drawled,

 

"What the deal around here? Any weird dorm rules...do I have to worry about any pranks or something"

Utahime sighed, "Unfortunately, yes. Keep your windows locked"

 

"Like a horror movie, huh?"

 

"And you would be the dumb protagonist who leaves the door open"

 

You laughed again, "I'll keep that in mind"

Utahime began to walk out before she stopped, a brief pause before Utahime turned back to you, leaning back against the doorframe. Her tone shifting slightly, " You gonna be alright here?" she asked,

 

You blinked, before grinning instantly, "Aww you're worried about me?" 

Utahime groaned, rubbing her temples, "I regret asking.."

 

"—but I'll be fine, Utahime. But I'm touched" you said,

she just scoffed, "Just don't die.."

 

With that, she turned on her heels and walked off, but you swore you saw a little tiny smile on her face before she left. The door clicked shut behind her.

Chapter 9: 𝐇ome sweet home

۶ৎ

 

You woke to the sound of knocking, and you groaned. Your brain was still foggy, rubbing your face as you opened your eyes fully. You must have passed out while unpacking—your suitcase was still open with half of its contents spilling out—your panties, bra, and everything sprawled on the floor.

You were still in the same clothes from yesterday, 

"Hm.." you stared at the mess, and then the knock came again sharper this time.

"Yeah, yeah—I'm coming jeez, utahime!" you exclaimed, you pushed yourself up and stretched with a loud yawn. Your muscles protested, still stiff from the awkward sleeping position. You barely got to step towards the door and open it before it swung open.

The familiar white-haired boy was in front of you, "Rise and shine, princess"

"You're not Utahime.." you groaned, you looked at Gojo Satoru who was standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, a shit-eating grin firmly in place. 

You blinked a him, the bright sunlight streaming from the window, "...What time is it?" you asked, 

"Late," he said cheerfully, "Well...—not late late, but late enough that Utahime is going to have an aneurysm if you don't get up soon."

You groaned, your hands on your hips, "First morning here, and your already in my room, obsessed much" 

He just smirked, "Can you blame me? Had to see if our new transfer was still alive." His gaze flickered over your wrinkled uniform, "Eyes up here, gojo"

He just chuckled, your brain was still foggy but something clicked in your still-waking-up brain, and then you frowned. Pointing at him, "How the hell are you even in the girl's dorm"

Gojo just shrugged, completely unbothered, "Oh, you know. Charm—wit and my cool ability to bypass anything and rules."

"You mean you broke in," you said blankily.

He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest with the fake offense, "Broke in? I'd never, just knock on the dorm and someone let me in"

You cocked your eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him,

"And I may or may not have sweet-talked a first-year into leaving the side door open for me last night, but that's beside the point"

You exhaled,

Gojo leaned against the doorframe, "Well, lucky for you, Utahmine's taking you on a grand tour of dorms today. Which means you have to look presentable.."

"Sounds thrilling" You yawned again, stretching your arms over your head, "Give me five minutes" 

Gojo's grin widened, "Take seven. I wanna see Utahime lose it"

You just threw a pillow at him, "Out"

He dodged effortlessly, laughing as he easily ducked the pillow. You looked at the uniform that was on the desk—grabbing the uniform, the original uniform, the one Utahime was so pressed about—ugh, 

 

...

it only took you a few minutes to get ready, the regular uniform—it was different, a little baggy on you, but it still fit well, you looked in the mirror. You were fixing your hair before another knock came at the door—this was sharper, way less patient than Gojo's.

Before you don't turn, you just see the door swinging open from your peripheral vision, to see Utahime standing there with her arms crossed, already looking annoyed.

"You're late," she said flatly,

"Good morning to you too" you smiled, "Besides—it was Gojo's fault, he broke into my room"

Utahime visibly twitched, "Of course he did" she muttered,

"I know right, you guys should really tighten security around here.." you said, fixing your eyeliner. She exhaled sharply, clearly deciding you weren't the immediate problem, "And finished" you smiled, turning to her.

"Come on, I'm supposed to show you around the dorms before your first real mission—try to keep up"

"Of course~" 

You were following her down the hall, hands lazily tucked into your pockets. The dorms were pretty standard—long hallways, doors on either side, a few windows letting in some morning light. Utahime kept the explanation short and straight to the point, "Bathrooms are shared. The kitchen is downstairs, though most of the time—people just eat at the cafeteria. Common rooms at the end of the hall, if you ever feel like studying. Though, judging you already—I doubt you're studious type"

You grinned, stretching your arms above your head, "Aww, you can tell already? I'm touched" You smiled.

She ignored you, stopping in front of the door, "That's mine if you need anything—knock, politely"

"Noted, so I can bother you"

"What No—"

You were pushing her buttons, and you were smiling at her as she was getting quickly annoyed with your personality.

"Utahime..did you already lose our transfer student?"

You turned to see Geto strolling toward you, hands casually in his pockets. His expression was shifted with amusement when he saw you standing beside Utahime.

"I'm right here" you sing-song, waving your hand.

He chuckled, "Ah, good. For a second, I thought Gojo might've kidnapped you."

"Close, he just broke into my room at sunrise."

Geto sighed, "Of course he did"

Utahime looked like she was going to get a migraine, "Can we please finish the tour without mentioning Gojo or any of his bad habits being talked about"

"No promises," you said,

"Doubt it"

Utahime just groaned and just kept on walking, you exchanged a look with Geto before following her, 

 

.

 

With the tour officially over, you stretched your arms above your head, rolling your shoulders with a satisfied sigh. "Alright, I think I got the lay of the land. Now the real question is—Utahime, you wanna hang out?"

Utahime blinked at you, mildly surprised, "What?"

You leaned in slightly, grinning. "Y'know, hang out? Chill? Bond? Become besties?"

Utahime scoffed, "We are not becoming besties, y/n"

"Not with that attitude," you teased, nudging her arm.

Geto, who had been watching this whole exchange with clear amusement, smirked. "You should take her up on it, Utahime. It's not every day someone willingly asks to spend time with you."

Utahmine shot him a glare, "You all spend time with me"

"Yeah, but we don't ask to" He replied smoothly, 

"Hey—"

You snickered, then turned back to Utahime with a playful pout. "C'mon, it's not like I bite, unless—you're into that" You poked at her cheek, making her flustered.

She groaned, swatting our hand, "You and Gojo are going to be the death of me."

You put a hand on your chest, feigning offense, "Ouch—comparing me to him? That's so cruel" you whined,

Geto chuckled, "You are slightly more tolerable."

"See? Slighty!" you shot back a hopeful look to Utahime. "So, what do you say? A little post-tour bonding session? We could get food, gossip about the guys, maybe even braid each other's hair"

Utahmine sighed, clearly torn between exhaustion and mild amusement, "... Fine, but if Gojo shows up, I'm leaving immediately"

"Fine, deal!"

You looped your arms around hers. Utahime groaned as you dragged her with you. Geto was just shaking his head, chuckling under his breath.

 

𝜗𝜚

 

 

You were slouching in Yaga's office, your arms crossed. The stiff collar of the standard jujutsu high uniform was practically suffocating you—you hated it so much. You were tugging at it while you were on the tour with Utahime. 

'so baggy' you muttered, you didn't uniforms but you hated this one probably going to burn this when your done. The high collar felt restrictive, and overall the look was so drab. No flair, no style—just the same boring black fabric every other sorcerer wore.

Yaga seemed not to care about your suffering.

"You've got your first official mission," he stated, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. You perked up slightly, your mind off your uniform, "Finally."

"You leave in ten minutes," he continued, flipping through some papers. "You'll be meeting your partner at the front gates."

'Partner.." you tilted your head, "Who would that be.."

"Nanami."

You blinked, a smirk gracing your face, "Nanamin! This is going to be fun" you exclaimed, your hand spreading out in joy.

Yaga gave you a long, knowing look, "Do not antagonize him.."

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest, "Me? Antagonize? Sensei, you wound me." you said, 

His stare remained flat.

You sighed, "Alright, alright—anything else?"

Yaga nodded, "This should be a simple mission, routine curse extermination—but I need to make sure you're capable of working in a team."

You scoffed, resting your chin in your palm, "Teamwork isn't that hard."

"For you, I suspect it will be"

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up from your seat, "If that is all, I'll be going then" you said, stepping as you strolled out of his office.

 

..

 

 

You were walking down near the entrance, your footsteps echoing as your eyes flickered to spot Nanami already there, looking as much put-together as ever. His uniform was crisp, as he stood with that ever-serious look on his face.

You were still tugging at your uniform collar with annoyance, rolling your eyes, 

"This is a new change," he said, eyeing you as you were fiddling with the fabric. You groaned, "This thing is awful—how do you even..wear this without going insane, ughh"

"It's just a uniform"

"It's oppressive," you corrected an annoyed look on your face, "So restrictive, completely void of personality, look at me" you grumbled.

"And yet, your here—still wearing it" he pointed out,

You dramatically, throwing your hands in the air, "I was forced to wear it"

"Good," Nanami said, "Maybe you'll take things more seriously"

"Your so cruel, Nanamin"

His eyes twitched,

Before you could respond, a car pulled up beside you, it was a guy wearing a suit, 

"Are you two ready?"

"Woahh!—we get a personal driver" You leaned into the car window, inspecting the interior with curiosity. The seats were plush, the controls were modern— it was nicer than you expected for a simple exorcism mission.

Nanami sighed, rubbing his temple, "It's not luxury, just standard protocol"v

You slid into the car quickly, the car was sleek and new. You made yourself comfortable, "Damn..this thing is nice"

The driver coughed awkwardly, "I-it's just a vehicle for transportation"

"Uh-huh" you hummed, running your finger on the smooth interior, "I could get used to this," you said, leaning back. Nanami got in beside you, visibly done with antics before you guys even got to leave the school.

.

The car ride was mostly quiet with the sounds of humming coming from the outside. Nanami was quiet—not much of a talker. You were just talking your socks off in the ride,

"So, where exactly are we going?" you asked, propping your chin on your hand as you gazed out of the window, the tree passing you by, you just counted how many trees you could see and it was—a lot.

"A warehouse district outside of Tokyo," The driver, you learned the name to be Kenji answered from the front. "There have been reports of workers disappearing, and residual cursed energy has been detected in the area."

You hummed, turning to Nanami, "Just some low-grade curses, lurking around or is it more, maybe more fun?"

"Curses shouldn't be fun" he replied shortly, not even looking at you. You nudged his arm with your elbow, "You're such a killjoy."

"I'm a realist."

You smirked, leaning in just a bit, "Suuuuure you are."

Nanami closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as if summoning some patience for you.

The car soon slowed as Kenji pulled into the empty lot near a series of abandoned warehouses—the area had an eerie stillness, the air thick with something unseen. Even without cursed energy flaring up, the atmosphere itself felt..off.

You got out of the car, stepping out on the old concrete floor. "Welp, let's get this over with hm?" 

Nanami just got out of the car, closing the door, "Stay focused,"

You grinned, throwing your head back, "Always"

 

.

 

The air inside was musty, filled with dust and the faint stench of something rotten. The faint moonlight streaming through the broken windows cast a long shadow over the rusted metal beams and discarded crates that were stained with rusty red blood.

You walked ahead, your boots echoing softly on the concrete. "So, what's the plan oh mighty strategist?" You already got your rituals fans out in your fans.

Nanami just sighed, "We locate the source of cursed energy and eliminate it."

You snorted, "No shit" you chuckled,

He ignores you, scanning the area with his sharp brown eyes, "Stay close"

"Aww, you do care."

"No," he said immediately, "I just don't want to explain to Yaga how you got yourself killed because you were too busy cracking jokes.." he sighed,

"Awww—you are worried about me..." 

Before he could snap back, a heavy thud sounded from deeper inside the warehouse, both of you just stilled, not moving. As you turned your head to the echoed source of the sound,—then another thud,

and another.

something was moving, 

Nanami tensed, his hand gripping the handles of his weapon. You, however, already had your hands on your fans, flicking them open. A low guttural growl echoed through the building, followed by the sound of something heavy dragging along the ground,

You turned to Nanami, "I bet you, I can take this thing down first."

Nanami just sighed, "We are not making this a competition"

You ignored him, stepping forward, 

"Too late!"

 

Chapter 10: 𝐅ireball

۶ৎ

 

Your fingers tightened around your fans, the cool metal pressing against your palms. You felt the cursed energy near, it was clinging to the air. The adrenaline in your veins burns hotter like a flame.

The movement was fast—as you followed the sound, as your eyes caught the slight shift in the shadows, too fast to be natural—your feet pounding against the cracked concrete, the world around you blurring as you swerved around the walls,

"Hey—wait!"

Nanami's voice rang out behind you, sharp with frustration, but you barely registered in your head, you were already locked in. Your legs were moving at this point as you ran toward the location. 

then—you stopped.

A grotesque figure lurched from the darkness, it had twisted limbs spamming unnaturally, bone protruding through the stretched, discolored flesh. Its jagged teeth glistened in the dim light, its body pulsating with raw, unstable cursed energy. The way it moved was erratic, its eye—or what was left of it.

Ew..

"Found you" you grinned, you flicked your fans open, flicking your wrist

'VERMILLION WIND'

The air shifted—the temperature around you was increasing, and the shimmering red-tinted gust surged forth, razor-sharp, precise. The force strikes the curse's side, clinging deep, jagged wound across its torso. It reeled back in pain, shrieking in pain, as it slammed one massive clawed hand into a pile of crates that exploded into splinters.

You didn't hesitate, running up on the curse.

Weaving through the rusted beams and shattered debris, your movement was fluid, and effortless—every step was carried by the hum of your technique, 

The curse wasn't going down easy to your dismay, with an ear-splitting screech, it lunged towards you—joint snapping at unnatural angles, elongated arm slicing towards you in a blur. 

your instinct was practically screaming at you—

You dropped low, sliding beneath the swing as the jagged claws tore through the space where your head had been seconds before. The force of the attack sent dust flying everywhere, 

"Damn," you muttered, twisting mid-air, landing gracefully a few feet away. The curse snarled, its beady, sunken eyes tracking your movement mindlessly.

Behind you, you heard footsteps approaching you—steady, controlled. You turned your head to see Nanami.

He appeared at your side, his jaw tight, irritation etched into his expression. 

"Would it kill you to wait for backup?" His voice was flat, unimpressed.

"Maybe" you teased, still grinning, twirling your fans between your fingers, "But we have to kill this ugly thing" You pointed at the curse,

His exhale was sharp—exasperated—but he didn't argue just getting in his fighting stance. 

"Reckless.."

"Effective" you retorted.

The curse let out a low, guttural growl, its grotesque limbs twitching, its cursed energy spiking erratically, 

it was desperate.

Nanami moved first—his body blurring forward, his blade cutting through the air in a clean, merciless arc. The curse swung wildly to block—big mistake.

You snapped your fans, a crimson gale surged—sharper, faster, hotter. The fire from the winds, carved into the curse's exposed flank, the flame licking at its skin, slicing through the muscle and bone like paper.

The creature howled, its malformed body convulsing.

Nanami seized the opening. No wasted movement, no hesitation—his blade cleaved through its arm in one precise strike. The curse bleeding out from its worst, the curse staggering, trembling violently.

"Let's finish this," Nanami said, steady.

"Took you long enough" 

Together you started moving towards the curse. One final, synchronized strike—and then the curse was exorcised. Then silence followed, your breathing was slightly uneven, heart still pounding from all the adrenaline coursing through your veins.  Nanami, standing beside you, ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his expression unreadable.

Then, finally—he broke the silence,

"I'm never partnering with you again"

You gave him a lazy smile, the adrenaline buzzing through your limbs. "Don't be like that Nanamin~" you cooed, flashing a teasing wink, "We made a great team, don't cha think" 

He stared at you, unimpressed, "That's debatable"

"Oh come, on" you nudged him with your elbow.

"Admit it, this was fun"

With a sharp exhale, a twitch from his jaw—the closest thing to a reluctant amusement coming from you,

"...Just don't get yourself killed" 

His look was unamused. Without another word, he turned, walking off.

You just laughed, spinning on your heels to follow him back.

 

⟡

 

 

The fluorescent lights in Yaga's office buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the room. You were sitting down on the couch, twirling your folded faw between your manicured fingers, as Nanami was standing stiffly, the perfect picture of—professionalism.

Yaga sat behind his desk, hands clasped together, listening to his debriefing of the mission you both were on.

"...Despite the initial lack of intel, we successfully eliminated the threat without further casualties," Nanami finishes,

Yaga's sharp eye flickered to you, "And your input?"

You shrugged, barely suppressing with a smirk. "We won, didn't we?" 

Nanami exhaled simply through his nose, Yaga's brow twitched,

 "That's not an answer."

"Fine, fine" You straightened, tapping your fans against your palm. "The curse was unstable. High energy output, but reckless. It relied more on its brute strength than intelligence, so once we figured out its attack patterns, taking it down was just a matter of timing and weakening it as a whole"

"And?"

"Nanamin and I made a great team, huh?" you smiled, Nanami's jaw clenched, "We are not a team..."

Yaga sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You were supposed to wait for backup"

"I had backup," you gestured vaguely to Nanami, "But we lived through, no harm, no foul"

Nanami shot a look at you, "That is not how the protocol works, y/n"

"You're alive, aren't you?"

"That's not the point—"

"Enough.." Yaga's voice cut in through the room like a knife, his gaze was settled on you, firm. "You're reckless.."

"I'm effective," you corrected, mirroring Nanami's earlier words with a teasing lilt. Yaga wasn't amused, "If you run into battles alone like that, one day you won't be"

You watched as something flickered in his eyes then—concern, maybe... frustration. It was hard to tell with Yaga, but you understood the weight of his words, even if you didn't let it show.

Silence brushed over, 

"I'll...be more careful," you said, your voice a little quiet.  Yaga looked at you then leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Now..get out of my office" he muttered.

You grinned, "With pleasure" getting up from the couch, turning on your heels.

As you stepped into the hallway, you stretched your arms above your head. Nanami followed behind, his footsteps steady and composed.

"You are insufferable," he muttered,

"But..you love it" you shot back, flashing him a teasing grin.

He didn't respond, but you caught a slight twitch of his jaw—just enough to tell he was obviously holding back a comment towards you. You clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him sigh. "Come on, Nanamin. Let's go get some udon, huh—it's on me, I promise" You smiled,

Nanami gave you a side glance, debating whether to answer you. Before exhaling, 

"...Fine.."

...

 

 You manage to find a little udon shop that wasn't fancy but a quiet hole-in-the-wall tucked between larger buildings, the kind of place locals knew about and went to. 

"Hey, nanamin~, let's go here!" you exclaimed,

The air was thick with the comforting scent of broth, freshly made noodles, and sizzling tempura. The steam curled from your bowl as you were leaning over the counter, inhaling the delicious scent with a smile on your face.

 "Yay!" you said, before breaking apart your chopsticks.

Nanami is seated beside you, but you already eating, slurping up the noodles. Nanami's expression was unreadable, but you knew in your heart he was enjoying this. The way he subtly relaxed in his seat, the way he took his time between bites—it was a way of his high praise.

You grinned, twirling your chopsticks between your fingers, before scooping a mouthful of noodles. The rich, savory broth hits your tongue, successfully warming you from the inside and out. "Damn, this is really good" you exclaimed, between bites.

"Do you think so too, Nanamin?"

Nanami exhaled sharply, clearly used to your antics by now. "Stop, calling me that" 

"Not a chance..." you snorted, 

Before he could argue, the bell above the entrance jingled,

You barely glance up, still mid-bite—until a familiar voice rang out, 

"I didn't know you guys would be here?"

You turned your head to see Utahime, standing here. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, her usual elegant composure slightly softened her hard exterior. She wasn't in her usual uniform but wearing a simple blouse and skirt, looking every bit like a regular person.

"Utahime?" your eyebrows lifted in surprise,

She slid into a seat next to you, setting her back down with a sigh, "I always come here," she said before flagging down the old man behind the counter with a polite nod. The way she said it made you grin, so casual. You didn't know someone so uptight can be so casual like here.

"Really" you tilted your head, resting your cheek against your palm. A soft, genuine smile tugged at your lips. "Didn't peg you for a secret foodie" you said, taking another bite from the udon.

Utahmine just simply huffed out her cheeks, shaking her head. "I'm not—just like good food"

Nanami still focused on his meal, spoke without looking up. "That's what foodies say..." he said blankly, you barked out a laugh as Utahime shot him a glare, "You're not helping," she muttered, 

"Wasn't planning to.."

Utahime huffed out, then an old man placed a fresh bowl of udon in front of her, and she murmured a quick thanks before picking up her chopsticks.

For a moment, the three of you sat in comfortable silence, as she murmured a quick thanks before picking up her own chopsticks. You took another bite, savoring the moment before breaking the quiet.

"Well, I guess this place got even better..."

Utahime glanced at you, eyebrow raised, 

"Why?"

You shrugged, twirling your chopsticks with your fingers, "Good food and good company?" you said, your eyes flickering at the udon in front of you, "sounds like a win to me" 

Utahime simply rolled her eyes, with a smile on her lips giving away the faux annoyance she had.

Nanami, predictably, said nothing and —kept eating.

 

.

 

Chapter 11: 𝐓aunting

Summary:

UPDATE, NOT A BACKSTORY, BUT MORE Y/N AND OTHER CHARACTERS!!

 

 

You couldn't lie in saying that the mission with Nanami wasn't fun—there was something about working alongside someone as serious as him, it made things amusing for you. His constant sighs his deadpan remarks, the way he acted twice his age.

Hilarious.

But now—you were back doing the usual, in the common room, flipping through a magazine you got from your suitcase, enjoying your peace.

Just the soft rustle of the magazine pages, and the occasional creak and talking from the passers-by. 

"Didn't know you'll be here!"

You didn't even have to look up to know who it was. 

That voice,

loud and obnoxious, could only belong to one person.

Gojo Satoru,

"Back from your mission, already?" he drawled, already making his way over like he owned the place. You put the magazine down on your lap and looked at him. His usual sunglasses were off, and his azure blue eyes were directly staring at you.

You exhaled through your nose, "Can I help you? Or are you here to ruin my peace?"

Gojo just gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like you said something to offend him. 

"Me? Ruin your peace? I am your peace" He grinned. completely undettered, before plopping down on the couch beside you without a care in the world. You barely moved, but internally, you were already bracing yourself.

"Is that right? That why my life  been feeling so empty without your screaming in my ears every five seconds."

"Exactly!" He grinned, propping his chin with on one hand. His ridculously bright blue eyes locked in onto you like he was waiting for you to do something.

You rolled your eyes, finally glancing at him. "Seriously, what do you want, Satoru?"

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, "Word on the street is.." He dragged out his sentence for a dramatic effect. 

"You got held back a year.."

Your eye twitched, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a real reaction. Instead, you gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest.

"Oh no! Does this mean you're my senpai now? Hm?" You said, your eyes landing back on your magazine, flipping around the pages before Gojo took it away from you.

"Hey!"

A devious grin on his face, "That means..."

"Satoru dont—"

"Oh my GOD!" Gojo practically leaped up from the couch, hands gripping on his head like he discovered some big secret. "You're older than me?!"

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. 

"By one year Satoru, it's not that deep" You responded, 

But Gojo was already spiraling. "That means... that means you're my senpai!" He clutched his chest like the revelation physically rocked his soul.

 "Holy shit. Y/N-senpai. Y/N-senpai." He tested the words out like he just discovered his new favorite phrase.

You squinted at him. "Don't start."

Gojo ignored you completely, pacing back and forth like this was some groundbreaking discovery. "This changes everything. I should be bowing to you. You should be giving me wisdom. Buying me food. Looking after me like the good, responsible senpai you are—"

You grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it at his head. "Oh, shut up."

Gojo barely dodged, eyes twinkling with pure amusement. "Is that any way to treat your kouhai? Damn, senpai, I expected better from you."

"I expected you to shut up ten minutes ago. Guess we're both disappointed."

"No, no, I like this," Gojo continued, flopping onto the couch beside you with his signature shit-eating grin. "Y/N-senpai~" He practically sang it, poking your shoulder. 

"Senpaiiii~"

You smacked his hand away. 

"Stop calling me that."

"But you are my senpai," he grinned, leaning in with a waggle of his brows. "You gonna mentor me, teach me all the secrets of being old—"

"Satoru"

"—maybe give me some life advice? Oh! How about this? Can I call you 'Senpai-chan'? Or—wait— 'Senpai-sama' sounds even better—"

You lunged at him, but Gojo was already laughing, dodging before you could get your hands around his neck. 

"Aw, come on, senpai~"

"Say it one more time and I swear—"

"Sen—"

You tackled him down,

Gojo barely had a second to react before you got him on the couch. His long legs dangling off the edge as you straddled him down, pinning him down with a triumphant grin.

"Ohhh?" You tilted your head, resting your palms againist his chest. "So that means...I'm your senpai now, huh?"

Gojo blinked up at you, lips twitching. "Technically, yeah—"

"Technically?" You gasped, feigning offense as you leaned in closer, your face hovering inches above his. 

"Tsk, tsk. No respect for your elders, Satoru."

His smirk widened. "Oh? And what does my wise, powerful Senpai want me to do?"

You tapped your chin, pretending to think. "Hmm... I could use a personal servant. You can start by fetching me sweets every morning. And maybe a massage while you're at it."

Gojo huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, that's not happening."

"Then what's the point of having you as a junior?" You sighed dramatically, shifting your weight slightly so he could feel the power dynamic between you. "If you're not gonna listen, I might have to discipline you."

Gojo's hands twitched where they rested against your thighs. "Oh? Discipline?" His voice dropped slightly, teasing. 

"Kinda bold of you to say while sitting on me, don't you think?"

Before you could snap back, a slow, sarcastic clap echoed from the doorway.

"Wow."

You turned your head to see Geto leaning against the frame, arms crossed, amusement written all over his face. Beside him, Shoko took a lazy drag from her cigarette, exhaling a slow puff of smoke.

"Hm.. I just came in just to see Gojo and the new girl wrestling, hm?" She turns her head to Geto,

"She's not wrestling," Gojo quipped form beneath you, grinning. 

"She's asserting dominance"

"Damn right I am" You smirked, flicking his forehead before psuhing off of him, stretchig your arms above your head.

"Gotta make sure this one knows his place" You pointed towards Gojo,

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Senpai" Gojo teased, sitting up and ruffling his hair.

Geto shook his head with a chuckle. "I don't know whether to be impressed or deeply concerned.."

"A little bit of both," Shoko muttered, taking another drag.

You just tossed your hair over your shoulder with a playful smirk. "Don't worry, guys. Gojo may be my junior now, but I'll make sure to keep him in line."

Gojo leaned back, flashing his signature grin. 

"Oh, I'd love to see you try."

You finally snatched your magazine back from Gojo's grasp, smoothing out the pages with an exaggerated sigh.

 "Honestly, you have no home training."

"And yet, you still adore me," Gojo hummed, tilting his head with that smug grin.

You shot him a sideways glance, lips curling in amusement. 

"Adore? That's a strong word. Tolerate? Maybe."

Before Gojo could throw back some nonsense, Geto cleared his throat, standing there with his usual calm demeanor. "As much as I enjoy watching your lover's quarrel—"

"Lover?" You placed a hand over your chest, gasping dramatically. "Oh, Suguru, you wound me! Please, don't spread such vile rumors. My reputation as a refined woman is at stake."

Shoko, lounging lazily on the arm of a nearby chair, snorted. "Refined? That's rich."

"And yet, still true," you shot back smoothly, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a smug grin. 

"Now, Suguru dear, tell me—what urgent matter has led you to grace me with your presence?"

Geto pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly used to your antics. "Yaga-sensei sent me. He's assigning you a mission."

You sighed dramatically, draping yourself across the couch. "Oh, the burden of responsibility. Must I?"

"Yes, you must," Geto deadpanned. "And you're paired with Gojo."

The room went silent for a beat.

You let out a low exhale, slowly turning to Gojo, who was already grinning like a kid in a candy store. 

"I knew you'd come crawling back, Senpai."

You gave him a long, slow blink before sighing and standing up, stretching lazily. "Fine. But if he gets on my nerves, Suguru, just know you'll be the one to deal with the aftermath."

"Noted," Geto muttered. 

"Mission starts tomorrow. Don't be late."

"Oh, please," you scoffed. "I'm always fashionably late."

"More like irresponsibly late," Shoko mumbled under her breath.

You waved her off. "Tomato, tomahto."

You watched as Geto and Shoko walk off, while waving to the both of you.

Gojo slung an arm over your shoulders, grinning ear to ear. "Guess we'll be spending a lot of quality time together, huh?"

You side-eyed him, deadpan. 

"Are you just doing this to touch my boobs, Gojo?"

He gasped, placing a hand over his heart like you'd just accused him of high treason. "Me? A gentleman of the highest order? I would never—"

"Uh-huh."

"—do something so shameless without at least asking first."

You smacked the back of his head. 

"Try it, and I'm sending you to the afterlife."

Gojo only laughed, rubbing the spot where you hit him. 

"Man, I missed you."

"We literally have a mission with each other tomorrow, you perv"

 

⟡

 

The next morning, you took your time getting ready—not out of necessity, but because if you were going to deal with Gojo all day, you at least wanted to look good doing it.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your sorcerer outfit. The regular jujustu outfit, but you got it more fitted to your body. You gave yourself one last once-over, smoothing down your hair before grabbing your signature gloves.

Stepping out of your dorm room, 

You had barely taken five steps before you heard the unmistakable voice of your favorite nuisance.

"Damn, Y/N-sama, you clean up nice!"

You rolled your eyes, turning your head to see Gojo leaning againist the nearby pillar, arms crossed, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. His uniform was just as annoyingly perfect as always, and thoses bright blue eyes of his hidden by his usual sunglasses.

"You sound surprised," you mused, placing a hand on your hip. 

"I always look good."

Gojo pushed himself off the pillar, shoving his hands into his pockets as he sauntered over to you.

"True, true" he conceded, giving you a slow, exaggerated once-over.  "But today? You might actually distract me on the battefield.."

You raised a brow. "That sounds like a you problem..."

"Or maybe it's a you problem—"

Before he could finish that sentence, you held up a finger. 

"Finish that sentence, and I'll make sure your next distraction is a broken nose."

Gojo pouted dramatically. "You're so mean to me."

"And yet, you keep coming back."

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for pain." He grinned before nodding his head toward the school gates. "Come on, partner. Mission awaits."

You sighed, giving yourself one last stretch before following beside him. "If you slow me down, Satoru, I swear—"

"Me? Slow you down? Pfft. Please..." He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "You should be honored to be working with someone of my caliber."

You smirked, side-eyeing him. "Oh yeah? You mean the caliber that got smacked by Yaga last week for running his mouth?"

Gojo groaned, tilting his head back. "Ugh, are you ever gonna let that go?"

"Nope..." You popped the 'p' with a grin.

Gojo sighed but kept his arm draped over you like an overgrown, persistent house cat.

"This is gonna be fun."

You exhaled, shaking your head. 

"For one of us, at least."

The sleek black car rolled up infront of you both, you immedidiately recognizing the familiar figure behind the wheel. You smirked, crossing your arms as the window rolled down to reveal none other than Kenji—the poor student supervisor who always seemed to get stuck dealing with you and Gojo.

"Damn.." You drawled, tilting your head. "There putting you to work again, huh?"

Kenji exhaled through his nose, clearly exhausted before the mission had even started. "Unfortunately."

Gojo leaned forward, resting his arms on the car door. 

"Kenji, my man! You missed me?"

"No," Kenji deadpanned before unlocking the car. "Get in. You're on a schedule."

Laughing, you slid into the backseat, making yourself comfortable as Gojo flopped down beside you, his usual lack of personal space evident as his knee knocked against yours.

"You excited, Y/n-sama?" he teased, nudging you again. You twitched at the sound of the honorifics—he never gonna live this down, huh?

"For what? Babysitting you?" you shot back, not missing a beat.

"Pfft, please." Gojo smirked. "You wish you could babysit me. I'd be the most fun kid you ever had."

You scoffed, flipping through your phone. "Kenji, you getting overtime for this?"

Kenji sighed, pulling away from the curb. "I should be."

 

⟡

 

The car ride was mostly quiet—well, as quiet as it could be with Gojo in the backseat. He was either humming some annoying tune, bouncing his knee against yours, or dramatically sighing like he was suffering just for the sake of it.

You ignored him, scrolling through your flipphone like he wasn't even there.

"So," Kenji finally spoke, his voice flat as he kept his eyes on the road. "This mission isn't anything too complicated, but Yaga-sensei still wanted me to supervise."

"And by supervise, you mean sit in the car and pray we don't destroy the place?" you said, not even looking up.

Kenji sighed. "Basically."

Gojo stretched his arms behind his head, grinning. 

"They really don't trust us, huh?"

"No, Satoru," Kenji replied dryly. "They don't trust you."

You laughed, finally setting your phone down. "I wouldn't trust you too."

Gojo clutched his chest like you'd wounded him. "Wow. So this is the betrayal arc?"

"Baby, I was never on your side." You winked, then turned to Kenji. "So, what exactly are we dealing with?"

"Semi-grade 1 curse," Kenji said. "It's been lurking around an abandoned building downtown. A few civilians got injured, but nothing fatal. You two just need to exorcise it before it causes any real damage."

"Easy enough," you mused, resting your chin in your palm. "Guess I'll let Gojo handle it while I watch."

"Senpai," Gojo gasped, gripping his chest again. "You're just gonna throw me to the wolves like that?"

You side-eyed him. "Are you just doing this to touch my boobs, Satoru?"

A beat of silence.

Then Kenji let out the longest, most exhausted sigh of his life as Gojo cackled.

"Damn," he wheezed, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "You caught me."

You shook your head, smirking. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous today."*

"Oh?" He leaned in slightly, a teasing glint in his eye.

 "How generous, exactly?"

You shoved his face away, making him laugh harder. 

"Not that generous, perv."

 

.

 

You looked outside the window, to see a abadoment facotry, its rusted metal gates hanging loosely from their hinges, barely attached. The whole area was bathed in a thick, overcast gloom, with tall grass growing between crackled pavement and shattered windows lining the building's exterior like jagged teeths.

'creepy' 

You wrinkled your nose. "This place gives me the creepy, ugh" you peered outside.

"Doubt it," Kenji muttered, turning off the engine. "This used to be some old manufacturing plant, but it shut down years ago. Locals say it's been haunted ever since."

Gojo stretched his arms above his head, completely unbothered. "Ooooh, spooky~" he teased, wiggling his fingers. "What do you think, y/n-sama? You scared?"

You flicked him on the forehead. 

"The only scary thing here is how you still think you're funny."

Gojo pouted, rubbing the spot you flicked. "Tch, so mean."

Kenji ignored both of you, already stepping out of the car. 

"Just get in there and exorcise the damn thing. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can leave."*

You sighed dramatically before swinging the door open. The air outside was thick, damp, and carried that distinct smell of rust and mold. You hated it already.

"Alright," you muttered, cracking your knuckles. "Let's get this over with."

Gojo walked beside you as you approached the factory entrance, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. "Bet you ten bucks this thing tries to run the moment it senses us."

"I'd take that bet, but I'd hate to take your money that easily," you smirked.

He grinned. "Wow. So much confidence in me, huh?"

"Not in you—in me."

Gojo let out a low whistle. "Damn, I think I'm in love."*

You rolled your eyes.

 "Get in line, sweetheart." you said over yoru shoulder, before opening the factory doors, stepping inside.

 

⟡

 

The sound of your heels echoing through the factories halls, for  a moment everything was just still. The air turned heavy, the thick, stagnant—like the place hadn't been touched in years. The scent of mildew, rust, and something sickly-sweet clung to the air, settling in the back of your throat like a bad aftertaste. Dust particles swirled in the dim light seeping through the shattered windows, and every step you took sent echoes boucing off the high, hollow ceiling.

"Ugh" You wrinkled your nose again, flicking away the cobweb away from your shoulder. 

"This place is a whole freaking biohazard"

Gojo, completely unfazed, right beside you as he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around with mild amusement. "Abandoned factory, cursed spirits, and the occansional haunted tool—you know..a classic horror movie setup"

"With a pretty girl and a handsome protagionist" He continued,

You turned to look at him rolling your eyes, "You watch too many movies"

"And you don't watch enough"

You ignored him, already scanning the space ahead. Rusted metal pipes ran along the wall like veins, and the remains of old machinery stood like skeletons, long forgotten and covered in grime. The floors was littered with shattered glass, broken crates and discarded equipment, all coated in the fine layer of dust.

It seemed like the deeper you walked in, the more the air pressed againist your skin. It was subtle, but the curse's prensence was undeniable.

"Feel that?" You muttered, 

"Oh yeah" Gojo's voice was casual, but his gaze was sharpened, "It's watching us" he sing-songed.

You exhaled slowly, stretching your arms over your head before rolling your shoulders. 
"Typical. Too scared to show itself right away"

Gojo hummed, "Can you blame it? You're  kinda terrifiying, senpai"

You flicked a loose bolt at his head without looking. "It should be. Unlike you, I actually handle things quickly instead of standing around talking.."

Gojo dodged effortlessly, the bolt boucning off to the floor behind him. "See, that's where we differ" He grinned. 

"I prefer enjoy life's little moment"

"By being annoying?"

"By being memorable"

"Sure"

Before he could respond, a low creak echoed from somewhere deeper in the factory. The sound was slow, deliberate, like something shifting in the darkness.

Your eyes narrowed, "There you are"

The silence that followed was thick, but you could feel it—something lurking just beyond your sight, pressing itself againist the shadows, watching.

"Bet you ten bucks it tries to run before we even get close," Gojo muttered, tilting his head.

"Fine, if you want to lose money, then that fine by me" 

A sharp, wet sound followed—like something dragging across the concrete. Then, the temperature dropped.

"Ahhh, there it is," Gojo drawled, stretching. 

"Right on cue!"

Then—something moved.

A shadow peeled itself from the far wall, shifting, expanding, contorting unnaturally. And then, two glowing, hollow eyes snapped open, locking onto you both.

You took a step forward, crossing your arms. 

"That's it?"

The curse let out a low, guttural growl. Its body was stretched and emaciated, dark and leathery, with long, clawed fingers scraping the floor. It moved in slow, jerky motions, like a puppet with tangled strings.

"Ugly one, huh?" Gojo mused. "Kinda looks like my old math teacher."

"Don't disrespect your math teacher like that."

"Oh, trust me, he deserved it."

The curse twitched. Then, without warning, it lunged.

You moved first.

Twisting your body to the side, you narrowly dodged the swipe of its elongated claws, the wind from the strike brushing past your face. With no hesitation, you retaliated—slamming your foot into its ribcage and sending it skidding backward across the floor.

"Fast," you muttered. "But not fast enough."

Gojo whistled. "You make it look easy, senpai."

"Because it is."

The curse snarled, shifting its body unnaturally before lunging again, its fingers stretching like tendrils mid-air.

"Tsk." You sidestepped, twisting as you grabbed one of its outstretched limbs and yanked, using its own momentum to slam it against the floor with a heavy crack.

It shrieked, its limbs twitching violently.

"Damn." Gojo blinked.

 "And here I thought we were gonna be here all night."

"I don't waste time," you muttered, planting a foot on its chest to keep it pinned. The curse squirmed beneath you, but you pressed down harder, watching as it let out another strangled, distorted sound.

"So?" Gojo tilted his head. "You wanna finish it, or should I?"

"Please." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Like I'd let you steal my kill."

Without waiting for a response, you pressed your palm against the curse's face. Energy crackled around your fingertips for half a second before—

Boom—

The force of your strike sent a sharp shockwave rippling through the air, and in an instant, the curse crumbled to dust beneath you.

Silence followed.

Then—

"Aaaand another mission complete!" Gojo clapped his hands together.

 "Look at us, making a great team."

You sighed, brushing dust off your uniform. "Please. I did all the work."

"Nah, nah. You had the easy part."

"You literally did nothing."

"Exactly." He grinned. 

"And that's hard work."

Before you could respond, Kenji's voice crackled through the radio. 

"Status?"

You pressed the button. "Mission complete. We're heading out now."

"Good. Try not to waste time flirting."

You rolled your eyes. "We're not—" You turned just in time to see Gojo smirking at you

 "You know what? I'm not even doing this."

"Oh, but senpai~" Gojo sing-songed.

"Call me that one more time and I'll punch you" You shot back, turning to leave.

A sound cut through the air, a deep—wet crackle. Like something breaking apart and reforming at the same time. Both of you froze, like something out of a nightmare, the shadow on the ground twisted, like tar. The dust of the curse's remains twitched violently before being sucked into the dark mass.

You turned back, looking at the moving remains. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," you muttered, Gojo raised an eyebrow, "Now that's interesting"

It seemed like the darkness pulsed. Then, with a sickening snap, something emerged. A grotesque mass of limds and exposed muscle, shifting erractically like it wasn't used to its body—if you could even it that—was elongated, splitting at the jaw in four directions, revealibg rows upon riw of jagged teeth. 

Veins pulsed beneath its thick, near-transclucent skin, glowing with an eerie, golden light.

Its new body was different—larger, more grotesque. 

A more powerful being.

"Oh.." Gojo hummed, tilting his head. "That;s new"

"We killed it," You said flatly, eye narrowing. "It should be dead"

The curse twisted its head, staring at the both of you. Its gaping maw trembling before—

It screamed.

The entire factory shook,

The walls cracked, glass shattered, and the floor trembled beneath your feet as a massive gravitational force suddenly pulled at everything in the room.

"What the hel—" Your body immediately felt ten times heavier, your knees bending slightly under the sudden pressure. The air around you dragged, every movement sluggish.

"Ohhh, it can control gravity, huh?," Gojo mused, shifting his stance. 

"A little warning would've been nice," you muttered, struggling to stay upright.

"Didn't expect it to get a power-up, honestly"

"Yeah? Well, expect this—" You barely managed to throw yourself to the side as a massive claw came crashing down where you had been just standing, splitting the concrete like butter. The shockwave from the impact sending the flying dust and debris flying, forcing you to shield your face.

"Shit—!"

"Oooh," Gojo whistled, still standing effortlessly despite the gravity shift. "Now, that's a heavy hitter!"

"Shut up and move!" You yelled, but the curse didn't let you guys have a time to breathe.

It lunged again—

 

⟡

 

Chapter 12: 𝐌iraculous

Summary:

UPDATE, NOT A BACKSTORY, BUT MORE Y/N AND OTHER CHARACTERS!!

 

 

The curse shouldn't have still been standing. It shouldn't have reformed. 

And yet, there it is—taller, stronger, and just wrong. 

It's head twisted towards you and Gojo, neck cracking like brittle bones snapping under pressure. The air shifted—it be subtle, but something about the atmosphere around it warped, like the space itself was bending.

"This thing was barely a grade semi grade, when we got here," You yelled, you said, dodging it's attacks—but the cursed moved again.

It didn't lunge, didn't change but just teleported,

wha—

the space around it was compressing unnaturally as it suddenly appeared behind you,  A sharp force slammed back into your back.

"Fuck—" You barely managed to throw up an arm, before being sent flying. Your body crashed into a rusted metal column, the impact rattling through your bones as you hit the floor hard.

"Ohh, okay" Gojo muttered, cracking his head as the curse turned towards him. "I see how it is.."

But this time, Gojo sidestepped—only for the air around him collapse.

"Huh?"

BOOM—

Gojo's body was slammed into the floor, a crater forming  beneath him.

You barely had time to process, "Gojo?!" 

Then—

"Owww," Gojo groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Okay, that actually hurt a little"

The curse snarled, shifting its massive body unnaturally. Its limbs twisted, reforming into long, jagged spikes that pulsed with cursed energy.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're all big and bad now," Gojo muttered, dusting himself off. "But I don't like surprises, y'know?"

You pulled yourself back up, gritting your teeth. "This thing's warping space."

"Mmm, more like compressing and expanding it," Gojo corrected. "Which means..."

The curse lunged again.

This time, you were ready.

You threw yourself to the side, narrowly avoiding another instant attack as the curse's strike landed where you had just been—only for the ground itself to bend inward, like the impact had collapsed the space around it.

"That's some bullshit," you muttered, wiping blood from your lip.

Gojo exhaled, "Agreed."

The curse turned, exhaling a deep, guttural noise before vanishing again—

You felt your instinct scream

"MOVE—"

You both dodged opposite ways to avoid the second compression blast—before you could counterattack, the space around you crunched inward again, forcing you back to the curse's range.

"Oh, you sneaky fucking BASTARD—!"

You barely had time to managed the block as the curse's claw came down again, but the force behind it was unnatural. Even with your cursed enegry reinforced your body, you could feel the weight of its attack pressing down, pinning you.

"It's messing with the battle itself," Gojo muttered, appearing beside you. "It's not just moving fast. It's restructuring the way space works around it."

"So what you're saying is—"

"We can't hit it properly until we figure out it's pattern"

"Great.."

The curse roared again, the sound rattling the entire factory.

Then, it struck again.

And again,

And again,

Each attack forced you both to react faster, dodge sharper. The more it moved, the more the space around it bent, forcing you into more disadvantage positions.

This wasnt just a fight.

It was a fucking trap..

Gojo exhaled, wiping a streak of blood from his cheek. 

"Alright, Y/N. I think it's safe to say—" He grinned, his voice laced with something almost giddy. 

"—this one's gonna make us work for it."

You exhaled, with a flick of your wrist, you pulled out your twin war fans, their sleek metal edges catching the dim light filtering through the broken window.

The air started changing, they second they left your hands.

The factory, thick with dust and silence, seemed to wake up—like the space itself knew what was about to happen.

Your cursed energy surged through the metal fans, flooding into the atmosphere, and in an instant, the temperature spiked. A dry, blistering heat rippled outward. The air around you shimmered as a vermillion wind coiled at your feet, eager, restless, waiting for your command.

For the first time, the curse reacted. Its warped form flickered, adapting—moving to get behind you.

But you were already moving.

With a sharp twist of your wrist, your fan snapped outward.

A bladed gust of cursed energy exploded forward—a flash of red-gold heat screaming through the air. It cut through the factory's gloom and collided mid-warp, disrupting the curse's movement and slamming it against the rusted metal beams overhead.

Gojo let out a long whistle from the side, untouched as usual. "Oooooh, finally bringing out the fans? That means you're actually taking this seriously, huh?"

You flipped the fan in your hand, smirking. "Well, duh. Not all of us can just blink away attacks with some cheap hacks, Gojo."

"Excuse me, I do not use cheap hacks. I use strategic hacks."

Your eyes flickered back toward the curse.

It twitched, grotesque body shifting unnaturally as its torn flesh began weaving itself back together—too fast.

You clicked your tongue. "Tsk. Persistent little bastard."

The winds around you howled in response.

Then, with no warning, the curse vanished again.

—Right in front of you.

Its attack was sudden, jagged fingers slicing through the air—

But you were already there to meet it.

Steel clashed against warped claws, your fans grinding against its limbs, sparks flying in the dark. But you weren't just blocking—you were setting up.

A second pulse of wind burst from beneath your feet, feeding into the energy coiling around your fans. The air around you rippled, condensing as the factory's stagnant atmosphere suddenly came alive.

You kicked off the ground, flipping backward—

And then, you slashed downward.

 "Hisen no Mai"

A raging, crimson-gold cyclone erupted, a spiraling inferno tearing through the factory floor. Flames surged forward in bladed arcs, slicing and burning all at once.

The curse shrieked, its twisted body consumed in the storm. The winds crushed inward, compacting the blaze into a howling vortex meant to shred everything trapped inside it.

Gojo, still standing there like this wasn't a life-or-death fight, hummed thoughtfully. "Ohhh, so that's the game plan? Smother it in that fiery wind of yours?"

"You gonna keep talking, or are you actually gonna fight?" you shot back, landing effortlessly as the flames screamed louder.

"I just like watching you work, Y/N-sama" he teased, that infuriating grin never leaving his face.

You rolled your eyes, barely hiding the smirk tugging at your lips.

The dust settled, revealing—

Nothing.

Your smirk faded.

Gojo's grin widened slightly. "Careful, babe. It's too quiet."

Then—

A low, distorted chuckle rippled through the air.

The space around you warped.

The curse came back.

Your grip tightened on the metal fans as that warped, guttural laughter slithered through the air, crawling over your skin like a sickness.

The temperature was still sweltering from your last attack, the lingering heat curling in the air like phantom flames. And yet, the factory—the battlefield—was shifting.

The curse was learning.

Gojo sighed, still standing off to the side with his hands in his pockets. "Damn. That should've worked. Guess it's one of those annoying ones, huh?"

You didn't respond, jaw tightening as your instincts screamed at you.

CRACK.

The floor beneath you split open violently, warped claws shooting up from the ground. You leapt back just in time, twisting midair as the space you had just been standing in collapsed into itself, the warped energy twisting unnaturally.

It wasn't just fast—it was adapting.

Your eyes narrowed. "Tsk. Persistent little bastard."

The curse was already moving again.

It flickered, body twisting in unnatural, grotesque jerks as it tried to lunge at you from another angle—

This time, you didn't give it a chance.

With a snap of your wrist, flames roared to life, licking up the edges of your fans.

You swung—

"Crimson Purge"

A bladed arc of purification flames slashed through the air, searing through the space the curse occupied—

But instead of disintegrating, the damn thing twisted its form again, its body stretching, breaking, reforming—

It dodged.

Your brows furrowed, irritation spiking.

Gojo let out a low whistle. "Ohhh, okay. So it's not just some brainless curse. It's got a little IQ."

It was regenerating too fast, dodging too well. You could burn it, slash it, tear through its body—but unless you found its weak point, it was just going to keep coming back.

And it knew it.

That sickening, distorted laugh echoed again.

Enough of this.

Your muscles tensed as you lowered your stance, blood rushing in your ears. Heat rippled off your skin, the vermilion wind coiling around you in restless spirals.

Your fingers curled tighter around your fans, the cursed energy sharpening at your command.

The curse flickered again—moving unpredictably—

But this time, you didn't let it escape.

You dashed forward, the floor cracking beneath your speed, and in an instant—

Your fans clashed against its claws again.

Sparks erupted as you pushed against its force, eyes locking onto the jagged, shifting form.

A second pulse of energy surged through your arms, the heat swelling—

Then, you let it ignite.

A crescent of flame exploded outward, a searing arc ripping through the curse's body.

It shrieked as the purification flames latched onto its flesh, trying to burn through—

But again, it resisted.

Its body twisted violently, regenerating faster, the warped energy crackling like a sick heartbeat.

Your breath came out harsh, frustration curling in your chest. "Why won't you just DIE?!"

The heat spiked.

Your cursed energy surged as your irritation boiled into something more.

You weren't holding back anymore.

The vermilion winds howled, coiling around your form like a divine storm, flames licking at your fingertips.

Gojo hummed, tilting his head. "Oooooh, you're actually mad now."

You ignored him.

The air itself trembled as your cursed energy flared.

If cutting, burning, and purging wasn't working—then it was time to erase it.

The curse twitched, sensing the shift.

For the first time, it hesitated.

Too late.

Your fans snapped together, your voice sharp,

"Vermillion Ma—"

The curse vanished again, space bending as it reappeared—right at your side.

Your instincts screamed.

Too close.

You barely had time to react before a bladed, warped limb slashed out.

You twisted at the last second, 

But not fast enough.

A sharp, searing pain tore through your waist.

Your body staggered as you were knocked back, boots skidding across the dust-covered floor.

For a moment, you didn't even process it. Adrenaline had taken over. You were still in fight mode.

You felt it.

The wet, warm trickle seeping through your uniform from cut uniform, the sharp sting of an open wound.

Your fingers brushed against your waist— and came back slick with blood.

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me" you cursed under your breath, pressing your hand againist your side to slow the bleeding.

Gojo's head snapped in your direction. His usual cocky smirk vanished.

"...Wait. Are you actually hurt?"

He had been joking around this entire time, completely unfazed—but now, his tone was different.

You clicked your tongue, irritation bubbling in your chest. "No, Gojo, I'm just cosplaying as a wounded idiot—shit" you groaned,

His aqua-blue eyes darkened behind his stupid sunglasses.

"How bad?"

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stand straight. The wound wasn't deep enough to be fatal, but it was bad enough to slow you down.

The curse let out another low, warping laugh.

Your gaze snapped back to it, fury simmering beneath your skin.

Gojo's usual nonchalant energy shifted. He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as the air around him hummed with raw cursed energy.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in your waist as you shifted your stance. The blood was seeping through your uniform faster now, staining the fabric a deep crimson.

But something felt off,

Your cursed energy—it wasn't flowing right.

You inhaled sharply, trying to circulate your energy to slow the bleeding, but the moment you did—a sharp, searing pain exploded from the wound.

Your breath hitched. What the hell?

Your vision flickered slightly, a strange pressure creeping through your veins.

The curse chuckled again, its distorted voice curling through the factory air like oil.

And that's when you realized—it had done something to you.

Your body felt heavier. Your cursed energy, normally fluid and sharp, felt sluggish—like it was being suppressed.

A cursed wound.

"Oh, you sneaky little bitch." You gritted your teeth, pressing harder against your side as you stumbled slightly.

Gojo immediately caught it.

His gaze snapped to you, and in an instant, he was right next to you.

"You're not just bleeding," he murmured, voice unusually serious. "It's doing something to you, isn't it?"

You hated to admit it, but—"Yeah. My cursed energy—is...it's off."

His lips pressed into a thin line, and just like that, the cocky playfulness vanished completely.

"Oh, that's not gonna fly."

In a blink, Gojo's presence shifted.

The pressure in the room spiked as his cursed energy surged—no longer just a lazy hum in the background, but a full, crushing weight.

The curse lurched, reacting immediately to the overwhelming force.

"Ohhh, now you pissed him off," you muttered, trying to steady yourself, but another sharp pulse from your wound made you wince.

Gojo glanced at you again—and for the first time, he actually looked concerned.

"You good to keep going?"

Your breath was a little unsteady, but you still managed to flash him a sharp smirk.

"You think I'm gonna let you have all the fun?"

He exhaled through his nose, his lips twitching upward. 

"Guess not."

Then, without another word—he vanished.

You pressed a hand to your side, trying to steady your breathing, but the heat in your body was getting worse. Way worse.

It wasn't just the wound—it was your entire system.

Your body temperature was spiking, your head felt light, and your cursed energy was flickering—like a flame struggling to stay lit against the wind.

Whatever that thing did to you... it wasn't just a simple cut.

Across the factory, Gojo was handling the curse, dodging its warped strikes with effortless movements. But you couldn't focus.

Your fingers trembled.

The heat was building—boiling, twisting inside you.

And then, it clicked.

Your own cursed energy was reacting to the infection.

Vermillion Wind was fire-based. And now, your body—your own flames—were fighting against whatever the curse had poisoned you with.

A self-destructive clash.

You let out a low curse, sweat trailing down your temple. If you didn't get a hold of yourself, you'd burn through your own reserves just trying to neutralize the infection.

Your fans still rested in your hands, their once vibrant glow now flickering unevenly.

You needed to do something.

 Fast.

A sharp pulse of pain shot through your ribs, forcing you to grit your teeth. Your vision blurred for half a second—just long enough to make your knees buckle slightly.

Gojo looked over at you.

Even while fighting, his sharp blue gaze snapped toward you, his expression tightening.

"Oi—" his voice cut through the air, serious, unamused. 

"You don't look good."

"Gee, thanks, genius," you muttered, pressing harder against the wound.

The heat was crawling up your spine, every breath feeling too hot—too thick.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly not liking the way you looked right now.

His opponent tried to take advantage of his distraction, lunging toward him—

But he didn't even turn to look.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, a cursed energy blast ripped through the curse's leg, sending it crashing into the rusted beams.

Then, in an instant, he was in front of you.

Too fast.

"You're burning up," he muttered, scanning you. "That thing did something nasty to you, huh?"

"I—" you swallowed hard, fighting against the fever creeping into your voice.

You hated this.

Being on the sidelines? Weak? Out of commission while someone else fought?

It pissed you off.

Your grip on your fans tightened.

"I can still fight," you forced out, voice a little hoarse.

Gojo exhaled sharply through his nose, unimpressed. 

A dark chuckle echoed through the space.

The curse wasn't done. 

Not even close.

And now, it was adapting.

It was learning.

Gojo's jaw flexed slightly as he turned back toward it, protective instinct kicking in.

"Tch," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. 

"Alright. I'll handle this fast."

He glanced at you one last time—as if making sure you wouldn't pass out on him.

You hated that you couldn't prove him wrong.

Your fingers twitched, your vision still swimming with heat.

But for now... all you could do was try to stay conscious.

You huffed, frustration bubbling beneath the fever burning through your veins. Your fingers dug into your wound, trying to ground yourself againist the pain—but it hurts so bad.

You were practically on the sidelines watching him effortlessly, dodging the curses attacks, it seemed like it slowed down from your flames, 

before you could even blink—the factory seemed to exploded with force.

A violent shockwave ripping through the air as his cursed enegry surged, his presence alone flattening the ground beneath him.

The curse barely had time to react.

Gojo reappeared above it, one hand raised lazily, his face the picture of bored destruction.

His fingers twitched—

And in the next instant—

The entire space warped.

The curse let out a distorted, nightmarish scream—

Before reality itself twisted around it, swallowing it whole.

It never even touched the ground.

A second later, the air snapped back into place, leaving nothing behind.

Silence.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to breathe through the feverish haze wrapping around your senses.

Gojo landed smoothly, turning toward you immediately.

"See?" he smirked. "Took me, what—five seconds?"

You glared, but it lacked real heat.

He took a step forward, that cocky grin dropping slightly when he got a closer look at you.

Your wound was worse now, black veins crawling from it, cursed energy still seeping into your body. 

"Shit—" his eyes landing on your wound, his smirk was gone.

With zero hesitation, he strode over, his sharp eyes locking onto you.

You barely registered it, the fever twisting your senses, making the whole world feel too hot, too heavy, 

"Damn it," you muttered weakly, swaying—

Strong arms caught you.

Your body barely had time to react before you felt yourself being lifted effortlessly.

Gojo didn't say a word—just held you against his chest, his grip firm yet careful.

The last thing you heard before the darkness swallowed you whole was his voice—low, serious in a way it rarely ever was.

"Yeah, definitely not leaving you alone"

 

⟡

 

Chapter 13: 𝐂heck up

Summary:

UPDATE, NOT A BACKSTORY, BUT MORE Y/N AND OTHER CHARACTERS!!

 

 

 

Your consciousness drifted like a flickering candle, each moment pulling you in and out of reality.

In.

A low hum vibrated beneath you—the car. The sharp scent of blood and the faint sting of burning flesh clung to the air.

Your body felt heavy, sinking into the seat, your limbs sluggish. The burning heat inside you hadn't faded—in fact, it had gotten worse. Your skin prickled, the warmth intensifying with every shallow breath.

Gojo's voice—frustrated, sharp.

"Her temperature's still rising. Whatever that curse did, it's not fading fast enough."

Kenji's voice—calm, composed.

"Shoko will handle it. You just focus on keeping her awake."

You tried to move—tried to speak, but your throat was dry, and your lips barely parted before darkness threatened to pull you under again.

Out.

In.

A white ceiling blurred into view, the sterile scent of antiseptic and lingering traces of blood filling your nostrils.

Muffled voices. Shadows moved in and out of your vision, their outlines blurred like smudged ink.

"She's still overheating," Shoko's voice, steady but tight with concern. "Whatever that curse did, it's lingering in her system."

Yaga's voice, deep and unwavering. "We need to stabilize her before the cursed energy spreads further."

You tried to lift your hand—tried to reach for something solid, something real, but your limbs were unresponsive. Your head lolled to the side, your body refusing to obey.

Your pulse throbbed in your ears, drowning out the voices. The heat that had started at your waist had spread, creeping up your spine and curling around your chest like an unseen force squeezing you from the inside out.

Out.

In.

A sharp gasp left your lips as consciousness slammed back into you.

A figure loomed over you—white hair, furrowed brows, no sunglasses.

Gojo.

His face was serious, for once—not cocky, not playful, but tense. His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenched as he watched you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"Tch," he clicked his tongue, shifting beside you. "Should've just carried your ass out sooner."

You wanted to respond—wanted to roll your eyes, to tell him to shut up—but the exhaustion was too deep, dragging you back down before you could even part your lips.

Out.

Darkness swallowed you whole.

 

⟡

 

Your eyes snapped open.

you were met with darkness—vast, endless, suffocating.

A weightless void stretched in every direction, swallowing any sense of time or space. There was no floor beneath your feet, yet you were standing. No wind, yet your body felt like it was drifting.

Your heart pounded.

"Where the hell am I?" you muttered, voice sharp but tinged with unease.

Your voice echoed, bouncing endlessly into the abyss.

Then—

A flicker of red.

Your breath hitched. The darkness rippled, shifting like disturbed water, and from the depths, a figure emerged.

A woman.

Clad in traditional priestness's clothing, her clothes seems to flutter like there was wind in this darkness space, her presence commanded the void itself. Long, dark hair cascaded past her shoulders, and e/c gleamed through the shadows, piercing and familiar in a way that sent a strange chill through your spine. The weight of something ancient hung in the air around her, pressing against your skin like an unspoken force.

She looked at you. Through you.

And then, she spoke.

"So, you're finally here."

Your brows furrowed. Instinctively, your hands twitched for your fans—but they weren't there. You were just you, bare and unarmed in the face of whatever this was.

You narrowed your eyes. "The hell is that supposed to mean? And who the hell are you?"

The woman took a step forward. Graceful, slow, deliberate.

"You wield my flames, yet you do not know my name?" Her voice was smooth, steady, with an undercurrent of something old.

Your heart lurched.

Your flames?

The realization hit like a slow burn.

Your fans. The cursed energy embedded in them. The power you had felt all your life but never questioned.

This woman—this presence—was connected to them.

You swallowed, your voice quieter now, but still firm. 

"...Who are you?"

A small, knowing smile touched her lips.

"Hinoka."

The name sent a shiver through your bones.

The name burned against your thoughts, stirring something deep in your bones—something older than you, something that had always been there, just beneath the surface of your flames.

Hinoka took another step forward, and with it, the void twisted. It was no longer just darkness—faint embers flickered at your feet, glowing like dying stars against the blackened abyss.

You clenched your fists. "...Why are you in my head?"

Hinoka tilted her head slightly, golden eyes unwavering. "Because you are standing at the edge of yourself. And because you carry me."

A chill crawled up your spine, but you forced yourself to stand firm. "What the hell does that mean?"

Hinoka exhaled slowly, lifting a delicate hand. The air around her shimmered, and suddenly, fire bloomed.

Not just any fire—your fire.

The deep, red-gold flames twisted and curled like living silk, dancing from her fingertips, spiraling into intricate patterns that flickered between destruction and elegance.

You knew these flames. You had wielded them, shaped them, fought with them—but they were hers first.

Your mouth felt dry.

"My flames," Hinoka said softly, watching the embers coil around her wrist. "The Vermillion Winds. The very essence that you call your own."

The realization settled like a stone in your gut. "You're the one in my fans..."

A small, knowing smile curved her lips. "Yes."

Your jaw clenched. "Then why the hell haven't you spoken before?"

Hinoka studied you carefully, as if weighing her answer. Then, she stepped closer—so close that the heat from her flames licked at your skin.

"Because you were not ready to listen."

The words struck deep.

Your fists tightened. Not ready? You had been fighting, struggling, pouring everything into survival, into winning—what did she mean, not ready?

Your frustration burned at the edges of your mind, but before you could snap, Hinoka lifted her hand—and suddenly, the world shifted again.

The darkness was gone.

Instead, you stood in the middle of flames.

Not chaotic destruction, but controlled infernos—vast fields of golden fire stretching endlessly, swirling in great currents across a sky that burned like a setting sun.

It was like stepping into a memory that wasn't yours.

A shrine stood in the distance, its gates worn but standing strong. The air hummed with an energy so thick it pressed against your skin, heavier than any battlefield you'd stood on.

And through the shifting heatwaves, figures moved—warriors, clad in armor, gripping weapons etched with the same fire that curled around your own veins.

Your breath hitched.

A time long before you. A power wielded by hands before yours.

Hinoka walked forward, stepping through the scene like a ghost untouched by time. "These flames do not belong to just one person," she murmured. "They are passed down. A legacy. A burden. And a curse."

You turned sharply toward her. "A curse?"

She met your gaze.

"A power like this always comes with a cost."

The words made something twist inside you.

You thought about the heat that burned through your veins every time you pushed yourself too far. The way your own body threatened to consume itself the moment you tapped into the deepest parts of your ability.

The way you had been burning up—literally feverish—from the injury just before you blacked out.

"...What happens if I keep using it?" you asked, voice quieter than before.

Hinoka's expression didn't change. "That depends on you."

Your stomach clenched. "I don't like vague answers."

She smiled slightly, but there was something sad in it. "Then listen closely, child of fire. Because this is the only warning I will give."

The flames around you flickered.

"If you let the flames own you, they will consume you whole," she said, voice soft but absolute. "Your body is strong, but it is not invincible. There will come a time when your flames will demand more than you can give."

The embers swirled at your feet. The golden fire on the horizon darkened, tinged with something heavier, something dangerous.

"And if you are not careful..."

The flames surged—turning from gold to crimson, from crimson to black.

"You will burn away everything. Including yourself."

The heat pressed against your chest, threatening to sink into your skin, but before you could react—

...

..

.

 

A sharp inhale—like breaking through the surface of deep water.

Your eyes snapped open, your chest heaving as air finally filled your lungs again. Your body burned, but not with pain—with heat. Like fire was still licking at your skin from the inside out.

The room swayed, blurry shapes shifting around you. White ceiling. Bright lights. A familiar beep, beep, beep echoing somewhere close. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled your nose.

Where—?

Your fingers twitched against the sheets, feeling the soft fabric beneath them. You tried to push yourself up, but the second you moved—

"Hey."

A firm hand pressed against your shoulder, keeping you from getting up.

Your vision finally focused—white hair, a tilted head, as you blinked to see Gojo staring right at you.

"Jesus, took you long enough," he muttered, but his voice didn't have its usual teasing lilt. It was quieter. Tighter.

You blinked, trying to process what the hell just happened. Last thing you remembered—

The curse. The fight. The pain.

Your hand instinctively went to your side, expecting to feel bandages—pain—something. But instead...

Nothing.

Your skin was smooth. Healed.

Your breath hitched.

 "What the—"

Shoko was suddenly leaning over you, pushing Gojo aside to check your vitals. "Don't move too much yet. You just—" She hesitated. 

"You just healed yourself."

Your brow furrowed. "What?"

Gojo clicked his tongue, leaning back. "Yeah. Decided to light yourself up like a damn Christmas tree. Freaked Shoko out."

Shoko shot him a glare before turning back to you. "Your wound started burning—white flames. Like nothing I've ever seen before. And then... it just closed."

Your fingers curled into the sheets. You could still feel it. The warmth lingering beneath your skin.

That wasn't normal.

Even for you.

"...How long was I out?" Your voice was hoarse, throat dry.

"A while," Gojo said vaguely. He wasn't looking at you now, but at your side—where the injury used to be. His expression unreadable.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your body still hummed with something unfamiliar. "Well... I feel fine."

Gojo's gaze snapped back to yours. "You sure?"

You rolled your eyes, groaning. 

"I'm not dying, Gojo."

He didn't say anything for a second. Just stared.

Then—finally, he huffed, standing up straight. "Good," he muttered. "Because I already saved your ass once today. Don't make it a habit."

You smirked, despite everything.

 "Please. I had it handled."

He scoffed. "Yeah, sure. That's why you passed out in my arms."

Your face burned, but this time, it had nothing to do with the fire inside you.

Shoko sighed, already over the two of you. "Just get some rest," she muttered, stepping back. "You're stable now, but we'll run some tests later."

You barely heard her. Your mind was still spinning.

Because deep down—past the relief, past the banter—you knew something was different in you.

 

⟡

 

The time you were in the infirimary passed like a blur—you weren't sure how many hours or days you slept in or passed by, but you hated it here, more than the regular jujustu high uniform. It made you itchy, if it wasn't for Shoko threatening to sedate you, you would've walked out already. 

Your body had healed. That much was obvious. Too fast. Faster than you should've been able to. And the white flames that had engulfed you? You hadn't seen them again. But even now, you could still feel something off—a warmth thrumming beneath your skin, lying in wait.

You didn't have time to think too much about it, though.

Because apparently, being hospitalized made you a zoo attraction.

The first visitor was Nanami.

He arrived right on time—because of course he did. Walking in with his usual stiff posture, carrying a bag of neatly packed food. Without a word, he set it on your bedside table, adjusted his glasses, and exhaled.

"...Try not to die," he muttered, then turned to leave.

You blinked. "That's it? No 'how are you'? No 'glad you're alive'?"

He stopped at the door, hands in his pockets. "You already know the answer to both."

You smirked. "Nanamin, Your such a  big softie."

Nanami didn't dignify that with a response.

Then it was Yu Haibara.

Unlike Nanami, he practically tackled you the second he walked in, completely ignoring the fact that you were still technically recovering.

"You're alive! I knew you would be!" he cheered, squeezing you way too tight.

You choked. "Yu—I swear to God—"

"Oops, sorry, sorry!" He pulled back, beaming. 

"Man, you really had us worried! Gojo wouldn't shut up about it."

Your brow arched. "Gojo?"

Yu nodded, lowering his voice like he was sharing classified information. "He actually looked serious for once."

You frowned. Gojo? Serious?

Before you could dwell on it, Utahime showed up.

Unlike the others, she scolded you like a concerned mother.

"You are reckless. Reckless." She crossed her arms, glaring down at you. "Do you know how close you were?"

You sighed. "I know, I—"

"You could've died!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!"

Utahime huffed, shaking her head. "You're impossible." But despite her sharp words, you could see the worry in her eyes.

You softened, nudging her hand. "I'm okay, I swear."

She clicked her tongue, unconvinced, but finally let it go.

Then came Geto.

Unlike the others, he took one look at you, smirked, and said,

 "You look like shit."

"Thanks," you deadpanned. "Really needed to hear that."

He chuckled, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Seriously, though... you scared us."

You exhaled, gaze drifting to the ceiling. "...Yeah. Scared myself, too."

Geto watched you for a moment, but didn't push. Instead, he grinned. "So. What's it like being Gojo's damsel in distress?"

You groaned. "I hate you."

"And I love you. Now tell me everything."

Finally, the most surprising visitor—Mei Mei.

She strolled in like she owned the place, arms folded, gaze sharp as ever. You hadn't even expected her to care, but she stood at your bedside, eyeing you like she was evaluating a stock.

"So," she mused, "you lived."

You smirked. "Disappointed?"

She chuckled, tilting her head. "If you died, I would've lost a very valuable investment."

You rolled your eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mei."

She only smiled. "Rest up, darling. I have a feeling you'll need it."

And just like that, she was gone, just as she came.

 

...

 

Once everyone left, you were finally alone again. 

Then you heard footsteps coming in, a shadow shifted by the door. 

You knew who it was, "Are you gonna stand there, or are you going to come in" you called out, turning your head to see Gojo, stepping in, scoffing.

You snorted, "I was trying to be dramatic.."

He walked over, leaning against the bedframe. "How are you feeling?"

You hesitated, fingers curling against the blanket.

"...Different."

Gojo tilted his head. "Different how?"

You exhaled. "I don't know yet."

He didn't push.

For once, Gojo didn't joke, didn't tease. He just stood there, watching you like he was waiting for you to figure it out yourself.

Gojo remained quiet, his usually cocky expression replaced with something... softer. Not quite concern, not quite pity—just there.

His fingers tapped lightly against the bedframe, a small, thoughtless rhythm. The room felt heavier now, like all the leftover words from the fight were still hanging between you, waiting to be spoken.

You swallowed.

"I thought I was gonna die."

It was the first time you admitted it out loud. And it wasn't dramatic, it wasn't meant to be—just true.

Gojo didn't react immediately. Instead, he let the silence sit. His usual sharp, bright gaze softened for just a moment before he looked away, clicking his tongue. "Yeah... I thought you were too."

You blinked. Gojo Satoru admitting that?

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before leaning down a little, meeting your eyes fully. "I know you're strong. But that thing was bad news, and when I saw you drop—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "I don't know. It was different this time."

You stared at him, something twisting in your chest. Gojo was always so untouchable, like nothing ever truly fazed him. But right now? He looked... exhausted.

"Why do you care so much?" you asked, quieter than you meant to.

His expression flickered.

Then he scoffed, shaking his head with a small grin, but there was no real humor behind it. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're you? And if you die, who's gonna keep up with me, huh?"

You snorted, despite yourself. "Tch. You act like you're the only one who keeps me on my toes."

"Obviously, because I am."

You rolled your eyes. "Delusional."

But despite the banter, despite the way he still had that smug tilt to his lips, the tension hadn't fully disappeared. You could still feel it.

Gojo shifted, his hand hovering near your wrist, like he wanted to touch you but wasn't sure if he should.

"...I was scared," he admitted, voice quieter now.

That made you freeze.

Because Gojo didn't say things like that.

You weren't sure what to say to that. You weren't even sure what you felt.

So, you did the only thing you could.

You reached out, fingers brushing against his.

Gojo tensed for half a second before his hand finally wrapped around yours, gripping just tight enough to feel real.

No jokes. No cocky remarks. Just this.

You exhaled, squeezing his hand once before closing your eyes.

For once, you let yourself rest.

 

...

 

The following morning, you were poked, prodded, and examined way too much for your liking.

Shoko, clipboard in hand, stood beside your bed, eyes sharp as she jotted something down. "Alright, let's start with the basics. Any dizziness? Blurred vision?"

You groaned, flopping your head back against the pillow. "Nope."

"Nausea?"

"Nope."

"Unexplainable cravings? A sudden desire to eat rocks?"

"...What?"

Shoko smirked. "Just checking."

You rolled your eyes, but despite your irritation, you were actually paying attention to her for the first time.

Before this, you and Shoko had only crossed paths a couple of times. A few nods in passing, maybe a greeting or two, but never anything deep. She was Gojo and Geto's friend, the school's doctor, the one with the cigarette always hanging from her lips. That was all you knew.

Now, though, you were watching her.

She was methodical, her movements clean and precise as she checked your bandages.

"You're healing too fast," she muttered, more to herself than to you.

Your brow furrowed. "Is that... a bad thing?"

Shoko didn't answer immediately. Instead, she tapped the end of her pen against her clipboard, lips pursed. "Not necessarily. But it's unusual. Even with reversed cursed energy, healing this fast shouldn't be possible without someone actively healing you" She pauses, looking at your for a second.

"So..you really didn't feel it, huh?" she finally said, tilting her head.

You frowned. 

Shoko sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Your wound. It should've been worse—way worse. But something happened."

You blinked. "Something?"

She nodded. "Your body started burning up like crazy, and then..." She paused like she was trying to find the right words. "White flames. They came from your wound like they were purging something."

Your stomach twisted. "White flames?"

Shoko nodded again, her gaze sharpening. "I've never seen anything like it. They didn't burn you, but they healed you. Your cursed energy was all over them."

You swallowed. Your cursed energy? You hadn't used any technique to heal yourself, and the reverse cursed technique wasn't something you could just do on command.

"...Are you sure?"

Shoko gave you a look. "I was there, dumbass."

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temple. Your body still felt strange—different. But if what Shoko was saying was true...

What the hell happened to you?

She turned back to her clipboard, flipping through pages, but you caught a glimpse of her notes—your energy levels, regeneration speed, abnormalities.

You tilted your head. "You enjoy this, huh?"

Shoko arched a brow. "Enjoy what?"

"Figuring things out," you said, watching her closely. "I've seen you in action before, but I never really watched you."

She paused, studying you for a moment before shrugging. "It's better than exorcising curses" she shrugs

"Nah," you mused. "It's more than that."

Shoko didn't confirm or deny it, but the small smirk tugging at her lips gave her away.

For the next hour, she ran more tests—bloodwork, energy scans, and physical exams. And throughout it all, you talked.

It wasn't anything deep at first—just little things.

She asked how you got your scars. You asked her why she hadn't been on so frequent missions. Her complaining about Gojo being a pain in the ass. You agree wholeheartedly.

Somewhere along the way, it felt less like a test and more like two people getting to know each other.

By the time she wrapped up, you found yourself watching her with something almost like amusement.

"You're a lot chattier than I expected," you remarked.

Shoko chuckled, setting her clipboard aside. "You're not half bad yourself."

You smirked. "So? What's the verdict, doc?"

She sighed, crossing her arms. "You're alive."

"Oh, good."

"And still an idiot."

"There it is."

She shook her head, smirking slightly before turning to leave. "Get some rest. And if you do start craving rocks, let me know."

You snorted, waving her off. 

"Noted."

As the door clicked shut behind her, you exhaled, staring up at the ceiling.

Shoko.

Huh.

 

⟡

 

Chapter 14: 𝐇ealing

Summary:

UPDATE, NOT A BACKSTORY, BUT MORE Y/N AND OTHER CHARACTERS!!

 

 

The first breath of fresh air outside the infirmary felt strange.

After days of being confined to a bed, surrounded by Shoko's tests and everyone checking in on you, freedom should've felt like a relief. But instead, there was this lingering unease—something crawling at the back of your mind.

You were still healing. Still under strict orders to rest. No training, no missions, just recovery.

It was suffocating.

Now, back in your dorm room, you sat cross-legged on your bed, absentmindedly running your fingers along the edges of your war fans. The cool metal pressed against your skin as you flicked them open and shut, watching the crimson accents catch the dim light.

Your eyes narrowed.

White flames.

Your own energy.

You still didn't understand what happened. The heat, the pain—it all blurred together. But then there was her.

Hinoka.

You exhaled sharply, gripping the fan a little tighter as the memory surfaced. Her voice, her presence—like a ghost stitched into the metal itself.

"You will burn away everything. Including yourself."

You had dismissed it then, too delirious to question it. But now, as you traced the intricate designs of your fans, the weight of her words settled deeper.

Who was she?

What was she to you?

 

Another knock at your door.

You frowned. You weren't expecting anyone—Shoko had already come by earlier, and Gojo had already visited once twice if you counted him peeking through your window like a damn creep.

With a sigh, you dragged yourself off your bed, your fingers still idly toying with your fans as you walked to the door. "If this is Gojo again, I swear to god—"

You swung it open—

And froze.

Yu Haibara grinned at you, bright and boyish, like he wasn't standing there with Mei Mei casually leaning against the doorframe beside him.

"You look alive!" Yu beamed, hands on his hips.

You blinked, taking a second to process before deadpanning, "Wow. What a great way to greet a recovering patient."

Mei Mei smirked, "I told him to bring a gift, but clearly, he doesn't listen."

"I am the gift," Yu announced, stepping inside without hesitation. "My presence alone is enough to brighten anyone's day."

You raised a brow. "You sure about that?"

"No," Mei Mei cut in smoothly, stepping past you with her usual elegance. "But he's persistent."

You huffed a soft laugh, shutting the door behind them. "So, what brings you two to my humble, non-hospitalized abode?"

Yu plopped down onto your bed without shame, kicking his feet up like he owned the place. "Well, you've been locked away in here for days, and since you still can't go on missions, we figured you might be bored out of your mind."

Mei Mei perched herself on your desk chair, eyes flickering to the fans you had been tinkering with. "Or brooding."

You rolled your eyes but didn't deny it. They weren't wrong.

Yu leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So? How are you really feeling?"

You hesitated. Because honestly? You weren't sure. Your body felt different. The white flames that had healed you... Shoko's theories... everything had been weighing on your mind.

Still, you weren't about to dump all of that on them.

"I'm fine," you said instead, leaning against your desk. "Annoyed that I can't train, but fine."

Mei Mei gave you a knowing look but didn't press.

Yu, however, grinned. "If it makes you feel better, I can tell you about the absolute disaster of our mission last night."

"Oh?" you smirked. "How bad?"

Yu groaned, throwing himself dramatically across your bed. "So bad. Utahime got splattered with curse guts, and Geto lost his shoe"

You burst out laughing. "No way."

"Swear on my life!" Yu grinned.

Mei Mei smirked. "It was quite the sight."

For the first time in days, you actually felt lighter.

 

.

 

But now—

You were sitting on the raised wooden platform outside, wrapped in a loose hoodie and sweatshirt, twirling one of your fans absentmindedly as you watched the others train in the courtyard.

Nanami, Yu, Geto, and Utahime were going through different exercises, sparring in pairs or practicing cursed techniques.

And Gojo?

Gojo was showing off.

like always...

Flipping through the air like some acrobat, effortlessly dodging Geto's cursed spirits while landing flashy attacks.

"Are you even trying?" Geto deadpanned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Gojo grinned, adjusting his sunglasses. "I dunno, are you?"

Geto sighed. "I hate you."

You snorted, shaking your head. Same.

From your spot, Yu caught your eye and grinned. "You look bored!" he called out.

"I am bored," you admitted. "This is torture."

Utahime huffed. "To be fair, you're healing faster than we expected."

You nodded absentmindedly, still thinking about the white flames that had healed you.

Still thinking about what the hell had happened to you?

You weren't sure what was worse—the fact that no one had an answer, or the fact that you could still feel it, lingering inside you.

Before you could spiral too much, you heard Gojo call out—

"Hey, you gonna sit there all day, or you wanna have some fun?"

You looked up to find him grinning at you, balancing on one foot like an asshole.

"I'm not allowed to train, remember?" you said dryly.

"Psh," Gojo waved a hand, "who said anything about training?"

Yu perked up, immediately on board. "Oh! Are we talking about pranking Yaga?"

Geto sighed. "Absolutely not."

But you?

You were starting to think that maybe Gojo had a point.

You tapped your fingers against your fan, eyeing the group as they continued training. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard. You should've been down there with them. Instead, you were stuck sitting like some fragile thing, benched from missions, benched from training, benched from even sparring until Shoko gave the okay to Yaga.

It was driving you insane.

"You look like you're plotting something," Utahime said, cocking her eyebrows at you.

You snorted. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Before you could respond, Gojo appeared beside you in a blink, crouching down to your level.

"So, what's the verdict? You wanna have some fun or keep pouting?" he grinned.

You rolled your eyes. "If your idea of fun involves Yaga chasing us down again, I'll pass."

Gojo gasped dramatically. "I'm offended! You think so little of me."

Geto scoffed. "We think exactly what's warranted."

Yu, still bouncing in place from earlier, finally spoke up. "Okay, but like, hypothetically, if we were to prank Yaga, what would we do?"

Utahime groaned, rubbing her temples. "Why are we even entertaining this?"

You tapped your chin, pretending to consider. It wouldn't be the worst way to kill time.

Gojo, sensing your shift, wiggled his eyebrows. "See? I knew you couldn't resist."

You sighed, shaking your head. "I hate that you're right."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said smugly.

Before any plans could actually form, you shifted slightly—and pain flared up your side.

It wasn't as bad as before, but it was enough to make you grit your teeth. You pressed a hand to your waist, fingers brushing against the bandages hidden beneath your hoodie.

It was still healing.

And though you'd been avoiding thinking about it, you could still feel it. The strange heat lingering inside you, the warmth that wasn't entirely your own. The white flames.

Gojo, observant as ever when he wanted to be, caught the shift in your expression. His grin faltered just slightly.

"You good?"

You hesitated, then forced a smirk. "I'm always good."

His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He didn't push—but he didn't believe you either.

Geto, sensing the tension, clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's focus. If we're actually pranking Yaga, let's make it worth it."

Yu grinned. "I have an idea."

Utahime groaned louder.

And you?

You decided to let yourself relax—for now.

 

..

 

That night, you found yourself in your dorm, restless.

The day had been... nice. Annoying at times, sure, but nice. It had been a while since you laughed that much. Even if it had been at Gojo and Yu running for their lives after Yaga caught them mid-prank.

Still, as you sat cross-legged on your bed, tinkering with your fans, your thoughts kept drifting.

The flames. The healing. The way your body still didn't feel entirely your own.

Your fingers traced the intricate carvings on your fans, recalling the words Hinoka had spoken to you in that strange in-between space.

You were still thinking, hm...

 

What did it all mean...

 

⟡

 

Chapter 15: 𝐏rime

۶ৎ

 

The past four months had passed in a blur of missions, training, and the same old routine with annoying Utahime—of course!

You weren't the one to complain—you enjoyed the thrill of exorcising curses, the rush of combat, notification of job well—saving people and helping them. But you had to admit, everything has been feeling too monotonous lately...

That's why, when you found Gojo and Geto were being sent on an important mission with an escorting job, no less—you couldn't help to feel a twinge of jealousy.

you were lounging in the common area with them, listening to their conversations. Gojo was messing with his sunglasses, as he was sitting right next to you, while Geto was leaning on the wall.

"So..let me get this straight," you drawled, propping your chin on your palm, "You guy got a big deal mission, an important one for escorting—while I'm stuck here, doing the same old exorcism..." you sigh dramatically, slumping further into your seat, "Man, so unfair!" you huffed out,

Geto chuckled at your pouting face, "It's not exactly a vacation, you know—it's serious business, y/n" 

Gojo, ever so smug, grinned as he flexed his fingers, "Yeah, yeah—but I get why she's jealous. We get a VIP treatment, a high-profile escort mission..while she's stuck dealing with small fry curses" He leaned towards you, giving you a shit-eating grin.

"Bet that stings, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, scoffing at him. "First of all, shut up. Second of all, yeah—it kinda does. You guys do all the fun stuff while I'm stuck babysitting cursed sports that put up a fight with me" you pouted, kicking your keep up on the chair across from you, "I wanna go on an exciting mission too.."

Gojo smirked, "Aww, you poor baby" Gojo poked your cheeks, and you huffed. Grabbing onto the cushion beside you and chucking it at him, to your dismay he dodged it effortlessly, laughing.

"bastard.." you cursed under your breath.

Geto just shook his head, amused. "You do realize this isn't some grand adventure, right? We have to protect—someone important"

"Yeah, yeah" you waved him off, but deep down you were curious. "So, who is this big-shot girl or guy in this situation?" you asked,

A beat of silence echoed,

Gojo clicked his tongue, "Yaga-sensei said it would be Tengen's next vessel, some girl—Riko Amani"

You sat up a little straighter at that. Now that was interesting to you—you knew about master Tengen's whole immortality situation but to actually be involved with the vessel, and protecting some girl, now that was next level.

"Okay... maybe I am—a little more jealous now," you admitted, 

"Called it," Gojo grinned,

"Fuck you" you shot back, now you were really pissed, irritation flickering in your tone. You were pissed, jealous—stuck here, while there don't his cool, important mission.

Gojo just laughed at your irritation, slinging an arm over your shoulder for mock comfort, "Aww, don't be sad..I'll bring you a souvenir!"

You elbowed him hard enough to make him flinch, 

Geto only sighed, shaking his head

"Just don't do anything reckless, while we're gone" Geto replied,

You just stretched, letting out an exaggerated yawn, "No promises.." you had a Cheshire-like smile on your face.

 

⟡

 

You were just stomping down the halls of Jujustu High, arms crossed, your expression twisted into a deep scowl, as you vented to the unfortunate that was stuck with you—Nanami and Haibara.

"It's not fucking unfair," you groaned, throwing your hands up dramatically, "Gojo and Geto get sent on this high-stakes mission—protecting some girl that is Tengen's vessel, while I'm here fighting small and weak curses," you said, you were practically yapping their ears off, as you kept on talking.

Haibara laughed, he was used to your complaints by now, "Well—at least you get to be with us!" he chirped, with a smile on his face.

You shot him a look, "Maybe..." 

Nanami sighed, flipping his hair to the side, "It's not like they're on vacation" he muttered,

"You sound like Geto.." you huffed, kicking a loose pebble down the path. "Do you know how big this is Nanamin—there protecting the future of jujutsu society, or something like that, and now...I'm just talking to my lowerclassmen about how much it sucks that I got left behind here" you exhaled, 

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, "Maybe if you spent less time complaining and more time training..you'd get picked for this mission"

You gasped, turning around—placing a dramatic hand over your chest, "Did you just call me weak?" you glared,

"I didn't say that"

"Well, you implied that and that's so cruel" You frowned,

Haibara snorted, watching the two of you bicker around, "Well if it helps—I'd pick you for my team!"

You turned to Haibara, "Well, that makes me feel a little bit better" 

You just sighed, crossing your arms, "I swear, if those two come back bragging about some cool fight or some crazy near-death experience, I'm actually going to lose it"

"Shouldn't you be hoping for them to not have a near-death experience?" Nanami deadpanned.

You waved him off, "They'll be fine...Gojo is not an idiot and Geto balances him out besides they won't be easy to kill"

Haibara hummed, tilting his head, "Maybe next time you'll get the exciting mission?"

You rolled your eyes, "Doubt it—probably be stuck dealing with some dumb lower-grade curses, while Gojo is being Gojo" you said, nanami finally came to a halt making you pause in your rants, turning to you with a blank expression.

"Are you done?"

You huffed, kicking another pebble. "Yeah..I guess.."

Haibara clapped his hands together, "Great! Then let's get some food, and you complain about it there instead"

You put your pointer finger on your cheek, pondering for a moment before clapping your hands.

"I do like food!" your eyes were sparkling, while Nanami sighed.

...

 

A few days passed, about two days in total—you accepted your fate as the one left behind, Yaga called for Nanami and Haibara.

and when you heard why—you were going to crash out

almost flipping his desk over,

"You're sending them?" you asked incredulously, you were in disbelief, your eyes darting at the two standing on the sidelines. "For the Star plasma vessel mission?" 

Yaga, his hands crossed gave you a flat look, "Yes."

Your jaw clenched—"So..let me get this straight.." you pointed a Nanami, "This guy, who hates being a sorcerer.." then you changed to point at Haibara, "And the guy, who still thinks the world is sunshine and rainbows, get to go on that mission—after I already got left out of it?"

"Correct" Yaga confirmed, 

You threw your hands up, "Unbelievable—what do I need to start wearing sunglasses, and acting like an asshole to get sent on cool missions?"

Nanami sighed, rubbing his temple. 

"Not this again—"

Haibara, the optimist, gave you an apologetic smile, "I'm sure there's a good reason! Maybe they just needed—"

"I'm sorry Yu, but this is bullshit" you cut in, "Rigged, this is rigged—you guys are just plotting against me just to make me pissed" 

"I assure you, we're not," Yaga said, completely unfazed by your outburst. You huffed, crossing your arms so tightly it was a miracle you didn't snap in half. "I swear to god if you two come back with some wild story about fighting assassins or some crazy near-death experience.."

"We'll tell you all about it, I promise" Haibara grinned,

Nanami shot him a look, "That's not helping.."

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face.." this has to be the mark of my villain origin story.."

"Oh god" Nanami groaned, "You'll live"

"Will I?" you were on the floor dramatically, "Will I Nanamin?" you said, he twitched at the nickname once again,

Yaga sighed, already done with you.

"Alright, that's enough, you two should get ready.."

You shot a glare at them before spinning on your heel and storming out.

"Where are you going?" Nanami called after you,

You turned looking at the blonde, "To go sulk" you snapped, 

"Obviously"

 

.

It's been a few days, you've been sulking. Hard

You found yourself walking around aimlessly around the campus, hands tucked into your sleeves, muttering something under your breath like some tragic ghost forgotten but you were totally were.

In the past time, you managed to get your uniform fixed, something that was good for the school's dress code that wouldn't have Utahime annoyed you rolled your eyes, it was definitely better than the ugly thing you were wearing before.

It was just a sleeveless black tank, with matching pants and black heels, simple but — cute.

"They should be back around now, right" you grumbled, kicking a stray rock.

"Probably all smug about it too—ugh I can already see Gojo's dumb face"

You let out a deep, dramatic sigh, shoulders slumping. "Watch, they're all gonna walk in all, 'oh my god Y/N, you wouldn't believe what happened! There was a huge battle! We almost died, but—we made it out—barely—" You rolled your eyes, exaggerating your voice mocking them, then groaning.

"Ugh, disgusting. I hate missing out on things like this" you muttered, it's like the universe wanted to punish you even more, and the air suddenly shifted.

The buzzing sound pricked at your ears—it was faint at first but grew louder. You slowed your steps, brows furrowing as an eerie sensation crawled up your spine, 'huh'

You looked around, the courtyard looked the same as always.

—then you saw it.

A swarm of flies—it was like a black mass—hovering in the distance, just pasted the entrance of the school, "What the hell" you exclaimed, instinctively, your fingers twitched towards your fans, shifting into your stance, piecing what to do in your mind.

'but how did they get through the barrier'

Suddenly, through your peripheral vision, you saw a man who was walking amidst the eerie stillness. You gulped, his..presence—was heavy, suffocating, it made your instincts scream at you, but you didn't feel any curse energy nearby.

it was strange, 

Then your eyes flickered towards him, taking him in.

Tall, broad, built—your favorite three letters.

Messy black hair, handsome, —striking features in some sort of a rough, careless way, making your stomach flip before your brain even registers. He stood there with an easy stance, completely relaxed, and then your eyes landed on his blade.

Then—you saw blood.

Someone it was splattered on his pants, clinging to him like a second skin. Your flirty intrigue faltered, your instinct creeping back up.

Okay, just a little unsettling.

But your mouth worked faster, than your common sense.

"Okay...who is this dangerously attractive murder?" you muttered under your breath, your lips quirking slightly despite yourself. Your fingers still twitching around your fans, ready to set fire—but you weren't threatened, not yet at least. 

The man tilted his head slightly, his sharp green eyes landing on you, He looked, amused to say the least,

'Fuck..'

"You lost, sweetheart?" he drawled, voice low and lazy like this was some type of stroll in the park for him. That shouldn't be attractive to you—but it was though,

Unfortunately,

Your lips parted to quip something back, because—duh, there was so hot guy in front of you, but his expression changed. Subtle, but it was there.

His gaze flicked down to your fans, then back up at your face.

You squinted at him, tilting your head. Damn, he was really fine, like fine fine, not just fine. Your eyes looked back at the obvious blood splattered, like he walked out of one of his favorite horror movies, the one with the mask.

"Well," you exhaled, giving him a once-over look.

"You're definitely hot, but you also look like you just committed a felony, so that's a little bit of a turn-off, you know" you shrugged, "besides that ugly thing on your shoulder is a total throw-off," you said,

His lips curled into something between a smirk and an unimpressed sneer, "That so?"

"Mm-hmm" you hummed, fanning yourself dramatically, "Tragic, really. If you weren't literally dripping in evidence, I might've flirted harder" you ended, exhaling.

The man stared at you for a moment, then disappeared out of nowhere—

'huh' you looked around, 

Whack—

Your vision blurred as something heavy slammed into the side of your head. A split second later, you felt yourself on the ground with a dull thud, and you groaned. The world spun around, you barely processed the realization before darkness swallowed your thoughts whole.

 

.

**bonus scene: 

 

Toji huffed, shaking his fist as he looked at your unconscious body sprawled on the ground,

"Damn" he muttered, 

"—talks too s'much"

With that he slung you over his shoulder like a sack of rice and walked off, completely unfazed.

 

 

Chapter 16: 𝐒ave and 𝐑escue

 

۶ৎ

 

 

Your head was practically throbbing in pain. You opened your eyes, your vision still blurry, and worst of all—your mouth was dry too, damn you need a Coke or something.

The last thing you saw, or remembered was that stupid hot guy with blood on him, you were flirting with for maybe three seconds, and then—

your eyes widen, that bastard knocked you out.

You were pissed, now you were in a fucking van.

A van.

The realization hit you like a truck. Your body tensed, instincts flaring up, feeling the bumps from the road, seemed like you were being driven somewhere,

You looked around the van, the dim interior was cramped, reeking of stale air, and something metallic—and it smelled like smoke too.

You looked to your side to see a woman sitting across from you, she was awake—also really scared too. 

You furrow your brows, "What the fuck—" you mumbled, from your sudden movement, the women jolted looking just as startled as your feet. She had dark hair, soft features, and a face that screamed ' I didn't sign up for this shit'

' me too' you mumbled,

Okay, you should wait and stop,

1. you didn't know this woman, she didn't look familiar to you.

2. you were both in a moving van

3. you haven't dragged her willingly,

4. someone was gonna get their ass beat, period.

"...You've got to be shitting me," you muttered, easily breaking out of the ropes. Running a hand down your face, before snapping your attention to her. 

"Some damn pervert kidnap us or something? Because if so, I swear to god, I am going to burnt his whole fucking van to the ground" you barked, baring teeth.

The woman—who was, again, tied up—blinked at you. "...Uh.."

"Just hold on tight"

WHOOSH !!

A burst of crimson fire erupted, engulfing the van's wall with a searing heat that spread like wildfire—expect controlled, precise, yours...

Screams rang out from the front, and the van swerved.

The tied-up woman's eyes widened, "Wait—!"

With a satisfying crack, the van flipped, the world tilting violently as the metal screeched and glass shattered, the van skidded on the pavement, sparks flying. You broke the door of the van with your leg. Smoke was curling up in the air, the heat from your flames still licking the edge of the wreckage. The smell didn't bother you, as you shaked off your daze.

A groan was heard,

Right, the women.

You turned to see her, still tangled in rope. Her eyes were widened flicked from the fire to you, breath coming in sharp and uneven gasps.

"Hey, hey breathe," you said, waving a hand to dispel some of the smoke, "You not dead yet.."

She didn't feel reassured, you rolled your eyes, stepping forward and slicing through her restraints with a swift flick of your fans. The second she was free, you dragged her out. She practically collapsed forward, bracing herself on her hands. 

"You—you set the van on fire," she wheezed.

You smirked, "Yeah, and? I got us out, didn't I?"

She exhaled sharply. clearing trying to process everything, "Your insane"

"I prefer efficient" You offered her a hand,

"Now, come on, let's get out here before those bastards wake up.."

She hesitated, then took your hand—allowing you to help her to get back on her feet. The two of you stumbled out of the burning wreckage, stepping onto the road.

 

⟡

 

"I—i'm Misato Kuroi, I was supposed to be—" she paused herself mid-sentence. Her eyes widened in realization, 

"Riko!"

You caught a shift in her expression immediately—the way her face fell, the utter panic in her eyes twisting into something heavier. Something close to dread.

Your stomach is tense,

"...Wait," you said slowly, "You don't think—" 

Misato's hands curled into fists. "That was the last time I saw her," she whispered, turning to the sky and looking up at the sky, "She probably with tengen by now" she whispered, you felt your eyes twitching, 

"What?" you snapped, turning to Misato so fast she flinched from your fast demeanor change. "What the hell do you mean she's with Tengen?" you grunt, Misato's expression crumbled, her hands shaking at her sides. "That was the last time I saw her. She was supposed to—she was supposed to be with them now or at least see it"

Your blood was boiling—jaw tightening as her words sank in.

That means, gojo and Geto had already finished...

already handed her over—to Tengen.

You grip on your fan tightened as the realization hit—

It was over, you sighed.

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me," you growled under your breath.

Misato looked up at you, stated by your sudden shift in demeanor, but you weren't even paying attention, your feet were already moving, bolting towards Jujustu High.

"WAIT—where are you going?!" Misato called after you,

"Don't worry about it" you yelled back, you were pissed.

Didn't care you just got kidnapped

didn't you probably kill them, I mean they deserved it.

but that bastard went on their 'cool mission' without— and now it was done.

didn't even get to see it at all, made you pissed, so you ran faster straight to jujutsu high.

 

..

 

Your lungs burned by the time you reached Jujustu High, but you didn't stop. The moment you stepped onto the campus, you realized something was off—the swarm of flies had been buzzing around earlier, Gone?

that bastard is probably gone.

The air was thick, heavy—like the aftermath of war, or a battle—something bad.

Then you saw, 

Geto..

He was crawling, slumped against the steps of the school. His uniform was disheveled, and blood smeared along the pathway he stood. His arm was hanging limp at the side, his expression was blank—too blank. 

"What the hell happened?" you demanded, storming over.

He didn't react right away, just slowly, listened his head his eyes unfocused—like he had to process the fact you were standing in front of him. Your eyes widen at the huge 'x' mark on his chest, it was bleeding.

Your irritation faltered,

it was weird, geto was supposed to say something, something—easy and with smooth confidence about him, but now?

he looked...wrong. You crouched down, eyes narrowing as you got a better look at him. 

"Oi" you nudged his leg with a knee, "You gonna answer me, or am I just supposed to guess"

still, no response,

"Where's gojo, the girl, riko something" you pressed, your frustration bubbled up again, overriding the flicker of unease in your gut. Your hand shot out, gripping the front of whatever was of his uniform jacket was lifted, "Geto.."

Finally—his eyes met yours, there was definitely something wrong.

"Alright, that is it!" You yanked him up, hooking an arm around his waist, holding him into a bridal style.

"..y/n..what are you—"

"shut up, I'm taking you to shoko" you snapped, you were moving faster with him in your hand. "You better not bleed on me, Geto. I just got this uniform made, and it wasn't cheap" 

Geto didn't respond, you just starting running faster.

 

Chapter 17: 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭

 

 

 

⟡

 

this is the fun fact section:

 

your cursed ability, vermillion winds is a combination of fire and wind, making it both long-range and close-combat ability. It's fast, aggressive, and hard to counter because of how much it can burn through enemies, humans, or curses.

It can be silent or loud, when you focus, it can be an assassin's blade, but when you are reckless or emotional, the wind howls like a storm and burns everything.

your fire can burn without needing oxygen to have it burn, making being impossible to suffocate or put out.

and...similar to fire-bending, you'll be able to turn it into a different color, but you already know that!

 

⟡

Chapter 18: 𝐒een

Summary:

UPDATE, NOT A BACKSTORY, BUT MORE Y/N AND OTHER CHARACTERS!!

۶ৎ

 

Your mind was spinning, what the hell happened to him?

Why was he so bruised and battered, 

was it that guy...

It only took you a few minutes to reach the infirmary, as you kicked the door open with much force, slamming it against the wall. The noise startled Shoko who of course had a cigarette between her lips, she turned raising a brow, but his eyes landed on Geto.

"What the—" her words trailed,

Her usual laid-back expression dropped to something serious flashing in her eyes. Without a word she started moving forward, putting on gloves on her hands as she motioned to the empty bed.

"Put him down. Now"

You didn't need to be told twice. With a controlled drop, you placed Geto onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress like dead weight. His breathing was slow, but the blood seeping through his uniform was still fresh—still too much. Shoko was already moving, assessing the wound with practiced hands, cutting away the ruined fabric to get a better look.

You stood there, hands on your hips, your chest still rising and falling from the sprint to Jujutsu High. Your mind raced, trying to piece things together.

"So? How is he??" You sputtered out, 

Shoko shot you a look. "He's in bad shape, but his vitals are okay... What the hell happened?"

You didn't answer immediately. Instead, your fingers twitched at your sides as you thought about what you saw—Geto barely holding himself up, the eerie quiet around campus, and the lack of Gojo's loud, annoying presence.

Something was wrong.

Something was really wrong.

Your jaw clenched, and you exhaled sharply, stepping back and leaning against the wall. 

"I don't know, I just saw him just bloodied up"

Shoko hummed, focusing on cleaning Geto's wound. You watched in silence, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. Your irritation was still simmering, but it was drowned out by something else now.

A bad feeling.

A really bad feeling.

Where the hell was Gojo?

 

⟡

 

The infirmary was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of Geto's breathing. He lay on the bed, his face unnervingly still, his chest barely rising and falling beneath the bloodied remains of his uniform. The room smelled of antiseptic and metal—like every hospital you had ever hated being in.

You sat beside him, leg bouncing impatiently as you stared. His face, usually composed with that lazy confidence, was slack, drained of everything that made him. And you hated it.

"You look like shit," you muttered, breaking the silence, even though you knew he couldn't hear you.

The tension in your chest didn't ease. Your fingers twitched against your knee before you let out an annoyed sigh and reached forward, pressing your palm against his wrist. He was cold. Too cold. A frown pulled at your lips.

You hated feeling useless.

Shoko had already done what she could. She was across the room now, scribbling something in her notes, likely tracking his vitals. But you could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes.

It wasn't enough.

You exhaled sharply, your fingers tightening just slightly around Geto's wrist.

"Come on," you muttered under your breath. "Don't tell me some loser really took you down" You said trying to hit your uncertainty,

Then—

It happened again.

A searing heat surged from your fingertips, racing up your arm and flooding through your chest like fire in your veins. White flames exploded around you, spiraling outward, engulfing Geto's entire body.

Your heart lurched.

The chair beneath you scraped against the floor as you jerked backward, nearly falling over.

"What the fuck?!"

Shoko's head snapped up, her eyes going wide as the flames crackled and danced around Geto's body.

"Oh, hell no—" she cursed, already moving toward you, her clipboard clattering to the floor.

You couldn't move, frozen in place as you watched the white-hot fire swirl, illuminating the dim infirmary in an eerie glow. It wasn't like a normal fire. It didn't burn. It didn't destroy. It moved almost deliberately, wrapping around Geto.

Your breath hitched.

Then, suddenly—

Whoosh.

The flames vanished.

The room fell silent.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you looked down.

Geto was breathing easier now. His chest no longer rose and fell with the shallow, pained movements from before. The deep gash across his torso—the one that had refused to fully heal—was now only a faint mark, like an old scar.

"What the actual fuck," you breathed.

Shoko was already on him, pressing her fingers against his pulse, checking his vitals with furrowed brows. You barely registered the movement, your mind still racing, your own hands trembling in your lap.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

Shoko clicked her tongue, sitting back slightly. "His vitals just—stabilized."

No shit.

She turned to you, sharp eyes locking onto yours. "Okay, it happened again—with you and now with Geto.."

"What did you just do, y/n?"

"I—" You shook your head, feeling like your brain had short-circuited. "I don't know."

"Well, you better figure it out," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "Because that's—something else.."

Your stomach twisted.

You pressed your lips together, gripping the edge of the chair like it would somehow ground you. But it didn't.

That wasn't normal cursed energy—was it a reverse technique? It wasn't anything you'd ever seen before or used.

It had happened before—with you—but you had convinced yourself it was Shoko's doing. That she had healed you.

But now?

There was no denying it.

It was you.

You had done something.

Something new.

Shoko exhaled sharply, rubbing at her temple. "Okay. Walk me through it. What were you thinking before it happened?"

You hesitated, your mind still reeling. "I just—" You swallowed hard. 

"I didn't want him to die."

She stared at you for a long moment, like she was trying to piece together something impossible. "That's it?"

"What else do you want me to say?" you snapped, voice a little sharper than intended. Your hands were still trembling in your lap, your heart still hammering in your chest. "I was desperate, Shoko. He looked dead."

Shoko sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Okay. Well... something happened."

"No shit."

She ignored your sarcasm, her eyes narrowing slightly as she thought. "That didn't feel like any cursed energy I've ever seen before."

"Because it—" You stopped yourself.

Was that even true?

Your eyes flickered to your hands, your fingers still tingling, a faint warmth lingering there.

It was cursed energy.

It had to be.

It had just... changed.

Evolved, maybe.

You let out a slow breath, trying to push past the way your body still felt like it was buzzing.

Then, suddenly—

Geto moved.

Your body tensed as his fingers twitched against the sheets. His breath hitched slightly before his head lolled to the side, brows furrowing like he was waking from a deep sleep.

Then, his eyes fluttered open.

You and Shoko both froze.

He blinked slowly, his golden eyes hazy, disoriented. His gaze flickered between the two of you before settling on you, confusion written all over his face.

"...Why are you looking at me like that?" His voice was rough, hoarse from exhaustion.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

What the hell were you supposed to say?

Oh, hey, Geto. You almost died, but I just miraculously healed you with some cursed energy that decided to turn into fucking white flames.

Shoko was the first to move, pressing her fingers against his pulse, her brows furrowing as she checked his vitals. "Your heart rate is normal," she muttered, almost to herself.

"No shit," Geto rasped.

Her eyes flicked back to you, sharp and searching. "Do it again."

You stiffened. "What?"

"Try to summon it."

You frowned, your pulse kicking up again. "Shoko, I don't even know what I did—"

"Then figure it out, you did it once, now twice"

You clenched your jaw but didn't argue. Slowly, you turned your palms upward, trying to focus, trying to summon whatever the hell that was again.

At first, nothing.

and still nothing.

"I—I don't know how to do it again," you admitted, your voice quieter now.

Shoko was still watching you, her expression unreadable, but something was calculating in her eyes. "You said it happened when you didn't want him to die."

You exhaled slowly, nodding. "Yeah. I wasn't thinking about doing anything. It just... happened."

Geto shifted against the sheets, still looking a little out of it. "So, it was instinct?"

"Maybe," you muttered. "But that's not how reverse cursed technique works. You don't just accidentally heal someone, and it sure as hell doesn't look like that."

Shoko leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. "You're sure it was your cursed energy?"

You shot her a flat look. "Who the hell else's would it be?"

She shrugged. "I'm just trying to make sense of this."

You were, too.

Your mind was still replaying the moment over and over—the way Geto's wound had sealed itself shut under your hands, the way that strange energy had surged through you like it wasn't even your own.

"I don't think it was just reverse cursed technique," you admitted. "It felt different."

Shoko hummed in thought. "Different how?"

You struggled for the words, your fingers twitching slightly in your lap. "Like... it wasn't just healing him. It was changing something. Like my cursed energy wasn't the same anymore."

Geto let out a slow breath. "That's not supposed to be possible."

"No shit."

Silence stretched between the three of you.

Your mind was still buzzing, still racing, but there was something else creeping in now—something that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

If this wasn't normal cursed energy... if this wasn't something anyone had ever seen before...

What the hell did that make you?

Your chest tightened slightly, and you clenched your jaw, pushing the thought away.

Not now.

Shoko finally sighed, leaning back. "Okay. We don't know what this is yet. But we do know that it healed Geto." She paused, then shot you a look. "And you."

You swallowed hard. "Yeah."

Geto's gaze flickered between the two of you before settling on you again. "Are you okay?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question.

"Geto... of course I am," you said, though your voice wavered slightly. Your thoughts were still scrambled, and your hands still felt weird—like they weren't entirely yours. But you shook it off, focusing on him instead. Your eyes narrowed. "Geto, are you okay? You were literally bleeding out. What the hell happened?"

His jaw tightened slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "The Star Plasma Vessel mission."

Your stomach twisted.

The last thing you remembered was hearing about the mission in passing. Gojo and Geto had been assigned to escort the girl—Amanai Riko—to Master Tengen. It was supposed to be a high priority, but it was them. They were the strongest. If anyone could handle it, it was them.

And yet, Geto was sitting in front of you now, looking exhausted, looking changed, and something told you things hadn't gone as planned.

You stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

Geto hesitated before answering. "We got attacked."

Your breath hitched slightly. "By who?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know. But he—he wasn't a sorcerer."

You frowned. "What?"

Geto let out a slow, shaky breath. "I don't know how to explain it. He didn't use cursed energy. At all. But he—" Geto stopped himself, his expression darkening.

Your stomach churned. "But he what?"

Geto's hands curled into fists. "He killed her."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

You felt your breath catch in your throat.

the star plasma vessel.

Dead?

"He shot her"

A beat of silence followed,

That didn't make any sense. If he wasn't a sorcerer, then how the hell did he manage to do this to Geto?

Your brain was still catching up to everything—Geto's injuries, Riko's death, Gojo's absence,But then, a thought crept into your head, one that made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

You hesitated for a second before speaking. "Did he have black hair, a scar, wearing a black shirt, and sweatpants"

Geto's head snapped up. His brows furrowed slightly, eyes narrowing in confusion. "How do you—"

"Oh my god," you muttered, your heart sinking. The realization hit you like a truck.

You had seen him.

You had literally flirted with him, and he was covered in Geto's blood..

Your hands shot to your head as the memory came rushing back like a bad fever dream. The suffocating presence, the messy black hair, those sharp green eyes that had flickered with amusement, and the way he had looked at you before knocking you out cold.

"Oh my fucking god."

Shoko blinked at you, brows raised. "What?"

Your fingers dug into your temples, stomach twisting with regret. "Oh my god, I flirted with him."

Shoko and Geto just stared at you.

The words tumbled out of your mouth faster than your common sense could catch up. "That—that guy. The one who killed Riko. I saw him before all of this—before I blacked out. And you know what I did?"

Shoko's face was unreadable, but Geto looked more alarmed than ever. 

"What?"

"I called him hot."

The silence was deafening.

Shoko sighed, rubbing her temples. "I really shouldn't be surprised at this point."

Geto, however, was not amused. His gaze darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. "You saw him?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, something almost dangerous underneath. "Where?"

Your lips parted, but your brain was still in overdrive. The memory of that encounter felt so surreal now—like something out of a messed-up fever dream.

"I-I don't know exactly," you admitted. "I was walking somewhere, and suddenly, I just—felt it. Like, his presence before I even saw him." You swallowed. "It was heavy. But he didn't have any cursed energy. It was weird."

Geto's jaw tightened.

"And then?" he pressed.

You cleared your throat. "Well... I may have... commented on his attractiveness before realizing he was covered in blood."

Shoko exhaled slowly, shaking her head.

Geto just stared at you.

You shifted under his gaze. "In my defense, I didn't know he was a mass murderer yet."

Geto's expression was unreadable, but you could feel the disbelief radiating off of him. "Are you serious right now?"

"I wish I wasn't." You groaned, rubbing your temples. "But yeah. And then, y'know... he knocked me out."

Geto's hands clenched into fists, his entire demeanor shifting. "You mean he attacked you?"

"Uh, yeah?" You huffed. "But like, I totally could've handled it if he didn't pull that disappearing act out of nowhere."

Geto didn't respond. His expression darkened, and something in his energy shifted—something dangerous. You had never seen him like this before.

You hesitated. "Geto?"

His voice was low when he finally spoke. "He literally killed Riko right in front of me."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"He didn't hesitate," Geto continued, his voice steady but sharp like a blade. "He just shot her."

A lump formed in your throat. You had barely known Riko, but she was just a kid. She had her entire life ahead of her. And now, she was just... gone.

And you had flirted with the man who did it.

"Fuck," you whispered.

Shoko crossed her arms. "We need to find Gojo."

You nodded, pushing down the unease in your chest. "Yeah."

Geto exhaled slowly, regaining some composure, but his gaze was still distant. "We don't even know where he is."

"Then we start looking." Your voice was firm, steady.

 

⟡

 

You watched as Geto turned on his heel, his expression unreadable as he strode toward the exit. His movements were stiff, his shoulders tense like he was barely holding something back.

Then—he broke into a run.

Your heart jumped. 

"Geto—"

You made a move to follow, your instincts screaming at you not to let him go alone. But before you could take another step, a firm hand landed on your shoulder.

Shoko.

"Wait," she said quietly.

Your body froze, but your heart was racing. "Shoko, we can't just—"

"I know," she interrupted voice level but firm. "But running after him like this won't change anything."

Your jaw clenched. "He's alone right now, and last time he almost died"

"And what are you gonna do if you catch up to him?" Shoko shot back. "You don't even know what you're dealing with yet. We don't even know where Gojo is, and you're still figuring out whatever the hell that was with your cursed energy."

You swallowed hard, frustration bubbling in your chest. Every part of you wanted to move, to chase after him, to do something. But you knew she was right.

That didn't mean it was any easier to accept.

Shoko sighed, finally loosening her grip on your shoulder. "Just... give him a second."

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. You hated this. The waiting, the uncertainty. The helplessness.

Your gaze flickered toward the door where Geto had disappeared.

The air between you and Shoko grew heavier, weighed down by everything unspoken.

After a moment, you exhaled sharply, glancing at her. 

"I hate this."

Shoko nodded. "Yeah. Me too."

Silence stretched between you.

Then, softer—

"...You really flirted with a murderer?"

A groan left your lips as you buried your face in your hands. "Don't remind me."

You exhaled sharply, and muttered, "I need a cigarette.."

She snorted. "Yeah, no kidding."

Without another word, she pulled out her pack and tossed it to you. You caught it with ease, flipping it open and pulling one out before handing it back.

The two of you moved without thinking, stepping outside into the cool night air. The silence out here felt different—less suffocating, more grounding.

You lit your cigarette first, inhaling deeply before exhaling a slow, steady stream of smoke. Shoko followed, leaning against the railing beside you.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Just the soft glow of the embers, the faint scent of tobacco mixing with the crisp air, the distant hum of the world moving on while yours felt like it had stopped.

Then, finally—

"I flirted with a fucking murderer, huh."

Shoko turned her head slightly, lips curling into something between amusement and disbelief. "Yeah, you did."

You groaned, tilting your head back. "And he was hot, too. That's the worst part."

Shoko took another drag. "I mean... yeah."

You shot her a look. "You're not supposed to agree with me."

She shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it."

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. "God, what is my life right now?"

Shoko hummed. "A mess."

You raised your cigarette in a mock toast. "To making terrible decisions."

Shoko clinked her own against yours. "And surviving them."

The two of you inhaled at the same time, exhaling in sync.

 

⟡

 

Chapter 19: 𝐭oast

 

۶ৎ

August 2007, 

⟡

 

one year passed, since that chaotic night, and somehow, you were here.

now, a third-year, and now still loud, reckless but different

but physically, you leveled up.

You were gone from that slightly scrappy look of your second-year days. You were simple now, but still fashionable. You carried yourself differently now, stronger, sharper. Your physique had toned up from your non-stop training, your once-messy hair was styled effortlessly, and your features had matured into something that turned heads.

Your attitude much—if anything, was a confidence boost that just made you even more of a menace. 

The first years looked at you like some untouchable upperclassman, the second years tried to keep up. And the teacher? They had long since accepted that you were a lost cause when it came to following rules, not that you cared.

you even got a tattoo, 

You were strolling through the hallways of the school, the warm afternoon breeze catching your hair as you walked down the hallways, turning your hair to see Geto and Haibara. They were sipping on some sodas, as your grin widened.

"Boys," you greeted, stretching your arms overhead as you approached. "What's this? A secret little meeting without me? I'm offended." you dramatically put your hand on your chest,

Haibara looked at you first, a little startled, but Geto barely spared a glance at you, 

"not everything is about you, y/n" geto said, exhaling slightly. You gasped, placing a hand on your hips, "How dare you? I thought we established ages ago I am, in fact, the main character of this school"

Haibara chuckled, shaking his head, while Geto finally glanced at you properly. His gaze flickered over you for a second—maybe analyzing you.

"If you're just going to be a menace, you can go bother Gojo.." he muttered, you stood there, "Gojo's annoying," you said simply, 

"But—I, however, am a delight"

Haibara raised a brow, clearly amused, while Geto didn't say anything to you.

"Sure,"

"So..is there something you guys are talking about?"

"Oh! we were talking about my mission, I'm going to tomorrow with Nanami!" He exclaimed with a smile,

"Hm..seems pretty cool to me"

"I'm excited too about it," Haibara said, his smile was always too infectious, it made you smile.

A moment of silence passed,

"Y/n..haibara..do you like being a jujutsu sorcerer, it's not too hard.." Geto asked, with his eyes closed to you. You were taken aback by the sudden question, while Haibara immediately went into thought.

"Hm..let's see.."

"I never really been the kinda guy who thinks too deeply about things, but—I like doing something not everyone else can do, and I like working hard!" You chuckled at Haibara light response, 

"I see—i guess that goo" Geto hummed, before turning to you, "How about you y/n?.."

You exhaled, plopping down on the extra space on the couch, as you mulled over it. "It's not really about what I want," you admitted, "My parents wanted this for me...pushed me into it. So here I am" you shrugged.

Geto's gaze was on you, "I mean, don't get me wrong—I'm good at it, of course" You flashed them a confident smirk. "But if you're asking if this is my dream job? Hell no.." 

Haibara looked at you with a slight surprise, while Geto's expression was unreadable, 

"So if it was up to you, you wouldn't be here?" he asked 

You shrugged, "Maybe—maybe not. Doesn't matter. I'm here, so might as well make the most of it.." you smiled, 

Geto was quiet for a moment before he gave a small nod to you. You shifted your body, fully looking at Geto, noticing the eyebags under his eyes. You felt a pang of concern,

'he hasn't been sleeping, huh' You frowned, you felt some worry.

You heard the sound of heels echoing through the hallways to see a blonde woman stirring towards your little group, a confident smirk on her lips, then stopping in front of you guys.

"You with the hair—are you geto, I was wondering what type of women you go for," she said, striking a pose, your cock a brow at her. 

She looked good, hmm. you wanted to ask where did she get her jeans from,

"Who are you?"

"I like the type of girl who eats a lot!" Haibara exclaimed, Geto just turned to him, 

"Haibara.." Geto shot him a tired look, you leaned back on your hands, amused.

"Don't worry about her Geto..she is not a bad person—i'm a great judge of character!"

"You say that, yet you're sitting next to me" Geto muttered,

"Yeah!"

"Well, I like the type of girls or boys who can keep up with me" you replied smoothly, flashing a playful at her. 

"Oho, I like that confidence," The blonde woman said, nodding in approval.

 

⟡

 

You stretched your arms over your head with a yawn, "Alright..I'm feeling kinda restless. Haibara, you wanna bounce?"

Haibara perked up, "Oh! Yeah, sure!"

You nudged Geto's shoulder as you stood. "Try not to look so miserable while making new friends, yeah?"

He gave you a deadpan look,

Haibara chuckled, waving as you both walked off down the hall, leaving Getowith the mysterious blonde woman. "Haibara...do you think that—Geto acting strange lately, feels like there a storm hanging over his head.." you said,

Haibara hummed in thought, "He's been thinking a lot..."

You just nodded, before huffing, "It's like something changed within him, I just wanna shake him back to life. Like, 'Hey, idiot! Talk to us" You waved your hands dramatically, making Haibara laugh.

"I don't think shaking is the answer" he chuckled, 

"Maybe not, but it'd make me feel better..at least," You said, before nudging him. "Anyways, enough about moody Geto, "Anyways..what do you wanna do?"

Haibara thought for a moment, his hand underneath his chin. "Oh, let's get food!"

You snorted at him, "You and food..man. It's like one true type, but I like" 

"Hey, food never let me down!" He patted his stomach proudly, "Unlike people, food is always there for you..." 

"Deep," you teased, 

"Alright, let's go..you walking stomach" you mused, ruffling his hair as you both walked, laughing to the cafeteria. 

 

.

 

you wish:  you wished you were with him longer...

 

maybe things would be different...

Your fingers trembled as you pushed open the heavy morgue door. The sterile scent of disinfectant hit you first, it was nothing—could have ever prepared you for the scene in front of you.

Your eyes widened,

A single grey sheet, stained red with his body underneath it.

"Haibara..."

his name barely left your lips, barely sounded like your voice. It was foreign to you, looked at your hands, this wasn't real, it couldn't be real. You were trembling, shaking.

The sheet did nothing to hide his still bleeding wound. His body was bruised, cut deep, Blood dried at the corner of his mouth. His face—his face that was once always smiling at you, full of warmth—was cold, and lifeless.

You couldn't move, you were holding your breath,

No—no, stop please, stop please.

You felt warm tears staining your cheeks, "This was a local deity," a voice—someone's voice—echoed around you, it was Nanami. It left distant, like you were underwater, "A first-grade case..."

First grade, first grade..you fist up your palms.

Your vision blurred at his words, he was just a second year. A fucking, second year and they sent him, a mission meant for first grades.

They sent him—

Your first fist clenches tighter, nails digging into your palms. Your heart was beating, you felt something crack inside of you. You lifted your gaze, to see Geto standing over Haibara's body, 

"Nanami, I think you should get some rest," he said blankly, he stared down at the body, unmoving, unreadable. His face was eerily blank, you swallowed thickly, and you felt your throat burning.

You left your tears welling up, blurring your vision, 

No.

You clenched your jaw, biting down hard to stop the sob coming from your throat. You hated feeling helpless, you hated it, made you sick, SICK.

You forced yourself to blink rapidly, wiping your face with the sleeve of your uniform, trying to stop the tears before they fell.

Get a grip, y/n..this is pathetic.

Then you looked at Nanami who had a towel over his face, he was unmoving. His usual composure was shattered, his lip pressed into a thin line. 

He wasn't okay, 

"...Nanami"

 

⟡

you knew being a sorcerer meant people dying, but it hit you hard when it was haibara, that one of your friends, could just die.

it was like cold water that was poured on you, waking you up.

 then... 

Geto

the news hit you like a bullet to the skull,

"An investigation was run confirming that all 112 non-sorcerers in a village were killed by a cursed spirit, that was revealed to be the work of Suguru Geto's curse manipulation, 

he will be...

sentenced  to death.

you stared ahead, blankly, the words sinking into your skin like ice,

 what the hell was happening?

Gojo was pacing, his hands shoved into his pockets, his whole body tense like he was ready to punch something, "What the hell was he thinking—" he snapped,

"He would just—what> Wake up one day and decide to wipe out an entire fucking village.."

You barely heard him, you felt a hollow, sinking feeling in your stomach.

The air felt heavier than before, like you were truly underwater.

You wanted to call bullshit—wanted to believe that this was some sick mistake understanding, some horrible misunderstanding, but then..you remembered the strange way he was acting, the dark circles under his eyes, the way he had been changing for months now, after that mission...

"His home was empty, that's what yaga-sensei said"

You swallowed, your throat dry,

Did that mean..no—you felt your stomach churned.

 

Gojo kept on ranting, your mind was already somewhere else,

his home was empty, and that meant his parents—family—were gone. He killed them—a violent chill ran through you.

"Y/N," Gojo's voice cut through the noise, snapping you back. You looked at him, eyes wide and unfocused,

"Say something—anything"

He was equally distraught as you. You opened your mouth, and nothing came out of you.

what was there to say, there was nothing.

you didn't want to believe, the guy you trained with, teased you, smiled with, protected—he would never...he wouldn't do this.

You felt tears welling up, making your vision blurry,

he wouldn't do that...

 

⟡

 

Chapter 20: 𝐝runken kiss

Summary:

UPDATE, NOT A BACKSTORY, BUT MORE Y/N AND OTHER CHARACTERS!!

۶ৎ

The rooftop was silent.

The kind of silence that made your thoughts louder, that made the weight in your chest sink deeper, pressing against your ribs like something tangible. The city lights stretched endlessly before you, flickering in the distance, but they felt a million miles away.

You took another sip from the bottle in your hand, the alcohol burning down your throat. It wasn't doing much—not enough, at least.

Not enough to erase the way Haibara's smile used to reach his eyes.
Not enough to make the words about Geto feel any less real.

112 people—innocent lives...

The words spun around in your mind, tightening around your thoughts like barbed wire.

You exhaled sharply, bringing the bottle back to your lips. The rooftop breeze swept through your hair, cool against your skin, but it didn't do much to clear the haze in your mind.

You didn't know how long you had been sitting there, staring up at the stars like they had answers when footsteps broke the silence behind you.

You didn't turn around.

Didn't need to.

"Satoru"

He didn't say anything at first, but you could hear the shuffle of his shoes against the concrete and the way he hesitated before stepping closer.

"Drinking alone?" he finally spoke, voice quieter than usual.

You let out a soft, humorless laugh. "You gonna scold me for it?"

Gojo sighed, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him drop down beside you, his long legs stretching out in front of him. He didn't answer, and for a moment, the two of you just sat there. The silence stretched between you—not uncomfortable, but heavy, filled with things neither of you wanted to say out loud.

After a beat, you offered him the bottle without looking at him.

He took it.

A slow sip, a sharp inhale, and then a quiet, "Shit, that's strong."

You huffed, tilting your head back, eyes tracing the stars. "Not strong enough."

Gojo didn't say anything to that. Just hummed slightly, taking another drink before handing the bottle back to you.

You sat there like that for a while. Passing the bottle back and forth, the air between you filled with nothing but the distant sounds of the city below.

Then, quietly, almost too quiet, you muttered, 

"Did you ever think we'd end up like this?"

Gojo didn't answer right away.

And when he did, his voice was quieter than before. 

"No."

You turned your head slightly, finally looking at him.

His glasses were gone, his hair slightly messier than usual, and there was something in his expression that made your chest tighten.

Grief.

Regret.

Something else, something unreadable.

Your eyes flickered down to his lips before you could stop yourself.

You should've pulled back. 

Should've laughed it off, should've said something stupid to break the moment.

But you didn't.

And neither did he.

You didn't know who moved first, but before you could think, his lips were on yours.

Soft. Warm. A little desperate.

His lips were warm against yours.

For a second, you let yourself sink into it—into the way his hand ghosted over your jaw, the way he tasted like alcohol and something faintly sweet beneath it. It was grounding and dizzying all at once, like stepping off the edge of something without knowing where you'd land.

But then, the weight of reality crashed down.

Your breath hitched, and you pulled back, your fingers pressing lightly against his chest as you put space between you. Your lips still tingled, the ghost of his touch lingering like an echo.

Gojo didn't move, didn't say anything. Just stared at you, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, his expression unreadable.

Your mind raced.

What the hell just happened?

You swallowed, blinking rapidly as if that would somehow make sense of it all. The grief, the alcohol, the exhaustion—it had to be all of it, twisting things, making you act without thinking.

You licked your lips, the taste of him still there.

"I—" You started, then stopped, exhaling sharply.

Gojo was still watching you, his bright eyes a little hazy, a little heavy, like he was processing just as much as you were.

The air between you felt different now—charged, uncertain.

Finally, you let out a breath, rubbing your temple. "That was..." You trailed off, searching for the right word.

Gojo tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching up, but there was something strained about it. "Unexpected?"

You huffed a soft laugh, though it barely had any real amusement in it. "Yeah."

A beat of silence.

Then, his voice, quieter than before. "You regret it?"

You hesitated.

Did you?

Your fingers curled slightly against your sweatpants, your throat tightening.

"It's not about regret," you murmured. "It's just..." You trailed off again, struggling to find the words.

Gojo didn't push. Just nodded slightly, leaning back on his palms, eyes flickering up to the night sky. "Yeah."

Another stretch of silence.

The weight of everything still pressed against you, but the moment had passed—whatever that moment was.

You glanced at him again, and this time, he looked less like the Gojo you had always known. Less cocky, less untouchable.

Just a guy. A guy who had lost too much, too fast.

Like you.

You sighed, picking up the bottle again and taking another slow sip.

"Let's just... not talk about it," you muttered, passing it to him.

Gojo took it without a word, tipping his head back and drinking.

And just like that, the silence settled between you again.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, barely touching, breathing the same air, your heart pounding against your ribs.

"I'm going to bed," you murmured, voice hoarse.

Gojo hesitated for a second before nodding. 

You pushed yourself up, your legs unsteady, your mind still spinning. The alcohol wasn't helping, and neither was the weight pressing against your chest.

Gojo stayed where he was, watching as you turned toward the stairwell.

He didn't stop you. 

Didn't even say another word.

 ✦

You walked through the dimly lit hallways of Jujutsu High, the world around you swaying just slightly. The buzz in your head was still strong, numbing everything just enough that you felt like you were floating. Your fingers brushed against the cool walls as you stumbled forward, the weight in your chest pressing harder with every step.

Your mind was a mess—Geto, Yu, Gojo, that kiss. It was all colliding in your head, tangled up with the alcohol, making it hard to think. You didn't want to think. You just wanted to sleep. To forget, even if only for a few hours.

But of course, the universe had other plans.

You turned the corner too fast, your shoulder colliding into something solid.

"Shit," you mumbled, stumbling back a step.

A hand caught your wrist before you could completely lose your balance. A strong grip, steady and unwavering. Even through the fog in your head, you knew exactly who it was before you looked up.

Nanami.

His sharp gaze swept over you, and even through your haze, you could feel the disapproval radiating off of him.

"You're drunk." It wasn't a question. Just a flat statement of fact.

You groaned, tugging your wrist from his grasp. "No shit, Sherlock."

Nanami sighed, his expression unreadable. His brows furrowed slightly, eyes narrowing as he took in your disheveled state—the loose way you were standing, the way your eyes were slightly unfocused.

"You shouldn't be wandering around like this," he said, voice steady. "Where's Gojo?"

The mention of his name sent a jolt through you. Your stomach twisted.

"Dunno," you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. "Probably still on the rooftop, being moody."

Nanami didn't react. He just let out a slow breath, crossing his arms over his chest. "You need to go to bed."

You snorted. "No shit."

There was a beat of silence before Nanami moved past you, his shoulder barely brushing against yours. "Come on," he muttered, walking ahead.

You blinked, frowning. "Huh?"

"I'll make sure you get to your dorm in one piece," he said without looking back. "Considering you can barely walk in a straight line."

You huffed but didn't argue, dragging your feet behind him. The thought of making it to your dorm alone seemed impossible with how your head was spinning.

The walk was quiet, save for the faint sound of your footsteps against the wooden floors. Every now and then, you swayed slightly, and Nanami would sigh but say nothing. He just slowed his pace, making sure you weren't too far behind.

When you finally reached your dorm, you fumbled for the doorknob, missing it twice before Nanami reached over and turned it for you.

"Thanks, mom," you muttered sarcastically, stepping inside.

Nanami didn't respond to the jab. He just watched you for a moment, his face unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he finally spoke.

"You should stop drinking yourself sick over him."

Your breath caught.

You knew exactly what he meant.

You turned to face him, something sharp twisting in your chest. "And what else am I supposed to do, Nanami?" you asked, voice quiet.

He held your gaze, his expression unreadable. "You grieve," he said simply. "And then you move forward."

You let out a bitter laugh. "That's what I'm doing...I just grieve differently"

Nanami didn't argue. He just nodded slightly before stepping back into the hallway.

"Get some rest."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in your doorway, still buzzed, still hollow.

You swallowed hard and closed the door behind you, leaning against it as the weight in your chest grew heavier.

You were so damn tired.

Without bothering to change, you stumbled toward your bed, collapsing onto the mattress. The room spun for a moment before settling, and you closed your eyes, hoping—praying—that sleep would come quickly.

But even through the alcohol, through the exhaustion, through everything...

 ✦

Chapter 21: 𝐓he talk

۶ৎ

 

 

Two weeks had passed.

Fourteen days of silence, of lying in bed staring at the ceiling, of dodging calls and ignoring knocks on your door. The weight in your chest hadn't lifted—it had settled, deep and unmoving, like a stone lodged in your ribs. The grief wasn't sharp anymore. It was dull, constant, seeping into every corner of your being.

You had barely left your room. The most you'd done was drag yourself to the bathroom, rinse your face, take slow sips of water that did nothing to wash away the bitterness in your throat. Sleep came in fits and bursts, and when it did, it was restless. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Geto's face, heard Haibara's laugh, felt the ghost of Gojo's lips against yours.

It was pathetic.

You knew that.

But you also didn't care.

The world outside kept spinning. Classes resumed, missions were assigned, and the rest of Jujutsu High continued as if nothing had happened. But you weren't ready to move forward. Not yet.

Then, the call came.

Your phone buzzed against the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a name you couldn't ignore.

Mom.

You let it ring twice before sighing, swiping to answer. 

"Hello." Your voice was hoarse, scratchy from days of disuse.

"Finally," your mother sighed on the other end. "I was beginning to think you'd fallen off the face of the earth."

You didn't respond to that, just rubbed at your temple, already exhausted by the conversation. "What do you need?"

There was a beat of silence. Then—

"I need you to get dressed and meet us for dinner."

Your brows furrowed. "Us?"

"Your father and I. We have something important to discuss."

That made you sit up a little. Your parents never called you out of the blue, never asked you to dinner unless it was for a reason.

"What's this about?"

"You'll find out when you get there."

That was never a good sign.

You wanted to say no. Wanted to sink back into the comfort of your room and let the world keep moving without you. But something in your mother's voice made you hesitate.

"...Where?"

She rattled off the name of an upscale restaurant in Tokyo—one you only went to for business meetings or celebrations.

Definitely not a good sign.

"Be there at seven," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And dress properly."

Before you could protest, the line went dead.

You exhaled sharply, dropping the phone onto the mattress beside you.

The first real outfit you put on in two weeks was one you hated.

You stood in front of your closet, fingers grazing over rows of clothes you hadn't touched in days. Silk, fitted dresses, delicate lace tops—all pieces of someone you hadn't felt like in a long time. You almost reached for a hoodie and sweatpants, just to be spiteful. Just to show up looking exactly how you felt—exhausted, empty.

But you knew better.

Your mother's voice echoed in your head: Dress properly.

That wasn't a suggestion—it was an order.

So, with a deep breath, you grabbed a dress. Something simple—black, long-sleeved, fitted but not suffocating, the hem stopping mid-thigh. It slipped on easily, hugging your body just enough. You ran your fingers through your hair, combing out the tangles, and swiped on a bit of lip gloss. No real effort. Just enough to pass.

 

 ✦

 

When you arrived, the valet barely spared you a glance before opening the door, offering a hand you ignored. Stepping onto the pavement, your eyes flicked to the entrance.

Exactly what you expected. Expensive. Sleek. Quiet. The kind of place your parents loved—where the price of a single dish could cover a month's rent.

You should've turned around. Should've gone back to your room, and let them have whatever stiff, formal conversation they wanted without you.

But you didn't.

You inhaled sharply and stepped inside.

The maître d' recognized your name instantly, leading you to a private dining room near the back. The moment you stepped through the doors, your parents were already seated, wine glasses in hand, perfectly composed.

"Finally," your mother murmured, barely glancing up from her glass. "We were beginning to think you wouldn't show."

You ignored that, slipping into the empty seat across from them. "What's this about?"

Your father set his glass down, folding his hands neatly on the table. "Straight to the point. That's good."

A waiter appeared, filling your glass with water, offering a menu you didn't bother touching. You weren't here to eat.

Your mother finally looked at you properly, eyes scanning over your face. "You look tired."

"No shit."

Your father shot you a sharp look. "Watch your tone."

You rolled your eyes, tapping your nails against the table, impatience curling in your stomach. "Can we skip the pleasantries? What do you want?"

A glance passed between them. Then, your father cleared his throat.

"There's been an arrangement made."

Your fingers stilled. "What?"

Your mother took a slow sip of wine, as if this was nothing more than casual conversation.

"An engagement."

A cold weight settled in your stomach.

You stared at them, lips parting slightly. "An engagement."

"Yes," your father confirmed smoothly. "We've agreed to a match with the Zen'in Clan."

The words hit like a slap.

You blinked. Once, twice. Your fingers curled into your palm, nails digging into your skin.

"The Zen'ins."

"Yes."

A slow, bitter laugh bubbled in your throat. "You can't be serious."

"We are."

You shook your head, pressing your fingers to your temple. "I—I don't—What the hell makes you think I'd ever agree to this?"

Your mother exhaled through her nose, already annoyed. "You're not thinking rationally."

"Rationally?" you repeated, voice rising. "You expect me to marry some stranger from the Zen'in Clan"

Your father's expression didn't waver. "This is not a request."

Your breath hitched.

Of course, it wasn't.

You weren't being asked. You were being told.

Your stomach twisted. The walls of the restaurant felt too close, the air too thick.

"Who?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

Your mother arched a brow. "What?"

"Who," you repeated, sharper now. "Who the hell am I supposed to be marrying?"

Your father sighed, like you were being difficult like this was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Then, he said the name.

"Naoya Zen'in."

"Okay.. am I supposed to be impressed?"

Your father gave you a level look. "Be serious Y/N, he's the heir to the Zenin clan"

"You expect me to marry him?"

"Yes."

You pushed back from the table, chair scraping against the floor as you stood.

"No."

Your mother sighed, setting her glass down. "You don't have a choice."

Your fingers trembled, rage burning under your skin. "The hell I don't."

Your father's voice dropped, low and firm. "Sit down."

You didn't.

You turned on your heel, heading for the exit, barely able to see past the haze of anger clouding your vision.

Your mother called after you. Your father's voice was low, threatening. But you didn't stop.

Didn't breathe until you were outside, the cool night air biting at your skin.

You gripped the railing near the entrance, chest rising and falling, heart hammering in your ribs.

this Naoya Zen'in guy,

Your supposive fiancé.

A bitter, broken laugh escaped your lips.

This was a nightmare.

You pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor as you stood.

Your mother's eyes flicked up, brows slightly raised. "Where do you think you're going?"

You didn't answer. You just turned, heading for the door, your legs moving before your mind could even process it.

"Sit back down," your father's voice came, sharp and low, like an order.

You ignored it.

"Don't be dramatic," your mother added, exasperation laced in her tone. "You haven't even heard the details."

Your fingers curled into fists as you kept walking, breath shallow, ears ringing.

"Don't walk away from us," your father warned, voice edged with authority.

But you did.

You stepped out of the private dining room, into the dimly lit restaurant, weaving through the tables, past murmured conversations and soft candlelight. The air felt too thick, the walls too close, your own heartbeat too loud.

Behind you, you heard your name—your mother's voice, clipped and firm, your father's tone dipping into something dangerous.

But you didn't stop.

Didn't look back.

Didn't breathe until you stepped outside, the cool night air hitting your skin like a slap.

Your hands found the railing near the entrance, gripping it tightly as your chest rose and fell, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Naoya Zen'in.

An arranged marriage.

Your whole life is decided for you.

A bitter, broken laugh slipped past your lips.

You didn't stop until you were outside, the cool night air hitting your skin, crisp and sharp against the heat burning under it.

You exhaled, long and slow, fingers already reaching into your pocket. A cigarette, lighting IP up quickly, practiced movements as you sparked the flame, bringing it to your lips.

The first inhale burned, but it steadied you.

Leaning against the railing, you tilted your head back, watching the smoke curl into the night sky. Your pulse was still hammering, your thoughts still tangled, but for now—for just a moment—you could breathe.

The distant hum of traffic filled the silence, the occasional honk breaking through the quiet. The city moved around you, indifferent, uncaring—just as it always had.

You took another drag, the taste acrid on your tongue, familiar in a way that settled something uneasy inside you.

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

You didn't know much about them, not really. Just whispers, rumors. An old, traditional family—one of the most powerful in the Jujutsu world. But powerful didn't mean good.

And Naoya?

You barely knew the name, let alone the man. But the look in your parents' eyes had been enough to tell you what kind of situation this was.

Not a request.

A demand.

The thought sent another wave of frustration burning through you, sharp and suffocating.

You exhaled smoke into the night air, rubbing your temple with your free hand.

Did it even matter what you wanted?

The answer was already clear.

A shiver ran down your spine, though the night wasn't cold.

You should go home.

Should go back inside and demand answers.

 

.

 

You flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath your heel before turning back toward the entrance.

The weight in your chest hadn't lessened, the frustration still curling hot beneath your skin, but you weren't the type to run—not really. If they wanted to throw you into something like this, they could at least say it to your face.

Stepping back inside, the warmth of the restaurant pressed against your skin, clashing against the cold lingering on your fingertips. The maître d' glanced at you, surprised but saying nothing as you moved past him, weaving through the dimly lit dining area, back toward the private room.

The door was still slightly ajar.

Your parents were exactly as you left them—seated, composed, untouched glasses of wine before them. They didn't look surprised to see you return. If anything, they looked like they had expected it.

You stepped forward, standing at the head of the table, looking between them.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"When?"

Your voice was steady, sharper than before, cutting through the air like glass.

Your father set his glass down. "When you graduate from Jujutsu High."

Your stomach twisted.

So soon.

You clenched your jaw. "And what if I say no?"

Your mother sighed, finally looking up, eyes sharp but patient—like she was speaking to a child who simply didn't understand. "You won't."

A bitter laugh slipped past your lips. "You don't know that."

"We do," your father interjected smoothly. "Because this is not about what you want."

Something in you snapped at that.

You slammed your hands down on the table, the sound reverberating through the quiet space.

"Then what is it about?" You leaned forward, eyes burning into his. "Money? Power? Selling me off to the highest bidder?"

Your mother's lips thinned. "Don't be dramatic."

Your breath left you in a sharp exhale, a hollow, humorless sound.

"Dramatic?" You shook your head. "You just told me I'm being forced into an engagement with a stranger from a clan I know nothing about, and you think I'm being dramatic?"

Your father's gaze was unmoving. "It's already been decided."

A heavy silence settled between you.

Your nails pressed into your palms, the urge to scream, to throw something, clawing at your throat.

But instead, you inhaled, slow and deep.

And exhaled just the same.

"You can't make me marry him."

Your father studied you for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, neatly folded piece of paper. He placed it on the table between you.

You hesitated before reaching for it, unfolding it carefully.

Your stomach dropped.

It wasn't a contract.

It was a record.

Of every financial tie you had to them.

Every deposit. Every expense. Every bill they had covered.

Your father's voice was calm when he spoke.

"You are free to refuse. But understand—if you do, you will no longer be our daughter."

Your breath caught.

Cold. Sharp. Final.

The weight of their words settled like lead in your chest.

Your mother's voice was softer, but no less cutting. 

"Make the right choice."

Your fingers trembled slightly as you set the paper back down.

You stared at them, disbelief curdling into something ugly in your stomach.

For a moment, the world around you blurred—your vision tunneling in on the two people who had raised you, who had smiled at you, tucked you in at night, told you they loved you.

And yet, here they were.

Cool. Composed. Unmoved.

Selling you off like it was just another business deal.

A hollow laugh bubbled in your throat, but it never made it past your lips. Instead, you just shook your head, staring down at the paper in front of you—every financial tie they had over you, every string that had been pulled tight around your neck without you even realizing it.

They had never done anything out of love.

They had been setting you up for this from the beginning.

The warmth of childhood memories—the birthdays, the gentle reassurances, the times they had cradled your face and told you everything would be okay—felt like a cruel joke now.

You looked up, meeting their eyes.

Your mother barely looked affected, sipping her wine like this was just another evening. Your father's gaze was steady, unwavering like he had already made peace with this decision long ago.

Your whole life, they had been buttering you up.

Just to sell you off in the end.

The realization was a slow, seeping kind of pain, creeping into your bones, settling somewhere deep inside you.

"You—" You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "You really don't care, do you?"

Your mother's expression didn't change. "Don't be dramatic."

"All that time, taking me out of regular school to go to Jujustu High, just for me to train and then sell me off.."

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. 

Her eyes flicked up to you, her lips pursed like she was just barely holding back a sigh.

Your father was the one to speak next, voice level. "You're old enough to understand how the world works."

Your jaw tightened. "And how's that?"

"Family comes first. Duty comes first."

A bitter scoff left you. "And me?"

Neither of them answered.

And in that silence, everything became clear.

You weren't their daughter. Not in the way that mattered.

You were an asset. A bargaining chip. A pawn they had been grooming for this moment, for this deal, for whatever alliance they thought this marriage would bring.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, anger simmering beneath your skin, hot and suffocating.

You could scream. You could break something. You could burn this entire fucking restaurant down, and they still wouldn't care.

So instead, you exhaled slowly.

And stepped back.

"You know what?" Your voice was eerily calm, even to your own ears. "I don't even know why I'm surprised."

Your father's expression didn't change. "Then don't be."

They had been preparing you for this your whole life. Buttering you up, pretending to be doting parents, only to shove you off the moment it became convenient.

The laugh that bubbled up in your throat was hollow, humorless.

You shook your head, exhaling sharply before letting the laugh slip past your lips—sharp, bitter, biting.

Your mother's brows pinched, just slightly. Your father's expression remained impassive as if your reaction had already been accounted for.

"Fine," you finally said, the word dripping with exhaustion rather than agreement. "Whatever."

Your mother tilted her head. "Is that you being reasonable?"

Another laugh. 

"Sure," you murmured, you plopped down onto your seat, leaning back and stretching your arms out over the back of the chair like this was just another casual dinner conversation. 

"Let's call it that."

Your father eyed you,

You could tell they didn't quite trust how easily you had folded.

It was done, 

over...

 

 ✦

 

Chapter 22: 𝐒eal

 

۶ৎ

 

Months passed by, and you were back sitting alone, arm wrapped around yourself, staring at the ground like it held all the answers you'd never wanted, 

you hated this, you hated when you got the call from your parents.

The weight of everything was so crushing—Haibara, Geto, the sheer emptiness that followed it all, like the world was moving but you weren't with it. You heard footsteps approaching you, slow but deliberate. You didn't need to look up to know it was...

Gojo,

Gojo stepped in front of you, hands shoved eep into his pockets, his usual carefree demeanor was there, "You've been sitting here like forever, y/n," he muttered, his voice lacking its usual teasing lilt.

You didn't respond to him right away, your fingers gripping your sleeves tightly, then you opened your mouth.

"After graduation... I'm getting married" you said softly, then after there was silence,

"The fuck did you just say?"

You exhaled sharply, the corner of your lips twitching—like maybe you'd laugh, but it wasn't your reality, nothing was funny anymore.

"To the zen'in clan" you finished, you knew how he would react to that already. Your voice was void of any emotion, "It's been already decided"

Gojo's whole stiffened, "Are you joking?"

You shook your head, finally looking at him. You have been crying, his jaw clenching, his hands twitching at his side like he was holding himself back, 

"They can't just do that," he snapped, his voice rising. "It's not the fucking Feudal Era, Y/N—what, they're just going to hand you off like some deal they made behind your back" You just stared at him,

His breath came out sharp, his sunglasses, sliding down just enough to see the raw anger in his azure-blue.  You just looked at him, "What am I supposed to do, Satoru?" you finally said his first name, you only really said it when things get serious, and this was—serious.

"run.." he whispered, you just let out a dry laugh, shaking your head,

"And go where?"

"I'll help.." gojo's voice was firm, unwavering.

You sighed, he was serious—of course, he was...he is Satoru Gojo, he meant what he said—especially with you.

You exhaled, your gaze dropping to the floor, "And then what?" your voice came out quiet, almost defeated.

"Where do I go? What do I do"

Gojo scoffed, shifting so he was able to fully face you, "Anywhere but with them, you don't have to this—"

"Yes I do.." you clenched your first, your nails digging into your palms. "You don't get it, Satoru..this isn't about what I want—never had been" you whispered.

His lips parted slightly like he wanted to argue back, spark something in you. He just stared at you with frustration,

"Alright been decided..." you sighed,

"Fuck that.." Gojo snapped again, "You think you don't have a choice, you always do.."

You didn't answer him, you were tired. You were tired of fighting a battle you couldn't win. Tired of pretending you had some fairytale ending waiting for you, you turned your head, to look at him one last time, your eyes dull, 

"Not this time.."

And then you stood up, taking steps away from him, as you turned away, ready to leave this conversation. You heard Gojo's voice cut through the air—sharp, maybe almost desperate...

"You're Y/N L/N..where's that spark, huh?"

You froze, your hands clenching at your sides, you didn't want to turn, you couldn't, you felt fucking helpless, you hated it.

"Guess it burned out.." you murmured, your voice hollow as you walked away from him, 

 

⟡

 

 

The room felt different, not just because of your half-packed suitcase on the bed or the empty shelves that once held scattered trinkets—you felt different.

Utahime was sitting on the edge of your bed, her eyes studying you carefully. You saying much, just moving like a robot, methodically, folding clothes, tucking things away, like this was just another task to check off a list, but that wasn't you.

You were used to being full of energy, always joking, always talking a lot, always smiling and grinning.  

now you were just blank—like a fire burnt out.

"You don't have to do this, you know" she finally said, her voice soft but firm.

You hesitated, pausing for a brief second before shoving a shirt into the suitcase, "Not up to me, Utahime" you said softly, that made Utahime frown.

"Since when do you accept things? You always have something to say even if you are dead wrong"

You let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "I guess I finally learned to shut up," you said, before continuing to pack your things.

Your words made Utahime's chest tighten, something really shifted in you like gojo said—she really doesn't listen to trust him, but in this situation he was right. It is like something sealed your spirit,

She stood abruptly, "No that totally fucking bullshit," she snapped, her frustration breaking through, "You're acting like this is just life, like you're just moving a job or something" 

You were taken aback by her cursing, you exhaled not meeting her gaze, "What do you want me to do, Hime?"

Utahime's fist clenched at her sides, "Be you, the Y/N, I knew wouldn't go down without a fight at all"

A beat of silence moved, and then you finally looked there, something was hollow about you.

"Maybe that Y/N died" you blankly said, as you continued folding.

Utahime was shocked, just staring at your moving from, 

 

⟡

 

 

You were standing at the entrance, the hum of the car engine filled the quiet air as you waited. A suitcase by your side like you were here on your first day of Jujustu High when you transfer, you want to cry.

nostalgic,

all the years here, been reduced into a single moment.

the sleek black car, pulling up its presence, looming, a reminder that your life was no longer in your hands anymore. You reached out for the door handle, you heard it—footsteps against the pavement.

"Y/N!"

Your breath hitched slightly, you turned just in time to see Nanami sprinting towards you, his usually composed demeanor shattered. His uniform was out of place, his breathing was ragged, like he's been running,

He skidded to a stop in front of you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, "Are you really leaving.." his voice was sharp, but his eyes—were sad.

"I guess so Nanamin.."

His jaw tightened, "You don't have to—"

"I do," you cut him off softly, your fingers curling around the handle of your suitcase, "Take care of yourself, alright.." you said,

Nanami swallowed hard, his fists clenching at his sides, 

"Y/N—"

but you were already stepping into the car when the driver took your suitcase and put it into the truck of the car. The vehicle pulled away, and you looked out of the window to see Nanami standing there, watching you— his expression was unreadable. The sight of the school you have been attending leaves your vision,  

 

you hated this

 

Chapter 23: 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Summary:

yayyy, act two starts nowwww

⟡

 

 

ACT ONE COMPLETE

 

loading...

 

ACT TWO

 

 

> start

 

 

 

⟡

Chapter 24: 𝐦arriage

 

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

It felt like your life was changing in front of you, getting into that black car, your things in the trunk and your body sitting as the driver starts the car.

your eyes looking at the shifting jujutsu school, as the car moved with it.

 

but now you could only heard the ceremonial drums that echoing through your ears, echoing through the grand hall, each beat settling into your chest, like a warning. The soft candlelight flickering against the silk-draped walls, casting a long shadow that swayed in the breeze, filtering through the traditional shoji doors.

The smell of incense filled your nostrils, it was thick, suffocating you.

You were sitting motionless, wrapped in pristine white silk of shiromuku, it wasn't heavy but it felt suffocating, with the pristine fabric wrapped around your body, felt heavy on your shoulders. The tsunokakushi veiling most of your face, 

—a symbol of pure obedience, and humility, felt foreign to be this once unstoppable force, now sitting here, quiet, and awaiting your sentence, felt like a sentence.

Your hands resting in your lap, clenching together beneath the layers of fabric, your e/c eyes set in front of you.

The man you were going to marry, right beside you as you sat besides him. You didn't even know his name properly, or even talk to him—wasn't fair. You only knew he was a zen'in, that all that mattered to your family, 

The officiant's voice droning on, speaking of unity, duty, and honor—bullshit, 

none of that belonged to you, 

Your gaze was still on the floor, focusing on the polished wooden floors beneath you, grounding yourself, in anything that wasn't this moment. The weight of all of it pressing against your ribs, harder than any punch that aimed at you.

Then there were three sake cups, in front of you both, as an officiant pours the sake into the cups, 

a binding ceremony,

you looked at the cups like it was sort of curse, across from you, you saw the man shifting slightly, watching. His gaze on you now, expectant—maybe amused at your suffering.

With a slow, steady breath you exhaled, before taking hold of the cup and lifting it up to your painted lips, taking sips of it.

The sake burned as it slid down your throat, and worse...

—you liked sake but not this one.

 

.

 

You shifted your gaze to see the man beside you, staring at him. He was sitting with ease, draped in a formal montsuki, and hakama, his posture was relaxed—oddly enough. At least he wasn't old, that is something you thank your parents for,

He had blonde hair with dark green roots, and brown eyes, which made him an effortless charm to him.

you only met him now, but he was unsettling to you—something that tells you something was wrong with him.  His lips quirked into a faint smirk as he caught your gaze, 

 

Zen'in Naoya, 

that the guy you were going to marry.

 

The ceremony concluded with a final bow,

it felt like several doors were being closed on you, with a click.

You shifted your head, as applause echoed softly from all the elder, noble jujutsu sorcers. Your expression was neutral, you hated that everyone was looking at you—but you like attention but not this attention, with the pressure of everyone staring at you.

You were thrown off-guard with Naoya standing first, moving with effortless grace. 

'this guy' you stared at him, he didn't even offer a hand to help you,

'thought he would be a gentleman' you muttered. You just stood up by yourself, his head turning to you, a smirk playing on your lips as he watched you rise. 

 

You were side by side with this man, 

your maiden name gone, 

you were now

Y/N Zen'in

 

.

 

The reception was lavish, the hall draped in opulent red and gold, paper lanterns casting a warm glow over the gathered elite of the jujutsu world. The servants were moving with grace between the tables, pouring sake and serving elaborate dishes—but you weren't hungry.

you would have a big appetite, but you didn't feel like it,

"Not hungry?"

a voice snaps you out of your thoughts, turning to your now-husband. His voice was smoother than you expected,

"I guess—I don't have much of an appetite" you replied, keeping your tone indifferent.

Naoya just chuckled under his breath, making you shiver. He was swirling the sake of in his cup,

"You'll get used to it"

You hated how he said it like there was something to hide

"I suppose I don't have a choice, huh.." you muttered to yourself. Naoya leaned in slightly, his smirk still on his lips,

"Glad, you know—you don't"

Your fingers twitched at your side—it was so tempting to burn this place to the ground.

You still sitting at the long banquet table, still stiff in your kimono, you were surrounded by the loud, boisterous voices overlapping each other, as they drank—drank and drank, you wouldn't mind a cup of sake or beer—you really needed it.

And your husband Naoya—sat beside you, lazily swirling the sake in his cup.

He looked good, annoyingly good—you got to get a better look at him now. His blonde hair was perfectly styled, and the sharpness of his jawless and his high cheekbones only added to his aristocratic feature—his ceremonial robes were crips, and perfectly fitted for his well-built frame. 

"Your scowling, wife" 

You felt your eyes twitching, "Thought you would have more personality than this, you were quiet as a mouse"

'this guy' you felt your temperature rising, your fingers curling against the fabric of your kimono, staring at him, "Would you prefer I put on a show?"

He smirked again, tilting his head in slight amusement, "A little fire wouldn't hurt, wouldn't want people thinking my little wife is dull'

—fucking bastard,

"Don't worry they'll find out soon enough" You took a twig back of the sake, you stopped carrying, it didn't matter they were already drunk already. You looked at the cup like it offended—it tasted disgusting,

Before he could retort, a loud laugh interrupted the moment,

There was an old guy, who was laughing—you guessed to be another jujutsu sorcerer,

The guy was already deep into his drinks, a large ceramic sake bottle in his hand, and a half-empty cup in his other hand. His eyes were similar to Naoya's—don't tell me this is going to be your father-in-law.

You groaned, his eyes locked on you.

'Naobito Zen'in'

this guy is the head of the clan —what the heck.

He let out a hearty laugh, as he looked at you. Taking another swig from the ceramic bottle, before wiping his mouth, his lips curling into a knowing grin.

"Gotta say," he started, his voice was thick amusement, "I'm glad we bought you"

Silence—what.

You froze, and you felt your fingers twitching slightly, itching to do something—wiping that smug expression off that guy's face would have been nice, you just smiled, giving him the dirtiest side-eye imaginable, 

"Bought me?" you echoed—the shock wasn't even a word to describe, how you felt—you were fucking bought...

Naoya snorted, clearly entertained, "Don't get all sensitive now—you should be honored—must have had something good in your past life" he mused,

You exhaled through your nose, you wanted to flip this whole table, 

"Wow.." you said, "What—a charming family I married into," you said, it was obviously sarcastic  coming off you, 

Naobito let out a wheezing chuckle, slamming his empty cup onto the table, "You've got spirit," he mused, wiping his mouth, "That's good—you'll need it"

You felt your jaw tightening, but you said nothing—spirit..that what they call stubbornness in the face of being sold off like a fucking prize?

While Naoya, sitting beside you, let out a snicker, sipping his drink with a bored expression. "Try not to cry, wife," he murmured under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Oh—alright, you were totally pissed, 

You swallowed down the contents of the sake cup that the servant gave you, letting the disgusting alcohol burn down your throat,

"Since we're being honest," you began, setting the cup down with a clink,

"How much did I cost, I'm curious," you said,

Naobito let out another laugh, clearly enjoying your anger, "Priceless—" he said, grinning, 

"Your investment"

You resisted the  urge to roll your eyes to the back of your skull

 

⟡

 

Everything was eventually over,  the room smelled like incense, a mixture of sandalwood and something floral—pleasant but heavy, like something to lull you into submission. 

 

You were sitting before a grand mirror, your reflection staring back at you. The silk of your bridal robes pooled around your ankles, and the smooth, and delicate fabric was off you, making you feel better. The servant behind you worked with meticulous care, her finger deftly undoing the elaborate hairstyle you worn. You h/c cascading down your back.

She didn't say anything to you, you swallowed at the silent environment.

 

She helped into robes, something silky, and expensive under your fingertips.  It was draped over your shoulders, effortlessly, but even as the fabric embraced you.

 

Your eyes drift back to the mirror. The woman in front of you, looking back at you—it wasn't you, it was some type of black mirror episode. The girl who used to laugh loudly, fight fiercely, and walk with an unshakeable presence.

where did you go?

The maid adjusted the collar of your robe, smoothing it down with delicate fingers before stepping back.

Then you were alone, the incense curled into the air. Every detail around you screamed in detail, and wealth—prestige, shouldn't you be happy?

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself, but the moment creeping closer.

You clenched the fabric of your robes, 

Then—the door slid open...again.

 

You looked in the mirror, your fingers twitching as you stared at your reflection, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

Naoya...

He stepped forward, the candlelight casting a sharp shadow across his face. They was so much arrogance in his stance, the casual confidence in the way he carried himself—and you had been married to him for less than 6 hours.

His eyes roamed all over you—before his lips curled into a smirk.

"Well," he drawled,

 

"aren't you a sight.."

 

Your throat tightening, 

He started moving closer to you, his steps slow, calculated. You could smell the scent of sake lingering on him, though he seemed sober to your eyes.

"You've been feisty all day" he murmured, his tone holding some amusement.

 

You didn't respond to him, didn't trust yourself to.

Naoya was close to you, tilting his head to examine you. Then he reached forward, you felt his finger brushing on the edge of your sleeve,

"Dont," you said sharply, your voice cutting through the heavy silence,

 

Naoya paused for a moment, an amused smirk never leaving his face, "Oh? Now that's more—I like it" he drawled, 

 

You turned your head, staring at him. Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears, "You don't get to touch me just because of some stupid ceremony.." you bit out.

Naoya just chuckled lowly, his smirk never faltering. He leaned in slightly, the weight of his presence bearing down on you, "You're my wife now, Y/N..You think you can just glare at me and make me stop?" His tone was taunting you, his brown eyes glinted in them.

You felt your stomach twisting, 

you weren't going to give it to him just like that.

 

Naoya just stared at you, didn't move closer to you, just watching you.

 

"You don't fucking own me"

Naoya just laughed at your face, "Oh, Y/N..." he murmured, his voice was smooth but was so condescending to you, "That's cute"

Then—without warning he reached out for you again— this time, he wasn't slow with it.

 

You fell back with him on top of you.  Your breath hitched, as Naoya pinned you down, his grip was firm, bruising you. You tried to jerk your arm or moving, kicking, pulling away from him, but he didn't budge. 

"Get off me, you fucking creep" you snapped, trying to twist out of his grasp. It didn't work, you just started kicking him, aiming at his shin. It landed but he didn't flinch just chuckled at your reaction.

He clicked his tongue, looking at you. He was annoyed at you, more than anything, "Tsk—I thought I had a bride who would be tamed, hm" he muttered, his grip tightening.

You kicked him again, but the same thing happened. 

 

"Naoya—or whatever, let me go" you spat out, glaring at him. 

"Tch, you making this more difficult than it has to me—but I like a fight" he mused, completely unaffected by your struggle. You were trying to yank yourself free, but he was like some superhuman fucking bastard, his grip unwavering—

 

"Why are you even fighting.." Naoya said, his voice eerily calm now, "This what happens in marriage" he blankly said,

 

"THIS ISN'T A MARRIAGE, YOU SICK BASTARD" You yelled, you felt tears pricking up in your eyes, thrashing against him, and your heart was pounding violently in your chest. You were panicking, 

 

Then he exhaled sharply as if your resistance was starting to bore him, 

"If..you keep acting like this, you'll gonna just make things harder for yourself.."

 

it felt like everything just shifted your eyes, widening, feeling the cold wind hitting your skin, you were exposed in front of him. One of hand still pining your hands together, while the other ripping your robes open.

 

You wanted to cry,

 

"Oho, look at this.." he drawled, a sick smile on his face, you started sniffing, his eyes looking back at your desperate display,

 

"Your already crying—we didn't even get to the best part, wife"

 

Chapter 25: 𝐛roken

Summary:

a/n: warning, this part will involve non-con, this is a warning, if you can't read or can't stomach it, please don't read it—and don't forget to enjoy, so skip it when you see the chapter cut off with this symbol '⟡'.

 

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

You felt your vision blurring, it was all painful. Tears blurring your vision, your eyes flickering everywhere, then snapped at Naoya, who was already shirtless—how long was it, how long did you have to do this,

 

His grip was off your hands, his hands were on your thighs, which made you shiver with disgust. You were scared as he lined himself with you, 

you were dry, dry like the fucking desert, and he was thrusting into you, you felt more tears pricking up, as they ran down your cheeks.  You wanted to scream—you just wanted him to stop, just stop.

 

You were trapped beneath him, his hips snapping back into you. The sensation was burning, you felt yourself being stretched, being ripped from the inside out— "Please..stop" you whispered, you were already crying, your tears staining your cheeks, he didn't just ignore you, chasing his own pleasure.

 

it didn't make it better, you were arching your back from his constant bullying himself inside your cunt, and you were probably bleeding out—felt like it.

 

"—stop crying.. You're making me soft" he groans, his hands on your cheek, making you flinch immediately, he just looked a you before he snapped his hips back into you. He still kept on going, rolling his eyes at your display of stubbornness. You felt him shifting inside of you, his hands on the back of your thighs catching you off-guard, as he fucked back into you making your eyes widen. 

He continued thrusting into you, the pain was unbearable from the different position. Your vision still blurry from the tears, you felt you were being torn apart—worse than any other curse done to you. He was gripping onto your thighs like a vice,

He leaned closer to you, that stupid smirk on his face, his hot breath was on your face, making your skin just crawl. "Shit..you tight" he groaned, throwing his head back, his fingertips felt like there were burning into your skin as fucked into you. Your back arched, as he slammed into you again, and again. 

like a constant motion, 

 

each thrust was just stabbing into you, you felt you going to pass out from the pain. You stared at him, he was already in ecstasy because of you.

suddenly—he pulled out of you, you felt some hope then he flipped you onto your stomach, before grabbing your hips, his nails biting into your skin as he snapped his hips into you, making you scream.

Your screams were muffled by the ground beneath you, as he snapped back into you. You felt pain sizzling as he grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back as he continued to taunt you, fucking into you. Your neck was already strained under the pressure, like you going to snap,

"It's so much better you scream" he grinned, and you just stared at him.

 

Then he started to slow down his thrust, forcing you down. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending was screaming a you in protest as he continued to assault you, you felt weak and helpless.

You hated this,

 

he was so aggressive, his thrust was cutting into you, ripping you apart bit by bit, refusing to stop. Your vision was blurring again, you felt yourself becoming lightheaded, you going to pass out, if he kept on going,

you just wanted this stop, and you felt yourself slipping away...

 

you were a little conscious feeling him emptying himself into you with a groan coming from his lips. Then pulling out of you, leaving you there, alone.

You laid there—you didn't want to move. His brown eyes fixating on your laying form, he was amused. He just reached down and gently rubbed your cheek with his thumb, sending shivers down your spine, it wasn't loving or gentle, just mockery.

He continued doing this, his eyes never leaving you—like he staring at your soul,

you wanted to kill this bastard, you call a husband

"You should have just stopped fighting—wife."

The way he said it to, make it sound like it was a curse—might as well be one at this point. This was a living nightmare to you, you didn't say anything, and the silence was oppressive, heavy against you.

Then he pulled up his pants, standing up and leaving you there, and calling in some maids to clean you up.

 

 

 

⟡

 

 

 

 

"The matter of an heir is of the utmost importance"

 

you were sitting beside Naoya—that bastard, who was looking completely at ease, while you had your head down. He was leaning in the back of his seat, exuding an air of control. Across from you were elder of the Zen'in clan sitting in a row, their expression unreadable.

your fingers twitched in your lap at the words of one of the old geezers, talking—it was funny they were so close to just crumbling into dust.

the words made your skin crawl, you were just nothing more than a vessel for production. Your mind already detected from the conversation, like you were some outsiders as they talked about you around you.

"You have been an oddly quiet, girl" an elder spoke commenting on you, his sharp eyes locking onto you, you looked back at him.

"This is your duty now...surely—you under the responsibility placed upon you"

responsibility...

is that what is called now,

your lips parted, but no words came out. 

Naoya turned his head slightly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "She'll get used to it." he blankly said,

this was a cruel joke wasn't it, your hands clenching in your laps, knuckles going white. The air felt it was suffocating,

 

you wanted to scream, and you just nodded. Your expression was neural—but the elder seemed satisfied enough, to shift their attention back to Naoya, 

 

 

a year passed—and he did it again,

 

 

.

 

 

the room was suffocatingly quiet

 

You sat ridigly on the examination table, your fingers curling into the fabric of your robes as you were being examined by a private physician—an older man with thin-rimmed glasses and an unreadable expression.

you started feeling sick, you didn't know why you were getting sick. The vomiting and the nausea that took over your whole body—you just were out of it.

 

"Congratulations, Lady Zen'in..you are with child.." the man said with a smile, everything froze.

a child...

 

"No.." you whispered, barely audible. Your heart was pounding in your ears, the words were distant like you were underwater again, muffled, warped.

this was just a bad dream, you wanted to wake up—you wanted to wake up, wake up at your dorm at Jujustu High again, laughing with Haibara, Nanami—Utahime, Gojo, Geto,

No..

"Lady Zen'in?" the physician's voice pulled you back from your spiraling thoughts, "Shall I inform them?"

Your breath was caught, and you stared at him—unblinking.

 

 

the news spread wildfire,

 

 

they already know, the servants whispering, bowing down slightly lower to you as you walked, everything was so hollow.

the elders were back, their expression was still sharp as you were sitting on the cushion. Their gazes were sharp, watchful. As Naoya stood at the center of everything, his usual smug arrogance was heightened, his arms crossed.

you wanted to vomit,

 

"An child ..finally"

 

you barely heard the words, your ears were ringing, and your head was light.

"You should be pleased, your duty has been fulfilled—this what you meant for"

a duty

 

tch, you wanted to kill all of them,

you looked up at the elder, talking to you.

"Of course," you said, 

no celebration, no warmth.

'please..let this be a dream' you whispered.

 

 

Chapter 26: 𝐫un

Summary:

thank you guys for 377 hits!!
<3

۶ৎ

 

 

⟡

 

The sound of screaming echoed through the halls, and sweat was clinging to your skin. The candles flickering against the wooden walls, casting a shadow on you. The pain was tearing you apart, 

you gritted your teeth, clawing at the silk sheet beneath you, your hand sticking onto your forehead, pain pulsing in you. A sharp cry ripped from your throat, as you felt another contraction crashing in you making you yell, gasping for breath,

"Breathe, Lady Zen'in—you almost there" one of the midwives urged you, her voice was calm but you were still in pain,

almost there, bullshit—you wanted this baby, out of you 

—now

you didn't know what time it was, has been hours—a day, time was losing its meaning everything you pushed, the murmurs of the women assisting, their hushed voices blending into the pounding in your ear. You just focus on pressure, the unbearable strain on your body, 

"you have to push out now" another voice instructed, firm yet gentle.

you shouldn't be doing this, you should be doing something else, being a sorcerer on your own, enjoying your independence—you saw a glimpse of yourself maybe it was a different time, a different lifetime, a smirk on your face but now you pushing a human being out.

you shook your head, feeling one of the maids dapping the sweat on your forehead with a cold compass towel.  "I cant—" you wheezed out, before feeling another wave of pain through your body.

"My lady, you can, just a little more"

Tears burned in your eyes, as you clenched your jaw, summoning every ounce of strength in your body. You screamed, it was loud echoing through the halls. The pain peaking—blinding, all-consuming,

a sharp cry split the room,

your chest heaved, as you fell back against the pillow, your limbs trembling, mind foggy with exhaustion. The cries of a newborn filled your ears, it was loud.

"A boy" the midwife announced, you were too dazed to hear her, you just wanted to sleep. Your eyes flickering to the baby in the midwife's arms, your vision was still blurring settled on the tiny figure. Red, wrinkled face scrunched up as he cried. 

Your breath was shaky, 

"He's beautiful" one of the attendants murmured, you swallowed thickly, unable to speak. The midwife placed your son in your arms, as you stared at the baby that just came out of your body. 

The baby quiet down in your arms, making a soft noise against your skin. His tiny fingers curled slightly, resting against your skin as if seeking comfort. You swallowed thickly, 

You felt something inside you, before the shoji door slid open, the servants allowing someone in, your eyes flickered, 

You tense up instinctively, as he approaches. He said nothing, staring at you. You protectively held the baby to your chest, 

"Hmph, you did well" 

you didn't respond, looking away from him—your throat was dry, your body weak and yet, your mind was racing.

that all he said to the mother of his child,

"A son.." Naoya's gaze drifted to the baby in your arm, 

"Perfect"

you felt sick.

 

⟡

 

Two years had passed in total, you felt like you were losing yourself,

the days blurring together, a monotonous cycle of forced smiles and quiet suffocation. You were no longer a burning flame, but it was a flickering flame.

you sat by the shoji doors, staring at the zen'in estate's sprawling courtyard. Ichiro was sitting on your lap, his small fingers were curling around yours. His hair was blonde just like his father's, but his eyes were yours. Soft, warm, filled with innocence that feared wouldn't last because of him still being here.

he was the only thing that made you keep afloat—keeping you sane.

two years of this life—two years playing the role of a dutiful wife, a perfect zen'in woman. Two years keeping your head down, swallowing your words. But what made you pissed, is that the elder thoses old geezers kept on talking about having another child.

you weren't going to let that happen, you weren't going to have him touch you

ever again, 

every night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The feeling, the weight of your reality. This wasn't your life. Your finger gently brushed through Ichiro's blonde hair as he rested with you. He was the only thing that you had in this wretched place, he didn't belong to them

only you, 

you been thinking for some months,—leaving, running away. Disappearing before they force their control on him the way they did with you.

your eyes flickering to Ichiro, 

he was the only silver of hope within you.

 

..

 

 

The night was quiet, the kind of quiet that only existed in the dead hours.

the estate was asleep, unaware of the storm brewing within its walls. You moved quickly, cradling Ichiro close to your chest, his small body warm againist yours. He was sleeping in your arms.

Your heart pounded as you slipped through the halls, and your hands trembled with the grips of the straps of the bag that was in your hands, you only grabbed what was important and what you needed. You planned this for months maybe more than months, mapping every possible route, memorizing every guard's patrol pattern, 

if something happened, you'd just move them out of your way.

your fans in your hands, the main gate was in sight, just almost a little farther. 

"What do you think you're doing" You turned your head, stopping in your tracks. 

It was Naoya, just standing there a few feet away, arms crossed, his eyes sharp, piercing. He wasn't angry—not yet. His voice was eerily calm, almost amused, like you were a child caught sneaking out past curfew.

Your grip on Ichiro tightened—"I'm leaving jackass" you said, your voice was colder. 

His amusement faded, replaced with a darker experience,

"Leaving?" he echoed, stepping closer. "You think you can just walk out of here?—with my son?" your stomach twisted at his words.

"He's not just your son, naoya—now..fuck off" you flickered your fans out,

Naoya moved fast—a little too fast, before he could reach you, you flicked your wrist and swung them forward towards him.

'Vermillion winds'

a violent gust erupted from your fans, slashing through through the space between you and Naoya. The wind howled, the temperature increased, the red streak slicing through the air like fiery talons. His eyes widened as you stared at him, 

the force skidding him back, his sleeves tearing, blood splattering againist the courtyard floor, you watched him recover, 

you just turned and left, running

and running

 

.

 

The neon lights of Tokyo blurred in the cold night air, casting a soft flow on the wet pavement. The city buzzed around—the cars speeding by and the distant chatter of people heading home. The hums of signs flickering above quiet storefronts.

back in Tokyo, everything was different,

the blur of stolen nights and desperate footsteps, your heart hammering as you run a life that never belonged to you. You abandoned everything—your title, family name, and the suffocating weight of the zen'in clan. 

you didn't look back at all,

but two years passed—it was 2011, 

your days were filled with something simple. Mundane, even— you had a random job working at some seven-eleven, you were in stiff clad, uniform scanning the items one of the customers put on the counter of the register, you just hummed.

the same usually three songs that were trending,

it paid the bills, put food on the table—and kept you grounded in a life that was truly your own. It was funny you went from a life of luxury and being a wife of high-ranking sorcerers to now waking up at ungodly hours to deal with customers and stock shelves, but you liked this change.

The artificial humming of the convenience store light buzzed above you, casting everything in a dull, sterile glow. The scent of instant ramen, floor cleaner, and cigarette smoke from the customers that filtered in and out clung in the air. The register beeped monotonously, as you scanned another item,

"The total will be 1,300 yen"

The customer—a businessman with tired eyes and a loosened tie—mumbles thanks, handing you cash before taking the items that you already bagged, and giving it to him. The bell above the door jingled, and he exited, the sound barely cutting through to you.

you tapped your fingers againist the counter, staring at the block mounted on the wall. It was already getting late, 

'another three hours' you mumbled.

you stopped being a sorcerer, you still had eyes to spot curses, the pure —instincts, and Tokyo didn't change—just still crawling with curses.

Every now and then—, if one was slithering through the streets, preying on the unaware, you handle it. Not as a jujutsu sorcerer, not as someone following orders—just because you could. You swiftly flick your wrist, revealing your fan, a well-aimed strike killing the curse. 

and you felt better..lighter, like you were healing.

The scars didn't leave you, it wasn't like it was going to disappear overnight. You still had nightmares, still had a moment where you swore you heard his voice, felt his hand closing around your wrist, forcing you to wake up, heavy breathing. Your chest rising, but they started to become less frequent, the weight on your chest was growing smaller, and you had Ichiro, your little boy—the one thing that was good that came out of all of it.

he was your world and that little flame.

 You were walking down the pavement, your shoes hitting the ground. Blending into the background like you never existed in the world of jujutsu society, humming to yourself. Your aparment was just a few blocks away, 

you stopped—

your hands instinctively tensing at your side. The crowd around you was like parting from you, enough for you to turn around, your gaze landing on a familiar, white hair man peeking out under the streetlight, wearing a blindfold.

Your breath hitched, 

Satoru Gojo ,

"Yo.."

it seemed like he noticed you too, the city continued to move around you both. You exhaled into a small chuckle, and put your hand up.

waving your hand to him, 

"Hey.."

 

⟡

 

Chapter 27: 𝐧ew 𝐥ife

Summary:

updated yee

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

You never really would expect it, the wind blowing your hair as you stared at him. You were looked at him, in the flesh,

Satoru Gojo,

maybe tokyo was a small place for people like you. You practically spent years and time keeping your head low, working a normal job raising Ichiro, and pretending the world of sorcerers was a distant past,

you were different now, no longer a third year—no longer forced into marriage, 

And then—

"Yo.."

you blinked once, then twice, snapping out of your thoughts. He was still there, leaning againist the lamppost, arm crossed.  The sounds of neon lights around you humming with life, as the buzz of conversation and the distant honking of cars, rhythmic tapping from other people's shoes—

You sighed, 

"Hey.." 

He tilted his head, lifting the white blindfold, his eyes scanning you.

"You look good, different, but good" 

"Yeah well," you shrugged, "time does that" you said, Gojo just stared for a moment longer, then smirked, "So..you got out huh..?"

You looked at him, your experience carefully neutral, "You tell me," you replied dryly,

"Do  I look like  a zen'in wife to you?"

Gojo just let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, but still, I had to hear it from some random source—so you really ran, huh"

"I fucking hate that place" you mumbled, gripping your coat tighter,

His smirk faltered, into a serious expression at your words,

But you exhaled, "But..i'm here" you finished,

"Living the civilian dream?" He tilted his head, "Working some random job, pretending you don't see the curses crawling around the city?"

You swallowed the urge to roll you eyes at him, "What, you don't think i'm capable of having a normal life?"

"That's not what I meant"

'Huh' you blinked, looking at him.

Gojo sighed at you, rubbing the back of his neck, "You're still you—you can lie to yourself all you want Y/N, but I know you..you don't sit still?"

"I'm not a sorcerer anymore, Gojo" you said, blankily. 

"I have a kid to take care of"

Silence.

His whole demenaor shifted instantly at your words, his head tilted slightly, brows furrowing as his parted,

"Wait..what?"

You sighed, your hands in your pockets, "I have a kid.."

Gojo blinked, Once, then twice

"You" he pointed at you, "...have a kid?"

"Yes, that exactly what I said"

You looked at him, he was genuinely stunned, it lowkey irked you a bit. His mouth opened, then close as if he was trying to process something,

then, he ran a hand through his hair, "Okay..Wow—you have a kid..Y/N L/N"

"Why are you so surprised" you felt a vein popping out of your head, twitching your eyes. 

'Why was he so shocked?' you thought, 

"Just..unexpected," he said,  his calm-free tone in his voice now.

"—But I'm serious, Y/N—come to Jujustu High, become a teacher or something, you'll do good"

You scoffed, "Why the hell would I do that?"

He shrugged, "Because you haven't really left this life—you're still killing curses. Still looking over your shoulder, and i know you—wouldn't ignore someone in trouble, even if it's risky" 

you frowned

"I'm not the same person, Satoru" you muttered,

"Maybe not" he said, "but doesn't mean you can't do something good with what you have. Besides teaching isn't that bad."

You narrowed your eyes, pointing at him, "You a menace, how the hell did they let you be a teacher?" 

He grinned, "Because I am the strongest" he said pointing to himself. You just stared at him, rolling your eyes at him. 

"I forgot how insufferable you are" 

"Admit it," he smirked, "you missed me"

You looked at him, then at the sky—you were weighing your options, "Sorry..but no" you said before turning,

"I'll pay you"

you blinked, before turning to him. He had that damn grin on his face, 

"...Excuse me?" you said,

"Come on," he teased, hands in his pocket. 

"How much money do I have to give you, so you'll come back"

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

If you were going to do this, you might as well get a free bonus.

"Now your talking" you smirked, 

"Now that Y/N, I have been looking for!" Gojo exclaimed trying to hug you, but you hit him on top of his head, 

"Heyy, was that necessary" he pouted, rubbing his head

"Yeah" 

you smiled, maybe you were back...

 

⟡

 

You were here for a total of six years, working in this school. You were just a side instructor, maybe a mentor if you wanted to be generous, an extra pair of eyes to watch the students. While you were here you met a lot of students who came into the school,

teaching them from scratch, helping them—it was a lot but you loved it.

but now you were walking with Satoru, "You could at least pretend to be happy to be here," Satoru teased, walking beside you with his hands in his pocket, you rolled your eyes stepping on the concrete with your heels, "I was happy until you you dragged me here" you said back,

"In my defense, I did offer you money" he grinned,

"Hm.." you waved your hand at him, making Satoru just laugh, 

 

but now you found looking at a bunch of teenagers in front of you.

three students in front of you, first-years.

You blinked at them, 

"Alright, guys" he clapped his hands together, 

"This is Y/N, one of your side instructors, so be nice" 

You just looked at them, "Ha, instructor? That's funny, I don't remember signing up for this" you said, 

One of the students—Maki zen'in, narrowed her eyes at you.

"Then why are you here?"

At that moment, your whole entire demeanor shifted, your expression was unreadable, and you took a slow step forwards towards her, your voice low and firm.

"Hey, you" you pointed at her, she blinked, stiffening.

You pointed to yourself, your voice unwavering, "You remember me?" you asked, the shift in energy made the air heavy—as your eyes were on here.

Panda's ears twitched, while Toge tensed up at the sudden shift. Gojo gave you a side glance, a smile still on his lips.

Maki's eyes narrowed slightly, she was staring at you analyzing you,—she knew you—but where?

Then, just as fast as it came it vanished—your lips curved into a wide, playful grin. 

"I'm your ex-cousin-in-law~" you sing-songed, clasping your hands with her.

The silence followed suit,

Maki's face immediately scrunched up, "What?" she said, her voice confused.

Gojo just laughed out,

You stretched your arms above your head, grinning. "Yep, I was married into that godforsaken clan for a few years, you know—so technically, we kinda, sorta related. Isn't that cute?" you mused.

Maki looked at you, she looked like she wanted to throw up.

"You married into the zen'in?" she deadpanned, looking almost disgusted.

"Not by choice," you muttered, before smirking,

"But, hey—technically, that makes you my favorite ex-cousin, but I won't go easy on you" You put your hand under your chin, pondering.

Maki stared a you, clearly unimpressed.

"Hmm," you tapped your chin, "Y'know what..." you snapped, "I know, I'll give you a nickname"

Maki's eye twitched, "Don't.."

"Maki-moo—it sounds so cute, just like you" You smiled, and you heard Gojo's loud laughter echoing through the classroom. 

Toge let out a muffled snort,

Panda gave an approving nod, "I like that one!"

Maki was staring daggers at you, "Don't call me that"

You just grinned at her, resting your chin on your palm, "Aww, don't be mad, maki-moo" 

"I SAID DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

Gojo wiped a fake tear from his eye, "Oh, that's the old Y/N I love!!"

You winked, "Admit—you're all lucky to have me" You flipped your fan open,

Toge just had his thumbs up, "Salmon"

Panda was grinning, "I like her"

Maki was just sighing in frustration, "This is going to be hell"

 

.

 

The classroom was its usual—mess a few desks out of place, as you were lounging against the teacher's desk in the front, one leg casually crossed over the other, spinning a pen between your fingers, bored as hell while Gojo approached the front of the room with a damn grin on his face,

'Hm..' you looked up, 

"Alright, everyone," he clapped his hands together, "There is someone I want to introduce, he's really special" he exclaimed, you looked at his display, curious what he was planning.

Nobody said anything, just looking at him for a moment then doing their usual thing,

"Huh, everyone—get excited!" Gojo exclaimed,

Maki scoffed, adjusting her glasses, "I heard he's an awfully sour one.."  you turned your attention to her. 

"I'm not going to create the mood for someone like that"

"Salmon"

Gojo sighed like they all were just killing his vibe, "Oh, well—come on in!"

your gaze shifted to the shoji door,  

what—it was like the moment he stepped in something changed, like there was some type of weird aura surrounding the classroom, you stared at the boy who just stepped in. You turned your head to see Panda, Maki, and Toge already on high alert. Something about him made your instincts go off,

'Who the hell was  this guy' 

He stepped into the front of the classroom, right beside you.

"I'm Okkotsu Yut—" 

BOOM!

There were already there, maki's spear embedded into the chalkboard, deeply. The new kid was already more nervous. Flinching so hard you almost felt bad for him, he was surrounded by kids just glaring at him, ready to attack.

"What is this? Some kinda test?" Maki said, looking forward at the kid.

Yuta looked completely overwhelmed,

You looked at the kid, he looked tall, skinny, and a total nervous wreck. Wasn't even five seconds and he was already being attacked,

"Hey.." you drawled, as you watched him squirm.

Maki ignored you, "You're cursed—this is a place to learn curse, not a place for the cursed."

Yuta looked scared, 

— Then Gojo started talking,

"The number of people that die mysterious death or go missing in Japan is over ten thousand on average. Most of those are casualties of curses born from the negative emotions of people..among them are also malicious cases caused by curse users—only curses can affect others"

You sighed, already bored of his speech,

"—This where we learn curses to exorcise curses, Tokyo Jujustu High School—isn't that right Y/N"

"When is my next paycheck" you blankly said, 

He chuckled at your comment, "Oh— you all should back away quickly.."

Sudden something was coming out of the chalkboard, huge hands grabbing onto Maki's curse weapon that was lodged in the board. A huge, white, grotesque hand burst out, 

"Do not.."

the voice echoed unnaturally, warped heavily,

your gaze flickered to Yuta, who was horrified, 

'Is this kind of curse technique?'

"Wait! Rika-chan!"

"...bully Yuta"

'Are you kidding' you deadpanned at the sight,

 

.

 

"This is the boy cursed by Rika-chan, who just loves him...Okkotsu Yuta-kun, be nice to him, everyone!"

Gojo exclaimed,  throwing his hands dramatically, motioning toward Yuta like he was presenting a game show prize. You looked at the group of young sorcerers, who got their asses handed to them, and you just laughed, earning a glare from Maki.

Being the amazing side instructor you were, you helped them patch

with your super cute bandaids, of course.

You gave Toge a seaweed one, maki got a pink sakura petal, and panda? He got a cute panda one, 

"Aww, don't look at me like that" you grinned, sticking a bandaid on her cheek, "They're cute, just like you, maki-moo!" you exclaimed, and she just glared at you.

"If you attack Yuta, rika-chan's curse will activate...or not—either way, be careful..everyone"

"say that sooner" Maki muttered, she was totally pissed off at Gojo. You stepped back admiring your work, closing the little medkit box you had in your head,

"These guys are being all rebellious, so I'll introduce them quickly"

You watched on as Gojo introduced him to them, while you leaned back against the desk.

"—And our side instructor, Y/N," He said, pointing at you

"—she's really nice" Gojo whispered to him, as you glared at him.

Yuta looked extremely overwhelmed,

"Yuta, right?—" 

 He blinked at you,

 "Why do you look like you're going to piss yourself," You asked bluntly, staring at him.

Yuta sputtered, turning red, 

you smirked,

"Is it because you're in the presence of a very beautiful woman" you mused, flipping your hair over your shoulder. 

Silence,

Yuta looked even more nervous, 

Panda nodded sagely, "She's not wrong"

Maki sighed deeply, "I hate it here.."

Toge gave a thumbs-up, "Rice balls"

Gojo grinned, "See? You're in good hands, Yuta!"

"Okay, now since there are four first-years!" Gojo said, 

"For your afternoon jujutsu practice, you'll be in pairs of two" Gojo stuck a peace sign, empathizing two,

"Toge, Panda, pair up"

"Maki, Yuta, pair up"

You wanted to laugh again at Maki's shocked expression when she got paired up with Yuta, it was all just hilarious to you.

 

Chapter 28: 𝐨ne

Summary:

Updated, yes! thank you guys for reading this, and getting to 525 hits, 26 kudos and bookmarks!!! i'm really happy you guys are enjoying this. Also I would love to read your guys opinions or enjoyment of this story in the comment, but I hope you enjoy.

Also chapters will be coming out slower due to the school!

 

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You were sitting lazily on a random wooden crate, one-legged crossed as you sipping on a juice, looking ahead of you as the student kept on sparring. Your designer sunglasses were perching on your nose, while Gojo was standing nearby, whistling as he watched the students go at it.

Maki was lunging at Yuta with her cursed weapon in hand, 

You pointed at him "Elbows in, Maki-moo. You're leaving yourself open" you said, you watched as Maki was obviously annoyed by her nickname, "Stop calling me that" she yelled out, before striking Yuta again.

Your gaze shifted as Panda threw heavy punches toward Toge, who dodged in time, 

"Nice dodge, Salmon Boy! But next time hit him!" 

Tog just gave you a deadpan look,  "Seaweed"

"Okay~—Yuta" you called, waving your juice box in the air, "If you wanna survive, you probably shouldn't stand like a baby deer" 

Yuta, already panting heavily, looked at you before he dodged Maki's attacks again. Gojo snickered at his shocked expression on Yuta, "Maybe you should show him how it's done?"

You took off your glasses putting them on your head, 

"I'm not in the mood for beating teenagers up.." you muttered, looking over your shoulder to see Gojo, "Oho, are you getting soft"

He just knew how to press your button, you got up, your hands on your hips. 

"Hey," you called out, 

Panda stopped mid-fight, "Yeah?"

"Go ahead..hit me," you said, lifting your arms up, purposely leaving yourself open.

Everyone stopped, Maki and Toge looked toward you and Panda, confused about what you were doing. Yuta on the other hand was looking confused and mildly horrified.

Panda just cracked his knuckles, grinning. "Alright, Y/N sensei..don't cry when I—" 

Boom!

Before he could even blink, you were already blinding him, a single slap to the back of his head, sending him flying a good ten feet forward, sending him down face-down in the dirt. Panda groaned, 

Maki was taking-aback, whistling, "Damn.."

Yuta's jaw dropped,

Gojo, on the other hand, was just beaming. "See? She's very helpful!"

You smirked, sipping the rest of your juice box, "Any questions?"

You stretched your arms out dramatically, before stepping and plopping yourself back onto the crate, completely unbothered. 

Maki huffed, cracking her knuckles, "Remind me never listen to Gojo again.." 

Toge nodded, muttering, "Bonito.."

Yuta, meanwhile was trembling holding onto his weapon. He looked shocked—you on the other hand were just smirking, leaning back and putting back your sunglasses, humming.

"Alright, back to sparring" you waved dismissively, "Maki, stop telegraphing your moves. Toge quit hesitating, and Yuta..." you looked at him, as he tensed up at you—i mean who wouldn't be scared after you launched panda ten feet over.

"Try not to die"

Gojo snorted, "You're such a good role model.."

"Naturally" you grinned, "It's why I get paid so well" You smiled,

"I pay you well"

"And yet, I still don't get paid enough," you mused, sipping the last drop of your juice box. Gojo just laughed, the smirk on his face never leaving.

Maki, just looked at still shocked, stretching her arms, "How the hell are you even an instructor.." 

You just grinned, crossing one leg over the other, "Easy, I'm hot, strong, and incredibly overqualified" you said, pointing to your finger as you explained,

Yuta swallowed hard, Oh god, I'm gonna die here.

Panda finally got up from the ground, shaking the dirt of his fur, "You all suck..."

You just chuckled at him. "Aw, Panda—don't be mad. You almost got me.."

"No, I didn't"

"Exactly"

You kicked your feet up, "Now, keep on sparring" you exclaimed, with a clap.

 

⟡

 

The afternoon sun was dipping lower, casting golden streaks across the school grounds, you were tired though you were doing nothing. Stretching your arms above your head, feeling the satisfying crack of your joints. The day was going to be over, you were ready to go home.

You were grabbing your bag and started to make your way toward the school's exit, the warm breeze playing with your hair. The faint sounds of sparring still echoed behind you, but your mind was somewhere else,

Your heels echoed through the hallways as opened the door—barely making it a few steps outside.

"Huh? Already leaving?"

You turned your head over your shoulder, seeing Gojo standing near you, his hands on his hips, pouting like a damn child. His blindfold was still covering his eyes, 

"You wound me, Y/N" he sighed dramatically, clutching his chest. "You don't wanna hang out? Get dinner? Maybe have a heart-to-heart about how much you missed me—"

"I see you every day" you deadpanned at him, waving him off, rolling your eyes. "Tempting offer, but I actually have real responsibilities."

He gasped, offended, "Are you saying I don't?"

You just smiled, "You said, not me" you turned around walking, but Gojo was already right next to you. He huffed, crossing his arms, "So, where are you running off to?"

You adjusted your bag strap in your hand, and shot a sideways glance,  

"Picking up Ichiro.." 

His pout disappeared, "Oho?" he tilted his head, his interest piqued, "So, that's why you're always leaving early, huh?"

"Mm-hmm" you hummed, turning back toward the path, "Not all of us, can spend our evening watching kids get their asses beat and annoying them too"

"I don't annoy people," Gojo grinned, falling into a step beside you, "I annoy you, big difference"

You scoffed, didn't argue..

"So," he continued, "how is the little guy, anyway?"

"He's good"

"Man, that kid is getting too big...I remember when he was a little nugget" Gojo let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with a smile.

"And now he's a little menace, thanks to all the bad habits he got to you"

Gojo gasped, "Me?! Y/N, please, I am a fantastic role model."

"You taught him how to cheat at rock-paper-scissors."

"Tactical thinking!"

You just gave him a stare, "Also teaching him how to disappear whenever it's time for chores.."

"Again—tactical thinking"

"Tactical thinking my ass" you muttered, rolling your eyes. But you couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Ichiro adored Gojo, probably more than you. he always got excited when that idiot dropped by, and as much as you didn't want to admit it, Gojo was good with him—really good.

Gojo just stretched his arms behind his head, whistling, "Y'know, I could tag along, say hi to my favorite little guy"

"You sound like a total grandpa" you muttered, 

"Hey, hey, rude, I'm an honorary uncle, okay? It's my duty to check in on my little troublemaker" 

You sighed, knowing you could change his mind, "Fine, but don't sneak him candy before dinner this time" you muttered,

"No promises~," he sang, flashing a grin.

' This idiot'

 

.

 

The drive home was peaceful, the golden hues of the afternoon sun stretching across the city skyline. You hummed to the radio, some random some that was trending. Hands on the wheel, as you drove, 

—then the song changed, 

' I just wanna get your attention..'

You looked at your rear-view mirror, seeing Gojo's head immediately turned towards the speaker, and his grin stretched wide. 

"Ohh—this is my jam," he announced, reaching to increase the volume without hesitation, you just groaned, "Of course, you would like this song," you scoffed, but you didn't stop him. You won't lie this was catchy, the bass kicking in—Gojo leaned back in his seat, nodding his head to the beat.

' I really wanna be all up your head '

You rolled your eyes, but you were tapping your fingers subtly on the steering wheel. Gojo glanced at you, noticing the movement, and smirked.

"Oh? Ohhh, you feelin' it, huh?"

"Shut up," you muttered,

Gojo just laughed before he turned toward the window, lowering his sunglasses and fully embracing the song, 

"But, girl, that's only if you ain't scared, baby~"  he sang, you side-eye him, groaning.

"Oh my god—stop." 

Gojo just turned to you, feigning offense. "Excuse me? I'll have you know my vocals are immaculate!" he exclaimed,

"Yeah, immaculately trash" you retorted,

He gasped, clutching his chest, "That's crazy coming from you—because I distinctly remember you loving my singing back in the day"

You scoffed, "Yeah, well, I also used to wear denim-on-denim unironically"

Gojo let out a loud laugh, kicking his feet up on the dashboard, earning him a swift smack on the leg from you.

'Is you say, Daddy's home, home for me—'

You were getting into it, tapping your fingers along to the beat, "Ohhh, now you're feelin' it" Gojo pointed a you accusingly, you just shot him a glare but smirked,

"Shut up, Gojo"

He was still singing, way too passionately. While you were just nodding to the beat—just nostalgia and music. You turned onto another street, looking around at the familiar surroundings that was close to Ichiro's school.

You pulled into the parking lot of his school, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow over the pavement. There were still kids lingering outside the school, chatting with their friends or waiting for their parents. Your eyes flickered to Ichiro walking towards your car,

"Ichiro, honey—I'm here" you yelled out, waving your hand,

The ten-year-old messy hair, but sharp kid groaned out. His blonde was grown out, with his e/c eyes looking at you, he cringed at your loud call. He picked up his pace—but not before noticing Gojo in the passenger seat. His expression immediately morphed into disbelief,

"What?—why is Gojo in my car?" Ichiro asked, Gojo then turned his head lazily, lifting his blindfold, and looking at Ichiro. "Hm,  I must've missed the part where you started paying for gas, kid"

Ichiro just yanked the door open and climbed in. "I help my mom with groceries, if that counts"

You just chuckled, pulling out of the parking lot, "Damn, Ichiro—your really claiming partial ownership" you exclaimed,

Gojo shot Ichiro a smirk, "Don't tell me you're already sick of your mom,"

Ichiro scoffed, shaking his head, "Never.."

Gojo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he had been stabbed. "What about me? I thought we were besties" Gojo whined,

"Eh," Ichiro shrugged, "You're alright"

You just laughed at Ichiro's comment, gojo turns to you like you just personally betrayed him, "Wow, you really raised him like this?"

"Hm, and it's paying off!" you laughed some more, flicking on the radio as Ichiro started rambling about his day—something about how he quote on quote dusted his classmate in a race, how his friend lost and had to wear sock with sandal—disgusting, and how he got detention for talking too much in class.

"Tch," Gojo scoffed, shaking his head, "Talking too much builds character"

"Exactly!" Ichiro exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

"No," you interjected, side-eyeing him through the mirror—"you talking too much is why you almost got detention" 

Ichiro just grinned like you weren't making a valid point.

then the song clicked back on, and Gojo perked back up immediately, 

Ichiro just groaned, sinking into his seat, "Please..no more old people music"

"OLD PEOPLE MUSIC?!"

 

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Chapter 29: rika

Summary:

Hey guys, I updated yeeee, sorry updates will get slower but i'll try to get them out. Also thank you 717 hits and 34 kudos and the bookmarks. i'M SO HAPPY YALL LIKE THIS TOOO!!!

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The car screeched to a halt in front of the elementary school, where Maki and Yuta were given a mission. The tires skidded slightly against the pavement, and before Gojo could even throw it into the park, you were already shoving the door open and bolting out,

You felt something was off, as your instincts were screaming before your eyes even registered the scene. All you know they had a mission here, and they were first-years—and you didn't like sending the first years out, though they have to, I mean it was part of the curriculum. Your eyes flickered to bodies—unmoving, students, 

Maki.

Yuta.

The faint hum of lingering cursed energy still crackling in the air,

"Oh, hell no—"

You sprinted to the front of the gate, where they were there, your heart was hammering against your chest before you crouched down to examine them, "They exerted themselves too much" you mumbled, you were beside Maki's passed-out form, 

"Maki-moo" You tapped her cheek, then shook her lightly, but nothing. You felt your stomach twisted,

Your eyes flickering on Yuta, 

"Yuta?" you muttered, pressing two fingers to his neck. His pulse was steady, but his breathing was—shallow, but even.

You heard the car door slamming shut behind you,

"Man, look at them," Gojo mused lazily, stretching as he strolled up, "They really went all out, huh?"

Your head snapped up, eyes glaring at him, "Gojo, I swear to—"

"Relax, relax" he waved you off, as you narrowed your eyes at him. His tone, while teasing had a trace of approval,

"They did well,"

You looked over your shoulder at him, nodding, "They did" you agreed, turning your head back to look for injuries,

Cuts, bruises, and some light burns. No broken bones—at least, none that you could see or immediately feel. They were just exhausted, completely drained.

"It's part of the experience," Gojo continued, his hands stuffed in his pocket as he rocked back in his heels with that stupid white blindfold. You swore you could kill him right now,

"Experience or not, I'm not leaving like this, they need to go to a hospital or something" you muttered, as you kept on examing them, forcing yourself to focus.

He just chuckled behind you, "Mommy mode activated, huh?"

You shot him a glare, "Oh shut up and help me" you said,

Gojo just dramatically sighed, crouching down and effortlessly scooping Maki up, "It just an adorable how much you care for them" 

"Oh shut up, you're acting like you wouldn't do the same" You rolled your eyes. shifting to Yuta, carefully adjusting his weight as you lift him into your arms. He was surprisingly light, his head lolled against your shoulder, his messy dark hair tickling your neck,

"Poor, kid" you frowned, brushing some of the dirt on his face,

Gojo followed, his stupid grin on his face, "You know if you ever wanna babysit—"

"Shut up, Satoru"

 

 

.

 

The hallway outside the hospital rooms was quiet, save for the distant beeping of heart monitors and the occasional shuffle of passing nurses. The fluorescent lights cast a cold glow over the otherwise dim corridor, highlighting the exhaustion on your face.

"They say both Maki kids will be fine," you said, sitting down beside Yuta, he managed to wake up which surprised you a bit. Looking back at the scene it looked like the curse wasn't an easy one to beat. You glanced at the back of the closed door that led into Maki's room, your mind still replaying the scene of their battered bodies sprawled outside the elementary school gate.

Yuta was sitting beside you, his posture hunched forward, his elbow resting on his knees. "That's a relief,"  Yuta said lowly, looking down, his eyes looking at his finger with a silver ring on his finger,

"You don't look very relieved," Gojo said, leaning back against the wall.

Yuta hesitated before speaking, "I did it.." he finally admitted, his voice low " I managed to call Rika-chan out myself for the first time"

"Hm.." you hummed at the new information, you turned your head to see Yuta, still staring a his finger with the silver ring,

"Really? That's a step forward" Gojo chimed,

Then Yuta seemed to be in a trance, you snapped your fingers in his face, "Hey..what are you thinking about?" you looked at him, as he shook his head, staring right back at you. He was anxious again, 

Your snapping looked to wake him up from the trance he was in, his head snapping up, as he blinked rapidly. His lips parted before he let out a quiet sigh.

"Yeah… I was just remembering something." His grip on the ring tightened further, his fingers curling inward. "I’m starting to think that Rika didn’t curse me after all."

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his tone, as you cocked your head to the side in curiosity. 

"I think I might have been the one that cursed Rika" He announced,

The words hung heavy in the air, sinking into the silence between the

"You very well maybe right, there is no curse more twisted than love," Gojo said, his words may have shifted an emotion in Yuta, as your eyes flickered to the sniffling teenager beside you, and you glared at Gojo, you felt bad for this kid. 

You didn't want to see him cry, 

"Alright..while I'm at jujutsu high—there's something I want to learn..I want to break Rika's curse" Yuta said, his hands around his fist that was wearing the ring, as he had a look of determination on his face.

'so determined' you were mostly in awe of the teenager, 

"Hm..that sounds like a good idea" you smiled, 

Gojo tilted his head, he was still leaning off the wall, "Breaking Rika's curse, huh?" He said, stretching his arms above his head leaning off the walls, and letting his arms drop lazily by his sides, "That's not exactly an easy thing to do,"

You sighed, resting your chin on your palm as you studied Yuta. The kid was so damn determined, you were impressed. The weight probably pressed on his shoulders, his fist was clenching, his knuckles turning white as he held onto that ring.

You flickered your eyes away, "It's not easy, but not impossible either" You chimed in, your voice softer than usual. "You've already made progress, I mean you already summoned Rika on your own... that's pretty huge, Yuta" You exclaimed. It made Yuta look up at you, his lips parting slightly, as he wasn't expecting the encouragement from you.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I know so" You nodded. "I mean, look at you. A few months ago, you were scared of your own shadows. Now you're holding your own ground, and making choices for yourself" You said, nudging his shoulder playfully, "It's growth, Yuta" you smiled.

It seemed like his shoulders relaxed slightly, and he let out a breath that he was holding in.

Gojo grinned, shoving his hand into his pockets, "Yup! You're officially a work in progress, Okkotsu. Keep it up, and you might just become someone even stronger than me."

Yuta blinked, "That...seems unlikely.." he mumbled,

You let out a laugh, shaking your head, 

 

.

 

 

The hospital sounds were still echoing through your ears, the blending muffled voices of passing nurses and the faint scent of antiseptics. You didn't like the weird stillness of being in a hospital, its like time moved slower inside the walls.

You tilted your head up at the ceiling, 

'There is no curse more twisted than love' you thought of Gojo's words, they were just replacing in your head, for once, you actually agreed with him. Love could turn into something unrecognizable—something suffocating, painful. The type of pain that is still with you, you can get rid of or cut off. It just latches onto you and won't let you go.

You shifted your gaze, blinking at the fluorescent lights.

How many times were going to convince yourself that you weren't trapped in your own past, all the decisions you had taken to make sure all ties were cut, and no loose ends,

It is like being haunted by someone, living with the ghost of someone you once loved—your hands curled slightly against your lap, but you shook on the feeling, you were overthinking—thinking too much wasn't good for you.

You just breathed out, turning your head to Yuta, who hadn't moved yet,

"You know, you're allowed to feel like shit," you finally muttered, your voice softer than before, "No one's expecting you to have all answers right now.." 

Yuta blinked, turning his head toward you, surprised at your sudden words escaping your lips.

You gave a small smile, "But if you want to break Rika's curse, you have to keep moving forward.."

He swallowed, his jaw tightening before he nodded, "I know.."

You exhaled through your nose, resting your elbow on your knee. You weren't sure if you were talking to him or yourself. 

 

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The hospital halls were quieter now, the usual hum of activity dying out as the day turned into night. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above you, casting an artificial glow over the dim space. Your eyes glance at the clock—past ten.

it was late.

Yuta dozed off in his chair, his hands still loosely curled around his silver ring. You watched him for a moment, his breathing slow and steady, before exhaling out.

You stood up, stretching your legs, "Alright, I'm heading out" you said as you rolled your shoulders. Gojo, who had somehow been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, tilted his at you.

"Already? You're not gonna stay and hold his hand?"

You shot him a look, "He's asleep, dumbass" you shot back,

"Still, you're leaving a student behind so soon? Tsk, Tsk. I expected more from you, Y/N"

You rolled your eyes, stepping past him towards the exit, "You staying?"

"Nah," He grinned, following behind you, "I'm your ride, remember?" 

You almost groaned when he said those words, fuck—you forgot.

but the drive back was mostly quiet, the streetlights casting a long shadow over the roads as the city wound down for the night. Your elbow rested against the car door, your chin propped in your palm as you watched the blur building passing you.

Gojo, for once was quiet—he wasn't running his mouth. The radio was on low, some pop songs playing softly through the speakers. You weren't paying attention to the song—your mind was already too full.

Hospitals always left you feeling this way, which you didn't like at all.

Not because of the place, but what it reminded you of. Just the ache of loss, helplessness, pain—people seemed so fragile in those bad, hooked up to machines, barely holding on. It was a place for birth and death,

You didn't like being left with your thoughts.

"What is going on in that pretty head of yours" 

You blinked, turning your head to Gojo, who hadn't taken his eyes off the road.

"Shut up.." you mumbled,

He hummed, drumming his fingers against the wheel. "Let me guess—you're overthinking about something and making yourself miserable?"

You scowled at him, how the hell did he—you know you didn't care, you bit your lip. "Don't analyze me" you muttered,

"It's what I do, sweetheart," he teased, flashing a grin.

"But you do this a lot, you know? You get all quiet, and then boom—you're in that moody head of yours.."

You didn't answer him, just sighing. Your focus is back on the window. The annoying party, he wasn't wrong. The drive stretched on with the weight of your thoughts pressing against you like some type of heavyweight. Then you saw your apartment, as Gojo pulled up in front of your apartment complex. The streets were mostly empty, a few cars parked along the curbs, the neon glow from a nearby convenience store flickering onto the pavement.

"Want me to walk you up?"

You turned to Gojo, unbuckling your seatbelt, "Like I'm some damsel in distress" 

"Maybe" he smirked, "I can—carry you princess-style if you want"

You shoved his face away with a laugh, "Goodnight, Gojo"

You grabbed your bag and got out of the car. The cool night air blowing at your face, shutting the door behind you. Looking at the apartment window, the soft hum of the city filled the silence—distant traffic, and a couple of voices somewhere down the street. 

You hated nights like this, you just sighed.

Walking up the stairs, and finally making your way inside, unlocking the door, and stepping into the dark apartment. The moment you shut the door behind you, leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

You just kicked off your shoes, dropping your bag onto the couch before heading into the kitchen. You didn't feel hungry, just pouring yourself a glass of water and drinking it whole. Staring at the fridge, the feeling in your chest was still there.

Yuta's words kept on repeating in your head, 

'I think I might have been the one that cursed Rika'

it was that look on his face—like guilt.

You knew it too well, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips, "No curse more twisted than love, huh?"

You ran a hand down your face, setting the glass down on the counter. You needed sleep, and you groaned. Just have your brain shut off before you start spiraling into thoughts, you couldn't pull yourself out of.

You walk into the hallways, peering into Ichiro's room, he was long asleep. You pressed your palms, the dim glow of his nightlight casting soft shadows across his figure, his blanket was half-kicked off as he always did as he slept.

You stepped closer, leaning against the doorframe, as you watched him peacefully breathing. His face was relaxed, his chest rising and falling steadily. His blonde hair was messy, sticking out in different directions. You could see the familiar, growing features in him, it reminded of—you just need sleep,

huh,

but was it really the best thing for him, you crossed your arms. You left, got away from that awful place, giving him a home, a life outside that place they call a family.

You just went to bed, lying down. You closed your eyes but sleep never came to you, the weight on your chest wouldn't let you rest.

the mere fact is that how much distance you put between yourself and zen'in clan between you and Naoya, you knew the truth. Ichiro was still his son and that blood still ran through his veins,

blood is thicker than water, huh...

You were terrified, not at Ichiro—he was a sweet kid, sharp but kind, stubborn but thoughtful. Wasn't anything like him, but what if...

he came back for him, they came back for him.

but if Ichiro starts questioning, starts to wonder about the family he has,

would he hate you for keeping them away, would he resent you?

You felt warm tears staining your cheeks, you didn't even notice you were crying. Your breathing is heavy, clenching your jaw. The familiar sitting feeling already creeping up your throat.

You covered your mouth with your palm, shoulders trembling as you tried to keep quiet, you couldn't for the tears to come out, you sobbing at this point.

You didn't know why you were crying, 

no that's a lie, you were just scared and exhausted, you don't want the only thing holding you down to hate you one day, or Naoya to find him.

You sucked in another shaky breath, pressing your fingers against your biceps, as you steady your breathing, 

no, Ichiro was here, he was happy and safe.

as long as he was alive, you couldn't let anyone take that away from him.

 

Chapter 30: lone

Summary:

Update, yeee. This one a little lengthly, but we are so close to the main battle!!

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

The morning lights flitering through your blinds, casting soft, golden streaks across the room. You blinked against the light that was directly on you. It made you groggy and disoriented. For a moment, you just lay there. Your body was still heavy with exhaustion. Your head throbbed faintly, a dull ache that reminded you of last night.

You sighed, rubbing your head over your face. You rubbed your eyes before pushing yourself off your bed, putting your feet in your slippers, as your body was moving on autopilot. The apartment was quiet, the outside sounds of cars and walking entering through the windows. You take your phone, check the time, 

it was early,

You stretched, your muscles stiff from sleeping in the same curled-up position for too long. Then you sighed—the first you wanted to check was Ichiro.

You opened your door, walked into the hallways, you peered in. Peeking inside, careful not to make any noise, he was still fast asleep, his small frame bundled up in his blankets, his chest rising and falling in steady, even breaths.

He looked so peaceful, you stepped back, you had to get ready. You turned on your heels, dragging yourself to the bathroom, and you flicked on the light with the light switch. You winced at the sudden brightness. Your eyes landed on the mirror, your reflection staring back at you. You just looked, taking in the dark circles that were under your eyes, the slight puffiness from last night's crying. 

You looked like shit, you just sighed again.

You turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto your face, waking you up slowly. The chill just did the right thing, shocking your system. You took your time to get ready—brushing your teeth, showers, and styling your hair.

You reached for your makeup bag, flipping it open and pulling out the essentials—foundation, concealer, brow pencil, mascara. 

You dabbed a little bit of concealer under your eyes, blending it out as it completely covered your dark circles. You filled your brows when with your mascara, brushing it through your lashes with each swipe of the wand. A little bit of blush, a touch of lips gloss.

You stepped back, tilting your head, examining your work.

it was decent.

You made your way to your closet, pulling the door open and scanning your options. Your fingers trailed over the hangers, debating as your fingers shifted around the hangers. You just decided to wear the normal jujutsu uniform, the bane of your existence.

but it wasn't like the one you wore 10 years ago, but it was just the black pants, and the zip up, so you just took a fitted white shirt. It wasn't bad, you pulled the outfit, adjusting the fabric. You just decide to wear a pair of black shoes. Then you moved into the kitchen, starting your coffee maker.

The smell of fresh coffee filled your apartment, it was warm and rich. It was comforting, grabbing one of the mugs from your cabinet, and pouring the coffee into the cups—and pouring some creamer and sugar into it, before mixing it. You held onto the mug, as it was between your hands. The heat from the mug transfers into your hands.

You just took a sip from it, 

—then that single moment of peace, and doubt comes rushing in.

You closed your eyes, exhaling slowly. You hated when your mind did this to you—pulling you back into some sort of spiral, making you question everything around you, every decision, every choice, every sacrifice.

You did your best, 

but—no.

it was good, you did good. You shook your head, setting your empty cup down on the counter. It was too early for this, you weren't going to do this again,

You tied your hair back, rolling up the sleeves of your uniform. You moved through the kitchen with a quiet efficiency, before tying an apron around your waist. It was the familiar routine of cooking, it was comforting and made the thoughts disappear. You opened the fridge, scanning for ingredients. Leftover rice, some grilled salmon, and a few fresh vegetables—jeez you need to go grocery shopping.

You took everything and placed them on the counter, it was good for making Ichiro's lunch. You warmed up the rice, then scooped it into the bento, pressing it lightly into a neat square shape, before sprinkling a bit of furikake on top.  Then slice the warm-up salmon, into bite-sized pieces and arrange them beside the rice. 

You put the pan onto the stove, pouring some oil on the pan. Then grabbing a bowl and cracking a couple of eggs into the bowls before whipping them pouring a little bit of soy sauce and mirin. The rhythmic motion of rolling the omelet calmed you down, making you focus.

You played the golden egg layers into the box, cutting them into a neat square before adding a few cherry tomatoes and cucumber slices on the side. Then you cut up the fruit—some sliced apple slices arranged into bunny shapes and put it into the small section. 

It looked good—delicious and made you happy. You looked at the clock, still on schedule. Packing everything up, you closed the lid before putting the bento into Ichiro's lunch bag and making sure to tuck in a pair of eating tools and a small note.

'have a good day, I love you' scribbled on the note, with a little smile. 

Then the sound of soft footsteps padding onto the kitchen that made you glance up. You looked at Ichiro who stood in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair was messy, sticking up in every direction. He blinked, he was still half-sleeping, before mumbling. 

"Morning"

A smile tugged at your lips, "Morning sweetie, go get ready for school" you said, before giving you a sleepy nod, shuffling into the hallways, as you turned back to the stove. There was still leftover rice you can warm up, then some of the eggs still in the bowl, and just need some miso paste and tofu for the soup for breakfast.

You cracked your knuckles, grabbed the paste from the fridge, and filled a small pot with water, setting the heat. Putting the paste and slicing some of the tofu into the pot.  Pouring the remaining beaten eggs in the bowl into the pan, scrambling it. 

Pouring the warm miso soup into two bowls, then plating the steamed, leftover rice and eggs. A few pickled vegetables on the side, it was simple but good.

By the time you turned, Ichiro returned dressed in his uniform, hair much neater. You walked to the table, setting the food in front of him, he plopped down in his chair, rubbing his eyes again before eating.

"Thanks, Mom"

The words were mumbled, but it made your chest tighten as you took off your apron before sitting down across from him, resting your chin in your palm as you watched him eat. He still had the same habits from when he was younger, picking the rice, then drinking the soup, still hesitating with the vegetables—but there will be a time.

You just sat there, watching and thinking,

He let out a small yawn, as he ate. "Aren't you hungry?" he asked, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"No, I ate already," you said smoothly, offering a small smile. Ichiro frowned slightly, looking unconvinced, "When?"

You exhaled through your nose, "Before you woke up" It wasn't a lie, coffee was some type of breakfast—right?

"Okay,"

Some silence passed, "I like your hair messier" You smiled, ruffling his hair with a smile, Ichiro just leaned away with a small scowl, swatting your hand away, "Stop that" he grumbled, but there wasn't any bite to it.

You just chuckled softly, 

 

✿

 

The morning air was crisp, as you stepped out of the car after dropping Ichiro off.  The city was already alive—cars honking, people rushing to work, students dragging their feet towards school. You sighed, rolling your shoulders before slipping on your glasses.

The transition from city to rural, as the drive of jujutsu high was quiet. You didn't turn on the radio, maybe it was the lack of sleep from the night before or maybe the weight sitting on your chest, Your fingers just tapped lightly against the steering wheels as you pulled towards the gates, parking in your usual spot. You stepped out of the car, and you felt the buzz of energy in the air, as the presence of sorcerers moved about.

You adjusted your bag over your shoulder, 

Before you start walking towards the main campus, the crunch of the gravel beneath your shoes grounded you in the present. The walk from the parking lot to the making rounds was long, it was ridiculous how far it was.

You adjusted the strap of your bag as your gaze flickered to the open campus, immediately catching the sight of the four familiar figures moving towards the track field. Toge, Panda, Maki, and Yuta—all heading in the same direction.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, training, hm?

"Hey, Y/N-sama!" he called out, his voice was cheerful.

You smirked at the little informality,

"Yo," you greeted back, shifting your bag over your shoulder as you closed the distance between them and the group.  "What are you guys doing so early" You said, 

Maki adjusted her glasses, glancing toward the track, "Training.."

You raised an eyebrow, "Voluntarily?"

Yuta just let out a small chuckle, "Huh, we just want to do something production today"

Toge gave a short nod, "Salmon"

"Right," you murmured, slipping your hands into your pockets. "Well, guess I'll come and watch. Make sure you don't slack off while the cat's away" 

 Panda grinned, "You gonna cheer us on?"

"Sure" you teased, "I'll cheer every single one of you still you guys collapse and—I'll make sure to clap"

Maki rolled her eyes, and Yuta just chuckled while Toge simply sighed. You shook your head, falling in step with them, and made their way to the track, it was a simple, nice routine, almost normal. 

A nice distraction. 

You sat next to Panda as he had the timer in his hand, watching Toge, Maki, and Yuta running around the track. The early morning sun cast a warm glow over the field, but the crisp breeze kept it from being too overbearing. The steady footsteps as Maki, Toge, and Yuta ran around the track for their 3rd lap, their footsteps pounding against the track field.

"They're keeping a good pace," you noted, watching Maki push ahead of Toge and Yuta. Panda hummed in agreement, "Maki's built differently. She's barely breaking a sweat"

"Obviously" you smirked, "I'd be disappointed if she wasn't wiping the floor with them.."

Yuta, who had been trailing just slightly behind, suddenly pushed forward, determination burning in his eyes. His movements were still a little unrefined—his stamina wasn't quite at Maki's level yet—but he was improving.

"Look at Yuta," Panda mused, you nodded.

"He's doing pretty good," you said, leaning back on your hands, gazing up at the clear blue sky. Your eyes flickered towards the entrance of the school, just for your eyes to see his ridiculous white hair, it was standing out more than usual. Even from a distance, Gojo Satoru was impossible to ignore.

You exhaled through your nose, bracing yourself for whatever chaos he was about to bring. He moved at his unhurried pace, his hands stuffed in his pockets, head tilted slightly downwards. Gojo lifted his head, his blindfold covering his eyes but you could tell he noticed you. He just gave you a lazy wave, but you rolled your eyes.

"What a pain in the ass, hm.." 

Panda, who had been watching the whole thing, chuckled. "You two have the weirdest dynamic,"

Before you could respond, a gust of wind rolled across the field, rustling the trees. You glanced back at the track, watching the students move—Maki maintaining her lead, Yuta pushing himself, and Toge right behind Maki, keeping a steady pace.

"Do you ever miss it?" Panda asked suddenly, glancing at you.

You blinked, turning your head towards him, "Miss what?"

"Being a student—training like this"

"Hell no, I rather not remember teenager Gojo ever" 

Panda just laughed, "I bet he was something else"

You nodded, "You have no idea" you smirked, shaking your head. "Besides, things were... different back then"

"How so?"

You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, "Just different time—different people, some of them aren't here anymore.."

Panda didn't push further, just giving you a slow nod. Then a comfortable silence settled between you two as you continued to watch the trio on the track. Maki, as expected, maintained her lead, but Yuta and Toge weren't far behind her. When they finally crossed the finish line, all three of them slowed to stop.

"Alright," Panda announced, checking the stopwatch. "Decent times!"

"Are you serious?" Yuta huffed, bending over with his hands on his knees. "I feel like I'm dying."

Toge flopped onto the ground, arms spread out as he stared up at the sky. "Salmon."

Maki was the only one who didn't look completely exhausted. She was breathing heavier than before but still standing tall, rolling her shoulders.

"You call that a warm-up?" she smirked, looking at the boys.

You chuckled from your seat. "Hey, at least you're not dead. That's an improvement."

"That's a low bar," Yuta muttered.

Maki stretched her arms behind her head, glancing over at you. "You just gonna sit there and watch, or are you actually gonna do something?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Come on," Maki challenged, smirking. "Show us if you've still got it."

Got it? you were gagged by the comment.

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Please, I don't need to prove anything."

"Oh?" Panda grinned. "Sounds like an excuse to me."

You rolled your eyes. "I am not about to go running laps like a high schooler, I did the requirements and I graduated."

"Scared you'll lose?" Maki teased.

You felt a tick mark on your forehead as you glared at Maki,

You exhaled through your nose, leveling her with a look. "I'd mop the floor with you."

"Then do it," she pressed.

You stared at her for a moment, weighing your options. You really weren't in the mood to exhaust yourself first thing in the morning, but the way Maki was grinning at you, so cocky, so sure of herself...

and maybe beating a teenager will get more amped up.

"Tch." You pushed yourself to your feet, stretching your arms over your head. "Fine. But don't cry when I leave you in the dust."

Panda whooped. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

Yuta, still catching his breath, just shook his head. "I'm just glad I don't have to run again."

You stepped onto the track beside Maki, rolling your shoulders. She glanced at you with a smirk, already cracking her neck in preparation.

"Hope you're ready, old lady," she taunted.

You gave her a pointed look. "OLD? I'M THRITY"

Maki just grinned. "Only if you can catch me."

Panda stood up, raising his arm. "Alright, on my mark!"

You took a deep breath, rolling your ankles, feeling the energy settle in your muscles. The last time you ran like this had been years ago—probably when you were still a student yourself, back when Yaga-sensei made you run when you did something annoying.  But hey, maybe this wasn't such a bad idea.

"Three... two... one—go!"

And just like that, you were off.

 

✿

 

You easily surged forward the moment Panda called it, your body moved on pure instinct. The wind whipped past you the familiar rhythm of your feet hitting the track bringing back old- memories—the nights training under Yaga-sensei, Geto's teasing remarks, and Gojo's relentless pestering,

Maki was fast, but you were faster. Experience, muscle memory, and sheer stubbornness pushed you forward, widening the gap between you two. She was younger, maybe stronger in some ways, but you had years of combat behind you, years of refining your body for efficiency.

By the time you crossed the finish line, she was a few steps behind, her breath coming fast, her face set in determination even as she skidded to a stop.

Panda let out a low whistle. "Damn. That wasn't even close."

Yuta blinked, still catching his breath. "How... how did you move that fast?"

Toge, still sprawled on the grass, just muttered, "Bonito flakes," which you took as agreement.

Maki scowled but didn't look too put off. If anything, she looked even more determined. "Tch. Next time, I'm beating you."

You smirked, placing a hand on your hip. "You can try, Maki-moo" you teased, she just glared at you.

Then you heard, slow, exaggerated clapping ringing out across the field.  Your eyes snapped towards the source, already feeling the irritation spike. And there he was the infamous Gojo Satoru again, he was clapping like he saw some Broadway performance.

"Wow," he drawled, amusement dripping from his voice. "You can still run. I was starting to think you were getting slow in your old age."

You immediately shot him a glare, lips pressing into a thin line. "Didn't you just get here? Why are you already annoying me?"

He pushed off the fence and strolled toward you, hands in his pockets. "What, I can't congratulate my dear colleague for putting these poor kids in their place?"

Maki scoffed. "I almost had her."

Gojo snorted. "Yeah, sure you did."

You rubbed your temple, already feeling a headache forming. "Don't you have something better to do than bother me?"

Gojo tilted his head, pretending to think. "Nope."

You exhaled sharply through your nose, trying to resist the urge to kick him. Instead, you turned back to the students, ignoring Gojo's presence entirely. "Alright, enough lazing around. Back to training."

Maki, despite her earlier defeat, seemed eager to continue. Yuta groaned but complied, and even Toge sat up, stretching his arms before getting to his feet.

Panda patted your shoulder. "Nice work. You should do this more often."

You just grunted, feeling the weight of Gojo's gaze still on you.

You were now standing next to Gojo, watching the students resuming to their training, your arms crossed as you tried to ignore his presence. But he was too damn noticeable, his energy practically crackling beside you.

You were curious, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, "Why'd you come late today?"

His usual smugness faltered, just slightly. He shifted his weight, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "Had to talk to the higher-ups."

Your brows furrowed at the sudden shift in his demeanor. "About what?"

Gojo exhaled sharply through his nose, a humorless chuckle escaping him. "The usual bullshit. Politcs, old men too afraid of their own shadows.. and Yuta.."

You felt your blood boiling, you really didn't like them at all, though they paid you. There were just assholes, remind you of—never mind.

You sighed, "Bastards.." you muttered,

"Mm," Gojo hummed in agreement, "I will never get how they want to get rid of him. He's just a kid, a good and nice one. He's through hell and they are just trying to execute him because of the curse he has" you started ranting, 

Gojo tilted his head, his voice quieter, "Exactly.."

"Don't they get it, nobody should be allowed to take youth away from young people"

You nodded in agreement, your eyes landing on Yuta. You exhaled slowly, rubbing your temples. The high-ups, you knew what they were capable of—what were they willing do, if someone was too dangerous.

Your fingers twitched, wanting to break something. To them, they saw Yuta as a problem, not something to be solved, just a risk that needed to be neutralized, but to you, he was one of yours,

maybe not by blood, but you helped train him, watch him struggle and grow. But it wasn't with Yuta, it was with every other kid you have taken under your wing, they were yours. Didn't matter if they weren't flesh and blood, but it never changed how you saw them,

Is this how Yaga felt?

The thought stung, just a little bit. 

Back then, 

The way you had been protected, the way others had fought for you when you didn't even realize you needed it—now, it was your turn, as you were a teacher now.

but you didn't mind, you would protect these kids as many times they were in trouble.

And you wouldn't let those old bastard touch Yuta, not on your watch.

 

 

Chapter 31: pervert

 

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

 

So, you took him to choose one of the cursed weapons from the closet, and now he's going to fight Maki so he'll be able to use a katana in battle—am I right?"

"Right on the money, Y/N~," Gojo said playfully, a lazy grin stretching across his face.

You just gave him a look before turning your attention back to the sparring field. Yuta stood across from Maki, gripping his weapon with both hands, nerves practically radiating off of him. You deadpanned at the sight.

He was going to get his ass handed to him.

And just like you predicted, Maki wasn't holding back.

Yuta was quick on his feet, dodging when he could, but Maki was relentless, closing in on him with each strike. She weaved through his swings effortlessly, countering with sharp, precise movements. But then—

Your eyes widened.

Maki jumped just as Yuta swung, twisting midair and landing cleanly in a split before sweeping his legs out from under him.

'That was so cool.' You were in awe.

"That was so cool, Maki-moo!" you called out, waving excitedly.

Maki smirked, using his momentary distraction against him. In one swift motion, she knocked him off balance and sent him crashing onto his back, pressing the end of her wooden staff against his forehead.

"Congrats, you're dead—I win again and remain undefeated," she announced, still gripping the fabric of his uniform.

Yuta groaned, rubbing the forming bruise on his forehead. "Was that last part necessary?"

"Don't be so soft," Maki scoffed. "You should always treat training like a real battle. Experiencing pain and avoiding pain makes a huge difference in how fast you grow."

She turned on her heel, walking away from him like his suffering wasn't her problem.

"She's right, Yuta! It's always better to experience the real pain—even though it hurts," you added, flashing him a grin.

Yuta, determined as ever, pushed himself off the ground. "One more time, please. I have to get better."

And just like that, they were at it again.

Panda, watching the match unfold, crossed his arms. "It's been three months since Yuta came to Jujutsu High, and his movements are getting better every day."

You hummed in agreement.

"Salmon," Toge added.

"Even his personality is more positive," Gojo said, 

"Salmon roe" Toge agreed,

"And Maki seems like she's having more fun too. I don't think she gets to spar with another weapon user often—"

Panda's voice trailed off, making you glance at him. His expression had shifted, his expression was now shocked, catching you off-guard.

Then he got up, standing.

 "HEY YUTA, COME HERE, COME OVER HERE!!" Panda yelled, his booming voice cut through the training field as waving to Yuta. It was enough to throw both Yuta and Maki off their rhythm, making them pause mid-spar.

You cocked a brow at the sudden interruption as Yuta hesitated before jogging over, still slightly out of breath.

"What's up, Panda?"

"We have to have a super important discuss, so listen up close!" Panda said, hooking his arm around Yuta's shoulder, and pulling him close. You just looked at the scene happening before you,

Then he started whispering to Yuta, and whatever he said made Yuta become flustered,

"To tell you the truth, I never given it much thought before.."

Panda just nodded in agreement, "I guess given the choice, I like somewhat big" Yuta said, a pink tint on his cheeks. 

"Just like Y/N-sama, right?" Panda teased, grinning. You just looked at him, and that made Yuta get redder. Excuse me?

'What the hell were they talking about" you looked at the two of them, bewildered.

"Maki, you have a shot!" Panda exclaimed, spinning around as you just stared. Maki just looked at him like he was crazy,

Maki, who had been minding her own business, just looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "What crazy idea are you getting in that head of yours"  Maki exclaimed, 

"Don't be so shy, it's not like you're in elementary school!" Panda said,

Before Panda could say another word, Maki was already swinging at him.

"You absolute moron!" 

Panda yelped as he barely dodged her first strike, laughing as Maki chased him down. "Whoa, whoa! Chill, Maki! This is a friendly conversation!"

"Like hell it is!" she snapped, landing a clean hit to his stomach that made him stumble back.

You snorted, unable to hold back your laughter at the ridiculous scene unfolding before you. Maki was pissed, and Panda was definitely enjoying pushing her buttons.

Beside you, Yuta let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "What... are they even fighting about?"

Toge, ever so helpful, simply muttered, "Kelp."

Yuta blinked. "That... doesn't help at all."

You, however, turned your head to Yuta. You were far more interested in something else. You leaning in slightly, your face inches away from his,

"Hm, Yuta. What exactly did Panda tell you?" You asked, cocking a brow.

You watched as Yuta visibly tensed up, You tilted your head, pressing further. "And why did he say, 'Just like Y/N-sama'?"

Yuta's face practically caught on fire. He immediately looked anywhere but at you, stammering over his words. "I—uh—Panda was just—uh, it's not—!"

Your eyes narrowed, a teasing smirk creeping onto your lips. "Ohhh, now I really wanna know."

Yuta groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I-I swear it's not what you think!"

Panda, still dodging Maki's attacks, somehow found the breath to shout, 

"OWN UP TO IT, YUTA!"

"Come on, spill" You pressed, your grin widening, "What did Panda exactly say..."

"N-Nothing important" Yuta stammered, waving his hand frantically. 

"Is it just some stupid guy talk, right?" You said, and Yuta nodded.

"Well, I don't care..tell me—the way you reacted told me otherwise"

Yuta gulped, his whole body tensing as he tried to hide behind the spar weapon in his face. 

"Bonito flakes," Toge said, he was interested too.

"Exactly!" You snapped your fingers, nodding as if he'd just solved the mystery. "See, even Toge knows you're holding out on me!"

Meanwhile, Maki had finally landed a particularly brutal hit on Panda, sending him rolling across the ground with a dramatic groan. She dusted off her hands and turned to the rest of you with an unimpressed expression.

"What the hell is going on over here?" she asked, walking over.

Before Yuta could answer, Panda—who was still lying flat on his back—grinned and called out, "Yuta was just admitting that he likes big boobs!"

Gojo visibly perked up at that, an exaggerated gasp leaving his lips as he turned to you. "Oh? So that's what this is about?" His smirk widened, absolutely reveling in the moment. "He's getting bolder too...Yuta, I didn't know you had such exquisite taste."

Yuta looked like he was about to pass out. "T-that's not what I meant! Panda twisted my words!"

You, on the other hand, were amused. He looked like he was going to die on the spot, his soul practically leaving his body as he gawked at Panda in horror. 

You just stood there, processing Panda's words. Then, after a beat, you turned back to Yuta, cocking a brow.

"Huh," you mused. "So, when he said 'just like Y/N-sama'..."

Yuta squeaked.

"Oh my god," Maki muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Yuta whipped around to Panda, completely flustered. "WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT OUT LOUD?!"

"Hm..if you got a thing thing for Y/N, just say that" he cupped his chin, pretending to think for a moment. "Though I gotta admit, I can't blame you. Y/N's always been a fan favorite" Gojo slung her arms over your shoulders, grinning at you.

Y'know, Y/N, I think we should start taking applications. Clearly, you have admirers."

You didn't even blink before deadpanning, "Gojo, I know you only did that to touch my boobs."

His grin barely faltered, but there was the slightest shift in his expression—like a guilty man caught in the act. "What? I'd  never—"

You shoved his arm off. "You're so damn predictable."

Panda howled with laughter, slapping the ground. "Busted!"

Toge let out a sharp, amused, "Salmon!"

Maki just rolled her eyes. "Disgusting."

Yuta, still overwhelmed from his own embarrassment, suddenly looked even worse, like his soul was actively leaving his body. "Wait... Gojo-sensei was trying to—?"

"Obviously," you cut in, sending Gojo a glare. "He's been pulling this since we were students."

Gojo held his hands up like he was innocent. "Now, now, I'd never purposely—"

You shot him a look.

"Okay, maybe I'd purposely—"

The look intensified.

Gojo sighed, shrugging dramatically. "Alright, fine, you caught me. Can you blame me, though? It's you."

Maki gagged. "Gross."

Panda nudged Yuta. "See? This is what real shamelessness looks like."

Yuta looked like he desperately wanted to change the subject. "C-can we please just get back to training?"

Gojo grinned. "Aw, don't be jealous, Yuta~."

Yuta groaned, covering his face.

You, exasperated, crossed your arms. "Gojo, shut up."

He winked at you. "You love me."

You just rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms. 

"Damn, pervert" you muttered under your breath. You turned to Yuta, still covering his face, mumbling something under his breath. Meanwhile, Panda was just thriving in chaos, and leaned back on his elbows, grinning. 

"Man, this is better than any training session."

Maki cracked her knuckles. "It's about to end if you keep running your mouth."

"So, since we're on the topic, what is your type, Y/N?" I mean, we already know Yuta likes em' big—" Gojo teased, you just look at him.

"—but what about you? Strong, quiet type? A gentleman? Or maybe...someone tall, handsome, devastatingly charming?" He wiggled his brows.

You stared at him, unimpressed. "I know you're talking about yourself, Satoru—so stop immediately" You muttered, 

Gojo just gasped, hand over his chest like you'd just wounded him. "Y/N, I'm offended. I was just throwing out possibilities!"

"You're literally describing yourself right now."

Gojo smirked. "So you admit I fit your type?"

You groaned, shoving his face away with your palm. "You are so annoying."

"Annoyingly handsome," he shot back, his voice slightly muffled against your hand.

Maki looked at Panda. "Can we kill him?"

Panda nodded solemnly. "I say we vote."

Toge simply muttered, "Kelp,"

Then Gojo clapped his hands, "Okay, gather round!" Gojo exclaimed, 

"Toge, you have been requesting a curse that you are perfect for, shouldn't take you too long to exorcise it"

"Salmon"

"Request it?" Yuta questioned, 

"Toge is the only grade two sorcerer amongst us first year, he's allowed to take on missions on his own"

"That's impressive," Yuta said, 

"Yuta, why don't you go along too, you'll be Toge's support"

"Huh, you want me to support him?"

"Well, You'll be more like an observer really," Gojo said, then he went on about something you didn't care about.

 

✿

 

You were used to this right?

I mean you weren't overly pissed that Gojo told you last minute that you were going to supervise Toge and Yuta—you were lying to yourself, in reality, you were. Clenching your hands, you walked beside Gojo, who was talking.

"You know, it's really nice I can rely on you, Y/N" Gojo said, his hands in his pockets, you just glared at him as you walked down the hallways.

"Shut up" you grumbled, rolling your shoulders as you stretched your arms. 

The two of you continued down the hall, the massive doors of the school entrance coming into view. As Gojo kept talking, you pulled out your phone, quickly typed out a message to one of your friends: 

Make sure to pick up Ichiro. I'll be home late tonight. 

You hesitated before pressing send, glancing at the time with a sigh.

"Yuta! One more thing."

You lifted your head at Gojo's voice, watching as Yuta approached the both of you. He looked... nervous. Understandable, considering what Gojo was about to pull.

"Sorry, but I won't have time to supervise this mission," Gojo continued, his tone almost too cheerful. "So, Y/N will be supervising instead" You just waved at him.

"So, you can relax, there is only one thing you have to be careful of—don't let Rika out. There is no guarantee that she go back in like she did last time, only use the portion of Rika's power that you can imbue in your sword" Gojo continued, you watched as Yuta swallowed hard, his nerves painfully obvious now. 

"Do you know what would happen if you let her out again.." Gojo asked, tilting his head

"No, what would happen?" Yuta hesitated, 

Gojo just did a slicing his neck gesture, his tongue sticking out, "Both you, me, and Y/N—dead as a doornail" He said, while his smile was back on his face.

Your eye twitched,

Looking back at Gojo like he was crazy. Yuta's eyes widened slightly like he wasn't sure if he should be more shocked about the life-or-death stakes or that little tidbit.

"So, me and Y/N are counting on you" Gojo exclaimed, slinging his arm on you, bringing you really close. You just looked at him, 

"You are counting on him, right?" Gojo teased, still leaning a little too close. "I mean, I can die, but you? You got responsibilities, Y/N."

You wanted to kill him so bad..

You shoved his arm off of you, stepping away before you could actually deck him in the face. "First of all, shut the hell up. Second of all—why  would you say it like that?"

Gojo just laughed. "What? I'm motivating him! Raising the stakes! It's like one of those heartfelt moments in movies where the hero realizes what's really at risk, y'know?"

"You're an idiot."

Yuta, still looking like he was processing everything, cleared his throat. "U-uh, I won't do anything reckless," he assured, nodding quickly.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Good. Because I really don't feel like dying today."

Toge, who had been silently watching this whole exchange, finally chimed in,

 "Bonito flakes."

Gojo clapped his hands together. 

"Alright! Now that we've all had our fun, time for you two to go. Be good, don't die, and Y/N—try not to completely  traumatize them, yeah?"

"—And she also has a kid, so really don't do anything stupid"

You wanted to punch him so bad.

 

.

 

You sat in the front seat of the sleek back car, your phone in hand, your thumbs moving at seemingly lightning speed as it fired off texts. This was just a typical situation where Gojo threw last-minute responsibility on you like you didn't have a life of your own.

Toge was silent as ever, while Yuta was sitting next to him in the backseat. He was visibly tense, probably overthinking every possible outcome of this mission. 

Meanwhile, you were venting out everything.

"Ijichi, I swear, I could strangle him," you huffed, eyes still glued to your screen as you sent yet another message, this time to make sure Ichiro was okay.

 "How does he just decide I'm supervising a mission last minute? Like, what if I had plans?"

"You didn't have plans," Ijichi pointed out, his voice was flat.

"That's not the point," you shot back, finally looking up.

"He doesn't even ask—he just tells me like I'm on standby for his nonsense 24/7" You bickered on, Ijichi sighed but didn't argue with you.

Yuta shifted nervously, "Um, I'll do my best to make sure everything goes smoothly," he said hesitantly. You just glanced at him, putting your phone down, with a sigh. The poor kid looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

but he was, it was your life.

"I know you'll do your best" you said with a smile, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned against the car door.

"That's what I'm not worried about..it's just.." you trailed off, shaking your head before mumbling, "It's just Satoru being Satoru" you muttered.

Toge, who been silent this whole time, just said, "Salmon"

You groaned, "Exactly, Toge, exactly!"

Yuta blinked between the two of you, clearly confused but too stressed to ask. Instead, he swallowed hard, gripping his sword case tighter. 

"I mean... it is a big deal," he admitted. "If I mess up and let Rika out—"

"You won't," you interrupted firmly, your gaze locking onto his. "You're not gonna mess up, Yuta. That's what I'm here for—to supervise, not babysit. You've been training hard, so trust yourself a little."

Yuta nodded, but the nerves were still all over his face.

The car ride fell into a brief silence, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional tap of your nails against your phone screen.

"I swear when I get back...I'm going to kill him" you grumbled,

 

 

⟡

 

 

Chapter 32: UPDATE !

Summary:

a announcement, as thank you for 45 kudos, and all the comments! ALSO HOLY 1232 HITS OMGG

 

𝜗𝜚

 

new chapters:

heian

forbidden

buckle

tradegy

childhood

 

3/16/25

new chapters:

taunting

miraculous

check up

healing

+

seen

drunken kiss

the talk

 

 

hope you enjoy <3, there are still chapters coming out for ACT ONE, and editing is still happening!

 

**also thank you so much for 1,324 hits, the 45 kudos, and 6 bookmarks, and all of you really enjoying the story, and I'm really grateful you guys like it. I'm just trying to really enforce the story to be really good! Also, comments are really nice, I love reading your guy's critiques, feelings and etc. But again, thank you for reading!

𝜗𝜚

Chapter 33: 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭

Summary:

CHECKPOINT AND WE FINALLY OUT OF FIXING AND NOW CONTINUE WITH THE MAIN STORY AYYYY!!

⟡

 

this is the fun fact section:

 

your practically in the top ten ranking of really powerful sorcerers, even after your break in the jujutsu kaisen world, you're still really powerful.

you also still have beef with Zen'in clan, you know after you left—your name becomes infamous in the Zen'in household as the runway zenin bride but even with the nickname they still do not like you.

also as being a teacher, you really good at teaching but hate doing paperwork.

You always have a picture of Ichiro in your wallet, <3

you type in all lowercase and have a LOT of typos "r u alive. class starts in 10. bring me  coffee"

you also carry candy on you, as you claim it for Ichiro but you always give them to your students—you even give some Gojo, haha.

you also always bring a little cute medkit with really cute bandaids, like panda one, sparkle one and even heart ones.

 

⟡

 

Chapter 34: meet up

Summary:

Another new chapter; finally, no rewriting yay!!

 

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

—The car rolled to a stop in front of an old, abandoned building on the outskirts of town. The air was thick with an eerie stillness, and just looking at the place made your skin crawl. Typical. Gojo always sent you on the most annoying jobs.

You shoved your phone into your pocket, finally tearing your attention away from your texts as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

"Alright, we're here," you sighed, pushing the car door open.

Yuta and Toge followed suit, stepping out onto the cracked pavement. The building in front of you was worn down,  it was a shopping district—Hapina Shopping district.

Ijichi got out as well, "We arrived"

"Hapina Shopping district..at the moment most of the stores are closed from the public, there is a project to demolish the Hapina Shopping district in order to put up a new mall, during an inspection of the area, they confirmed a pack of low-level curses hiding among the corridor, in order to exorcism them, they request grade two sorcerer tog—"

"Huh?! Wait where did Toge go?"

"He probably got bored of your little yap session on your iPad, Ijichi" You teased, pointing to him.

"Wait he was right here" Yuta spoke up, before turning to see Toge walking with a bag by his side, which caught your attention.

"Oh! Mr. Ijichi, Mr.s Y/N, he's over there—he was shopping?"

"See this is why Toge is my favorite, he knows always what to do, shopping first, exorcising second, you learn from the great huh?"

"What did you buy from that store" Yuta asked, Toge just dug their hand into the bag, and took it out, 'throat medicine' he held up.

"Hm, smart" You muttered,

"In short, they want us to exorcise it now, before the building they spent so much money on developers  a reputation for curse anger"

"Salmon"

"Now then...I will draw the veil, good luck to you—But remember, this is Toge's mission. Yuta is here to observe, and y/n, you're here to supervise" 

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, waving a hand dismissively. "Let's just get this over with."

"He said, it a pack of low-level curses" Toge repeated Ijichi's words.

Toge adjusted his collar, his eyes sharp as he stepped forward. "Salmon Roe"

"Right," Yuta took a deep breath and followed behind him, though you could still see the tension in his shoulders.

You stretched your arms with a groan before trudging after them. "Alright, boys, remember the rules—Toge takes the lead, Yuta supports but doesn't interfere unless necessary, and if anything sketchy happens, you let me handle it." You glanced at Yuta. 

"And absolutely no letting Rika out. I really don't feel like dying tonight."

Yuta swallowed hard and nodded.

You were already veering off toward a nearby pillar. "I'll be supervising from… over here."

Yuta shot you a confused glance. "Wait, aren't you supposed to—?"

"Supervising doesn’t mean babysitting," you cut in smoothly, pulling a cigarette from your pocket. "It means trusting you both to handle business while I handle mine."

Toge barely spared you a glance, already locked in on the faint rustling ahead. "Salmon," he murmured, acknowledging your words before continuing forward.

You leaned against the cold concrete, fishing for your lighter as you watched them from a distance. It wasn’t like they needed you breathing down their necks for a couple of weak-ass curses.

The flame flickered to life, casting a brief glow on your face as you lit the cigarette and took a slow drag. Smoke curled from your lips as you exhaled, your eyes lazily following Yuta and Toge as they moved further into the district.

A vibration in your pocket pulled your attention back to your phone. You glanced at the screen—unsurprisingly, it was Gojo.

Gojo: How’s the babysitting going?
Gojo: They still breathing?
Gojo: Btw, I’m hungry. Bring me something back plz.

You rolled your eyes before typing back a response.

Your anger started coming back again, with Gojo making you supervise Yuta and Toge, your eyebrows twitching, as your fingers started typing away with emotion clouding your vision. 

FUCK, you couldn't even send it with this shitty veil covering the district—bastard.

Then, the sound of an explosive echoed through the abandoned shopping district, 

"Hm...there done?" You questioned, looking into the distance. But your eyes landed on the veil, it was still down, didn't even lift. You cocked your eyebrows at the sight, 

"I guess not" you muttered, but you felt a surge of cursed energy—what the hell.

You stared into the distance again, this curse wasn't some low-level one, it was something much stronger, your eyes widened before you started walking—no it turned into a sprint, as you started running towards the influx of cursed energy near the sight.

The sound of your footsteps echoing through your ears, your heart was practically pounding, you didn't want them to die...

Swinging your body through corners, 

Your breath came out sharp and uneven as you tore through the crumbling corridors, boots slamming against the cracked pavement. The closer you got, the heavier the cursed energy became—thick, suffocating, pressing down on your chest like a vice.

This isn't right.

Ijichi said this was supposed to be a cleanup job—low-level curses, you felt your heart pang at the memory of Yu and Nanami, and that cursed mission, made you want to scream.

Your fingers twitched. You know that this is a mission for them to exorcise curses, but still had a little worry, maybe that white-haired bastard was right about this maternal stuff, you obviously wouldn't say that to his face, admitting Satoru was right was not something on your bingo list at all.

 You weren’t supposed to fight unless necessary, but you had a sinking feeling you wouldn’t have a choice.

When you finally caught the sight of them, it was just them high-fiving each other. You were so relief at the scene, 

But they seemed to notice you,

"Oh, Y/N" Yuta called out, waving his hand at you. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of his silly display, Your eyes flicked over to Yuta’s bruises, to the faint exhaustion in Toge’s posture.

“Are you guys okay?” you asked, your voice softer now.

Toge nodded, and Yuta gave you a reassuring grin. “Yeah, really! Nothing serious.”

You clicked your tongue. “Mm. Guess I’ll believe you.”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a small, breathless laugh.  

"Alright, the mission’s done. Let’s go. Ijichi’s probably losing his shit" You clasp your hands, with a smile on your face. 

 

⟡

 

You stepped out of the veil, and suddenly the vibrating coming of your phone got your attention as you took it out, 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket again. You already knew who it was before you even looked.

Gojo: U alive?
Gojo: Y/N?
Gojo: Helloooo?
Gojo: Answer me woman.
Gojo: If ur dead just say that.
Gojo: Actually, nvm. U can’t say that if ur dead.
Gojo: But like, if ur dying, blink twice.
Gojo: WAIT U CANT TEXT IF UR DYING EITHER—

You scoffed. This bastard.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, already regretting checking your notifications.

Without missing a beat, you typed back:

You: Choke.

A few seconds later, another buzz.

Gojo: Kinky :)) 

You resisted the urge to throw your phone back into the ruined shopping district.

Then, you spotted Ijichi.

The poor guy was pacing near the car, practically drenched in sweat, his fingers twitching like he was about to have a heart attack. His head snapped up the second he saw you emerging with Yuta and Toge, both looking relatively fine, albeit a little roughed up.

“Oh, Y/N—thank goodness, I thought—!”

You grinned, cutting him off as you dramatically placed a hand over your heart. “Aww, Ijichi, were you worried about little old me?”

"Obviously, I was worried..." Ijichi exclaimed, he was blinking at you, still looking frazzled.

You patted his shoulder with an exaggerated pout. “That’s adorable.”

He frowned, muttering something under his breath about how you and Gojo were exactly the same, but you ignored him.

You yanked the car door open and slid inside, still scowling at your phone. Yuta and Toge piled into the backseat, and Ijichi hesitated for a moment before getting behind the wheel.

The guy still looked shaken. His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the rearview mirror, eyes darting to you every few seconds like he expected you to disappear again.

You sighed, throwing your head back against the seat. “Ijichi, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking you have a crush on me.”

He nearly choked on air, scrambling to start the car. “I-I do not!”

Toge snorted softly in the backseat, and even Yuta let out a quiet chuckle. You smirked, stretching your arms behind your head.

Ijichi muttered something under his breath—probably a prayer for patience—before finally pulling onto the road.

The ride back to Jujutsu High was quiet at first. Yuta stared out the window, already dozing off. Toge scrolled through his phone, occasionally glancing at you like he was waiting for you to start something. You would’ve, but you were too busy plotting Gojo’s demise.

Gojo: Why aren’t you answering?
Gojo: Rude.
Gojo: I know you’re alive, Ijichi would’ve called me crying if you weren’t.
Gojo: Also, bring me a drink too. I’m feeling parched.

You gritted your teeth, fingers tightening around your phone.

Ijichi, still visibly tense, glanced at you. “You’re… making a very concerning face.”

You inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, then turned to him with a sickly sweet smile. “Ijichi, do you think anyone would notice if I threw Gojo off a cliff?”

His face drained of color. “Please don’t say things like that so casually!”

Toge held up a hand

" Salmon"

You snickered. “See? Toge gets it.”

Yuta, still half-asleep, mumbled, “I think he’d survive.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s the problem.”

 

Ijichi sighed, clearly regretting every life decision that led him to this moment.

...

—Days had passed since the mission at Hapina Shopping District, but things felt… off. You couldn’t shake the feeling, like an itch at the back of your mind that wouldn’t go away.

Yet, life at Jujutsu High carried on like normal. You walked through the hallways, phone in hand, scrolling through a text thread with Shoko about meeting up for drinks later. The school was quieter than usual, with most students off on missions or training. You let out a tired sigh, still feeling the weight of something unexplainable from the other day.

Then, just as you turned a corner—

BAM.

You collided into something—or rather, someone. Your phone nearly slipped from your grip as you stumbled back a step.

“Tch—watch where you’re going, dumbass—” you started, but then your eyes landed on a very familiar white-haired bastard.

Gojo.

He grinned like he was expecting you. "Ah, Y/N! How nice of you to run into me. Was that on purpose? You just can’t resist touching me, huh?"

You deadpanned. “I hope you fall down a flight of stairs.”

His smile widened. “So feisty today~”

Normally, you’d banter with him, but you weren’t in the mood. Your expression wasn’t as playful, your usual relaxed demeanor absent. You tried to step around him, but he blocked your path, tilting his head as he peered at you through his sunglasses.

His voice lowered slightly. "Y/N—I wanted to ask you about what fully happened during the mission"

You paused mid-step.

You exhaled, pocketing your phone. “Oh..I won't lie that was something off about it.."

Gojo folded his arms, 

“It was supposed to be a cleanup job, right? Low-level curses. But there was this moment…” Your brows furrowed slightly as you recalled the feeling. “There was an influx of cursed energy—stronger than it should’ve been. It was quick, but I felt it. It wasn’t from Toge, it wasn’t from Yuta, and I know it wasn’t from me.” You looked at him then, eyes sharp. “Did you get a report from Ijichi about it?”

A beat of silence stretched between you before Gojo finally spoke. “I did.”

Your expression didn’t change, but something in your stomach twisted at the way he said it.

You watched as Gojo removed his sunglasses, tucking them into the collar of his uniform. His usual playful look dimmed slightly, something more serious behind his eyes.

"Ijichi went back to inspect the area after you all left," he said, his voice quieter now, just for you to hear. "And he noticed something... interesting."

Your fingers twitched. “...Go on.”

Gojo’s blue eyes studied you for a moment before he spoke again. “Someone else put down another veil—on top of Ijichi’s.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“…What?”

Gojo nodded. "Whoever did it was covering their tracks. It wasn’t meant to trap you guys, but to mask something. Like someone was testing something out, seeing what they could get away with."

You swallowed. Your mind immediately went back to that surge of cursed energy. That presence.

“…Did they figure out who it was?”

Gojo’s gaze never left yours. Then, he finally said it.

"I did, it was..Geto"

Your entire body froze.

No.

Your breath hitched, lips parting slightly as you stared at him. "You’re joking."

Gojo didn’t smile. Didn’t tease. He just looked at you with that same unsettling calmness.

“I wish I was."

You didn’t realize you had clenched your fists until your nails pressed into your palms. Your mind raced, trying to process it.

Geto? Suguru Geto?

Your heart still pangs at the sound of his name, Suguru...bastard—you  felt that sudden drop in your stomach like everything had shifted—

How the hell—was he there?

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I needed to be sure. And I figured…” He looked at you again, voice softer. “You should hear it from me.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe. Your pulse pounded in your ears, your thoughts tangled.

“…Why?” Your voice was quiet.

Gojo shook his head. "That’s what I want to find out."

You exhaled sharply, trying to suppress the uneasy feeling crawling up your spine. Suguru Geto… what the hell was he planning?

"Fuck..he's planning something, isn't he.." You muttered, with a frown.

Gojo didn't answer immediately. His usual air of nonchalance was still there, but his expression was tight—serious in a way that only happened when things were actually bad. He tucked his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly.

"Most likely," he admitted. "And knowing him, it’s not gonna be something small."

You exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down your face. 

“Shit.”

 

⟡

Chapter 35: switch

Summary:

Yay another chapter,

 

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

—It had been some time since the odd mission, with the revelation of everything Gojo told you, you had some time to think about it,

Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, the revelation of Geto’s involvement sitting heavy in your mind. He was planning something—something big. And you had been right there, completely unaware, playing into whatever game he was orchestrating.

Your fingers curled slightly, your nails pressing into your palm. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You hated the feeling of being played with.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you absentmindedly scanned the hallway, lost in your thoughts. Students bustled around you, their chatter blending into background noise, but none of it fully registered. Your mind was too preoccupied.

At least until your gaze landed on him.

Nanami Kento.

You didn’t even realize you had stopped walking until a second too late. Your head tilted slightly, eyes scanning over his figure as if its you're seeing him for the first time in years.

And fuck, maybe you were.

Gone was the lanky, awkward first-year who used to grumble about everything under the sun. The boy with that emo hairstyle, the one that made you tease him every chance you got.

The man in front of you now?

Broad shoulders, well-fitted uniform, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins running along his forearms. His posture was as rigid as ever, but there was something about the way he carried himself now—refined, sharp, the kind of confidence that came with experience.

And don’t even get started on that damn tie, slightly loosened as he had just run a hand through it in frustration.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little warm.

What the fuck.

When did Nanami get this hot—I mean you have been working here, but you never notice him.

That strict, serious expression was still there, that same unimpressed furrow of his brow. But now, combined with the way he filled out his uniform, it wasn’t just intimidating—it was hot.

You blinked.

Was this some kind of stress-induced hallucination?

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it. You were overthinking, that was all. You had just been deep in thought about Geto and now your brain was scrambling for distractions.

That’s what this was.

Definitely not the fact that Nanami looked like he could bench-press you without breaking a sweat.

As if feeling your stare, Nanami’s sharp gaze flickered over to you, his brows drawing together ever so slightly.

"Something wrong?" His voice was the same—deep, steady, unimpressed.

Your mouth opened slightly, but for the first time in a while, no words came out.

What the hell were you supposed to say? Yeah, actually, when did you get fine as hell?

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to smirk, masking the sudden shift in your brain.

"Nothing," you shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets as if that would somehow steady you. "Just surprised you’re still as grumpy as ever, even after all these years."

Nanami exhaled sharply, clearly unamused. "And you’re still as unserious as ever."

You watched as he glanced at his watch before shaking his head slightly. "I don’t have time for whatever nonsense you’re about to start," he muttered before stepping past you.

And, damn it, you hated to admit it, but you did steal another glance at his broad ass back as he walked away.

This was ridiculous.

You needed to get your head back in the game.

Because between Geto planning something and Gojo’s annoying ass breathing down your neck, the last thing you needed was to start getting distracted.

Even if that distraction came in the shape of a 6’3”, well-dressed, stupidly fine sorcerer.

but damn, 

You really didn’t mind getting a little distracted.

And then an idea popped into your head, you were moving faster than you could think, walking right beside him, 

With slow, purposeful steps, you followed after him, your voice dripping with playful amusement as you finally spoke up.

"Come on, Nanami~," you drawled, your smirk growing as he stopped in his tracks. "No need to run away so fast. I don’t bite."

His shoulders tensed slightly before he sighed, turning just enough to glance at you from the corner of his eye. "I’m not running away," he muttered, adjusting his tie. "I have things to do."

You tilted your head, still smirking. "Oh? Too busy to entertain little ol’ me?"

He exhaled sharply, clearly unamused. But the way his fingers flexed slightly at his sides? The way his jaw ticked just a little?

Yeah. You saw that.

You took a step closer, making sure to lean in just enough to make it obvious. Not too much. Just enough to play with the line. "It’s been a while since we caught up, hasn’t it? You’ve changed a lot since our Jujutsu High days." Your eyes flickered over him again, slow, teasing. "Gotten bigger too."

His lips parted slightly, and for a second, you swore he looked like he was about to say something—before he just sighed, shaking his head.

"I don’t have time for this," he muttered under his breath before turning away.

Ooooh.

He was trying so hard to be unaffected, and that made it all the more fun.

You grinned, your tongue running over your bottom lip.

"Shame," you hummed, watching him walk away again.

 "Could’ve been fun."

You didn’t miss the way his shoulders tensed up for just a second before he disappeared around the corner.

..

You exhaled with a pout, watching him leave, but you really didn't mind looking from the back,

But focus—This wasn’t the time to be getting all hot and bothered over broad shoulders and a nice ass—no matter how good Nanami looked now. You had bigger things to worry about.

Lock in, girl. Lock the fuck in.

Shaking your head, you straightened up, tucking your phone into your pocket before making your way down the hallway. You had to get back to the briefing room anyway—Gojo was probably waiting for you, and if you didn’t show up soon, he’d just come find you himself.

And that was the last thing you needed.

Your boots clicked against the floor as you made your way through Jujutsu High’s halls, your mind still spinning through everything that had happened over the past few days.

The more you thought about it, the more it pissed you off.

Why now? Why come back now?

You still remembered the way things used to be, back when everything was normal. Back when it was the four of you—Gojo, Geto, Shoko, and you. You remembered the late nights, the dumb missions, the stupid arguments.

You remembered when Geto still smiled.

But now?

Now he was just another enemy.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as you turned a corner, jaw tightening.

 

✦

 

You were busy walking the halls, turning your heels as you started down the hallway, you were determined to keep your focus where it needed to be. But just as you took a few steps forward—

BOOM—

The speakers crackled to life, and a distorted voice rang through the halls:

"All sorcerers on campus, semi-first grade to above—in the circle up front immediately.  I repeat: all semi-first grade sorcerers and above, report immediately."

'What the.." you froze mid-step, your eyes narrowing. You put your hand underneath your chin, something was definitely wrong, you heard the sounds of moving footsteps against the tiled floors, 

You sucked in a sharp breath, turning on your heels and running straight towards the front, you were just glad you were on the first floor.

Your body moved on instinct, weaving through corridors, dodging passing students who barely had time to process the urgency in your movements before you disappeared around another corner. You needed to get out—find an exit, get to the front, now.

The second your eyes landed on a door leading outside, you didn’t hesitate. You shoved it open, the cold night air smacking against your face as you pushed forward.

Your eyes landed on—

 Yuta. Panda. Toge. Maki.

Standing in the open courtyard, it wasn't odd, I mean this was the time student usually were heading back to their dorms, but your eyes landed on the weird-looking bird, maybe an ostrich that was a distance away from them, and then—

Geto...

what the hell was going on here, your eyes were twitching.

"This place never does change, does it?" Geto huffed, and then your attention switched to the bird opening its mouth and people coming out of it, first— was some guy, with blonde hair, he had no shirt and...heart nipples, wait, what the actual fuck is going on here,

and then—two girls were out, one was a brunette holding onto what seemingly looked like a cursed doll, 

'Creepy' you felt yourself shivering, 

"Yuckk, Mr. Geto, please don't tell me this what Tokyo looks like, looks like we're out with the sticks" The blonde one complained,

"Nanako..that rude" The brunette girl responded back to her comment.

"What, you know you think that too Mimiko" The blonde girl, Nanako responded back.

"Come on, get out of there already," The blonde guy said,

"Aren't you cold without a shirt" Nanako shot back, 

"Hey..who are those guys" Mimiko pointed out, her voice detached from emotion.

"WOAH, ITS PANDA, CUTE!" Nanako exclaimed, taking out her phone and snapping pictures with excitement.

"-And who are you supposed to be, get off the school grounds before Yuta makes you" Panda shot back,

"Pollack Roe"

You almost laughed at how quickly Yuta's expression changed, 

"Better go home, before you get beat up by Yuta I mean" Maki said, putting her spear on her shoulder.

Then— Geto was in front of Yuta,

"Nice to meet you Yuta Okkotsu, My name is Suguru Geto"

"Uhh..hi, nice to meet you"

Usually, you would step in, but you wanted to see what was Geto really here for, so you slid yourself behind one of the trees.

"I see your possessiveness of a truly wonderful power, and I believe such great power ought to be used to create great opportunities—have you ever questioned the current state of the world, where jujutsu sorcerers act in secret to protect the order of commonplace of society" Geto ranted on, before unclasping Yuta's hands,

"Hm?"

"You see my friend, there is this established paradox—that mistakenly says that the strong must accommodate the weak..it's so deplorable" Geto slung his hand over Yuta's shoulders, as he continued to rant on, it was clear he was really..really into whatever bullshit coming out of his mouth.

"Okay.." Yuta said, it was crazy how the once shy Yuta, was lowkey holding his own ground, though he doesn't know this insane, psycho that was right beside him.

"It is if like the apex of all creation decided to hold its own path of evolution, it's nonsense—and it time for mankind to reconsider its strategy for survival—which is why we would like you to help us"

"Help you with what?" Yuta asked, he was confused, and you were too, listening to the conversation

"We're going to kill all non-sorcerers and create a world of jujutsu sorcerers—"

What..

You blinked for a moment, and then twice, yeah it's time to stop this—you just rushed into action, kicking your feet up to divide Geto and Yuta, which made Yuta stumble back,

"Hey...Suguru, I don't like randoms, especially crazy ones around my students, and..get that ugly ass bird out of here" You turned your head to face him, 

Geto barely reacted, his smirk still in place, like he had been expecting you to step in at some point. His dark eyes met yours, calm, calculating—like he was amused by your outburst.

"You wound me, Y/N," he sighed, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "I thought we were old friends."

You scoffed. "Friends don’t show up uninvited, spout genocidal bullshit, and try to recruit my student into their freak cult."

Behind you, Yuta was still staring in mild disbelief, while Panda and Maki had taken more defensive stances. Toge was watching silently, his gaze sharp.

Nanako and Mimiko whispered among themselves, side-eyeing you but keeping their distance.

"Ugly? That’s no way to talk about my friend," the shirtless blonde—what the fuck was up with those heart nipples—chimed in, tossing his head back with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes. "You’re lucky I’m too busy dealing with this idiot to start roasting you."

The man just grinned wider. "Ohhh, scary."

"Enough," Geto’s voice cut through the air, cool and smooth as ever. His gaze never left yours, and something in it made your stomach twist.

"You’re as confrontational as always, Y/N," he mused. "But that’s what I like about you. Always so protective."

You clicked your tongue, stepping closer. "Damn right I am. And you’re wasting your breath if you think Yuta’s gonna sign up for your fucked-up fantasy world. So why don’t you take your little circus and get the fuck out?"

The moment the words left your mouth, Geto smiled. A slow, knowing smile that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"You think this is just a casual visit?" he murmured.

Your expression hardened.

—"Do me a favor, could not preach your crazy beliefs to my students"

Finally, that white-haired bastard was here, you were still glaring at Geto who was right in front of you, the sound of footsteps coming near you,

"Satoru, long time no see" Geto exclaimed, 

"Step aside from those kids right now, Suguru.."

"I heard this new first-year class is outstanding, seems true, you still have an eye for talent—

a special-grade cursed human...

a cursed corpse mutation

a cursed speech user,

and last...the zenin clan biggest failure"

It seemed his last words about Maki made your eyes twitch, you felt yourself already unsheathing your fans and aiming them directly at him,

"You piece of shit" Maki cursed, immediately aiming her spear toward Geto,

"You better watch that mouth of yours, because I don't need any monkeys like you living in the world I'm creating" Geto responded back dismissively, 

"No, you should really watch your mouth Suguru" You bark out, you didn't play with anyone hurting or talking crazy about your student—but now you don't mind going to war for them, 

Geto’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with something smug and knowing. "Or maybe," he continued smoothly, "you only care about this girl because she reminds you of yourself. A failure. A Zen’in reject, just like you almost were."

Your grip on your fans tightened.

He wasn’t done. He never was.

"After all, you were once their perfect little bride-to-be, weren’t you?" His voice was laced with amusement, but there was something sharp beneath it. "The Runaway Zen’in Bride, isn’t that what they call you? Must sting—knowing you were only valuable to them as long as you played your part."

Your jaw clenched so hard it ached.

The rage in your chest burned hot, but it was the way he said it—so casual, so damn certain—that made your stomach twist.

Because fuck.

He clocked you.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, your entire body seething, but for a split second—just a second—you hesitated.

And Geto saw it.

His smirk deepened like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Struck a nerve?"

"Shut the fuck up," you spat, but it didn’t have the usual ease, the usual venom—because you were gagged. 

"Just saying," he shrugged, stepping back, completely unbothered by the weapons aimed at him. "It’s funny, isn’t it? The Zen’in clan chewed you up and spat you out, and yet, here you are—playing teacher, protecting a girl they threw away just like they did to you. How poetic."

You exhaled sharply through your nose, biting back every insult, every threat—because you couldn’t let him see that he got to you.

Maki looked between you and Geto, brows furrowing slightly, but she didn’t say anything.

"Touchy subject?" Geto mused. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Your entire body tensed.

Your hands were shaking,

"I'm sorry, I don't really understand anything that you're talking about but I can't help anyone that insults my friends or Ms. Y/N, so count me out," Yuta said, 

Geto sighed, "My apologizes, I didn't come here to insult you or your friends"

"That's good to know, why exactly did you come here" Gojo said, stepping in right beside you giving you and Yuta space away from Geto.  You were practically like a tea kettle ready to explode, 

Then there was a beat of silence,

"I came to declare war—everyone gathers here today, I want you all to open your ears and listen closely, on December twenty-fourth when the sun sets, we shall begin the night parade of hundred demons at crucible of curses, Shinjuku, Tokyo as well as the holy land of jujutsu, Kyoto. A thousand curses will be unreleased all with the command—massacre, if you wish to avoid a screen straight from hell, let us freely curse each other to the death" Geto ended with a smile, it was creepy, the one that made you wanted to shiver and jump—but you were too fucking mad to even mind it.

this jackass...

"WAHHH—mr geto, the cafe is gonna close!!" Nanako yelled out, looking at her green, bunny phone.

"Oh is it that late already—you know how it is don't you..these girls have to get their favorite crepes from Takeisha Street"

"Come on, hurry up!" 

"I'll be taking my leave now—Nanako I really don't see what is so good with a place with so many monkeys," Geto said, already walking away towards his entourage.

"You really think we're just gonna let you leave?"

"Careful Satoru.."

Then—out of nowhere, a black aura surrounded the thing and then disappeared revealing a huge curse, with one eyeball—it was ugly and it was yelling out. Then more curses appear out of nowhere surrounding the students, 

"Your precious students are well within my range.." Geto responded back,

"Goodbye everybody, see you at the war" You watched as he disappear on that fucking ugly ass bird, not without you through one of your heels straight at the bird,

"YOU FUCKING JACKASS, FUCK YOU" 

Your voice cracked, chest rising and falling in jagged, uneven movements. Your entire body was buzzing, burning, thrumming with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and something dangerously close to fear.

but mostly rage, 

A slow, steady exhale came from beside you.

Gojo.

You turned slightly, your vision still swimming, your body still thrumming with pent-up fury.

He was quiet—too quiet. His head tilted upwards just slightly, his white blindfold covering his eyes, 

That same eerie silence stretched between you.

And then—

"You done?"

His voice was low, careful.

Not mocking. Not teasing.

Just serious.

Too serious.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands still clenched at your sides. Your throat burned. Your chest ached.

But you swallowed it down.

Because there was no time for this.

You straightened, rolling your shoulders, your expression twisting into something tight and unreadable.

"Just tell me you have a plan."

 

⟡

 

Chapter 36: hard feelings

Summary:

new chapter, sorry for not updating I was really busy!
aka sympathy is really a knife, huh?

 

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

There was a heavy air in the room—something that couldn't be sliced with even the sharpest cursed tool.

The emergency meeting had been called immediately after Geto's sudden and public declaration of war. It wasn't just the usual crowd either—this time, it wasn't only teachers and higher-ups. This time, everyone semi-first grade and above were seated or standing in the wide, dimly-lit conference hall inside the main wing of Jujutsu High. The kind of meeting that didn't happen unless the world was about to shift on its axis.

The kind of meeting that made your skin crawl.

You were seated at the end of the table, arms crossed so tightly that your freshly manicured nails were biting into your skin. You didn't even care. Your legs were bouncing anxiously, your foot tapping against the tile as Ijichi read from the folder in his trembling hands.

"Suguru Geto..." he began, voice unsteady as he adjusted his glasses.

You barely restrained an eye-roll. Just hearing that bastard's name again had your jaw tensing.

"A special grade curse user with cursed spirit manipulation. He can summon and control naturally occurring, unbound curses. According to our latest surveillance and intel reports... he has founded a religious cult, which he is now using to collect curses from followers. The recent lull in reported curse appearances seems to be a direct result of his influence."

You scoffed under your breath. "Of course."

Ijichi flinched slightly but continued. "This means Geto already possesses a significant number of curses... but what's most concerning is his personal claim—"

He hesitated.

Yaga gave him a nod. "Say it."

Ijichi cleared his throat. "He claims to possess two thousand curses."

The room fell silent.

You felt the breath catch in your chest. That bastard had the nerve to stand on campus, surrounded by students, and spout his plans like a prophet before just walking out—like nothing could touch him. Like none of you could stop him.

"That might not even be a bluff..." Ijichi added quietly, eyes darting toward you as you exhaled hard through your nose, your fury thinly veiled under your controlled exterior.

You gritted your teeth. "Two thousand. Fucking hell."

Shoko, leaning lazily against the wall by the far corner with her arms crossed and a cigarette half-burned between her lips, exhaled slowly. "And that's just the curses. You're forgetting he's also been recruiting humans... curse users who sympathize with his cause."

Yaga finally sat down heavily in his seat, elbows on the table, fingers interlocked under his chin. "Even so, statistically speaking, most of those curses have got to be grade two or lower. It's the upper grades that are the real threat."

"True," Mei Mei chimed in smoothly, flipping her long silver hair behind her. "But if they're being coordinated, commanded in waves like trained dogs... even lower-grade curses could become dangerous in large enough numbers. Especially in highly populated areas."

Gojo, who was leaning against the wall just a few feet from you, finally spoke up. His tone was uncharacteristically sober. "That's the part that worries me."

You turned your head slightly, his voice slicing through the tension like a hot knife.

He pushed off the wall and stepped forward, eyes hidden behind bandage wrap, but his mouth was drawn in a thin, grim line.

"I find it hard to believe that Geto would wage a war he doesn't think he can win."

The words hung in the air like a curse of their own.

Yaga stood again abruptly, the weight of what Gojo said sinking into everyone's bones.

"God damn! put out a call for aid to all alumni," Yaga barked, eyes burning with an urgency no one had seen since the Night Parade was first theorized. "Alert the three major clans and the Ainu Jujutsu Society."

Everyone stiffened. That was a heavy move. The Ainu society hadn't been in contact in years. Not unless things were on the brink of annihilation.

"This is an all-out war—and it's not just the curses we exorcised, it's Geto!"

The room stirred. Mei Mei uncrossed her legs. Nanami adjusted his tie.

Ino straightened from where he'd been sitting, fists clenched tight at his sides.

"This time..." Yaga continued, voice rising as his hands slammed against the table. "That curse user—Geto—will be completely—"

 

"Exorcised!"

 

The words coming from Yaga ranged in the room like some war bell, you didn't speak yet. Not because you weren't angry. Not because you didn't want to scream your throat raw.

But because you were simmering. Controlled rage. A storm is building in your chest.

When the silence returned and eyes shifted toward the future—to the planning of counterattacks, the reinforcement of barriers, the creation of emergency evacuation routes for students and civilians—you stood.

And when you spoke, the calm, smooth edge in your voice could've made glass shatter.

"If he wants war, he'll get one."

Gojo tilted his head to glance at you. Even with the blindfold acting as a barrier, you still felt his stare.

You took a step forward. "But if we're going to do this, we don't just prepare—we dominate."

You looked over the map spread on the table, and red markers were already peppering Shinjuku and Kyoto.

"We start creating a counter-assault plan. We bolster the youth, double down on training, and make sure every sorcerer under our roof is battle-ready. We don't panic. We prepare."

Nanami gave a silent nod from across the room. Kusakabe muttered something in agreement under his breath. Even Ino's tension seemed to settle with your words.

You met Gojo's gaze again. "I'll handle the Tokyo response team."

"No," Gojo responded easily, but not mockingly. "We're co-leading. You'll burn out if you try to cover everything."

You rolled your eyes. "I don't burn out."

"Everyone does," he muttered, before turning his attention back to the group.

Yaga took a breath. "We need watch patrols at every jujutsu-related landmark. This is going to be a prolonged engagement. He's not going to strike once. He's going to make us bleed first."

"Let me scout the religious sites tied to his cult," Mei Mei offered, her voice casual, but her gaze cold and calculating. "If he's pulling curses from believers, we need to cut the supply."

"Do it," Yaga nodded.

Shoko finally snubbed her cigarette against the window frame. "And I'll oversee medical operations. If we're going to be seeing heavy injury counts, I'll need at least four apprentices to assist."

"I'll assign second years and volunteer alumni for support," Yaga responded.

And yet... in the corner of your mind, Geto's voice still echoed like a ghost.

"Let us freely curse each other to the death..."

Your hands clenched into fists. You could still see Yuta's face—how close Geto had gotten to him, how calm he'd seemed as he spat out genocidal delusions like it was a fucking poetry reading.

You closed your eyes and took a breath, grounding yourself in the present.

You didn't have the luxury of being emotional right now.

Not when the fate of the entire jujutsu world was now on a countdown.

December 24th.

And you'd be damned if you let that jackass have the last word.

 

⟡

 

You stood off to the side, arms crossed so tightly across your chest your nails dug into your skin through the fabric of your sleeves. The sting grounded you—barely. Not even the sterile hum of the lights above or the shuffle of papers and chairs in the strategy room could drown out the rage pounding in your skull.

Suguru Geto.

You never thought you'd hear that name in this room again.

And not like this.

You clenched your jaw, throat tight with so many words you couldn't say, and the ones you wanted to scream.

"We've officially sent a notice to the Kyoto branch," Ijichi spoke again, voice trembling just slightly as he scrolled through his tablet. "Principal Gakuganji has confirmed his arrival in two days for the joint strategy session."

You weren't even listening. Your eyes were locked onto the table, or past it—past the room, past the walls. Your mind was still stuck at the courtyard, playing it back over and over again like a broken loop.

Geto's smile. His voice. That smug, patronizing tone.

His words.

"Do you only care for her because you're a Zenin failure yourself?"

The room had gone quiet, but your mind wasn't.

You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood.

"You okay?"

The voice that cut through your spiraling thoughts was familiar. Low. Calm. Nanami.

You didn't answer at first. You just slowly exhaled, realizing only then how tightly you were wound up. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His brow was furrowed, but he didn't press. He never did. Nanami knew when to let silence speak for itself.

"I'm fine," you muttered.

"You don't look fine," Shoko chimed in from across the room, arms folded lazily as she leaned against a file cabinet. Her eyes, though half-lidded, were sharp. "You haven't blinked in, like, three minutes."

"I'm holding myself back from screaming," you answered flatly, and she didn't even flinch. She just nodded like she expected that.

"Well, don't scream. Ijichi might pass out."

"I'm right here," Ijichi said, clearly not amused.

"You're still breathing, aren't you?" Mei Mei smirked, brushing her silver hair back as she leaned over a map of Shinjuku and Kyoto laid out on the conference table.

"This is serious," Yaga snapped, voice booming and cutting through the chaos like a blade. "You all heard what he said. We're not just protecting civilians anymore—we're preparing for a fucking massacre."

You twitched at the word.

Massacre.

You didn't want to feel the sting of emotion creeping in. Not here. Not in front of everyone. You were supposed to be composed. Collected. Ruthless when necessary.

But—

You remembered when Geto wasn't someone you wanted to kill.

Back in your high school years, he used to laugh with you. Joke with you. You had been in the same class, trained together, ate lunch together, watched Gojo get detention and Shoko smoke behind the dorms.

There was a time you thought Geto was someone you'd die alongside, in a battle or otherwise.

And now here he was.

Planning a war.

Calling you a "runaway Zenin bride" like your worst memories were just fun insults to him.

You blinked hard.

"I should've burned that fucking bird alive," you muttered.

"Agreed," Gojo said beside you, arms crossed over his chest, expression unusually serious. "Ugliest damn curse I've ever seen."

There was a brief beat of silence, then a nod from Ino as he spoke up, "So what's the actual plan? If he's really got thousands of curses, plus fifty curse users—"

"Then we divide them," Kusakabe interjected. "We can't take them head-on. We'll need to lure sections of them into sealed zones."

"Easy for you to say," Mei Mei scoffed, brushing imaginary dust from her pristine glove. "You're not one of the front-line sorcerers."

"I will be if it comes down to it."

"You better be," you snapped, voice sharper than you meant.

Kusakabe looked momentarily surprised. You didn't care.

"Let's focus on what we can control right now," Nanami said, stepping toward the table and placing his hands flat against the map. "Intel, formations, and field coordination."

"We've got to prepare not only for a war of curses," Shoko added, tapping her cigarette against a tray before lighting it. "But for a war of attrition. People are going to die. We're not just fighting—they're going to throw waves at us. Geto's not stupid."

"No," you whispered, voice bitter. "He's fucking brilliant."

The silence that followed your words felt loaded. Heavy. Unspoken tension clung to the air like smoke.

"He used to fight with us," you added, almost like you were speaking to yourself. "He used to protect people. He used to care."

"And now he doesn't," Gojo cut in flatly. "You're not the only one who lost something that day."

You looked up at him. He looked exhausted. Not physically—but emotionally. Gojo Satoru rarely showed his cracks. But right now, you saw them. The loss. The guilt.

The betrayal.

"He was our friend," you whispered, voice trembling despite yourself.

"And now he's our enemy," Yaga said firmly. "And you better be ready to fight him like one."

You nodded, slowly. Your hands clenched. You weren't crying. You refused to cry. But your throat burned.

"This war isn't just about curses," Gojo added. "It's about ideology. He wants to create a world where only people like us survive. That's not justice. That's genocide."

"So we stop him," you breathed. "Whatever it takes."

You looked down at your hands. Steady. Determined.

But your heart ached.

Because somewhere, deep down, the girl you used to be—the one who stayed up late laughing with Geto and Gojo under the stars—was still mourning.

But mourning had to wait.

Now, you had to kill him.

⟡

 

Chapter 37: 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

Summary:

new chapter!! AHH,

 

 

۶ৎ

 

 

⟡

 

 

The halls of Jujutsu High were nearly silent, carved out in that tender in-between of day and night. 

The orange glow of the sunset bled through the wooden lattice windows, stretching long shadows across the polished floors. There was something sacred about this hour—something still, almost reverent. The kind of quiet that came right before the chaos.

Everyone had left. Or, more accurately, everyone else had.

They'd been deployed to their stations.

You weren't.

You were told to stay behind.

"It's not that we don't value you," Yaga had said, tone carefully neutral. "But we need someone on standby. You understand."

And you did. That wasn't the problem. You weren't naïve enough to think everyone made it back from war.

But you also weren't stupid.

You knew why they'd really asked you to stay.

Because you had a child now.

And somehow, in their eyes, that changed everything.

A liability.

Too much to lose.

Too much to protect.

You hadn't argued. You'd just nodded, lips pressed in a thin, unreadable line. The kind of nod that masked a thousand thoughts clawing their way to the surface.

Now, with your jacket half-zipped and your boots still on from when you thought—hoped—you'd be sent out, you wandered the quiet halls of Jujutsu High, hands tucked into your pockets. The place was both a home and a battlefield in your memory. You'd fought here. Slept here. Laughed here. Cried here.

And now?

Now you were just waiting.

The sun was dipping low now, its burnt amber light slanting through the wooden framework of the corridor. It cast everything in gold—so warm it almost made your teeth ache.

You turned the corner, footsteps light.

And then paused.

There was movement down the hall.

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity piqued.

Maki.

She stepped out of one of the old classrooms quietly, her usually confident steps just a little hesitant. She didn't notice you at first—her hand was raised, pressing against her chest like she was trying to calm her heartbeat. Her face...

You smirked.

She was blushing.

"Ohhh, what's this?" you called softly, just enough to make her jump slightly.

Her eyes shot to you instantly, and her expression twisted into one of minor betrayal. "Are you serious right now?"

You walked toward her slowly, arms folded and a teasing glint in your eyes. "Wow. Maki Zenin—caught in the act. Who knew you had it in you?"

"I wasn't doing anything," she muttered, brushing past you.

You, naturally, turned your head toward the classroom door she had just exited.

And there, through the several small rectangular window, you spotted him.

Yuta.

He sat at one of the desks, facing the board wall, his expression contemplative. He hadn't noticed the brief disturbance, clearly caught in his own thoughts. His sword leaned against the desk. The light from the windows framed him almost too perfectly.

You let out a low whistle.

"Ohoho... so it is true," you said, lips curling up. "You've got it bad for Yuta, huh?"

"Shut up," Maki snapped, her voice sharp but her ears still bright red. She turned away from you like that would somehow hide it.

You stepped beside her, clearly not letting it go. "No wonder you snuck out all quiet like that. What were you two doing in there, huh?"

"We were talking."

You blinked. "That's it?"

"That's it," she repeated, jaw clenched, arms crossing tightly over her chest.

You leaned a little closer, whispering, "So you have a crush on him"

She didn't answer.

Which was an answer.

You pulled back, watching her as she tried not to squirm.

"... Hm, you two would look good together..." you said, a little smile appearing on your face

Maki exhaled, not saying anything to you her face was still flushed,

You studied her face for a moment, the way her eyes flicked to the window again, almost instinctively...

You grinned softly. "Well, for what it's worth... I think he likes you back."

Maki didn't respond.

But she didn't deny it either.

A comfortable silence settled between you both for a second, broken only by the faint hum of cicadas outside and the sound of the wind brushing against the wood-panel windows.

She glanced at you again, finally.

"...Why are you still here?" she asked, quieter now. "I thought you were going with the Kyoto team."

You let out a long breath, letting your back lean against the wall. "They told me to stay."

Maki blinked, her brows knitting. "Why?"

You gave her a look.

A pause.

Then: "Because I'm a mom now."

Her face softened.

"They didn't say it outright," you added quickly, "but I'm not stupid. I know how this works. They think if something happens to me, it's not just about losing a fighter anymore. It's about a kid losing a mom."

Maki stayed quiet for a long beat.

You looked down the hallway again, the sunlight brushing your features. "They think it makes me weak."

"It doesn't," she said firmly.

You smiled—sad, tired. "Try telling them that."

"You don't have to prove anything," she continued.

"Yeah, but I want to," you said, voice just barely above a whisper. "Because I'm still me. I still have something to fight for. If anything, having a kid makes me more dangerous, not less. Because now I've got something to protect."

Maki exhaled slowly.

Maki didn't say anything for a moment, just stood there beside you, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. You knew her well enough to know that wasn't indifference—it was restraint. A kind of careful containment she'd perfected.

You didn't press her.

She finally broke the silence with a sigh. "I'm glad you're still here."

You glanced over. "Yeah?"

She shrugged. "Everyone's been acting like today's already lost. Like if they don't say it, they won't jinx it. But you being here? It feels... normal. Like the world isn't ending just yet."

You raised an eyebrow, touched despite yourself. "You getting sentimental on me, maki-moo?"

"Don't make me regret it," she muttered, but her tone was lighter.

The two of you walked slowly together, your footsteps echoing against the polished floor. Outside, the sun had dipped low enough that the golden hues were now tinged with rust and wine. That eerie kind of beautiful—like something that knew its own end was near and decided to go out in glory.

"You know," you said after a moment, "when they told me to stay, I thought I'd be furious. And I was. Still am, kind of. I hate the feeling that they see me as something fragile now."

"You're not," Maki said instantly.

You smiled. "Thanks, maki."

"But I get it," you admitted, voice softer now. "Because I also kind of like being here. I like that I get to make fun of you when you're blushing like a schoolgirl over Yuta."

"I will end you," Maki threatened, but there was no heat behind it.

You snorted. "You? You couldn't take me."

"Bite me."

The two of you turned a corner and came upon one of the common rooms—doors open, the space bathed in the last licks of sunlight. Inside, Yuta had moved from the classroom and was now sprawled out on one of the mats on the floor, his sword still beside him, a book in his hand.

He looked up as the two of you approached, eyes lighting up the second he saw Maki.

You didn't miss it. Not one bit.

"Well, well," you said, stepping inside and nudging Maki lightly. "Speak of the devil."

Yuta sat up properly, brushing a bit of hair from his face. "Hey, Y/N-san. Maki."

You offered him a lazy salute and plopped yourself down on one of the chairs near him. Maki hovered a bit more awkwardly before finally lowering herself to the desk, a noticeable distance between her and Yuta.

Coward, you thought fondly.

"What're you reading?" you asked, eyeing the cover.

Yuta turned the book around. "It's... a training manual. Old school. One of the ones Toge found in the archives."

You leaned closer. "Wow, you're such a nerd."

Yuta laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "Guilty."

Maki made a sound like she was trying not to smile.

"So," Yuta said gently, looking your way now. "They're really making you stay back?"

You nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you said. "Someone's gotta keep you kids in line."

He smiled, but you could see the guilt flickering at the edges of it. Yuta had always been too soft for this world. Power like his, and a heart like that? Dangerous combination.

Still, you liked him. Had since the moment he stepped foot in this school with those unsure eyes and that too-big sword.

"You're not going either?" you asked him.

He shook his head. "Yaga said not yet. They want me to stay here. Backup. Just in case."

Maki added, "Same."

You tilted your head, mock-gasping. "Wait. Are you two... backup together?"

"Don't start," Maki warned.

"Oh no, I've already started," you said, full grin now. "I give it three days before I'm watching your wedding from the front row."

Yuta turned pink.

Maki glared at you.

It was perfect.

 

⟡

 

The classroom is quieter now—the kind of quiet that only settles after a long, emotionally loaded conversation. Papers are scattered across the table: training notes, half-scribbled curse theory, and doodles in the margins from a bored afternoon. 

Outside the windows, the sky has shifted into a deep honey-gold, casting everything in warm, syrupy light.

You lean back in the desk chair. Your gaze is soft as it moves between the two students—no, not just students. Your kids. That's what they are now, whether you meant for that to happen or not.

Yuta sits with his back to the wall, his sword resting near his side, posture relaxed but his eyes still a little stormy from the earlier talk. Maki, ever the soldier, sits in perfect form across the table—but she's twirling a pen between her fingers now, a small crack in her usual hard shell.

You stretch your arms over your head, then let them drop with a dramatic sigh. "Alright. I'm calling it."

Maki blinks. "Calling what?"

"This sad little brooding session." You stand, slipping your arms into your jacket like it's a cape. "You two need snacks. And not just any snacks—war-time snacks. Emergency sugar. Maybe a salty chip or two."

Yuta blinks up at you, confused. "You're leaving?"

"Not leaving-leaving," you smirk, moving toward the door. "I'm going to the breakroom. If that vending machine still has those cinnamon buns in it, I'm buying all of them and hoarding them like a dragon."

Maki scoffs, but there's a slight upward twitch at the edge of her lips. "We're not five."

"Debatable," you call over your shoulder. "Yuta looked like he was about to cry five minutes ago."

"I did not!" Yuta protests, instantly going red.

"You absolutely did. It was sweet. Broody and sweet," you say as you reach the door. You pause there, hand on the frame, turning slightly to look back at them.

For a second, you don't say anything.

Then, quietly, "You guys are good kids. I'm proud of you, okay? Don't let all this... war stuff make you forget that."

Maki looks away, clearly uncomfortable with how much that hits. Yuta lowers his gaze with a small, bashful smile.

You wink. "Now behave. If either of you move from this room before I'm back, I'm making you do paperwork for the rest of the month."

The door clicks shut behind you with a soft thud, and the classroom feels just a little emptier without you in it.

 

⟡

 

The halls feel even quieter now that you've stepped out, the door closing behind you with that soft thunk. The sunlight has dimmed into that dusky blue phase of early night, where shadows deepen and the last golden rays vanish behind the trees.

 Your boots echo faintly as you walk, hands tucked into your jacket pockets, shoulders a little slouched.

You weren't lying about the snacks.

Those two deserved a break. Hell, you deserved a break.

Being left behind wasn't something you were exactly thrilled about, but if there was one upside to not being in the thick of the battlefield, it was this—these little moments. Wandering the halls like you used to. Getting dumb snacks from vending machines. 

Watching the way your kids—your students, technically, but they were yours in all the ways that mattered—still found ways to laugh, blush, and argue like normal teenagers in a world that demanded too much from them too fast.

You pass the old training room. The lights are off inside, but your eyes flick over it automatically—habit. You can still see the ghosts of your past self in there. Sparring. Bleeding. Winning. Losing. Back then, there were no thoughts of maternity leaves or leadership roles. Just raw instinct and ambition.

You snort under your breath at the contrast and keep walking.

The breakroom isn't far, tucked between two administrative offices, one of which has been locked since you were a student. You push open the slightly sticky breakroom door with your shoulder and immediately feel the air shift—it's a little cooler in here, the hum of the vending machines loud in the silence.

The fluorescent light above flickers twice before holding steady.

"Alright, cinnamon buns, don't fail me now," you murmur, already fishing a few coins from your pocket.

You step up to the ancient vending machine, eyeing the sad row of choices. A few mystery-flavored rice crackers, a lonely half-melted chocolate bar... and—yes.

Cinnamon buns.

You grin, feeding the machine the coins one by one with practiced rhythm. The machine groans like it's considering rejecting your entire existence, then clunk!—your first bun drops.

"Oh, you beautiful bastard," you whisper under your breath, grabbing it before it changes its mind.

You go again. Another cinnamon bun. A pack of spicy senbei. A honey milk drink. You figure you'll grab something salty for Maki too—she strikes you as a seaweed chips girl, even if she'll deny it.

You squat a little to reach the bottom compartment, grabbing the last of the snacks

You squat a little to reach the bottom compartment, fingers brushing the smooth plastic wrap of the last honey milk drink. You grab it, straightening up with an easy little grunt, arms full of snacks like some chaotic, sugar-loving Santa Claus.

Then—

Something feels off.

It's subtle at first, like a pressure drop. A silence behind the silence. The way your skin prickles before a storm.

You freeze, eyes flicking up.

The cursed energy hits you slow at first, like walking into a chill you didn't notice until you were already deep in it. Not the kind of cursed energy that hums around this school on a normal day—this is heavier. Intentional. Controlled.

Your body moves before your mind fully catches up. You step back from the vending machine, letting your senses spread wide. You can feel it now—pulsing from above. A veil. A fucking veil is being cast over the school.

"That bastard—" you gritted your teeth,

You turn sharply, shoving open the breakroom door and half-jogging into the hall. Your eyes dart toward the classroom—you can't see them from here, but you know Maki and Yuta felt it. Yuta's cursed energy signature is already spiking, like his instinct to protect just flipped on like a switch.

He's probably rushing to the window right now. Probably standing there with wide eyes.

Because it's him.

You break into a full run.

Your boots echo sharply against the tile as you round the corner, barely skidding to a stop at the hallway's end where you can see the western-facing windows. The sky's changed. Not gold anymore—darker. Sickly. Like the air itself has been sucked out of the horizon.

You tear down the hallway, the thudding of your boots echoing too loud in the silence. You round the last corner and shove the door open—

Yuta's there, standing by the window, his entire body rigid, eyes wide and locked on something outside. His sword is gripped tight in one hand, his cursed energy spiking like a wildfire—alive and anxious.

But Maki—

"Maki?" you ask, chest rising and falling fast.

Yuta doesn't answer right away. He's too focused. You cross the room in three long strides and grab his arm, forcing him to look at you. "Where's Maki?!"

He blinks, stunned. "She—she left. Said she was going to check it out. I told her to wait for you, but—"

Your heart drops straight to the floor.

"Fuck."

You don't even realize you're cursing aloud until the word is already flying past your lips.

She's out there. And he's out there.

Your hand trembles as you dump the snacks unceremoniously onto the desk—cinnamon buns, senbei, honey milk—all of it scattering. The sound echoes like static in your ears.

You reach for the holster at your waist and withdraw your folding war fans in one smooth, practiced motion. The weight of them in your hands centers you for just a second.

Your voice is firm, cutting through the air like steel.

"Stay here."

Yuta opens his mouth like he might argue—but the look you give him stops him cold.

"Don't move from this room unless someone you trust comes to get you. Got it?"

"Y/N—" he starts, voice tight.

You're already at the door.

"I mean it, Yuta. Don't."

Then you're gone—out in the hall again, sprinting toward the veil. The weight of your fans is comforting at your sides, but your mind is spinning, your heart clawing at your ribs with every step.

Maki was strong. Capable. But this wasn't just some random cursed spirit.

This was Suguru Geto.

And if he so much as lays a finger on her—

You push harder, faster.

You have to find her.

Before he does.

 

⟡

 

You don't hesitate.

The window doesn't even get the dignity of being opened—you leap straight through it, glass shattering into a thousand slivers around you, the sound swallowed by the pounding in your ears. You land hard on the courtyard below, knees bending to absorb the impact, and break into a sprint the second your boots hit the earth.

Your lungs burn, and your heart slams against your ribs, but none of it compares to the surge of fear flooding your bloodstream. You can feel Geto's cursed energy now. It's thick. Alive. Feral. It moves like oil across the water—slippery and wrong, like it's watching everything at once.

And then you see it.

The clearing past the training wing. The old field where you used to practice cursed technique drills.

It's a massacre.

Your steps slow on instinct, feet dragging to a halt as your eyes try to make sense of what you're seeing.

Maki is crumpled on the ground, blood smearing beneath her like paint. Her glasses are broken beside her head, her weapon nowhere in sight. She's conscious, barely—chest heaving with each shallow breath.

"Tch," you breathe, hand trembling around the hilt of your fan. "No, no no—"

A few feet away, Panda lies on his side, his furred arm shredded open. His stuffing—his essence—is exposed, threads of cursed corpse sinew tangled in the dirt like someone tried to rip the soul from a teddy bear. He looked frozen in time...

Toge is farther back. Flat on his back, his voice sealed shut by pain. A long cut streaks down his cheek, blood drying against his skin.

And standing there, at the center of it all, like the conductor of this twisted performance—

Is Suguru Geto.

His black robes flutter in the soft breeze, black hair gleaming in the half-light of the veil overhead. His expression is nothing short of elated—cheeks flushed with something too close to joy. His arms are spread wide as if inviting applause.

"Wonderful," he says, spinning slowly in place like he's on stage. "Simply wonderful. I am so incredibly touched right now."

You freeze mid-step. His voice is calm. Too calm.

"You all raced down here to save Yuta Okkotsu," Geto continues, still smiling that empty, glassy smile. "Jujutsu sorcerers sacrificing themselves for a colleague... such affection. Such admiration. Such love." He exhales in a blissed-out sigh, one hand pressed theatrically to his chest.

"This is the world I long for... all here, right before my eyes."

Your blood runs ice cold.

"Geto..." you whisper. Not to him. To yourself. To the broken image in front of you that used to be someone human.

He turns to you then, slowly—like he's been expecting you.

"Ah." His eyes brighten. "Y/N L/N. I was wondering when you'd show up. I almost thought you wouldn't come at all. You have changed."

You draw your fans out fully now, letting the metal catch the low light of the distorted sky. "What did you do..you bastard.."

He chuckles.

"They stood in my way.." He gestures toward your students—broken and bloodied. "I let them go... to fight. Isn't that what you all believe in? Growth through combat? Trial by fire?" His eyes narrow into something serpentine. "They're lucky I didn't  kill them."

Your breath catches. Your fingers grip tighter.

He sighs. "You never understood, did you? None of you did. Not even when I tried to show you. All your rules and exorcisms and sorcerer honor... still clinging to that fragile system like children afraid of the dark."

You don't answer. You're too busy looking—scanning—calculating.

You need to get them out. Fast.

"I wonder," he continues, head tilting. "Do you know how deeply Yuta values you? He speaks so fondly of you. His sweet little teacher. So nurturing. So kind. Like a second mother."

Your jaw clenches.

"Is that what this is for?" he grins. "A maternal instinct? Or is it just guilt, Y/N? Because you didn't stop me when you had the chance back then."

Something cracks in you.

The fan in your hand snaps open with a snap like a gunshot, and you raise it in front of you, channeling cursed energy through the folds.

"If you think this is about guilt," you say lowly, "you don't know me at all anymore."

"Oh, darling," Geto purrs, delighted. "But I do. I know exactly who you are. You're the same girl who stood frozen during our last mission together, aren't you? The one who hesitated."

You launch.

Your fans slicing through the air like scythes cutting down the last remnants of daylight.

Geto doesn't even flinch as he blocks the first arc with a casual twist of his hand, cursed energy crackling between you like lightning. His movements are effortless, yet every ounce of his being exudes a confidence that cuts deeper than any blade.

You duck low, pivoting sharply, the fans arcing with surgical precision, aiming straight for his throat. But he spins back with the fluid grace of a dancer, his movements so refined they're almost mockingly effortless. You miss by inches.

Then, with a swift kick, you slam your foot into his ribs mid-turn. The crack of bone reverberates through the air, and he flies backward, skidding through the dirt. But Geto lands on his feet, laughing breathlessly as he brushes the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, I missed this!" His voice rings out, sharp and wild. "Do you feel it, Y/N? That thrill? We were made for this, you and I."

Your eyes narrow, but you don't speak.

You move again.

The wind howls as you channel the cursed energy flowing through your body, the heat of it radiating off you in waves. You know this battlefield; you've felt it in your bones for lifetimes. Each flick of your wrist sends shockwaves of earth and flame. 

Geto, however, dances. Laughs. Enjoys it.

"You protect them like they're your own," he taunts, his voice echoing through the scorched earth. "Even the cursed ones. Even the ones the higher-ups call mistakes. Do you think they'd do the same for you?"

A cold fury builds inside of you, the flame rising hotter in your chest.

"Shut up," you hiss, your teeth bared as you block his cursed attacks with both fans, sparks flying.

He leans in, too close. His breath hot on your ear, his words a cutting whisper. "Then where are they now?"

A scream rips from your throat, a primal roar of rage and heartbreak. You drive your fan into the earth, unleashing your cursed technique with a fury unmatched.

Crimson Purge.

The flames burst from your fans, fiery ribbons that coil and dance like serpents, but they do not spread wildly. These are purification flames, the fire of your ancestors. The flames seek only to cleanse, to burn away the evil inside. They don't flicker aimlessly—they follow your movements with a precise and deadly grace.

A jagged wall of stone erupts from the ground, breaking the air between you and Geto. The blast knocks him back, but you don't wait. You move to Maki.

Kneeling beside her, your heart shatters at the sight of her bloodied face. "Maki, hey—hey, look at me," you whisper, voice a tremor in the chaos of the battlefield.

She groans, barely cracking open her eyes. "I messed up," she mutters, her voice weak.

"No, no, you didn't. I've got you," you say, brushing her blood-matted hair from her forehead, your hand trembling ever so slightly. "Stay awake. Stay with me."

"Panda... Toge..."

"I know. I saw them," you murmur, trying to soothe her, but your eyes are already scanning the battlefield. You flick your wrist, sending a fan-blade cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. A cursed spirit, one Geto had released during his speech, is pinned in mid-air before it can reach you.

You press your back to Maki, facing the battlefield. Geto's still standing. Still smiling.

Still waiting.

This was never about a battle.

It was a trap.

The weight of realization settles heavily on your shoulders, like the press of a thousand bricks. You glance upward toward the veil overhead, the sky a muted gray, the clouds swirling ominously.

They were lured away. All of them. The higher-ups. The strongest sorcerers. The ones who would never fall for this kind of distraction.

They're gone.

And now, it's just you.

You grit your teeth, your fingers tightening around the handles of your fans.

"I'm not done yet," you whisper to no one but yourself.

Vermillion Winds.

The flames explode from your fans once again—this time, they burn brighter, hotter, as you call upon your maximum technique.

Vermillion Storm. Suzaku Arashi.

A firestorm rages to life around you, the flames taking on the shape of a massive celestial bird—a phoenix, a Suzaku. You can feel it in your soul, this fire, this holy exorcism, like the weight of the heavens themselves descending upon the cursed.

The storm rages with the fury of a thousand burning suns, scorching everything in its path. Your heart beats in time with the rhythm of the fire, the flames responding to your every command as they whip and writhe through the air, seeking and destroying.

But even as the fire swallows the battlefield, you feel the heat it generates eating away at you, consuming your cursed energy. It burns through your body like molten lava, every inch of your skin scorched by the inferno you've unleashed.

Your senses are heightened beyond belief—every sound, every movement, every heartbeat pounding in your chest. 

The world feels like it's spinning, a chaotic blur of flames and fury.

Geto stands in the center of it, laughing maniacally, his form a silhouette against the flames.

"You think you can destroy me with your flames, Y/N?" he calls over the storm. "You and I are the same. We're both gods in this world."

Your chest tightens.

You can barely stand. You can feel the edges of your strength crumbling beneath you. The world sways, but your resolve is unbroken.

This isn't over.

You press forward, the flames surging with your anger, your sorrow, your desperation.

"Come," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. 

"Come and face me, Geto."

His grin falters for a moment, but then he takes a step forward, embracing the flames.

 

⟡

 

Chapter 38: 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧

Summary:

update, this might be the newest update in a while, i have finals, wish me good luck, but i hope u enjoy the chapter!!

 

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

"Come and face me, Geto."

 

His grin falters for a moment, but then he takes a step forward, embracing the flames.

The storm rages around him—scorching winds, holy fire, searing ash—and yet, Geto walks through it like a prophet in a vision. His robes char and smoke. His skin burns and peels, but he does not stop. The cursed energy around him pulsates, a sickening black radiance that repels your purification like oil to water.

"I admire you," he says, low and smooth, eyes wild. "Still standing. Still burning."

You raise your fans again, but your arms are trembling. Your breath hitches, and not from fear—but from exhaustion, the weight of Suzaku Arashi cracking through your bones like thunder.

The phoenix above you cries, its wings folding in, spiraling higher as it scorches cursed spirits into dust—but it can't hold much longer. Neither can you.

You stand at the eye of the inferno, chest heaving, your fans heavy in your hands, the heat making your vision blur. Sweat pours down your back beneath your scorched uniform. Every breath you take feels like you're inhaling fire.

Still—you hold your stance.

Geto emerges from the blaze, shirtless now, his chest streaked with soot and blood. The cursed energy rippling off him is nauseating. It clings to the air like oil, thick and smothering. He looks less like a man and more like a creature carved from rage and conviction.

"You should've run," he says, voice low and near-apathetic. "You had the perfect opening."

"You talk too much," you growl.

And then you move.

Your fans snap open again with a snap-CLACK, cutting the air as you launch yourself forward. The fire trails behind your every strike, dancing like ribbons of sunlight, controlled and deadly. You duck low, swipe at his legs, twist mid-air, and aim a searing arc for his chest.

He blocks with a barrier of cursed energy—but it shatters under the pressure of your flames, the impact knocking him backward.

You don't stop.

You can't stop.

Your fans are an extension of your body—spinning, slashing, guiding the fire in sharp, precise patterns. Your flames are not wild. They don't rage for the sake of chaos. They cleanse. They seek corruption and devour it whole.

Geto understands that now.

His expression hardens. "Tch."

He slams a hand to the ground, summoning a grotesque centipede-like cursed spirit, its body as wide as a train, covered in twitching legs and festering mouths. It lunges.

You leap.

Your fans whirl as you twist in the air, slicing downward in an X-arc. Flames shoot forth, embedding themselves in the creature's eyes. It screams and convulses, its body folding into itself, withering under your flames.

"Enough," Geto snarls—and now he's behind you.

You turn—

Too late.

A punch lands square in your ribs. The impact steals the air from your lungs. You feel something crack.

You reel backward, trying to recover—but he follows it with a spinning kick that catches your jaw, sending you flying across the battlefield. You crash into the cracked dirt, rolling several feet before you come to a stop.

Everything hurts. The pain radiates from your side, sharp and deep. Your fans are still in your grip—but barely.

You hear him walking toward you.

"You've improved," Geto says, breathing heavy now. "I'll give you that. You've always been strong, Y/N. But strength doesn't win wars."

You cough and spit blood. "That's funny coming from the man starting one."

He smirks. "I'm not starting it. I'm finishing it."

You push yourself to your knees, arms trembling. You can barely breathe—but you won't lie down.

He tilts his head. "You're still reaching for your fans? Even now? You can barely hold them."

You meet his eyes—one narrowed, the other fluttering with sweat. "Maybe. But I only need one strike to make it count."

That makes him pause. His expression twitches with something unfamiliar. Doubt.

And you capitalize.

You roll forward suddenly, fan sweeping up in a wide arc. He dodges—barely. The fire grazes his cheek, slicing through skin like paper. Blood spatters the ground.

But the dodge gives you the opening you needed.

You leap.

You spin in midair, gathering flame in a spiral, and aim your attack straight for his head—one, final blow.

But Geto's smile returns.

Too confident.

Your heart stutters—

And you see it—

The orb of cursed energy in his palm. Compact. Deadly.

You try to twist away.

But you're still midair.

It slams into your face before you can react.

There's no sound. No explosion.

Just white-hot pain.

Agony, instant and blinding, rips through your skull. Something tears—bursts—inside your head. Your scream dies before it ever leaves your throat. The world spirals.

And your vision—

Your vision—

Goes dark on the left side.

You hit the ground, not knowing how you landed.

Everything feels far away, like the battlefield is underwater.

Your fingers twitch. You feel blood pouring from your face. It drips onto the dirt, sticky and warm.

You try to open your left eye.

Nothing.

The world is split in half.

Your heart is pounding so loud in your ears you can barely hear his footsteps.

He's coming closer.

You try to stand—your left leg buckles. Your balance is gone. Depth perception wrecked. You're staggering, stumbling, reaching for the earth.

But you don't let go of your fans.

"Still standing?" he asks.

You don't answer.

Your jaw trembles, blood drips down your chin, your face pulsing with white agony.

"I was aiming to take your whole head off," Geto admits. "Guess I missed. Still, I'd say one eye's a fair price."

You look up at him, teeth bared, blood across your face like war paint.

"You took my eye," you whisper, voice barely audible. "You won't take anything else."

He scoffs. "That's what I always liked about you. You say these righteous little things. Even when you're about to break."

You steady your breath. One fan in your hand. The other lost somewhere behind you. Your body screams. Your head spins.

But your flame still flickers.

And you're still alive.

He extends a hand. Not to help. To finish it.

Cursed energy gathers in his palm, bright and malevolent.

And you?

You run toward it.

You duck beneath his strike, spinning into a crouch, fan dragging fire across his thigh. He shouts, stumbling, and you twist, bringing your elbow to his jaw. The force is weak, but the surprise staggers him.

Then, you drive the edge of your fan into his shoulder.

Not to kill. Not even to wound.

Just to mark him.

With flame.

It spreads instantly—charring his skin, searing through his robes. He screams, slapping at the fire, and you stagger back, panting.

This is survival now.

Not victory.

You've lost too much blood. Your eye is gone. Your cursed energy is unstable.

But you live.

And he didn't kill you.

You spit more blood, raising your fan weakly.

"I'm not done yet," you rasp.

Geto stares at you—hair scorched, shoulder burning, face bleeding.

And for a moment—just a flicker—he looks tired.

Then, slowly, he begins to laugh.

It's not mocking.

It's... impressed.

"You're something else," he says, chuckling. "A goddess in this disgusting world"

"Tch..shut up!" you yelled, 

Still, you move.

You surge forward, wind and flame spiraling around your form as you twist your body mid-air. Your fans slice the air, dragging vermillion arcs that cut deep into Geto's aura. His curses try to shield him, but they fall like straw to divine flame. You twist, flip, drive a burning kick toward his face—

He vanishes.

Your eye widen—too late.

A palm slams into your back. A violent blast of cursed energy sends you flying. You crash into the earth, your ribs screaming with the impact, blood flooding your mouth. Your fans fall from your hands, skidding across the dirt.

Above you, the storm falters.

"You can't burn me out," Geto murmurs as he descends like a god. "Your fire... it's beautiful. But it's too pure. Too righteous. The world isn't righteous, Y/N. It never was."

You try to push up—your arms buckle. Blood pours from your temple, but you still reach, dragging yourself toward your fans.

"You're stubborn. Always were," he muses, his boots crunching closer. "Do you remember when we used to argue about the nature of curses? You wanted to believe in saving people."

He kicks you in the side—you roll, gasping.

Pain splinters through your ribs, your side screaming in agony. The ground scrapes against your raw skin, your body dragging across the dirt as the impact steals whatever breath you have left.

You're bleeding. A lot.

Geto stands over you, chest rising and falling. The cursed energy still rolls off him like waves of oil, but his expression has changed.

"I wanted to free them..free you, from this hell," he says, almost tender now, like how he was with you back then. "But here we are. You, dying on a battlefield of your own making. And me... finally at peace."

You grit your teeth. "You're insane."

Geto studies your face like he's seeing you for the first time again.

And then—

"I liked you," he says.

You blink—your one eye, wide and raw, barely able to focus.

"What?" you croak.

His lips curve into something that almost looks like a smile. Not cruel. Not condescending. But real. Soft. The kind of smile you remembered from those years ago, under the sun, when you guys were still attending Jujustu High, wearing those uniforms.

"Back then," he continues, voice low, like this is a confession, not a declaration. "At Jujutsu High. I liked you. Probably since you showed up."

You stare at him, stunned.

Blood slides down your face, over your ruined eye socket. Your vision is swimming, but his voice cuts through the pain.

You hate the way your heart thuds.

You hate how weak you feel.

He's kneeling beside you now. Not touching you. But close. Too close.

"You always knew who you were," he says, still so calm. "Even when the teachers were full of shit. Even when the higher-ups tried to bury the truth. You didn't falter."

You grit your teeth. "And you think this is how you prove that?"

His eyes flicker.

"No," he admits. "But I thought maybe... if I could change the world, I'd be worthy of you."

You flinch—not from pain. From shock.

"What the fuck, Geto—"

He cuts you off.

"I know. It's stupid," he says, quietly. "I don't expect you to understand. Or forgive me. I just wanted you to know."

The words hit harder than his attacks ever did.

You remember him at seventeen. Laughing under the trees with Satoru. Shoulder-checking you after a mission and pretending it was nothing. Standing beside you in front of the vending machines, staring at your face just a little too long when he thought you weren't looking.

And now—

Now you're lying on the asphalt, bleeding from a gaping hole where your eye used to be, and he's telling you he loved you while the sky burns.

"What do you want me to say?" you rasp. "That it would've been different if you told me sooner? That you could've had me if you didn't turn into this?"

He doesn't flinch.

"I don't want anything," he replies. "I just wanted you to know before the end."

"Whose end?" you whisper, spitting blood. "Because if it's mine, you're gonna be real disappointed."

He actually laughs—quietly. Sadly.

Geto kneels beside you. His hand cups your chin.

"And you're still beautiful," he whispers. "Even like this."

You cough, chest burning, and tilt your head just enough to see him better. "Why are you saying this now?"

He's quiet for a long time.

Then—

"Because I'm tired," he says. "Because when I saw you again, standing in front of me with that look on your face... I realized I never stopped loving you. Even if I buried it beneath the blood."

You want to scream. You want to hit him. But all you can do is exist, broken and disoriented, trying to breathe.

"Don't say that," you whisper, trembling. "Not when you've done this. Not when you—when you killed people."

His voice is soft, full of sorrow, more sorrow for you. "I know. I know what I've done. And I'll keep doing it. Because I can't turn back now."

His hand reaches toward your face.

You flinch.

But he just brushes a blood-soaked strand of hair from your cheek, gentle, reverent.

"You're still beautiful," he says. "Even like this."

Your lip quivers.

You hate that a part of you—some stupid, wounded, teenage fragment—wants to believe him.

"You're disgusting," you breathe.

He nods.

 Doesn't argue.

Then silence.

Just the crackle of distant flames, the heavy hum of cursed energy flickering through the air.

Your body twitches in pain. You can't feel your left hand. You wonder if your ribs are broken. You wonder if you'll die here.

And still—

You asked, 

"Did it ever... could it have been real? Us?"

He looks at you like the question cuts deeper than any blade.

"Yes," he says. "In another world."

A tear slips from your remaining eye.

You don't know if it's from grief, rage, or the unbearable weight of knowing. Maybe in some version of this story, he kissed you beneath the stars. Held your hand during mission briefings. Whispered about futures where neither of you had to fight when he wasn't insane.

But this isn't that story.

You spit blood in his face.

This is war.

He blinks, wipes it away, then calmly grabs one of your fans from the pavement.

"I always did hate these things," he mutters.

Snap.

He breaks the first one in two.

Something inside you shatters.

 Not just your weapon. 

Not just your heart. 

But your connection to the Suzaku—the ancestral flame passed down from warrior to warrior. You scream a ragged cry of agony, as the firestorm flickers like a dying candle.

And then you hear it—

 

"Rise"

'Huh'

a familiar voice resonated in you..no the fas, your right eye immediately looked at it, hinoka..

The spirit of the fan. 

The origin. 

She was always there, inside the flames, 

in the soul of your cursed technique...

 

"Your soul is not extinguished, Y/N. Not while your heart still burns."

 

Your remaining fan glows in the distance, pulsing. You reach for it, every nerve screaming.

Geto turns just in time to see you move.

Faster than before.

Faster than him.

You grab the second fan, swing it upward, and scar his cheek with a streak of white-hot flame. The blessed fire licks across his face like divine judgment. He stumbles back, screaming—and now it's you rising.

Your left eye—gone. Burned, blinded in the blast from his earlier attack. Blood trails from the socket, staining your skin. But your right eye blazes like the sun. Your soul isn't gone.

It's reigniting.

The last of your cursed energy flares—hot, blinding. 

A flash of fire blooms from your fan like a phoenix's final cry.

It explodes between you, catching him off guard. He stumbles back, cursed energy whipping up to shield himself. You roll in the opposite direction, teeth clenched against the agony in your bones.

You don't stop.

You can't.

You may be broken, bleeding, half-blind—but you're not done.

And you won't die with his name on your lips.

 

"Tamashii no Honor."

 

The fire returns—not as a storm, but as a pulse, a rhythmic thrum from your soul. No Grand Phoenix this time. No holy bird. Just you.

Your flames wrap around your body like armor—elegant, radiant. Like a dance of mourning and rage.

You leap.

Geto's curses flood toward you—he summons dozens now, one after another, desperation in his eyes. But none of them reach you. Your fan cuts through cursed techniques like silk, burning their energy out before they touch your skin.

You twist through the air, carving arcs of flame with every spin. Your legs slam into his shoulders, your fan across his chest. He counters with a blast of cursed energy—you burn it away.

He swings at your head—you duck,

"You can't win!" he bellows.

"I don't need to win," you say, voice raw. 

"I just need to stop you."

You raise your fan once more, flame swirling in tight, intricate spirals—the Scarlet Fan Dance.

Each movement is sharper now, laced with pain and legacy. You're not fighting alone anymore. Hinoka moves with you. Every turn, every slash, every wave of your arm—is a memory.

The curses fall like ash.

But Geto—

He doesn't stop either.

Wielding a mass of compressed cursed energy, he lunges at you like a beast.

It collides.

You scream as the energy rips through your side, flinging you across the clearing. You tumble, bones cracking, your final fan landing beside you.

You can't stand it anymore.

Geto approaches, grinning like a psycho, his robes burnt, his body bruised and burnt.

"This is the ends now," he says.

Geto's voice is cracked—just like the rest of him. His robes hang in scorched tatters, his skin laced with cuts and blackened burns from your flame techniques. 

He thinks this is it.

You try to push yourself up.

But your arms tremble.

Your vision fades in and out, your left eye still just a gaping, weeping socket. 

Your breath won't come easy. Your body is failing—your side is torn open, blood pooling beneath you. The heat of your own cursed technique still clings to your skin like smoke.

You reach—shaking—for your final fan.

Your fingers brush the handle, slick with blood.

Geto steps over the wreckage, dragging his foot through the ash and char of his destroyed summons.

"You could've had a different ending," he says. "You could've stood beside me. All that fire, wasted on these pathetic ideals."

You laugh. It's a short, cracked sound—half sob, half defiance.

"Funny," you mutter. 

"That's what they said about you."

He tilts his head.

But before he can answer, a voice breaks through the battlefield—

"Y/N!!!"

huh.

Your head jerks toward the sound, disoriented.

A blur of white and blue is racing across the field. You squint past the haze, blinking furiously as your body sways.

Is that—

Yuta.

His cursed energy crashes in like a wave. Wild. Terrified. His voice cracks again as he calls your name, sprinting toward you with reckless abandon.

"Y/N—!"

Your lips part slightly.

You see him, clear enough to know it's really him.

His face is twisted in horror as he sees the blood, sees your collapsed frame on the pavement, your eye gone, your fan fallen just inches from your grasp.

Your body trembles once more.

You try to say something. To raise a hand. To tell him to get back, to run—because Geto's still standing behind you, cursed energy curling in his palm.

But your strength is gone.

Your voice fails you.

You blink once more.

The battlefield begins to tilt.

And then—

 

Darkness.

 

Chapter 39: 𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫

Summary:

UPDATED, SORRY FOR THE UPDATE MY EXAM GOT PUSHED BACK SO YAY UPDATE

 

 

 

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

 

 

The sky was still bleeding.

It dripped low over the western edge of Jujutsu High, torn open in a deep, ruptured bloom of violet and blood-red. The air hung thick with smoke and silence. A silence that wasn't peaceful—no, it was the kind that came after screaming. After buildings fell and names were shouted like last prayers.

The ground looked like it had been peeled back by the hand of something godless. Craters gaped in the courtyard. Trees had been leveled. Concrete was nothing more than fractured bone. Wooden beams jutted out from the wreckage like ribs. Steel was twisted and charred, and the acrid scent of scorched cursed energy still clung to the rubble.

Fire still burned in the east building—small, stubborn embers refusing to die out. A final act of defiance from a battlefield that had seen too much.

And in the middle of it—

A sound.

Soft. Barely there.

Footsteps.

Boots crunching over shattered stone, slow and deliberate.

You stirred.

Your body didn't cooperate at first. A low, shuddering gasp caught in your chest, dry and paper-thin. Your lashes fluttered open. Light pierced into you like needles, sharp and unrelenting.

Everything ached. Every inch of you was screaming.

Your side was soaked and sticky—blood, probably. The kind of wound you didn't look at if you wanted to stay conscious. One of your legs felt numb. Your ribs were tight, cracked maybe, and there was a throbbing behind your left eye that made it hard to think. That eye didn't see anything anymore. Just a blur of red and pain.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

And then realized—

You weren't on the ground.

You were moving.

Arms. Strong. Unshaking.

Not death. Not floating. Not the void.

Alive.

Barely.

You tilted your head, slow and heavy, god, your head was killing you.

White.

It was the first thing you registered. A mess of white strands falling into your line of sight. Then skin, not ashen by dust, untouched by smudges of blood. And beneath all that, a face you'd know even in a nightmare.

Gojo.

No blindfold.

Just him. Raw and real.

Your throat fought to work. "S–Satoru...?"

He didn't answer.

Didn't even flinch.

His jaw was set like granite. His mouth—normally drawn into some smug, too-pretty grin—was a firm, unreadable line. But it was his eyes that struck you.

That vivid blue was different now. Dimmer. No glint. No shine. Just weight.

Something inside them had gone quiet.

He didn't look at you.

Didn't speak.

Just walked, steady and slow, through the wreckage. The world could have been burning around him, and he wouldn't have stopped.

But his grip on you...

Too tight.

Not crushing—but too tight for someone who usually carried everything like it was weightless. There was a tremble in his hands, subtle but there. A restraint, desperate and buried under layers of control.

He was shaking, and barely anyone would have noticed.

Except you.

Something was terrifying about his silence. Like rage hadn't peaked yet. Like grief was stuck in his throat, trying to claw its way out.

You watched him step over what used to be the wall of the courtyard. The bricks were dust. Smoke coiled low around his legs. Ash floated upward, soft and slow, like snow trying to fall the wrong way.

His fingers flexed beneath your spine.

You inhaled weakly. "Satoru..."

Still nothing.

Just that clenched jaw. Just the sound of his boots against the broken ground. You could see more of him now—the state of him.

His uniform untouched.

His face was strangely blank.

But there was pressure beneath it—like something was pressing against the inside of him, cracking his ribs from within.

You didn't know whether to be afraid or touched.

"...Why are you mad?" you whispered.

He stopped walking.

Just for a beat.

Then slowly, he tilted his head down—his eyes finally meeting yours.

And for one moment, one breath, he broke.

Just a flicker.

But enough.

His eyes dropped to the slash across your abdomen. Your fingers were twitching as if they were still trying to finish the fight. To the bandage on your face, already soaked with red.

He stared.

"You weren't supposed to fight him."

Your lips parted, but no words came. He said it again, quieter, sharper.

"You weren't supposed to fight him. That wasn't your job."

You blinked. "There wasn't a choice. I—"

"There was," he snapped—still soft, but his voice cracked like a whip. "There was. You could've waited. You could've stayed back."

"I would've died," you said. "Yuta would've—"

"I almost lost you."

The words were quiet. Cracked.

They didn't sound like his.

They sounded like they slipped out.

He didn't look at you when he said them. He kept moving. Past the ruin, past the still-smoking doors. But something shifted in his hold—he curled you in closer, tighter, his arm locked around your shoulders now like he thought you'd fall apart if he let go.

"...Don't do that again," he murmured after a while. "Don't make me see you like this again."

You blinked, throat tightening. The wind picked up, tossing smoke and debris into the air. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.

You looked up at him, your body trembling from exhaustion.

"You really are dramatic," you rasped.

He didn't answer.

Just kept walking.

You rested your head lightly against his shoulder, breath coming in shallow pulls. You weren't even sure where he was going.

Probably a hospital,

"You still look kinda handsome like this," you muttered eventually.

His lip twitched.

"Don't flirt with me when you're covered in blood," he grumbled.

"Too late."

Silence followed.

And then—finally—he stopped.

And then, soft, quiet—he pressed his forehead to yours.

No words. Just touch.

Just the feeling of him, breathing hard. Warm.

Still here.

You exhaled, eyes fluttering closed.

⟡

The room was too white.

Sterile and cold. The kind of white that made you feel like you didn't belong there. It wasn't the first time you'd woken up in a hospital bed, but it was the first time the silence around you felt so loud.

Machines beeped slowly. A heart monitor—yours, probably. Steady. Dull. An IV pumped fluids into your arm. The curtains were drawn, muting the daylight into a foggy glow.

You blinked once. Then again.

Pain greeted you, slow and familiar.

Your ribs ached. Your leg twinged. Your head pulsed, especially around your left eye. You reached up, slowly, fingers brushing the bandages there. They'd changed them recently. The linen smelled clean. Too clean.

You took a deep breath—and coughed. A jagged sound, rough enough to wake the ache in your lungs again. You grimaced. Sat back against the pillows.

"Don't push yourself."

The voice came from the corner of the room.

You turned your head slightly. And there he was.

Satoru Gojo.

Still in the same wrinkled clothes from that day. Shirt sleeves pushed up. His hair flattened on one side from where he must've been sleeping in the chair. A disposable coffee cup balanced dangerously on the windowsill beside him. But his eyes were wide open.

Watching you.

He looked exhausted. But there was something in his face—relief, maybe. Or maybe he was just stunned you were still here.

"...How long?" your voice cracked.

"Four days," he said softly. "You were out. Healing. You stabilized after the second surgery."

You blinked slowly. "And the eye?"

He hesitated.

"Gone," he said finally. "But they did what they could."

You didn't react at first. Just nodded, your jaw tightening.

Gojo leaned forward. "Don't—"

"I can fix it," you said, before he could finish. "Eventually. If I use enough cursed energy and reverse it carefully..."

"You shouldn't be thinking about that right now."

"But I am."

Silence.

He sighed, leaned back again. His hands were curled loosely on his knees. "You never stop, do you?"

"I don't know how."

You both fell quiet again.

It wasn't until hours later, maybe near dusk, when the door finally creaked open.

"Y/N?"

The voice was familiar—steady, warm.

Maki.

She stepped into the room with a bouquet of black-and-purple flowers in her hand, half-wrapped in brown paper. Behind her came Panda, ducking under the doorframe with an apologetic grin, and Toge trailing quietly, carrying a small bag.

Maki's sharp eyes scanned the room. She didn't miss Gojo in the corner. Her mouth twitched. "Still here, huh?"

Gojo didn't even lift his head. "Didn't feel like leaving."

Maki gave a tight nod before turning to you.

"You look like shit," she said bluntly.

"Thanks," you rasped.

She set the flowers in the vase on the table by your bed. "We brought you snacks. Toge insisted on soup."

"Salmon," Toge said quietly, holding up a thermos with a hopeful smile.

You managed a weak laugh. It hurt, but it was worth it.

"Thanks, guys..."

Panda plopped down on the foot of your bed gently. "We've been by a few times. They wouldn't let us in the first two days. Said you were 'unstable.'"

"I'm always unstable," you deadpanned.

"That's what I said," Panda grinned.

They didn't stay long. Just long enough to squeeze your hand, make you smile, remind you that you were still here. Still one of them.

Still you.

And after they left, the quiet returned.

Gojo hadn't moved. He'd gone still again, eyes half-lidded now, watching the twilight paint shadows across the wall.

You looked at him, really looked.

His hands were twitching again.

You didn't ask if he'd slept.

...

On the tenth day, you heard it.

Small footsteps. Rapid. Eager.

Then—

"Mama?!"

You barely had time to react before a blur of dark curls and soft limbs launched itself into your arms.

Ichiro.

He climbed into your bed without hesitation, burying his face into your neck. You winced from the jolt, but held him tighter, tears already slipping from your good eye.

"Oh baby..."

He sniffled. "You were gone. Everyone said you were sleeping, but I was scared—"

"I know, I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry..."

He pulled back, eyes glossy. "Uncle Satoru brought me here. He said you needed me."

You blinked past the stinging in your throat and glanced at Gojo, who stood by the door now, hands in his pockets, watching you both.

His mouth curled, soft and small.

"I figured he'd be better for healing than soup," he muttered.

You laughed—wet and grateful.

Ichiro curled against your side, his tiny hand resting over the bandage on your stomach.

"You're not gonna go away again, right?"

You kissed the crown of his head. "I'll do everything I can not to."

And you meant it.

Some hours passed, and Ichiro had fallen asleep in your arms and been gently carried out by Shoko herself. Gojo sat back down in the chair beside you.

He looked at you for a long time.

No smile. No teasing.

Just quiet.

"You're getting better," he said softly.

You looked down at your hand.

"Trying."

He nodded. "You shouldn't have fought him."

You didn't answer.

"You almost died."

"I know."

Gojo ran a hand through his hair. "Do you even realize what that would've done to me? To Ichiro?"

"I wasn't thinking about that. I...i just saw maki..toge..panda just there, like unconscious on the floor, and that bastard...fuck" you cursed, you felt like crying again.

The silence between you twisted again.

Then—

"I'm not mad anymore," he said quietly. "Just scared of losing you"

You turned to him.

He was watching you like he wasn't sure you were real.

"I don't think I know how to exist in a world where you're not breathing."

You exhaled shakily.

"Satoru..."

He leaned forward, reached out, and gently brushed a thumb over your cheek.

"You should rest up, hm?"

𝜗𝜚

The next morning was quiet.

No machines beeping, no nurses fussing. The stillness was so soft, it almost made you think the world had stopped spinning for a moment.

Gojo had stepped out briefly—finally convinced by Shoko to go change and get something to eat. You suspected she threatened to sedate him if he didn't. You couldn't hear exactly what she said, but the way his jaw locked and the way he stomped out like a sulky teenager? Yeah. That was pure Shoko pressure.

So you were alone again.

The door creaked open just enough to let a figure slide in, silent and hesitant.

You turned your head.

And there he was.

Yuta.

Standing awkwardly in the doorway with a small box in his hands. His uniform jacket was wrinkled, and his eyes looked tired, but not the kind of tired from lack of sleep. The kind of tired that came from seeing too much.

"Hey..." he said, voice quiet. "Can I come in?"

You sat up slightly, careful of your stitches. "Of course."

He walked in slowly, like the air in the room was too heavy to breathe in all at once. He set the box down on the small table beside your bed.

"I brought your favorite candy," he said with a soft smile. "I got the king-size version of it, I..remembered um..that you said you prefer the king size to the regular ones..."

You chuckled weakly. "You remembered."

"Of course I did."

Silence wrapped around the room again like a thick blanket.

He sat down in the chair Gojo had occupied earlier, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked at you for a long time. His eyes didn't wander. They stayed locked on your face.

"Yuta..." you started, "I heard you fought him."

His mouth twitched, but he didn't smile.

"I did," he said. "We fought for a long time. He... he was different. Stronger. Angrier. But I was angry too."

He looked down at his hands,

"I beat him back, even did a pact with Rika..."

'Rika...'

He raised his eyes again, and there it was.

Haunted.

"I saw you on the ground. I thought—" His voice cracked. He swallowed. "I thought you were dead."

Your breath hitched.

"I ran... I screamed your name. I don't think I've ever screamed like that before. Not even when—" He stopped himself. Gritted his teeth. "You were so still. Covered in blood. You were bleeding out right there and I—" His voice broke completely, and he looked away.

You didn't speak. You couldn't. Not yet.

Yuta took a shaky breath.

"I thought I'd lost you."

The room pulsed with quiet pain. The kind that doesn't need to be loud to be devastating.

You reached out with your fingers—slow, careful, and took his hand.

"You didn't lose me."

"I almost did," he whispered. "That's enough."

You squeezed his hand.

"I'm sorry," you said, voice low.

Yuta shook his head. "Don't apologize. You saved them..."

You looked at him. "You did too."

He gave a small, sad laugh. "Yeah, but I didn't almost die doing it."

You smiled faintly. "That's cause you're smarter."

Then he stood slowly, gently placing your hand back on the bed.

"I just wanted to see you," he said. "I've been... waiting. Wondering. I just needed to know that you were still you."

You gave him a soft nod. "I'm still me. Just... a little broken. But healing."

He lingered at the door, hand on the knob.

"You're a lot of things, Y/N. But you're not broken. Not to me."

And then he was gone.

You stared at the door long after he left.

And when Gojo came back with a paper cup full of terrible vending machine coffee and a bag of chips, he caught the look on your face.

"Who was it?" he asked casually, settling back into his chair with a sigh.

"Yuta."

Gojo glanced at you. Studied your face for a beat too long.

"You okay?"

You nodded slowly. "He just... he saw me."

Gojo didn't ask what that meant.

He knew.

Because he had seen you too—curled in a pool of your own blood, bones shattered, breath stuttering. And now he saw you here, bandaged and bruised, holding yourself together piece by piece.

He leaned back, tossing his chips on the side table, and exhaled.

"Yuta's a good kid."

"He's not a kid anymore."

Gojo gave you a sideways glance. "Yeah. None of us are, huh?"

You didn't reply.

Instead, you reached up, touched your temple again, and let that cursed energy flow.

The flicker of reverse technique danced in your fingertips.

It wasn't perfect.

It wasn't enough.

But it was progress.

Gojo saw it.

"Still pushing yourself?"

You gave him a crooked smile. "You love that about me."

He smirked. "Yeah. Unfortunately."

Then, softer,

"I don't think I could ever love someone who didn't fight like hell."

And in that quiet, white hospital room—

Then—

You laughed. Though it hurt. So, so much.

۶ৎ

 

Chapter 40: 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

⟡

 

 

 

 

 

ACT TWO COMPLETE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

loading...

 

 

 

 

 

ACT THREE

 

 

 

 

 

 

> start

 

 

 

 

 

 

⟡

 

 

Chapter 41: news

 

'

 

۶ৎ

 

⟡

 

modern-day - 2018

.

 

You cracked your knuckles and stretched your arms. You let out a dramatic yawn before slumping back in your chair. It was finally quiet again, and the chaos of the students was replaced by silence,

You sighed, teaching teenagers was awful—you felt bad for Yaga when he was mentoring you,

'I couldn't be that annoying,' you muttered, but you shrugged.

Leaning back again, glancing at the window, watching the warm glow of the late afternoon sun stretching across the school ground, the school didn't change one bit since you were a student.

—Then suddenly the door slid open, interrupting your well-earned moment of peace

"Oi, sensei"

You turned your head to see Megumi standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, looking as unimpressed as ever. "Fushiguro!" you grinned, propping your feet up on your desk,

"What's up? You miss me already, already wanting to change mentor—you know I'm so—"

"Gojo said you were sulking alone in here," He gave you a flat look as he said.

You felt your eye twitching, "That little—" you exhaled sharply, forcing a smile, "I am not sulking, thanks for checking on me, though."

Megumi raised a brow at you, he didn't believe you at all.

"You're staring out of the windows, and talking to yourself," he pointed to you,

"Pretty sure that counts as sulking," he finishes,

"Wow, What is this 'bully your sensei' day?" you huffed, crossing your arms,

"It's Thursday."

You looked back at him, squinting, "And?"

He ignored you. "He also said you owe him dinner."

You snap your head to him, your face twisting in shock, "I—what?!?"

Megumi tapped his finger on his cheek, "He said, 'Tell Y/N to bring her wallet—something about you owing him from dragging you out of your mid-life crisis, and that yeah, that too,' he finishes,

Your eye twitched, "I'm going to kill him, I swear."

Megumi shrugged, "Most people want to..."

You sighed dramatically, pushing yourself up from your chair, your heels hitting the floor, "Fine, but I'm making him pay next time." You shot him a smirk, and he just looked at you.

"Okay"

 

⟡

 

 

Your bag was already slung over one shoulder, the other hand tapping away on your phone as you walked down the hallway, heels clacking softly against the polished floor. The last warm rays of the afternoon sun filtered through the long corridor windows, bathing everything in honeyed gold. You weren't even trying to hide the tired smirk on your face.

...

 

You:  On my way. He better have eaten all his broccoli, Hana.

A second later, your screen lit up.

Hana: He tried to feed it to the cat again.

Hana: Also said he wants to be a sorcerer like mommy  :)

Hana: We're watching that nature show you hate. I told him bedtime is by 9.

 

...

 

 

You chuckled, affection blooming in your chest. Ichiro, your son, was your entire world—and somehow the only thing grounding you between the chaos of teenage sorcerers and... Satoru Gojo.

Your thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, and you typed back:

You: Tell him, Mommy is stuck with the tallest menace alive. Love you both. <3

You hit send and pocketed your phone just in time to turn the corner—and nearly crash into that exact menace.

"Oh! Speaking of the devil," you said, catching your balance.

There he was.

Gojo, right in front of you.. You almost groaned.

Leaning against the vending machine like he was posing for a fashion campaign, long legs crossed at the ankles, hands deep in the pockets of his navy coat, stupid smile already tugging at his lips.

"Tallest menace?" he echoed playfully, "I feel so honored."

You sighed. "Do you just wait for me to be vulnerable before you pounce?"

"I wouldn't call sulking vulnerable. But it was cute."

You squinted. "I wasn't sulking."

"You were definitely sulking. Window, chin on hand, wistful look... all you needed was a dramatic soundtrack," he teased, now fully walking beside you as you both headed toward the gates of Jujutsu High.

You rolled your eyes and adjusted your bag. "How do you even find the time to spy on me when you're so busy being obnoxious everywhere else?"

Gojo let out a dramatic gasp. "Obnoxious? Me? I'm beloved."

"Infamous."

"Infamous is just famous with spice."

You snorted despite yourself. "That's not even—never mind."

He was impossible. Always had been. The most ridiculous charm you'd ever witnessed. Somehow, it only got worse with age. 

"Megumi told me you were coming to collect on a dinner debt I don't actually remember owing you," you said, eyeing him as you walked.

"Oh, you owe me alright," Gojo drawled, nudging your arm with a smug grin.

"Remember last month? I had to practically save you from embarrassing yourself while you were so drunk."

You felt your cheeks heating up, "So...I was drinking, you know that..."

"Mh?" Gojo mused, his obnoxious smile spreading across your face.

"Just shut up," You rolled your eyes, 

Gojo deadpanned. "You crouched. You hissed at Shoko. You knocked over the fern."

"...Okay .. maybe I had too many drinks that night "

"Exactly. I saved you. You owe me your life."

You flipped your hair. "That's way too dramatic..."

"Besides, you threw me over your shoulder and dragged me out."  You pursed your lips, 

You tossed him a look,  "Besides, I deserve to get a little blackout drunk, with Ichiro and everything else."

Gojo's teasing faded slightly, replaced with that rare softness you hated loving. "I know. How's Ichiro?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "...He's good. He started painting. Said he's making me a sword out of macaroni."

He grinned. "That's either adorable or deeply threatening. Possibly both."

"Yep. My son is either the next Picasso or the next final boss. I'm fine with either."

You walked in comfortable silence toward the gate, evening light painting the world gold and lilac. Gojo bumped his shoulder into yours.

"So? What's the vibe? Fancy five-star dinner, or ramen shop where the menu's half grease and the other half vibes?"

You eyed him. "Ramen. But only because I'm wearing heels and can't walk in them much longer."

He smirked. "My treat."

You smirked back. "It better be. I don't split bills with men who weaponize my digestive system as an alibi."

 

⟡ ⟡ ⟡

 

Wait.

This was not the ramen shop.

You blinked as the valet opened your car door, and you stepped out onto marble steps lined with lanterns and literal koi fish swimming in a glass tank built into the floor.

The restaurant was the kind of place with velvet curtains, champagne flutes already set out, and soft jazz playing from some corner you couldn't quite locate. 

You turned to Gojo. "Satoru. Where the hell are we."

"New ramen place. Super exclusive. Hidden menu. Totally chill."

"You asshole. This isn't ramen. This is luxury sushi that got lost and wandered into heaven."

"I'd never. I'm trying to hydrate you with overpriced cocktails and distract you with ambiance. Also, they have a chocolate soufflé the size of your head."

He looked smug. "You deserve it."

"...Fine. But I'm ordering the most expensive thing on the menu out of spite."

"You always do," he said, entirely unbothered, holding the door for you like a smug chauffeur. "It's one of your most charming traits."

You stepped inside and immediately felt underdressed and over-gorgeous, which was honestly your brand.

Seated in a private booth with ambient lighting and sparkling water so fancy it probably had its own passport, you kicked off your heels again, sighing dramatically. Gojo, across from you, sipped his cocktail like a housewife on vacation.

You stared at the chandeliers, the piano music, the woman in a Givenchy pantsuit ordering sea urchin in French.

You looked at him suspiciously. "What did you do. Who did you kill. Why are you feeding me like a kept woman?"

He pulled out your chair for you and winked. "I'm buttering you up."

You narrowed your eyes. "For what?"

The footsteps of one of the waiters already pouring a glass of wine for Gojo, like he's been here before, probably have been, before Gojo picked it up.

He smirked into his glass. "New student coming tomorrow."

You blinked. "You don't usually take me out to dinner when there's a new student. I mean, unless he's secretly your long-lost son or cursed royalty or something."

Gojo tapped a finger to his lips. "Not my son. But cursed royalty? Funny you say that."

You lowered your menu. "What did you do?"

He looked way too casual for your comfort. "Megumi found a kid during one of his missions to some high school out in the sticks."

Your brow twitched. "And?"

"He 4ate one of Sukuna's fingers."

You froze. Blinked once. "He what?"

Gojo took a sip, completely calm. Ate it. Whole. Like a spicy snack."

"...A what?"

"I mean, I assume it was spicy. It was a thousand-year-old mummified finger."

You slammed your menu down. "Are you on drugs?"

Gojo beamed. "Not currently!"

"Did you—Satoru, how does a child accidentally eat a cursed object?!"

"I'm still trying to piece that together myself. Honestly? Respect. That takes commitment."

You stared at him, dumbfounded. "You're telling me there is a teenager somewhere in Tokyo who has a piece of Sukuna the Slaughter King living inside him like he's the world's worst Kinder Egg—"

"And he's moving in tomorrow. Room right beside Megumi."

"Oh my god."

"Don't worry, I've got it under control."

"You've never had a single thing under control in your life."

"I have you," he said, giving you the most insufferable wink.

You nearly launched your water glass at his face. "You're lucky  I'm not in the mood to cause a scene."

"You're lucky I rented out the entire floor."

You inhaled deeply, massaged your temples. "I hate you."

"You say that every time I tell you something mildly apocalyptic."

"MILDLY?! SATORU—HE ATE A FINGER."

"He has a strong stomach! He's fine. Mostly."

You slid out of the booth, cracked your knuckles. "I'm about to be mildly apocalyptic if you don't explain exactly how this happened before I throw you off the balcony."

Gojo stood, hands raised like a surrendering hostage, smiling far too brightly. "Okay, okay—long story short: Megumi found him, there were curses, finger got eaten, now he's Sukuna's vessel."

You stared at him.

He grinned wider. "...So what are we thinking? Espresso martini or crème brûlée?"

You grabbed the napkin from your lap and chucked it square at his smug face. "I hope Sukuna bites you next."

Gojo caught it midair. "He already tried! We're bonding!"

"You're insane."

"And you're still here. Which is kind of romantic, if you think about it."

You glared. Then sighed.

And then, like clockwork, the waiter arrived with your dessert, and Gojo—still infuriating, still unbothered—leaned forward with that spark in his eyes.

"You're gonna love the kid, by the way. His name's Yuuji."

You gave him a long, tired stare.

Then picked up your spoon. "If I end up cursed because of you, I'm haunting your stupid six-foot corpse."

Gojo raised his glass. "Then at least I'll never be lonely."

You couldn't stop the grin that pulled at your lips—annoyed, exasperated, but fond.

You were definitely going to punch him later.

Maybe twice.

But not before dessert.

 

⟡

 

"Let me get this straight," you said, halfway through your dessert now, eyes burning a hole through Gojo's head. "You've decided to let a random boy—who ate a cursed object, might I remind you—move into Jujutsu Tech. Because why not, I guess."

Gojo, fork hanging loosely between two fingers, nodded. "Essentially."

"You're an idiot."

"And yet, I'm irresistible."

"You're an idiot with a God complex."

He tapped a finger to his temple. "Six Eyes, baby."

You took a long, slow bite of your crème brûlée. It was good, like really good. But not good enough to cancel out the headache building behind your eyes.

"So. Yuuji. Sukuna's vessel. Megumi found him, you said?"

Gojo nodded, finally setting down his fork, but only so he could lean back and rest his long arms along the back of the booth like the insufferable bastard he was. "Well, yeah, technically, during Megumi's mission to find that one special grade object, he somehow found him, and now we're here.  You know Megumi, he's about as subtle as a haunted refrigerator."

You raised an eyebrow. "That's not a real metaphor."

"It is now," he said brightly. "Anyway. Kid's got talent. Spirit energy compatibility was off the charts. But more importantly, he's got this insane moral compass. Reminds me of someone."

"Don't say it."

"You."

You stared at him flatly. "Satoru, I'm still not letting you hit."

Gojo choked on his water.

"Not now," you added smugly, swirling your drink. "Not again. Not ever. In that order."

He recovered quickly, grinning like a man who just found a new button to push. "You're just saying that because you know if you gave me one more chance—"

"I'd curse your entire bloodline."

He let out a low whistle. "God, you're hot when you threaten me."

You pointed your spoon at him. "Keep talking and I'll make it literal."

Gojo rested his chin on his hand, clearly delighted. "See, this is why we worked so well. You keep me humble."

You rolled your eyes. "No one has ever kept you humble in your entire life."

"You do," he said, like it was obvious. "In the most emotionally abusive way hm.."

You raised your glass. "And yet you keep coming back."

He grinned. "Because you love me."

You held his gaze for a long beat. "Because no one else is stupid enough to deal with your bullshit."

"That too."

You didn't respond right away. You just stared at him—Gojo Satoru, strongest sorcerer alive, the same man who never took anything seriously until suddenly everything was serious, and it was always too late for anyone else to do anything about it.

Eventually, you asked, "Are you sure about this kid?"

Gojo leaned forward, expression uncharacteristically sincere. "I'm sure."

Well, that was new.

You narrowed your eyes. "Do not look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're about to do something noble and stupid."

He gasped, clutching his chest. "I would never."

You kicked him under the table. "You do it all the time. You act like a clown, make me feel bad for wanting to strangle you, and then guilt me into helping you with your ridiculous half-baked schemes."

"And yet, they always work," he said cheerfully.

"They work because I clean up after you."

"And I love you for that," he said with another wink.

You downed the rest of your drink in one go. "You are so lucky I'm off-duty tonight."

Gojo checked his watch dramatically. "Only for another three hours. Then I fully expect you to be terrifying and borderline illegal again."

"I hate you."

"I'm your favorite person."

Unfortunately, he wasn't wrong.

 

۶ৎ

 

 

Chapter 42: 𝐯essel

 

 

 

۶ৎ

 

 

⟡ 

 

 

.

 

You stepped out onto the field, taking off your glasses, and turned your head to the center of the field.

You were here because of  Gojo, and he ensured that no one else scheduled training for this hour. You suspected it was because he wanted you to meet the boy alone, no distractions.

You were already bored.

"Alright," you clapped, the sound echoing through the field, putting your sunglasses on your head.

 "Which one of you is harboring a mass-murdering curse?"

Across the field, two boys turned.

Megumi gave you a flat look. Yuuji blinked once, then twice.

"...Me?" he offered, raising his hand up.

You tilted your head. "You don't look possessed." You pointed to the pink-haired boy,

"I get that a lot," Yuuji said sheepishly. "I'm  Yuuji Itadori. I ate a cursed finger," He bowed down, exclaiming with a big smile, your eyes twitched. 

How the hell is this guy the vessel? He's too adorable....

You stared.

Megumi sighed. "He keeps introducing himself that way."

You glanced between them, then smiled. "And this doesn't concern you?"

"I gave up trying to make him normal," Megumi muttered.

Yuuji smiled. It was wide, warm, sincere—the kind of smile that made you deeply uncomfortable because it meant he didn't fully understand the weight of what was inside him yet.

And then—of course—he showed up.

A sudden shift in the air, a lazy crackle of cursed energy.

Gojo appeared behind you, slinging an arm around your shoulders,  his hands dangerously near your tits.

"Yuuji, meet the only woman I've ever loved who hasn't tried to kill me—yet."

You elbowed him in the ribs.

"Okay," he wheezed, "maybe a little."

You shrugged his arm off. "You sure this is the boy?"

"This is the boy. Sukuna's vessel." He beamed at Yuuji. "Don't be nervous—she bites, but only when provoked."

Yuuji looked mildly alarmed.

"I don't bite at all, Gojo." You narrowed your eyes before softening them when they land on Yuuji.

Megumi looked away like he didn't hear that.

Gojo was practically glowing. "You're making such a good impression."

"I wasn't trying to."

"You never are. That's the charm."

You stepped forward, eyeing Yuuji. He didn't shift under your stare, but he did look nervous. You could see it in the way his fingers twitched, the tension in his shoulders. He was trying hard not to mess up.

Which meant he knew this wasn't normal. That his situation was beyond repair. And still, he stood there, in front of you.

"Show me," you said.

Yuuji blinked. "Show you...?"

"Sukuna. Let me see him."

"Hm, go ahead, Yuuji, show her."

Yuuji hesitated. "Are you sure? He's kind of—"

"Let him out," you repeated.

Gojo just smiled.

Yuuji exhaled slowly. "Okay... Just for a second, alright?"

You nodded once.

Yuuji closed his eyes.

And then everything shifted.

The warmth vanished.

His spine straightened, jaw sharpened, eyes snapped open—red and slitted, tattoo appearing on his face, eyes changed to something ancient.

Sukuna.

"Ah," he drawled, his voice shifted, deeper, more ancient.  "And what do we have here?"

You stared at him. He looked you up and down, tongue slowly running across his teeth.

"You must be the pretty one Gojo's always talking about," Sukuna sneered.

You didn't blink. "And you must be the rotting corpse squatting inside a child."

Sukuna stilled.

Gojo grinned like a child on Christmas morning.

"...Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

Sukuna's grin widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're awfully confident for someone standing in front of me."

"And you're awfully chatty for someone who's old."

Gojo wheezed.

Megumi looked like he wanted to disappear.

Sukuna twitched. "You really are brave, wench?"

 "Really?" You shot back, sarcastically.

Then, 

Sukuna just laughed. Loud and sharp and mocking. "I like her. She's got teeth."

"Funny," you said, cool and unbothered, crossing your arms.

Yuuji's face suddenly contorted, and with a gasp, he wrenched control back, panting.

You just sighed,  

"Noted," you muttered. 

"He's an asshole."

Yuuji looked shaken. "I'm sorry—he usually doesn't get that aggressive, I think he just—"

"I'm not talking to you," you said gently, "You're fine."

Yuuji's shoulders dropped a little.

Gojo stepped beside you, hands in his pockets, tone light. "So. Thoughts? Notes? Cursed Yelp review?"

You didn't look at him. "You're insane for letting him live here."

"But—"

"But I get it." You sighed, finally glancing back at the kid. "He's dumb, but he's brave. And if he can keep that thing on a leash..."

Yuuji perked up.

"...Then he might actually be worth the nightmare you've dumped on my plate."

Gojo smirked. "Told you you'd like him."

"I don't like him."

"You do."

"I tolerate him."

"Which is your version of love?"

You turned to him slowly. "Satoru, if you don't shut up—"

"What?" He gave you the smuggest, most punchable grin in the world. "You gonna punish me in front of the kids?"

You inhaled slowly. "You wish, pervert."

He blinked. "I do, actually."

Megumi walked away.

Yuuji watched him go, then looked back at you and Gojo. "Are... are you two dating?"

You and Gojo spoke at the same time.

"No."

"Yes."

You glared.

Gojo winked.

Yuuji looked alarmed.

You sighed, finally massaging your temples. "God, I miss the curses. At least they don't flirt."

Gojo leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. "You miss me."

You raised your voice. "Megumi! Get back here before I launch your teacher into the sun!"

From down the path, Megumi didn't even flinch. "Please do."

 

. . .

 

The next day, it was still chaotic. Gojo somehow convinced and dragged you as he rambled on about the last and final first year that was coming to Jujustu Tech. You didn't know why you even let him drag you here,

You didn't really care, but Gojo had that stupid pretty smile and a way of talking that got people to just... go with it. That, and he'd bribed you with your favorite boba. But you weren't alone. I mean, Megumi and Yuuji were here too.

And now you were leaning against one of the rails, busy on your phone as you waited. You didn't know where Gojo went, but you were stuck with Megumi and Yuuji again. 

Figures, 

"How are there only three first years? That's practically nothing," Yuuji speaks up, as he ate some ice cream he got from a convenience store.

"Think about... can you honestly say ever met someone else who can see curses?" 

"Hmm...I guess not."

"... Because Jujustu sorcerers are rare.."

"Didn't you say I was in the third year?"

"The other admission must have been decided a while ago..you know how are school like, everyone has unique circumstances " Megumi finishes, 

You glanced up from your phone with a lazy, exaggerated sigh, letting your body lean further into the rail as you dramatically rolled your eyes. "Ughhh, you guys are like sooo depressing," you complained, voice lilting and teasing, your lashes fluttering a bit as you raised a brow. "Shouldn't you be excited or something? It's a new student! Like, what if they're hot? Or mysterious? Or rich?"

Yuuji blinked at you, his cheeks faintly pink. "...Are those the only options?"

"I mean," you smirked, "they're the fun ones."

Megumi visibly exhaled, looking like he regretted his life choices. "You realize this is a cursed high school, right? 

You gave him a sweet, condescending smile. "Oh, Megumi. Just because you lack imagination doesn't mean we have to suffer too."

Yuuji laughed, already warming up to your chaos. "Now that you mention it, I am curious."

"Sorry for the wait, ohoh, your uniform made it on time!" You turned your head to see Gojo waltzing it with that stupid blindhold on. 

"Yeah, it fits great, but I notice it's slightly different than Fushigiros,  it has a hoodie, too", Yuuji said, picking up his red hoodie with golden buttons on it.

"That's because the uniform can be customized upon request," Gojo said, with a smile on his face.

"Huh, but I never put in any request."

"You're right, I was the one who put in a customized order."

"Huh, well, cool."

"Be careful, Gojo has a habit of doing that kind of stuff," Megumi deadpanned, with the same blank expression on his face.

"Yeah, last time Gojo made a uniform order for me..." you began, trailing off as your eyes narrowed into a squint "...it somehow showed up two sizes too small. It was suspiciously tight."

Yuuji blinked, blinking again as his gaze flicked to your chest and then immediately back up—face flushing bright red.

You turned to glare at Gojo, your tone sweet. "And don't even get me started on the neckline. Bastard made the neckline plunge so low, you could have seen anything."

Gojo, unfazed and grinning ear to ear, wiggled his fingers playfully. "Fashion is expression, Y/N-chan~ I thought you'd appreciate a little flair."

You looked him dead in the face. "You made the chest part tighter. I had to wear a jacket all week."

"It was tasteful," Gojo said proudly, hands on his hips. "Elegant, even. Like a work of art!"

"Oh, shut up," you muttered, crossing your arms.

Megumi gave a tired sigh. "He does this. Don't encourage him."

"I'm not encouraging him," you said, voice rising an octave. "I'm simply just threatening him."

Gojo gasped. "Threats? From you? How cruel."

"Keep changing my uniforms without asking, and you're gonna find your blindfold mysteriously full of glitter and cursed perfume," you shot back, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger.

Megumi just sighs, "Why are we even meeting up here at Harajuku?"

"Because that's what she asked for," Gojo responded with a big smile.

"Hm," You put your hand under your chin, thinking, then there's a bit of commotion happening, 

'Huh'

Then you turn, and sure enough—there's a girl, right in the middle of the sidewalk, one hand clamped around the collar of some salaryman's cheap suit like she's reeling in a particularly stubborn fish.

"Listen up, old man," she declares, her voice so sharp it slices through the clamor of the street. "I'm asking you what you think about me?"

The guy sputters, glancing around like he's hoping someone—anyone—will rescue him. His knees are bent in mid-flight, but he can't quite shake her iron grip, "PLEASE LET ME GO!"

You feel your eyebrows inch up your forehead.

"Wait, she's the one we're supposed to talk to.. this is really embarrassing.." Yuuji said, holding on to a bunch of stuff as you waited for the final first year, as you four looked at the scene.

"Tch, yeah, so are you," Megumi muttered, 

"This is going to be interesting," You tapped your finger under your chin,

"Hey! We're over here!" Gojo exclaimed,

"Oh damn, what up with hat blindfold" You heard the mystery girl exclaimed, you almost started laughing there, damn she might been your favorite first year already.

This is going to be some semester... 

 

۶ৎ

 

Chapter 43: hammer

Summary:

SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT OMG I WENT TO ITALY GUYS AND I HAD TO STUDY FOR MY SUMMER STUFF AHHHH!!! BUT I UPDATED!!

 

 

۶ৎ

 

 

⟡

 

.

 

You stared at the girl standing in front of you, tilting your head slightly. She had a confidence to her—chin up, hand on her hip, mouth already running.

 

You slowly uncrossed your arms, one manicured brow raising. More girls at this school? Honestly, that was refreshing. You were getting tired of hearing the boys argue over vending machine drinks and curse technique pissing contests. A little estrogen in the building? Yes, please.

 

You and the others were loitering around the dusty corner by the infamous 400 yen lockers—old, beat-up things half-covered in doodles and curse repellent seals someone slapped on as a joke. It was unofficially hangout-slash-intro spot number three according to Gojo.

 

"Okay, right—" Gojo began with a swing of his arm like he was introducing the next J-Pop idol, "I'd like you to meet—"

 

"Nobara Kugisaki," the girl cut him off, voice sharp and sugary, "You should be honored, boys."

 

She gave a dramatic flip of her hair, then cocked a hip. "And I'm your group's girl."

Oh.

 

This was Nobara Kugisaki, huh?

Interesting.

 

You gave her a once-over, just observing. Cute style. Confident walk. Loud voice. You could work with that.

Then she just... stared.

 

STAREEEEEEE.

You blinked.

 

"Oh, uh—I'm Yuuji Itadori! From Sendai!" Yuuji chirped, pointing at himself with that signature sunshine smile.

"Fushiguro," Megumi added dryly, eyes flicking away like he was already over it.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

 

Nobara sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. "This is what I end up with? Great. Just my luck." She folded her arms with a pout.

Yuuji leaned toward you and whispered, "She took one look at us and sighed. That can't be good, right?"

 

You shrugged, lips quirking. "Mmm... tragic," you said lightly, brushing lint off your chest like this wasn't your circus.

Megumi gave you a flat look. "Are we going somewhere from here or is Gojo just winging it again?"

That made you smirk. "Oh, gumi. You know the answer to that."

 

Gojo just laughed, "Now that we've got all three of you together—and since two of you country bumpkins just set foot in civilization for the first time..."

"Hey!" Yuuji whined.

 

"That means," Gojo announced with jazz hands, "We're going to Tokyo."

 

Your eyes flicked to him with a dry hum. "You mean you're dragging us somewhere in Tokyo for a 'learning experience' that probably ends with property damage."

He just smiled wider.

With no warning, both Nobara and Yuuji screamed:

"TOKYO!"

 

And they jumped—literally leapt into Gojo like children on sugar highs, wrapping him in an enthusiastic hug. He staggered a bit, laughing with zero shame.

You sipped your tea—mentally, anyway—and watched him soak in the attention like the overgrown golden retriever he was.

Megumi remained beside you, silent. His soul left his body the second Nobara opened her mouth.

"TDO! I WANT TO GO TO TDO!" Nobara squealed, eyes sparkling.

 

Yuuji blinked. "Tdo? Isn't that in, like, Chiba?"

 

"Let's go to Chinatown instead!" he said quickly, throwing up a weird kung fu pose like this was Rush Hour 4.

You arched a brow. "Chinatown is in Yokohama, sweetheart."

"It is?!" he blinked at you.

 

"Yeah, genius," Megumi deadpanned, "Try a map."

"Well—Yokohama's basically Tokyo!" Yuuji argued, waving his arms dramatically. "It's like, attached!"

"No, it's not—are you dumb?" Nobara snapped.

"Yes! No! Wait—!"

 

They started bickering again, now waving their arms at each other like badly animated NPCs. You idly leaned your weight to one side, watching like you were being paid.

"This feels like babysitting," you murmured to Megumi.

 

"Feels?" he echoed, staring blankly ahead. "This is babysitting."

 

Gojo clapped his hands suddenly. "Alright, alright! Quiet down! I haven't even told you the destination yet."

That smug look on his face?

 

Dangerous.

 

Yuuji and Nobara immediately straightened up and bowed with synchronized 'yes sensei' energy like they hadn't just been fighting over geography.

Gojo grinned, eyes glinting behind those dumb blindfolds.

 

"...Roppongi."

There was a beat of silence.

 

Then—

"ROPPONGI?!" they screamed, perfectly in sync.

"WE'RE GOING CLUBBING?!" Nobara shouted, practically shaking Yuuji by the shoulders.

"LET'S GO LET'S GO I NEED A NEW FIT," Yuuji howled.

 

"Wait—what do you wear in Roppongi?!" Nobara panicked, already pulling out her phone.

Megumi blinked. "You're... kidding."

 

You hummed again, a smile creeping onto your lips. "I bet this ends with at least one of us banned from a high-end bar. Two if Gojo tries to dance."

Gojo pouted, "Excuse me, I have amazing rhythm."

 

...

 

Turns out he lied,

You were all staring at some cursed warehouse or home that was just stinking of cursed energy around the place. You weren't sure if you should have laughed or just stayed quiet. The air was thick with cursed energy, the kind that clung to your skin and left a taste of rust in your mouth.

 

"So...this is Roppongi, huh, Gojo..." You said it out flatly,

"There's a curse here..." Megumi muttered, already narrowing his eyes at the building. You just nodded, turning to Yuji and Nobara, who were dumbfounded.

"YOU LIAR!!"

And chaos just began,

 

"THIS is Roppongi?!"

"THIS IS A CRUEL MOVE WITH COUNTRY FOLK!!" Nobara’s voice cracked halfway through her rant.

You had to bite down on your laughing that was creeping up, but Gojo just ignored their bantering, 

"There big cemetery nearby, that...plus an abandoned building and you got a curse..." Gojo said..

"So they pop up often near a grave?" Yuji asked, 

 

You hummed softly in thought.

 

"No, it's not the cemetery itself, it's just that people associate the cemetery with fear and uneasiness," Megumi responded, turning to him.

"Right... it was the same for school too, right?"

"That's correct, Yuji," You said, clapping your hands together with a smile. 

 

"Wait, hold up, he didn't even know that yet?!"

The realization smacked you so hard you almost facepalmed on the spot. You were dealing with someone who had literally swallowed a Special Grade cursed object without knowing the basics of jujutsu sorcery.

"HE SWALLOWED A SPECIAL GRADE CURSED OBJECT?!?! GROSS—that's so unsanitary and disgusting, I want to hurl!" Nobara exclaimed, backing away from Yuji, with a look of disgust etched on her face.

"That's not nice!" Yuji exclaimed back,

 

"I agree with her,"  Megumi added on,

"I mean, it is gross. " You just shrugged, 

"You too, Y/n-sensei!?" 

 

"I want to know what the three of you are capable of, just think of this as a type of feel test. Nobara and Yuji, you go exorcise the curse inside the building." Gojo cut in, waving his hand, looking up at the building before looking at the group.

"Hold on, I thought only curses could exorcise curses. I can't use jujustu yet," Yuji piqued.

 

"If you look at it, you're half a curse already, curse energy flows through your body. Although controlling that energy isn't something you can learn overnight, use this—the slaughter demon, a weapon imbued with cursed energy so it will work on curses too."  Gojo handed Yuji a short dagger,

 

Your eye twitched. That weapon looked very familiar. "Gojo… where did you get that?" you asked, pointing at the blade.

"Don’t worry about it, Y/N." He smirked, and you swore a shiver went down your spine.

 

Nobara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, how lame." She strode toward the building without waiting for anyone else.

Yuji hesitated, but Gojo’s grin was practically shoving him forward.

 

"Oh, wait—don’t let Sukuna out, okay?" Gojo called lazily. "If you use him, you’ll get rid of all the curses in the area… but anyone nearby will get dragged in too."

"Would you hurry that up?" Nobara’s voice echoed from ahead.

 

"Alright, alright!" Yuji called after her.

"Have fun~," Gojo sang-songed, waving with that infuriatingly smug smile plastered on his face.

You just stared at them walking into the abandoned building, your hand in your pockets as you just sighed, rubbing your hand over your face. 

 

"So.. Gojo, he didn't know any of that information at all." You turned to him, your eyes practically twitching.

"What? He was a quick learner; besides, they are fine." He waved off as he started walking off You followed him and Megumi away from the building.

"You're not serious.."

 

"I am," He smirked. 

You stared at him for a beat longer than necessary, mostly because you were contemplating whether homicide counted as exorcising a curse if the “curse” was just Gojo’s personality.

Megumi had already started walking as well, his expression as flat as the asphalt under your feet. No eye contact, no comment—just that quiet, simmering disapproval he seemed to carry everywhere.

With a roll of your shoulders, you followed. 

 

“So, let me get this straight,” you said finally, breaking the silence. “You threw an untrained kid who swallowed a Special Grade object into a building with a curse, armed him with a knife you stole, and just… assumed he’d be fine.”

Gojo didn’t even look back. “Mhm.”

 

“That’s insane.”

“That’s teaching.”

“That’s lazy.”

 

“It’s called ‘hands-on experience,’ Y/N. Try it sometime.” He tilted his head just enough to flash you that smug grin over his shoulder, his white hair catching the dying light like it was mocking you, too.

You sucked in a sharp breath, let it out slowly. 

Megumi finally spoke up, voice even but edged with exasperation. “You’re wasting your time arguing. He’s not going to change his methods.”

“I noticed,” you muttered, side-eyeing Gojo.

 

The three of you kept walking, your boots crunching over gravel that had spilled onto the street from the broken sidewalk. The buildings here were old—some leaning slightly, their glassless windows staring blankly at the street like hollow eyes. A flicker of movement caught your attention in the corner of your vision, but when you turned your head, it was only a curtain swaying in the breeze.

 

Gojo slowed as you reached a crossroad. “Here’s fine,” he said suddenly, scanning the surrounding area.

“Here?” you repeated, raising a brow. It was… not exactly scenic. It was some abandoned bus stop with the traffic cones still there, and the poles were just a concrete block left

 

“Somewhere nearby, but not too close,” he clarified, already stepping toward the lot. “If the curse gets loose, but I doubt it."

Megumi gave a small nod and followed without question. You hesitated, glancing back in the direction of the warehouse. It was far enough now that you could barely make out the jagged silhouette against the sunset. The idea of leaving two students—one of them utterly clueless—inside with a curse while you sat around… didn’t exactly feel responsible, but it was the mom brain, you bit your lip.

 

Then again, this was Gojo’s idea of a lesson. And whether you liked it or not, the man was maddeningly effective.

You sighed through your nose and stepped into the lot. The ground was uneven, with patches of wild grass poking up through cracked cement. Gojo sat on one of the cement blocks, his blindfold catching a streak of light from the last golden sliver of sun.

 

Megumi sat on one of the blocks, 

You stayed standing for a moment, scanning the area out of habit. The air here was clearer, still tinged with the faint metallic taste of cursed energy drifting from the warehouse, but it was distant enough not to press against your skin.

Finally, you dropped onto a patch of low concrete, stretching your legs out in front of you.

“Could’ve at least picked a spot with chairs,” you muttered.

 

Gojo tilted his head toward you, a grin audible in his voice. “Oh? Want me to make you one?”

You didn’t even look at him. 

“Don’t you dare," you sighed out,

 

A minute slipped by in quiet, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable, but still hummed faintly with the occasional rustle of weeds swaying in the breeze, filling the silence, along with the faint hum of the city far beyond this forgotten street.

You reached into your pocket, fingers brushing past loose change until they found the familiar shape of your cigarette pack. One slid easily between your lips, the dry paper soft against your mouth. Your lighter clicked once, twice, before a small flame flared to life, warm against your face. You cupped it instinctively to block the wind, the tiny hiss of burning tobacco filling your ears as you inhaled.

 

The smoke curled up in slow, lazy ribbons, trailing into the cool air. The first exhale was steady, slipping out through your nose in twin streams.

"I think I'll go in too," Megumi muttered suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet like a small crack in glass.

"Hm?" You turned to Megumi before blowing smoke out through your nose..

 

"Don't push yourself, you're still recovering," Gojo responded, turning to Megumi.

 

He didn’t flinch at the reminder, just kept his gaze steady. “But someone has to keep an eye on Itadori, right?”

"True, but the one we're testing this time around is Nobara..."Gojo said, turning his attention toward you.

 "Y/N, I thought you were quiet. Gojo frowns, turning to you fully, 

 

You huffed, eyes half-lidded as you took another drag before answering. “I do. Only when I’m anxious.”

Gojo tilted his head, as if weighing whether to tease you about it or leave it alone. His lips quirked faintly under the blindfold, but he just said nothing else.

 

۶ৎ