Sukuna, the king of curses

Hiro and Itadori lay sprawled on the soft grass, their chests heaving from the exertion of their intense physical training session. The cool night breeze caressed their sweat-slicked skin, providing a welcome respite from the heat of their workout. Above them, the vast expanse of the night sky stretched out like an endless canvas, dotted with countless twinkling stars.

Itadori turned his head, his gaze settling on Hiro's profile. "Senpai, can I ask you something?" he ventured, his voice soft and hesitant.

Hiro, his eyes still fixed on the celestial display above, nodded. "What's on your mind?"

Itadori took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Well, I was wondering... why did you become a sorcerer?"

Hiro reached for his water bottle, taking a long swig before shrugging his shoulders. "I was born with this power, so it's what I do."

Itadori frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. "Everyone seems to give that answer. Kugisaki says she does it for the money. Maybe I'm the one who's got it wrong."

Hiro rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. "Why did you become a sorcerer, Itadori?"

Itadori's eyes lit up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "To save as many people as I can, and maybe... to have a dignified death."

Hiro chuckled, shaking his head. "You're mistaken, Itadori."

Itadori blinked, confusion written across his face.

Hiro's expression softened, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "You're a sorcerer because you don't have a choice. But you choose to use your power for a noble cause. That's admirable."

Itadori's smile widened, a sense of relief washing over him. "Maybe you're right."

Hiro sat up, his gaze distant and thoughtful. "Do you know why my name is Hiro?"

Itadori shook his head, curiosity shining in his eyes.

Hiro's lips curved into a wistful smile. "It's because it sounds similar to 'hero.' My mother gave me that name. She wanted me to be super strong and save others. And for a while, that's what I did. Back when I lived in New York, I fought curses and sometimes even criminals at night. But if I'm being honest, I didn't do it to be a hero or anything. I just found it... fun."

Itadori nodded, his expression one of understanding. "And now, what do you use your power for?"

Hiro's gaze returned to the stars, his voice barely above a whisper. "To protect. To protect the people I care about."

Itadori's smile widened, a sense of kinship blossoming in his chest. "You know, Senpai, we don't think all that differently."

Hiro laughed, pushing himself to his feet. "Maybe you're right. But as I said, I'm no hero."

Itadori stood up, brushing the grass from his pants. "Well, in a way, we do protect people from curses. Maybe we are heroes, in a sense."

Hiro's smile turned contemplative. "Maybe. Just maybe."

After his conversation with Itadori, Hiro returned to his own room. Maki, who was engrossed in a book, looked up as he entered. "What's up?" she asked, her eyebrow arched in curiosity.

Hiro grinned, flopping down on the bed beside her. "Nothing, really. It's just that kid, Itadori. He got me thinking."

Maki set her book aside, her interest piqued. "About what?"

Hiro's expression turned pensive. "About how to use my power."

Maki sighed, a hint of concern in her voice. "Well, you always say it's to protect others. Most sorcerers don't really think about that. But let me tell you something, Hiro. In this world, ideals only lead to an early grave. I don't say this to you because you're strong. You can handle whatever comes your way. But Itadori... if he keeps thinking like that, it'll be the death of him."

Hiro rolled onto his side, his arm draping across Maki's waist. "Yeah, but I'll be there to protect him. I'm a good senpai, after all."

Maki arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Didn't you ask Fushiguro to carry your things yesterday?"

But Hiro was already fast asleep, or at least pretending to be. Maki shook her head, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Idiot," she murmured, her voice filled with affection.

The next morning, the shrill ringing of Hiro's cell phone jolted him awake. He fumbled for the device, his voice thick with sleep as he answered. "Hello? What's up?"

On the other end of the line, Ijichi's voice crackled through the speaker. "Mr. Hiro, I apologize for waking you, but we need your help. A grade 1 curse has appeared, and Gojo is unavailable. He's out of town."

Hiro groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What about Nanami?"

Ijichi's voice was apologetic. "He's on another mission."

Hiro sighed, his frustration mounting. "And Mei Mei?"

Ijichi hesitated before responding. "She charges too much."

Hiro ran a hand through his tousled hair, resignation settling in his chest. "Fine. I'll handle it."

Ijichi's relief was palpable. "Thank you, Mr. Hiro. I'll send you the location via text message."

Hiro ended the call, tossing his phone onto the bed. Maki, who had been listening to the conversation, sat up, her brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on?"

Hiro swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his uniform. "They need me."

Maki watched as he dressed, her eyes following his every movement. "Where are you going?"

Hiro checked his phone, a scowl etching itself onto his features. "Another damn city. It's going to take all day."

Maki's lips curved into a playful smile. "Well, I guess I'll have some time to myself then."

Hiro rolled his eyes, a wry grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Ha ha, very funny."

As he finished dressing, Hiro couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach. Grade 1 curses were no joke, and the fact that Gojo was unavailable only added to his concern. But he was a sorcerer, and this was his duty. He would face whatever challenges lay ahead with the same unwavering determination and skill that had earned him the nickname "Golden Lightning."

Maki, sensing his apprehension, reached out and took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his. "Be careful out there, okay?" she said softly, her eyes searching his.

Hiro nodded, squeezing her hand in reassurance. "Always am."

With a final kiss, Hiro grabbed his bag and headed out the door, ready to face whatever dangers awaited him. As he made his way through the still-quiet halls of the school, his mind wandered back to his conversation with Itadori the night before.

Maybe the kid was right. Maybe, in their own way, they were heroes. Not the cape-wearing, spotlight-seeking kind, but the kind who fought in the shadows, protecting the innocent from the horrors that lurked just beyond the veil of normalcy.

And as he stepped out into the early morning light, Hiro couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and purpose swelling in his chest. He was a sorcerer, a warrior against the darkness. And he would fight until his last breath to keep the people he loved safe.

*Content warning: This story contains some descriptions of violence and gore.*

Kugisaki, Itadori, and Fushiguro stood gathered outside the Eishu Detention Center, their expressions grim as they surveyed the imposing structure before them. The sky above was a leaden gray, heavy with the promise of rain. Ijichi, his face lined with worry, approached the trio, his steps hurried and urgent.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," he said, his voice strained with tension.

Fushiguro, his hands tucked into his pockets, regarded Ijichi with a cool, appraising gaze. "It's unusual for us to be summoned on such short notice. What's going on?"

Ijichi's shoulders slumped, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "A cursed womb has appeared inside the detention center."

Itadori, his brow furrowed in confusion, turned to Fushiguro. "Cursed womb? What's that?"

Fushiguro, his expression serious, explained, "It's essentially a womb that can give birth to a special grade curse."

Kugisaki, her arms crossed over her chest, interjected, "Isn't it dangerous for us to go in there? What if the curse is born while we're inside? Wouldn't it be better to send Gojo-sensei or Miller-senpai?"

Ijichi shook his head, his expression apologetic. "Both of them are currently occupied with other matters. Besides, this situation is sudden, and the higher-ups have requested that you three handle it. Everyone else is tied up at the moment."

Fushiguro, his mind already racing with possibilities, asked, "What's the plan, then?"

Ijichi pulled out a small, handheld device, its screen glowing with a map of the detention center. "There are a few people trapped inside. Your mission is to rescue them. Mr. Gojo or Mr. Hiro will deal with the cursed womb later."

Itadori, his head tilted to the side, questioned, "Why do you call Miller-senpai 'Mr. Hiro'?"

Fushiguro, a hint of amusement in his voice, replied, "Because he's an arrogant bastard who threatened Ijichi into addressing him that way."

Itadori's eyes widened, a mixture of admiration and disbelief on his face. "Every day, I get a different impression of him."

Kugisaki, her patience wearing thin, snapped, "Can we get a move on, please? We don't have all day."

The trio nodded, their faces set with determination as they entered the detention center. Ijichi lifted the veil, his heart heavy with worry as he watched them disappear into the depths of the building.

Moments later, Ijichi's phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. He answered, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "Mr. Hiro, I'm glad you called."

On the other end of the line, Hiro's voice crackled with static. "I just finished dealing with the curse. I'm on the train, heading back home now."

Ijichi, his relief palpable, replied, "That's excellent news, Mr. Hiro. Actually, there's something I need to ask of you."

Hiro's sigh was audible through the phone. "What is it?"

Ijichi, his voice hesitant, explained, "A cursed womb has appeared at the Eishu Detention Center. Could you come and take care of it?"

There was a moment of silence before Hiro responded, his voice tight with tension. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Ijichi, his gratitude evident, said, "Thank you, Mr. Hiro. At the moment, the first-years are inside on a rescue mission."

Hiro's reaction was explosive, his voice rising to a shout. "WHAT?! WHY THE HELL DID YOU SEND THE FIRST-YEARS IN THERE? WHAT WILL THEY DO IF THE CURSE IS BORN?"

Ijichi, his voice trembling, stammered, "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Hiro. I was just following orders from the higher-ups."

Hiro's frustration was palpable, his words clipped and angry. "Those fat cats... I'll be there soon. Tell them to get out, now!"

The call ended abruptly, leaving Ijichi staring at his phone, his heart pounding in his chest. He quickly dialed Fushiguro's number, his fingers shaking as he punched in the digits.

But the call wouldn't connect. Ijichi tried again and again, each failed attempt sending a fresh wave of panic coursing through his veins. He paced back and forth, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

___________

Fushiguro stood in the backyard of the detention center, his heart pounding in his chest. Itadori had told him to leave, assuring him that he would handle the special grade curse on his own. As Fushiguro could no longer sense the curse's presence, he thought that everything would be alright.

It was a grave mistake.

Behind him, a figure materialized, its aura dark and oppressive. Fushiguro whirled around, his eyes widening in shock and fear as he recognized the unmistakable form of Sukuna, the King of Curses.

Sukuna, his voice dripping with mock reassurance, said, "Relax, kid. I'm in a good mood, and I just want to talk."

Fushiguro, his heart hammering in his chest, demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Sukuna, his expression bored and disinterested, replied, "The brat can't take control of this body again. That's what he gets for trying to take advantage of me without making a binding contract."

He paused, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "And I was just thinking about what I could do with this body."

With a casual, almost nonchalant movement, Sukuna reached into his own chest and tore out his heart. Fushiguro's eyes widened in horror as he watched the pulsating organ, still beating, in Sukuna's clawed hand.

Sukuna, his voice filled with cruel amusement, said, "I don't need a heart to live. But the brat does. If he tries to switch bodies with me again, he'll die. You could say I have him as a hostage."

Fushiguro's mind raced, desperately trying to find a way out of this nightmarish situation. Itadori couldn't return to his body, but Sukuna could use the reverse ritual to restore his heart. If Fushiguro could push Sukuna to his limits, force him to use up his cursed energy, perhaps he would have to regenerate his heart, giving Itadori a chance to regain control.

With a fierce cry, Fushiguro summoned his shikigami, the ghostly figures materializing around him in a swirl of cursed energy. They lunged at Sukuna, their spectral claws and fangs bared, ready to tear the King of Curses apart.

But Sukuna was too fast, too powerful. He dodged and weaved, his movements a blur of speed and grace, as he tore through Fushiguro's shikigami like they were made of paper. One by one, they fell, their forms dissolving into wisps of cursed energy, until only Fushiguro remained, panting and exhausted.

Sukuna, his voice filled with mocking praise, said, "You have an interesting technique. I'll give you credit for that."

Fushiguro, his jaw clenched tight, came to a sudden stop. He knew he had one last chance, one final trump card to play. He began to gather his cursed energy, preparing to summon his most powerful shikigami, Mahoraga.

Sukuna, sensing the surge of power, grinned, his eyes glinting with malicious glee.

But just as Fushiguro was about to release his ultimate technique, a figure appeared behind him, a hand coming to rest on his head. Fushiguro froze, his heart leaping into his throat, before he recognized the familiar voice of Hiro Miller.

"What's the situation?" Hiro asked, his tone calm and controlled, belying the tension that thrummed through his body.

Fushiguro, his voice shaking with a mixture of relief and fear, replied, "Long story short, it seems Sukuna ate a third finger. Itadori hasn't been able to regain control of his body, and Sukuna tore out his own heart to prevent Itadori from switching back. I wanted to force him to regenerate his heart, so I was trying to push him to his limits. But he's too strong."

Hiro's gaze shifted to Sukuna, his eyes widening as he saw the gaping hole in the King of Curses' chest. A wave of fury washed over him, his cursed energy crackling.

"Listen up, asshole," Hiro snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll give you to the count of three to regenerate that heart, or I'll wipe the floor with you."

Sukuna, his smile widening, said, "Well, this is unexpected. I didn't think you'd be here, Hiro Miller."

"One," Hiro counted, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes fixed on Sukuna with unwavering intensity.

Sukuna, a wicked smile spreading across his face, said, "You were on my list of people to fight when I regained full control of my body."

"Two," Hiro continued, his fists clenching tight, his body poised and ready for action.

Sukuna, his tone mocking, mused, "I wonder if three of my fingers will be enough, Hiro Miller."

"Three," Hiro finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before Sukuna could react, Hiro was upon him, his fist slamming into the King of Curses' stomach with devastating force. The air rushed from Sukuna's lungs, blood spurting from his mouth as he was sent skidding backward, his feet carving deep furrows in the earth.

Sukuna, his eyes wide with shock and pain, spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. But even as he did so, a wild, ecstatic grin spread across his face. "This is wonderful," he cackled, his voice filled with manic glee. "A user of the Six Eyes, a user of the Ten Shadows technique, and now you. This generation is brimming with top-tier sorcerers."

Sukuna shifted his stance, his claws flexing in anticipation. "Let's see how you fare," he snarled, his voice dripping with malice.

Hiro lunged forward again, his body a blur of motion and power. But Sukuna was ready for him, sidestepping the attack with inhuman speed and grace. His fist lashed out, catching Hiro in the liver with a sickening crunch.

Hiro's face contorted in pain, but he didn't falter. Instead, he formed a small, crackling sphere of electricity in his palm and hurled it at Sukuna, the attack tearing a gaping hole in the King of Curses' stomach.

Sukuna, unfazed, merely regenerated the wound, his flesh knitting back together in a matter of seconds. He lashed out with a kick, his foot slamming into Hiro's chest with bone-shattering force.

But Hiro was ready for him, his hands snapping out to grab Sukuna's ankle. With a roar of effort, he hurled the King of Curses away, sending him flying through the air.

Sukuna, ever the master of his own body, landed on his feet, his claws digging into the earth to slow his momentum. He brought his hands together, his fingers forming a temple-like shape.

Hiro, his eyes widening in recognition, mirrored the gesture, his own hands coming together as if in prayer.

Fushiguro, watching from the sidelines, felt his heart leap into his throat. He scrambled backward, his eyes wide with fear and awe, as both Hiro and Sukuna spoke the words that would change the very fabric of reality itself.

"Domain Expansion," they said, their voices echoing with power and authority.

Sukuna, his eyes glinting with malevolent glee, declared, "Malevolent Shrine."

Hiro, his face set in a mask of grim determination, countered, "Gateway to Heaven."

In an instant, the world around them shifted and warped, the two domains clashing in a titanic struggle for supremacy. A great temple, the manifestation of Sukuna's power, began to take shape, its walls rising from the earth like the bones of some long-dead behemoth.

But even as it did so, clouds began to form at their feet, the manifestation of Hiro's own domain. The sky above them darkened, turning a deep, ominous blue, as lightning crackled and surged through the heavens.

The two domains battled for dominance, their energies clashing and intertwining in a dizzying display of power and majesty. But in the end, it was Hiro who emerged victorious, his domain overpowering Sukuna's weakened state.

The temple crumbled and shattered, its walls dissolving into dust and debris. The clouds, now filled with crackling electricity, surged forward, engulfing Sukuna in a blinding flash of light and power.

The King of Curses screamed, his body convulsing as the lightning tore through him, searing his flesh and setting his nerves ablaze. Hiro, his face set in a mask of grim determination, said, "Within my domain, everything is filled with electricity. I can increase the voltage at will. So, you'd better regenerate that heart, or I'll kill you."

Sukuna, his body wracked with pain, managed a defiant smile. "You don't have the guts," he snarled, his voice filled with contempt.

Hiro, his eyes narrowing, replied, "Try me."

The voltage increased, the lightning growing stronger and more intense. Sukuna let out a small grunt of pain, every part of his body burning with agony. But still, he refused to yield, his pride and arrogance overriding his sense of self-preservation.

Suddenly, Hiro gasped, his body sagging with exhaustion. The domain vanished, the world around them returning to the backyard of the detention center. Fushiguro, his eyes wide with confusion, asked, "What happened?"

Hiro, his chest heaving with exertion, replied, "I still haven't mastered it completely."

Sukuna, his breathing ragged and labored, thought to himself, "That was too close."

He noticed Hiro recovering, his body already beginning to heal from the strain of the domain expansion. With lightning speed, Sukuna darted forward, grabbing Fushiguro and pulling him close, his claws digging into the young sorcerer's flesh.

"Now," Sukuna said, his voice filled with cruel amusement, "you'd better leave, or I'll kill your friend."

Hiro, his eyes blazing with fury, began to form a crackling sphere of electricity in his palm. Blue Lightning, his most powerful attack, the manifestation of his rage and determination.

He pointed it at Sukuna, his voice low and dangerous. "Let him go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Sukuna, his smile widening, replied, "Are you serious? You'll kill them both."

Hiro, his face set in a mask of grim resolve, said, "You'll kill him anyway. I'd rather do it with my own hands. Besides, Itadori said he wanted a dignified death."

Inside, Hiro prayed that Sukuna would back down, that he wouldn't have to go to such extremes. He continued, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and sorrow, "Itadori is a good person. He'll understand."

Sukuna, his mind racing, thought to himself, "Damn it, I need Fushiguro. But there's no way I'm regenerating this brat's heart."

With a wicked grin, he called out, "Hey, brat. Itadori. If you don't take control of this body right now, I'll kill Fushiguro."

Hiro, his anger reaching a boiling point, could only watch in horror as Itadori's body went limp, his eyes glazing over as the life drained from them.

Fushiguro, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief, could only stare at the lifeless form of his friend, his heart shattering into a million pieces.

Itadori, his voice little more than a whisper, said, "I'm sorry, guys."

And with those final words, his body collapsed to the ground, a puppet with its strings cut, a vessel without a soul.

The rain fell in heavy sheets, the droplets mingling with the tears that streamed down Hiro and Fushiguro's faces as they stared in disbelief at Itadori's lifeless body. It was as if the heavens themselves were weeping, mourning the loss of a soul so pure and good.

Hiro felt a scream of rage and anguish building in his chest, threatening to tear itself free from his throat. He had failed. Failed to protect Itadori, failed to keep him safe from the machinations of the higher-ups and the cruelty of fate.

He glanced at Fushiguro, saw the pain and confusion etched onto the younger sorcerer's face. Hiro forced himself to take a deep breath, to push down the grief and guilt that threatened to consume him.

With gentle hands, he lifted Itadori's body, cradling it close to his chest. "Come on, Fushiguro," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fushiguro, his eyes filled with tears, looked up at Hiro, his expression one of utter devastation. "Tell me, senpai," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, "is this fair? That good people should die like this?"

Hiro, his heart heavy with sorrow, replied, "Good people often make sacrifices for others. He had a dignified death."

Together, they walked back to the waiting car, the rain soaking through their clothes and chilling them to the bone. But physical discomfort was the last thing on their minds, their hearts too heavy with grief to feel anything else.

The ticking of the clock was the only sound that filled the infirmary, its steady rhythm a stark contrast to the chaos and turmoil that raged within Hiro's mind. He sat in one of the chairs, a towel draped over his face, his body slumped with exhaustion and despair.

On the examination table, Itadori's body lay still and silent, awaiting the forensic examination that would confirm what they all already knew. Ijichi stood nearby, his presence a quiet reminder of the role he had played in this tragedy, the orders he had followed that had led to Itadori's death.

The door swung open, and Gojo entered, his usually jovial expression replaced by one of solemn understanding. He looked at Hiro, his voice soft and filled with sympathy. "It's not your fault, Hiro."

Hiro, his voice muffled by the towel, replied, "I couldn't protect him."

Gojo sighed, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his own grief and anger. "This is what the higher-ups wanted. To get rid of Itadori, the vessel of Sukuna. That's why they sent them to a suicide mission, and why they sent us away."

Hiro remained silent, the guilt gnawing at his insides like a ravenous beast. Gojo, his voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and resignation, continued, "Hiro, you have to understand that death is a daily occurrence in our line of work. Believe me, no matter how strong you become, you can't save everyone."

Hiro said nothing, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Gojo, his tone turning somber, added, "It's a fate that anyone can face. Inumaki, Panda, Yuta... or even Maki."

At the mention of Maki's name, Hiro's fists tightened, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. "What's the point of being strong," he asked, his voice filled with anguish, "if I can't protect them?"

The door opened once more, and Shoko entered, her face etched with concern. "Satoru," she chided, her voice gentle but firm, "aren't you being too hard on the boy?"

She moved to Hiro's side, her hand coming to rest on his head, her fingers gently stroking his hair in a maternal gesture of comfort. Gojo, his expression hardening, replied, "If he wants to be the strongest, he has to understand the weight he'll carry."

Shoko, her eyes filled with compassion, said, "He's still a child."

Gojo, his voice firm and unyielding, countered, "He's a sorcerer."

Ijichi, caught in the middle of the argument, shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting between the three of them, unsure of where to look or what to say.

Hiro, his voice soft and filled with a newfound sense of purpose, spoke up. "Itadori used to say that he wanted to use his power to save as many people as he could. I want to be as good a person as he was."

Gojo, his expression turning skeptical, replied, "And look where that got him. He could run, but he chose to search for the corpses, and he ended up dead."

Hiro stood up, his eyes blazing with determination. "At least he tried. At least he didn't turn a blind eye."

Gojo, his voice filled with a hint of challenge, asked, "So, you'd rather die doing the right thing?"

Hiro, his voice filled with conviction, replied, "Maybe... maybe that's what I want. To carry on Itadori's legacy. Maybe that's what strength is all about. Making the world a little bit better."

Gojo, his expression softening, said, "Hiro, being the strongest isn't about being a hero. It's about being a balance."

Hiro, his voice filled with a newfound sense of purpose, replied, "I told you, didn't I? I'll become the strongest and shatter that balance. I'll tip the scales in our favor."

Gojo, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, said, "That's the spirit."

Shoko, pulling on a pair of gloves, asked, "Can I start the dissection?"

Suddenly, Itadori sat up, his eyes blinking open, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. The room fell silent, everyone staring in shock and disbelief at the sight before them.

Itadori, his voice filled with his usual cheerful nonchalance, said, "Hey, I'm back."

Gojo, a laugh escaping his lips, brought his hand to his face, shaking his head in amazement. "I should have known," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and amusement.

Hiro, his legs suddenly feeling weak, collapsed back into his chair, a smile spreading across his face as the weight of his guilt and sorrow lifted from his shoulders.

Gojo, his smile widening, extended his hand to Itadori. "Welcome back, Itadori."

_________

Gojo and Hiro strolled through the school garden, their footsteps crunching softly on the gravel path as they made their way back to their usual duties. The sun shone down upon them, its warm rays dappling the ground through the leaves of the trees that lined the walkway.

Gojo, his face serious, turned to Hiro, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Hiro, I told Shoko to report Itadori as dead."

Hiro, his eyes widening in surprise, exclaimed, "What? Why?"

Gojo, his expression grim, explained, "Because I want to hide him away and train him for a month, so that he can protect himself. He'll return for the exchange event."

Hiro, his brow furrowed in confusion, asked, "And who would want to kill him? Sukuna?"

Gojo shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "No, the higher-ups. Remember?"

Hiro nodded, realization dawning on his face. Gojo, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination, continued, "So, keep it a secret. I'll train him, and he'll be under Nanami's care."

Hiro, his mind racing with possibilities, asked, "Will you take him to the mountain?"

Gojo, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, replied, "No, it won't be as harsh as your training. He needs a different kind of guidance. He'll stay in one of the secret rooms within the school."

Hiro nodded, his expression one of understanding and acceptance. Gojo, his tone turning serious once more, said, "Listen, Hiro. I was going to ask Yuta, but I think it's better if I ask you. Can you carry the weight?"

Hiro, his eyes filled with determination, nodded, his jaw set in a firm line. Gojo, his voice filled with a hint of worry, continued, "If something were to happen to me, I want you to take care of Itadori."

Hiro, his eyes widening in surprise, asked, "Something happening to you? What are you talking about?"

Gojo, his smile tinged with a hint of sadness, replied, "It's just a bad feeling, but promise me. You'll take care of Itadori... and everyone else."

Hiro, his voice filled with conviction, said, "Of course."

Gojo, his smile widening, clapped Hiro on the shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Very well, I'll see you later. Prepare yourself for the exchange event. I want you to crush the competition."

Hiro, a grin spreading across his face, replied, "I will."

As they parted ways, Hiro couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach. Gojo's words, his talk of something happening to him, had struck a chord within Hiro, filling him with a sense of foreboding.

But as he made his way back to the main building, his mind already racing with plans and strategies for the upcoming event, Hiro pushed those thoughts aside. He had made a promise to Gojo, to protect Itadori and the others, and he would keep that promise, no matter what challenges lay ahead.