Chapter 1: Punishment

Toji Fushiguro stood, mortally wounded. In front of him, Satoru Gojo watched him, victorious after their battle. As life slipped away from his body, Toji observed him with a spark of final determination.

"Any last words?" Gojo asked calmly, attempting to grant him some honor in death.

"Nah," Toji muttered, a faint smile barely forming on his lips. But in his mind, an image appeared, a vision that shook him: a dark-haired child slightly opening his mouth, looking at him. Gathering what little strength he had left, Toji whispered, barely audible, "In two or three years... the Zenin clan will come for my son."

Gojo blinked, taken aback by the revelation, as Toji, with his last breath, added, "Do whatever you want with that." Then, his eyes dimmed, and his body fell silent. He felt no pain at the end, only a deep exhaustion, as if the world dissolved into darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, there was no light, no body, not even a sense of weight. Am I in hell? he thought, mocking himself. For someone like him, this end was predictable. If this is hell, what a disappointment... However, before long, that calm and emptiness turned exasperating. The absolute silence stretched on, and Toji began to feel an unusual despair. With nothing to distract him, his own mind became a prison. Okay, I take it back. This is a damn devilish punishment.

There was no pain, no company, not even a horizon. Only darkness and a sort of internal thrum, a white noise that never ceased. Sometime later, something changed. Toji felt his being surrounded by a dense, viscous substance, as if submerged in a warm liquid unlike water. "What the hell is this?" he thought, repulsed. "Did they upgrade my punishment and dunk me in a pool of slime?" The silence began to break with distant echoes, so vague and muffled he could barely distinguish them.

Unaware of how much time had passed, his mind began wandering back to memories of his life. He wondered about his son, bitterly recalling how he had been practically a stranger to him. "I guess I really was a damn mess of a father," he laughed bitterly. But even that guilt became more real as memories flowed. Images of his life as a mercenary passed by: the missions, the fights... and his last mission. It had been just another job, hunting a fourteen-year-old girl. He hadn't cared; the payment had been generous. However, now, in eternal punishment, he felt a small sting of regret. "My last job was killing a kid."

He tried to dismiss the regret, searching for another memory to distract himself, but one, in particular, lingered: his battle with that Gojo kid. "I should've made sure to kill him," he thought irritably. He had been too confident, underestimating his opponent. Toji sighed in the darkness, hoping at least that idiot Gojo had done something for his son, though he doubted he'd had time for it.

In his reverie, a strange sensation jolted him. He felt a sweet taste, but not in his mouth. It was as if the flavor was... embedded in the air around him. "What the hell...?" It wasn't long before a strange, soft scent reached him, something he'd never experienced before. "Is this some kind of reward for good behavior?" he mocked, confused. Although, in reality, he felt that this dark and slimy place was beginning to slowly consume his sanity.

Later on, a new stimulus distracted him. A constant, vibrant sound began filling the void—a heartbeat echoing in the darkness. At first, it was barely a murmur, but over time, it grew stronger and more familiar until it almost seemed human. "A heartbeat?" But before he could process it, a bitter taste jolted him violently. A smell and taste so sharp that it burned inside him, reminding him of his youth. "Tobacco? Beer?" he thought, baffled.

He felt the burning sensation spreading through his body, as if that taste was scorching every cell of his being. "Damn it... now they're punishing me for my vices," he thought, frustrated. He only hoped it would end soon, because in this state, there was nothing he could do to escape the torment. Hours, or maybe days, passed until the smell faded, leaving him alone with the heartbeat, which seemed to be the only constant in this abyss. The murmurs continued, each time slightly clearer.

"Can't I just sleep?" he thought, annoyed by those whispers. He didn't realize that those sounds, and that heartbeat, came from the outside world, and that he wasn't alone in the darkness. Sometimes he felt like he could move a hand, or at least a limb, though something restrained his movements, as if he were trapped. He lifted what seemed to be his hand and, to his surprise, noticed something strange. "Why does this hand feel so small?" Perplexed, he told himself that the isolation and lack of stimuli were affecting his mind.

Time passed, and although the steady rhythm of the heartbeats left him puzzled, Toji had grown accustomed to the silence and those inexplicable stimuli that came and went with no apparent order. But one day, something particular shook him: an unfamiliar sensation in his eyes. "Light?" It felt faint, more like a reddish glow enveloping him. Everything around him was red, dense, as if he were looking through a veil of blood.

"What the hell is happening?" he said, trying to understand, when he heard those muffled voices again. This time, he could distinguish soft, light laughter, and the tone seemed... female? An uncomfortable idea crossed his mind, but he needed confirmation. Gathering all the willpower he had left, he tried to move something, anything. After a tremendous effort, he managed to kick a leg, which caused a slight pressure against his surroundings. Seconds later, he heard the laughter again, this time clearer.

"Oh no..." he thought, a chill running through him as he began to understand what this could mean. To clear his doubts, he kicked again, and immediately he heard what seemed to be the laughter and murmurs of a woman. The echoes and vibrations of the laughter felt... protective. "Don't tell me I'm inside a woman... literally," he thought, incredulous.

It took Toji a few moments to accept what was happening. "So... I'm a baby." He felt a mix of irritation and resignation. "These things are supposed to be forgotten for a reason. But now, everything makes sense."

The tastes, the smells, the feeling of being trapped, the heartbeats... and, of course, that laughter.

Though trapped in a state of confusion and darkness, he began making connections about his situation. "If I'm here, in a woman's womb..." he thought, recalling the echoes of the lives he had lived. "It's been some time. I must be close to being born." The idea both scared and intrigued him; the cycle of life was a concept he had never seriously considered. However, as his mind cleared, an unsettling truth became evident: birth was imminent.

Suddenly, everything around him began to tremble. The woman, whose presence he could feel, moved with increasing intensity, and her movements grew more regular and forceful. "This can't be good," he reflected as the pressure mounted, almost as if the space surrounding him was becoming narrower. The amniotic fluid, which he had grown used to, began to drain, emptying his environment. "Damn it, this is going to hurt," he thought, a shiver of anticipation coursing through him.

The sensation of compression increased as his head began to descend toward the exit. "It hurts a lot... now I see why they cry when they come out," he thought wryly, feeling the truth behind his words. It was a pain he had never experienced, but deep down, he knew it was necessary to achieve freedom.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his head felt the brush of the outside air. With each push, the light of the outside world grew more intense, and a new kind of pressure forced him toward life. The cold struck his skin for the first time, overwhelming him with a horrible shock. "What the hell is going on?" he wondered, trying to open his eyes, but the light blinded him, leaving him stunned.

It was at that moment he felt himself being lifted by the leg, left hanging in the air. "What's this?" his mind screamed. Before he could process it, a man slapped his backside. "Hey! You don't know who you just hit," he thought with disdain, feeling a mix of confusion and anger. The man, seemingly indifferent, slapped him again, this time harder, causing a faint whimper to escape his lips. "Apparently, that was enough," he reflected as they cleaned him off.

Soon after, they brought him to the woman, who looked like she had just been through a war. Though his vision was blurry, he could make out her black hair and the expression of exhaustion on her face. However, he didn't have time to admire her beauty; his attention was quickly captured by a nipple that appeared before him. "I'm not going to turn down an invitation like this," he thought, feeling an instinctive urge to feed. He latched on and began drinking, seeking comfort in that primitive action. "I hope I forget this," he said to himself, overwhelmed by the humiliation of his situation.

As he fed, he heard murmurs around him, and little by little, the words began to make sense. "I've already decided on a name," the woman said in a soft, tired voice, looking at him tenderly. "It will be Toji." Upon hearing his name, a spark of connection lit something within him. His half-closed eyes met his mother's, and he noticed that they both shared the same gray eyes and black hair.

With a smile on her lips, the woman closed her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief and happiness as Toji continued nursing.