Chapter 44

They sat around a round wooden table. How Toji had managed to find a traditional sake bar open this late, and how Emi convinced the owner to let them in despite their injuries, blood, and dust, as well as an unconscious girl strapped to a wheelchair, was a mystery he wasn't eager to solve.

He took slow, calming breaths while Shoko stood behind him, her palms flat on his back as her cursed technique went to work. Once again, Jiki found himself trying to follow the patterns and flow of her cursed energy.

The reverse cursed technique was still one of the things he found difficult to copy. Coupled with Shoko's borderline useless explanations and descriptions, he found himself floundering at something for the first time. Unlike Iryo-nin, the positive energy from the reverse cursed technique did not so much as heal as it seemed to work like turning back time for his eyes, reversing the damage to his optical nerves caused by each activation of the Mangekyo Sharingan.

It had not taken him long to realize that he was not truly the source of the problem. None the less the first time, his past life knowledge served as a handicap, creating a bias that hindered his progress. Reverse cursed technique and Iryo-nin were as far apart as water was to fire. However, he was self-aware enough to recognize this issue and tried to work around it. Still, he knew there was something more to his difficulty.

His inability to master the reverse cursed technique seemed to be hardcoded into his very bloodline. The Gojo clan, renowned for their immense cursed energy and powerful techniques, were predisposed to having issues with this particular technique, and old man Tatsumi was the first person to master it in multiple decades, with Satoru coming in second even if his own use of it was limited to himself.

A never-before occurrence of multiple Gojos learning the technique in one lifetime intrigued Jiki. He had a theory that it came down to the Six Eyes and Limitless techniques. The Gojo clan members were not predisposed to taking damage. Even a flawed Limitless technique provided immense protection. As a result, they never had to rely on the reverse cursed technique, and this lack of necessity had eroded whatever innate talent the clan might have had for it.

It was like a metaphorical muscle. In medical terms, it would be a recessive trait that had gone dormant and deteriorated due to a lack of use until it had almost disappeared from the collective Gojo gene pool. The inability to use the reverse cursed technique was simply a reflection of this dormant gene, atrophied from generations of neglect.

In the end, it was all a theory. Despite the emphasis jujutsu sorcerers placed on the purity of blood, they had nothing on the well-crafted and rigidly controlled eugenics that were the hallmark of the clans of the elemental nations. The structured breeding programs and selective pairings of the elemental nations' clans made the Gojo clan's approach seem almost haphazard in comparison.

A grunt, followed by the movement of a hand towards a knife, and even with his eyes closed, his body healing, and the engorged pathways in his eyes reducing and mending, Jiki focused his attention on the man opposite him like a laser. He brought the full weight of his enhanced senses and his impressive ability to sense cursed energy, coupled with his intent—the absolute certainty that he would kill the man if he made a threatening motion.

All these factors combined into something that made everyone around the table tense up, even if they were not his target. This palpable aura of lethal intent was a technique that had been colloquially named: Killing Intent.

Yet the man he aimed it at barely seemed to care, using the knife to cut what, judging by the sound of steel against meat followed by the grind of steel against ceramics, was likely a piece of steak.

Jiki could almost feel the smirk on the man's face at his overreaction, but he was unfazed. He had been promised to bring Shoko Ierie back, and he was never one to renegade on his words.

"Why are we here?"

Surprisingly, it was not Toji who finally broke the silence. Jiki shifted the full brunt of his attention towards the boy, and he could almost feel his nervousness in response.

"You're a Zenin?" he questioned softly.

"Fushiguro," the boy and Toji responded at the same time. The boy's tone was calm, but Toji's had a bite to it.

"Megumi Fushiguro," the boy responded again, after what Jiki guessed was a short stare between father and son. The loud slurp of Emi taking a sip of whatever drink she ordered broke the silence, followed by her muted apologies. He had not forgotten about her, nor how she had no-sold Toji's blow. But all things had their time.

The question itself had been a test. Jiki sought to see if the former Zenin had tried to reconnect with his clan, connections hidden from the rest of the wider world. Judging by their reactions, whatever hatred Toji had for his clan remained. Good.

"Your father talked about you once. My name is Gojo Jiki, nice to meet you," he greeted the boy with a polite nod. It took a few seconds before the sound of Megumi nodding his head along with a muttered response reached him. They could resume trying to kill each other after this, but a little bit of attempted murder was no excuse to be impolite.

A sigh came from behind him as he felt Shoko's technique come to a slow halt, easing Itself out of him. Shortly after she lifted her hands from his shoulders, cutting short what he was about to say.

"Another session left before I can have you trying to render the world to ash once more," she stated with a yawn.

He finally blinked his eyes open, and steel grey swiftly transitioned to red and black. The clarity that came with it was dulled by the strange look the two Fushiguros and Emi were giving him.

Shoko sat down beside him and continued, taking a sip of her drink before slipping out a cigarette once more and giving him a pointed look. It was routine at this point for him to put his hands under the butt of the cigar and snap his fingers, flexing metaphorical muscles to set the tip alight.

She brought the stick back to her lips and took a long drag, and he saw the way her body seemingly relaxed for the first time. He frowned and wondered how he hadn't noticed it before, even if it all made sense now. She had been healing on the battlefield for a couple of hours, only to be kidnapped and taken to heal someone who had been placed into a curse-induced coma.

For all her seeming apathy and lack of care for anything, even she was not immune to the stress and mental fatigue the past couple of days must've brought upon her.

She must've realized the attention of the two Fushiguros was now on her because she turned to him and continued hurriedly. "But if they start acting up again, don't hesitate to set them on fire. Especially the little brat. He spent all day glaring at me."

A smile almost slipped at that, but he maintained his apathetic facade with some effort. It would have been an easy thing to resume the fight, but they had both agreed to a truce, and the Fushiguros had a deterrent just as big as his eyes. In the middle of the table and surrounded by a platter of food and drinks sat a warped parcel of wires and electronics—a ticking bomb. Its trigger had been in the center of the table as well, resting in plain sight but from the moment he opened his eyes, Toji had snapped it up faster than anybody but Jiki could react.

The threat of mutually assured destruction hung in the air, and it seemed both parties were comfortable with that knowledge.

"You said you could heal her, but you didn't," Megumi finally broke in once more, his sole focus on the issue at hand, uncaring of the subtle power plays going on right beneath his eyes.

"I said I would try," Shoko replied with a shrug. "And I did, but unfortunately I couldn't bring her out of the coma, same as the last four people I tried to help."

"She's not the first" the boy acknowledged, and Jiki's eyes drifted to the girl still trapped in her wheelchair, noticing the seal etchings on the top of her head. He remembered Satoru talking about people suddenly entering comas weeks ago, but that wasn't the main thing that drew his attention to the girl. No, that was solely one of the seal patterns on her head that seemed oddly familiar.

"No, she's not. We were never able to truly diagnose what was wrong with them," Shoko continued, before turning to the girl and looking at her once again. "But I've never been as motivated as I have been the past few days." She glanced at Toji and continued speaking. "I believe something has touched—"

"Her soul."

As one, they all turned to Jiki as he slowly rose to his feet. He felt ice in his veins, a chill born not just of the situation but of the implications stirring within him. Carefully, he walked towards the girl, each step measured, as if approaching a puzzle whose pieces held Epiphany. He couldn't shake the feeling that something from his past, a shadow, was haunting this present moment. Yet, he refused to believe that reformed pest could have followed him here; it must be mere coincidence, strange similarities echoing across time.

"Yes. How did you know?" Shoko asked, her curiosity piqued, her voice a contrast to the tense silence that had settled over the table. Jiki finally stopped beside the girl and crouched down, his fingers tracing lightly over the intricate seal markings etched into her forehead.

"I recognize some of the patterns," Jiki replied softly, a sense of familiarity tugging at his consciousness. The patterns were not just identical, they were echoes of what he had once known, reminiscent of the fuinjutsu used to seal in his previous life. He recalled similar markings on his little brother's neck, a haunting memory that now seemed to resonate now. The realization sparked a flood of questions in his mind, as he began to weave a web of connections between this world and his past.

What if this world, was a continuation of the elemental nations he once knew? Had the threads of fate woven him back into a tapestry he thought he had left behind?

Uncaring or perhaps simply unaware of Jiki's inner turmoil, Toji broke the silence with a direct question.

"What do they mean?"

Jiki stood up, his gaze shifting from the girl to meet the eyes of those around him. He could sense their anticipation, their need for answers. With deliberate calm, he spoke, each word carrying the weight of his revelation.

"It means that the girl—"

"Tsumiki!" Megumi's correction sliced through the tension, his voice sharp.

Jiki gave a nod before continuing. "It means that Tsumiki Fushiguro is not the only one in there."

"What do you mean?" Toji repeated, his tone low and dangerous. Despite the man's outward strength, Jiki could see the uncertainty in his eyes. It was a familiar look, one he recognized from his own past—the same look of doubt and remorse he had once seen in his own eyes when confronted with the consequences of the choices he had forced upon his little brother, and the dark paths he had led him down. The choices he had pushed him to make and the serpent he had made him lay with.

Instead of replying immediately, he turned his attention back to the girl and the intricate fuinjutsu patterns etched on her forehead. The sealing arts were not his specialty, but his knowledge was sufficient to discern some elements derived from that snake's work. There was some similarities, but it wasn't a direct replica. Lingua drift overtime preharphs. As he examined the seals labeled 'Soul', 'Other', 'Contain', and 'Trigger', that sense of recognition was confirmed. The girl had some distorted variation of the snake's Cursed Seal Of Heaven.

"She's not the only one in there. There's likely another presence sharing her body, a parasite," Jiki explained, his voice measured hiding the disgust he felt at seeing that man's work replicated. "But judging by her continued unconsciousness, this presence hasn't awakened either." His words hung in the air, carrying the weight of uncertainty.

There was a brief silence as everybody stared at him, each face reflecting a mix of emotions as the seriousness of the situation slowly sank in. Even Shoko's usually composed demeanor betrayed a hint of concern, her gaze flickering between each person around the table. Seconds later, the silence was shattered by a low, guttural growl.

"Get. It. Out," Megumi stated, his eyes red with anger and fear as he gripped the table so hard his fingers dug into the wood. Jiki met his gaze with his usual apathetic expression. The boy moved to surge to his feet, but a hand clamped onto his shoulder and shoved him back into his seat.

Toji kept his grip on his son's shoulder as he slowly stood up himself, his uncertainties either masked or drowned out as he matched Jiki's apathetic look with one of his own.

"So what now?" Toji asked in a low tone, his voice betraying the calm look he wore. Jiki found himself without an answer for the man, nothing that would satisfy the duo. He didn't know if his previous method of resolving such issues could be replicated. He was no Fourth Hokage or even Jiraiya of the Sannin; fuinjutsu had never been his greatest strength. Could he risk it...

"Now we deal with it," Shoko interjected, stepping into the conversation once more and diverting some of the attention away from Jiki. She shrugged off their stares with a matching expression of determination.

"We now know what to look for, and we're better positioned to work it out. We have experience with dealing with soul-related curses and ailments, so we might be able to help."

"What's the price for this help?" Toji uttered, as if the very idea of paying for the service hurt him.

"Your cooperation."

"Huh?" came the surprised reply from everyone that was not Jiki.

Shoko shrugged as she continued, cutting through their confusion and uncertainty with her typical blunt speech. "Things are changing. Satoru is being pulled at the seams, Jiki is a handy replacement and ridiculously competent for a boy, but we can see the writing on the walls. I can see them especially. Something is stirring: special grade curses banding together, this curse-fueled coma spreading, rogue curse users poking their head out of the gutter since Geto proved that it was possible, and the Zenin acting up."

"The Zenin?" Toji questioned with a scowl.

"You're still excommunicated, so I guess it doesn't matter, nor are you aware, but they have been acting up, ducking their responsibilities, experimenting with things better left forgotten or ignored. And yet the higher-ups have done nothing to curb their behavior," Jiki replied as he made his way back to his seat, with Toji mirroring him with a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Hn."

Shoko continued, surprising him so far, so he relaxed and let her continue as she resumed her sales pitch with uncharacteristic seriousness. "There are too many enemies, and these are just the ones we can see. There are still unseen threats bubbling in the dark. So it's simple. Join us. It won't be something that would be advertised. We can enlist Megumi in Jujutsu High to watch out for Tsumiki and be a point of contact with you while I also start putting Tsumiki through some tests."

"In return, you help us. We identify threats, and you neutralize them."

Toji's face immediately shifted into a scowl, while Megumi was a mess of confusion as he sat bewildered. Everything was happening too fast. It must've felt like they were being railroaded, and Shoko must have sensed it too because her brows began to tighten.

"You'll get paid for your services, of course," Emi smoothly added. And just like that, whatever tension seemed to have been budding was slowly dissipating as the corners of Toji's lips edged upwards ever so slightly. He had to admit, the civilian-born girl was rapidly coming into her own as an excellent mediator.

Emi's perceptiveness and understanding of people were showing its effectiveness, and she continued. "An alliance of mutual benefit, not just a one-sided excuse to use each other. Megumi enrolls instead of enlists and can come with us to look after Tsumiki and give you regular updates. He'll just register as a regular student while also refining his innate technique further. The perfect cover."

Toji leaned on the table before he finally spoke with a grunt.

"One month," Toji began and he stared deep into Emi's eyes. "if you can't get her up by then, what next?!"

"Then I'll step in," Jiki declared with unwavering certainty, his tone reminiscent of Satoru's. Toji was forced to shift his attention to Jiki. "It would be our final card, but if it comes down to it, I'll take care of it myself." The conviction in his words forced Toji to blink as that shark like smile began to spread once more.

"Let us hash out the details. I need my lawyer and handler, Shui Kong."

Jiki and Emi exchanged a look before Emi replied with a tight smile. "Of course."

….

They were outside the building, as Emi continued her conversation with the two Fushiguros, reassuring them, while Shoko resumed smoking and Jiki stood beside her and observed. Her expression was weary yet contemplative.

"I didn't expect that from you," Jiki finally broke the silence, his tone probing.

Shoko remained silent for a long moment, exhaling a plume of smoke into the evening air before responding. Her voice carried a weight of regret and introspection. "We failed him, you know."

Jiki turned to her, his brow furrowing in curiosity. It was rare for Shoko to reveal such vulnerability.

She continued, her eyes fixed on the shifting clouds above. "Geto. We should've seen the cracks in his convictions, in his ambitions. But we didn't. And we lost him because of that. I can see those cracks again, Jiki-kun." This time, she turned to meet his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and sadness.

"They have lessened since you came, but the elders still seem determined to exploit any weakness," she added, her voice tinged with frustration.

Understanding dawned on Jiki. "Satoru," he murmured.

Shoko nodded solemnly before returning her gaze to the sky. "I won't watch him go the same way," she stated firmly, her resolve clear in her voice.

They lapsed into a contemplative silence, the only sound the distant murmur of the city and the occasional rustle of Shoko's clothing as she adjusted her position against the wall.

"You need to stop smoking, you know," Jiki remarked after a while,

"Bahh, now you sound like Utamihe," Shoko retorted, a faint hint of amusement in her voice despite the seriousness of their conversation.

They remained there, two figures under the evening sky, contemplating the uncertain future that lay ahead for them.

…

The car slowed to a stop, and Jiki smoothly opened the door, stepping out with a surprising lack of discomfort or pain, considering the multiple battles he had recently endured. There were some lingering kinks in his muscles, signs of fatigue and rapid healing, but nothing he couldn't handle. Shoko had worked her miraculous healing once again, almost restoring him to perfect condition.

Turning back to the car, Jiki carefully lifted the still comatose Fushiguro girl in a bridal carry. He spared a moment to glance at her face—she was slightly older than him, though she appeared much younger. Feeling the weight of eyes on him, he resisted the urge to smile and began walking up the stairs, ignoring the suspicious look from Megumi.

"I never thought I'd miss this place," Emi remarked, starting the conversation as they ascended. The school still bore the scars of Geto's destructive parting blow, even days later.

"At least it's still standing," Shoko added, her demeanor surprisingly relaxed as they entered Master Tengen's barrier. She hadn't even reached for a cigarette, her hands tucked deep into her coat.

Perhaps due to their familiarity with the journey, the typically long and arduous stairs felt shorter than usual. Waiting for them at the top was a white-haired man, lounging casually as if asserting his dominance over the territory. His head tilted in amusement, though the dark shades concealed any signs of fatigue under his eyes. The vibrant blue of his irises drew everyone's attention.

Satoru surveyed them with his characteristic playful demeanor, starting from Jiki and the girl in his arms, to the black-haired boy behind him, and finally to Shoko.

"I have a feeling there's a story behind this. Good thing I have one of my own," he finally spoke, a grin spreading across his face as he met Jiki's gaze. Despite the trials of the past days, Jiki couldn't help but smile back, It was good to have Satoru back.

…

It had taken almost an hour, but like all things that had a beginning, It ended.

"I see," Satoru stated after Shoko concluded her tale, his gaze shifting to the suddenly nervous form of Megumi. While they had agreed on the basic outline of their plans, Satoru held the ultimate power to decide whether Megumi would stay, especially since he would be sponsoring him.

They sat in the depths of Jujutsu High, in a clandestine room designed for binding or sealing special-grade threats. The walls were adorned with talismans and etchings that provided some measure of security and protection, making it difficult even for Satoru to peer beyond its defenses.

"We can try to sneak you in as a regular sorcerer we found, but the moment you use your technique, that ruse would be up," Satoru began, still studying Megumi intently. "I doubt any Zenin worth their salt would fail to recognize the inherited technique that has made them the powerhouse they are."

"So what?" Shoko questioned.

Satoru responded with a grin and a casual shrug. "So we don't bother trying to hide it. They're going to find out anyway."

"What about his father's notoriety?" Emi interjected unexpectedly, surprising Jiki with her assertiveness. Satoru had trusted him and allowed her to join the discussion.

"What does it matter?" Satoru shrugged again. "In the cesspit of corruption and greed that is the foundation of the clans, all that truly matters is power. And Toji Fushiguro was the most powerful thing to come out of that clan in recent times."

Satoru attempted to emphasize the seriousness of the situation with a meaningful look over his glasses before continuing, "If this truly is the Ten Shadows Technique, then the Zenin will want him back, but they'll have to approach it delicately."

"What about Geto?" Jiki finally asked, knowing it wasn't the ideal moment but feeling it necessary to address. There was never a perfect time for such discussions, and he preferred to rip off the bandage cleanly rather than let it fester due to indecision.

The mood in the room immediately darkened. Emi, ever observant, noticed the shift and swiftly stood up, addressing Megumi.

"Come on, Fushiguro-san. Let me show you around before Gojo-sensei takes you to see Principal Yagi," she said, prompting Megumi to follow her lead and quickly leave the trio of Satoru, Jiki, and Shoko behind.

After a prolonged silence, Satoru finally spoke with a sad smile, "Geto... Geto is dead."

…

One moment, it didn't exist, and in the next, it suddenly did.

It was born in a single breath, yet it had been accumulating for a long time—years, decades, centuries. Not even the immoral monster that had put the last few steps in place knew how long the being had been waiting to be born.

All it had needed was a spark. Unlike most curses, he was not born solely from the fear of humans. It had also been born from the fear of sorcerers as their control lapsed while they fought a single man, even if most never saw his face. That had been its spark, and it felt its curse technique etching itself on his brain and soul, taking inspiration from both the man that triggered his birth, and pure fear.

It stretched pale, stitched hands out of the black ichor that rested on the floor at the depths of a sewer. The physics of how a hand, much less the body it was pulling out of the liquid could fit on a flat surface, should be impossible, was discarded.

The curse's head slipped past the black ichor that had cradled him for so long, and as it's head broke free, it gained an identity: he.

With that identity came knowledge. As he stepped out of the ichor that had birthed him fully, he raised his head to the slits in the manhole cover meters ahead and smiled at the moonlight that slipped through the grates.

"Humans, such fascinating beings," he found himself speaking, his voice modulating and shifting as he slowly decided on one.

He flexed rippling muscles as he slowly begun to settle on a body type and feature. Light blue hair drifted in the air behind him as he continued to muse. "Now to unravel one would be the most curious thing."