Chapter Text
Hikaru wasn’t clingy. That was ridiculous. He was just… worried.
“Why can’t I… go with them?” he asked, brows furrowed in effort to get the words out. Yaga-sensei sighed as he shook his head.
“I'm really sorry, Hikaru, but their mission is classified and high priority.”
“Satoru will… tell me anyway,” he insisted, because they didn't care about NDAs when it came to each other. Satoru in particular loved tattling about the missions he found interesting, which were usually the top secret ones.
“I know, but plausible deniability. I don't want anyone to get in trouble with the higher ups for that. Besides,” the teacher handed him a stack of papers, “you have your own mission. Solo too.”
Hikaru took it with narrowed eyes, his left one throbbing slightly as he read the contents. “Curse users?”
Yaga-sensei nodded. “And a whole lot of them gathered in one place. We received the tip just this morning and they want these people taken care of as soon as possible.”
The eye twitched. “And Shoko?”
“Too dangerous. They want you to focus on eliminating. Retrieval too if you find any cursed objects.”
Suspicious. With Satoru and Geto about to be away on some secret mission too? Hikaru could already feel a headache coming in. Familiar but annoying at most, so he ignored it.
The contents of the papers were profiles of possible individuals who could appear in that curse user gathering. All murderers of some sort, some worse than others. His nose wrinkled while reading the blurbs on one wannabe scientist who had a habit of using kidnapped children to test her curse technique on. The constant simmering rage lying dormant beneath his skin pulsed at the thought of leaving people like this alone.
“Fine,” he said. “When?”
“Tomorrow, at the same time the other two should be starting theirs.”
No more words were needed, so after bidding farewell, Hikaru went straight to the dorm just as the sun set for the day. At least by the time he got back, his eye was back to normal: practically blind but painless. When he opened the door to the common kitchen, he saw two people already there.
Nanami Kento only glanced up to acknowledge him with a nod before turning back to the simmering pot in front of him. Dressed down in casual clothes with his blonde fringe pulled back with a headband, the younger teen looked much less dour.
“Ah, senpai, welcome back!” Haibara Yu greeted from the table, waving his hand so enthusiastically Hikaru worried it might fly off. Looking at the stack of papers under his arm, he mused, “You seniors sure are busy, huh?”
“Hm,” Hikaru replied with a nod. “It’s summer so… seasonal spike.”
“Aw shucks, that means our workload’s gonna go up too. Kento’s been complaining about it for days, you know?”
Nanami scoffed, stirring aggressively. “You’re exaggerating. I was simply commenting on how stupid this entire system is. Which just so happens to be objectively true.”
“See?”
Hikaru just nodded. As much as he would like to passionately rant about it, his mouth refused to cooperate. Well, more like his brain, really. His speech had been stunted for as long as he could remember, no matter how many doctors or speech therapists his family contacted. There weren’t any problems with his throat or mouth, so that wasn’t it. And while he was a bit slow to respond when he wasn’t fighting anything, especially when he was much younger, he could think just fine. Faster than average even, if he said so himself. The words just had trouble coming out no matter how hard he tried, as if his mind and body had a disconnection somewhere. Whether his condition had anything to do with his cursed technique, they were never really sure, and it ended up being unresolved until now.
The smell of whatever Nanami was cooking made his stomach grumble. His face heated up when both underclassmen blinked at how loud it was.
“... are you fine with vegetable soup, senpai?” Nanami asked after a moment of awkward silence.
“Yes please…” Hikaru said, back hunched and trying to ignore how Haibara was trying his best not to laugh.
Satoru and Geto got back just as Hikaru was finishing up his second bowl, and as expected, his brother simply laughed at his embarrassment. Hikaru would have thrown something in his face for that if he wasn’t busy savoring good food.
When Satoru finally deigned to give him more details about his own mission, it was already late at night. Even then, his brother only said, “We're just bodyguards for the Star Plasma Vessel. Boring as shit, I'd expect.”
“Star Plasma…?”
Satoru snorted drowsily. “For Tengen-sama, silly. You forget again? Anyway, they need to change bodies every 500 years or so, apparently. Something like that.” He yawned, snatching Hikaru's pillow even though he had another perfectly serviceable one next to his own. “Will have to defend from a bunch of assassins and it's gonna be annoying so lemme sleep here tonight, alright?”
Hikaru didn't ask anything more, but an uneasy feeling settled in his heart. If he clung to his brother's pajamas for the rest of the night, neither of them mentioned it.
Satoru was already gone when Hikaru woke up the next day, the sun high in the sky and him still reeling from a dream he couldn't quite remember. There was a note on the bedside table saying his share of breakfast (cooked by Haibara this time) was the one on the bottom shelf of the fridge, written in an elegant script that others wouldn't expect from Satoru. He clutched the note to his chest as he tried to slow the anxious beating of his heart. By the time he calmed down, his head felt like it would crack open any minute and spill forth a sludge of dead stars.
Thankfully, Yaga-sensei didn't make the mission briefing too long, or even ask him to speak at all. He was sent off with a nod and a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
There were no Windows going with him this time, because their presence would tip off the curse users back into hiding. This underground auction he was supposed to interrupt was organized and attended by non-sorcerers, with his targets mingling among them. He could think of a few unsavory things they must be selling to attract that many curse users, and it was making his stomach churn.
He was dropped off by a Window on the train station, and from there he had to ride for several minutes to Roppongi. The auction itself was supposed to take place at night for two consecutive days, disguised as parties for the rich and powerful. Hikaru was supposed to get there early to map out the area and maybe even monitor his targets if any were up and about. Probably the reason why no one hounded him for sleeping in until the early afternoon.
If this wasn't what being a hitman was like, Hikaru sure felt like it. His mind felt foggy and his headache was persistent. While these wouldn't hinder his combat capability with how used to them he was, the lack of immediate action was still something to be thankful for.
He wandered listlessly around the area, taking his time window shopping in one of the malls and people-watching when he felt the need to sit down. When the sun was finally setting, he even ate out at the Greek restaurant he happened to pass by. He could imagine the dishes weren't very authentic considering the number of tourists around, but it was a nice departure from his usual meals. All throughout the afternoon, he and Satoru exchanged texts every now and then as his brother relayed to him complaints of how annoying their charge was being. It was calming at first, until he mentioned something about going to Okinawa for some reason and the anxiety came rushing back in. Nothing much he could do though, since the time for the auction was closing in. He would just have to throttle Satoru after this was done.
Dressed with a deep purple hoodie over his uniform, he would have looked like a normal high school student skipping classes to anyone else during the day. If not for the cloth bag containing his cursed weapons, at least. In the evening, with his hood pulled up and a medical face mask covering his mouth and nose, he looked more at home with the seedier parts of the district. His senses honed in on one building in particular, a fancy high-rise hotel that reeked of curse energy. Hikaru may not have his brother's Six Eyes, but his senses were sharp enough to detect the presence of multiple curse users gathered in one area. Try as they might to erase their residuals, their souls would always leave a trace. The number of times he was called a dog for this quirk was too many to count.
Nevertheless, entering the building was simple enough with a bit of hypnosis, no techniques involved, and he was on the right floor in no time. He passed a few barrier talismans that burned with a flash of his curse energy.
He brought two fingers to his lips and muttered, “Emerge from the darkness… blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”
The hallway lights were immediately extinguished, leaving the entire floor in pitch-black. He could already hear some panic from where he was, but he made sure to put up the veil to only this specific floor (it took so long to master such a niche modification, damn it), so he wasn't too worried about the non-sorcerers. And as expected, after hitting the fire alarm, they were funneling out in no time and were in such a rush that they didn't notice how some of their fellows didn't follow them down.
One of the only rooms on this floor was a large auditorium. Hikaru armed himself with a nameless katana and a few daggers before kicking the door open and immediately greeted with a club that burned to ash before it could touch him. The person who swung it looked briefly shocked, but it was long enough for Hikaru to recognize him and draw his sword for a quick execution.
Hamada Akito: curse user who just came back after fleeing Japan for fraud and alleged kidnapping. Easily dispatched.
To his left, he felt someone imbue the chairs with curse energy, making them distort in shape and come to life. Are those shikigami? Golems? To his right and directly in front of him, a handful of people were either readying their own techniques or trying to sneak away.
That would not do. He weaved through the golems first, burning them with a touch before taking one of his curse-imbued daggers and stabbing it into their summoner's head. The stench of burnt wood and cloth made his nose twitch as he cataloged her identity. In the meantime, he withdrew the dagger and sent it flying to the leg of a fleeing target some ways away.
Katerina Kalin, foreigner, not much known of her curse technique but wanted for conspiracy and reckless homicide overseas. Died with shock etched on her face.
He squinted at the runner who was crawling away, but before he could determine his identity, mist obscured his vision of everything. Ah, one of the other targets. That was fine. His eyes, nose and throat were starting to burn from just being there, so poison? Nevermind. With a flare of his cursed energy, the immediate area around him cleared just in time to see someone coming at him with a huge sword. Nakamura Hiroshi, wanted for assault and murder of three sorcerers as well as kidnapping of multiple civilians.
Intercept, redirect, parry. Opponent fell for a feint. Hikaru took advantage of the opening and swiped his head clear off. Poison mist user was… several meters ahead. Strangely enough, there weren't any coughing and choking sounds from other people in the room. Maybe he was wrong about the poison? Just for visual interference then?
Someone attempted to grab him with a mutated arm. The smell of burning flesh was uncomfortably familiar. Another tried to shoot him with a mundane gun and actually grazed his leg when the bullet exploded. It went unnoticed, too used to burns to even register.
Another, and another. Why were there so many of them?
Were there supposed to be this many?
Hikaru let his flames properly materialize, coating his sword and his body a dark purple-blue. Why was he doing this again? Picking them off one by one was getting tedious.
His head hurt.
From then on, instincts took over. The grunts and cut-off screams didn't reach him, mind too hazy to register much. Smoke from burning wood, cloth, plastic, meat. He almost sneezed once. Ashes?
At some point, the blinding mist disappeared. Metallic smell, red splashes on his sneakers. All over the floor, some on the walls.
Weird. Was that supposed to be red?
His hands felt hot. It hurt. Not as much as his head, though.
Why was he here again?
…
…
…
When Hikaru came to, he was standing in hell. What used to be an auditorium was now a smoldering mess, embers still burning bright. Something heavy was hanging off his hand.
When Hikaru's limited vision cleared, he saw an older man hanging dead, chest pierced by Hikaru's arm. He jolted, snatching his limb back and watching numbly as the man crumpled to the floor with a wet splat. Distantly, he recognized the man as Miyashita Eiji, someone with a mind-altering technique… disorientation, was it?
…
Ah.
He looked around, taking note of the corpses and their identities, and felt uneasy when he found some whose profiles weren't the slightest bit familiar. Granted, a few of them were… damaged beyond recognition, but still…
Ah, did he mess up? However unlikely it was, if he had hurt an innocent person, maybe a worker who couldn't make it out in time, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. He made his way to the back, the walls separating it from the main room still miraculously intact despite the dents, though the door was long gone.
No dead bodies. None that he could see, at least. That was… good. While a few of the items seemed to be knocked off of where they originally were, most were relatively unharmed. All of them were radiating varied amounts of cursed energy, but that was easily taken care of with a quick purification spell. A handful were too cursed to leave behind, though, namely one leather-bound book, a collection of… fingernails (?) behind a small box with a glass cover, and a vial of what looked like ash.
He tried not to think too hard about where these items came from. He tried not to think too much at all, because it kind of hurt. Something Satoru liked to jokingly tease him on, except it was actually true sometimes so Hikaru never really minded.
In any case, they were all small enough to stuff under his hoodie. He would look strange doing it but he really just wanted to turn these in, check in on Satoru and sleep.
So he slipped them on his person, wincing a bit when he finally noticed the blisters on both hands, but nonetheless being careful to keep a layer of ambient cursed energy over his body just in case. Then, he went out the door and dispelled the veil. He didn't bother looking for his weapons.
The moment the veil disappeared, the remaining lights flickered on and the sound of sirens reached his ears. He stuck to the shadows as he went down, slouching with his hood up because he lost his mask while fighting. The building was still practically deserted, aside from the firefighters who didn't notice him as they made their way upstairs. He wondered what excuse the Windows would have to make up for this. Gas leak?
He managed to slip away without interruption, still staying in the shadows as he finished a call for a ride back to school. His soot covered, bloodstained self wasn't exactly pleasant to look at right now. Thankfully, someone picked him up barely five minutes later (probably on standby) and he settled on the backseat with a tired sigh.
His phone rang, somehow still intact, and he brought it out for the first time this evening. It wasn't Satoru.
“Hikaru, are you alright?!”
Hikaru blinked. “Mama? Um.” His blistered hands stung as he held his phone as if to remind him. “Mostly fine.”
Huh, now that he was settling down, his leg was also hurting.
“Mostly?”
“Just… a few injuries. Nothing serious. I think.”
“You think??”
His mother spent the next few minutes fussing over him over the phone, with a lecture interspersed here and there, and while Hikaru felt it unnecessary, it was still heartwarming. Nostalgic even. No matter how old or strong he and Satoru got, their mother would always be there to nag them.
Speaking of which…
“Not that… I mind, Mama, but why… are you calling now?” She often just waited for them to call her in case he and Satoru were busy. The only times she took initiative was during their first few days away from home, and that one instance where she asked to see them after someone almost took her life.
Mama breathed deep over the line. “I received some intel, is all. That over a dozen people had taken your bounty over the course of a few days. I asked Masamichi-kun about your mission today and it seemed too coincidental." A pause as she took another deep breath. “I already called Satoru earlier this evening. He's fine, but you wouldn't answer no matter how many times I called.”
“Oh.” What the hell? That tip was a ploy then? Those people were actually trying to kill him? He corralled his thoughts before he spiralled. To his mother, he said, “Sorry, Mama, I…” He trailed off, adrenaline starting to wane. He didn't need to say more though, because Mama knew instantly.
“It's alright, dear boy. Go rest. You've had a long day.”
They bid goodbye, and he slumped against his seat as his eyes drooped. His head hurt, but instead of lancing pain, it had now calmed down to the throbbing sort. He really should sleep, regardless of the inevitable nightmares.
He only hoped Satoru was having a better night, because Hikaru was going to bully him into a wrestling match as soon as their missions were done.
___
“So Hikaru-san is fine then?”
“Yep, our mother just called back. He's probably asleep back at the dorms by now.”
“Who's Hikaru?”
“Satoru’s brother. What are you doing still up, Riko-chan?”
“I'm not a child!”
“You’re a middle schooler, so practically a baby. Go to your room.”
“Hey! You don't get to order me arououhuhhh…”
“Haha, the baby's yawning!”
“Riko, they're right. You have a big day tomorrow.”
“But Kurooiiiiiii…”
“We'll be on our way now, Gojo-sama, Geto-sama. Good night.”
“Good night.”
“Niiiiight.”
“...”
“...”
“Are you sure it's okay for you to stay up all night?”
“Relax, it's not my first time doing this. I can still fight just fine tomorrow. Just go get your beauty sleep while I take care of whichever idiot decides to attack.”
“Hah, alright, if you're sure. Good night, Satoru.”
“Good night…”
___
Fushiguro Toji was meticulous. He made sure to be when his opponents this time included one of the Gojo brats and one Special Grade upstart. The first step, of course, was separating the twin powerhouses in the first place.
It was mere coincidence that he caught wind of an auction with Grade 3 to Grade 1 cursed objects in its itinerary. Since it already had a few curse users attending on their own volition, it was a simple matter sending an anonymous tip to Jujutsu Tech and waiting for them to send someone in. It was a bit of a gamble, since they could have sent the curse-eater instead, but the intel he gathered made it seem like the higher ups preferred when the brothers were not together on one mission. So he banked on that, and for once, it paid off. It was an even simpler matter to leak that information to the people desperate enough to take up Gojo Hikaru’s renewed bounty before setting up the Star Plasma Vessel's own.
If the kid died, it wasn't Toji’s problem. If he lived, then that would be an inconvenience, but it still gave Toji time to deal with the other two Special Grade sorcerers and get the Star Plasma Vessel dead or alive. The younger Gojo was apparently prone to crashing after longer missions anyway.
So, he waited. He waited as the curse-eater indulged the Vessel's requests, as the Six Eyes tired himself out with fodder. He watched as they made their way up the never-ending stairs of Jujutsu High, bantering all the way, and slowly crept close.
Then, when the Gojo brat finally relaxed, Toji struck with a katana straight to his abdomen. It wasn't enough to take the teenager down, but from how slow he was to retaliate, Toji had no doubts he could take the famed Six Eyes here and now. He ignored as the curse-eater ran ahead with the Vessel and her maid. He'd catch up to them sooner or later anyway, he just had to deal with this brat as swiftly as possible.
And if Toji was anything other than a Heavenly Restricted monkey, he was a fast one.
He used the surrounding trees and buildings to his advantage, whizzing about to dodge those freaky eyes and the literal earth-shattering attacks he couldn't even see. He almost whistled in appreciation when the brat destroyed everything in their immediate vicinity using Blue just so Toji didn't have anywhere to bounce off of. Anyone else would have been shitting their pants at the sheer power.
Unfortunately for him, Toji wasn't just anyone. He released the many thousand flyheads from their convenient storage just lounging over his shoulder, and when the kid turned away, he went to town with it. A nasty grin split his face when the Inverted Spear of Heaven successfully penetrated Infinity and pierced straight through Gojo Satoru's throat, bright red spilling from those pale lips.
Hah, a living god, they called him, and yet here he was, bleeding red just like everyone else.
He dragged the blade from the throat down to the torso, cutting flesh that yielded like butter and spraying blood all over. He stabbed the thigh a few times too on the way down before sweeping his own legs and burying the blade into the boy's forehead as he fell forward, all the way to the hilt.
By the time he was done, Gojo Satoru was a bloody masterpiece on the rubble of his own making. Toji flicked the blade, his grin never once leaving his face. “Looks like I've still got it.”
And that should have been it. He should have been able to catch up to his target then, get the other two out of the way and kill the girl before delivering her corpse to that cult, then going home with millions more yen in his bank account.
But then his instincts screamed, making him turn around to see a tall figure at the edge of the crater.
“Satoru!” came a strangled shout, and it was only from years of experience that Toji managed to dodge the sword swing that gouged the earth where he had been standing. Gojo Hikaru was in his face in a split second, his visage warped to an enraged snarl.
Toji dodged and parried what he could with a saber he pulled out of his storage curse, taking advantage of the times where his opponent overreached to get a kick or slice in. He didn't allow himself to panic, but damn, this kid was good. Toji could appreciate good martial skill when he saw it.
Still, he had a deadline to catch. There wouldn't be a body to turn over if the Star Plasma Vessel successfully fused with Tengen. So, in a calculated manner, he let the boy's sword get close enough to slice his waist however slightly, only to dodge at the last second to drive his own weapon into his opponent's ribs.
The metal heated up to molten red upon contact, yet still drove into the kid's lungs and made him gasp a breath. He should have tried to pull away, as would be expected of anyone else, much less a powerful, pampered brat of the Gojo family.
And yet, aside from that gasp, Gojo Hikaru didn't flinch, and Toji found himself looking at the useless eye usually hidden behind a curtain of hair. Something dark had crept into the whites of that eye, the milky iris and pupil remaining unfocused still. Toji felt his heart stutter before he realized the claws coming straight for his eyes.
He turned his head to the side and leapt back, abandoning his weapon in the boy's torso, and felt warm fluid spill from his left eye. Damn it. He closed the damaged eye on instinct, ignoring how it burned fuck his face was burning and watched warily as Gojo Hikaru heaved rattling breaths, saber still lodged in his ribs. From the look in his eyes, he wasn’t about to let him get away, and Toji was sure it would take more than that to keep the brat down.
Just as they were about to go at it again, a choking wet cough interrupted the staredown. Toji watched the teen tense up and look behind him, a feeble, “Satoru?” escaping his mouth, and decided to book it while the boy was distracted. He could still make it, fucked up eye notwithstanding.
He sprinted as fast as he could, but in his rush, he barely noticed the younger Gojo make a split second decision to throw his cursed sword at the fleeing assassin. He tilted his body just enough to not get skewered, but not enough to avoid his right arm getting a deep cut instead. He didn't stop or look back still, quickly finding the entrance to the underground passages and cursing as he failed to open his injured eye.
Well. He made quick work on choking the maid who had been making her way back up, pulling out a handgun from the storage curse on his shoulder. Better make it quick then.
Just in time, he saw the silhouettes of two teenagers close to the edge of the underground crater. Were they seriously having a heart-to-heart? Fuck that. He took aim and pulled the trigger.
Maybe he was more rusty than expected; maybe he was actually more exhausted than he thought after fighting two of the strongest sorcerers around; maybe his injuries fucked up his movements and depth perception more than he realized. Whatever the reason, when he pulled the trigger for a headshot of the girl, his aim ended up just slightly off and pierced her clavicle instead of her temple.
“Ack!”
“What–”
The curse-eater whirled around instantly, placing himself between Toji and the vessel, who had fallen to the floor curled up in pain, and Toji had to grimace when he felt a gigantic curse be thrown at him. He just pulled out another sword and took it apart easily enough.
“Riko-chan, run!” Geto Suguru shouted, moving his hand to suggest he was summoning another curse. Or maybe a few more. Toji couldn't see and didn't care.
The curse-eater shouted for her to run, yet where else could the vessel go when the fight was blocking the only viable exit? While the assassin was steadily slicing through Geto's curses, it was with plenty of hesitation that she dragged her body closer to the edge of the crater.
When Toji finally injured his opponent enough to knock him out, Amanai Riko was already stumbling down past the ancient buildings and going straight for the giant tree-like structure at the center. Tengen, who had been waiting and waiting, eagerly embraced the poor child running to her death.
In the aftermath, Fushiguro Toji was nowhere to be seen.
___
“Where are they?”
“Satoru?! What…”
“Oh, Hikaru! You're here! Where's that bastard?”
“Wait, Satoru, you're–”
“I'm fine! Feeling better than ever, even! Reverse Cursed Technique is amazing! All the more reason to find that bastard and blast him apart!”
“Sato–”
“Stay here for a bit, ‘mkay? Big brother's feeling great and is about to go hunting!”
“Wait!”
(Hikaru stared at where his brother disappeared, the only other evidence he was there being the destroyed landscape and the puddle of blood where he once laid. Satoru was dead, and then he wasn't. Satoru had started laughing like a madman, spouting nonsensical things before just disappearing. And Hikaru just sat there, a sword still stuck between his ribs, and feeling like he lost his brother anyway.)
___
Fushiguro Megumi looked up at the weird-looking teenager who had been following him since he got out of school. “Whaddya want?” he drawled.
The older boy made a face. “Geh. You look just like him, what the hell.”
Tall, white hair, really dark shades, and a school uniform with large swirly buttons. Yeah, Megumi had no idea who this was, but everything about him screamed trouble. He didn't know what to do with the guy, or what he would do to him, but…
Megumi was struck with the feeling that his very short life would be turned upside down in an instant.
(He was right, because a few seconds later, the teen said, “Your dad's dead”, and Megumi found that he could care less.)