Chapter Text
Besu giggles at Geto as he walks beside her, unbothered by Gojo’s usual antics. While Gojo and Besu often feed on each others’ chaotic energy, Geto acts as their emotional stabilizer. When Gojo first introduced Geto, Besu couldn’t deny her concerns. As daughter of the Curse King, she’d grown accustomed to being used as an advantageous pawn to get to her father.
Which meant she expected to be shouldered aside in favor of someone better than her.
Now? The three of them hang out all the time. Her father doesn’t seem fond of the idea that she’s best friends with two boys, but even she has started to notice the small smile he has every time she rambles to him about their misadventures.
“Satoru, you’re too confident for your own good.” Geto sighs, shaking his head with some amusement.
“C’mooonn, Suguru! You know the three of us could take on anyone!” Gojo smirks and nudges Besu for backup. “What do you think, Besu?”
“I can’t make a comment on this.” She chuckles. “I’m sure we could hold our own, but I’d rather not tempt fate at the ripe age of thirteen.”
“You’re no fun!” Gojo pokes her cheek and she smacks his hand.
“While you may be pure chaos, Satoru, Besu actually has a logical head on her shoulders to balance out her chaotic behavior.” Geto says.
“Yeah, but if I had asked her without you around she would have agreed!” Gojo leans his head on Besu’s shoulder with a dazzling simper on his lips. “Wouldn’t you, Besu?”
“Satoru, I am not fighting the world to satisfy your appetite for destruction.” Besu snorts, ruffling his hair to make him get off of her. “If I was going to do that, I’d have joined my father’s crusades across the country long before now.”
“We can invite him, too!” Gojo encourages.
“I’m sure you’d have his blessing.” Geto adds with a playful nudge.
“But you surely wouldn’t have mine.” Baekho rumbles, swirling into existence by Besu’s feet. “Just because you are capable of great destruction doesn’t mean you should cause it.”
“Party pooper!” Gojo stage-whispers to Geto.
“Aren’t you supposed to be yin to the dragon’s yang? The most fearsome auspicious beast meant to cause wanton destruction?” Geto raises his eyebrows.
“Just because I am capable of great destruction does not mean I should cause it.” Baekho reiterates. “I am known to be a harbinger of death and destruction, but that does not mean it is all that I am. At my core, I am not unlike Besu here.” Besu feels peace in the coolness of her tiger’s cursed energy as Baekho rubs her misty head against her hand.
“Are you saying we should fear Besu as we fear you?”
“Baekho isn’t scary!” Besu frowns at Geto. “She’s my friend!”
“I believe he’s talking of a different type of fear, Cub.” Baekho chuffs. “He speaks of a fear that strikes awe into the hearts of men. To answer your question, young Suguru, yes. Though I am perhaps biased a bit in favor of my own cub. She has a ways to go, though, before she earns her stripes.”
“Why do you call Besu your cub? Did you and her dad have a little too much fun in the spirit realm?” Gojo snickers.
“No. I call Besu my cub just as I would call any of you my cubs. Though I am known for destruction, most of it has only ever been created in the thralls of my own protective nature for humanity. I’m sure you’ve also heard tales of my dedication to justice and morality.”
“Suguru!” A faint, female voice calls as the group closes in on Geto’s house. “It’s almost past your curfew! Come on!”
“Thank you, Baekho, for your time and insight.” Geto gives her a bow before giving his goodbyes and jogging the rest of the way home.
“Ugh. Don’t you ever get tired of defending the weak, though, Baekho?” Gojo pouts.
“It is all a matter of perspective, young Satoru.” Baekho rumbles. “If you only see people as a measure of weakness or strength, then you’ve missed out on the most beautiful part of humanity. You’ve reduced everyone to nothing more than common beasts based on your own subjective ideals.”
“Subjective? Everyone knows what strength or weakness looks like!”
“You know what it looks like to you, perhaps. And there is a communal view of strength and weakness for the majority, surely. But look at Besu. Do you think she’s weak?”
“Of course not! She was taught by the King of Curses and you’ve attached your spirit to her.” Gojo scoffs. “Who would be dumb enough to call that weak?”
Besu shrinks a little and declines her head as they round another corner; in her insecurity, she misses a flash of black hair moving into the shadows.
“And yet Besu believes herself to be weak and unfit to be your friend. Mere physical strength is not the only measure of strength as a whole.” Baekho’s ears twitch and she halts, eyes trained on the empty streets ahead. Her head tilts back to the alley behind them. “Sometimes strength lies in being the weakest and still enduring every hit landed. Sometimes strength lies in being strong and knowing you still need help. And sometimes,” Baekho bares her teeth as her pupils shrink at the dark alley across from them. “Strength lies down an abandoned alleyway.”
Besu turns her head when a man flies from the alley, honed in on Gojo. Of course, he never makes it past Baekho.
Instinctively, Besu shoves Gojo behind her, analyzing the moves of this strange man. Black hair. Scar on his lip. Oh no. Just like she’d known Satoru Gojo at first glance, Besu’s father had warned her about Toji Fushiguro. While the Curse King might have no issue fighting such a man, Besu still had training and growing to do.
“What business do you have here?” Baekho snarls, teeth poised at Toji’s throat.
“What do you mean? You have any idea how much money I could get for Satoru Gojo’s head alone? But to find out he’s hanging with the princess of curses, well…” He chuckles. “That sounds like a two for one sale if I ever heard one.”
Besu witnesses Toji’s strength first hand as he shoves Baekho away and lunges for Gojo first, who runs headlong into the fight with a wicked grin.
“Satoru, don’t!” Besu screams, but her plea falls on deaf ears.
“I can take on this coward!” Gojo laughs, before time slows as Toji’s fist connects with the infinity of his stomach and throws him back against a building. “Try and fight me when you can’t hit me!”
What are you doing, Cub? Get up! Fight! Baekho shouts in her mind, rallying on Toji as he moves with speed rivaling her father.
Besu shakes her head and her training mindset takes over. Fighting a foe as fast and strong as Toji is second-nature, but even so, she has yet to beat her father in a sparring match. The only advantage she seems to have in this fight is a second pair of arms. There’s no way we get out of this alive. I need to warn my father. Rally your cursed energy while I hold him off! And Besu does. She focuses on the pit of her stomach like her father taught her and moves it up, up, up to the top of her head.
WHACK! Toji slammed his fist into her gut and purges the wind out of her gut. It’s nothing compared to her father’s dismantle or cleave, but it is dazing.
“You should know better than to walk unguarded, Princess.” Toji sneers.
Besu finds her mind frozen even as she fights with Baekho in a seamless dance fitting a princess of curses. But everything stops when Gojo leaps at Toji and their adversary pulls out the Inverted Spear of Heaven. Where the hell did he get that?!
“You might be fast and strong, but you still can’t hit me!” Gojo laughs.
“Gojo, stop!” Besu leaps toward him with a scream.
Her heart stops when the blade pierces Gojo’s chest and her friend’s eyes widen. When he flops to the ground in a bloody puddle, anger swirls in her gut as she flips over Toji, ripping out a chunk of his hair and then grabbing Gojo before darting down the street.
I can hold him off for a little while, Cub, but you won’t be able to run the whole way! I have to get as close to Father as I can or Satoru will die! Terror and venom seeps through her bones with every breath. Her father would be able to heal Gojo. She might die getting him there, but she’ll be damned if she lets her best friend die.
“Hang on, Satoru. Don’t die yet.” She whispers. “Dad will save you. He has to.”
Only one block stands between Besu and her castle when she surges forward from a shock wave, using one pair of arms to catch herself and the other to shelter Gojo. Besu only has time to hide him behind a car before Toji zeroes in on her, pummeling her with blows not unlike her father. An innate, feral need to rip him limb from limb causes her to grab him with a pair of hands and slam him into the nearest wall with the others.
And suddenly Besu can’t move. She defends herself half-heartedly as doubts flutter through her mind. How can she claim to be any different from her father if those dark urges for destruction eventually win over? Self-defense is one thing, but the desire for Toji’s blood? Though her father subscribes to no such niceties like compassion or love, Besu wants to break the mold and take a different path.
Baekho roars in Besu’s mind, leaping in to hold off Toji once more, the color of her spirit now a crimson red in her rage. Baekho, I have to save Satoru, but I can’t be like my father! I don’t want to be fueled by his appetite for destruction! I can’t fight Toji! Then you have condemned young Satoru to death! Besu’s lip trembles as she looks at Satoru’s body behind the car, tears mingling with her own sweat and blood at the thought of him dying. Meanwhile, Baekho fights for her relentlessly in a way she doesn’t deserve. If you stand there and do nothing, he will die. If you stand there and forsake your training, you will both die! But how can I say I’m devoted to peace when I have to stoop to such lows to reach it? What you speak of is not peace. You speak of being harmless! A true pacifist is capable of great destruction and chooses peace. Toji struggles under Baekho and a pained roar explodes from her as he frees his right side. Still she perseveres. But if you do not fight right now you are not promoting harmony or anything good. You are promoting a life of passive surrender. And you, Little One, are capable of so much more.
One final look at Satoru, his head inclined as glistening blue eyes plead with her. Help. His mouth doesn’t move, but she could swear she hears the plea uttered from his very soul.
When the angry fire rekindles in Besu’s veins, Baekho turns a different shade: purple. And suddenly Besu is unstoppable as she turns to the offensive. Her speed doubles and while Toji still manages to block every hit, she can tell he hadn’t been expecting the barrage of assaults between the two of them.
We have to end this quickly for Satoru. I don’t know how much longer he’ll live! Then let’s finish him. Use the technique your father taught you. And though Besu had never executed a dismantle or cleave successfully, she lets instinct take over as she dodges a swing of Toji’s sword and swipes two of her fingers in front of her, aiming for Toji’s throat.
When she feels the technique hit but Toji still lands with a grin, Besu stops breathing. Real fear claws into her throat as she wonders what her death might mean for the already doomed fate of Japan.
But her shoulders slump with relief when Toji’s smiling head falls off his shoulders with a thud, and the rest of his mangled body plops forward. She dashes over to Satoru and cradles him in her arms again, ignoring the burning pain saturating her every limb.
Gojo is her only concern.
“FATHER!” She yells through the mansion as she bursts through the threshold, her body immediately gives out as soon as the sanctuary of her home surrounds her.
Blood soaks the entry rug when her father’s face comes into view.
“What are you–Besu?” Annoyance gives way to alarm as Sukuna flashes to her side. “What the hell happened?!”
“Toji.” It’s the only explanation she can give as exhaustion claims her. After she sets Gojo’s limp body in front of him, she offers a desperate and tearful plea. “Dad…please don’t let Satoru die.”
Her body doesn’t wait for his answer, and the world turns black.