Chapter Text
Suguru arrived too late.
That was the first, simplest truth. It landed in his chest without ceremony, a flat, dead thing that refused to soften no matter how many times he turned it over. Too late to stop it. Too late to fix it. Too late to make meaning out of anything that had already gone wrong.
His footsteps echoed through the corridor, too loud, too fast. His heart hammered against his ribs like something trying to escape. He should have been here sooner. Should have been faster. Should have, should have, should have—
The hallway opened into a wide chamber.
And there.
There.
Satoru lay on a raised platform, arranged like an offering. Arms crossed over his chest. Eyes closed. His face was too pale, alabaster white, porcelain smooth, beautiful and terrible and wrong. They had cleaned him, dressed him in white ceremonial robes. Beside him, smaller and just as still: Riko Amanai. Her uniform was gone, replaced with that same white fabric. Her hands were folded over her stomach. Peaceful. Serene. Dead.
Suguru's vision swam. There were people—dozens of them, perhaps a hundred—filling the chamber. Old men in dark robes. Middle-aged women with their hands clasped in prayer. Young believers with tears streaming down their faces. They were clapping. Celebrating. Some were crying, overcome with the joy of it.
"The impure vessel has been cleansed!"
"Master Tengen is saved!"
"Praise be, praise be!"
Their voices layered over each other, a cacophony of gratitude and relief and joy, and Suguru couldn't believe it. Gojo Satoru didn't die. Satoru was the strongest. Satoru was infinite. Satoru was supposed to be immortal, untouchable, impossible to kill. But there he was, still and silent and dead dead dead. That mouth that never stopped talking, never stopped grinning, never stopped saying Suguru's name with as if it was the punchline to a joke only the two of them understood—
Suguru walked forward and the crowd parted for him, still clapping, still celebrating, and he wanted to scream. Wanted to vomit. Wanted to summon every curse left within his soul and paint these walls red.
Up close it was worse. They'd tried to hide the wound beneath the robes, but Suguru could see it clearly now; a slash across the throat. The blood had been washed away, but Suguru knew it had been there. Had poured out of Satoru like he was anything, anyone, just another body that could bleed and break and end.
"Satoru?" His voice cracked on the name.
Nothing. No response. No smile. No "Suguruuu~ you're so dramatic." No beautiful blue eyes opening to laugh at him for worrying.
He needed to think. Think. But the sounds. The clapping. The cheering. The pounding in his head. He couldn't focus. They needed to shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Their faces blurred together, normal faces, human faces, grotesque in their ordinariness. He hated them. Old men with trembling hands. Young women with painted lips. Kill them. Boys. Girls. Old crones with missing teeth. The pain in his temples flared, and for a moment he swore he could feel it crackling through his veins, a current of anger and disgust so hot it threatened to incinerate him from within.
Suguru had wanted things he never told anyone; he had wanted the space between Satoru and him to collapse to nothing. He had wanted mornings and arguments and the mundane beauty of growing old together. He had wanted to see Satoru with laugh lines carved deep at the corners of his eyes, had wanted the white of his hair dulled by time. He had wanted decades; wanted to complain about aching joints and bad weather, to watch the seasons change without counting missions between them. Had wanted a future so ordinary it would have been almost boring.
He had wanted more than almost.
"Are you a friend of the deceased?" An old man's voice. "I'm sorry for your loss, but you must understand that this was necessary. This was—"
"Necessary?" Suguru repeated. The word tasted like ash.
"Yes. The girl was impure. She would have—"
Suguru's cursed energy exploded outward. He didn't mean to, but love was a peculiar thing—it could be transmuted, alchemized into rage, into hate, into a curse so potent it could crack stone. Come back, his soul screamed. Come back, come back, you can't leave me here alone with them, you can't, Satoru, Satoru, SATORU—
It started with the chest. A bulging, a great swelling beneath the white robes as something pushed outward from within. Skin tore, ribs cracked, and from the cavities between them, something emerged.
Bandages first. Strips of white linen that lay wrapped around an inhuman form. Then eyes, six of them, brilliant blue, each as large as Suguru's fist, arranged in pairs along what might have been a head. The pupils were slits, all six tracking the room around them independently before snapping in unison to focus on Suguru.
The thing pulled itself free of Satoru's corpse. It had too many joints in the limbs, was made up of too many angles. The bandages wrapped around it shifted and moved, revealing glimpses of something beneath: skin that was too white, too smooth, porcelain-perfect and inhuman.
It had hands. Too many fingers on each. And when it opened its mouth, there were too many teeth.
For all the strangeness, the eyes were all Suguru could focus on. Those terrible predatory blue eyes that watched him. He felt it then; the binding thread between his soul and this thing, this curse that had crawled out of Satoru's body and was looking at him with six blue eyes full of devotion and hunger and love. He knew those eyes.
"Su-guru," it said. The voice was layered, multiple tones speaking in harmony, some high, some low, all of them somehow familiar. "Suguru hurts."
Love is the most twisted curse of all.
"Suguru hurts," the curse repeated. It tilted its head. "Kill them?"
The question was so gentle. So earnest. Like it was asking if Suguru wanted tea.
"Should kill them," it said, softer now. One of its too-long hands reached out, touched Suguru's face with fingers that were cold and wrong but so, so careful. "Made Suguru hurt. Should kill. Should—"
"Satoru?"
All six eyes blinked. "Was Satoru. Am Satoru. Am—" It paused, head tilting the other direction. "Am yours. Suguru's. Bound."
The word bound echoed through him, lodged somewhere between his ribs and his throat, and suddenly his vision blurred. He hadn’t noticed the tears starting, hadn’t felt them until one slipped free and struck the curse’s hand, darkening the bandage. Another followed. Then another. His shoulders hitched, breath stuttering, and he hated himself for how quickly he broke apart.
This is Satoru’s hand, he knew. This is how he used to grab my sleeve when he wanted my attention. This is him. It’s him. It has to be him.
"Kill them?" the curse asked again. Its hand was still on Suguru's face, thumb stroking the tears away. "Suguru wants. Can feel. Suguru hates. Suguru wants them gone. Can make gone. Easy. So easy."
It was right. Suguru did want them gone. Wanted them dead. Wanted to watch the light leave their eyes the way it had left Satoru's. Wanted to make them hurt. Wanted to make them pay.
He could do it. All he had to do was say the word, and this thing would slaughter them all.
It would also make Suguru a murderer and prove every terrible thing the jujutsu world whispered about curse manipulators. About the corruption that came from swallowing curses, about the madness that waited at the end of that path.
It would make him no better than the higher ups Satoru and he had despised.
Suguru closed his eyes. Breathed. The curse's hand was still on his face, cold and careful and waiting.
"No," he said. "Don't kill them. We're leaving."
"But Suguru wants—"
"I know." Suguru opened his eyes, met that six-eyed gaze. "I know what I want. But we're not doing this."
The curse stared at him and slowly, it withdrew its hand. The bandages wrapped tighter around its form, compressing, reducing. The six eyes dimmed slightly. "As Suguru says."
It followed him out of the compound. Behind them, the clapping faded to silence.
Incident Report
Date: May 25, 2006
Prepared by: [Redacted]
Filed Under: Death of the Star Plasma Vessel / Emergence of Special Grade Curse / Star Religious Group Incident
Subject:
Failure of the Star Plasma Vessel Protection Mission and Manifestation of Unclassified Special Grade Curse ("Six Eyes Remnant")
Location:
Religious Compound, [Location Redacted], Tokyo Prefecture
Summary of Events
On May 25, 2006, the Star Plasma Vessel, Amanai Riko (14), was confirmed deceased prior to her scheduled assimilation with Master Tengen. The mission to escort her was led by second-year Jujutsu High students Gojo Satoru (16) and Geto Suguru (16) and ultimately ended in failure due to the intervention of contracted assassin Fushiguro Toji.
Both Amanai Riko and Gojo Satoru were confirmed dead at the Star Religious Group compound at approximately 1447 hours, with Gojo having succumbed to a fatal neck wound reportedly inflicted by Fushiguro. Amanai's death occurred by gunshot.
Subsequently, an unprecedented cursed energy phenomenon was triggered by Geto Suguru’s arrival at the compound. Witness accounts and residual energy signatures confirm the postmortem manifestation of a curse originating from Gojo’s corpse, designated “Six Eyes Remnant” (Provisional Classification: Special Grade).
Geto Suguru returned to Tokyo Jujutsu High with the entity in tow, asserting exclusive control over it and refusing exorcism. The curse has displayed no independent hostility to date but exhibits intense fixation on Geto. The implications are unknown and require immediate containment protocols and long-term observation.
Timeline of Events
1345 Hours: Gojo Satoru engages Fushiguro Toji. Details are scarce; presumed single combat. Gojo confirmed killed on-site via slash across the throat.
1415 Hours: Amanai Riko confirmed deceased. Her body was transported by unknown means to the compound of the Star Religious Group.
1447 Hours: Geto Suguru arrives at the religious compound and locates both bodies. Eyewitness testimony records a massive surge in cursed energy centered on Geto, immediately followed by the manifestation of the Six Eyes Remnant.
1450–1500 Hours: Entity emerges from Gojo's corpse, fully formed, and interacts exclusively with Geto Suguru. The crowd present reports no casualties, despite close proximity to the manifestation.
1505-1630 Hours: Geto Suguru departs compound with entity, arriving at Tokyo Jujutsu High voluntarily. Despite recommendations for immediate exorcism, Geto has refused to allow the spirit's destruction.
Key Observations
- Termination of the Star Plasma Vessel
The failure to protect Amanai constitutes a critical breach of duty and an existential threat to the Jujutsu system. Without assimilation, Tengen-sama’s barrier stability is severely compromised, with early-stage destabilization already observed across multiple points. - Death of Gojo Satoru
The loss of Gojo represents the termination of the Six Eyes Lineage and the unprecedented manifestation of a cursed spirit "Six Eyes Remnant" post-mortem. - Education of Geto Suguru
Geto continues his studies at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The cursed spirit designated "Six Eyes Remnant" remains with him at all times. Geto has expressed interest in remaining at Jujutsu High after graduation to pursue a teaching position.
Conclusions and Recommendations
- Immediate Monitoring
Geto Suguru’s continued proximity to the manifested curse is necessary for its containment. However, psychological degradation is expected and must be tracked closely. Long-term control of the entity is not guaranteed. - Barrier Stabilization Measures
Master Tengen’s instability may result in barrier collapse if unaddressed. Investigations into alternative vessels or containment methods should be prioritized immediately. - Public Relations Management
The Star Religious Group has released conflicting statements to civilian media. Official briefings frame the deaths as a failed extremist ritual. Information suppression teams have been deployed.
Addendum:
Geto Suguru’s instructor request has been provisionally approved, contingent on successful psychological evaluation and daily reporting. Proximity to Tokyo Jujutsu High administrators will ensure early detection of future anomalies.
This report has been classified under the highest confidentiality.
Access restricted to authorized personnel only.
End of Report
Ten Months Later…
The cherry blossoms along the training grounds were blooming again, pale pink against a sky so blue it hurt to look at. Spring arrived whether you wanted it or not. The petals would fall. Summer would come. Time, that cruel and indifferent thing, marched forward.
"Again," Suguru said, pen hovering over his clipboard.
The training dummy exploded into hundreds of tiny splinters when the cursed technique reversal: red hit it, crumbling into itself. It was a clean and efficient strike. Almost elegant.
The spirit turned all six eyes toward him. "Good?"
"Very good," Suguru confirmed and the curse gave a sound in return, something between a purr and a hum.
"You're spoiling it."
Suguru didn't turn around. He would recognize Shoko’s voice under any circumstance. "I'm not spoiling anything, this is just standard training."
"Uh-huh." Shoko took a long drag, eyes tracking the curse as it settled beside Suguru like some enormous, inhuman dog. "That thing killed three dummies last week. You gave it praise every time."
"Positive reinforcement is an established pedagogical technique."
"It's a cursed spirit, Suguru. Not a student."
His six eyes swiveled toward Shoko and though he didn't speak, Suguru felt the shift in his attention, the way his cursed energy prickled "Easy," Suguru murmured, and reached out without thinking, placing his hand on what might have been the spirit’s head, fingers sliding through bandages to rest against something solid and cold beneath. The curse went still immediately, all six eyes half-closing.
"You two have become quite domestic." Shoko flicked ash onto the ground. "So. Are you still serious about this teaching thing?"
Suguru's hand stilled for a moment. "Yes."
"Even with them breathing down your neck?" Shoko jerked her chin toward the administrative building, where Suguru knew at least three members of the higher-ups' staff were currently stationed. Monitoring. Always monitoring. "They're not going to make it easy."
"I don't need easy, I just need to be here." It was a fair concern. Shoko had been second-guessing his determination for months now, each time with a little more concern, a little more fear that Suguru was breaking under all that pressure.
He resumed the petting, thumb moving in absent circles on the spirit. "Someone has to teach the next generation how to survive this world. How to be better than what came before, and it's not going to be those fossils up there who sent two sixteen-year-olds to die on a mission that should have had backup. It's not going to be the people who looked at Riko Amanai and saw a vessel instead of a child."
The curse shifted closer, his presence had become a strange comfort. All six eyes had fixed on Shoko now, unblinking. "Suguru good teacher. Will protect students. Will protect Suguru."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Shoko muttered. She took another drag. "The higher-ups are talking, you know. Saying you're unstable. Dangerous. That the curse is a liability."
"They are liability. Old. Weak. Afraid. Can kill them for Suguru. Would be easy. So easy."
"No killing," Suguru said automatically.
"They do not like Suguru. See them watching. See them planning. Hear them say Suguru should be controlled. Should be—" The curse's head tilted. "Can make them stop. Can make them gone."
"I know you can." Suguru reached down, placed his hand against what might have been the curse's cheek. "But we're not doing that. Not yet."
Not yet. The words had slipped out before he could stop them, and Shoko's eyes sharpened.
"Suguru—"
"I'm not going to kill anyone, Shoko. I'm also not going to bow and scrape and pretend that everything is fine. The system is rotten. You know it. I know it. Even they know it, they just don't care because it serves them." He pulled his hand back, and the curse made a small sound of protest before settling. "I'm going to make sure the next generation of sorcerers actually survives to adulthood. I'm going to protect the students the way no one protected—" His voice caught. He swallowed hard. "If the higher-ups have a problem with that? They can come say it to my face."
"And Satoru will kill them," the curse added helpfully.
"No, Satoru—" Suguru took a moment, the name still felt like broken glass in his mouth. "No killing."
The cherry blossoms drifted down like snow, catching in Suguru's hair, on the curse's bandages, dissolving into nothing on Shoko's cigarette ember. "You're going to get yourself killed," she said finally.
"Maybe." Suguru picked up his clipboard again. "But at least I'll die trying to fix something instead of just swallowing it down and pretending everything is fine."
He did not mention that he was already dead in every way that mattered. Had died the moment he'd walked into that compound and seen Satoru laid out like that. Had died when he'd made the choice to bind Satoru's soul to his own rather than let him go.
What was one more death, really, in the service of making sure no one else had to die the way they had?
"Suguru tired," the curse said quietly. "Should rest."
"I'm fine."
"Always working. Always thinking." The curse leaned down, and Suguru felt the cool press of bandages against his temple. "Suguru should rest."
Suguru closed his eyes and let himself lean into the touch. Sometimes he could pretend it truly was Satoru touching him like that. When he opened them again, Shoko was still watching.
"For what it's worth," she said, "I think you'd be a good teacher. Better than most of the bastards here, anyway."
"High bar," Suguru said dryly.
"Mm." Shoko stubbed out her cigarette. "Just... don't lose yourself completely in this revenge quest or redemption arc or whatever the fuck this is. Some of us would like you to survive it."