Work Text:
How many times had he spent his nights like this?
How many fights do the lines of his hands remember?
How many stories can fit inside a soul?
Hello, I am your narrator, and I will tell you a story, a sad and senseless story, with parts where destiny tried to be amusing. But do not worry, this story is not about me, nor about you (fortunately). This story, in fact, has no protagonist, or at least that is what I want to believe so I do not seem strange. This story is about how love, fear, and loneliness are the worst curses this world can have. Although I am afraid we will have plenty of drama and filler before we reach an interesting plot.
For now, our characters are sorcerers, wrapped in certain problems, and a teacher who has been in mourning for several years. If you are patient with this narrator who tends to change topics every four seconds, perhaps you will enjoy this. For now, let us focus on Gojo Satoru.
The moon was his only companion. Once again, he found himself missing with all his strength his only spring, trying to cling to the memory of dreams they could not fulfill. The heart of the never-emotional Gojo Satoru tightened again and again at the memory of his companion, until dawn.
Now he was no longer alone… at least he wanted to convince himself of that. He has responsibilities now, he is the strongest. And he must protect his students.
The feeling of mourning disappeared for a second when he smiled remembering his students, Yuuji, Megumi, and Kugisaki… his job was to protect them from everything, even from the higher-ups of Jujutsu school. They were his children, and he would give his life, that was certain, if it ensured them a future of calm and safety.
Megumi Fushiguro was the closest and at the same time the most distant, and he got on his nerves. Oh, and sometimes he would appear with wet hair, damn it, it scared him, he was too similar to his father. (Someone has trauma with a certain Zenin.)
On the other hand, Nobara Kugisaki was very independent, but still, she was a teenager who needed support and company. She was energetic and strongly emphasized that being a woman would never be something that held her back as a sorcerer.
And finally, Itadori Yuuji. What can we say about him?
He was the youngest and purest boy Gojo had known, and at the same time, the one who needed the most protection. He was the vessel of the King of Curses. And the higher-ups wanted to exterminate him before he became more dangerous… if that was even possible.
Gojo felt a chill, trying to pretend that the memory of his best friend was not leaking through when thinking of his own students, a cruel game of his mind, reminding him of good and bad things from his own youth. His greatest fear now was that his story would repeat itself with Megumi and Yuuji, when Megumi could not save his best friend from a bitter fate.
His long night of two hours of rest faded once the sun appeared in the sky.
He rubbed his eyes and sighed, with a horrible headache squeezing his neurons. He possessed great cursed abilities, Infinity and the Six Eyes, and just as the name says, a curse that fries his brain because he receives visual information of everything, all the time, everywhere, and that does not spare his mind, attacking it with memories he cannot erase with sleep because of insomnia. Was this the price of being the strongest?
He headed toward Jujutsu. The life of a teacher like Gojo Satoru typically begins… arguing with the directors, then “having breakfast” with his students, listening to what they wanted to train, listening to Sukuna trying to mock him, and at times letting his mind wander to a world where he would be a teacher alongside his best friend. Did that possibility exist? Satoru would give everything to see Suguru alive again at his side.
“SENSEI!!!!”
The shout was perhaps unnecessary, but it was enough to pull Gojo out of that dark hole in his mind. It was Yuuji.
Is it not too early to have this much energy in the morning? Damn it, Megumi would kill him if he tried to wake him at this hour, or he would find a way to make his demon dogs not let him enter his own house (that is what Gojo thought). He could only sigh and greet his student with that very… unique, old diva personality he had.
“Ohh, but if it is my lovely favorite student, how is your pet?”
By pet he meant…
“Sukuna? He would not stop babbling all night about how he will defeat you someday. Is there any way to shut him up? He does not let me sleep.”
“There might be something, although you know, to silence him you just have to agree with him. Although we all know that will never happen, ha ha~”
“Move those legs, Megumi-chan! Do not let Maki catch you.”
Watching his students train with the second-years after a breakfast where everyone seemed to have a strange addiction to coffee that he himself could not deny, somehow put him in a good mood. In general. There was simply too much peace. Perhaps too much. And that made him nauseous.
He knew the elders were planning something. They never forgave Gojo for the death of the young girl who was to merge with Tengen. Riko Amanai.
There was no chance they would let his protection of Yuuji pass as mere teacher concern. They would see it as a rebellious act. It was nothing new that the Most Powerful Sorcerer showed rejection or annoyance toward the elders of the sorcery council. And deep down, Gojo Satoru was anxious because not even with all the power in the world could he guarantee he could keep his students safe, or that the council was not planning something right now. He could not guarantee that his current allies would not betray him. Gojo could not guarantee that he had this situation under control. He would be lying if he said he was not anxious.
For now, he could only keep this in his mind and let the kids be kids.
Maki swept the ground, and now Megumi had fallen face-first into the grass. Panda seemed to be enjoying himself with Yuuji over a strange punching technique that even Gojo himself doubted existed. Nobara was cheering Maki on. Inumaki, on the other hand, said it was too hot to train under the sun… or at least that was what everyone’s intuition told them. After all, who understands a “Tuna, pollock, tunini”?
Now it was Yuuji’s turn to fight Maki.
And who is Maki, anyway? Maki Zenin is a second-year student at Jujutsu High, one of the best in weapon usage, since she had to maintain a firm advantage. After all, she had no cursed energy, she could not see it, she used special glasses and weapons that allowed her to fight at the same level as the rest. And many respected her for that, because she was an excellent sorcerer despite her young age.
And since Maki was so advanced in weapon combat, it would be unfair to fight hand-to-hand, so Gojo handed both of them cursed weapons, fairly balanced. They looked like swords. Maki had the advantage, which was good (in a way). Gojo wanted his student to learn to fight with different resources and styles. The same with Nobara, to whom he gave a lighter sword so she could practice with Panda how to use and hold a weapon in a fight. He knew Director Yaga would not be happy to see his stuffed animal full of holes, but if it helped, Panda had volunteered. That is what everyone would say. A merciful lie.
“WOAAHHH—”
Something similar to a Black Flash struck Panda. Yuuji went flying, both of them rolled a few meters and then laughed. Yuuji almost had the technique Nanami had taught him. Gojo felt proud. That boy could be the next great sorcerer in this world.
He could not help but look at his students with nostalgia. He only wanted them to live with happiness and peace.
It was Nobara’s turn. She handled the sword well, too well in fact. Gojo even thought that perhaps her good hand with weapons was because she was a woman. She had good rhythm and precision, although she needed to work on her endurance. She put Fushiguro in trouble several times. Between the sword and the ground, Nobara attacked from the right, and if Fushiguro had not moved at that instant, Nobara would have cut more than a uniform sleeve.
But it did not go much further. Nobara stopped when her body could not give more, breathing heavily.
“I almost beat you—” Nobara said, barely catching her breath, her hands on her knees.
“You said it yourself, almost. Keep training if you want to touch me,” Fushiguro replied without any expression on his face, brushing the dust off his uniform. He did not like being the test subject of the group. He was the most experienced and the most trained in his group. He should not be training with novices, much less being the sacrifice. It should be Gojo, not him. He would make Gojo pay for his uniform. After all, that should not be a problem for him.
And when Fushiguro tried to find him with his eyes to complain, Gojo was no longer there.
Gojo’s POV:
I walked through the school corridors. Shoko had asked me to come. An emergency.
“It’s gone. His body.”
It froze me to the bone hearing that. I did not need details. I knew what she was talking about.
I wanted to leave the infirmary and run to the place where with my own hands I buried him. To check that it was true, that this knot in my throat was only from missing him and not from the pain of imagining someone taking Geto’s body to manipulate me. Because that would work on me.
But I could not.
I placed my hands over my face. Not even Infinity made me feel protected at this point.
“Why?” I asked myself mentally.
“I need to talk to you before—”
Shoko said something else, but I did not hear it. I did not want to. My head was spinning and I simply was not there.
I headed toward the door, but before I could leave, the leader of the Zenin clan appeared. They had come looking for Shoko. Obviously, they did not expect to see me there.
“Gojo Satoru~ What a pleasure to see you here.”
“Naobito Zenin—”
I looked him up and down, searching for any clue in this egocentric old man that could tell me what he wanted by coming here.
Shoko also seemed tense. They were hiding something.
“Shoko…?”
I asked, looking through her, trying to decipher what she had wanted to tell me before.
“I think it is time for you to leave, boy. We have things to discuss.”
I was not in the best moment to receive orders, much less to be treated like that. They had something to do with everything that was happening.
Shoko gave me a silent nod and gestured for me to leave. Deep down, that felt like betrayal.
I left, but I did not go completely.
Something was bringing the deads back.
Your sweet, sexy and handsome narrator again (mwah)
“Shoko, for your own good I recommend you keep this between us. You know well that unlike that idiot, you are fragile. You do not have an Infinity that prevents us from touching you.”
Naobito Zenin’s voice was low, barely audible to those inside the infirmary. Shoko was tense. The situation had her between a rock and a hard place. It was not safe for her, but it was not safe to speak with Gojo either. Not now. Not with his head already overloaded thinking about how Geto Suguru’s corpse disappeared. And definitely not now that Satoru himself doubted her.
He already had enough people to protect. Half the students and himself. Gojo had to watch his back since the Jujutsu council was about to give the execution order for the last living member of the Gojo Clan.
“We are going to perform a ritual to bring someone back from death. We want you to treat his body before that. We need it in its best physical condition. Just repeat what you did before.”
Shoko’s hands trembled with chills at the cold memory of how a week ago she dirtied her hands out of cowardice and did something atrocious that not even she could forgive. The memory hit her hard, making her want to step back.
All of this because of her selfishness and insecurity. Her weakness. Her jealousy. And also because of love. She could not let someone else take care of her best friend’s body.
She knew better than anyone what the Zenin wanted to do. Bring back to life people who make Gojo Satoru weak.
Shoko knew it was unforgivable. But her own head and heart were in conflict. And if she did not do it, someone else would.
She could not allow another healer to take care of Geto.
And with cold hands, she remembered when they brought Suguru’s body, pale and cold, to her metal table, with a large opening in his head. She almost fainted.
...“What did you do to his body?"
The Zenin said it was Gojo’s fault, that he had not protected the body well, and that a curse had used Suguru’s body for a time...
“Who is it now?” she asked, tense.
“The black sheep. Whether we want to or not, he has good fighting techniques… Besides, under this ritual, he is under our control. Just like your friend.”
Her throat turned bitter at the phrase, at that manipulative tone that threatened to betray her if she tried to step back.
“We will meet at the main Clan temple now. Take what you need.”
Gojo was not there to save her.
Did she deserve that? Probably he would hate her if he knew what she had done.
Now the Zenin were taking Shoko to a building that looked like a religious temple. It was slightly terrifying, even for her, who could eliminate curses. What was terrifying was that in that place, there were no curses despite how gloomy it was.
They led her into a great hall. Red walls, blue pillars, two torches on each wall, and in the middle, a stone table… or was it a tomb?
The place was chilling, and the incense made her mouth bitter. Her stomach turned. These people are insane.
Two giant, very ugly men opened the lid of that tomb. It seemed specially made to slow the decomposition process. They pulled out the body carelessly.
He was a large black-haired man. Short hair. A great wound on his left shoulder. He had no left arm. A scar on the right side of his mouth.
It was obvious that when this man died, he did so in a single blow.
It was a terrible image, even for someone experienced like Shoko.
“Your dear friend did this.”
The body on the tomb was Toji Zenin. Toji Fushiguro, by his own wish in life when he took his wife’s surname.
The comment froze her.
She had heard the story, but she had never imagined the extent of the damage Satoru was capable of, especially so long ago, when Satoru was still acting like an idiot teenager.
However, she could not avoid remembering that after that, Satoru changed a lot and definitely became “the strongest.” And also the fact that that generation, her own generation, completely fragmented. Only a few became sorcerers.
Shoko put on her gloves. Her cursed energy was ready to work. The sooner she finished, the better.
Her reverse technique activated. Cursed healing. An ironic name, if we are honest.
Power flowed through her hands. It was exhausting.
What the hell was she doing?
She felt weak.
Twenty minutes passed crawling by like years.
When she finished, the man was still dead, obviously. Who was she to revive the dead?
But his physical condition was undoubtedly improved. Only ugly scars remained. No more horrifying wounds.
As soon as she stepped away from the body, one of the men grabbed her from behind. His rough hand covered her mouth, holding her harshly.
She had no chance to escape.
It was like having heavy steel chains wrapped around her.
She watched in terror as the ritual began.
The man, whom she had heard being called “Kubota,” grabbed Shoko and slammed her face down against the ground with brutal force. He pressed his weight onto her body, crushing the air out of her lungs, while the other clan members present approached and drenched her in a dark liquid that smelled strongly of old oil and herbs.
“Hold her down. It will be her soul that we give.”
Shoko froze. This was not what had been agreed upon. She was not supposed to be involved in this. They had promised her that her job would be to heal and nothing more. The ritual was already beginning.
Shoko watched as they lit new candles. Members wearing masks appeared from who knows where, and to her horror, this was not a “common” ritual. This was not a deal with just any curse.
It was a deal with death.
The torches ignited with blue flames. A cold wind struck Shoko’s face. Ancient chants filled the air, and a man stabbing himself was the image before the grave, the blood from his wound used to draw a mark on Shoko’s forehead and on Toji’s corpse.
A terrifying white creature appeared, but only the wounded man and Shoko could see it. It was large, horrifying, ghostlike in appearance, pale red skin, a dreadful gaze, elongated claws, horns, floating above the table. It looked at everyone with superiority, and obviously, it was superior.
It was Death. The god Shinigami.
At the sight of it, Shoko fought, twisting, pushing, kicking, anything to at least move the man pinning her to the ground. She was never good at offense. Not that she was weak. She was simply a better doctor than a fighter. And since she had lived a life away from real, serious battles, now she could do nothing but feel the desperation filling her, nearly in tears and screams.
“NO—! NO— HELP!! PLEASE!”
Her voice tore. She bit her captor’s hand. He let her scream, but not even causing such a scene could free her or bring help. They were in the middle of nowhere, in a restricted area meant only for clan members. She had no hope of surviving. Not when the ritual was already halfway through, and they were offering her soul to the Shinigami, who followed no laws nor external desires. It only took what was offered.
“Oh great Shinigami, grant us the soul of Toji Zenin, and in return, we will give you the soul of a talented healer.”
The man who had stabbed himself did not even seem affected by the large sword crossing through his abdomen.
“And not only that. My own soul shall also be given.”
Two souls in exchange for one. Did they want Toji back that badly?
Shoko did not know. The more souls offered to the Shinigami, the better the condition in which it would return the soul it had taken before. They were ensuring their bargain, so that Toji would return with the greatest endurance possible. Their best warrior.
The creature looked into her eyes. No emotion. Straight into her soul. No compassion. No peace. No sadness. Treated like an object ready to be used.
The Shinigami nodded and sliced open its own stomach, releasing a translucent sphere, a soul, which fell directly into Toji’s cold body. When that happened, the Shinigami turned toward its offerings. First, it devoured the soul of the man who had invoked it. Then it went for Shoko.
She could not move. Her eyes filled with tears. Life was unfair.
Why her? Why her? Why her?
She had always tried to do good. She had suffered. She could not ask for help. She could not even defend herself, and that was shameful. She was never worthy. Now she saw everything clearly. Even though she had always held resentment toward Satoru and Suguru, she could now see it was not their fault that she was weak.
She never wanted to be in the world of Jujutsu. Why had she become a sorcerer if she did not even want it? If she never truly dedicated herself to becoming stronger, always trusting that someone else would save her. Now she was too weak to even continue begging for her life.
She was lost. This was the end.
And now it was obvious to her. She had never felt the thrill of saving someone. She did it out of duty.
She closed her eyes when the cold wind wrapped around her and she stopped feeling her body. Her soul was leaving. It was too late for any help.
This was the end of the story of a healer and sorcerer who left nothing admirable behind. She did nothing but exist and resent.
Until here.
Perhaps in the future. In another world, she could apologize to her friends, if she ever saw them again.
The Shinigami devoured Shoko’s soul, and only her cold corpse remained. No severe wounds. As if she had simply fallen asleep.
She was dead.
And there was nothing to be done.
Days later, when Shoko had not returned to school for several days under the excuse of fulfilling tasks, she was sent to be searched for. They discovered her corpse in a forest far from the city. There was no damage. No wounds. No scars. She was simply dirty. She had been thrown onto the earth on a rainy night.
Gojo nearly tore his own hair out, feeling the world collapse on him as he watched the body of the only thing he had left from the past being taken for investigation. None of this made sense.
He searched Shoko’s office from top to bottom, hoping to find something. A clue.
He blamed himself. The last time he saw her was when he left her with the Zenin, and he knew they were responsible. But there was no proof. The bastards had cleaned their tracks well. There was no way to accuse them of something they had, hypothetically, never done.
Gojo had to watch every step he took. He was already under the authorities’ scrutiny. He did not fear for his own life. It was his students he worried about. He could not invade Zenin territory even if he wanted to. He could not accuse without evidence.
That was why he searched Shoko’s house and office thoroughly. She was intelligent. At the very least, she would have left a sign. A clue.
Maybe on her phone.
But there was nothing.
And he was beginning to lose his mind.
As if that were not enough, Gojo swore he had felt Geto’s presence in the city again. As if it were yesterday when they were teenagers going out to eat together. That left him tense and irritated, because his mind was turning against him.
What the hell was the point of Infinity if he could not see these things?
If he could not help him find Geto.
To complete Satoru’s misery, he learned they were trying to advance Yuuji’s execution, provoking Sukuna to emerge and cause disasters by sending Yuuji on missions that were not meant for a newbie.
Our spiky-haired sorcerer was exhausted.
He couldn't.
No more.
Between the funeral and the insomnia, hope finally arrived when he found the security camera footage from Shoko’s office. There was nothing interesting until about two or three weeks ago.
The silent admission that Geto was alive and under the Zenin’s control, revived through a ritual that returned life and soul but left them brainwashed. Like machines.
It was clear. The Zenin admitted it themselves.
Despite the anger, Gojo tried to process everything at once. The relief and excitement of knowing Suguru Geto was alive. The doubt.
Could he save him?
Would he be the same as before?
He was clinging to the idea of recovering his beloved spring.
At the same time, he was worried and saddened for Shoko. He could not imagine the loneliness she felt. The guilt of having to heal the body of her former best friend.
Then he heard the recording from the day Shoko disappeared. The Zenin hinted at bringing the black sheep back to life.
Gojo felt a chill.
He thought only of Megumi.
How would he tell him that the man who was his biological father, whom he himself had killed about ten years ago, now walked the earth again as a normal human?
Nothing but problems were coming.
And Gojo, no matter how strong he was, could not withstand it. For a moment, he closed his eyes and let the sensations take him. A couple of tears slid down his cheeks.
He could not control himself.
He was tired.
If only it were possible to give up.
A few seconds later, he stood up.
“There’s no time for this.”
He had to start searching for Suguru and Toji before someone else found them.
He took every piece of evidence he might need in the future and left at great speed.
He needed someone to watch over the kids while he searched.
—"I said don’t bother me.”
“I need you, please… Nanamin.”
—“You’ll have to pay me more than the office does.”
“Deal.”
Everything would be fine, he repeated to himself, trying to believe it. For now, he needed more eyes than he already had. And with Nanami watching over his students, the second-years would be safe.
Or more or less safe.
“Sensei—”
As he walked quickly, lost in thought, the unmistakable voice of emo Yuta Okkotsu pulled him back. Satoru stopped abruptly and turned to face him.
“Right on time, as always, Yuta-kun.”
Gojo Satoru was never a serious teacher. At least not outwardly, and he didn't want to look different now. Not infront of his student.
“I need you to go with Maki and take her to Panda and Inumaki downtown. If they ask why, tell them they deserve a break. Go find adventures. You have my credit card, so go and be happy.”
As soon as he finished speaking, he disappeared with that strange laugh, leaving Yuta holding the card, not knowing where it had come from or when.
Yuta was confused, to say the least.
Elsewhere…
“How long do you think it’ll take?” the girl asked, desperate from waiting under the sun in the middle of the street. Nobara could not stand the heat.
“It’s his sister. It’s fine if it takes as long as necessary… Want an ice cream while we wait?”
When Kugisaki gave him the go-ahead, he went to buy the ice cream like a shot. Despite looking like a person of limited means, it was worth it when he walked back with his hands full of cold treats for himself and his friends.
His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he almost bumped into a man and was on the verge of dropping his precious treasures. The man was terrifyingly large and reminded him of someone, but it was hard to tell when he could only see his back. But...
That hair color. That skin. That posture.
“Fushiguro…” Yuuji whispered, confused.
"Itadori!! Hurry up!"
If Itadori hadn't run towards his friend, he would have seen the man in front of him tense up at the sound of the surname, reacting to it.
"So~ the brat is near here"
The one and only Toji Fushiguro, revived, uncontrolled. But now that he knew he had a second chance, and that his greatest rival had cared for his children, he would not waste time on pointless fights.
Gojo it's going to lose his mind when he found this.
Meanwhile, Megumi left the building where she had been for the past few hours. It wasn't a hospital or a clinic; it was a property belonging to the Gojo clan, a refuge at first glance. They were taking care of Tsumiki there on Satoru's orders. Ever since she fell into a coma, Megumi had demanded that his sister be protected, since he and Satoru couldn't be exactly attentive to her one hundred percent of the time.
Besides, regular doctors couldn't do anything, so Gojo had assembled a team to protect and care for her at all times. In that building, Megumi visited her every so often, even if she was still asleep. The silence of seeing Tsumiki's relaxed breathing was enough for him. A little brother, no doubt, he was still the same child he used to be, like when his father had just abandoned them.
“Shall we go?”
Megumi said, glaring at Itadori with his hands full of already melted ice cream, yet he couldn't help but give a small, soft smile. In a way, having his friends there for him was more than enough. He stopped feeling the great emptiness of loneliness and depression; he felt a great peace knowing that despite seeing his sister in bed, when he left her, she would be protected and he himself would be accompanied.
Neither Nobara nor Yuuji asked questions, waiting for Megumi to be the first to speak.
“She’s fine. Still not awake. The doctors say… her consciousness is still there. Maybe soon… she’ll react.”
“That’s great. Maybe she’s heard you all this time. You should tell her about your day.” Itadori was the first to answer with that unique positivity.
“Don’t say it so loudly. You’ll annoy her. If it were me, I’d wake up from a coma just to shut Itadori up.” And Nobara was the one with sour comments, rough sometimes, but never hurtful.
They laughed.
"My sister always listens to my stories, even if they're boring." Megumi smiled wistfully, his gaze drifting for a second into the crowd before he frowned, thinking his eyes had deceived him. He could swear he saw the man who had abandoned him, walking in the opposite direction.
He tried to convince himself it was just his mind playing tricks on him now that he was remembering the past.
"We should go back to school."
"Yes/Sure"
He tried convinced himself it was his imagination.
They headed back toward the school.
The air felt wrong.
They weren't that far, although it would take them about fifteen minutes to get there on foot. Although there was a calm atmosphere, there was something strange about it, like when your mother goes to pick up your report cards from school and you just have to wait at home, in the middle of doubt, anxiously waiting to find out if you'll be congratulated or if your mother will take extreme measures.
That's exactly how the tension felt. Perhaps it was the air or the fact that there were hundreds of curses on the buildings in the city center, small, but given the time of year, they had simply multiplied. That's what Valentine's Day does. Or so the teachers and other authorities said. If someone asked Kugisaki, she would say that someone had been scattering curses like candy in a parade.
"It feels weird again. It's been in the air for a week now."
"Not this again, Nobara? I thought Gojo-sensei told you not to worry. It's normal these days; it's the city center."
Yuuji was unconcerned. He didn't feel any pressure in the air, given that there was already a terrifying enough presence inside him. He had worse things to worry about. Sukuna had been unusually quiet these past few days. He was usually a chatterbox who couldn't even shut up in his sleep. It gave him a bad feeling.
"The authorities tend to hide things from us. Gojo probably didn't tell us something to keep us out of the loop."
The group's cool brain spoke calmly, his hands in his pockets after devouring his ice cream in two bites. Yuuji noticed, but he was so puzzled that he didn't say anything, just looked at him doubtfully.
"Should we explore?" Kugisaki stopped in his tracks at a suspiciously car-free intersection.
"Explore what? In case you've forgotten, we're the last group that should get into trouble. This one has a death warrant, you're weak, and I can't control my techniques. And Gojo is already hated enough by the Jujutsu elders and the other clans. If we make a mistake, all four of us will end up badly."
Mr. Potential spoke, stroking his face. He was frustrated and also wanted to help investigate because, suddenly, everything was starting to get complicated.
"But don't you think it's suspicious? Suddenly, Miss Shoko was found dead, there's been a huge increase in missions to remove curses... I feel like something's going on." Apparently, Yuuji's head and mouth could form coherent words, and he wasn't such an idiot after all. (Just kidding, I love you, my boy)
As if that weren't enough, their moment of silence to assess the situation was interrupted when a certain deep voice spoke, coming from Yuuji just in case:
"Oh, how cute, the brats don't know how to stop the disaster. Don't they see they live amidst corruption? Since my time, sorcerer organizations have been filthy, corrupt bastards. It would be a shame if they killed your weakling sensei before I could snap his neck."
A cold current made them shiver.
"If you don't have something good to say, you'd better return to your cave, Mr. Fingers." Nobara wasn't afraid of the devil, that was obvious, but he positioned himself slightly behind Megumi when he heard the curse king hiss. He was quite irritated.
"What do you know, Sukuna?"
Itadori finally spoke before Megumi could take the words right out of his mouth. He ran his hand over the cheek where that eye and mouth had been, where Sukuna spoke in that naturally mocking tone. The mouth and eye crossed over to her right hand. It was kind of gross, if you ask me, how creepy.
"I wouldn't tell you anything...unless, you know, you find another one of my fingers."
The three of them looked at each other before dismissing the request, the memory of the couple of times Sukuna had taken control of Yuuji still fresh, a bit too much destruction. They didn't need that again, thank you. So they comically resumed their walk towards school, as if Sukuna had just said the biggest load of crap ever, and they weren't in the mood for jokes. Impressive how they ignored the most powerful curse, who looked like a kid who'd had his candy taken away.
"Damn kids. Fine, you want information, I like the show, go to the Zennin territories, you can't see it, but I can sense a huge amount of cursed energy coming from the forest north of your temples." The boys grinned at their new mission, before Sukuna dragged them back to reality.
"Just remember, brats, it's three weaklings against whatever's out there. I don't get involved in other people's fights."
That left a bad taste in their mouths. Sukuna wasn't an ally, a partner, or a weapon; he was the enemy. Perhaps he spoke the truth, but whatever was there would be strong enough for Sukuna himself to warn them. And when they started walking toward that territory, which unfortunately Megumi Fushiguro knew well (unfortunately, a Zenin did too), the feeling of hanging by a thread over the void didn't go away, not even an hour later, when they stood in front of a huge temple far from the city. It smelled of iron, blood, and decay. It was dark, the atmosphere heavy, almost suffocating...
It was terrifying. That's what the three teenagers thought.
They told you about a war, so no soldier should die...
Let the war begin.