AN: Slight next to nonexistent Manga spoilers.
"Fateless one?" Jiki replied, curious.
That was not a term he was familiar with. He had been given some unique and fancy titles in his past life and this. Prodigy, Uchiha's bane, genius, and the malevolent-eyed Gojo. But the Fateless one was a first.
He stepped further into the room, walking sideways. He had not sensed an iota of danger or enmity yet, so he decided to indulge the strange creature.
"One who is not bound by the rigid structure of this world. That which is outside the parameters of this existence."
"That applies to all Special grade sorcerers, doesn't it?" Jiki replied with a raised brow. The more the creature spoke, the more the hairs at the back of his neck rose.
The clack of bones breaking and rearranging themselves sounded out as its head spun slowly to track his movement till he was right behind it. Its head was twisted and facing backward like a demented humanoid owl, uncaring of the physical impossibility of the feat.
The creature, wearing the face of a man, smiled. A smile that tore the cheeks on either side revealing a grotesque Cheshire grin. It stared at him with a spark in its amber eyes. eyes that spoke of knowledge hidden and hoarded.
"Yet not all have stared deep into the abyss of nothingness like you have, Fateless one. Not all have walked out of it twice."
Jiki stopped. Every movement, every muscle, every sense that he possessed came to an instant halt for a moment. A split second before he resumed his walk. Yet it was a split second where he was vulnerable, but the curse did nothing but continue its grin at him. He was not even sure Emi noticed it, standing by the door as she was with her hands on her unsheathed sword.
He stared at it with fully open eyes. "How?"
"Things like that tend to leave a mark on your very essence, little Gojo. A mark that shows you've tasted of the forbidden fruit. A mark that says you've eaten your cake and had it. And these, these eyes see it all."
Thoughts, analyses, and insights were created and discarded on the spot even as he continued to stroll seemingly uncaring of the conversation.
"You see, fate has been written already, little Gojo. Everything has been put into motion millennia before now. Yet this was not written. Do you understand now, little Gojo? You're an anomaly. A Fulcrum on which Change and the impossible spin on."
Jiki's mind spun as it continued to speak. A reference to its eyes and its startling similarity to owls. From the way it perched on the corpse, to its wide unblinking stare and the way its neck spun continuously to track him, heedless of the harm it caused to the body.
An Owl curse spirit? Owls were known to have some significance and relation to death and dying. From varied roles as messengers to more specialized harbingers. Was that why? Even as he continued to walk, his brain spun frantically.
His heart calmed as he dissected the truth of the words hidden in the flowery sentences. It didn't know everything. Simply extrapolating from what it had at hand. What it saw with those wide amber eyes. A mark on his soul?
He should have expected it. Known that there would be something different about his soul. Especially after what he went through in his past life and his rebirth into this one.
"What are you?" Jiki asked instead. An attempt to change the trajectory of the conversation and the cursed spirit smiled in response. The more he looked at it, with his Sharingan using the little light in the room to pick at its features more clearly, the more it solidified his analysis of an Owl-type cursed spirit inhabiting a human body.
Its skin was pale and gaunt, eyebrows flared up to either side of its head, and nose hooked with a sharp curve down.
"You've not figured that out yet? Not even with those eyes brimming with so much potent and negative curse energy? So much hate, grief, pain?
I wonder, how many did you kill to get such eyes? What have you done, what sorrow have you unleashed or borne witness to that created such marvelous eyes, little Gojo."
It came to him in a rush. It was so obvious in hindsight. They were rare but not so rare that they were not unheard of.
"A vessel," Jiki stated with curiosity and amusement. The vessel's returning smile confirmed his words.
The presence of curse spirit and human-cursed energy mixing yet not joining completely should have clued him to it earlier.
"An incomplete one, unfortunately. Despite the Zenin clan's effort," the Vessel replied as it raised up an arm and observed it. The skin rippled and shifted, halfway forming something else before it reverted back to its default state.
"The Zenin?" His curiosity had morphed into caution.
"Ah, surely you didn't think they sat uncaring of what the Gojo clan was becoming. Satoru's birth tilted the balance of power between the three clans. But your birth," The vessel continued with a crooked finger pointed at him.
"Your birth broke that scale."
He had not been oblivious to what his birth had done to the balance of power. He had anticipated the other two clans making moves to either increase their influence or stem his. That was the nature of power and politics.
He had simply not considered the measures the Zenin were willing to take. A mistake on his part.
"So what're you supposed to be then, some sort of Jinchuriki?" He let the words slip out before he realized.
"Jinchuriki?" It questioned with an owl-like tilt of its head. "A human sacrifice. A human weapon. A curious if fitting term."
"I see," Jiki let out with a sharp breath, readying himself for the inevitable violence. "So what now?"
His ears picked up a muted boom.
"Now, now I have an offer for you. Fateless one."
Jiki replied with a tilt of his head.
"Become my new vessel."
A tilt of his brow.
"You believe yourself strong, don't you, child? Yet you have not seen the depths of power that true Jujutsu sorcerers and curses are capable of. Not like the parodies and fakes of this era. I speak of true power, child. Time is coming when that is all that matters once more. He will bring it about once more."
He looked at the vessel with a soft smile. Whatever interest he originally had died with those words. He could recognize it for what it was now, It was a desperate creature.
It had hoped to shake him with the revelation of its insight into his abnormal nature. Then strike fear into his heart by creating a common enemy in the Zeni'n before finally giving an offer laced with poison.
He had run better psyops as a thirteen-year-old boy.
"With your unwritten faith and my knowledge and power, we can take this world for ours."
Boom.
It spoke to him of true power. He had seen the deeds of his ancestors, and read of their feats from the scattered hidden clan compounds during his days as a rogue nin.
Watched from the impure world, the power his forebears called forth. The pathway to power that was open to him now without the sickness sucking life from his frame.
No, Jiki had no interest in whatever snake oil the vessel was selling. What he did care for was the mysterious person it had slipped up about. "No," Jiki replied easily.
"What, why?" The Vessel blinked its wide owlish eyes for the first time. Surprise etched on its face. Jiki replied with a shrug and a smile. He did not need to explain himself to it. Especially not after realizing how desperate it was.
Had it truly expected him to be naive? Even after knowing he was not the average child.
Boom.
It stared at him for a long unblinking moment. "Fine," it replied with a snarl, "this is not my first time dealing with a stubborn human." Jiki tensed his muscles, ready to counter.
It leaped back away from him, with such force it pulped the body it rested on, heading toward the still-confused Emi.
In response, his hands shot out to the side, and he gripped a trolley hard before spinning on his axis and flinging it at the point where he predicted the Vessel would be, before dashing after his improvised projectile.
It leaped towards Emi, with an arm outstretched. Its almost 360 vision alerted it to the incoming projectile, and its left hand shifted into a grotesque-looking diseased wing that sheared the steel trolley in two in a display of inhuman brawn and sharpness.
Jiki followed behind the trolley, unfazed by the sudden appearance of the wing, before slapping the wing to the side and sending a kick at the Vessel. A kick that was stopped by a leg turned into a cruel, hooked, black Talon.
It all happened in what amounted to seconds.
Faster than Emi could comprehend, and by the time she blinked away her shock, the Vessel had its still-human right hand around her neck.
Jiki buried his feet into the ground, putting a stop to his forward motion instantly. He stared at the Vessel with eyes wide with an unfamiliar emotion.
It was dead. That was a certainty. It had just not realized it yet.
"Would you listen to me now, child? Would you heed my words, and take the opportunity given for what it is?" It managed to gasp out. Staring into his eyes even as its hand was forced to twitch wildly. Its body seemed to revolt at the effort the high-speed movement and transformations had taken on it.
An incomplete vessel.
He sent a minor genjutsu through eye contact. A genjutsu that messed with its perception of time. One that it's Cursed energy flushed out almost instantly. But in a fight of this caliber, almost was a death sentence.
Crack.
The roof above them let out a loud crack, as a fissure formed on the concrete. A fissure that spread even wider as another deafening boom sounded out.
The roof fell inward, and out of the dust cloud came the trailing form of Maki, with her nagitana behind her, a nagitana she swung down, with the full force of gravity and her immense strength behind it.
It slammed down on the hand gripping Emi's neck with such force it was sheared off in a brutal blow.
It blinked again for the second time, more shock than surprise. And Jiki was in front of it, this time he was the one with a fist wrapped around its neck.
He curved two fingers on his left hand and sent them scything into its ear.
The sensation of its eardrums and ear canal rippling and tearing made it howl. The moment his fingers pierced a blubbery mass, he curved them further before ripping them out. Sending bone, wax, and scattered brain matter to the ground in a visceral display of well-calculated brutality.
A flare of Cursed energy, and he tilted to the side, narrowly dodging a decapitating strike from a sudden katana. He smoothly stomped on the blade, burying its cursed energy-enhanced edge into the ground.
Something jerked the Vessel by its head, and Jiki let it go, unwilling to contest it.
The new sudden variables sent his reflexes and instincts into overdrive. Hanging him on the edge of cold-blooded viciousness, he shifted his priorities to eliminating the closest variable as quickly as possible.
Spinning on the spot, he splashed the purple blood and the remaining entrails on his hand into his assailant's face, blinding and disorienting them. Before firing a kick at the head of the confused opponent, uncaring of the sickly sound that signified the breaking of the neck bone as the man's head forcibly twisted three hundred and sixty degrees in response.
He landed on the dead body in a crouch and without a sound.
"What is this?" A voice called out. Young, Jiki noted. The person who snatched the vessel from his grasp.
He stood up slowly and sent his attention to his classmates first. They were hunched around their most vulnerable teammate once more. Panda in front, with Inumaki and a wide-eyed Maki, stared behind him, while Emi stood with her hands on her sword in a wide stance. Hands shaking, scared, or Furious?
With the confirmation his classmates were okay, he turned his attention to the twelve people who were hiding in the shadows dressed in all-black matching clothes. The same as the man he had killed on reflex and who lay beneath his feet.
A glance at the men in the shadows was enough for him to gauge them for what they were, insignificant.
So he focused on the man holding the half-dead vessel by the scruff of its neck. His top half was hidden by the shadows he had jumped back to. If Jiki was not staring at him with his own eyes, he would've doubted the man's presence.
He shifted his attention to the Vessel.
Tsk.
It was still alive, he realized with some annoyance, judging from the slow movement of its chest. Special grades had proven annoyingly competent at self-regeneration on a level even the famed Tsunade would marvel at.
Killing them was proving to be an annoying challenge. Inhuman durability matched by unparalleled regeneration was proving to be an annoyance. Critical hits at vital organs had proven to be useless. Although he was certain a well-placed Amaterasu or even a great fire annihilation would work.
Yet humans were still humans, he noted as his right foot continued to rest on the dead man. Passive curse energy reinforcement was not enough to stop an attack of a certain caliber from going through, and they broke all the same.
"What does it matter? They've seen what they shouldn't. We kill them," another man stated with a laugh, stepping out of another shadow, the newly revealed man grinned up at them.
He was an older man, dressed in more traditional clothes. He had short black hair styled into a mohawk, with thin eyes that were placed at a slant. The wrinkles on his face complemented his features as well as the laugh lines on his face.
His stooped-over figure brought back memories of the cursed spirit he faced months ago, Jogo.
Jiki wondered as he observed the strangers. Were they working together with the vessel or was this just an opportunistic third party that stumbled upon the fight?
One of the black-clad men stepped up to the stooped-over man and spoke. "The boy with the white hair, he might be-"
"His identity is inconsequential. They've borne witness to a classified operation. I believe they also conversed with the vessel. They're not leaving here alive, Hiroku. We kill them all."
Jiki picked up on the man's intonation. There was something strange about the way the stooped-over man said those words. It lacked the strength of a command, bearing only the air of a suggestion.
Was he not the leader? Who was then? The young man in the shadows?
"We are students of Jujutsu Technical, Chojuro-san," Maki called out from beside him, before raising her hand and rapidly forming shapes with her fingers, sending out hand signs. Hand signs he did not understand, neither could he extrapolate from the short signs.
Yet the strangers seemed to recognize it because they suddenly came to a stop, while the stooped-over man focused his attention on the green-haired teen with more interest.
"That is irrelevant to us. You're familiar with the language of the Kukuru unit and you even know my name. Who are you— ah those fiery eyes, I remember you now. You're one of the twins," the man called out before his grin twisted into something cruel. "Ogi's Shame," he said in a tone that could've curled milk.
This close, he could hear the way Maki ground her teeth together, showing surprising self-control to hold back from lashing out at the man verbally.
Ogi's shame. He wondered about the title. From her reaction, Ogi must have been her father then. But this was his first time hearing anything about a twin sister. Then again, Maki had never spoken much about her time in the Zenin clan.
"Have they finally found a use for you then? It matters not. The moment you laid your eyes on the vessel, your life was forfeit. Which is of no great loss, I'm sure."
"We are covered by the accord. You cannot—"
The short man's grin widened before he moved to a crouch, pressing his palms to the ground.
"Rules have no place in the darkness, fool."
Jiki saw the moment the technique activated. The way the old man's cursed energy twisted and coiled into a semblance before finally sinking into the earth.
Molding it. Earth style?
His eyes widened as they spun in their sockets, taking in the way the man's cursed energy rolled and moved. He could feel that spark once more. Feel the way his nerves were alight with fire and memory. The immeasurably sweet sensation of enlightenment blooming. Yet he knew he could not let it, he could not allow the man to finish forming his technique.
Not when his classmates were close enough to be affected by the attack, and in an enclosed bunker like this, facing an earth-style user was death.
"Maki, with me. Inumaki!"
It took less than a split second to send cursed energy to his ears, while Maki already had earbuds imbued with cursed energy to mitigate the effect of her classmate's technique.
The cursed speech user nodded before drawing down his tracksuit. The next instant, Jiki kicked up the buried sword, grabbed it mid-air, and blurred toward the man, side by side with a furious Maki. The Kukuruku unit moved to obstruct their movement but were rendered useless by a word.
An order, a command, a straightforward sequence of letters that formed a sound. Yet it was not the words that halted their enemies in their tracks. It was the intent behind it. The power and weight behind those simple four letters made the world go still.
STOP.
The kuruku unit froze on the spot. They stopped moving. They stopped blinking. They stopped breathing.
Yet for all the power in the word, it was arbitrary and spread out. Vague and easily misinterpreted purposely. Lending it immense temporary strength with little true longevity. Yet that was enough for Maki and Jiki.
They blurred forward, speeding past still and corpse-like forms held in the seizures of time. He instinctively stopped himself from opening up the dozen throats that were laid bare and open to him.
This was not the elemental nations. Even as the attacked party, there was a certain restraint expected of him. So he held back. Only two people had drawn his ire today. Only two truly needed to die.
His half-lidded eyes picked up the impossible movement late, and he shoved with his right hand, pushing Maki out of an axe kick that broke the ground.
She recovered quickly, flipping agilely and landing in a defensive stance.
Jiki instinctively lashed out with his blade at the threat so close to him. The hair-splitting blow was halted by two hands clapping the sides and stopping it, inches away from a throat.
Narrow yellow cat eyes stared at him. The owner was a blonde-haired young man that stared back at him for a second before pushing his blade back.
Jiki allowed the movement, taking a step back and coming back to rest to observe the youth.
He was fast. Too fast for his movement to be anything but a technique. Blonde hair, earrings at the tip of his ears, and a cat-like grin were the man's response to Jiki's detached look.
"Naoya-san," Maki called out. Her voiced tinged with bitterness.
Naoya Zenin. That explained a lot.