How deeply do we value power and control? This swift and unquenchable thirst for dominance and strength is something many of us encounter in one way or another, often masquerading behind various guises. For some, it's the ambition to ascend the career ladder, overseeing large teams and making impactful decisions. For others, it's about physical prowess, demonstrating strength in sports or everyday challenges. Then there are those who view power as a means to influence society, aiming to change rules and reshape the world around them.
In my first life, and now in my second, the scenario has scarcely altered. When I say "scarcely," I mean that it has, in fact, intensified. The advent of cursed energy marked a pivotal moment in human history, transforming personal power into a tangible source of authority. The influence wielded by individuals like Gojo Satoru, who impacts the entire sorcerous world, and Sukuna, with the fate of existence in his grasp, underscores this point vividly. This revelation laid bare an uncomfortable truth: human ambitions know no bounds. Hence, many are prepared to sacrifice almost everything in the pursuit of power.
Am I presenting too bleak a picture? I believe not. The narratives of numerous prominent Sorcerers brim with accounts of the sacrifices they made for power and influence. Some lost their health, eroded by the relentless pursuit of dominance and the rigors of combat in this harsh realm. Others devoted their entire lives to their careers, neglecting family and friends, resulting in shattered relationships and solitude. And then, there are those who forsook their principles and morality, convinced that the ends justify the means.
Reflecting on this, I am reminded of the people around me. And what of the era when "sorcery" was at its zenith?
Among the Sorcerers I've encountered, Kokichi Muta stands out, having paid a steeper price for his power than any other. Isolated, robbed of the ability to walk and bask in the sunlight... It's easy to label him a traitor, ready to endanger the lives of my peers for his own gain, yet finding justification for his actions proves elusive. However, embracing Kokichi's own philosophy that everything comes at a cost, I deemed saving this "Mecha" aficionado worthwhile.
Thus, at the break of dawn, immediately following the arrival of the Kyoto School students in Tokyo, I embarked on my mission. My departure was devoid of poetry, no "heading north with the dawn's first light at my back." To locate Kokichi, I had to trace him through the bond between his physical form and his doll. For most, the quest for the robot enthusiast would have ended there, as his "Heavenly Restriction" meant his cursed energy was vast enough to envelop all of Japan, mirroring his dominion over the dolls.
Reflecting on it now, it's evident that one would need to possess capabilities akin to Satoru Gojo to uncover Kokichi's hideout — or be someone like me, with the ability to perceive spiritual energy. Activating "Spiritual Vision" and employing the "Ashtamangala," I embarked on my journey, guided by a slender thread of spiritual energy emanating from the head of the Mechamaru doll and extending in an unknown direction.
Thanks to my intensive efforts in mastering both cursed and spiritual energies upon advancing to the sixth sequence, I could wield the "Ashtamangala" with exceptional proficiency. Gliding over Japan's forests and leaving a faint crimson trail behind, my focus was solely on the impending rendezvous with Kokichi.
Perhaps Kokichi chose a path divergent from my own, yet his extraordinary intellect and meticulous caution deserve admiration. Reflecting on his actions, he concocted a sufficiently cunning strategy, managing to assist the Sorcerers in Shibuya posthumously. His deep understanding of Sorcerers and their cursed techniques is commendable. Notably, during last year's "Exchange," Kokichi was the sole individual who accurately discerned the extent of my powers. What insights might he have gleaned about me in the intervening year?
Venturing further north from Tokyo, I eventually arrived in the outskirts of Sendai.
"It's roughly midway between Fukushima and Sendai," I pondered, dismounting from the "Ashtamangala" to survey my surroundings.
To the east, about twenty-five kilometers away, lay the town of Ogawara — an unassuming "village" bisected by a small river, with cherry trees lining its banks. Nestled amidst the mountainous landscape, overrun with wild vegetation, stood an abandoned boarding house, its structure cloaked in grapevines, with wild bushes encroaching through some windows. In essence, it was the quintessential hideout from my childhood fantasies.
"Well then," halting my visual exploration, I directed my gaze downward, where the spiritual energy thread vanished into the earth. "Considering your astuteness, you're probably already aware of my presence. What's your next move?" Although I spoke to the air, I was convinced that Kokichi, concealed deep below, could hear me.
***
Kokichi Muta's encounters with joy were so infrequent that happiness seemed to him a concept from another realm. Bound to a bed since birth, encased in a web of wires, and feeling akin to a living cadaver, it was challenging to find solace even in the accomplishments of his mechanical avatar — be it vanquishing a curse or enjoying karaoke outings with... friends.
Witnessing through his mechanical doll's eyes — the way Miwa and Momo interacted, sharing occasional laughter, while the perpetually serene Noritoshi kept to a corner — Muta was engulfed in melancholy. Yet, it wasn't the specter of impending death in the forthcoming months that haunted him; rather, it was the inability to be amongst his friends, to partake in simple pleasures, and to lead a complete life.
Catching himself amidst these reflections, Kokichi's genuine countenance morphed into a self-mocking grin. What would his fellow Sorcerers think upon learning of his musings? Would they extend their sympathy, or would they dismiss his feelings as mere adolescent angst?
"If only I could walk..." Kokichi swiftly regained his composure, dispelling such thoughts.
As someone whose existence was punctuated with "if onlys," he had long ceased to concern himself with the judgments of others. Not now, when his most fervent desire was nearly within reach. All that remained was to prepare and seize this chance from destiny's clutches.
"Not much longer," Kokichi glanced at the calendar.
Being in such a condition, Muta was loath to count the days. Yet, for the past month, he awoke each morning with the conviction that soon, everything would transform. Perhaps this was the zenith of his life... Indeed, a melancholy existence if the pinnacle moments are intertwined with the betrayal of comrades. Albeit, Kokichi preferred to describe his actions as "a departure from conventional Sorceric governance."
"Hm?" Red lights blinked before him. With swift commands on the console, the screen displayed the outline of a Sorcerer positioned directly above his hideout, gazing intently into the earth. "What the hell?!"
A maelstrom of confusion, misapprehension, and fear engulfed Kokichi, causing him to momentarily freeze and fixate on the screen where a special grade Sorcerer appeared to be smiling directly at him through the camera.
"What do I do now?" Muta echoed the question, deciphering the lips of the "King of Destruction of Asakusa." "No, no, no," he agitatedly shook his head, the wires tethering him trembling in response. "Need to calm down and analyze the situation... What's there to analyze? If he's here, it implies he's aware of my deeds or harbors suspicions. Undoubtedly, he maintains a close rapport with Satoru Gojo, implying knowledge of a traitor among us... But how? How did he deduce it was me?"
In the midst of his panic, the scene on the monitor shifted: Sukehiro, with a flick of his fingers, began conjuring a blazing spear in his grasp.
"The audacity," Kokichi murmured with a mix of anger and sarcasm, interpreting the next query from the dark-haired visitor. "The easy way or the hard way? You hold no regard for me, do you?"
Yet, acknowledging that Sukehiro Yami had approached the doorstep of his sanctuary for what seemed an "official visit," Muta surmised that he was entitled to understand the motive behind this intrusion.
Regaining his equilibrium, Muta evaluated his predicament and deduced that had Sukehiro's intent been to execute him for betrayal, he would have already made his move. Conversely, if this were a mandate from the Sorceric hierarchy, they likely wouldn't have dispatched him specifically. This implied the visit stemmed either from Sukehiro's own volition or a directive from Satoru Gojo. Weighing these insights, Kokichi opted to welcome him for a dialogue, feigning ignorance. This approach appeared more prudent than adopting a defensive stance, which would only serve to confirm his culpability. Moreover, there lingered a possibility that Sukehiro's arrival was merely driven by the personal ambition of a special grade Sorcerer to unravel the whereabouts of someone who had endeavored to remain concealed.
After engaging several controls, Kokichi activated a mechanism, prompting a circular entrance, seamlessly integrated into the hillside, to unveil itself. Without a moment's hesitation, Sukehiro dissipated his spear and crossed the bunker's threshold, wearing a casual smile.
The minutes that ensued felt unbearably prolonged to Kokichi Muta, who had always been averse to the passage of time, especially under the grip of suspense and unease. Nevertheless, time marched on inexorably, and after what seemed an eternity but was only a couple of minutes, he detected the sound of footsteps approaching through the hefty door opposite his life support apparatus.
Gradually, the door creaked open, allowing light to cascade in and reveal the figure stepping into the chamber.
"Couldn't you have engineered some automaton to tidy this place?" Sukehiro commented, his face contorted in slight disgust. "It reeks of mold in here."
"You had no business coming here," Kokichi responded icily. "I'm sufficiently occupied," he indicated, flexing the network of cables encircling him.
"Am I supposed to pity you? Or offer my compassion?" Sukehiro inquired, his tone laced with sarcasm.
"Your pity is the last thing I desire," Kokichi's reply was thick with scorn.
"Indeed, everything you've managed to avoid needing, you've received courtesy of the 'Heavenly Curse'," Sukehiro's grin broadened, instilling a wave of discomfort in Kokichi. "And all that you truly need, you'll find by messing with curses."
At that, Muta's heart missed a beat, and he strained to mask the tempest of emotions swirling within him. It was a futile effort; hiding anything from someone like Sukehiro was impossible. His rare skill to perceive souls — a secret to most, even among his closest allies — allowed him to discern the myriad emotions overwhelming Kokichi.
"Fine," Sukehiro suddenly stretched, eliciting a satisfying crack from his spine, and settled onto the concrete floor. "I'll wait until you've collected yourself and are prepared for a meaningful discussion."
A heavy silence fell between the two Sorcerers. One radiated the tranquility of a meditating monk, while the other, despite efforts to conceal it, simmered like a volcano on the verge of eruption. A whirlwind of confusion, anger, fear, curiosity, hope, and again fear, raged within him. "What do you want from me?" Kokichi's voice, hoarse, pierced the quiet.
"That's the incorrect inquiry," Sukehiro shook his head, his smile not reaching his eyes.
"And the correct one is?" Kokichi's irritation was palpable in his tone.
"Perhaps, 'How can you atone for your actions?'" Sukehiro suggested, unflustered, remaining seated on the ground.
"Why should I need to justify myself?" Muta challenged.
"Because you're entangled with curses," Sukehiro paused, then added, "And because you're collaborating with history's most malevolent Sorcerer."
"What are you implying?" Kokichi's gaze sharpened, bewildered.
"I'm not here to satisfy your curiosity," Sukehiro yawned, only to wince at the musty air.
Silence reclaimed its hold on the space.
"I refuse to justify my actions," Kokichi exhaled deeply. "No one can grasp what it's like to live devoid of forearms and legs, to yearn for the sun's warmth on your skin. Yes, I acted out of self-interest. But you are hardly in a position to judge me for that."
Kokichi's emotions surged as he concluded, leaving him gasping for air. His eyes locked onto Sukehiro, who simply arched an eyebrow in response.
"Am I pitiful in your eyes?" Kokichi challenged.
"Your birth conditions and desires are irrelevant to me," Sukehiro countered, his voice a calm contrast to Kokichi's agitation. "You're pitiful not for your physical challenges or your betrayal, but because you behave like a child, evading accountability for your deeds."
"Accountability?" The word seemed foreign to Kokichi.
"A congregation of curses allying with that Sorcerer isn't assembling for a leisurely game," Sukehiro paused, then continued. "You're acutely aware of this, aren't you?"
"What do you expect from me?" Kokichi's plea carried a note of desperation.
"A Sorcerer with your unique talents could be pivotal in combating this looming threat."
"I'm sorry, but I can't assist," Kokichi's voice was tinged with defeat as he averted his gaze. "Not under these circumstances."
"Is that so?" Sukehiro's gaze sharpened, his scrutiny unrelenting.
"You're aware of my predicament. Do I seem like someone eager to oppose you?" Kokichi's frustration was clear. "I'm pragmatic. Aligning with Satoru Gojo might offer redemption, but..."
"What would be needed for such a plan, with three curses of special rank and a Sorcerer as powerful as them? The revival of Sukuna, perhaps... The elimination of Satoru Gojo also comes to mind," Sukehiro continued, cutting off Kokichi's protest.
Kokichi fell silent, not out of reluctance to speak, but because he was constrained by a vow.
"A 'Binding Vow'... I understand, that's quite the predicament," Sukehiro acknowledged with a slow nod.
"A small price to pay for a chance at a new body," Kokichi breathed out.
"So, you're forbidden from discussing it with me or anyone else until you reclaim your body," Sukehiro inferred, eyebrow arched. "Unfortunate. Then, let's consider my presence here a mere formality," he stated as he rose and neared Muta's life-support capsule.
"I'm sorry," Kokichi murmured once more, his gaze fixed on his own reflection in the crimson liquid below.
"When the time comes, and they come for you," Sukehiro withdrew an unusual piece of parchment from his pocket. "Use this talisman."
"Why are you doing this..."
"As I've mentioned, your motivations are of no consequence to me. Ultimately, few in your position would have chosen differently," Sukehiro cut him off. "I don't view you as malevolent. After all, there are far greater evils... And, eventually, Miwa deserves more than a metallic keepsake to remember you by—a reminder that your final resting place is somewhere out of her reach."
Kokichi's fists clenched so tightly around the bandages that blood began to ooze through.
"Survive for five minutes," Sukehiro advised as he headed for the door. "Hide, flee, confront, but persevere. Can you manage that?"
"Yes," Kokichi's response was the first sign of certainty he had shown throughout their meeting.
"Then, upon our next encounter, I look forward to shaking your hand," Sukehiro declared, exiting the room and gently closing the door behind him.