In the bustling heart of the shopping district, an unusual group moved among the crowd. Geto Suguru, tall and powerful, sliced through the crowd with his three cursed companions. His long black hair, bound in a loose topknot, swayed with his measured steps, a stray lock falling across his pale, stitch-marked forehead. Narrow black eyes scanned the crowd, their piercing gaze occasionally obscured by the shadow of his fringe.
Beside him, the cursed spirits were a monstrous entourage. One, with the body of a monstrous, red fish with comically oversized eyes, wriggled its striped tentacles with an almost child-like curiosity. Another, a massive, tan behemoth, black tattoos resembled a labyrinth, its helmet-shaped head baring roots rather than eyes. And the third. Its humanoid form, a single eye, pale skin darkening to a fiery volcanic crown, seemed molded from ash and malice.
"Was it really necessary to use two fingers just to check Sukuna's true strength?" The volcano-headed curse, Jogo, was the first to break the silence, its voice a rumble of embers.
Geto favored the monster with a smirk that spoke of dark amusement. "An incomplete test would have been pointless," he mused, "And wasn't it a harvest, in its own way?"
The volcano-headed curse clicked its tongue in disapproval. "I hope this isn't an excuse. I was fond of that curse spirit, you know?"
"Oh? I'm sorry, I didn't know you were interested in adopting that flame curse."
Their exchange was unheard by passerby's, who flowed around the group as if an invisible current guided them. Unnoticed, they slipped into a nearby restaurant, the cheerful voice of a hostess breaking the flow of their banter.
"Welcome in! Table for one?" She smiled at Geto, the only one visible to her eyes.
"Yes, just for me," he replied, his calm demeanor offering no hint of the monstrous beings at his side.
As he took his solitary seat, the fragments of their conversation swirled in his mind. Soon, very soon, his grand design would take shape. Sukuna was but one piece, a powerful one... but games with such unpredictable players had to be planned with exquisite care.
With Akuma:
Fragments of memories assaulted me, each a dagger of shame and regret. A circle of sneering faces, children's voices raised in cruel mockery. "Devil child!" they jeered, their words a familiar poison. I saw myself, small and trembling, desperately wishing I could disappear.
The scene shifted, blurred. Underground fight clubs, the taste of blood in my mouth, knuckles raw and aching. Each blow I landed, a fleeting balm for the gnawing emptiness inside. I craved that rush, that illusion of strength.
Another flash. The orphanage, its walls dingy and peeling. My hand, shaking slightly as I passed over an envelope stuffed with cash. The Sister Maria's eyes, wide with gratitude. For a moment, I felt... what? Important? Needed? The feeling evaporated like smoke.
Then, Sukuna. That monstrous grin, those eyes burning with ancient malice. Power beyond comprehension radiating from him in sickening waves. And there I stood, pathetic and useless, while Itadori...
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the images away. But in this endless dark, there was no escape.
"Look at you," a familiar voice sneered. My own voice, twisted with contempt. "Wallowing in self-pity."
I spun, coming face to face with... myself. A mirror image, yet not. This version of me stood tall, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
"What do you want?" I snarled.
My doppelganger laughed, the sound grating against my nerves. "What do I want? What do you want, Akuma? To keep playing at being strong? To keep failing those who matter?"
I lunged at him, but my fist passed through empty air. He reappeared behind me, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.
"Pathetic," he hissed. "You know what you really are, don't you? Weak. Worthless. A fraud."
"Shut up!" I roared, but the words caught in my throat.
He continued, relentless. "All your posturing... and what good did they do when it mattered? You couldn't save him. You couldn't save anyone."
I sank to my knees, the truth of his words crushing me. "I... I hate this," I whispered. "I hate being so goddamn weak."
My double crouched before me, his expression softening into something almost sympathetic. "Then change it," he said simply.
I looked up, meeting his gaze. "How?"
He smiled, a feral thing full of promise. "You know how. Stop holding back. Stop playing by their rules. Embrace what you truly are."
A wild, desperate hope surged through me. "I want... I need strength. Real strength."
My doppelganger nodded, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Say it," he urged. "Mean it."
The words tore from my throat, raw and primal. "I want power! True, overwhelming power that brings the world to its knees! I'm sick of being weak, of losing everything that matters! I don't care what it takes, I'll become strong enough to never lose again!"
Something shifted in the void. A crack appeared, spiderwebbing outwards. Light seeped through, blinding after the endless dark.
The world shattered.
Voices pierced the silence, sharp and urgent.
"...question. Dispatching first-years to rescue five people who are probably already dead..."
I recognized that voice. Gojo Satoru, his usual laid-back tone edged with barely contained fury.
Another voice, defensive and stressed. "I tried to tell th-"
Gojo cut him off, cold as ice. "I did the impossible, getting Yuji an indefinite postponement on his execution. What's fucked up is it feels like you and the higher-ups stealthily disposed of him with the assistance of a special-grade curse. And now Itadori is dead. Is that what you did, Ijichi?"
Ijichi denied it, his voice weak and stammering. "N-n-no, when the initial dispatch went out, no one knew the curse womb would hatch so quickly-"
Gojo sighed. "Trying to pin the blame is such a pain. Maybe I should just kill the higher-ups."
A groan forced its way out of me. My eyes fluttered open, and a wave of information crashed over me - the conversation, the pain in my chest, the stiff bandages. It was too much. A blinding headache flared behind my eyelids. I groaned again, gripping my forehead and squeezing my eyes shut.
A hand touched my shoulder, the sensation jolting through the fog of pain. A familiar voice reached me, "Hey kid, how you feeling?"
Gojo.
I blinked a few times, the world slowly sharpening into focus. "I've had better days," I croaked out.
The door creaked open, and a new figure stepped in - Shoko.
"Ah, you're finally awake," she approached, placing a hand on my chest. A warm, white glow enveloped my body, and a wave of soothing energy flowed through me. The pain in my chest, the lingering aches...they faded, replaced by an unexpected sense of ease.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," Shoko replied, a small smile on her lips. But then, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Were your eyes always like that?"
My brow furrowed. Gojo, who had been lurking nearby, echoed the question with a soft "Hm?" and leaned closer, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by curiosity.
"Huh," Gojo muttered, "That's interesting."
"What's wrong with my eyes?" I asked, my voice edged with a hint of unease.
"Ijichi, bring me a mirror," Shoko said, her voice now brisk. Ijichi's hands trembled slightly as he fumbled with a nearby cabinet, the sound of glass clinking echoing the tension in the air. I turned, my gaze meeting Ijichi's. His eyes widened in a flash of...was that fear?
"Give me the mirror," I demanded. Taking it from his hesitant hands, I stared into my own reflection. The color of my irises was the same, perhaps a shade more vibrant. But the sclera...it was pitch black.
My fingers traced the contours of my face, ghosting over my cheekbones. In the mirror, my reflection followed the movement perfectly. "Well, that's new..." I muttered under my breath.
Gojo leaned in, "Anything feel weird?"
"Not really," I said. But even as the words left my lips, an idea struck me. Focusing on my eyes, I willed them to...do something. It was like flexing a mental muscle. The world around me slowed, the steady hum of the hospital's machinery stuttering, the light shifting as if through a murky filter. And then, the headache kicked in, a slow, throbbing ache at the base of my skull.
I snapped my eyes shut, then opened them. The headache faded, along with the strange visual effect. "When I focus on my eyes, I feel time slow down, and the information I can see widen. But it gives me a headache, it seems..."
"Well, just let me know if there are any other negative side effects that form," Shoko instructed. She turned to Gojo, a calculating look in her eyes. "So, about Sukuna's vessel..."
Gojo replied sharply. "Make use of him."
The woman nodded. "Of course I will."
"Thank you again, Ieiri-sensei," I managed.
Nodding, she walked to the door, then paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "Also, be nicer to Ijichi, alright? It's hard having to stand between us and the higher-ups."
Gojo scoffed. "I don't give a damn about his hardships."
Shoko shrugged. "Fair enough," she said, then left.
The moment her footsteps faded, I turned to Gojo. "Can we talk? In private."
"Sure," he said, already moving towards the door. "There's a change of clothes for you over there."
I quickly changed, following Gojo as he strolled out of the building. The sun's warmth felt strange against my skin after the sterile chill of the hospital room. The air hummed with the familiar drone of cicadas, birdsong punctuated the rhythmic sound.
As we reached a remote edge of the campus, surrounded by lush greenery, I broke the silence.
"Do you believe the higher-ups orchestrated that mission to kill Itadori?"
Gojo remained infuriatingly composed, not even slowing his pace. A breeze rustled through the leaves, the only sound for a long moment. Then, he spoke.
"If I had to guess, I'm 85% certain they had something to do with it."
"Why do you think so?"
"Because the higher-ups are conservative, idiotic fools," he said, his voice sharp. "Scared of power they don't understand, willing to sacrifice anything to maintain their pathetic status quo."
"Then why not..."
Gojo seemed to read my thoughts. "Kill them?" he finished for me. "It would be easy, but they'd just be replaced with the same brain-dead idiots, and nothing would fundamentally change."
I nodded, mulling over Gojo's words. A memory flickered in my mind - the deal I'd made with Gojo. Was this part of his plan all along?
"Is that why you wanted me to join?" I asked, watching his reaction carefully. "To train someone who could lead the next generation?"
Gojo's lips quirked into a small smile. "Perceptive as always, Akuma-kun. You're not wrong, but it's not the whole picture."
I crossed my arms, leaning back against a nearby tree. "Care to elaborate?"
"The jujutsu world needs change," Gojo said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "But change doesn't happen overnight. It takes time, effort, and the right people in the right positions."
"And you think I'm one of those people?"
Gojo shrugged. "You've got potential. More importantly, you've got drive. The rest... well, that's up to you."
I let out a short laugh. "Right. No pressure or anything."
"Hey, you're the one with the mission to surpass me," Gojo reminded me, his usual playful tone returning.
I pushed off from the tree, meeting Gojo's hidden gaze. "I meant what I said. I'm going to become the strongest, surpass you, and change things my way."
"Big words," Gojo said, but there was no mockery in his tone. "Let's see if you can back them up."
"Just watch me," I replied. "But first, I need answers. About my eyes, about the Fujiwara clan... about everything."
Gojo's expression turned thoughtful. "Fair enough. Knowledge is power, after all. But some answers come with a price, Akuma-kun. Are you sure you're ready to pay it?"
I didn't hesitate. "Whatever it takes."
"Alright then," Gojo said, clapping his hands together. "Let's start with a history lesson. The Fujiwara clan was once the most powerful families in the jujutsu world."
I listened intently, absorbing every word. As Gojo spoke, pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. My strange new eyes, my innate understanding of cursed energy... it all stemmed from this legacy I'd never known about.
"So what happened to them?" I asked when Gojo paused.
"They fell from grace," Gojo said simply. "Got too strong, made some powerful enemies. Most of the clan was wiped out in a single night by one of their own."
"And my parents?"
Gojo's expression softened slightly. "I don't know the full story, but they likely went into hiding to protect you. The orphanage where you grew up... it wasn't a coincidence you ended up there."
All those years, thinking I was alone in the world... and now this.
"I need to know more," I said. "About my family, about these powers. Everything."
Gojo nodded. "And you will. But first, promise me something Akuma Kantaro."
"What is it?"
Gojo took off his blindfold and looked directly at me. "It's lonely at the top," he started. "And the stronger you get, the more alienated from humanity you become. So, promise me you'll continue to enjoy life as well. If you can agree to that, I'll train you."
Lonely at the top? Maybe. But the alternative - that was unacceptable.
"I understand," I said finally. "And I appreciate the warning. But I've been alone most of my life already. I will try my best, however if that's the price of strength, so be it."
Gojo's expression was unreadable at first. "Fair enough. Just remember, there's more to life than power alone. Now then, shall we begin?"