It took God 7 days to supposedly create the universe

I spent over 30 on this chapter.

Suck it, god

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A shadowy figure hunched over in the dark shoves his comrade out of the weak beam of an already flickering lightbulb.

"I can't see with you in the way!" he hisses.

"Well, hurry up and get the door unlocked, genius! It's creepy out here."

The two boys are huddled together at the back entrance of a high school. Neither of them is a confident lockpick, but the shorter one shoves a couple of bent pins inside the keyhole to find the latch, trying his best.

The boy holding the flashlight snorts at the ridiculousness of the situation. "This is never going to work. You play too much Fallout. Locks don't just spring open because you jam something into them," he grumbles.

There's a loud click of the latch that makes the first boy turn and give his friend a triumphant grin. "Oh? Then what's this, Kota? How is it that the door is unlocked now?"

With an annoyed grunt, his friend shoves the door and they both step through into the darkness.

"You get on my fucking nerves, Satoshi. You know that?"

"Yeah, well, thanks for coming with me anyway. I didn't want to do this by myself." He brushes himself off and closes the door behind them quietly so the latch doesn't fall again.

"Like you could anyway. We're supposed to have a third person for stuff like this I thought."

Satoshi pockets his makeshift lock picking tool and follows Kota down the empty hallway. He was right, for their purposes two people isn't enough, but Satoshi still thought they should try. Kota pushes open another door, this one was left unlocked. Both step through into the school auditorium, holding their breath and walking as carefully as possible to not disturb the heavy silence. It's hard returning somewhere that holds such a dark memory.

"This is the last place anyone saw him," Kota whispers, and unshoulders the backpack he'd been carrying. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah...Let's do it," he takes a steadying breath and sits down on the floor.

Kota gets to work setting up their space in the center of the room, first removing two small black candles from his backpack and lighting them to see better. They don't help much. The flickering of the shadows they create are anything but comforting. Aside from the rows of folded assembly seating chairs neatly stacked against the wall, and an old piano hidden beneath a plain sheet in the corner, the room is vacant. Next comes salt, which he pours generously around them in as neat of a circle as he can manage.

"It doesn't have to be perfect, just make sure the ends connect with no gaps," Satoshi reminds him. "It should keep everything else out."

"I fucking hope so. This is only iodized pantry salt. What do we have to do now?"

Swallowing his nerves down, Satoshi reaches for the last items in his bag: a shot glass, and a spirit board.

"We have to m-make contact," he explains with his nerves fading fast. He lays out the board, turning it so that he can read any message that may come through.

"What's this for?" Kota fumbles with the shot glass, looking through it like a telescope to view his friend's muddled image through the other side.

"Don't do that!" his friend hisses. "You may see something you're not prepared for!"

"I …I already did," Kota whimpers. "Bro, you are so ugly."

Satoshi rolls his eyes, trying to let his friend lighten his mood. He also chose to invite Kota because he knew he'd be less afraid with him here. Though it meant sacrificing his seriousness.

"We're using the shot glass as a planchette since this is a homemade board. It's old, the original decoder was lost or broken or had to be burned. I forgot."

The older boy emits a low whistle. "Your family knows alot about this stuff, huh?"

Satoshi tries to calm himself down with a few deep breaths. "Yeah…My grandmother was a priestess when she was younger. She saw and did some pretty weird things. When I told her about the weird dreams I've been having lately, she insisted it was a spirit trying to speak to me."

After a small moment of silence, Kota voices what they're both thinking, "You think …..it's him?"

"It's worth a shot, right?" Satoshi jokes weakly as he places the glass open side down on the board. "Now put your fingers in front of mine and do what I do. Exactly, okay?"

"Alright," his friend obeys, holding the glass steady at the center.

"We need to visualize him, that will help us contact him spiritually. Just remembering his face, and…his voice." he gets unexpectedly choked. Truthfully they hadn't been the closest friends when they were all together. Problems arose that made him pull away from their social circle and even avoid school altogether most of the time, but Satoshi still missed him, and felt like he let his friend down by not trying to keep in contact.

That was before the accident. The accident no one talks about anymore.

"Deep, slow breaths. Concentrate with me," Satoshi instructs himself out loud. He reaches his hand out, expecting another joke from Kota. He surprisingly offers none, taking his hand. Rather than making light of the situation, Kota plays along, though still not the least bit convinced they may actually see something.

"If someone is here, make your presence known to us, please," Satoshi calls carefully, his voice only carrying the slightest tremor. Silence. Both boys shift uncomfortably in place, fingers trembling on the bottom of the glass.

"If anyone is here, please, we invite you to make your presence known–"

A key of the piano in the back corner of the auditorium plinks discordantly out of tune.

"What the hell was that?" Kota hisses, whipping around backwards.

The room falls hushed once again except for both boys anxiously shifting in place.

"Was that a sign?" Kota asks.

"Has to be. Let me try again."

With a more confident voice Satoshi nearly shouts, "If you're our friend, please tell us!"

Both boys hold their breath waiting to hear anything else. This time however, it's the glass beneath their fingers that shifts. A tiny movement at first, barely enough to make them think anything of it. Then came another. The glass creeps across the surface sluggishly beneath their fingers as they stare in shock.

All of Kota's confidence vanishes. "Satoshi, I wanna leave. Now."

"We can't break the circle or it could–"

"Fuck your circle! This shit's scaring me!" Kota cries, already attempting to stand up.

Another sound from the piano freezes both of them in place. This time instead of a single note, it's a chord. Then a quiet melody trickles forth from the dusty hammer falls.

The glass moves again. No

Shit! What are they supposed to do now? This is more than Satoshi was anticipating. He should have asked for way more guidance before attempting something like this.

The echo of laughter reaches their ears. It sounds…human?

From the shadows, you stand from your place on the player's bench, finally making your presence known.

"Sorry, boys. I overheard what you were doing and couldn't resist playing a little prank. I've been on my own a bit too long, you could say. My humor may have warped a little."

You approach their salt circle on the floor, making sure to smile so they know you're friendly. Though it's probably been a while since you've smiled at someone. You end up showing more teeth than necessary. You look quite fearsome, dressed in all black with your jagged facial markings highlighted by the moon. The boys are frozen to the spot like a pair of frightened deer, crouched motionless but looking ready to spring out of their skin at any moment.

"What's the problem, fellas? Don't you wanna party with the supernatural?" You laugh again, trying to force it to sound light and easygoing. It does not.

"Wh-who are you?" One of them asks. From eavesdropping earlier you heard his friend call him Satoshi. "And…Who…is that?" He points a trembling finger at the side of your face.

Of course, the boy said he had the blood of psychics and priestesses running in his family. He can see your curse. How unfortunate. You were hoping for a good first impression.

Ryomen bares his teeth menacingly to make the brat stop pointing.

"Oh, pay him no mind." You slap a hand on your cheek to cover him up. He immediately materializes to the opposite side to continue his glare, not at all amused by these pitiful whelps playing with sorcery.

"What are you boys up to?" you ask, genuinely curious though you're piecing together what their intentions are already.

They don't answer at first, still exchanging silent glances of "what the hell do we do?" to one another in a less-than-subtle manner.

"Come on, tell me. Maybe I can even help you." You kneel so you're at eye level to them. They peer back from the inside of their pitiful little table salt circle. You can see them both trembling.

At last one speaks up, "W-w-we just w-wanted to see our f-f-friend ag-gain."

"That's nice of you," you comment, glancing around their meager supplies and not seeing much of anything useful. "What did you bring for summoning the guardian?"

Again they exchange confused looks. "What …guardian?"

Your jaw drops. Did they not do any research beyond listening to what some ex-priestess told them? They must have a death wish.

"Oh, wow. Good thing I was around and saw you come in here. You two would have been fucked! Hahaha!"

They don't find the situation as funny as you do, and huddle closer to each other, watching as the frightful black markings on your face begin to pulse at their edges with crimson light.

Your hands come together, thumbs and forefingers meeting in twin circles, the rest all pointed forward together.

Your shadow elongates along the floor beneath your feet. Channeling your cursed energy, you utter a single name:

"Babael…"

The linoleum tiles darkened by your hands' skull-shaped shadow begin to crack and curl at the edges, dry-rotting with age in a matter of seconds. They fall through their fixtures into emptiness below, creating a growing black pit. The boys stare transfixed, both hands clutching each other desperately either for support or to keep the other from running away as their spirit board flips over. Only the tiniest croaks of fear escape from them.

You crack your knuckles, waiting patiently for the completion of your summoning. "Watch carefully, boys. This won't take long. Oh, and it's probably in your best interest not to speak to this guy unless I tell you to. Alright? He's kind of always in a bad mood."

"Wh-who–" but before Kota can finish his sentence, a hand comes up from the darkness of the pit, clutching the still yellowing tile surrounding the opening. The thin moonlight reflects off skinless white bone fingers.

A second hand appears, straining to pull the rest of his body through the hole. His flesh is sparse, nearly non-existent, hanging in ragged patches at his joints, leaving his limbs mostly skeletal. The curved horns of a large bull pierce their way into the light as the figure stands up at last. He always hides his true face inside the skulls of animals, some are more recently dead than others. This one looks older, with its eyes sunken too far in to tell if there was anyone staring back. The mouth of the bull hangs open, a cloud of flies seemed to mimic the steam of breath that no longer flowed through it. An ancient curse, an underlord of the Dead, draped in the finery of the wealthiest departed souls who always insist upon being buried in their full regalia.

Satoshi and Kato look ready to piss themselves, and with good reason. You decide to make the introductions for time's sake.

"Behold: Babael, Keeper of the Graves and Mediator of the afterlife. Far more capable than any human spirit board. He can tell you the location of any deceased human's body or soul."

The stench of decay fills the air as Babael turns to face you. You've learned to ignore the smell.

"Master …..Sukuna…" Babael rasps through the buzzing swarm.

He only ever addresses your curse. That's just as well. You don't want to hear your name in his voice. The slow way he talks gives you the creeps.

"How….may I ….serve…you…?"

"We seek a soul that's left us," you recite. "Will you tell us where it lies?"

He pauses, considering. He always does this. Maybe it's for show. Maybe he's really determining whether or not this is the time he will tell you no at last.

"Name?"

You look at the petrified humans, practically in tears from the horrific specter before them.

Come on, you dorks. Get a grip, you urge them silently.

"State the name of your departed," you instruct the psychic boy.

Kota looks to his friend, who's so full of regret that he could puke. They're still holding hands, clenched tight in pure terror. He shakes Satoshi to snap him from his trance. He'd gotten lost in the black wells of that thing's eyes.

"Name? the curse Babael asks again.

Satoshi braces himself, clenching his eyes shut to block out the gruesome sight.

"Don't waste his time!" you warn. "Just say the name."

With his courage quickly fading, Satoshi squeezes Kota's hand in a bruising vice. He faces the demon before him again. In a shaky voice he barely stutters out a name. You don't recognize it.

The creature tilts his enormous head, appearing eerily thoughtful.

"…Here…" Babael points into the pit from where he came.

You take a seat on the floor, crossing your legs casually. "You heard him, boys. He's in the pit. What do you want to do?"

The pair are struggling to breathe. The taller one keeps looking back to the exit. He won't last much longer, you know a coward when you see one. The psychic boy isn't doing much better, but he looks to you for guidance.

"Wh-what sh-should we do?"

"Hm? Well you can ask your friend questions. Or just check in to see how he's doing, if you like. There isn't a body, so it'll just be his soul you'll be speaking to." You check under your nails for dirt. They're getting too long again.

Kota swallows hard. "How …do you know all of this?"

"It's useful to me. The departed are easy to talk to," you sigh. "Now don't keep the Lord of the Dead waiting. Contact your spirit, little psychic."

From your cheek, Sukuna hisses his disapproval. "A waste of your talent to summon an Ancient for these idiots."

"Maybe not to them," you mutter. They wouldn't be out in the middle of the night for someone they didn't miss. This can be one of your good deeds for the day.

The demon Babael sways in place, restless to be in the threshold of the living realm. He isn't usually detained this long. Human interactions are rare. When he answers your call, you only need him for a moment to dredge up a soul for contact. These human youths are scarcely able to meet his gaze, but he doesn't dare show any agitation or impatience before Master Sukuna. He will dally here in the living world as long as he is required.

Kota makes a strained sound in his throat, a mix of a whimper and a grunt to get his friend's attention. Silently he urges Satoshi with only his eyes. What do we do?!

There's no point chickening out now. Satoshi rises to his feet, albeit shakily, and steps out of the salt circle toward the gaping pit. His steps are achingly slow, each one in rhythm to the freakish swaying of the spirit before him. It's impossible to tell if it's his own determination or the trancelike movements of the spirit luring him in. What will he see when he looks in? Oh, God…

His feet stop at the precipice, every fiber of his being screaming at him to turn away and run. He looks down into the chasm. There's nothing but infinite blackness below. It's even more unnerving than what he imagined. Void of sound and sight forever…..Is this really where his friend ended up? Where everyone ends up? Realizing his face is wet, he wipes a hand across his cheek. He's crying. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he calls out to his friend.

"Junpei! Can you hear me?"

There's movement to his left as Babael, Lord of the Dead, stoops to reach into the inky oblivion, Both of his decrepit hands disappear the instant they breach the darkness. When they reappear, there's something large in their clutches. Whatever it is, it doesn't look like his friend. It's enormous, with wide set eyes and a hideously large head.

Satoshi is bewildered by what he's seeing. You'd said there wouldn't be a body, just a soul…But what the hell was this? Kota grabs his backpack and without waiting any longer, sprints from the building. His courage had long since run dry for the evening. He's sure to have nightmares for years from this. Poor Satoshi can only fall back, paralyzed with fear as the creature is pulled from the pit.

"Ah, shit," you stand up with a disgusted sigh. "Not another one…."

You recognize this handiwork. You've come across it many times now, but it's still an unpleasant surprise each time you find the twisted aftermath of the Curse you met nearly a year ago. There've been alot more of his creations lately. He's looking for you.

Mahito.

You've been fortunate enough to avoid him, though his beasts are a different story. You've learned not to be as tenderhearted for them as you once were with poor Aikiko. Megumi had been the one to teach you that death could be a release, not a punishment.

There are definitely worse fates.

The boy beside you can't speak, only small little squawks escape his throat as his eyes dart from you then back to the curse.

"Sorry," you offer awkwardly. "I know you remembered him differently. I'll do my best to fix it, okay?"

You reach a hand forward, resting it on the cheek of the sad-eyed curse. "Reverse Transfiguration," you chant.

There's a sound like a gasp that escapes the cursed spirit as his form is overtaken by light. Gradually, his shape begins to shrink. As familiarities begin to reappear, Satoshi finds he recognizes the spirit at last. You've only restored the shape of the boy's soul. Moonlight shines through his figure as if he were made of glass, it's Junpei nonetheless.

Satoshi is overcome. This is all too much at once. His vision blurs, and he falls over on the spot.

Wonderful. A fainter. From behind you the sound of pounding footsteps and the slam of the front door reach your ears. The second boy had fled.

"Useless humans," you mutter for no reason.

Kneeling down, you meet the spirit boy's gaze, which had been dreamily transfixed on having proper human-shaped hands again. His eyes focus on yours slowly, then on Sukuna's leering back at him. He blinks, taking in the sight of you.

Respectfully you bow your head to the ghost. "I do apologize. You were dragged out and it seems your friends aren't here to speak to you. Sorry to have disturbed you. I can send you back to rest now."

You raise a hand to Babael, already prepared to send the boy back, but an icy sensation halts your movement. Junpei had grabbed onto you.

"Please…please don't. I don't want to go back there!" he pleads.

You've run across your share of restless spirits by now. Human souls seeking the respite of eternal sleep is nothing new to you. But a soul trying to bargain its way back over…This is a different matter.

"Hm? Are you sure? Living is hell," you needlessly warn. Clearly he already knew this since he lost his life so early.

"Yes! Or anything else! Please…" His ghostly form wilts as he begs, clinging to your hand with both of his.

"Interesting," Sukuna rumbles from your mind. "You could do it. You're more than capable."

He's right.

So much has changed since you left Jujutsu Tech, including your abilities. If this unfortunate soul wishes to have a second chance at life, you could make it happen.

Of course, he'll need a body.

Junpei is losing hope. The grim Keeper of the Gate would eagerly shove him back into the realm of death at your behest. Whoever you are, for whatever reason, Babael is working for you. You must be very powerful.

"Are you're sure that you want to live again?" you ask with another smile. Your teeth are bared unintentionally.

Regarding you with nothing short of awe, the boy's form flickers for a moment, vanishing then reappearing. He can't last much longer in limbo like this. Human souls are so fragile. He was lucky to be able to project himself into Satoshi's dream long enough to reach him. If he chose to stay in this world as he is currently he'd be reduced to less than nothing, a bare lick of cursed energy. It wouldn't even take a full day.

" Yes. I'll go…with you," he whispers.

"Then let us be on our way." With a flourish, you fling open the front of your coat, and lift the hem of your shirt.

Sukuna's second mouth opens, and Junpei's spirit is forcefully pulled into the darkness within. His scream is a mere afterthought as he realizes he's falling into yet another pit.

….

When he opens his eyes, Junpei finds he's once again enveloped in darkness identical to the void of death he fears to his core. The only difference now is that he has his voice to scream in the dark.

"Stop that. It's unnecessary," someone orders in a commanding tone.

Junpei obeys instantly, caught off his guard. He's never heard anyone else in the void.

"Who's…. there?" he calls carefully.

"You are within my domain. You are no longer in the realm of Death, so cease that crying."

The voice hadn't answered his question. It had barely given him any comfort at all besides its presence alone.

"What am I doing here?"

"You need a body to be brought back. We are procuring one for you."

The words sink in slowly.

A body…

"I…I'm going back?"

"Isn't that what you asked for?" the voice asks with growing agitation. "Pipe down. You're a distraction."

Without much choice, Junpei quiets himself.

This doesn't feel real. How can it be? He'd almost believe it to be a hallucination except the dead don't dream.

…

The night air cuts through the layers of your coat but you've long since become indifferent to it. The city is down beneath you, shrouded by thick patches of clouds obscuring any stargazer's hopeful glances tonight. It makes for good cover for night flying.

"How's our little passenger doing?" you ask.

Sukuna responds with audible annoyance. "Loud. He's crying still. It's a fucking pain."

"Aww, is it shitty having someone's voice in your head that you can't control? I'm so sorryyyy."

You draw out your tone to let your Curse know that you have zero pity for him.

It's fine with you if he's uncomfortable for a while. It's almost karmic this way in fact. You almost wish the flight to your destination was longer so Sukuna can have some more time for penance. But the cemetery you need is close.

"Tell him we're almost ready, but don't tell him what we're doing," you direct.

"Why not?" Sukuna asks tartly. Of course he wouldn't understand.

"Because humans care about gravesites. You ass."

With a darkness your Curse responds, "Not all of them."

You hate that he's right once again.

The cemetery comes into view down below, a sparse clearing several blocks away from the main streets. Gravesites are plotted out in low traffic areas thankfully. You drop from the sky, your feathers adjusting without making a sound to make your descent as silent as possible. Flaring your wings at the last moment, you lift your weight and let the earth below catch your feet.

You've had plenty of time to perfect your landings.

It's quiet. The phrase "silent as the grave" flits through your mind. It's not just a saying it turns out. There's rarely a cause for disturbance at a place like this. You walk as mindfully as possible, not wanting to tread over any stones or plot markers. Before releasing Babael to the Other Side, you'd made sure to get necessary information from him in order to find the right place. You aren't looking forward to the next step. It's not something you've done like this before.

Finally you come across the correct row and begin counting down the markers until you reach the one you seek.

"Here it is," you murmur.

You remove your coat, choosing to hang it from a tree branch nearby. Your shirt off comes next. You should hurry in case someone else may wander along in similar pursuits. It isn't exactly ideal to meet someone in a cemetery.

You kneel at the grave site, reading over the name carefully to make sure this is the right spot.

With only your bare hands, you begin to dig.

….

The darkness along with the ear piercing silence is getting to be too much for Junpei. One wouldn't think a lack of sight or sound could drive someone crazy, but it doesn't take long especially when there are no other sensations to distract him. His cries are quiet but constant as he waits for...

For what? The voice told him he was to receive a body. How exactly? And would it be his own?

"I thought I told you to quit that obnoxious sniveling," the same voice from before returns, slicing through the stillness.

Hiccupping through his sobs, Junpei struggles to respond. "I…I'm sorry. Please…How much longer? It's so dark-"

"Is that what you're scared of?" the voice chuckles.

There's a sound that Junpei recognizes, the snap of two fingers, then the darkness around him simply falls away, torn back like a heavy curtain from his eyes. Junpei almost wishes for the shadows to return when he sees that he's been standing knee deep in blood.

He screams again.

The disembodied voice clearly finds amusement in the boy's plight.

"Hahaha! What's the matter? Isn't this what you asked for? You humans are simply impossible to please."

There's a sound behind Junpei, the swish of blood stirring with the stride of footsteps. He turns slowly, terrified already of whoever is here with him.

It appears to be a man…but the energy exuding from him breathes pure malice. He's tall and draped in a white kimono. Well, white except for the bottom which was quickly wicking the gore and sending spiderlegs of crimson reaching up into the silk. His face is what alarms Junpei the most. He has four eyes, each staring sinisterly. Although outlined by jagged black markings and staring with a hard expression that betrays his distemper, Junpei can't help but notice the similarities between this strange man and someone else he used to know.

"It won't be much longer. You should be thankful that this is even a possibility for you, little wisp," he sneers.

"Who…who are you?" Junpei asks shakily.

He spreads his arms open, his clawed fingertips flexing purposefully. "Who am I? I am Ryomen Sukuna. King of Curses and the one who's going to resurrect your miserable human soul."

Ryomen Sukuna…

The name scratches across Junpei's memory, stirring a strange feeling that he's heard it before.

"Curses…?" Junpei repeats. He's heard this before too.

Another memory replays in his head. A frightful face stitched together. Such cruel laughter ringing in his ears. Then blinding pain followed by–

"Come now, don't look so glum. You should be overjoyed that you get to leave," Sukuna sneers. "Lucky you."

Junpei certainly doesn't feel very lucky. Far too much has happened to him.

"Get ready," Ryomen Sukuna commands. "Your vessel is nearly prepared."

"My vessel? What does that mean? Didn't you say I was getting a body?" Junpei's concerns are doubling, and then tripling. How much time has passed? It doesn't feel like it's been very long.

"Noisy little cricket. Do you ever shut up?" Sukuna growls. "You should be on your knees thanking me for a second chance at your miserable human life. Ungrateful little–"

He pauses mid sentence, as if distracted. Junpei notes how his expression changed at once, almost appearing softer. Sukuna's eyes blink slowly, losing their crimson glow. Gradually his jaw unclenches.

"It's ready. The vessel is complete."

Too terrified to look away, Junpei can only stare as Sukuna reaches a large hand toward him. Although he knows he has no skin, he swears he can still feel the pinch of nail tips cutting into him. The King of Curses leans in closer, and comprehension hits Junpei much too late as to what's happening. "Wait! Please-!"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself." Sukuna rasps. When his mouth opens, Junpei spies a black marking across his tongue similar to the one above those predatory eyes. He's even more mystified to find that the mark is pulsing with light, pulling him inside. The sensation of being lifted is his last cognitive thought before–

"HHAaahhhh!"

The loud gasping scream of the dirt vessel's primary breath catches you by surprise. You'd barely finished the revival ritual when it began to dry and crack, giving way to reveal human skin underneath. Your technique worked immediately and the hard part is over at last. You can't help the enormous smile on your face as you unearth the boy you've successfully resurrected.

"There you are! Hello again," You greet him as you hastily wipe away a trickle of blood from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue is still bleeding from the new cut burned in by the gold chain around your neck. You could have Sukuna restore it, but you won't. Just as you didn't let him heal you after Itadori's revival. The pain is penance for your exchange.

Ah, shit. Your shirt is still off. This is awkward. You couldn't resurrect clothing for the poppet either. Or actually, he isn't a poppet anymore he's… What was his first name?

"Sorry, I think I forgot your name," you confess.

He doesn't answer, instead he looks down horrified to find that he's naked and sitting in what appears to be a public park. Wait, no! Those were headstones— This is a graveyard!

New air is filling his chest. He begins to hyperventilate as he tries to curl himself up tightly to conceal himself.

"I'm so sorry! It's okay! We're leaving right now." You're already throwing on your shirt and grabbing your coat, wrapping it around his body. "Come here…Um, Junpei! It's Junpei isn't it?"

He doesn't respond. Kneeling down, you lift him up in your arms. He barely registers what's happening as your wings begin to grow from your shoulders. It isn't until you're well in the air that he dares to peek between his fingers to see your face. Then he makes the mistake of looking down.

When he sees the ground shrinking away below him, everything goes black once again for poor Junpei.

.

.

.

By the time you return to your "home," the boy in your arms has long since gone limp and motionless.

"He's dead again isn't he?" Sukuna observes.

As you gently lie the body down on the dusty wooden floor, you shake your head. "No. I think he just fainted. He's still breathing."

Breathing.

You study the steady rise and fall of his chest, acknowledging the success of your work. His skin is pale and flawless. You brush dark hair away from his face to get a better look at him, then with a pang of self consciousness, you pull away. You clear your throat and decide to find something for him to wear. If he wakes up naked again, he'll be even more humiliated.

Luckily you held onto the extra clothing Keigo had given you when you encountered one another months ago. They may not fit Junpei perfectly, but it'll be better than nothing. You try not to let your eyes wander too much as you dress him, ignoring the way Sukuna attempts to draw your eyes back to Junpei's narrow waistline. You know your Curse too well.

"Stop it right now! Do you hear me? He's off limits to you, so don't even think you're going to hurt him," you bristle protectively, already anticipating the worst of what Sukuna may be thinking.

"Bah! I wasn't even considering it. Whatever. Have fun with your new little plaything," he spits.

"That's not what he is! Don't call him that–"

A groan from Junpei interrupts your argument. He's starting to regain consciousness with you handling him like this. Quickly you shove his arms through the sleeves of a shirt, making sure he's appropriately covered. Hopefully a loose fitting t-shirt and jeans were alright for now. You can take him to Raphael for a more appropriate fitting when he's ready.

"Hi there. Good morning," you attempt in a friendly voice as you peer over the boy's wincing face..

He groans again, blinking up at you. It's still dark, but there's moonlight leaking through a hole directly above him. "Is…is it morning?"

"I mean…No, but I didn't know what else to say to someone waking up from…from–"

"Death," Sukuna interjects from your mouth with more than a little unnecessary mirth.

"How does it feel to feel again?"

One of your hands reaches for Junpei's nearest foot, trailing a single finger down his sole. He jerks away from the sensation with a startled yelp.

You yank your hand back too. "Stop it, Sukuna! You're scaring him!"

"Heheh. If I wanted him scared, he would be…" your eyes crinkle at the corners as your lips twist into a sinister grin.

"Shut up! And stop using my body, you goddamned parasite!" you scream at your Curse. The silence that follows is more than welcomed, but you know it won't be long until he becomes vocal again. His ego won't allow him to sit quietly for very long.

Unable to look away, Junpei stares as you argue with yourself in two different voices. It's such a bizarre sight. He's heard of people with multiple personalities before but not like this.

Looking back to the wide-eyed boy who's undecided if youre a friend or foe, you grin sheepishly.

"Sorry about him. He's a real backseat driver, if you know what I mean."

The stripes on your face are identical to the ones Junpei saw earlier on Sukuna. Slowly he's beginning to piece things together. Whoever that man was that he met in the dark, he must be linked to you, and you controlled Babael. Nervously Junpei struggles to gulp with a terribly dry throat. He'd better try to stay on your good side.

"How are you feeling?" you ask him.

Guardedly he sits up and checks himself out, amazed to find that his body is exactly the way it was before.

Before.

A weight hits him swiftly, painfully settling in his chest. He remembers everything. The man who'd pretended to be his friend, turning Junpei against the only person who'd ever shown him actual kindness. His classmates. His mother–

Tears are cascading down his cheeks before he can stop them. He pulls at the neck of the shirt he doesn't recognize to wipe his eyes.

You're starting to see that he's undoubtedly been traumatized. Being resurrected and brought back to life is a heavy strain on a soul. It's going to take some time for him to recover fully. That's okay. You're more than eager for the new company even if he doesn't feel like talking for a while.

"I know you're probably scared, but you're safe, alright? I promise." You introduce yourself with your name.

"You already met Ryomen Sukuna when you were in his domain. You'll hear him and see him manifest through my body because…I'm his vessel. It's a real pain."

"Vessel?" Junpei repeats.

He'd heard Sukuna use that word when talking about Junpei's body. He stares down at his hands, rubbing his fingertips together in slow motion, focussing on the texture of his skin. It feels normal enough, but then he notices two black bands around his left wrist. Huh? He wipes with his palm, but it doesn't come off. Is it a tattoo? It doesn't hurt. A noise overhead makes him look up. The scuttling silhouettes of birds perched in the beams of the ceiling race to and fro, cooing and flapping as they stumble over each other in the dark of their roost. A few loose feathers flutter down to the floor.

"Is this a dream?" he wonders out loud.

"No, you're awake, and if you need proof, keep staring up at those pigeons a little longer. They'll drop a reminder in your eye," you laugh at your little joke.

"Where…where are we?"

Standing, you give a brief twirl about the empty space around you. "This? This is home, as humble as can be. What do you think?"

Another flurry of feathers scatters down around the two of you as a few more birds fly in through the broken skylight of the roof.

"Umm…It's nice," he attempts. It's not exactly a lie since this is a million times better than where he came from.

"You can be honest. I won't take it personally. I'm not the decorator."

With a laugh you shrug off your flight coat and hang it from a broken beam fixture that had been ripped down from the ceiling. Unorthodox, yes, but at least the shitty birds couldn't perch here.

"There's more rooms than this, but this is the easiest way to come and go."

Junpei stares hard at your smooth back. Had he been hallucinating when he saw you with wings of your own?

"How long have you lived here?"

"Hmmm…Tough question. I don't really keep up with time anymore. Six months maybe? No, longer than that. I got here before winter before the lousy birds."

Cupping your hands around your mouth you amplify your voice to shout at the flying vermin.

"And I can't fucking wait for the cold to send their dumbasses south again!"

The flock ignores your outburst as they've been conditioned to do. They know by now that you're all bark.

Reaching down to your guest, you offer an open hand.

"Can you stand? I can give you the grand tour if you'd like to see it?"

He hesitates at first, but when he notices two black bands encircled around your wrist as well,

Junpei extends his hand to meet yours.

.

.

.

It would be an understatement to say that the atmosphere has been tense for both of the Jujutsu Tech campuses. As was expected, the increase in spiritual activity has been exponential and the ramifications of keeping both the faculty and students busy night and day are catching up fast. Masamichi barely sleeps anymore. Even he had to hit the pavement and get his own hands dirty from time to time now like in the old days.

It's been pure hell.

No sorcerers have been lost yet thankfully, but the citizen casualty toll is growing too much for the public to ignore. Disappearances are on the rise, and not just at night. People were vanishing from their 9-5 day jobs. Sometimes parts of them reappeared later on, making the identification process a horrid guessing game for the families of missing persons called in each time a limb was found. Crime has been surging as well. Desperation, fear, and even innate possession drive the unlawful toward their unspeakable acts. The police are overworked and at their limits.

If word got out to the citizens of Tokyo that their lives were in danger, mass hysteria would ensue. The sorcerer's actions have been kept covert, even in the broad daylight. It doesn't help that all new enrollments are on a permanent hiatus. Another change that had to be made thanks to you after your brief stay. There were promising new talents waiting in the wings, and they had to be kept out because of current threat levels. Tokyo has remained in the red. It was too dangerous to take on new students just to have them sent back home in an urn the same week.

Masamichi Yaga's phone rings every hour with more reports of new cases and disturbances. He's at his wit's end.

"We need results, Goddammit!" Masamichi demands. "It's been almost a full year and nobody has seen evidence of a Special Grade Curse? How is this even possible?! The energy output alone has driven up cursed spirit activity, so where the hell is he hiding?!"

Satoru Gojo flinches at the impact of his boss's fist on the desk. It was uncommon to see such a display of ill-composure from a high ranking sorcerer, but at the same time, the stress levels that Masamichi Yaga has been under completely dwarf anything he's had to deal with before. Faculty superiors have been breathing down his neck week after week, month after month since your disappearance. The anticipation of impending calamity extending this long was nearly unbearable. By now the only explanation for there not being any sightings of you would be that you'd vanished from the area entirely, or found a way to conceal yourself from even their most esteemed and knowledgeable Jujutsu sorcerers.

Or they just weren't trying hard enough to find you.

The final possibility is burning dime sized holes in the lining of Masamichi's stomach. Treachery within ranks would be dealt with swiftly. Suspecting treason as well, Gakuganji has been pressing for a merger with their search parties, though the merger would only result in more fighting within ranks. Masamichi can't handle the insurrection. Losing sorcerers now would mean losing members on the forefront of the ever-thinning margins between cursed spirits and innocent humans. There have been too many human casualties already. There are only so many of them, and infinite curses.

Collapsing into his chair to keep himself from having an infarction on the spot, Masamichi speaks slowly to calm himself down. "How many deployable sorcerers do we have out on patrols currently?"

"All available units are sent out daily, except for the reserves for curse removal," Nanami Kento responds. "Unless more students are drafted, the maximum allotment has already been deployed."

Angrily, Masamichi fumes through his nose in long breaths that aren't doing their job to calm him. He knows what Nanami is angling for.

"Itadori is needed for his current job assignment. These curses aren't destroying themselves. You keep bringing up having him added to the search parties like you think I'm stupid and it won't happen, not with the amount of activity we've been getting word on."

Nanami clears his throat to try again. "Then perhaps shift rotations of search parties can–"

"Shift rotations aren't going to cut it when the sorcerers aren't trying hard enough!" Masamichi interrupts. "I'm being ordered to combine teams with our sister school, and to cut respite for the sorcerers hard at work defending people from the unimaginable!"

Gojo scoffs. "I thought they wanted results?"

"If you have any better ideas, I need to hear them. Ideas other than letting Itadori out on his own! We've already lost him twice. His immunity to the Ryomen Sukuna's energy may yet be needed when he's found again." Flipping through your file which stayed at the top corner of his desk at all times, Masamichi shakes his head.

"What did we teach them while they were enrolled? Certainly no techniques for veiling their presence as effectively as to disappear? Sukuna's energy is too great to be hidden completely."

"Speaking of…." Gojo tentatively begins, earning a sharp glare from his boss.

"I'm running out of hiding places for the last Three fingers of Sukuna. I found one of the spots I'd pre-marked out to be compromised."

"WHAT?! So we lost a finger?!" Masamichi looks ready to swallow his own tongue.

"Hm? Oh, not at all! I'd made a fake relic box that was empty inside, and hid it. It went missing later that same day, but luckily I didn't decide to actually use that spot."

"You're…hiding fakes?"

He nods, flashing a thumbs up. "Genius, right? That way I can find the best hiding places by checking on them routinely for security. Although so far I haven't had any luck at finding places Yuji doesn't know about. The kid is pretty hard to fool."

"So then, the real ones are still–"

"Right here, chief!" Gojo proudly presents a wrapped box from the inside of his coat pocket.

Even Nanami takes a step further away from his coworker at this point. He can't believe Satoru would be that dumb to carry the very think Itadori is hunting for on his person. Oh, wait. Yes, he can.

"HOW–"

"I extend my Infinity. Although it's alot of work to sustain even three fingers of Sukuna this way without a little leaking out. I only do it while on campus, otherwise I leave them here when Itadori and I are on patrol, hidden safely until I retrieve them all again. Sometimes I catch a look on Itadori's face that looks like he sensed Sukuna, but he doesn't know where it's coming from. Yet." He adds the last part in an almost threat.

The phone on Masamichi's desk rings. It takes a few more for him to work himself up to answering it.

"Yeah, who's this?"

The tired look in his eyes says it's the police again. Calling for all deployable units. Again.

He hangs up, and stares at the phone for several seconds longer. Knowing it's just a matter of time before it rings again. Maybe it'll be the crime lab calling with another cursed human mutation. Or his superiors forcing his hand and removing what little independence the sorcerers of the Tokyo school still had.

"Hey, big guy, things will turn out alright!" Gojo chides easily, as if he were comforting a friend after a breakup. He puts away the wrapped box, once again extending his Infinity to contain its immense energy. "Don't forget, we still have my theory as to why no one has seen Sukuna."

Now Masamichi looks like he may stand up and take a swing at him.

Gojo's theory was simply thus: Sukuna isn't killing people because he no longer wants to. And it landed the same way everytime he brought it up, with someone calling Satoru a fucking idiot.

"You fucking idiot," Nanami mumbles.

Masamichi closes your file as calmly as he can, returning it to the corner it has haunted for nearly a year.

"I'm beginning to feel like everyone around here is just fucking around."

….

From only a few hallways down, the bedframe in Inumaki's room creaks noisily under the telltale movement of the two boys. If it weren't for a pillow hastily stuffed into the crevice between the bed and the wall, there would be way more racket to answer for later. The gentle grunts and gasps of Toge as his hips are squeezed and pulled backward onto Yuta's throbbing length punctuate each jolt. Yuta kisses the boy, turning his head to the side to reach his mouth.

"Fuck me," Inumaki hisses between his teeth, sending the vibrations of his cursed speech through his boyfriend's sweet lips.

Yuta's hips collide into Toge's ass again, pummeling him into the mattress. The tip of his cock presses deeper, forcing higher pitched whines to escape from the cursed speech user.

Yuta loves those delicate sounds more than anything else. Mimicking Toge's technique, the dark-haired boy buries his mouth in the creamy column of Inumaki's neck, moaning directly against his skin.

"Louder…" he commands.

Like harp strings being strummed, Inumaki's voice quavers as he muffles his cries into the sheets. There's no holding back even if he wanted to, which he doesn't. He's just barely clinging to the conscious thought that they should have already been up and dressed by now, but he needs this too badly. They were definitely risking being caught if anyone went to check on Yuta in the room across the hall where he was supposed to be staying.

But he never sleeps there.

Toge squeezes Yuta's hand tighter, lacing their fingers together as their speed gradually builds. Whispering to himself in rapture, Yuta lets go of Toge's waist, tenderly sliding his hand along the pale column of his spine. The hypnotic sway of those slender hips bouncing back again and again drove him to meet them each time, refusing to relent. It's as if Inumaki needs the very life pounded out of him.

He's been like this for months.

"Fuck me!" the light haired boy groans, shoving back demandingly.

Unable to resist, Yuta obeys the command, pummeling into the boy's ass mercilessly as he whines in a dog whistle pitch. Oh, fuck, he's so, so close. Only a few more strokes inside Toge's tight clenching hole are sure to send him over the edge. Gritting his teeth, Yuta fists his fingers through his lover's, gripping his hand so tightly their pulses are married in tandem.

Yuta utters one final instruction with the borrowed cursed technique, "Cum with me…"

Warmth floods inside him as Toge's voice breaks with effort. He climaxes as well, scarcely able to hold his ass up any longer. He trembles and collapses, still clutching his boyfriend's hand and pulling it over his hammering heartbeat meaningfully. Yuta keeps it there, kissing Toge's soft cheek and letting him know that he was a good boy by reverently murmuring into his hair. It takes much restraint to keep from resuming his rhythm while his cock is still being hugged from all sides.

"I love you," Yuta smiles, dragging his tongue along delicate shoulder blades. "So fucking much…"

Toge hums pleasantly, finding the strength to raise his hips one last time and roll them backwards. His voice is a promise of pleasure and playfulness.

"Yutaa…."

"Mmm…I know. I want to go again too, but we need to get ready." Regretfully, Yuta withdraws with a gentle gasp at the silky friction. Fuck, what he wouldn't give to have an entire day to drape himself over Toge's lythe form and have his way with the boy repeatedly. A far more desirable way to spend his time than the dreaded tasks ahead of him.

But, as always, duty calls.

After getting cleaned up, the boys dress. Yuta watches Inumaki closely, reaching to pause him from buttoning his shirt all the way. He traces his fingers along the enticing ridge of a collarbone.

"I'll see you tonight," he promises with a smile, kissing Toge's soft lips. Yuta lingers for as long as he can and breathes in his sweet scent. Leaving his boyfriend to finish getting ready, Yuta slips away and closes the door behind him as quietly as possible.

When he turns around, he's startled to find he isn't alone in the hallway as he first assumed. Yuji was also just leaving his room across the hall. Their eyes meet.

"Oh! G-good morning, Itadori!" Yuta calls to him. "I…figured you'd already be in town by now."

He knows his face must be flustered still, having been caught like this leaving Inumaki's room. They had been having such good luck with keeping their meetings secret.

Fortunately the other sorcerer isn't interested in what Yuta has been doing. Not in the least.

"Yeah, well…I guess the meeting Gojo sensei is having with Masamichi is running longer than expected." Yuji's demeanor is slightly resentful.

Unlike Yuta, Itadori's excursions off campus were always supervised by one of the teachers. He'd had zero opportunities to do any searching for you on his own. After the first few months passed since your disappearance, the notion of "no news is good news" had long since lost its meaning to him. Itadori is sick with grief over how much he misses you. It makes any interactions he has with the other students sour immediately. None of them were under such strict security while in the city.

"So…You're heading out?" Yuji asks with an edge to his voice that he's barely able to suppress.

"Um…Yep. Gojo Sensei wants me to join Fushiguro with today's rounds." Yuta awkwardly shifts his footing, trying not to stare too long into the eyes drilling holes into him.

"Good…Good luck," Yuji snips pointedly.

He knows he's being unnecessarily harsh, but he can't help it. With more disgust at himself than anyone else, Itadori turns and stalks away down the hallway, leaving a confused Yuta Okkotsu with the accusation of his comrade's words to linger with him. He knows better than to get upset. Itadori assumes the worst of everyone these days.

Both of the sorcerers held so much in common, having survived their separate Curses despite all odds, and yet it still didn't bring them very close. There is a wall around Yuji, and it seems only Fushiguro knows how to get through it. At least that was Yuta's assumption by the way their eyes lingered with one another when they thought no one was looking.

He hopes desperately for Fushiguro to be in a pleasant mood today for a change.

.

.

Expecting any of the sorcerers to be in good humor these days was a pipe dream, and Yuta should know better

The crowded sidewalks of the city streets are buzzing with activity today. Both he and Fushiguro are walking together, weaving in and out of foot traffic to pass through the crowd, although Yuta notices that he keeps getting left behind. He's long since learned that Fushiguro isn't one for small talk. It's a shame he can't stop babbling when he's nervous.

"Did you already call in the last sighting, Fushiguro?"

"Yeah, I did…Right after we filled out the report. Remember?" Although he's younger than Yuta, Fushiguro's haughtiness gives him the attitude of being the one in charge whenever they're out together.

"Um, right. There's just been so many today, it's hard to keep track of them." Anxiously, he falls in step behind his partner, trying to avoid his gaze. No one else puts him on edge the way the shadow user did. His quiet nature and serious expression made him damn near unapproachable on campus.

Yuta was used to people not liking him at first, especially with how his Curse used to ruin any hopes for a good first impression. When he had been possessed by Rika, no one could ever hope to get close to him. Thankfully that changed after he was able to liberate her spirit and send her to the other side to rest. It was rare that he got to visit the Jujutsu campus, being kept busy with his own patrols. Whenever he did find his way back, both Maki and Panda were there to welcome their old teammate. And of course there was always Inumaki to make him feel truly at home.

A secret smile plays across his lips as he allows himself to daydream about what lies in store for him tonight. Toge has been physically insatiable ever since their reunion, demandingly climbing on top of Yuta sometimes multiple times a night. It's as if he doesn't even want to sleep anymore.

In his absentmindedness, Yuta collides into Fushiguro, who'd stopped walking suddenly.

"S-sorry! I wasn't paying atten–"

"Huh…Why don't we check here?"

Fushiguro's eyes are drawn to the gold scripting of a sign above them as he ignores Yuta's apology.

La Voliere

"Hm? This place?" Yuta asks, peeking in through the windows. It looks like any other clothing shop on the strip. They'd stopped at a few stores already to speak with employees, but they were larger than this one. There were certainly more eye-catching places on either side of them.

Still Fushiguro can't make himself walk past.

Drawn in by nothing more than desperation and the faintest understanding of the shop name, the sorcerers step through the front door. It appears to be a standard high-dollar clothing store. Though Fushiguro inhales sharply as he takes in the hundreds of feathers neatly framed and arranged in rows along the walls as decoration. He reminds himself it probably doesn't mean anything. He doesn't want to risk getting his hopes up.

There's a young brunette girl at the register flipping through a fashion magazine. She looks up, offering a courteous smile to the handsome dark-haired boys walking into the shop.

"Welcome! Do you need help finding something?"

"Actually, we just have a few questions for you, if you don't mind." Fushiguro takes on his typical professional demeanor when speaking to a civilian.

"My partner and I are patrolling for any suspicious activities that may be occurring in the area. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?"

"Suspicious? You mean like gangs or burglaries?" the girl frowns.

"Anything at all," Fushiguro says carefully, leaving her ample opportunity to discuss even the slightest oddity.

She thinks for a moment then shrugs. "Sorry. Like I said, nothing really happens here. This street is pretty quiet. Honestly, I've been bored to death for every shift I've worked since I started."

"Do you know if any of the shops around here might have anything to speak of?"

Again she shakes her head. "Nope. We don't even get shoplifters that I know of. But we should be thankful from what I've been hearing. There's lots of weird stuff happening nowadays. I see it on the news. I guess that's why you boys are here, huh?"

Both boys exchange a look. No activity?

In the last several months since Sukuna…since you went rogue, the reports of curse activity have exponentially increased all over the city. People vanished in broad daylight, or were found in pieces by strangers hours after they'd just been seen. It kept every Jujutsu sorcerer busy around the clock, either making reports of sightings like they were doing now, or being deployed for curse removal. Why would this area be left alone?

"You're certain? Nothing at all comes to mind?" Fushiguro presses again.

"Believe me, if I saw anything I'd tell you about it. Now my last job, that was a different story." The girl leans forward, lowering her voice. "There were definitely weird things there."

Fushiguro's brows knit together with interest. "Like what?"

She pauses, almost as if she's second guessing whether or not she should be talking about this.

"Do you remember any news reports about three high school boys who were mutilated in a movie theater?"

Swallowing hard, he nods. How could he forget? It had been one of Itadori's first cases.

"Well I worked at the ticket booth for that theater when they were killed. I was there that day."

Trying hard to keep his voice neutral, Megumi responds evenly, "That must have been terrible for you."

She nods enthusiastically. "It was! I couldn't sleep for weeks afterward. One of my coworkers found the bodies, and he…he actually killed himself. I know it was because of what he saw. I saw his face when he was talking to the police, and he…he just looked so messed up. I quit the next day when I heard what happened to him. Everyone did in fact. The police never even found the killer."

She isn't being accusatory but the blame finds its way in regardless. It's a sorcerers' job to protect the public, and there are times when they fail. The consequences of those failures often toppled like dominoes nonstop for years to come. Suicide was a common fate for witnesses of cursed activity. Not everyone can just go back to normal life afterwards. Most people can't.

Fushiguro maintains his professionalism. "I'm sorry you were affected by that tragedy as well. It's a good thing you've found a better job."

She gives an easy laugh, expressing similar relief. "Yeah, no kidding! My mother was excited for me too, although I'm sure it's because of the discount my boss gives me. We get an occasional pigeon trapped inside if we prop the door open when it's hot, but that's about as exciting as it gets around here. Which is fine by me."

Yuta smiles with her. It's refreshing to find places untouched by curse activity. Not everyone is so fortunate these days.

"If you do see or hear anything, hopefully you won't, just give us a call. Okay?" He passes a card with the contact information for Jujutsu Tech to her. "Thank you for your time, and have a nice day."

"Thanks! You too!" she chirps.

As the two sorcerers turn to leave, something next to the doorway catches Fushiguro's eye.

There's a single black feather framed like the rest, yet oddly left unlabeled. It's much larger than any of the other ones. No sooner than he'd made that observation, Fushiguro sees another one, nearly of equal size to the first on the opposite side of the door, although this one is bright crimson. He scrutinizes them, taking in the slight differences in size and shape. Their placement is very specific too. They were intentionally hung at the entrance of the store, the same place where any shopkeeper might display a talisman to ward away misfortune.

From behind him, Yuta asks. "Is there something wrong?"

Ignoring his partner, he looks back to the black feather. He doesn't need to compare it with the one he keeps with him. The energy it's emitting when he places his hand over the glass is familiar enough.

"Uhh, Fushiguro?"

Yuta is growing more concerned with each passing second. This silence somehow feels different from before.

The shop employee pipes up from the register in alarm when she sees the boys hovering at the exit.

"Oh, please don't touch that! My boss will be upset if anything happens to his collection. He's kind of eccentric about birds."

"So this is his hobby? He's the one who frames all of these?" Fushiguro turns around with new interest, side-stepping Yuta and leaving the poor boy to wonder about his sudden interest.

"Is your boss here? I'd like to speak with him."

She bites her lip pensively. "Why?"

Trying to sound casual, though it was too impossible of a reach by now, the sorcerer attempts a friendly smile. "I just want to know where this one came from."

Again he points to the unlabeled black feather.

With a sigh she checks her phone. "He's at lunch, but should be back soon."

"That's fine. We can wait," Fushiguro assures her. Then as an afterthought, he adds, "We'll buy something while we wait so we aren't wasting your time. Thank you for your cooperation."

As the girl returns to her seat at the register, Fushiguro feels a rough poke in his ribs.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"I thought we were on a time limit for each stop we made? Should we really sit around here just for the name of a bird?" Yuta huffs.

"This is important. And also…I really don't want you telling anyone we came in here. Got it?"

"What? Why not?"

With an intimidating glare, Fushiguro leans in closely so he won't be heard. "Just promise me you'll keep this stop to yourself, Got it? Not one word about anything we see or hear. Is that clear?"

He knows he has no authority to make Yuta swear himself to secrecy. In fact, his partner had zero reason to assist him with anything considering how he'd been treating him like a burden anytime they were paired together. Fushiguro's risking everything on this leap of faith.

Yuta looks sick to his stomach. This doesn't feel like something he should be involved with. Why is Fushiguro so quick to hide things from the superiors?

Maybe he knows what Itadori knows.

The thought grabs onto him refusing to let go. If he hadn't run into Itadori this morning and seen the same wounded look in his eyes he might be choosing differently.

At last Yuta nods in agreement. "Okay. I promise."

Patting his shoulders easily, Fushiguro allows a small breath of relief. "Thank you. Just…pretend to browse around while we wait for the owner."

Slowly Yuta meanders over to some floral print shirts. After a moment it seemed like he was genuinely invested in finding something, leaving his partner alone at the store front.

Fushiguro turns back to the red feather, approaching it and pulling out his phone to take a picture. Unlike its counterpart, this one isn't putting off any cursed energy at all. Fortunately it's labeled, though it doesn't appear to be a bird species. It's a name.

Keigo Takami

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To Be Continued….

Notes:

It has been a year of writing this story! And also a year for you reading this story! THANK YOU!