"He turned her into a curse," Uchiha Obito repeats, slowly and quietly. Chewing through the words with much consideration before barking out a laugh. Harsh and grating to Satoru's ears. "I assume that's generally taboo."

It then looks at Satoru as though daring him to challenge its claim. Standing in front of him as a curse manifested by another's will. Shackled down to this realm by wants not of its own but rather of a sorcerer long dead.

"So he managed to bring her back to life," Uchiha Obito muses, cruel and cutting. "Good for him."

There's an infinity in between them. Filled with words unsaid and memories well lived. Uchiha Obito doesn't say anything. But Satoru doesn't need Uchiha Obito to say a damn thing to know that the silence is heavy not because of the mere tabooness of the act but the fact that it's something that Uchiha Obito knows well.

Perhaps it's due to its own circumstances as a 'Rika.'

But in this instance?

Satoru has a feeling Uchiha Obito is not placing itself in Rika's shoes but instead standing in Yuta's.

In the jujutsu world there are only two types of sorcerers.

There are those that curse and there are those that are cursed.

Those that curse are destined to live with the weight of the world bearing down on them.

Those that are cursed are forever damned.

"Not many would say that," Satoru tests. Lightly and gently. Pushing them both towards the precipice.

Uchiha Obito glances at him, a dashing light through the mirage.

"He could've done worse," Uchiha Obito says, a dare- a challenge. The quiet rumbling of thunder and lightning belaying his words. Flames atop his tongue. Challenging Satoru to question him and be burnt.

Satoru has always been partial to fire.

"How so?"

"It wasn't surprised," Gojo notes, almost distantly. "When it heard that Yuta-kun turned Rika into a curse."

That is decidedly unnerving, Kento determines. Very much so.

A child turning another into a special grade curse is, to put it bluntly, a marvel. Something extraordinary and a once in a generation action.

"It seemed almost-" A breath drawn here, memories pulling back at the seams. "- almost like it anticipated that."

"Curious, are you?" Uchiha Obito questions. Light and almost teasing. There's a dark edge to it now. Light in tone but harsh in the way that it threatens to drown Satoru whole. Burn him alive and leave his ashes in the wind.

"Who wouldn't be?" Satoru says evasively. A wry edge to his smile that rises to the occasion.

Uchiha Obito studies Satoru, again. Its expression like the shattering of stardust rearranging itself whole.

Then, once more, it says:

"Family defines us." A wry note. A tinge of something, washed away by the fire and the sunset, hitting its eyes and blinding them both. "Some more than others."

Satoru knows, more than anyone, of that.

"You think you know. You think you understand," Uchiha Obito notes, having caught his thoughts. "Is it due to your eyes?"

A challenge, a dare.

The bonfire has been lit, Uchiha Obito's eyes clash against his own. A myriad of blood against the sky.

Layers and layers, Satoru thinks.

Slowly but surely-

He's making his way to the real Uchiha Obito.

Whoever he may be, beneath it all. Beneath the blood red eyes and sardonic smiles and sardonic drawls.

Which is real?

Is it the man who lifted up his blindfold with an almost gentle touch?

Or is it the man standing in front of him now with blood red eyes and a smile that can cut through the sun?

Satoru wants to know.

"It's the Uchiha clan," Satoru says to Nanami, the color of scarlet behind his eyes. Spinning and spinning, a fascinating pattern. Spinning and spinning, for an eternity and then some. A blooming flower amidst the blood. One that promises death and decay.

Spinning and spinning. Like a pinwheel in mid flight. A sight meant to mesmerize and disarm. Distract you until you're lost in them and lose yourself entirely to red, red, red eyes.

Red eyes, spinning away.

Until they take your everything. Until they take your technique and swallow you whole. Leaving nothing behind except the red of your blood atop the earth and the blue skies above, untainted.

Red like blood.

Blue like the sky.

Satoru knows that his ancestor couldn't resist the draw of it. The red of fire and blood. The draw of death and razor sharp smiles that promise more beneath. The red that threatens to pull infinity in and take it whole, take it for themselves. Claim it and let the sky fall into their hands.

Uchiha Obito's eyes are red, red, red.

A warning, a threat-

A siren's call.

Those of the Six Eyes are born knowing everything. They are born gods and die as gods. They are born to be above it all, the earth, the world-

But if there's someone out there that can match them. That can take their being whole and leave nothing behind other than a splotch of blood-

Satoru wants to know.

"It's in the eyes," Satoru says, an echo of Uchiha Obito.

"It's in our eyes," Uchiha Obito says, quiet and crooning. Ink dipped on a canvas and dyed it in red.

As red as Uchiha Obito's eyes.

But Satoru doesn't think any ink can do that shade of red justice. Blooming bright and true under the light of the setting sun. almost seeming to shine, like the fresh gleam of blood dropped atop a battlefield. Seen only for a moment before it dulls.

Treacherous eyes, they are. They're eyes that are meant to inspire fear. With a pattern that's unlike any other. Spinning and spinning, for an eternity.

"To be an Uchiha, you must have these eyes," Uchiha Obito says, as though reciting from someone. It's voice gone obliqued and becoming almost lost within the wind. "But not all Uchiha get the honor."

Here, its lips twist into a wry smile. Something bitter, poison atop the snow.

Satoru thinks he, too, understands that, best of all.

Uchiha Obito snorts out a laugh at his expression, it's almost a mockery.

"You think you understand this, too, don't you, Satoru." His name is spoken casually now, almost naturally. Like Uchiha Obito has always known it. For all of its life. "How did you gain your eyes?"

Satoru mere smiles, it's a fawning thing with little weight.

There's no such thing as 'gain' with the Six Eyes.

You're either born a god or you're born as nothing at all.

You either win the favor of the gods or you'll be nothing at all.

"I thought you knew," Satoru says casually, lightly. Evasively.

Uchiha Obito snorts, an unbecoming sound. It sounds slightly different compared to the previous. Less reserved. Less polite. Sharper, harsher, closer.

"You, too, already know, then," Uchiha Obito says. "Of the honor that all Uchihas yearn for."

Satoru quirks a brow. Confusion overtaking his body for a brief moment before he shoots back an easy smile.

"Do I?"

Red against blue. The color of first blood stretching against the sky. Dyeing the world in scarlet.

"You do," Uchiha Obito says, sure and confident. "It's the day where it all began for 'Yuta.'"

A story is unfolding. Ink staining the blank canvas and rewriting the world whole.

Dyeing it all in red, red, red.

"It said honor," Gojo muses, quietly. "To gain those eyes."

Kento thinks he has an inkling of which eyes Gojo is talking about.

The ones of red. A red that can haunt you for the rest of your life. Reminiscent of blood and stains just as well as it.

"It has a twisted definition of the word," Gojo says, sardonic and bitter.

"We are not born with these eyes." A tale is unfolding in front of Satoru, dyed murky with the blood of children forced to grow too soon and the elders that pushed them there. "To gain them, you must be strong."

Uchiha Obito pauses, for a moment, as though considering its own words.

"Or so it is said," Uchiha Obito corrects, quietly. "It's quite the opposite."

Memories are behind Uchiha Obito's eyes. Satoru is sure none of them are pleasant.

"The true way to gain these eyes is to be weak." A tale is woven, dyed in blood. "Be weak. Weak and desperate and on death's door and you'll do just about anything for power. Power to protect." Red ink atop a blank canvas. "Let your fear overwhelm you and let your determination overwhelm that and then you will be blessed."

Uchiha Obito turns to him and it says:

"Yuta was weak, wasn't he? I imagine a child of his age wouldn't be strong." Uchiha Obito then quirks its lips, as though an inside joke. "Or perhaps not, perhaps he was talented. Too talented for his own good."

A moment, then two.

"But in the end, talent doesn't mean a damn if you don't have these eyes."

It's a horrific thing.

The way to gain those eyes. Those eyes dyed in scarlet.

Those eyes like blood, like the blood that is shed on the day they're gained.

To be pushed to the precipice. To be pushed to the very edge-

To either fight or die. To realize that you either gain those eyes or you'll die.

The Uchiha clan is entrenched in the quagmire.

Satoru can't quite find words to say.

What honor lies in that?

To push children- thirteen year olds at the least- to the battlefield and they either die or become 'honored'-

What honor lies in that? What honor can possibly lie in the blood of children?

He doesn't know. But the Uchiha clan must've.

He wonders when Uchiha Obito gained those eyes. Was it before the rocks fell? Or was it after? Was it worse for Uchiha Obito to gain a second chance at life through the miraculous activation of those eyes only to be tossed to a predetermined 'death'? Or was it worse for the boy to be tossed into the rocks and judged whether he lives or dies based on whether his eyes bloomed or not- because surely they wouldn't give a curse to a child who wasn't 'honored.'

Worse and worser.

Has Uchiha Obito's life ever not been about picking the lesser poisons out of two?

You, too, know then. Of the honor that all Uchihas yearn for.

Satoru finds himself looking at Uchiha Obito. Impassive and almost amused by its own wretched tale.

He couldn't help but wonder about the boy that once was. The boy that once existed. The boy that was weak and dying beneath those boulders.

Did you once yearn for this honor?

And more importantly-

Was it everything you wished for?

Satoru imagines not.

From the moment Uchiha Obito, the boy, was on death's door. From the moment his eyes sparked scarlet.

His fate was sealed, the canvas was drawn.

The blank slate now dyed in the colors of blood.

From the moment he was 'honored', so, too, was he chosen.

Satoru is the Honored One. Chosen from birth.

Uchiha Obito was honored. Chosen from death.

Honor, Satoru thinks. Is a funny word.

For Satoru, honor is divinity and infinity.

For Uchiha Obito, honor is death and blood.

For both of them-

Honor lies in their family. Their blood. Their lineage.

The blessings in their eyes.

The Gojo lineage is untouchable, aloof atop the clouds.

The Uchiha clan is long gone, buried away and meant to be forgotten. Ended on one bloody night, dyed just as red as their eyes.

He looks at Uchiha Obito, an infinity, sans three steps, away.

He couldn't help but think of another person, standing in his place. Another person with the Six Eyes looking out to Uchiha Obito.

Blue against red. The untouchable sky and the stained blood atop one's clothing.

Surely they, too, must've thought:

Our fates must be in reverse.

"The Uchiha clan aren't born with their eyes," Gojo reveals. There's something about his voice that has gone off kilter. "Apparently they have to gain the honor."

The word honor is a mockery of itself. Gojo's smile is a thin thing that veers on the edge of being caustic.

"It's through their emotions," Gojo continues. Caustic and cold and wrong and Kento wonders what has drawn his ire this time. "The trigger is in their emotions. Their cursed energy."

Gojo moves his hands about, and Kento readies himself for an explanation. An unwilling participant.

"Imagine this," Gojo begins. "You're facing a deadly curse and you're going to die." It's incredibly to the point, more than usual, Kento thinks. "You don't want to die because you're a child and you're young and you know there's only one way to survive this." A vague gesture, Gojo's nails scratching against the table's surface. "Your clan's technique."

Kento doesn't like where this is going in the slightest.

"At that point, your curse energy is at its zenith," Gojo explains. "Your desperation, fear, whatever negative emotions there are- fuels it enough to get through the threshold to gain these eyes."

To burn through that much curse energy is almost-

"That's right," Gojo says, a wry smile on his lips. "It's a level of curse energy that isn't normal, that you're not supposed to reach." Gojo's fingers tap against the table, Kento worries for its fate. "You pushed through your limits, sure." Tap, tap, tap, goes Gojo's fraying temper. "But the cost?"

Kento knows enough to know that it's not pleasant in the slightest, especially for children whose bodies are fragile and cursed energy is still stabilizing itself.

Kento's table fractures, dents. Gojo's cursed energy is potent in the air.

"If you imbue too much cursed energy into, say, this table, it breaks," Gojo says, blaise. "If you imbue too much cursed energy into a child, they also break."

It's a terrible technique, Kento thinks. To be pushed to your limit, to either die or live all based on whether your cursed energy can reach that threshold.

They break in every sense of the word. Their body isn't meant to cross that threshold, their mind isn't meant to bear the weight.

It is often forgotten that cursed energy is the condensation of negative emotions made into power. It's usually controllable, if a bit uncomfortable for most sorcerers.

But for those that crossed that threshold, for those that burnt out their body just for a pair of eyes-

For children that are on death's door and felt so strongly that they achieve those eyes-

The effects on their mind is unimaginable.

Most children sorcerers at least had their clan's technique when falling into battle, small as that mercy may be.

The Uchiha clan had none. They were either pushed to their limits and are honored or die weak.

It's a shitty technique. One that pushes children to their limits. According to Uchiha Obito's sordid tale.

A thought catches in Kento's mind.

He wonders if Uchiha Obito had gained those eyes before its first 'death.'

The boy was weak and was facing a near death scenario. Presumably not for the first time. And Kento can hardly imagine them wanting to stuff a curse inside a child that wasn't 'honored.'

It's terrible to think about and even worse to fathom.

Is it better for them to choose to 'kill' a child that was barely given the chance for life? Or is it worse for them to pick a 'weak' child, not yet bloomed and judge whether he lives or dies based on his eyes?

No doubt, Gojo had already thought of the same thing.

"But Okkotsu has not," Kento points out. Okkotsu, as far as they all can tell. Is stable and as right as can be.

"Yuta-kun doesn't have those eyes," Gojo says, his voice is light but terribly dreadful. "All of his cursed energy in that single moment went to anchoring Rika."

Gojo's grip relaxes on Kento's poor table.

"Instead of his cursed energy reaching beyond its limits in his own body, it went to Rika instead," Gojo explains. "It created Rika, the curse. While giving him part of his lineage's ocular abilities."

A moment, then two.

"But just creating Rika would be too lucky, wouldn't it."

They both share a glance.

Luck is something never truly in excess when it comes to the jujutsu world.

"Yuta created a curse," Uchiha Obito muses. "I'm sure you're wondering how that could be, when our eyes grant only replication."

Satoru's world flips and warps. He thinks he's gotten an answer but at the same time the void is beckoning to him.

Satoru wants to know.

"I'm not telling this to you for free." Spoken decisively, harshly. In a voice that seemingly only knew how to bark orders and trade barbed words. The sunset has fallen further, dipping the world in a slight haze and making everything almostred.

"I know," he replies, light and teasing. Voice mellowed and smoothened out by honey, meant to disarm and entrap.

Eyes dipped in ink look up at his own.

Uchiha Obito smiles, a star collapsing upon itself. The softness and pink had long fallen away, its face now highlighted by an orange- almost red- hue that makes it look cruel, vicious.

"You're prepared to pay?"

"If it's within my power," he replies, honeyed words and a coiling snake.

Uchiha Obito barks out a laugh. The soft laughter had long withdrawn to the yesteryears.

"For a man like you?" A slight pause, as though to emphasize its next words. "I doubt anything has ever been out of your power."

Uchiha Obito smiles, a blackhole in bloom.

Its eyes gaze into Satoru's.

He thinks this is what it feels like, to have an unstoppable, gaping abyss try to swallow infinity whole and leave not a scrap behind.

"That's quite an estimation of me," Satoru drawls back.

"I know men like you," Uchiha Obito replies. Sure and certain. "And you don't ever think anything is out of reach. You have one big mistake, one big failure that'll haunt you for the rest of your life, but you still believe yourself infallible because that one big failure is the only one you'll have for the rest of your life."

All this time, Satoru has been observing Uchiha Obito. Noting its ticks and habits.

But he supposes he should've known, you gaze into the abyss and it stares back and whatnot.

Uchiha Obito is no fool. It has played this game for a long time when it was alive. Probably longer than he has. A game of 'you read me and I'll read you and by the end of it I'll have created a novel off your life while you're still searching for even a hint of mine.' It plays the game well. It knows that it's a puzzle to be cracked and it's waging on the fact that it'll crack you first before you'll be able to complete it.

Satoru had taken one step closer.

Uchiha Obito had taken the other ninety-nine.

From Yuta to Yuuji to Sukuna-

What steps had Uchiha Obito not taken? What crumbs did it not leave?

A trail of breadcrumbs and tangled webs.

Whether it leads to a witch's house or the Bull of Minos is anyone's guess.

It's been weaving a trail, whether it wanted to or not. But it has realized that there's something about it that captivates Satoru, that leaves Satoru wanting to complete the puzzle and make it whole.

It had taken ninety-nine steps. From its answers to its posture, from its questions to its gaze.

And now it's asking Satoru to take the final step. To cement in this game of theirs. To realize what's at stake.

The second veil has fallen. The mask of anger and spite is gone.

Now he's onto the third. Something cruel and vicious and almost playful.

He wonders just how many layers can he peel back before he'll see the true Uchiha Obito.

How many layers he'll have to dig until there's nothing left but the soft meat of the man that Uchiha Obito was a mere moment ago before being shuttled away because Uchiha Obito realized it had gotten too soft.

The second veil has fallen, the distance between them is an infinity, sans three steps and two veils.

The blindfold is only the prelude.

He thinks that he's fallen into a quagmire. He's entrenched up to his neck and there's nothing to do about it but to delve in deeper and find the crumbs and pieces of string lurking below.

It's no longer a game, is what Uchiha Obito is saying.

It's seen him, it knows that he wants to be seen, so it'll see him for all he's worth. It'll take apart the blindfold, it'll take apart his smile next, it'll break him down to his core andseehim. It's saying that it'll give Satoru a taste if Satoru dives in as well and gives it what it wants. That it'll see Satoru and make him regret ever wanting its attention.

It'll take one step, and Satoru will have to take the other.

This'll be a dance, it's saying. Between the two of them.

Uchiha Obito smiles, a cataclysm of human errors and human mistakes collapsed into one thing.

Its eyes are searching.

Its eyes sear through infinity, almost.

"And what about men like you?" Satoru asks.

A quirked brow, an ever present smile that's not pleasant in the slightest. But it's less so than before, it's less artificial and more just the way Uchiha Obito is. Wrong and unnatural but irresistibly out of reach. Making you want to reach over and grab and slide the pieces into place of an indiscernible and enigmatic Uchiha Obito.

The second veil has fallen, Uchiha Obito seems more honest than ever.

And yet, Uchiha Obito has never been more indiscernible.

Satoru wants to see.

He wants to see the gingerbread house at the end of the road, the deadly bull at the end of the thread.

He wants to see that man again.

Uchiha Obito, the man. Uchiha Obito, the man that smiled and said-

"Nice eyes."

"Will you use your question on that?"

"Those eyes are based on emotions," Gojo says, voice light and tense all in one.

"They're fueled by negative emotions."

It's a terrible power, worse, still, when given to a child.

"So-"

"What do you think would happen if a child sees someone precious to them die right in front of them?" Uchiha Obito questions crassly.

It will be a feast, Satoru thinks. For those eyes that feed off of pain and regret and desperation and don't die.

"It's not quite the same as before, it's much more potent," Uchiha Obito says, amused. "What happens next is a clan secret."

Uchiha Obito glances at him, then. Judging him for all he's worth and challenging, daring-

Will you be worthy of it?

"The first time is desperation," Uchiha Obito recites. "The second time is grief."

A moment, then two.

"The third time is a taboo."

"Those eyes," Gojo says, drawing out his words. "They have multiple phases."

Akin to a flower, a deadly, treacherous one, at that.

"The first time is desperation for your life," Gojo says, as though reciting someone- or something." The second time is immense grief for the loss of someone important."

It's a bloody tale.

"The third time is something taboo." Gojo pauses, if only for a moment. "It didn't specify which kind."

Clan and blood.

The Uchiha clan.

Their blood red eyes- the method of activation for each phase-

It's bloody. It's brutal. It's trading away one thing for another. It's tossing away pieces of yourself, scraps and pieces and each bloody chunk just for power. Just for another chance, another fertilizer for your eyes to feast on and grow.

As if reading Kento's expression, Gojo's lips quirk up into a facsimile of a smile.

"Your Yuta must've crossed both bridges at the same time," Uchiha Obito concludes. "You're lucky the only thing he did was create a curse."

Spoken simply, casually. As though a boy's taboo actions can be waved away so easily. As though creating a curse wasn't one of the worst things you can do as a sorcerer.

"You don't believe me," Uchiha Obito states, simple and neat. As though observing Satoru's expression was just something it does on the regular. "No, you believe me but you can't fathom what could be worse than a boy creating a curse to accompany him."

A sardonic smile, red eyes that sears through infinity itself.

"Go on, then, ask." Uchiha Obito beckons, a deadly flower blooms and its scent is tantalizing. "Go on, Satoru."

And so Satoru does.

The question is asked.

The scroll unfurls.

It is stained in scarlet.

"The Uchiha clan," Gojo says, light and casual. "Must've been quite powerful."

What that strength is built on, the two of them do not say. Some things are better left unspoken, and this one is better left buried. On the tip of your tongue but never quite spoken aloud because it's like a ghost haunting your skin and to speak it aloud would feel like breaking some kind of taboo or seal upon a century old curse.

The jujutsu world has never been in need of cruelty and taboos.

It's been built upon it.

And for such a clan. For one Uchiha clan-

Their power was in themselves.

Their own desperation, grief, anger, madness-

It fueled them. Fueled their eyes. Fueled them unlike any other.

Each clan has their own source of power. Something to fuel their techniques.

The Ze'nin have their contracts. The Kamo have their blood.

The Gojo have their Infinity.

The Uchiha, once, have their own emotions.

They must've been powerful, Kento can at least acknowledge that. It's in the simple rules.

Trade in something for another of the same value.

And for the Uchiha clan. Who traded in, first, their death, then their most precious someone, and then their own morals-

For the Uchiha clan, who traded in everything-

It must've been quite a boon.

But in the same vein-

It must've been quite a curse.

For the Uchiha clan, their greatest enemy was not a deadly curse nor a wicked sorcerer, but rather-

It was themselves.

It was not a question of 'if' but simply 'when.'

When they'll be burnt and whatever idealism they once held become shattered into fine, sand pieces. When they'll be taken by a curse before it sinks its claws into them whole or they irrevocably cross a line and can never turn back again and blazes until the world burns with them.

It's just a question of 'who'.

Who will pick up the pieces and who will burn the corpse.

A conclusion is dawning on them both, it seems.

"Do you know?" Uchiha Obito asks. "What happens when an Uchiha tries to revive someone?"

Satoru can only listen.

"We try, and we fail, and we realize that there's no bringing the dead back to life." There are memories behind Uchiha Obito's eyes. None of it is pleasant. "And so, some of us cope. And eventually fail. Some deny it. They fail at that, too. Some ignore it. And it comes back to haunt them. In the end, we all have to face reality. And then-"

A moment, then two. A quiet, raspy whisper breaks through them both.

"Do you know?" Uchiha Obito looks at Satoru. A challenge and a dare. A fire to a moth. "Madness can be written in blood."

"For all those that manage to get to the second phase," Gojo muses. "They eventually all go mad."

It's a tale with no happy ending. A clan with power but with joy that has been sapped to give power to their eyes. A clan with members trapped in their own regrets and ghosts that haunt them.

Members destined to go mad and become sorcerers who used their power for treacherous deeds.

Driven mad by their own technique.

Someone had to take care of the mad clansmen. The ones that go rogue after crossing that ever-so-thin line.

Family and blood.

Usually, for clans, it's the clan members themselves who take care of the blight. It's them erasing the stain and making it right. It's them regaining their honor and face.

Kento can't imagine that it would be any different back then.

In birth and in death, you belong to your clan. You live for your clan, you fight for them, you die for them.

And for the Uchiha clan, you will also commit the taboo for them.

Kento thinks that he can take a wager at what this 'third phase' entails.

The taboo of killing one's own blood.

All for honor, for face, for dignity.

In regular clans, it's a rarity for someone to go rogue. People like Kamo Noritoshi are the exception, not the rule. So it's not common for clansmen to have to kill one of their own. Let alone even fathom the idea on a regular basis.

For the Uchiha clan, it must've been a matter of 'when' and not 'if.'

"The third phase undoubtedly needs to cross another threshold," Gojo hypothesizes. "No doubt it grants more power, but the cost is also equally heavy."

The weight of power, Kento realizes. Must be quite heavy indeed, for the Uchiha clan.

"Killing your clansmen," Gojo muses in the silence. "That's sure to do it, though."

Kento can imagine.

The mere idea of it-

Killing your clansmen. Being killed by your clansmen.

The amount of curse energy that must've generated-

First, you give up your first 'death', then you give up someone precious, then, finally, you give up your own blood.

All as fertilizer for your eyes to grow, grow, andgrow.

They are powerful eyes. Replication.

And undoubtedly, there's more about those eyes as well, beyond that. Kento doesn't doubt in the least that there's more to the pattern in Uchiha Obito's eyes than just mere cosmetics.

They are powerful eyes.

But is it worth it?

To trade in everything for more power?

Perhaps to the Uchiha clan, it must've been.

Perhaps it was a true honor for them.

But all it leaves Kento with is the feeling of bile rising up his throat. Imagining children around Itadori's age giving it all up.

Imagining another child standing in his place in the morgue, seeing their teammate's cooling corpse on that table and having someone tell them that they've been honored to proceed forward.

Kento wouldn't trade in Haibara for any amount of power.

But Kento didn't have a choice.

Kento doubts the Uchiha had any either.

People die, and there's nothing you can do about it. They die and they're gone for good and they can no longer smile at you with that stupidly enthusiastic grin of theirs and they're gone and what hurts more is knowing that maybe- just maybe you could've done better or maybe there's something that could've saved them.

Worst yet, there's the knowing that maybe you couldn't have done a damn thing at all.

Maybe for the Uchiha clan, to gain power from grief is something that makes the death feel more bearable, somehow. Perhaps it makes them think that their precious someone's death was for a purpose and therefore it is right.

But that doesn't mean it comforted them.

To know that the only way you proceed forward is to have your heart ripped from you, what a burden that must've been. To sleep and wake and live and know, with a weight on your shoulder, that to proceed-

Someone close to you must die.

And to proceed even further-

You must stain yourself with the blood of your kin.

The mere knowledge must've hung over them like a blade, threatening to fall with each day they face.

The jujutsu world has never been lacking in tragedies and regrets.

And it feels like, the further Gojo continues on, the further the Uchiha clan embodies the worst of it.

"But they must also know that Uchiha Obito could go mad at any time," Gojo continues. Not quite done with this treacherous tale. "With the curse inside him and the way his technique spurs it on, there's no doubt that one day he'll go mad as well."

Kento can already imagine the risk of it. A vessel going mad-

It's a terribly risky business. One that was more likely to happen than not. A security risk right at their doorstep. So there must've been something to secure it- something as a failstop- something like-

"That's right." Gojo practically cackles. "Introducing my terrible, no-good, super boring ancestor."

Something like that.

But the Six Eyes and Infinity do not come every generation.

It's all based on the roll of a dice from a capricious god. Testing fate everytime a Gojo child is born. To see whether they'll become honored or mundane.

"But that would mean that the Uchiha clan wouldn't get to have one of their own as a vessel unless there's a corresponding Gojo to match," Gojo says. "And that just wouldn't do."

Of course. It all circles back to that.

Power.

Not just that of the physical.

But also power between clans.

Having a vessel in their arsenal grants the Uchiha clan more power than most, Kento imagines. And having to endurenothaving that chip in their hand or having to hand it over is almost tantamount to weakness.

Power and politics.

Honor and clan.

In the face of losing power-

Madness is only an obstacle.

A question.

A single question.

That is all Satoru will get. That is all Uchiha Obito feels like divulging any further on.

A single question.

There are almost an infinite amount of things Satoru could ask about. Most of them would be meaningless and trite.

But Satoru wants to know, all the same.

He wants to know Uchiha Obito's birth hour. Whether it was with the rise of dawn or perhaps the falling of the sun to foretell a terrible future. He wants to know about Uchiha Obito's childhood, beyond the vague allusions. He wants to know what makes Uchiha Obito into Uchiha Obito.

He wants to know where Uchiha Obito, the boy, ended and where Uchiha Obito, the man, began.

He wants to know.

He wants to know whether Uchiha Obito likes the color red.

Or whether he hates it with all his heart because it's the color of his eyes. The same eyes that take, take, take until there's nothing left but power and madness. The same color as the blood that once ran through his veins and made him an Uchiha.

The same red of the uchiwa on his back.

He wants to know.

But he knows, more than ever, that he ought to not ask.

Focus, Satoru reminds himself. Against the light of the sun that has dipped far below the horizon. Leaving nothing but the cold and the last vestige of summer.

For Yuta and for Yuuji.

He needs to ask the right question.

To do right by both of them.

Satoru is a teacher now. And for better or for worse-

He's Gojo-sensei before he's Satoru.

And so he buries the meaningless questions beneath his tongue. Leave them to die a swift death before asking:

"What was the failsafe?"

Uchiha Obito pauses for a moment, as though not expecting Satoru's question. It's not a long pause, but it feels poignant all the same.

It all comes down to that.

The failsafe. The stopper. The security in place between a curse and the madness in one's veins.

Either way the dice falls, it would be important to Yuta or Yuuji.

The curse or the madness. At least one must be satisfied for anyone to even consider the idea of setting loose an Uchiha vessel. Let alone the Uchiha clan itself, who knows, vein deep, how easily the madness takes.

"I believe I told you," Uchiha Obito says. Leaning closer, ever closer between the infinity that separates them. Veering closer to the edge.

Satoru feels like he's a brush shy of the sun. Scorching and hot. Like a moth to a flame.

Red, red, red.

Those eyes sear through him. Sear through infinity and touch upon his skin. Like fire and blood.

It stains.

"Seals, Satoru," Uchiha Obito continues. Simple as day.

Seals.

Again, with the seals. That Uchiha Obito claims to not be in its area but now is so intertwined with.

Seals for the curse?

But then-

Uchiha Obito reaches over and there's a ghost of a touch upon his chest. Or at least, that was the goal.

"To contain, to control," Uchiha Obito says. "Written on paper." A slight push against infinity. Reaching, burning, searing. "On one's skin."

An amused smile, a flower in bloom, the ink has been tipped over.

It dyes the world in red.

"The heart can be inked, sorcerer," Uchiha Obito says, almost like an echo. "Just like any other scrap of paper."

"There was a seal on Uchiha Obito's heart," Gojo says, almost distracted, digging through memories and moments. "It wasn't to control the madness or the curse, not only that, at least."

The more they delve, the further it goes.

What lies beneath is a bottomless abyss.

It's the location of the seal. The kill switch over Uchiha Obito's heart. Set to detonate at a random beat.

"Over the heart," Gojo muses. Wry with dark humor. "It's a good location to exorcise something from within."

But something went wrong.

"Indeed," Gojo says, as though reading Kento's mind. "The seal never got the chance to go off."

If it did, Uchiha Obito wouldn't be standing in front of them now.

Hale and whole. Sound as can be.

A curse.

"How does taking out someone's heart sound," Gojo says, teasingly. "As an execution method."

Gojo couldn't possibly be-

"It would take out the seal, wouldn't it," Gojo continues, just to spite Kento, probably. "And it would be a pretty set fate for Uchiha Obito. At least, for those that aren't in the know." A pause, as though to emphasize. "On paper, that is."

A moment, then two.

"And who would know?" Gojo asks, to no one. "Who would think that taking out the heart is the plan to save Uchiha Obito's life? The seal wouldn't be on anyone's mind at that point, I imagine. And the person had to act quickly, before someone could remember to use that seal. Whatever the switch to activate it was, that terribly boring person had to get there faster. Maybe pull their rank, maybe say that they're the only one who can do it, maybe say that this is the only way to be sure."

It's a plan that involves two.

No-

Only one needs to act upon it.

"On paper it would be executing Uchiha Obito. In practice, it would be saving him from certain death," Gojo concludes. "To get the chance to turn him into a curse."

The curtain is falling.

There lurks more questions beneath the fold.

The doomed Uchiha clan, what happened there?

Why the seal, what was its purpose beyond acting as a kill switch?

What about the other vessels? What went wrong there?

And most confusing of all-

Why would a Gojo with the world at their fingertips toss it all away, just for Uchiha Obito?

The further they go, the more questions they have.

Kento feels like he's been swept up in Gojo's terrible world.

And there's not a thing he can do about it.

There's a man standing in front of Yuta. Ominous outfit and all with a severe expression.

"I told your teacher to deliver some news," Uchiha Obito says, voice raspy and deep. "But I thought that some things are better said personally."

Uchiha Obito stands there, on Yuta's doorstep.

"Family matters."

A quirk of the lips.

There's a clash of red and black.

There's a curse at the window.

Its form is familiar.

It stretches its legs and almost seems to relish in dropping into the brat's room.

There's the quirk of the lips.

"You're not the vessel," Sukuna says.

Something smiles back.

A curse without a name.

"I'm his clone. Sent to check on… Itadori," the curse says, its voice a cacophony. Almost like each word was grabbed from a different sentence. Each syllable of the brat's name drawn out carefully as though it hadn't quite figured out how to speak. "Or I was supposed to be."

Something stares down at Sukuna.

It smiles.

The pattern upon its eyes is wholly unique.

"Obito has always been a bit careless," A quiet drawl. The voice is that of the vessel and yet not. And yet it sounds more like the vessel it's supposed to be, it's voice changing, twisting, evolving. With each passing letter, each passing word. "Even as a child."