'Juubi' is a meaningless name. It's a cold clinicality of listing a beast down by its features. Just like how the Kyuubi is described based on its nine tails and how 'Kappa' is just the blending of the word 'river' and 'child.'

It's not quite giving curses a name, persay. But more of categorizing them into groups and ranks.

Sometimes curses are named based on their classification. Their appearance. For lower rank curses usually belong to one group or another. Being born of common, miscellaneous thoughts and feelings that aren't quite warped enough to form stronger curses.

They don't quite have a name as they are given one for convenience's sake.

There's no fear there, either. Of giving such curses a 'name'. For most do not fear them, nor would those outside the jujutsu world even fear them. So it's generally safe to do so.

However, one must remember that names are power, in the jujutsu world.

This is doubly so for curses.

Sometimes, curses are given names based on their classification.

And yet.

Just like humans and sorcerers, curses are not born all equal.

Some curses are born with a name.

Born out of a name.

Such is the birth of the Kyuubi and Kuchisake-Onna.

They are not quite given a name as they are birthed from one. They are granted an unlife from myths and legends and stories passed from one to another, building infamy, power.

It's a well documented phenomenon. During the age wherein yokai and curse were somewhat synonymous. Wherein yokai were but one a dozen and born from any word of mouth, wherein the dice is casted for whichever name spoken to see which would become the next 'Kyuubi' and which would become forgotten within history.

Even the name 'Juubi' is meaningful in its own way, for as much as Satoru doesn't recognize it.

There's no denying that it's eerily similar to 'Kyuubi'.

If the number of tails a fox has represents its age and power. Each tail stripping away its weakness and sharpening unrefined metal into a deadly weapon. Changing a simple yokai into something more, something greater.

The name 'Juubi' is much too familiar to 'Kyuubi' for it to be a coincidence.

And even then.

There are no true coincidences in the jujutsu world.

There is no such thing as chance, especially in the jujutsu world. No such thing as a perfect vessel for Sukuna being born from pure chance; no such thing as a once powerful clan disappearing off the face of the world out of pure unluckiness; no such thing as a curse named 'Juubi' out of a mere accident.

The name 'Juubi' is reeking with intent. It's meaningful in the way that 'Obito' is, in a strange way.

But instead of a parent wishing their child to become something honorable in the future, 'Juubi' is a name that carries only a malicious intent to create a monster.

If 'Obito' is a name given to a babe in the hopes of a bright future; then 'Juubi' is a name given to a newborn curse for the twisted goal of its maker.

It's a name that no one in the world will recognize. It's a remarkably childish notion as well, if you think about it.

Adding another tail upon the nine, just to see if it would work. It's terribly simple, and even more childish.

But looking at it now, perhaps it had worked, after all.

The abyss stares back at Satoru.

Uchiha Obito's eyes have never been quite as dark, quite as devouring.

The Juubi looks back at Satoru. It's not quite fear, it's not quite joy.

It's nothing at all.

Whereas Uchiha Obito is the restrained edges of reeled emotions, then whatever is inhabiting its body now is the devouring abyss of the beckoning void.

There is no fear reflected in its eyes when seeing the strongest. Nothing at all other than a dull note of deja vu, perhaps, but then that gives way to nothing at all. Eclipsed by the consuming void.

If Uchiha Obito's eyes are the scarlet of blood, then this curse's eyes are the black of the collapsing sun.

Then, there is a shift in its demeanor. Something resembling a flickering of a light and the minute switch of a frame gone by.

The void gives way to something lighter, brighter.

Human.

Its legs swing in a rhythmic pattern, unlike Uchiha Obito's stiff, methodical ones. Its blinks are clumsy, in a way, unpracticed. Its breathing is unregulated. Sometimes taking too deep a breath, sometimes doing the opposite and breathing quicker as though to make up for it. Its entire body more animated than Uchiha Obito's had ever been. Its face, even more so. Stiff lips giving way into a smile and black eyes curving up into an unfamiliar smile.

Its heart beats beneath its chest. Loud and resounding in Satoru's ear, akin to a death knell rather than anything else.

It's identical to Uchiha Obito in appearance, but other than that, the two differ in every single way, Satoru thinks.

And perhaps that, too, is no coincidence.

But what exactly it means, eludes Satoru for now.

It's much more human than anything Uchiha Obito is. If you squint and cover up its archaic clothing, you could almost trick yourself into believing that it's another sorcerer with a too potent cursed energy.

But perhaps, that is what makes it all the more eerie. For it is not a sorcerer, and you are not comrades.

Each heart beat is a reminder that it is wrong.

That there is an artificial heart in a space where there should be nothing at all.

For Uchiha Obito's heart is probably long gone, just like the seal that was once upon it.

And perhaps this is something that Uchiha Obito knows, itself, for its heart does not beat.

But the Juubi seems to disagree, for it forces there to be a heart where there is none. A defiance to the natural order, an extra effort extended for something that no one other than Satoru and the most sensitive of sorcerers will notice.

Again, this, too, is probably no coincidence.

"Is 'Juubi' not a name?" Satoru questions, breaking the brief silence between them.

The curse gives a shrug, it's incredibly familiar. It's a motion that's a tad too casual for Uchiha Obito.

Its lips curl into something that's a smile, but not quite.

It's a smile that reaches its eyes, but Satoru can tell that it doesn't quite reach anything beyond surface level.

"Is it?" The Juubi parrots back, sounding almost sincere, if only there wasn't the slightest tang of mocking beneath its words. Like a well hidden viper that lurks beneath the grass right up until it lurches up for a bite.

This, too, is another way in which Uchiha Obito and this curse differs.

Uchiha Obito's questions are sharp, uncompromising. If it were here now, it's 'is it?' would be spoken softer, with less emotions, more stoic. Leaving you wondering whether its displeased or not and leaving you with nothing at all.

The curse in front of Satoru now has none of that subtlety and none of the restraint.

"Feel free to call me as such, then," it says, almost light.

There's something dismissive about its friendly words. Something cold that meshes terribly against its seemingly welcoming statement. A cold edge to its cursed energy that goes against its lackadaisical smile. A minute shift in the space around them, the cold tendril of something slipping through the cracks before being sealed shut once more.

This is a sensitive topic for it, Satoru recognizes. Something almost raw about the way it's acting. Something like a wound touched and a scratch teared open.

"It's an odd name," Satoru notes, his voice just as light, just as casual.

He's always been keen on picking at open wounds.

The Juubi shrugs, again, then looks intently at Satoru's face. Not quite the searching gaze of Uchiha Obito, but something more dismissive instead.

"It was not meant to be a name," it answers simply.

This, too, is something different.

"What was it meant to be, then?" Satoru asks, simply because he can.

If it were Uchiha Obito standing in the curse's place, now, there'd no doubt be some vaguely spoken answer or an exchange of glances. Something like 'What can you offer me in return?' and 'How much are you willing to pay for your answer?'. For it was never a game of questions and answers between the two of them but rather a bargaining auction between offering up information in exchange and seeing which one will come out on top, which one will get the bargain of a lifetime and which will come away with less than they've given away.

There is no such exchange, no such minute calculations with the curse in front of Satoru now.

"A title," it replies, tossing an answer out as though it didn't particularly care for mind games. Whether that's due to its portrayed innocence or whether it does not care whether this particular truth gets out is up to anybody's guess.

It's an anticlimactic answer, drawn out with almost no effort. No fight, no struggle, not a single back and forth exchange.

It's certainly an easy answer. Probably important. But it also feels wrong, somehow. Like this isn't meant to be known so easily. Especially not with something wearing Uchiha Obito's face but bearing none of its penchant for restraint.

It doesn't feel like an exchange but rather a passing of glances between two that views each other as the ant.

There's a marked indifference about the way that it's looking at Satoru. Something cold and distant and high from above, almost like it could care less what Satoru makes of its answer. Almost like it feels like whatever Satoru thinks will amount to nothing at all.

It irks at something terrible for Satoru. It's the same type of haughtiness that Sukuna is, in a way. The same type of deadly confidence, of poisonous arrogance. But it's also not, in a way. It's not quite the type of insidious confidence of a millenia old curse, like Sukuna is. But rather a simple sort of simple conviction. Like a child knowing that the sky is blue and the grass is green.

It's that sort of uncomplicated assurance, that sort of easy acceptance of the facts.

It shows no thought in hiding anything at all.

It doesn't feel like it needs to hide a single thing, laying its cursed energy for all to see. A declaration, a simple statement of the facts.

Though, it's cursed energy feels tepid. Quiet and almost miniscule. It's a thing that's insidious to the touch and miasmic to the atmosphere, but not quite oppressive. Not quite matching with the curse's demeanor, its loud confidence.

It's almost benign in the way that grade 3 curses are. A slight threat, to be sure, but nothing to write home about.

It's a low amount of cursed energy, Satoru notes. Too low for the low, trickling miasma of cursed energy it's giving off.

It's a type of condensed malice that's only associated with special grades. The vicious type of bite that only comes with a curse made from the very worst of humanity. It's something pungent and scrying, trying to dig deep into your skiing, prying beneath your nails just to see how long the pressure can last before it just pops right off.

It's not something that belongs to a mere grade 3 curse, not even grade 1.

Only special grade can encompass something like that.

And even then, that's a stretch.

It's a blatant contradiction against its tepid curse energy. Low, akin to the sluggish waters during a spring tide.

It's a familiar feeling, Satoru notes. Something that he has only felt in the presence of Sukuna.

"You're only part of the Juubi," Satoru muses bluntly.

It's that type of feeling, Satoru recognizes. Like glancing at a mirror that's not quite whole. Something cracked and fragmented and made all the more wane for it. Like pieces of the moon before its full rise.

The Juubi smiles, this time, it reaches beneath the surface.

"You're right," it says, sounding almost alive. Its voice is odd in the way that a jumbled jigsaw puzzle is. It's Uchiha Obito but not quite, it's Uchiha Obito blended with another's. "You're observant."

It's a factual note, a tidbit that someone would mark down during a presentation and toss into the trash mere moments later.

"This is only a fraction of 'me.'" It places a hand over its heart, a motion that's supposed to mean something. But now is more a mockery than anything else.

It's a motion that's only done for the sake of doing it, of placing a hand over one's heart to say 'me', but Satoru can tell that the curse in front of him has no clue of the reason behind the logic. For it places a hand over its heart and tilts its head, almost in consideration, before letting its hand fall down to the wayside.

"This body is a clone," it admits, after a moment, its tone growing distant and almost bored. As though it's done playing human for the moment. "It is a copy of Obito."

Clone. A technique, Satoru thinks. A remarkably useful one, at that. Probably something that Uchiha Obito managed to copy from centuries ago and brought into modern times.

Though, of course, whether due to it only being a mere copy or whether the technique was flawed to begin with- it seems that the clone's flaw lies in the fact that it can only be a fraction of the original.

However, it bodes nothing but ill news if the curse has managed to manifest itself as a clone, or even within one from its original restrained state.

"You're not a clone," Satoru notes. For while it had mentioned its body being that of a clone's, it had no mentions about itself.

Again, it looks at Satoru. There's something about its gaze that's cheerful in the way that children are. Simple and direct, the first shades of uncomplicated joy that one usually associates with only children.

"I am not," it answers easily, there is no back and forth, now. And Satoru doubts if there'll ever be one. "I should not have been within this body."

'Should.'

So it was Uchiha Obito that created the clone, rather than the curse within Uchiha Obito gaining the power to. Which bodes well for the prospect that perhaps it's not quite powerful enough just yet.

But then what was the purpose of creating this clone? And does this mean that Uchiha Obito cannot control the clone that it had created?

More questions, Satoru thinks. More questions from an answer.

Perhaps, in this way- in this single, frustrating way- the curse inside Uchiha Obito mirrors the vessel itself.

"I am only a fragment of myself," it explains. "When this body disappears, I will return to myself."

It then glances right at Satoru's eyes, there's something resembling childlike curiosity in its eyes.

"Does that make you feel better?" it asks, bluntly. There's something sincere about its mocking words. Though, at this point, the two blend together seamlessly.

Satoru smiles back, it's nothing pleasant.

Satoru wonders if this curse can even tell the difference.

He wonders if it can even tell the difference between a smile and something meant to threaten.

He wonders if that matters at all.

He wonders what it means.

For a curse to be born like this. To grow into this. Carefree and lackadaisical if you ignore the torrent of insipid miasma lurking beneath its skin.

He wonders what created this curse.

"You wanted to kill me," it says, its voice stretching out the word 'kill' as though something new to test upon its tongue. It still sounds remarkably cheerful. Satoru thinks the cheer is genuine, though he does not know what for.

"Well, you are a threat," Satoru answers, just as cheerfully.

Though, his cheer is much less sincere.

But does it matter?

The curse in front of him doesn't seem to know, nor care.

"You aren't the first," it answers back, much too uncaring to have been threatened by the strongest. "To kill Obito and kill me in turn."

Satoru's brain skips for a moment, lagging behind at the casual admission of the curse in front of him.

"You even share his appearance," the Juubi muses, cruel in the way that only children can be.

It remembers a man. With hair of fine silver and eyes that did not match one another.

It remembers that man. It remembers the smell of wolves and the scent of thunder in the air. The feel of lightning upon its skin when the man's chakra flared. The strange feeling of pain within Obito's heart, as though being ran through by the worst of storms.

It remembers that man, standing a battlefield apart.

It remembers Obito thinking about his younger life. Of the man and Obito and a girl that it never saw upon the battlefield.

It remembers flashes of another's memories in its mind.

It remembers a searing pain through the heart.

It remembers staring at the man through another's eyes and thinking, you win, again.With something terrible on its tongue, like swallowing stones and rocks. It remembers thinking-

Why is it always you? with the same emotion that Uchiha Madara had felt when gazing upon his brother that will never wake up again.

In the end.

The man is gone. There is a different moon residing over its head. The battle has ended.

The war has concluded.

There just remains-

Why?

It does not understand.

It does not understand why, even if the worlds are different-

Obito sees the shadow of Hatake Kakashi within Gojo Satoru.

It thinks it can see another similarity, now.

It understands even less with that realization.

This, too, is something it'll learn with time.

It is one thing to hypothesize that your ancestor has once tried to kill the man turned curse they- he?- had obviously cared about.

It is another matter entirely to have it confirmed.

It is one thing to know that no named, no good Gojo had killed Uchiha Obito to turn him into a curse.

It is another matter entirely to know that, rather than it being a protection of Uchiha Obito, it rather was something cold and calculated instead. An attempt at Uchiha Obito's life to save the world.

To kill Uchiha Obito and the curse within the man, in turn. Those are the words that the Juubi spoke.

It could be lying, Satoru thinks. For he knows not its cues and indicators when it does so.

But then again-

What if it were true?

Satoru thinks he should be happy.

He thinks that he should be happy that his ancestor had carried the responsibility of the world upon his shoulders, just as Satoru is. He thinks that he should be happy that his ancestor saw the world and Uchiha Obito and ended up choosing the world, after all.

But he's not.

He's not happy.

It feels like a bitter realization. Burning rancid and hot upon his tongue, because something had obviously gone wrong in the process.

That no-named, no good Gojo had chosen the world-

But something went awry.

And perhaps that something is 'regret.'

Satoru can almost picture it. He can taste the blood in the air and see the dying man laying ahead. He can imagine someone else standing upon his place, with the eyes of heaven within their skull and the world at their fingertips.

But all the power in the world cannot bring the dead back to life. Not in the way that matters.

This is something that Satoru knows, best of all. Seeing that man dead against a forgotten corner of the jujutsu world. Body slumped over and hair in disarray. An arm torn out and life torn apart.

He wonders if they had once stood in his place. Except instead of a man with flowing dark hair and a torn golden kasaya, there laid a scarred man with short hair and bloodied purple robes.

He wonders if they stood in the same place as him- for they must've surely- for surely-

He wonders what words were said. He wonders if Uchiha Obito had parted his lips and said-

At least, curse me a little. A lament, a regret, a yearning for something that once was and never could be again.

Between a friend and being the strongest, Satoru could've only ever been one.

And so it was.

A Gojo cannot curse anyone. And a Gojo is forbidden from ever doing so. For in doing so, they have broken the taboo. For, in doing so, they have crossed a line that they can never step back from again.

Perhaps Suguru had said it as a joke, a last sardonic jab before he goes wherever the dead goes.

But there was a hint of sincerity in those words that even Satoru cannot deny. A brief,maybein them. A hint of a future, drawn, together. A glimpse into a 'what if' and 'maybe I could'.

Something had flickered in Suguru's eyes in that moment, something in the space between him uttering those words and laughing.

Perhaps he, too, knew that Satoru was the honored one before he was Satoru.

And gods do not get to pick and choose who to defy the natural order for.

But Satoru cannot deny that there was a brief glimpse of the future within his grasp at that moment. Something tantalizing and almost hypnotic about those words. Something that made him yearn for a future that will not exist and cannot ever come into being.

There, once, too, must've been a man standing in his place.

He once thought that their paths had never aligned.

And yet.

It had.

For that one moment in time. Both their paths had converged into one moment. Wherein the burden of being the strongest vied against the duties of being a loved one. Wherein there is a choice to be made but in the end you know that there's only one choice that could possibly be chosen.

Between being the strongest and being a friend, there was only a chance for one.

This, too, must've been something that the no-named Gojo knew.

This, too, must've been something that crossed their mind at least once during that capsule in time.

Between the world and Uchiha Obito, that no-named, no good ancestor had chosen the world.

And yet.

When that no-named, no good, terribly indecisive Gojo had stood there, where Satoru once stood and forced to make the same decision-

Between being the strongest and being a friend-

There could only be one.

Satoru does not know what words were passed upon on that day. He does not know what was said between Uchiha Obito and that no-named, no good, terribly indecisive ancestor. He does not know the before, nor does he know what future that no-named, no good, terribly indecisive ancestor saw.

But it must've been a future worth more than the world.

And perhaps that ancestor wasn't terribly indecisive, after all. Because in the end, a decision like that does not come from someone who could ever be indecisive.

It's a decision you know that, when you make it, you'll be forever damned.

There are many things that ancestor lacks. A name, Satoru's good looks, ethics, morals-

But perhaps the one thing that that ancestor did not lack was conviction.

At the eleventh hour, that ancestor had stood in Satoru's shoes and had taken the other path. He must've envisioned a future he so desperately wished for.

He does not know what is worse.

To kill a man and doom the world for the sake of love. Or to kill a man for the world only to regret at the last second and seek to undo everything you had stood for moments ago.

The story between Uchiha Obito and that no-named, no good, terribly decisive ancestor does not end there.

But it feels like whatever comes next is surely not the fairy tale that Satoru's ancestor had imagined.

The Uchiha clan is gone, Uchiha Obito is supposed to be dead, and the world that Uchiha Obito once knew has long been gone.

Uchiha Obito would've woken up to a world that no longer holds the 'Uchiha' clan in esteem, with his blood upon his friend's hands.

In the end, that Gojo had dragged them both down into the quagmire to drown.

And yet.

Uchiha Obito is still alive now. By a long dead man's will.

Perhaps he, too, wished his story had ended centuries ago.

"And what was his name?" Satoru asks, sounding much too casual for what he's feeling.

There's a pounding in his ears.

He thinks that it's his own heart.

Or perhaps that's Uchiha Obito's heart.

"Kakashi," the curse says, it's an exact match to Uchiha Obito's cadence. It's no longer a jigsaw puzzle of mishmashed voices but rather something concrete and melancholy. A whisper in the wind, drawn out with a thousand emotions and a thousand more memories. It's a weighty kind of word. The kind that's short and simple but can weigh down the entire sky and then some.

Kakashi, Satoru thinks.

Scarecrow.

It's an awfully odd name, if you take it literally. And Satoru is certain that no one, outside the most traditional or oddest sorcerers would deign to name a child that, now, but if you look upon it from another angle, it's a surprisingly fitting name for someone marked as the strongest.

A scarecrow watching over the fields. Deterring birds and pests from disturbing the fields.

It's a roundabout way of the Gojo clan naming the newly born babe as their, and the jujutsu world's, protector. A scarecrow over the fields. A stopgap to the curses threatening the mundane world at every hour.

It's certainly different from Satoru's, whose name was only meant to propel himself, and the Gojo clan in turn, to greatness.

'Kakashi' is almost a noble name, a sentimental one.

Satoru even thinks it's a bit ironic.

Because for all that Gojo Kakashi must've protected-

In the end, he couldn't even protect what he most cared about.

Between the world and Uchiha Obito, he could've only protected one.

And so he had chosen.

The dice has long been casted, and in the end, he had lived up to his name.

A scarecrow upon the fields, protecting all but one corpse.

"It fits," Satoru says, almost whimsically.

"Does it?" the curse questions back, just as lightly. Its gaze is lofty, almost amused. Its shape a warping thing, flickering in and out of the fabric of reality.

One moment, there sits Uchiha Obito.

The next-

A man with gray hair sits in front of Satoru.

Everything else about the man is blurred, becoming shapeless and flickering back into the void.

The curse sighs, for a moment, then two. The man's lips curving up into a lazy smile before it returns to being Uchiha Obito.

"This body is running out of power," the curse says, lightly, cheerfully, in another man's voice. It's a soothing, deep one. One that clashes terribly against Uchiha Obito's appearance. "I do not know when we'll meet again."

The curse stands up, then. And gives Satoru a wave.

"But we will meet again," it promises, and Satoru has no doubt that this, too, will hold true.

There's a smile on its lips. It's viciously childish.

"Maybe then, you won't be able to tell the difference."

This, too, Satoru recognizes, is a promise.

"I doubt it," Satoru challenges. His mind a thousand paces away.

The curse just smiles, its hair a flickering thing in the moonlight. Warping between silver and black.

"If you can tell, I'll give you a story as a gift."

And then, with a whisper, it's gone.

Satoru reaches up into his own hair, putting a fine strand between his fingers.

It's not alike at all, he finds himself thinking.Uchiha Obito must be blind.

He's not sure why he's so frustrated.

He's not sure why he wants to eclipse Gojo Kakashi's shadow with his own.