Roxanne remembers the first time she was sent to dispatch a curse user rather than exorcizing an actual curse.
In retrospect, she thinks the reason for this was some twisted way for the Higher Ups to keep her from getting any real respect in jujutsu society. At least, not enough to be invited to more…formal events.
They'd summoned her to their meeting chamber, seated behind their ancient and delicate screens while she stood, feeling like she was on trial before them. Satoru had warned her beforehand that this was exactly their aim. The atmosphere of the chamber was deliberately cloying and judgemental. They'd asked her a series of questions, some invasive, some not. One of them had the nerve to insinuate she was fucking Satoru for a chance to be hitched to one of the Big Three.
She'd rolled her eyes at that. But she hadn't dissuaded them from thinking she was fucking Satoru Gojo. She absolutely had been at the time.
Then came the mission: someone had been targeting young women between the ages of 20-25, and always the deaths were the same: they would go to bed perfectly healthy, and when discovered, all of them looked at least 80 years old. The investigation had originally been originally offered to Yuki—another special grade sorcerer they bore no real liking for—but as usual, Yuki passed, and so the task had fallen to her. Roxanne realized then that they deliberately chose them because they fit the profile of the killer's victims.
Of course Roxanne said yes. She was only 19 but she had everything to prove.
The hunt for the killer was easy, once she'd gone over the files of the initial investigations, cross-referencing them with the police reports. Sure enough, every single case—there had been six victims thus far, two months apart—reeked of residual cursed energy. Roxanne had done her due diligence, and being a special grade sorcerer knew she had the right to demand the resources needed to accomplish her mission. She had already narrowed down that it was not a known cursed spirit in the ten kilometer radius of the victims' last moments. The Elders had resisted approving her access to the Archive at first, but she cited their own rules back at them, forcing their hand.
Most sorcerers in the jujutsu world would have likely attended Jujutsu Tech at either the Tokyo or Kyoto locations. Very rarely can jujutsu be self-taught, especially since so few sorcerers are born. Most sorcerers are registered in the Archive as a result. In the Archive is information on all known sorcerer families, extensive history and ancestral records, and the most prized information: extensive dossiers on innate, inherited, and unique techniques dating back centuries.
It didn't take Roxanne long to narrow it down: she thrived amidst books and soaking up information after all. She matched the residuals with a few names, and went a-hunting.
Until she actually came face to face with her prey, Roxanne hadn't understood what was truly being asked of her. In her mind, she was doing what was essentially detective work. In her mind, she would apprehend the curse user, turn them over to the jujutsu authorities, and they'd decide what to do with them.
It never occurred to her that she was carrying out an assassination in which she was judge, jury, and executioner.
It was the first time she summoned a lethal domain expansion, and the result had been the most gruesome thing she witnessed, and she'd wrangled curses that devoured children. Using her techniques against a flesh and blood human was different than exorcizing a curse.
For example: the remains don't burn to ash in purple flames.
Roxanne had tried reasoning with the curse user, trying to get them to stand down, but they'd forced her hand. Their domain expansion was a nasty one: speeding up time to age those trapped inside. A countdown would begin and at the end of five seconds, the trapped victim would be aged to a withered corpse. Gruesome and cruel, much like the curse user. Roxanne had nearly lost her life, but knew she could win with her own ability.
Roxanne had used reversed curse energy to heal herself as she aged, expanded her domain, won a domain clash by sheer force of will, and turned all that cursed energy on the sorcerer, and without realizing it, tore out most of their nervous system, like tearing wires from a machine. The spinal cord and nerve network was all that remained of them, and Roxanne realized that night that her ability was gruesome and cruel too.
It was a sobering mission, and she had taken the next month off to recuperate, understandably. It was then Gojo taught her how to do that desperate gamble more efficiently.
Now, though, Roxanne has killed more than her fair share of curse users. She hates that it got easier as time wore on. How she never considered that she would be the one being hunted one day.
"Howwww is he so fucking fast?!" Roxanne cries, pivoting on the ball of her foot, executing a hairpin turn before ducking under the swipe of Yuta's katana. The cursed energy imbued in it is palpable to her and she knows that the intent to kill is behind every swing.
What she can't understand is why Yuta of all people has been selected for such a grim task.
Every blow they trade costs her, and how not? She's been running herself ragged for days, keeping their exhausted group together as they navigate Tokyo's cursed streets and alleys, seeking others. And now, with this veil…could it have been Yuta? Did he lower the veil before coming in pursuit? And how has she not sensed him until now?
Choso is nowhere in sight, but she prays he's got the strength to provide some support. Right now, Roxanne conserves her cursed techniques. She hasn't had to summon her domain since the Shibuya Incident but she'd rather not have to kill Yuta.
When she experiences what it's like to fight him: she doesn't think she can.
Like her bout with Sukuna, every inch of ground she gains, she must work for. Yuta makes it clear his target is Yuji, but Roxanne works to waylay him at every turn.
Until his cursed energy spikes, and Roxanne is left confused.
"Choso, you got eyes on him?!" She calls. There's no answer, and she traces the residual cursed energy. He's covered a lot of ground in a blink. How did he get faster? Can he blink like Satoru? She has no idea how vast this kid's repertoire is, but from her conversations with Satoru, they are pretty extensive.
You idiot, she thinks bitterly, why'd you have to go and get yourself sealed? Now the entire country is about to collapse. And Nanami is—
She rounds a corner, and is swiftly rejoined by Choso.
"I lost track of him," he reports and Roxanne doesn't respond, pointing to the residual trail she's following. It's a strong residual, and by the time she catches up with Yuta he's already bearing down on Yuji and Megumi. Roxanne reaches through the residual cursed energy, seeking Yuta's signature. She gathers it in her proverbial grip, and activates her technique, which, she fondly thinks, finally has a name: Vibe Check.
Roxanne tries not to chuckle as she "vibe checks" Yuta. Nothing fatal, of course, but enough to slow him down and delay his strikes. She smirks in satisfaction as she sees the surprise and almost remorseful look as he turns to look at her. His eyes are wide, the shadows beneath them bruising under the street lamps.
And then the very world seems to shift .
Roxanne has felt Yuta's cursed energy before: she knows it is pressure , but she has also adapted to it. But what he summons—or rather, what is summoned when Yuta comes to even the slightest harm—is so much worse . And it has a name.
Roxanne hasn't felt cursed energy this immense since Sukuna was unleashed in Shibuya.
The air ripples and tears open as two enormous clawed hands emerge from… beyond . The cursed energy pressure from Yuta increases so much that Roxanne can no longer hold him. He slips from her technique's hold as if she has the grip of a child.
"Y̴̗̦̺͈͔̝͇͇̞̐͌̔̑̎ư̷̪̻͇̋̎̓̌͑͗͗̇͆̎̆͛̒̕ť̸̡̡̘̤͉̫̟̜̣̠͛̓͐ȁ̵̘͈̊͊͗͊̓̏͗͗̈́͠͠à̵̡̧̜̖̰͉̲̿͊̃̔̾̿̿̊̋͑̚͝͝͝a̶̳̺͓̝̤̲̓̒̄̐̈́͐̃͒̔͝a̸̧̡̢̹̜͚̮̥̹̻̪̮̞̥̥̿̔͛͛̐́̿"
The voice is like nails scraping chalkboard, or an ax blade dragging on asphalt. It is slow and ponderous but distressed. Yuta's expression softens as he turns his attention to the curse emerging. It is the most horrifying thing Roxanne has ever seen, and it has a name.
Rika.
"It's alright, Rika," Yuta says, his voice tender, as if he's speaking to a loved one—an adored one. "Can you hold those sorcerers still for me? I need to talk to Itadori."
The creature known as Rika turns its sights on Roxanne and Choso. Roxanne tries to ignore the feeling of dread prickling her spine, and a familiar sense prickling her nape. What will happen if Rika is ordered to kill her? Will Sukuna be bound to act to defend her?
It takes her a moment to realize that she's pinned, and Choso is too. It's like being weighed down by a train…or a building. Every time she struggles the grip gets tighter, and worse she can hear Rika's heavy breathing above her.
Part of her wishes, for a moment of expedient joy, that Rika does kill her. But then, everyone will know about her little party trick. Making a Lazarus Pact at Satoru's behest had been a smart move, but being back in Japan [and trapped in Japan, now] means she's likely going to burn through all seven eyes and then that cheeky raven will just be another edgy, witchy tattoo.
She takes a breath, and summons the serpent, which slithers from around her waist onto the ground beneath her. It's a gamble, but she needs to divert Rika's focus so she can concentrate.
The serpent's cursed energy is not as high, but high enough that she can feel the curse's interest begin to shift. She has deliberately withheld its full manifestation to prevent complete destruction. Usually, her serpent shikigami is used to spy on her enemies, and was hard-won through trial by fire and fury in order to win an appointment with the curse user known for imbuing their work with cursed energy to manifest various shikigami using their tattoo gun as a cursed tool. The name of the artist was unknown, but Roxanne won her appointment. And she considers it well-worth the cost simply to be able to do shit like this.
Rika's head jerks in the direction of the cursed energy spike, and it is just the opening Roxanne needs to activate her technique. She attempts to contain Rika, turning the cursed energy in on itself.
She realizes her mistake six seconds in.
Whatever Satoru has told her of this boy and his cursed companion has definitely been watered down.
Rika feels the invasion of Roxanne's technique and her backlash is as furious and quick. Roxanne barely has time to release her technique and protect herself with domain amplification before Rika lifts her into the air and throws her.
Oh good, I thought I was done for. Roxanne thinks before crashing into a telephone pole, snapping it as she falls to the ground. She's on her feet soon after, and this time she goes after Yuta. Yeah, fuck you, Yuta.
Her forearm collides with his katana, and she holds her amplification, letting it soak up the shockwave and the cursed energy before she glares at Yuta over the spire of his blade.
"Call off your girlfriend, kid," Roxanne growls. "And let's talk it out."
Yuta meets her glare with his seemingly impassive, sorrowful gaze.
"There's nothing to discuss," his cursed energy increases, and Roxanne grounds her stance, the asphalt cracking beneath her. God she really needs a vacation after dealing with this shit.
"Yuta," she grounds out, " please . For Satoru's sake, if nothing else!"
She hates to play a trump card but it's the only way to get him to back off. He seems to be mulling it over, and Roxanne is doing everything to hold him in gridlock. Rika makes her way toward them, fangs bared and claws ready to rend Roxanne to pieces. Great. She can't fend off the boy and his pet curse at the same time. This is a Satoru-level problem.
And then the pressure of cursed energy summarily ceases, and Roxanne takes a gasping breath. Yuta sheathes his blade and dismisses Rika.
"Thank you," Roxanne breathes. "Christ you're way stronger than when I last saw you."
Yuta gives a shy smile in response, but then straightens up.
"We should get out of the streets," he says. "I know of a safehouse nearby."
"Wait," Megumi says, "weren't you just trying to k—" Roxanne elbows him. She's just won them a break and a parlay, it's best not to question it further. Aside, she doesn't think Yuta is the type who sets traps. He's very much a killer like Satoru…and herself. Choso joins them, and they decide it's better for them all to follow Yuta. Aside from the fact that he can likely kill all of them easily, saving for perhaps if Sukuna decides to appear, it will be nice to get to a safehouse.
That, and Roxanne also lives in Toshino. She can swing by her apartment and pray her wards have held up.
"Wait," she says, thinking it over. Yuta looks toward her with apathetic expectancy, if one can accomplish such a thing. "I live in Toshino. And I need to check to make sure my wards are holding up. They should be fine but I also need to get Ichi."
"Who's Ichi?" Megumi asks.
"Her cat," Yuji murmurs and Megumi nods in understanding.
Yuta looks doubtful but Roxanne smiles. "Come on, it'll be quick: in and out. At worst, some of the wards are broken and maybe we get a few grade 3's or a grade 2. At best? It's probably the safest place in the city right now."
Yuta frowns. "I wish we could, but you see, there's the issue of the veils that have been brought down all throughout the region."
Roxanne blinks. What?
"What do you mean?" Roxanne asks. She gestures to the veil above them. "This ain't you?" When Yuta shakes his head she pinches the bridge of her nose. For fuck's sake…
Ichi is going to have to wait. He's a cat. He should be fine. Yeah, he should be just fine.
You should consider an automatic feeder for him.
Why Nanami insists on surfacing in her thoughts now has her quickly rubbing her eyes, feigning fatigue and exasperation.
"Alright, Okkatsu," she says with a worn out sigh. "You clearly know something, please enlighten us."
Yuta nods. "First, let's get to the safehouse. I'll explain everything there."
The safehouse, as it turns out, is not actually a designated jujutsu safehouse, but a highrise apartment building a good four kilometers away. With Yuta and Roxanne, dispatching curses is easy work, and they make an easy day of it, avoiding crowds and curses alike. When they reach the apartment, they're shocked to find a spacious penthouse, and there's still power.
"Still not convinced this isn't a trap," Roxanne mutters and Yuta smiles.
"It's not, but I wanted to make sure we were somewhere safe before I explained myself." Yuta responds. From the floor to ceiling windows, Roxanne can see parts of Tokyo have been plunged into darkness where the power grid has been destroyed or disrupted. She thinks of witnessing Sukuna's battle in Shibuya.
Nanami.
She breathes deep, tries to steady herself.
"We need to rest, first," she says. Yuta looks surprised, but looks over her and the rest, noting how worn down they all look.
"Of course," Yuta says, executing a polite bow. "Please, help yourselves. I'm sure our host won't mind."
Roxanne laughs. Considering most of the city's been evacuated, she can see the bitter humor in occupying someone's abandoned penthouse. The thought of a proper shower already has her searching. She can hear the murmurs of conversation and relieved sighs as their little squad takes their first reprieved breath in days.
The penthouse is lavish, and Roxanne is glad for the space as she sets down her heavy pack. She's packed a spare set of clothes she's managed to pluck out of several storefronts (after having an extensive argument about the morals of looting with Yuji). Roxanne's argument had been that she would do a lot of things to help fix this mess, but running around Tokyo in funky underwear would never be one of them. At that, Yuji relented, and in fact, the boys even joined her.
Nobody gives a shit about money in the middle of an apocalypse.
Roxanne strips down in the bathroom, and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. It's only been a week or so, but it feels like there's been such a shift since Shibuya. Everything from before that time feels like a dream, with Shibuya as a nightmarish bridge into a harsh and bleak reality.
It shows up in how much leaner she is, soft, feminine curves giving way to hard, lean muscle. Her hair is a mess as well, and she wants so badly to go to her apartment and pick up her hair products. She rummages around for shampoo and conditioner. She'll have to make do with whatever is available for now. Her eyes have shadows beneath them, looking hollow and sunken in. Even her lips are dry. She needs a full body polish, but her body just wants to drown in the tub. She rummages around, finds some expensive rose oil, and the last bathbomb.
"Thank fuck for something," she breathes. Then, she finds herself some towels and washcloths.
A soft, fond smile curves her mouth. She runs the washcloth under the faucet while her bath heats up. The bath bomb is a glitter one, the oil is fragrant, and Roxanne is for once, happy. She takes the washcloth, now sufficiently warm, and then steps into the bath, sinking in with a groan.
She places the washcloth over her eyes and leans back, letting herself drift into dreamless darkness.
"Tch, you've been running yourself ragged, little sorceress."
Roxanne gasps, snatching the washcloth from her eyes. She is in her domain, she can feel it, but so is…so is he.
She's also still in the bath, as the palm of her effigy's hand now holds a steaming pool of fragrant water. It cascades from the palm into the metaphysical darkness of her soul's boundary.
"Sukuna," she breathes. He's sitting across from her in the bath, his arms leisurely stretched across the mossy rocks, steam curling invitingly, almost possessively, around his tattooed face. Roxanne can't understand why he's here, and why now of all times.
"Don't you ever sleep?" She asks. The demon simply smirks at her.
"You called me here, as is your way. The Pact compels me to come to you." He says, and Roxanne takes undue pleasure in the annoyance in his voice. He wants so badly to hurt her, but the Pact forbids him. Good. If there is one person he literally can't harm and it bothers him, more's the better. Roxanne will exploit this Pact at every opportunity.
"I didn't call you so much as you wanted to be here, husband ," she says, making sure to emphasize his status, which annoys him further. She can see his hand moving to make that little gesture, the one that usually ends with someone losing a limb or their head. His hand…trembles once, and he lowers it. Roxanne grins impishly. So he really can't …
She moves closer, crossing the water. Sukuna's gaze sharpens, all four eyes focused on her with an intensity most would call hostile , but Roxanne doesn't care. She straddles his lap, and he allows it, and hates that something in the cavity of his chest is stirring to life. She is slick with oil, her umber skin glistening, and he keeps his face impassive, watching her to see what she will do. Her hands creep up from the water, along his tattooed chest.
He allows it.
"Is this what you called me here for?" He asks, even as her hands smooth over his shoulders, but he can't ignore how good it feels. He cannot wait to touch her in the flesh. See how bold she is when she must perform her duties as his wife in truth. He lets himself share a smile which he knows she mistakes for encouragement.
"No," Roxanne murmurs, "but you're here, now. And I've got questions, King of Curses."
Sukuna snorts. "Of course you do, little lotus flower. Your curiosity is as annoying as your teasing."
Roxanne rolls her eyes. Sukuna sighs.
"Ask your question, then."
Roxanne smiles. "In Shibuya…" She hesitates, tilting her head as if listening to a distant song. "You did something I've never even read about before."
Sukuna allows himself to touch her, running his nails up her arm, watching her body further mold to his, oil-slick breasts pressed to his chest, her nipples hard. He already knows what she wants to ask. Still, when she meets his gaze he can see no ulterior motive in them. Only a scholar's curiosity and fascination. He has seen it many times before, but it's different now.
Different because her curiosity and fascination remind him so much of himself.
"How did you call down flames?" She asks. "I thought sorcerers were only ascribed one school of techniques. But you…"
Sukuna smirks, leaning in to nuzzle the high curve of her cheekbone, traveling down to her ear to whisper,. "Do you want me to show you how to do it, little lotus flower? Do you think you can ?"
Roxanne feels dizzy. Something about his voice in her ear makes her shiver, and Sukuna pulls back and reaches down to grab her hands.
"You must make of the Self a vessel where the Self is not," he says. Roxanne watches as he takes her hands, shapes them into his signature mudra to activate his domain. It is the only clue he will give her. He'll see how clever his divine wife is in time.
"Alright," she says, clearly not understanding. Not yet, at least. "I will let you play cryptic for now but—"
"Don't bore me, wife," he warns. "I answered your question. But I don't think that's why you called me here."
Roxanne thinks of the last time they saw one another, remembers his cold and uncaring words. Do not look for succor here . But who else can she talk to right now? The red ichor around her heart squeezes tight, and she gasps when she feels Sukuna squeeze her hip in turn.
"Speak."
Roxanne thinks for a moment.
"There's veils that have been lowered over the region," she says. "I'm guessing the thing that is wearing the Geto skinsuit is behind them?"
Sukuna doesn't answer.
"I'm taking your silence as affirmation, by the way."
"As you will."
Roxanne lets out a low growl of frustration. His reticence is maddening. It's almost as if he's refusing to speak to avoid being drawn into potentially dangerous conversation. She must get him talking, see what he knows. But he is long in the tooth when it comes to such games, and she had to know this would be a long con.
"You want to kill me," she says. Sukuna raises his brows in surprise.
"I consider it, as my whim dictates. But right now? I want to taste you."
Roxanne feels heat flush all the way to the roots of her hair owing nothing to the steaming bath. She takes her hands from his and he loosens his grasp, allowing her freedom of movement. She cups his face in her hands. He lets her. She traces the tattooed lines on his face, watches his smaller set of eyes track her hands while his gaze remains on her.
Her hands settle on his throat. He doesn't show fear or budge. He wants to know how long she intends to explore him. She bites her lip on a grin when she feels his cock stirring between them. So the King of Curses is into body worship? Oh good to know.
She leans in, and he captures her mouth with his own, his hands smoothing up her back, dragging his nails over that flawless, satiny skin. For a woman whose fists do most of the talking, she is so ardently soft he wonders if she is tender between his teeth.
"Ryōmen," she whispers and his name sounds like something she's dragged between her thighs to be placed upon his tongue.
"That's me," he growls, biting her lush lower lip, indulging her. She's kept her word thus far, but he knows it won't be long until she wakes. He just wants to take over the brat's body for an hour.
At the sight of her breasts coming out of the water, he wants to take over the brat's body for at least a few hours. A day.
Indefinitely.
Sukuna is patient, and he watches her leave the bath, water dripping in warm, glittering worship down the lissome curves of her body. Sukuna takes her in with an appraising sweep of his gaze, even as she glances at him over her shoulder.
"I need rest," she says. Sukuna does not disagree, but she's roused the demon. He has already decided on how this evening will go.
"Do not expect to get it tonight."