October 31, 2018 17:45

Halloween is perhaps Roxanne's favorite holiday. No, it is her favorite holiday. Goth Christmas, and a chance for her to dress how extravagantly she wants to. It's also one of the busiest nights of the year for sorcerers. Humans leak more cursed energy during the holiday stretch than any other time of year. Loneliness, suicide, and other horrible vectors of cursed energy often requires the full might of the registered sorcerers in order to prevent outbreaks.

But at least she gets to do it while dressed as a slutty vampire queen.

The investigation in Kyoto converges with the one in Tokyo, and Roxanne finds herself at work with her fellow sorcerers instead of running around Shinjuku in devil horns and PVC, three tabs of acid deep.

"Wait, Mechamaru's the mole?" Roxanne asks in disbelief. "Aw man, I liked that dude."

"Right?" Gojo agrees. "In any case, Utahime, Itadori, and Kugasaki are closing in on his location. Once they secure him, they'll bring him in for questioning."

Roxanne frowns. "Wait…"

All eyes turn to her, curious.

"A hunch?" Gojo supplies with a knowing smile. Roxanne nods.

"Now, I don't know how acquainted y'all are with Western comic book literature but this Mechamaru kid gives major Dr. Doom vibes."

Everyone save Gojo looks ready to throw rotten fruit at her, but she holds up a hand.

"Hear me out," Roxanne continues. "I know it sounds silly but it can't sound any more ridiculous than us all being sorcerers fighting evil spirits." No one can gainsay that. Said aloud, their job descriptions sound like they should all be on heavy medications.

"So, Mechamaru is smart, right? What was it Utahime said? They didn't figure out it was him because he was being suspicious, they figured it out because he wasn't. Process of elimination. I don't think he's just chillin' at his lair waiting for us to bring him in."

"Hmm…" Gojo strokes his chin thoughtfully. "A red herring, then? It's possible, but I doubt he can go far. Wherever he's holed up, he needs to be within range to be of any use to our enemies."

"True," Roxanne agrees. "But if their search is fruitless, we have to keep trying. And something tells me that our enemies aren't the type to keep loose ends."

She can't see them, but she swears Gojo's eyes are narrowed. His smile fades a little.

"You think he's dead."

Roxanne hesitates. "I think we need to be prepared for the possibility that we might not get the information we seek."

The room is silent as they consider the implications. The sun is setting, disappearing behind the trees, staining the entire campus in shades of blood and fire. Somewhere, a bell chimes the hour. Roxanne glances down at her watch: 19:00. Ah, well, she can always try celebrating Halloween next year.

At 19:02, Gojo's phone rings, and he answers it. His expression changes, his distinct lack of his signature smile an indication that whatever news he's receiving is grave. He makes a few noises of affirmation, asks a few questions, and hangs up.

"Someone's lowered a veil in Shibuya," Gojo says. He tilts his head, his smile returning. "Roxy, you wanna go check it out? Let me know if my help is required. I think Nanamin is already on the way there."

Roxanne snorts. "Fine, but you better answer your damn phone."

"For you? Always. I can warp you there if you'd like?"

Roxanne gestures. "If you wouldn't mind."

They leave the room, Gojo placing a hand on the small of her back as he guides her out of the building and into the main courtyard.

"Your instincts are almost as sharp as my eyes, Roxy," Gojo murmurs. "Seems your comic book hunch was right: Mechamaru isn't where we thought he was. I need you and Nanamin to link with the students and see what's going on in Shibuya."

Roxanne nods. "You still don't trust the others," she surmises. Gojo turns his blindfolded face to her, grinning.

"At some point I might have to just kill all the Higher Ups just to save us the trouble of dealing with all their pointless politicking." He says the words as if he's simply discussing the weather, or planning a party. Roxanne feels her blood run cold. Very rarely, even in their most intimate moments, has she seen the side of Gojo that makes him feared. Incredible power, certainly, but there is a certain ruthlessness that comes with that level of might.

She does not respond to his declaration, and he does not give further context as to whether or not he's joking. Instead, he holds her close enough that she can smell the cologne he uses very sparingly. Without thinking, she wraps her arms around him.

"I knew you still cared," he says slyly, then laughs when she pinches his side. "Alright, little raven, hang on tight."

Warping is one of Gojo's abilities that he seldom uses, and she wagers it takes a lot of cursed energy to move at near lightspeed through the fabric of spacetime. She's read enough comics to know that much. Part of the technique involves passing through his domain of the Infinite Void. It's brief, but even just a brief exposure to it can paralyze even powerful special grade curses. His domain is simply that powerful.

Roxanne clings to him tightly, as she blinks and gets a glimpse of infinity . Because she is attached to Gojo, it does not melt her brain out of her ears, but the glimpse she gets is still stunning nonetheless. Is this what the inside of his soul is like?

And then Tokyo's glittering skyline is beneath them, sudden and jarring, and there is only the wind and the shimmering dome of the veil lowered over the entirety of Shibuya.

"Satoru?" Roxanne ventures but Gojo is studying the city below, his arm still secure around her waist. His phone goes off again and he picks up.

"Didn't realize I had so many fans," he laughs. "Alright, I'll check it out."

He sighs. "Roxy, would you like to accompany me?"

Roxanne stares at him, incredulous. It is very rare Gojo works with other sorcerers when he's not supervising his students. Whatever missions he undertakes are usually alone and of the utmost secrecy. For him to offer her a place to potentially fight at his side is not only surprising, it's exciting. It is a way to truly test the growth of her abilities over the last three months.

"Let's get the motherfucker," she says.

He is supposed to be alone.

They watch from the shadows, inwardly hissing as the cursed energy pressure of not one but two powerful sorcerers makes itself known. Jogo has faced Gojo before, and he barely escaped with his life. Had it not been for Hanami, he would be awaiting rebirth in hell.

He has never faced the other sorcerer, however, and that is a problem. Her power is great, a deep trench of cursed energy that licks around her like ghostly flames. She's not far off from being on par with Gojo. There is also something else, swirls of cursed energy that are not her own. Jogo's singular eye narrows in suspicion. Certainly this woman is not—

"Are you all hiding from me?" Gojo asks, a grin spreading from ear to ear. "That's sweet but I can still see you. And you won't have any excuse when I kick your ass this time."

Jogo can't help it: his pride as a cursed spirit is so easily prodded at, and he steps out of the shadows. He is no coward, nor will he offer excuses. If he is to lose, then he will do so standing on his own two feet.

"Is this Mount Fuji head-ass motherfucker the one who tried you that night?" The small, dark sorcerer asks. Jogo wants to light her head on fire, and the open mouth of his head smokes in warning. The smaller sorcerer bites her lip on a snorting laugh.

"Why can't curses ever just look–you know what? Let's get this over with," she claps her hands, and Jogo's eye widens at the sudden spike in cursed energy. Gojo cracks his knuckles, and Hanami's attack is immediate.

"Gladly," they say, before a tangle of sharp roots springs forward toward both sorcerers. Jogo moves as well, smirking as he takes Gojo by surprise, bypassing his Limitless with a well-placed punch. Still, Gojo is incredibly fast, and there is the dark sorceress to deal with, whose abilities aren't known to him. Mahito is the only one who has encountered her, and only briefly. According to him she's not as strong and thus not worth worrying about.

Well, she shows him why he should be worried soon enough.

Roxanne is frustrated.

There are simply too many civilians for her and Gojo to maneuver how they need to, and she focuses mainly on keeping Hanami and Jogo separated. Worse yet, they're using domain amplification to shield themselves, preventing her from touching them and warping their cursed energy for a full exorcism.

And the pressure from Gojo's Limitless is getting stronger—too strong for her to keep fighting if he decides to use it.

Gojo wrangles Jogo easily, blue eyes wild with malicious glee as he grips the curse's arm.

"Need a hand?" He asks and Roxanne has never heard him so deranged.

So happy.

Of course he's happy, this is what he was quite literally born to do. He has never been more in his element than right here, right now. And she has no choice but to accept that this is the path she must also follow.

Why do you limit yourself?

Gojo wrangles Hanami next.

"Got you," he hisses, his grin widening. He grips the branches that pass for the cursed spirit's eyes. "This is where you're weak, right?"

Roxanne watches him tear the branches out in a spray of cursed blood. None of it touches him. And all the while, his Limitless is getting stronger. She barely registers the wet sound of flesh tearing and a hiss. She shunts aside, hissing as something lances her shoulders, scoring a gash along her flesh.

The crimson ichor tightens around her heart, and the back of her neck prickles. Somewhere, four red eyes narrow in suspicion and fury.

Roxanne turns, spots the half-curse amidst the frozen civilians. She moves quickly, leaving the special grade curses to Gojo, while she goes after the Death Painting now given flesh. His face is emotionless, his eyes as dead as a doll's, but his focus is electric.

She winces inwardly as the searing line of weaponized blood tears through the woman she's hiding behind. She prays for forgiveness, before following the trail of cursed energy, trying to sacrifice as little life as possible.

"Flowing Red Scale…!"

Roxanne's hand comes around, palming what should have been the boy's ribcage, but is shocked when it comes against something hard and crystalline. She activates her technique, turning the cursed energy in on itself. The armor cracks, and then shatters beneath her pressure, and she grins, seeking his flesh.

Too late, the shards bury themselves in her torso, and she cries out, grunting in pain as she scrambles onto the train platform, seeking the high ground.

Her favorite leather jacket is ruined, and she frowns as she heals herself.

"You are so fucking anno—"

CRACK! BOOM!

There is a sudden drop in cursed energy that gives everyone pause. Steam and the stench of ozone permeate the air. Roxanne looks over and sees Gojo standing, unharmed and unsullied. Before him is a smoking splattered outline of what was once the special grade curse, Hanami.

Fucking Christ. Roxanne thinks with grim satisfaction. Gojo briefly meets her gaze and for a moment she thinks she might be next on his list of things to destroy, but she sees his brief smile, before he turns those terrible eyes on Jogo.

"Next." Not quite a snarl, but a promise that no matter what they do, he will tear them apart. And he will do so with enviable relish .

The tide of the battle shifts, then. With two special grade sorcerers and only one cursed spirit and a half-curse, Roxanne is certain they will ascertain victory shortly. Gojo hasn't even had to open his domain, which means he has plenty of cursed energy left to deal with Jogo.

And she can figure out how to turn this emo fuck into paste.

She cracks her knuckles, the flames of her cursed energy licking at every inch of her, her black lacquered nails sharper than normal. She grins with renewed vigor, and applies some pressure , feeling the blood curse hesitate. She's tasted his cursed energy, and traces his residuals easily. She knows what needs to be done.

Roxanne grounds her stands, balling her hands into fists, and focuses her senses, all of them, turning herself into a veritable and inevitable singularity. She grins in satisfaction as the blood sorcerer coughs up his own blood, which he promptly uses to shoot her, even as his spleen ruptures. She focuses again, taking hold of the cursed energy around his organs, turning it inward, disrupting its flow.

She barely sees Gojo's eyes flare up as Jogo's hand comes behind her, planted on her lower back. Pain beyond her own imagining is her only reward as her body goes up in flames. She sees Gojo's shocked and angry expression, and is barely aware of falling to her knees.

Flames obscure her vision, her flesh blisters and tears and melts away, and the smell of her own body cooking is strangely…appetizing. Like bacon frying in its own oils. She is paralyzed with pain, and even then she feels something—a malicious presence—turning its gaze upon her. Her soul is trying to claw its way free from her ruined body, but two pacts bind her to her sizzling bones.

And then, Roxanne dies.

"Hey, Satoru."

He looks back, because of course he does. In all the world—in all the heavens and earth—there is no one in the world that he will ever look back for. But for Geto Suguru, for his best friend and in some ways, his one true soulmate, he will always look. He will always hope.

But even knowing the lie—the trap—for what it is, he looks.

And that is his undoing.

"It's a shame about Abaza," Geto says, that all too pleasant smile plastered on his face. Gojo knows there's something off, but bound as he is now, he cannot be certain. Six Eyes tells him this is Suguru– his Suguru–but his soul burns because he buried his friend a year ago himself. He dug the grave himself. He hid the body and refused to let anyone see to it himself.

"She was so talented, but that's the price of being in proximity to the strongest, isn't it?" Geto tilts his head in a way Gojo remembers too often when he is stuck with little to do but face down his own thoughts.

"A gruesome end and an unmarked grave. Tch. And to think you considered courting her."

Gojo glares up at him, the Prison Realm bound tight around his body.

"Who the fuck are you?" He demands in a cold and dangerous voice, as if even now, in the midst of a checkmate, he is still capable of being very dangerous. Geto grins at him, and his face seems to warp, almost mechanical, as if there is something forcing the expression. He reaches up, fingers brushing his forehead and pulls the stitches that look so much like a crown of thorns on his skin. With a sickening wet sound he removes the top of his own head, revealing the slick and pulsating brain with its own teeth, grinning in malicious triumph.

"Those Eyes of yours are freaky," Geto-who-is-not-Geto says, "but I'm not so foolish as to tip my hand even in the hour of victory. No, Gojo Satoru, the only thing you need to know is that you are beaten. It's strange, but had you disposed of this body properly after you killed him, we might not be here in this glorious moment."

Pseudo-Geto places a hand over his heart, executing a polite bow.

"My gratitude, Honored One," he says, replacing the top of his scalp and tightening the stitches. Around them, all are frozen as a result of Gojo's desperate Hail Mary of using his domain. Admittedly, that is the only reason Pseudo-Geto has made his appearance. Those foolish cursed spirits almost cost him the game.

"How long are you going to let him use you, Suguru?"

Gojo's voice is quiet, intimately so, filled with a rage and grief that is utterly unfathomable. A grief that has feasted on the bones of his humanity for a full year. Pseudo-Geto stares down at him, cold and pitiless as a blind judge. The fingers in his right hand twitch, and his brow furrows, puzzled, before that hand twitches again, quick as a snake strike, fingers wrapped around his own throat.

He lets out a choked sound of shock, and then a surprised laugh.

Gojo watches, Six Eyes reading everything. He knows Suguru is dead, knows it deep within his heart, but now he knows that parts of his soul still live in the body. He already has a plan formulating, and he knows this is not the end. Killing him is near impossible, so sealing him is the only way. He will bide his time. Infinity is forever, after all.

Mahito emerges from his stunned state, tacitly curious about the development. He looks at Gojo once, uncaring and unfeeling. He knows he should fear the sorcerer, but this is victory and so he doesn't.

"Get on with it, already," Gojo snarls, interrupting their stupid philosophizing about the nature of the soul and the body. He wonders why they couldn't take that shit to a local temple and stop being destructive nuisances, but it doesn't matter.

One way or the other, they are dying. By his hand, or by any of the sorcerers he has conditioned to take on these types for just this sort of contingency.

"Prison Realm: Gate Close."

The last thing Gojo sees is his Suguru smiling at him as the seal locks him in.

Meiji-Jingumae Station is deathly quiet in the wake of the multi-pronged attack, but all of the world seems to draw in a gasping breath when the news breaks: Satoru Gojo has been sealed.

Everyone feels it: the smoldering, glittering presence that is the Honored One has been snuffed out, sealed away. The jujutsu world is changed once again, and Nanami looks up, hearing Yuji's voice calling out across the frightening silence of Shibuya.

Sealed? He thinks, and with dawning horror remembers that Roxanne accompanied Gojo. He steels himself and processes the facts. React to reality only. He cannot afford to think about that horrifying possibility right now. That the woman he loves most in this world might be–

He needs to focus, and his team is counting on him. Roxanne is counting on him.

"Change of plans," he says to Megumi and Tokama. "We rally with Itadori, now ."

He explains on the way why Gojo's sealing is an emergency. Nanami isn't old enough to remember, as he has no sorcerers in his family, but coming to Jujutsu High he heard the stories of Gojo Satoru, and the almost mythic story surrounding his birth.

Before Gojo Satoru was born, it was a lot more difficult to operate a jujutsu sorcerer. The sheer amount of curse users and the curses born from that imbalance was simply too much, and too few awakened to their powers and aligned with what Nanami considers to be the obvious choice in this world: they exist to exorcize curses and protect the world from the damage of humanity's own heart.

But after Gojo Satoru's birth, things changed. Whispers at first, like sparks, but as the boy grew, so too did his power, and the whispers caught from spark to flame. The entire jujutsu world forever changed: the Six Eyes was back in play. Nanami tries not to get too existential, but he believes that Roxanne's hunch is more premonition. All these powers converging at this time are not mere coincidences.

In their world, there is no such thing.