Shiki POV

It had been a week since my promotion. Nothing much had changed since then. I still wore my usual kimono as I made my way to the dojo, a quiet routine that remained untouched by the new title.

Standing in front of the dojo was a familiar figure—Maki. She glanced up as I approached, a casual smirk on her face.

"You're early," she said, adjusting her glasses. "Not like you to be so eager."

I shrugged slightly, "Just keeping to my routine."

"Guess you're not gonna let that 'Special Grade' title get to your head, huh?"

"Doesn't really change anything."

She chuckled softly, pushing herself off the wall. "Good to hear. Would've been boring if you got all stuck-up after that."

She had been seeking me out for sparring sessions ever since the mission. At first, I thought it was a phase, but it became clear that she was determined to challenge herself. Gojo once commented that we seemed close. I hadn't thought much of it, but looking at Maki now, there was something relaxed about her presence. She wasn't as tense or guarded as she used to be around me.

"Ready for another round?" Maki asked with a small grin as she adjusted her glasses, her eyes sharp.

I nodded. "If you are."

We stepped into the dojo, and I could feel Maki's focus shift. She had improved since the last sparring session; that much was obvious.

After a moment of silence, Maki looked at me with a thoughtful expression.

"I've been thinking," she began, "maybe we should up the difficulty today. What do you say? Push things a little further."

Fine by me," I replied calmly "Let's see how far you can keep up."

Maki's grin widened. "Don't worry, I'll give you a run for your money this time."

Instead of using the usual wooden weapons, we opted for our personal gear. I had expected nothing less from Maki—she came prepared, already pulling out her naginata from the weapon bag. The long polearm gleamed under the light, its shaft decorated with fur just below the spearhead.

I drew my own sword, a jet-black blade with no visible scratches despite how rough i treated it. For something I had found in a pawnshop, it was strangely perfect in everyway. Gojo had already told me it was a cursed tool, though it had no special abilities besides its insane durability, and that suited me just fine.

We stepped into the center of the dojo.

Then, without warning, Maki lunged forward.

PANG

Her movements were fast, Her naginata cut through the air and the edge of the spearhead coming dangerously close to my throat. I parried the blow just in time, the sound of metal on metal ringing through the dojo.

An ordinary sorcerer would've been dead by now, decapitated within seconds. Maki's speed was overwhelming, and her ability to visualize the best course of action was clear in her attacks.

Each movement was sharp and methodical, no wasted effort. She followed up with a quick spin, the blade of her naginata arcing toward my side.

I managed to step out of the way, countering with a slash of my own. My heightened senses were the only thing keeping me alive in this duel. I could feel every shift in her stance, every adjustment she made before her next attack.

There was no hesitation in her strikes, no second-guessing.

But that was it.

"Killing path"

Maki's newfound ability to see the path ahead was dangerous, no doubt. But the physical gap between us was still too wide. No matter how perfect her movements were, how fluidly she moved through those paths, she couldn't break through my defense.

Block or avoid.

Attack or parry.

Each time her naginata aimed for an opening, I was already there, ready to counter or deflect her next strike.

And just like Maki, I could see something she couldn't—but it was different. After reflecting on it, we both concluded that her new perception wasn't the same as what I saw, nor was it like Gojo's. It was something born from within her.

This was her instinct made visible.

It was entirely different from my eyes.

Where my eyes revealed the lines that represented death—an inevitable end already written into the fabric of things—Maki's eyes revealed the path to deliver that death. She saw the steps leading to an optimal strike, the perfect path to take a life.

My eyes showed the end. Hers guided her toward it.

The duel was fierce, her movements sharper than before, her attacks calculated, each one perfectly placed along those visible paths.

Swing.

Cut.

Block.

I could read her attacks as if they were laid out before me, like an open book. Her instincts were leading her to the best possible outcome, but it wasn't enough.

Even so, Maki didn't look discouraged. In fact, her eyes burned with determination. She was getting stronger, and she knew it.

Then, with one swift movement, I ended it. My sword struck cleanly, a blur of motion too fast for her to react. The impact hit her in the ribs, sending her skidding back across the dojo floor, her body landing with a hard thud.

Maki lay still for a moment, the echo of the impact fading. Then, with a low groan, she pushed herself up, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Damn," she muttered, brushing the dust off her shoulder, her breath still heavy from the fight. "You don't hold back, do you?"

"You wanted me to up the difficulty, remember?"

Maki laughed lightly, wincing as she pressed her hand to her ribs. "Yeah, yeah, I asked for it. almost had you that time."

"Almost," I replied, knowing full well the gap between us still remained. But her progress was undeniable. Every time we sparred, she was quicker, sharper, more precise.

Maki stretched her arms, letting out a small grunt. "I'll get you one of these days, Shiki. Just wait."

I didn't respond, though a small part of me respected her resolve. Her drive reminded me of something distant, something I couldn't quite grasp anymore.

Just as we were catching our breath, the dojo doors slid open with a sudden bang. Gojo stepped inside, his trademark grin plastered on his face. "Well, well. What do we have here? Sparring without inviting me?"

His eyes flickered between us, taking in the scene—Maki catching her breath and me standing still with my sword in hand.

Maki rolled her eyes. "If you were in the fight, there wouldn't be a dojo left to spar in."

"Fair point." Gojo laughed, walking closer.

"Shiki, mind if I steal you for a second? Got something important to discuss."

As I followed Gojo out of the dojo, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He was unusually quiet, which was a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor. It reminded me of the time when I tried to attack him, my fist halted inches from his body, unable to close the distance. His cursed technique was as formidable as ever.

'Hmmm?'

A flicker of movement caught my eye. I noticed faint lines around Gojo, not on him, but shifting erratically in the space around him. They seemed almost alive, moving in a random pattern.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I reached out a hand to touch one of the lines. Just as my fingers were about to make contact, Gojo's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with surprising speed.

"What are you doing?" His voice was calm, but there was a hint of warning.

I wasn't scared, just surprised. Did he have eyes behind his head? Even with that blindfold, he sensed something most wouldn't.

"Did you do something with those eyes of yours?" he asked, curious.

For a brief moment, I saw it—lines around his body, ever-shifting, not static like most. They flickered, almost imperceptibly, as if they were constantly adjusting themselves to something I couldn't see. like staring at a barrier that couldn't be breached.

Gojo made a low humming sound, clearly intrigued. "You know, I usually don't pry. People and their secrets don't interest me. But… Curiosity got the better of me this time. Have you uncovered something new about your eyes?" His lips curled into a grin beneath his blindfold

The way he spoke, so casually aware of things others could never comprehend, made him sound like a creep sometimes. How did he catch onto things so quickly?

I glanced back at him, deciding there was no point in hiding it.

"Remember how I said I could see countless lines on everything?" I began, watching Gojo closely. "I've come to understand that it's not just weakness that I see in these lines."

His head tilted slightly, showing more interest. "Go on."

"The lines... they represent something more than just weakness. They represent the concept of death. Everything has a point where it can be severed. It's not just a vulnerability but an end. I see the death of things—the finality of their existence. That's what the lines are."

During this past week, I spent more time contemplating my eyes. I recalled my time in that void of nothingness, floating without purpose or meaning. After waking from it, I began to see the lines—death on everything. It was as though that event had changed me, giving me this sight.

When things die, whether it's people, animals, or even inanimate objects, they cease to function. They return to nothingness.

Is that what that void is? The end? Or the beginning?

I know the contact with that place had changed something fundamental within me. A change I couldn't fully explain, but one that left me with this ability to see death in everything.

Gojo's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face as he straightened up. "Oh-ho! So, you can literally see the end of things? The point where they just cease to exist? That's incredible!"

He clapped his hands together, his energy suddenly infectious. "I knew I was a great teacher, but this? This is next-level stuff! I must've really unlocked your potential, huh? I mean, it's not every day someone can take out one of Sukuna's fingers! You're practically a prodigy, thanks to my training, of course."

Gojo puffed out his chest even more, clearly pleased with himself. "Not bad, Shiki. Not bad at all. Maybe I should start writing a book on how to raise elite sorcerers."

I blinked, a slight frown tugging at my lips. "Shiki? Since when did you start calling me by my given name?"

"What's the problem? In fact, I should've been calling you Shiki from the beginning! Not only am I an amazing teacher, but I'm basically your guardian, right?" Gojo waved his hand dismissively, still grinning.

"I don't recall agreeing to any of that."

"Oh, come on, We're a team now. Mentor and student. And besides, isn't it more personal to be on a first-name basis? It shows how much I care." Gojo teased, putting on an exaggerated pout. "

"If by 'care,' you mean you're just trying to annoy me, then sure."

Gojo chuckled, leaning back as if he'd won some kind of unspoken battle. "You'll warm up to it, trust me. Everyone does."

Before I could retort, Gojo's expression shifted, becoming a little more serious. "Anyway, back to business. You've heard the name Sukuna, right?"

I nodded slowly. "Nanami mentioned it, but I don't know who—or what—that is."

Gojo clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slightly as he began to explain. "Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. He's a powerful, ancient sorcerer who became a cursed spirit after death. His power was so immense that even after being defeated, his body couldn't be destroyed completely. Instead, it was split into twenty fingers, each one sealed and hidden away as a special-grade cursed object."

He paused, glancing at me. "You remember that finger you destroyed, right?"

"Yes." I nodded again, recalling the strange object that had turned to dust after I killed the special grade cursed spirit.

Gojo chuckled to himself. "Which means, thanks to you, we're down one indestructible cursed object. Not bad, huh?"

I thought back to the promotion. If Gojo knows about the finger, then the higher-ups must've heard about it too. It made sense now. That's probably the reason they pushed me straight to Special Grade instead of just promoting me to Grade 1. They see me as more of an asset now... something they can use.

I glanced at Gojo, feeling a question rise. "Is this place we're about to go connected to Sukuna's fingers?"

"Catching on quick, huh? yeah, I want to see if you can destroy another one of those fingers." Gojo grinned, clearly impressed

That makes sense, If I could destroy one finger, it stands to reason they'd want to see if I could do it again. Figures.

After what felt like hours, the car finally pulled off the main road onto a narrow, dirt path that wound its way through a forest. Trees loomed overhead, their branches creating a canopy of shadows as we traveled deeper into the woods.

Eventually, we came to a stop in front of a small, unassuming shrine nestled at the base of a hill. It was old, almost forgotten, overgrown with moss and vines. The wooden structure was barely big enough for one person to kneel inside.

Gojo stepped out of the car, gesturing for me to follow. We approached the shrine, and he crouched down, opening its small door with a casual flick of his wrist. Inside, there it was—a familiar sight, wrapped in talismans. The exact same object from the picture Nanami had shown me.

Gojo unwrapped it carefully, and there, lying in the center, was a dried, mummified finger—just like the one I'd destroyed before.

He held it up slightly. Then, with a curious gleam in his eyes, he looked at me.

"Well, Shiki," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "You think you can destroy this one too?"

I looked at the mummified finger in Gojo's hand. It looked as eerie as the last one, but there was something different this time.

There were no lines of death.

One thing I've learned about my eyes is that there are conditions for me to see the lines of death. They don't just appear on everything.

I'm able to perceive death in almost anything—whether it's human, an object, or even a dead person—but only if I consider that thing "alive" in some sense. It's not about whether it has a heartbeat or biological life. It's more abstract than that.

If something is moving, it's alive.

If it still has a function, it's alive.

A telephone that works, for example, is alive to me because it isn't broken yet. But once it's broken, once it loses that function, I'll see it as dead, and the lines will also dissappear.

That's why, when I look at Sukuna's finger, I can't perceive its death. Even though it's considered a cursed object and still holds power, to my eyes, it's already dead. The cursed energy is like a fragment of Sukuna's power, but the finger itself has no "life" in the way I perceive it. No movement. No function. It's just an object with no death to give.

That's why I can't destroy it, even with these eyes.

I glanced at Gojo. "There's no lines," I said flatly.

"No lines, huh?" Gojo glanced at the finger, then back at me, a hint of curiosity flashing in his eyes.

He let out a small sigh, tossing the finger back into the shrine with a flick of his wrist. "Too bad. I was curious if you'd be able to pull it off." He closed the shrine door with a careless shrug, as if the whole thing didn't really matter.

After a while, Gojo broke the silence again. "Y'know, for someone who sees death, you're pretty good at surviving."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just means I might've trained you better than I thought." He just grinned.

"Ah, don't be so modest!" Gojo's grin widened. "You wouldn't even be half as strong without my impeccable teaching skills."

I ignored his self-congratulation, staring ahead as we approached the outskirts of Jujutsu High. Just when I thought the conversation was over, Gojo spoke again, his voice more casual this time. "By the way, we're getting some new first-year students soon. Think you'll like him?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would I care?"

Gojo chuckled. "You might find this interesting. After all, you were once a first-year too, weren't you?"

I didn't answer. His teasing was nothing new, but something about the way he said it made me wonder if he was up to something again.

"This new kid might be someone you'll have to look out for. You're moving up the ranks so fast, you're basically a senpai now. You should take him under your wing."

I stared at him, unamused. "You're joking."

"Why not?" He shrugged, all casual. "You're a special grade now. That makes you a big deal. And besides, you've got the whole 'mysterious, brooding mentor' thing down. He might look up to you."

I scoffed. "That's not happening."

"We'll see." Gojo gave me a sly smile.

I kept ignoring him, not bothering to respond to his teasing. The idea of being responsible for anyone, especially a first-year, seemed ridiculous. I barely had control of my own situation, let alone someone else's.

But knowing Gojo, this wouldn't be the last time he brought it up.

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? POV

I stood at the entrance of Jujutsu High, staring at the gates that towered over me. Gojo had suggested this, but I still wasn't sure if it was the right decision.

Tsumiki's face flashed through my mind. Her smile. That was reason enough, wasn't it?

"If this can make Tsumiki live more happily…"

With that thought, I stepped through the gates. The school grounds were huge, much larger than I expected.

As I walked further into the school grounds, I took in the vastness of it. I couldn't help but wonder if this was really the place for me. Part of me felt ready for it. The other part… wasn't so sure.

I thought back to Tsumiki again. Her gentle voice, always telling me to be careful, to look out for myself. This was for her. If getting stronger here meant I could protect her, then I had no choice but to stay.

The path up to the tallest building wasn't hard to find. Gojo's usual carefree tone echoed in my head—something about a "new sister figure." I didn't believe it for a second. He was always joking, saying things just to mess with me.

But if there was even a hint of truth in it... I wondered what kind of person she could be. I wasn't exactly looking for more people in my life. Still, if she had any connection to Gojo, she was bound to be strange.

I walked up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. I wasn't here to make friends, but if this person could help me grow stronger—strong enough to protect Tsumiki—then I had no choice but to meet them.

The door at the top of the stairs creaked as I pushed it open, revealing a vast, empty training hall bathed in quiet light.

Inside, Gojo was standing, his usual carefree expression intact. But what caught my attention wasn't him—it was the girl beside him. She wore a traditional yukata, White as day, and stood perfectly still, almost like a shadow. Even without moving, her presence filled the room.

Her eyes flicked over to me, cold and piercing. It wasn't like she was just looking at me; it felt as if she could see straight through me—or maybe even deeper than that, as if she could see something in me I didn't even know about.

Her gaze lingered for a moment, then she turned away like I wasn't worth noticing.

That's supposed to be the "sister figure" Gojo mentioned? For a brief second, a chill crept down my spine.

Gojo broke the silence, his voice annoyingly chipper as always. "Megumi! Glad you could make it." He waved me over with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Come on, don't be shy. I want you to meet someone special."

I hesitated, but stepped forward, keeping my eyes on the girl as I approached. She hadn't moved since I walked in.

"This," Gojo gestured between us, "is Ryougi Shiki. Shiki, this is Fushiguro Megumi, one of the most promising first-years."

Her eyes barely flickered my way. Gojo grinned wider, clearly enjoying the tension. "I figured you two should meet. Who knows, maybe you'll learn a thing or two from each other."

And that was my first meeting with Ryougi Shiki.

[END]

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That's it for the chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

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