Third Person POV
Shoko sighed, crossing her arms as she took in the state Shiki was in.
"What did you do again...?" she muttered, her tone exasperated.
Shiki, unfazed, simply gave a nonchalant shrug, brushing off some dust from her clothes as if that was the only thing wrong. Her leg was still twisted, dried blood dotted her cheek, and her clothes were barely holding together, yet her expression was as calm as if she'd just returned from a morning stroll.
Shoko shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"You look like you picked a fight with a blender. Twice."
"It wasn't that bad,"
Shoko rolled her eyes, gesturing to the nearest chair. "Sit down.
Finally, Shiki sighed and dropped into the chair, stretching out her twisted leg. Shoko knelt down, inspecting the injury.
"So, did you decide to go head-to-head with a cursed spirit without your sword this time?" Shoko asked dryly, while using her reversed cursed technique to fix her leg.
"It got away," she muttered, clearly frustrated.
"You don't say. And here I thought you won by the looks of you." Shoko raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly.
"I would've if that annoying person hadn't gotten in the way,"
"Annoying person?"
"A girl with a twisting ability," Shiki said, her tone as nonchalant as if she were discussing the weather.
"Who? Guess she made an impression."
Shiki looked away, an annoyed look flashing across her face. "Impression? No. She just interfered, and I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
"Sure, sure," she muttered lazily, brushing off Shiki's words without so much as a glance.
Just then, the door slid open, and in strode Gojo, his presence as bold and unmissable as ever. He leaned casually against the doorframe. a bright grin spreading across his face as he took in Shiki's battered state.
"Yo, Shiki! Looks like you've been through a paper shredder," he quipped, striding over. "What'd you do this time?"
Shiki shot him a sidelong glare. "I was fine."
Shoko blew out a lazy cloud of smoke, giving Gojo a bemused look.
"She's all patched up. Not that she seems to care."
Gojo, ever the one to needle, grinned wider. "You know, Shiki, one of these days, I'll actually see you return from a mission without looking like you've been through a blender."
"And one of these days, you might actually be useful instead of just talking."
"Good thing I'm here for moral support, then."
"Well, she's all yours" Shoko rolled her eyes and gestured toward the door.
Gojo waved her off and turned to Shiki, tilting his head toward the exit. "Shall we?"
Without a word, Shiki stood and followed him out. The night air hit them, brisk but refreshingly cool—a welcome change from the biting cold of earlier.
As they made their way toward the car, Gojo couldn't resist another jab. "You know, for someone who always claims she's 'fine,' you've got a funny way of showing it."
Shiki didn't respond, but her gaze drifted to the car. Gojo was holding the keys. Normally, Ichiji or Nitta would be the ones behind the wheel. Realizing it'd be Gojo driving, her mood took another nosedive.
The journey was unexpectedly calm, with only occasional bickering that, for once, didn't erupt into the usual chaos.
After a while, Gojo broke the silence. "Oh, you haven't met the new student yet, have you?"
Shiki's gaze shifted slightly.
Now that he mentioned it, she recalled hearing about a new student joining, a girl. If she remembered correctly, today marked the first mission for both Itadori and the new girl.
Sometimes, she wondered what compelled anyone to willingly step into this twisted world. For her, there was no choice—she was already too far in, and with her eyes, a "normal life" wasn't even an option.
"Kugisaki Nobara, right?" she replied flatly.
Gojo grinned, genuinely surprised. "Oh? You remembered? I only told you her name in passing—didn't expect it to stick."
Shiki shrugged. It was a name worth remembering. Only a fool would willingly take a step into this world, and that alone made the girl intriguing. She could only hope Nobara wasn't timid like Yuta had been, at least at first.
"Interesting people are rare," Shiki muttered, half to herself.
Gojo chuckled. "Then you'll love Nobara—she's anything but boring."
Shiki gave a dismissive shrug.
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As night turned to day, Shiki found herself alone with her thoughts and about the last night's incident lingering in her mind.
Shiki had done her best to describe the cursed spirit's appearance to Gojo—it had been intriguing, to say the least.
This spirit looked entirely human, though with an unnatural paleness that gave it an otherworldly air. Cursed spirits with human appearances weren't unheard of, but they were far from common. She'd also detailed what she knew about its cursed technique: the ability to create ice and freeze entire areas.
Then there was the matter of Asagami Fujino.
Her appearance had been unexpected. Shiki had assumed that after Geto's defeat, his remaining followers would either flee the country or lie low. Yet Fujino moved freely, as if she had nothing to fear.
Remembering the events of last night filled Shiki with a frustration. She needed to clear her mind.
Swing
Slash
The sharp, crisp sound of Shiki's sword slicing through the air echoed throughout the dojo.
Just then, the door slid open, revealing Itadori and Megumi, both in tracksuits, clearly here for some early morning light training.
Megumi froze.
Not because he was surprised to find Shiki training—this dojo was practically her second home; she probably spent more time here than in her dorm. But what really stopped him in his tracks was the look on her face.
It was a familiar feeling.
She stood there, gripping her sword, her gaze sharp and simmering with frustration. Her stare landed directly on them, unblinking, like a predator assessing its prey.
Megumi's mind raced.
'She's frustrated.' He swallowed, feeling a bead of sweat roll down his temple.
'This is bad.'
His survival instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs were frozen in place.
'Oh no… she's not just frustrated, she's furious.'
He darted a look at Itadori beside him, hoping his friend would understand the life-or-death situation they'd just stumbled into.
But Itadori, entirely oblivious, waved at Shiki with a big grin. "Shiki-senpai! How's training going?"
'Too late.'
In that moment, he swore he saw Shiki's grip tighten around her sword as her eyes narrowed. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before—
Before he could think, Megumi turned, grabbed Itadori by the collar, and yanked him backward, practically dragging him toward the door. "Sorry, Shiki-senpai, we'll come back later!" he blurted, desperation in his voice.
Itadori blinked, confused. "Wait, why? We just got here—"
Megumi hissed under his breath, "Trust me. If you value your life, don't ask questions."
Before they could take another step, Shiki was already there, her grip like iron as she seized both of them by the collar.
Megumi gulped, his earlier attempt to escape thoroughly crushed.
'This is it. We're doomed.'
Shiki's gaze bore into them, her frustration radiating like a storm waiting to break. Coincidentally, she was in need of a sparring partner—or, in her mind, two human punching bags. After all, studies showed that physical exertion could relieve stress and tension. And how fortunate that two prime candidates had wandered in.
"What a coincidence, isn't it, Megumi? Since both of you are here, why don't we train together?"
Shiki's voice was dangerously smooth.
Megumi's stomach dropped, his only response a loud, involuntary gulp. He could practically feel the temperature plummet.
Beside him, Itadori, ever oblivious to danger, grinned brightly. "Yeah! I actually thought we'd spar! You look like you've got some serious energy today, Shiki-senpai!"
Megumi's eye twitched as he desperately tried to signal anything to his friend.
Shiki's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile, and she cracked her knuckles with a deliberate, ominous pop. "Spar, huh?" Her tone was almost too calm. "I suppose I could use a warm-up."
Megumi mentally prepared his will. Itadori, still smiling, gave him a thumbs-up.
If I survive this, I'm going to kill him myself.
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Fushiguro Megumi POV
It hurts.
It hurts everywhere.
I think I've got a broken bone… or maybe a few. But it's hard to tell which parts of me are intact and which parts need medical attention. All I know is there's pain. Lots of pain.
And there's no mercy.
Shiki-senpai's strikes are relentless, each one feels like I was hit by a battering hammer. I can't even muster a complaint because if I open my mouth, I'll probably be tasting floor tile. My pride? Oh, that's somewhere under her foot. I lost track of it a few rounds ago.
I dart a glance over at Itadori, who's somehow still bouncing on his feet—though by the look on his face, it seems he's starting to regret the choice that led him here.
Shiki-senpai, unfazed, offers him a few pointers, maybe to lift his spirits. Or maybe it's just nonsense meant to drag him deeper into the ring of torment. Hard to say with her. Either way, I'm starting to consider disowning him as my friend. It's for his own good… and mine.
"C'mon, I'm barely breaking a sweat."
Barely breaking a sweat? I stare in disbelief. My whole body's about to break, and she hasn't even warmed up?
It hurts.
I can feel Shiki-senpai gaze shift back to me, her expression a strange mix of calm and eerie satisfaction. There's a glint in her eyes that tells me she's just getting started.
Wonderful.
Maybe… if I play dead, she'll stop? I let my arms go limp, letting out the most convincing wheeze I can muster.
But Shiki raises a brow, unimpressed.
"Nice try, Megumi. We're not done until you can walk out of here on your own two feet."
Of course not.
Only after hours of grueling, relentless sparring did we finally escape from her merciless grip.
Honestly, I've felt closer to death training with Shiki-senpai than I ever have with any actual cursed spirit. It's not a matter of if anymore, but when my time will come at her hands.
She'd left a while ago, leaving us here in a barely conscious state, like some sinister rite of passage.
That goddamn evil witch.
'Please let her live long, but not too healthy.'
I prayed sincerly for the first time in my life. Please let her get sick often enough in her long life with minor illness. She wouldn't be able to work properly if she was bedridden, so please do it moderately.
Something like back pain or stuffy nose every autumn would be enough. That was all he was asking for.
'If only she wasnt' a special grade...'
"Ughhh..." groaned Itadori beside me, sounding half-dead.
Honestly, seeing him like that, I felt a bit sorry for him. With his insane stamina and endurance, he probably took even more hits than I did—Shiki-senpai went twice as hard on him because he could take it.
At least I wasn't suffering alone.
In this entire school, there isn't a single person who could overpower Shiki-senpai in a straight-up physical contest. Even Maki-senpai, who makes up for it with her impressive weapon mastery and coordination, can't quite match her raw strength and terrifying stamina.
Honestly, if all the first and second years teamed up against her—everyone except Maki, that is—it would still end in a one-sided beatdown. That's how much of a monster she is.
I groaned, trying to shift into a less painful position, and Itadori grumbled beside me.
"It's all your fault," I muttered, casting a sideways glare at him.
"My fault?!" he huffed, offended. "You didn't have to stick around, y'know!"
"I was stuck because of you,"
Just then, the door swung open with a sudden clatter. My heart leapt into my throat, half-expecting Shiki-senpai to come striding back in for round two.
But instead, it was... Kugisaki.
"What happened to you two? You look like you barely survived a landslide."
Kugisaki Nobara was hard to miss, with her bright auburn hair cut short and neatly framing her face.
She was outspoken, maybe too much so, but she backed it up with skill. She's not someone who scared easily—if anything, she seemed more amused than concerned about us lying here half-dead.
I sighed, casting a tired glance at Itadori, who looked no better off than I did. "You could say that. We were 'training' with Shiki-senpai."
"Shiki-senpai?"
Ah, right. Nobara hadn't met any of the second-years yet. Technically speaking, Shiki-senpai was the only one around; the others were off on their own missions.
As a special grade, Shiki-senpai didn't just take any mission, and she had more freedom than most sorcerers. Unfortunately for the higher-ups, she shared Gojo-sensei's... attitude toward authority—only worse. Gojo might be nonchalant, but he at least took some responsibility as a special grade. Shiki-senpai, though? She really didn't care what happened.
Rules? Boundaries? She treated them like inconsequential details. And with her disdain for authority, any attempt to rein her in only ended in frustration for everyone but her.
Which is exactly why its unfortunate that only Gojo could manage her behavior.
For the rest of us, we'd learned early on that the best strategy was to stay out of her way.
"She sounds… intense."
"That's putting it lightly," I muttered, rubbing my shoulder where Shiki-senpai's 'training' had left a nice, deep ache. "She's like a force of nature with no off switch."
"Yeah, 'intense' is about right."
Itadori chuckled beside me, though his laugh had a twinge of weariness.
"I want to meet this Shiki person," Kugisaki declared, her excitement almost infectious.
I could only respond with a long, exasperated sigh. Kugisaki was energetic, sure, and maybe too much of a social creature in the wrong way, but what if—by some impossible chance—her relentless personality actually rubbed off on Shiki-senpai? Not like that would ever happen, though.
Even Gojo-sensei, the pinnacle of confidence and unpredictability, didn't leave a dent on her stoic demeanor.
Still, the thought lingered uneasily in my mind. If Kugisaki somehow managed to influence her, would it be a good thing… or a complete disaster?
In any case, I could only hope that nothing terrible came of this strange curiosity.
.
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As they say, even if there's no physical wound, the mental scars remain.
It's barely been two days since Shiki-senpai decided we'd make perfect punching bags, and now we're expected to be ready for a mission. At this rate, I might start calling her "Witch" behind her back.
"You ready for this?" Itadori asks, grinning.
I glance over at Itadori, who looks oddly cheerful despite the trauma we endured. How he can be so positive, I'll never understand. I'm half-convinced he's developed a masochistic streak—or he's in total denial about what happened. Honestly, maybe a little of both.
Right now, we're waiting on Kugisaki. She'll be joining us any minute, and the fact that all the first-years were called out means the situation's serious.
Not to mention, all the second-years are away on other missions. Even Shiki-senpai has disappeared somewhere. It's… not exactly reassuring.
I sigh, feeling a twinge of dread creeping in. The last thing I want is to run into a curse while my body's still aching from that so-called "training." With the way things are going.
Just the thought is enough to make my legs hurt all over again.
As I'm lost in my thoughts, Kugisaki finally arrives, looking as fresh and relaxed as if she'd just strolled out of a spa. She takes one look at us and raises an eyebrow.
"What's with you two? Did you guys get sick or what?"
"Nah, we're good!" Itadori shoots her a grin, patting his fists together in some attempt at bravado.
With a final glance at each other, we head out together.
We arrived at the location faster than expected, thanks to the driver's willingness to push a few limits. As we stepped out of the car, Ichiji approached us with his calm demeanor.
As an assistant manager for Jujutsu High, Kiyotaka Ichiji was the epitome of professionalism—a highly responsible and level-headed individual who took his job seriously. His confidence and ability to stay composed, even in dangerous situations, spoke volumes about his experience.
In other words, a truly competent person.
He gave a short introduction and the quickly move to the matter at hand.
"Our window confirmed the presence of the curse womb three hours ago. Since then, 90% of civilians have been successfully evacuated. We've sealed off the immediate area, and a 500-meter radius around the site is cleared."
"Ijichi-san, question. What's a "window" here?" Itadori raised his hand,
"A window is a member of Jujutsu Tech who can see curses, but they aren't sorcerers themselves. They observe and report any cursed activity in areas where it's most active."
Itadori gave a quick nod, taking in the information.
"Let's continue."
"Detainee Block 2. At present, five detainees remain there with the curse womb. If this curse womb is the type that metamorphoses, we predict it will become a special-grade cursed spirit."
Special-grade!
"Hey, so… I still don't really understand what 'special-grade' means," Itadori muttered, looking a bit lost.
Ichiji sighed and began to explain in detail, as if he were a teacher guiding first graders through the basics. He went over the structure and hierarchy of cursed spirits, from the lowly grade four—where a simple wooden bat would suffice—to the ominous special-grade, where even a carpet bombing with cluster bombs might not be enough. Ichiji's thoroughness made it feel almost too simple.
"That's… real bad!" Itadori said, eyes widening.
"Normally, a jujutsu sorcerer on par with the cursed spirit would take on the mission," Ichiji continued. "On a day like today, that would be Gojo-sensei or Shiki-senpai."
"I—I see," Itadori stammered.
"So, where is Gojo-sensei?" he asked.
"Away on business," Ichiji replied bluntly.
"Huh?"
"He's not exactly the type to stay put at school."
Just remembering the way he ditched us last time was enough to make my fist itch. That guy really needed a lesson in responsibility. And then it hit me—what about Shiki-senpai?
"Ichiji-san, what about Shiki-senpai?" I asked.
The mere mention of her name made Ichiji flinch.
'Ah... I forgot.'
Ijichi is completely scared of her.
As an assistant manager, he's always getting dragged around by Gojo. Normally, Ijichi is the pinnacle of professionalism, but Gojo's playful attitude and complete disregard for any kind of regulation are enough to make him perpetually anxious. And Shiki? She's like the extreme version of Gojo's disregard for the rules, minus the humor. It's no surprise he's developed a similar—if not more intense—demeanor around her.
I don't know the full story, but it's clear that "nervous" doesn't even begin to cover it. Ijichi is completely scared of Shiki. Even the slightest mention of her name is enough to make him flinch.
His solid, reliable demeanor crumbled just a bit more as he stuttered, trying to convey some vague explanation for why Shiki-senpai wasn't here.
"A-anyway, we're currently… short-handed for this mission."
"The current case is… well, it's abnormal and of the utmost urgency. Do not fight under any circumstances. If you encounter a special-grade, your options are either to run or die." He glanced between us with a forced sense of composure
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Third Person POV
In the near-empty halls of Jujutsu High, a lone woman wandered, poking her head into random rooms and checking deserted hallways.
Clutched tightly in each hand were her prized treasures: two ice cream cones, each sporting different flavors. The left was a rich green matcha, and the right, a suspiciously electric blue bubblegum—her unusual yet favorite combination.
She glanced around with an expression of confusion
"Where did everybody go?" she muttered, sounding less concerned
She gave a tiny shrug and, shrugging off the eerie quiet, took a slow lick of her ice cream.
And with that, Shiki resumed her lone, ice-cream-fueled stroll.
[END]
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That's it for the chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it!
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