Chapter Twenty Four: Dead People Don't Talk

Author Note:

To Whom It May Concern,

I'm addressing this directly to you, the individual who thought it acceptable to plagiarise my work. Let me make this crystal clear: I will not tolerate the theft of my intellectual property, fanfiction or otherwise.

If I discover that any of my stories have been used without my explicit consent on platforms such as YouTube, Wattpad, or elsewhere, I will immediately file a DMCA report. Rest assured, I have already taken action where necessary and will continue to do so. There will be no permissions granted, no exceptions made.

To the individual who has already overstepped: I've already reported your video, and you can expect a warning shortly. I strongly advise you to remove my content before your channel is permanently taken down. I've noticed that you've also stolen work from other writers. Whether or not they care is irrelevant—I do.

Your excuses about "credits" or "people preferring to listen rather than read" are irrelevant. If you lack the creativity to produce your own content, then this is not the platform for you.

Consider this your final warning: if I see my work misused again, I will not hesitate to report your entire channel. I will protect my work.

Take this seriously.

Now, dear readers,

I usually write wholesome stories, so I got carried away in the last few chapters— I was writing some fluffy stuff that time; I almost forgot that JJK falls in the 'Horror' category. Now, I've decided to man up again. I am not too good, but I'll try my best.

Just like old times— When The Earth Shook.

Anyways, what if, instead of meeting Panda, Kashimo met Yuji? Let's find out.

Enjoy.

Itadori Yuji walked slowly, his footsteps barely disturbing the gravel path beneath him. The evening air was heavy with a chill that seeped into his bones, the kind of cold that wrapped itself around you like a shroud. As he approached the small, lonely grave, the setting sun cast long shadows over the cemetery, turning everything into a landscape of dark, jagged shapes. The sky was a bruised purple, the last traces of daylight clinging stubbornly to the horizon.

Yuji couldn't remember the last time he had come here. The days had blurred together in a haze of violence and cursed energy, and visiting his grandpa's grave had fallen by the wayside. Now, standing before the simple stone marker, he felt a pang of guilt. His grandpa had been the only family he'd ever really known, the only person who'd cared for him unconditionally. And now, all that was left of him was a name etched in cold stone.

"Hey, grandpa," Yuji began, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while, huh? Sorry about that."

He crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the grave, as if expecting an answer. But the grave remained silent, as graves do, offering nothing but the quiet rustle of the wind through the nearby trees.

"High school's been a real pain, you know?" Yuji continued, trying to keep his tone light. "I'd got this demon king living inside me, and a bunch of crazy sorcerers trying to either kill me or use me. It's… it's a lot."

He sighed, running a hand through his pink hair. The weight of everything was pressing down on him, suffocating him. He wanted to be normal, to have a life that didn't involve life-or-death battles every other day. But that wasn't his fate. He was Yuji Itadori, the vessel of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. Normal was a dream long out of reach.

"And then there's my family," Yuji continued, his voice growing quieter. "Turns out, my mom or dad—whoever they were—was a freak. And I've got brothers, too. Or I had them. I killed them, though. They were… cursed womb paintings. Don't really know what that means, but it doesn't sound good, does it?"

He laughed bitterly, but there was no humor in it. The memory of those battles, of the blood and the screams, still haunted him. His brothers hadn't chosen their fates, just like he hadn't chosen his. But in the end, they'd fought, and he'd had to put them down. The guilt gnawed at him, a relentless beast that never slept.

"I don't get it, grandpa," Yuji said, his voice breaking slightly. "Why does there have to be so much violence? Why can't things just… be okay? I watched you suffer before you died, and I promised myself I wouldn't let anyone else go through that. But here I am, killing and fighting like it's all I know how to do."

A heavy silence fell over the cemetery, broken only by the distant cawing of crows. Yuji clenched his fists, staring down at the ground as if it held the answers to all his questions.

"You know," a voice suddenly spoke, cutting through the silence like a knife, "dead people don't talk."

Yuji didn't flinch. He didn't even look up. The air around him had shifted, the temperature dropping sharply as an immense, suffocating pressure filled the space. The cursed energy was overwhelming, but Yuji stood his ground. He knew better than to show fear.

"I know," Yuji replied, his voice steady. He slowly rose to his feet, still not turning around. "But they can hear us."

"Hmm, that's true," the man behind him said, his tone casual, almost friendly.

Yuji pulled out his phone, checking the time. 5:32 PM. He had about an hour before he was supposed to meet Yuta. Not a lot of time, considering the situation.

"You can tell, can't you?" Yuji asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

The man chuckled softly. "Well, I've been dead for quite some time."

"Good for you," Yuji said, starting to walk away. He didn't want to engage, not now. Whoever this guy was, he wasn't just some random cursed spirit. His presence felt different, more dangerous.

But the man wasn't done. He suddenly appeared in front of Yuji, blocking his path. He was tall and lean, his body clad in traditional Japanese clothing that looked strangely out of place in the modern world. His long, wild hair was a shocking shade of white, and his eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating light. His face was sharp, almost predatory, with a smirk that promised violence.

"Before you go," the man said, his voice dripping with dark amusement, "can you tell me where Ryomen Sukuna is?"

Yuji met his gaze, unfazed. "What would you do if I told you his whereabouts?"

The man's smirk widened. "I'd kill him."

Yuji raised an eyebrow. "Grudge?"

"No," the man replied, his voice as cold as his eyes. "I want a good spar."

Yuji sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Why don't you ask Tenodakume Gojo? That kid almost killed Sukuna."

The man chuckled again, a low, dangerous sound. "Nah, I want to fight Sukuna."

Yuji frowned, the weight of the situation settling over him like a heavy shroud. If he told this guy where Sukuna was—or rather, where Megumi was—then it would be a death sentence. Sukuna was far stronger now, more dangerous than anyone could have imagined. And this man… he didn't seem to care.

"You'll die, you know?" Yuji stated flatly, his tone carrying a warning. "He's far stronger than you knew him to be."

"I'd like that," the man replied, his grin widening. Then, after a pause, he added, "Do you care?"

Yuji shrugged. "I don't know you."

"True, true," the man said with a laugh. "I'm Kashimo."

"Yuji," he replied automatically. He didn't offer his last name; it didn't seem necessary. "So, you want a good spar, right?" Kashimo nodded. "And it has to be Sukuna? How about you join us and wait for him to get even stronger? Then you can fight a stronger Sukuna."

Kashimo tilted his head, considering the offer. "On a scale of Sukuna's 20 fingers, how strong is your strongest?"

Yuji thought for a moment, weighing his words carefully. "Hmm… my teacher is more or less at 18 fingers, while his nephew… I don't know, maybe 30? Maybe more?"

"Ho?" Kashimo said, clearly intrigued. "And Sukuna?"

"Stronger, maybe," Yuji shrugged, trying to keep his tone casual. "He did some nasty ritual, I guess."

Kashimo looked towards the setting sun, the fading light casting eerie shadows across his sharp features. "I guess it won't hurt to pay a visit to Tokyo High, then."

"Then let's move," Yuji said.

"Oh," Kashimo said, looking back. "The first sorcerer I see, I am fighting 'em. Don't interfere."

Yuji checked his phone. 05:34 pm. "Sure."

Ū—Ū

Yuta stood in the dimming light of the training ground, his breath visible in the crisp evening air. The sky above Tokyo Jujutsu High was draped in thick, ominous clouds that seemed to promise a storm. He absently traced the edges of the small box tucked deep in his pocket, feeling the hard, cold shape of it against his fingertips.

The 20th, and final, finger of Sukuna.

He hadn't wanted to use this. The mere thought of its power sent chills down his spine. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and there was a nagging idea that maybe, just maybe, they could turn this cursed object to their advantage. Exploit it somehow. But he needed to talk it over with Yuji first. That boy might know something they didn't.

He turned to sit on the stone steps leading up to the main building when—

"Yuta-senior!"

The shout startled him. He recognized the voice immediately. Yuji? But why was he—

He never finished the thought. Out of nowhere, a leg shot towards his head with lethal speed. Reflexes honed by countless battles kicked in, and Yuta twisted his body, barely dodging the blow by a hair's breadth. The force of the kick whipped the air past his face, a reminder of what would've happened if he'd been even a fraction slower.

Heart pounding, he leapt back, instinctively unsheathing his katana in one fluid motion. His eyes locked onto the figure who'd launched the attack.

The man stood there, tall and lean, with an almost feral aura. His appearance was striking—wild white hair that framed a sharp, angular face, eyes gleaming with a cold, merciless light, and an air about him that screamed danger. This guy looked like he'd walked straight out of a nightmare.

The man's smirk widened, revealing teeth that looked almost too sharp, too predatory. "Come on," he taunted, his voice low and dangerous. "Let's see what you've got, kid."

Yuta didn't need to be told twice. He surged forward, pouring every ounce of his cursed energy into his katana. The blade hissed as it sliced through the air, aimed directly at the man's midsection. But just as the blade was about to make contact, the man sidestepped with ease, his movements fluid and almost too quick to follow.

"Not bad," the man said, still smirking. "But not good enough."

Before Yuta could react, the man countered with a vicious strike, his hand crackling with a strange, electric energy. Yuta barely managed to block it, the impact sending a shockwave through his body that left his body numb.

What the hell is this guy? Yuta thought, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan. He'd faced powerful opponents before, but this was something else. The man moved with an inhuman speed and precision, and that electric energy… Yuta had no idea how to counter it.

He needed to change his approach. Fast.

Yuta shifted his stance, tightening his grip on the katana as he prepared to go on the offensive again. He couldn't afford to hold back. Not against this guy. With a burst of cursed energy, he launched himself at the man, slashing his katana in a wide arc. The man dodged, but Yuta was ready this time. He followed up with a flurry of attacks, each one faster and more powerful than the last.

But the man was still too quick. He weaved through Yuta's attacks like water, barely even breaking a sweat. And then, with a sudden burst of speed, he closed the distance between them, delivering a brutal uppercut that sent Yuta flying backward. Yuta crashed to the ground, pain exploding in his jaw as he tasted blood.

Get up, Yuta, he told himself, forcing his body to move. You can't let him win.

Ignoring the pain, Yuta pushed himself to his feet. He could feel the cursed energy crackling around him, a dark, ominous force that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. He couldn't afford to lose here. Not when so much was at stake.

The man was watching him with a look of mild amusement, his arms crossed over his chest. "You're not bad, kid," he said, almost sounding impressed. "But you're still not good enough."

"Why are you attacking me?!" Yuta demanded, his voice edged with tension. He tightened his grip on the katana, muscles coiled like springs ready to unleash lethal force. "Are you working with Kenjaku?"

The man snorted, a low, derisive sound. "Kenjaku? Him? I work with nobody. I just want a good snack. You know, I haven't fought anybody tough since I woke up."

His voice was casual, almost amused, as if this was all some game to him. But the way he spoke, the ease with which he had launched that kick—it all set Yuta on edge.

This guy wasn't just strong; he was something else entirely.

The man didn't give him time to think. He launched himself at Yuta with terrifying speed, a blur of motion.

Yuta barely had time to react, dodging a flurry of punches and kicks that came with bone-crushing force. Each blow was meant to kill, and Yuta could feel the lethal intent behind them.

This guy was fast. Too fast.

Yuta gritted his teeth, focusing all his energy on evasion. His body moved on instinct, twisting and turning to avoid the strikes that seemed to come from every direction. He could feel the wind from each missed blow, the air around him crackling with energy. This was getting out of hand.

He needed to turn this around.

His katana flashed in the dim light, slicing through the air with deadly precision.

He aimed for the man's midsection, but his opponent was just as quick, sidestepping the blade with a grin that sent a chill down Yuta's spine.

"You're good," the man said, almost lazily. "But not good enough."

Yuta launched himself again, punching the man on his ribcage, his hand crackling with a strange, electric energy.

A Black Flash.

The impact sent a shockwave through his body that left his arm numb.

The man was sent flying.

This guy wasn't just a fighter. He was something else, something beyond human. Yuta could feel it in the way he moved, in the power behind each strike. And that energy… it was unlike anything he'd ever encountered.

But Yuta wasn't backing down. He couldn't afford to.

His katana slashed again, aiming for the man's throat, but once more, he dodged effortlessly.

Then, before Yuta could react, the man countered with a vicious uppercut, his fist crackling with that same electric energy. It connected with Yuta's chin, sending him flying back with a grunt of pain. He landed hard, skidding across the ground, but he managed to roll to his feet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Yuta didn't waste any time, enhancing his strength with cursed energy, he launched himself at the man. He couldn't let this guy win. Or else…

Yuta punched the man on his back, black and crimson lightning crackled from the impact.

Another Black Flash.

Yuta quickly used the Reversed Cursed Technique and healed his broken fist and other injuries.

But…

The man looked barely hurt. Perhaps he knew the Reversed Cursed Technique too? Most probably.

"That's more like it," the man said with a grin that was all teeth. He raised his hand, the air around him buzzing with electricity. "Let's see how long you can keep this up."

Yuta's mind raced. He couldn't keep dodging forever. This guy was too strong, too fast. And that electric energy—he had no idea how to counter it. If this kept up, he was going to lose. And then what? They needed him. The whole school was counting on him.

He poured more cursed energy into his katana, and with a little enhancement, he disappeared from the spot, aiming to deliver a slash…

…only to be blocked by the man's stuff.

Where did that come from?

Yuta's thoughts flashed to Rika. He hadn't wanted to rely on her power, not unless he had no other choice. But now… it seemed he didn't have much of a choice left.

Just as he was about to summon Rika, a figure suddenly appeared between them, so fast that neither Yuta nor his opponent had time to react. The newcomer's presence was overwhelming, an aura of raw power that made the air itself seem to vibrate.

It was Gojo Satoru.

Yuta felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was quickly tempered by the intensity of Gojo's expression. His usually playful demeanour was gone, replaced by something dark, something dangerous. Gojo's blue eyes, usually filled with a mischievous sparkle, were cold and piercing as they fixed on the man who had been attacking Yuta.

"Are you trying to kill my dear pupil?" Gojo's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down Yuta's spine.

The man didn't seem fazed at all. In fact, he smirked, as if the whole situation was amusing to him. "Nah, just letting out some things off my system," Kashimo said with a shrug, as if this had all been some kind of warm-up.

Yuta sighed, lowering his katana slightly, but not letting his guard down completely. He turned his gaze to Yuji, who had 'just arrived' and was watching the scene unfold with a nervous smile. Yuta tried to glare at him, but the exhaustion from the fight made it difficult to muster anything more than a weary look.

"I knew I was no match for him," Yuji explained sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I figured you guys would be."

Kashimo's grin widened, a savage, almost feral expression. "You think I'm weak?" There was a challenge in his tone, as if daring Yuji to say otherwise.

Gojo, seemingly unperturbed by Kashimo's demeanour, reached out and tapped the man on the shoulder with a playful smirk. "You wanna introduce yourself, man?"

Kashimo's gaze flicked to Gojo, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—interest, maybe, or recognition of the power standing before him. But instead of answering Gojo's question, he asked his own, his tone still carrying that hint of amusement.

"Who are you?"

Before Gojo could reply, another voice cut in, drawing everyone's attention. The voice was youthful, almost boyish, but there was something about it that was authoritative.

"The strongest sorcerer of the modern time," the voice announced with an odd mix of pride and teasing. "Old Man Sensei Kak… ahem… Satoru Gojo."

"And you are?" Kashimo asked, his tone shifting slightly as he sensed the strange, powerful energy radiating from the boy.

Naruto—grinned, his smile wide and confident, like a fox who'd just caught sight of a particularly juicy prey.

"Just a shinobi,"

TBC

Author Note: Guys, if you see someone using this story on any online platform, report it. I only write on here, Wattpad and AO3 under the same name.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter.