A/N: This is another one of those pilot chapters for a project I want to start, but don't know if I'm fully committed to yet. Jujutsu Kaisen is a series that is new to my repertoire, and while this story is canon compliant at the moment, that'll probably change as time goes on, especially since I'm not as familiar with the manga events that happen after season two of the anime. But generally with this, I'm throwing caution to the wind and am just going to write the best story I can for this incredible universe. Furthermore, this first chapter is dedicated to a friend of mine who introduced me to JJK. Thanks for introducing me to a series that's helped me work through some things recently. Thank you for your friendship over the years and for proof-reading this first chapter for me. Now, without further adeiu, let's get this ball rolling.

Disclaimer: Jujutsu Kaisen is the property of the one-eyed cat gremlin known as Gege Akutami. This work is merely a Fanfiction and I only own the original characters that will be introduced in this chapter.

Warnings: This story, aside from the first section, takes place shortly after JJK 0 and before the events of the anime. Spoilers for the movie and anime will be present for this story, but no manga spoilers for now. So, if you're anime only, this story is safe for you to consume. This story will also contain alternating POVs and there's some very loose fourth-wall breaking in this first chapter. Going for a fairly light tone with this. Mostly... I hope you guys will enjoy the story. Best wishes and God bless you all!

[Mild revisions made on Dec. 6th, 2024]

Till I

The law of energy conservation makes a firm statement – that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It is merely transferred by means of transformation from one entity to the next.

Energy possessed by an object according to its relative position to others, within itself, or an electric charge is defined as potential energy.

That is the nature of her cursed technique.

The discovery and subsequent cultivation of this skill was set into motion nearly a year ago now, but the woman lying motionless on cracked asphalt isn't thinking about how she ended up in this precarious state between life and death.

All she can feel are the waves of Cursed Energy crackling through each nerve of her body. It was an indescribable agony when she first collapsed, heaving out raspy breaths and even some blood before she was carefully maneuvered to lie down on her back. She doesn't know if she screamed or not, can't remember when the towering skyscrapers beneath the inky abyss of the sky shifted to an image of his panic-stricken face.

If she could have spoken, she would have commented on how strange it was for a man like him to wear such an expression on her behalf. To everyone else, he was the personification of confidence and arrogance. He constantly gloated about his strength to anyone who would hear while goofing around like a gigantic kid.

Those traits hid a willingness to put everything and everyone ahead of himself. He annoyed many of his peers, but his competency as both a surrogate father and teacher couldn't be questioned. His care for those weaker than him, though not as easily apparent to others, is something she knows is unmatched.

He had lost people who were precious to him.

But even after all the time they've spent together, there are parts of Satoru Gojo she still doesn't know.

As he hovers above her, pressing his palms against her sternum to try and force breath out of her lungs, the woman can't focus on anything except the otherworldly glow of his eyes.

Euphoria had replaced the pain a while ago.

Perhaps her heart stopped beating, and she assumes she isn't breathing when she registers the sensation of his lips descending on hers, not in a kiss but in desperate puffs of breath that immediately escape from her mouth as he withdraws to do more compressions.

She wishes she could respond, especially when his own breath start to shudder with emotion, another rarity she'd only seen from him one other time.

The massive flow of Cursed Energy is keeps her conscious for now, but she doubts the effect will last much longer. Black dots are already lining the edges of her vision, slowly creeping in to shroud out the light of the deserted streets where everything began and where everything will end.

He shakily lifts her into his arms. His mouth moves, but the woman is swiftly losing her hearing.

After a flash of light and a few seconds of disorientation, she sees Shoko Ieiri's face followed by the sensation of Satoru's tightening grip on her body.

Everything dims. The world is losing color.

Only then does the woman realize she's probably dying.

A part of her wants to laugh, but she imagines that urge is in response to the pleasant buzz dictating most of her thoughts.

She had always wondered what it was about Jujutsu he liked so much.

Now she knows.

To wield such incredible power is a high like no other. She had seen first-hand how horrifying his world could be, and this feeling is somehow better compensation than the truckloads of money she'd seen him deposit into his accounts.

Was it worth dying for on its own? Absolutely not.

But she gets it now.

Given how weak her innate abilities are, the woman had no business interfering in any of Gojo's battles.

But she had rushed into the fray anyway, hoping to make a difference.

If nothing else, she's happy to have accomplished that.

She won't be anything more than a footnote in his story…but that is enough.

Ten months earlier
December 15th, 2017

You are not the main character.

Over the years, several have uttered these words to me based on assumptions spawned by an occupation I didn't choose.

"Lift your chin higher, please."

I follow the request wordlessly while maintaining a disinterested expression for the camera. Bright flashes blind me temporarily, but my expression and pose remain the same as cold air from the surrounding fans ruffle through the ebony strands of my curled hair.

"Perfect."

The photographer moves a few paces to the right, then kneels to capture a different angle of the silver couture gown draped over my figure. His admiring gaze lingers for a little longer than necessary along certain places, but it's nothing abnormal.

Modeling is all about presenting an illusion of perfection.

Those outside the industry may peek in and claim to see the dark underbelly of glamor, but many secrets of this world remain invisible regardless.

"Alright! That's a wrap! Great work everyone!"

The tension in my shoulders eases. "Finally."

My manager immediately dashes over, her auburn tresses bouncing as she praises me for another job well done before shooing me off to the makeshift dressing area nearby. Two female staff members accompany me behind the temporary wall to help me take off the extravagant gown that needs to be hung up on the rack of clothes before anyone can leave the studio.

It's during this process that a low mewling reaches my ears, drawing my gaze down toward my feet.

You are not the main character.

And yet it seems I'm the only one who can see this cat-like creature trying to sink its claws into the very expensive fabric of this one-of-a-kind dress I couldn't afford to pay for even if I sold everything I owned plus a kidney.

"Could I get some water please?" I ask as a distraction tactic. The shorter female attendant groans, rolling her eyes at me. The taller woman is busy fighting against the tiny zipper that's gotten stuck somewhere near my hips, so she's not paying the slightest attention to me when I grip the fabric of the skirt and subtly shake the stripped, silver demon kitten off the dress. It hisses loudly, expressing its aggravation with me for having ruined its fun, but I ignore the sound…just as I've ignored everything else this little spawn of Satan has done in the last month.

Demon or not, cats get away with everything.

"Here."

With the bottle of water in hand, I take a quick swig and groan softly as both women attack the stubborn zipper that will not budge past the point of my hips.

"Someone should lay off the sweets."

I don't bother responding to the jibe. I'm only half Japanese. The other half of my gene pool is revered throughout the male population of Ireland for our wider hips and generous backsides.

My mother has advised me to move my work to the United States precisely because of this.

But stubbornly, I have committed to the uphill climb of modeling in Japan to stay close to my estranged father, whose health is dwindling more and more by the day. Our relationship has improved substantially in the last two years, so I have no major complaints about living and working here beyond the occasional lewd glances and the annoying comments about my hips being too wide for some of the major fashion labels I've worked with for magazine shoots and fashion shows.

Frankly, they should make more realistic sizes for models to wear so we don't have to put our health on the line over a paycheck…

Then again…I have brought home packages of chocolate truffles and butter-miso cookies every night this week, so maybe I could cut back on the sugar intake a little.

But just a little.

After another five minutes and some help from my manager, the gemstone ridden monstrosity is extracted from my body and returned to the rack as I change into my regular clothes, which consist of a white sweater dress, black leggings, and black knee-high boots. The black leather trench coat I came in with is hanging over the back of a rolling chair, where my chubby, feline companion sits licking its paws like a little pampered prince…or princess.

"Hmm…that's something I need to check."

With the staff members out of the makeshift dressing room, it's safe to approach and address the creature that's been tearing my life asunder in…admittedly cute ways.

My descent into madness started while on my way home from a particularly draining photo shoot in which there were no thoughts in my head but to buy some ice cream. In my haste on that fateful afternoon one month ago, I took a shortcut through an alleyway that has an Alice and Wonderland themed store and an arcade cramped next to each other. I don't take the shortcut often since both places are constantly packed and lines tend to leak onto the street instead of staying contained within their respective buildings, but the desperation for something cold and sweet outweighed any social anxiety I could have had.

So, during this foray through the shortcut to get to ice cream faster, I suppose, right out of Wonderland itself, came this mystical little tiger cub with twin tails of grey fluff. The poor thing was limping and bleeding profusely from several wounds on its body, and if that weren't enough to convince me to help, especially since no one else was paying it any attention, the little manipulator peered at me with beautiful violet cat-eyes and gave the most pitiful, human-like meow I have ever heard in my life.

Its acting skills should have tipped me off that I was dealing with something abnormal.

...

The violet eyes and twin tails probably should have been an indicator too.

...

You are not the main character.

And yet here we are…dealing with main character shenanigans that belong in a teenager's anime and not in my very adult and intensely boring life.

I can practically hear the imaginary audience of my life screaming, "Boring? But you're a model!"

Yeah. And when it isn't boring it's stressful. You know how office jobs tend to suck the life out of people? That's what modeling does to me.

Wearing a mask of outward perfection when you're dying on the inside is exhausting no matter how glamorous or fun it seems to onlookers.

Now the imaginary audience wonders how I'm dying inside.

That's a topic for a different day.

Sensing my approach, my demon cat pauses in licking its paws to look up at me innocently. I smile back at the creature, carefully extending my hands toward it.

"Mind if I pick you up? Need to check something."

The feline practically leaps into my arms, and for two seconds I wonder if this is somehow a dog demon rather than a cat.

Is Inuyasha canon to the real world?

"I hope not," I say aloud, raising up the creature to examine its nether region. Despite my best efforts, I'm officially attached to this little menace, so confirming its gender is a must so a proper name can be chosen for…

"Meow!"

I nod once. "Yep. Only a boy would give me this much trouble. You ready to go home?"

"Meow!"

The creature leaps out of my hands and starts running laps around my feet as I stretch forward to grab my coat.

"And do you have a name of your own or is it finally time I named you?"

Though the cat doesn't actually answer me, he does stop in his tracks while giving me a look that shouts, "Of course I have a name, stupid!"

But clearly he isn't so supernatural that he can verbally tell me his name, so the rowdy troublemaker just mewls again, wagging his twin tails like he expects me to solve the mystery of his name with zero information to go on.

"How about Fatty Tuna?"

"MEOWWWWWWW!" He raises his little paws like he wants to punch me, which almost elicits a bout of hysterics, but I have to stifle it to make sure none of the staff hear me. Wouldn't want anyone to know I've lost my mind just yet. It was bound to happen at some point, but my psychosis is taking a very interesting form.

"Sorry," I whisper, still fighting some giggles. "I'll think of something else that suits you…eventually."

He purrs in a manner that sounds like a sigh as I offer my hand so he can climb up my arm. Though seemingly annoyed, my little companion doesn't hesitate to make himself comfortable on my shoulder. Despite being a good size, he feels weightless even while draped over me like I'm a personal pillow.

I guess the little fur-ball has gotten attached to me too.

This would be an open and shut case of a cat choosing a human to become its slave if not for one major question that demands an answer.

Why am I the only one that can see him?

"This assignment might actually be interesting."

Yaga sighs at my words, just like he sighs at almost everything I say and do. The old man could learn to lighten up a little. Six Eyes is already showing me the wrinkles and grey hairs he'll develop in less than a year if he doesn't relax. Making cursed dolls certainly isn't helping him. Even as he sits at his desk before me, long, thin knitting needles in hand, his expression is incredibly sour.

"It's not often you're assigned to Special Grades here in Tokyo, but this one is a truly cunning creature. It's been drifting out of reach for quite some time..."

"Should have sent me to take care of this ages ago then…"

"You were a baby the last time it appeared anywhere."

…

"Wow…you're really that old, sensei?"

"BE SERIOUS FOR ONCE, YOU NUMBSKULL!"

With a chuckle I lean back against the cushions of my former teacher's couch while scanning the mission details. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm just amazed a Special Grade Curse like this could disappear without any residual energy and keep quiet for over two decades. Makes me wonder why it would show up in Tokyo now. A response to the recent incident, maybe?"

Yaga's expression softens as his fingers pause over his work on the doll.

The subtle sign of sympathy is my cue to leave.

"Whatever the case may be, I'll take care of it…just like I took care of that."

He nods once, and there's an unspoken agreement in the motion as I spring to my feet with an exaggerated yawn.

It's a synchronized dance we all participate in to avoid sensitive topics, or rather, the sensitive topic we were all reminded of a few weeks back. In the aftermath of those events, we're tapping our feet to those familiar steps of false apathy to cover up the anguish.

Same as ten years ago.

...

He threw away everything for a crusade doomed to fail from the beginning. In fact, his goals would have been squashed immediately if there had been someone strong enough around to put him down before he could even start.

Oh, wait. There was. Me.

But…

…

Harboring regrets for what I couldn't do then is pointless. Mistakes can be corrected.

Suguru Geto is dead. Truly dead. Not in the metaphorical, we can't reconcile because of fundamental differences, dead, but in the irreversible, I took out a gun and shot you, dead.

Granted, no guns were involved, but that little detail doesn't matter.

The result is the same regardless.

…

His last, stuttering breath echoes through every square inch of this place. It makes me want to vomit.

…

But it's fine.

…

My own mission is far from over. Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good, right?

…

"Oh! Before I forget." Grinning wickedly, I slap an envelope decorated in fancy gold trim on Yaga's desk. "As always, you're invited to my annual Christmas bash tomorrow!"

He stares blankly at the invitation.

"Gojo…"

"Yes. Yes. I know. Don't worry. This Special Grade will be dead before midnight tonight, and tomorrow is my day off, soooooo, I'll be expecting everyone that isn't working to be at the very expensive venue I've prepared in advance by 7pm sharp tomorrow night. That includes my wonderful students! And be sure to bring something nice for the kids and faculty for a game of Dirty Santa. Not one of those poorly made cursed dolls."

"POORLY MADE!?"

"See yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

The door is firmly closed behind me before Yaga can say or do anything more as I skip down the hall with renewed excitement for what will come after I slay the Special Grade tonight.

Hopefully that'll be fun too though because some Special Grades really aren't that special. This job can get boring when there's nothing to challenge my mighty power as the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer.

Besides…

…

I need a distraction.

…

Yeah. Distractions and sweets are the best medicine for grief.

A/N: And that's the end of the first chapter! If you feel so inclined, let me know how you feel about the work so far with a comment. This is my first JJK story, so go easy on me if a few details are off. I can always come back and do some minor editing, for that is the magic of Fanfiction. Thank you all for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter. Best wishes and God bless you all!