A/N: Here we are again with another chapter! I'm feeling pretty excited about this one, but there is one thing I need to mention. While researching some things for this chapter, I realized that I misremembered the date of the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons, you know that battle from JJK 0. I started this story without double checking that particular detail...and we're in too deep now to re-write things, but have no fear dear reader. I have encountered such problems before. We're gonna make the date inconsistency work for this story later down the line...because unlike other stories of mine, I actually have a plan with this one...kind of. The point is that the date inconsistency is deliberate now...for reasons that aren't important yet. Don't worry about it. I'm adopting the mentality of "just trust the process" while working on this piece because it is swiftly becoming a passion project. Anyway, enough rambling out of me. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Best wishes and God bless you all!
Disclaimer: Jujutsu Kaisen is the property of Gege Akutami and other copyright holders. This work is merely a Fanfiction. I only own my original characters.
Warnings: I'll just let the chapter speak for itself. Enjoy!
This grotesque shape is not my true self.
Hazy echoes of a life defined by beauty and justice have fluttered through my mind in wistful dreams of grand halls within palaces of crystal.
It's a setting of opulence contrasted by pale hands caked in blood.
...
Even then…I hated killing.
The path of blood never suited me, but it was thrust upon me in a time and world I can't fully grasp.
Did I have friends? Lovers?
Something tells me I must have.
Of course, my certainty of these things are built on a fragmented foundation.
…
I am a Cursed Spirit…
…
But once…
...
I was a mother with two daughters.
…
I watched one grow into a young woman. The other was ripped from my arms seconds after she was born.
…
The circumstances of my demise in that world allude me, and after all the time that has passed since my rebirth, I see no point in trying to grasp those memories.
In two, nearly three decades, only one thing has mattered to me.
My daughters.
...
I just want to see them one more time.
...
So many have died for the fulfillment of this selfish wish.
...
Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.
You will never be forgiven. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never.
...
The vengeful murmurs of my victims summon images of grey skies, billowing waves of midnight blue, scarlet tresses of hair flying in the wind, and violent sobs from a little child.
Yes…I remember my sins all too well.
…
My first attempt to replicate my ability to traverse worlds cursed a pair of sisters.
…
Two daughters of a mother…
…
The irony isn't lost on me, but my own desire to see my daughters eradicated any sympathy I could have held back then.
...
A mother's love can be its own curse when motivated by desperation.
...
Things are different now. I'm different.
Rather, I have begun to remember who I was.
...
But it's far too late to reclaim my identity as a soldier of hope.
I am a Cursed Spirit in the present day, and I will play that roll until my existence in this realm ends.
Satoru Gojo is following the path I laid out for him this day. He will be used to force the outcome I desire.
That's the only way forward, regardless of how ashamed I am.
...
The last thing I want is for all the suffering I've wrought upon this world to be in vain.
...
This battle will be my last.
...
I will get home to my daughters or surrender my life in the attempt.
...
This grotesque shape is not my true self.
December 15th, 2017
Tokyo, Japan - Shibuya District
At 6:33pm, the Shikigami dubbed, Fatty Tuna, bypasses two Managers assigned to the southern wall of the Curtain surrounding the winding alleyways outside of Shibuya's Indigo Hotel.
One minute later, a soaking wet, thirty-year-old model with wavy ebony tresses and grey irises bounds her way onto the scene with a vicious death-glare plastered across her face.
"GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT, FATTY!"
The managers didn't recover from the shock of the manic woman's words fast enough to chase her as she passed, but that was fine.
She wouldn't get through the barrier anyway.
At least, that's what they thought until she phased through the black dome with no trouble whatsoever.
"That's not supposed to happen!? What do we do now!? There's a Special Grade in there!"
"Call Mr. Ijichi! Hurry!"
The woman doesn't hear their voices while crossing the threshold of the barrier, but in a very cowardly corner of her mind, she realizes that she probably shouldn't have been able to see the massive black dome, let alone run through it, but the concern over this fact disappears once she spots Fatty Tuna a few paces ahead, his twin tails wagging furiously while he runs.
Growling, she blinks repeatedly to combat the dry irritation settling over her eyes, then breaks into another sprint.
"When I catch you…"
Meanwhile, Kiyotaka Ijichi, positioned outside the northern edge of the barrier, receives word of this random woman's entry one minute after Satoru Gojo began his hunt for the elusive Special Grade.
He frowns deeply as soon as his co-worker finishes speaking because he knows this has to be a wild prank of some sort. The first Curtain he cast should have denied access to anyone outside of Jujutsu Society.
That's how it works. That's how it always works.
It is truly unfortunate that no one involved in this mission is aware of the woman's main character status yet.
"What do you mean a civilian passed through!? How could you let this happen?"
"I literally just started this job last week! Don't yell at me! I didn't ask for this!"
Ijichi sighs, firmly regretting his compliance with Gojo's hints to put up additional barriers.
The second barrier erected is a reinforced dome designed to keep Cursed Spirits and Sorcerers trapped inside together. Even a Special Grade Curse would have some difficulty breaking it, which is the point since they were dealing with a Curse capable of hiding for literal decades.
Once it was exorcised, Gojo could dismantle both barriers on his own.
Really, the extra step was a standard precaution.
It came with a drawback, but up until a minute ago, said drawback had been completely insignificant.
Gojo is, without question, the strongest Sorcerer throughout Jujutsu Society. He doesn't need anyone to oversee his missions or worry about his well-being on the field. The man is an untouchable, feral menace to any Curse in his way. Period.
In fact, the only reason Ijichi and his colleagues are here "helping" is because the higher-ups requested their presence with this case.
That's it. Nothing more. Nothing less.
A reason for the order wasn't given either, though if he were to guess at one, he'd say it was a matter of mitigating costs from the inevitable infrastructure damages Gojo routinely created on his missions just to piss them off.
But none of that matters anymore.
What matters is that all these precautions mean absolutely nothing now because a non-sorcerer has thoughtlessly wandered onto a battlefield reserved for an Unregistered Special Grade Curse and Satoru Gojo.
...
It's a liability nightmare waiting to happen.
And, worst of all, Ijichi can't call Gojo to let him know what happened because the specialized barrier prevents it.
Now, a simple solution would be to just disable the secondary barrier…
…
Except he can't.
Ijichi waves his hand repeatedly, willing the extra dome to dissipate…but it doesn't budge an inch.
"Why!? Why won't it just...?"
Again, no one is aware of the woman's main character status yet.
"This is a disaster," Ijichi whispers in defeat while pressing his palm against his forehead.
The skin is hot to the touch.
"Of course I have a fever right now..."
Inside the barrier, completely unaware of the compromising element to the mission, Gojo sings Christmas songs in a last-ditch effort to empty his mind of things he'd rather not ponder. Once face to face with the Curse he's after, he'll allow himself to unleash all the rage and grief simmering beneath this facade of joy.
But until then…
"You will get a sentimental feeling when you hear…"
He laughs for a beat.
"Voices singing, let's be jolly. Deck the halls with boughs of…"
"FATTY TUNA!"
The shrill scream makes him pause, though not for the appropriate reason.
"That is not how the song goes."
Nevertheless, it is the thing the model keeps shouting while closing the gap between her and the demon cat that adopted her.
"Y-You," she moans between gasps. "Y-You are not getting treats tonight. You hear me!? NONE!"
The animal spirit keeps moving, gingerly slowing his pace until he's standing in the street between the alleyway and the back entrance of the Indigo Hotel.
"Thank heaven you finally stopped…"
Fatty Tuna twists his head toward her, hissing out a warning. The woman scowls, a hot retort about roasting him for dinner ready to roll off her tongue when a sudden shift in the air silences her.
"This is…"
Panting quietly, the model tentatively takes notice of the mist hovering through the area. Fatty Tuna draws closer, positioning himself in front of his human defensively as a flash of light envelops his small body, morphing him into a full-grown demon tiger right before her eyes.
However, though she sees him change, she doesn't fully register the transformation until he gently nudges his large head against her stomach.
"Looking good buddy," she murmurs distractedly, her focus on the thickening fog.
"This is just like…back then…"
Clenching her hands into fists, the woman takes hesitant steps forward through the mist. Fatty Tuna accompanies her, his low grumbling soothing her anxiety as an indiscernible whisper drifts through the air like a siren's song.
"I know that voice…"
She stops at the base of the concrete stairway leading to the hotel.
"Show yourself," the model commands. "Right now."
Immediately, black smoke oozes from between the cracks of the glass doors above her position. The smoke mixes with the grey mist, spraying out a frigid gust that sends the woman's hair flying wildly. Her feline companion crouches slightly, hissing at the air currents swirling to create a human-like shape.
"Easy boy," she whispers, heart racing with trepidation when silver feathers covered in hundreds of tiny eyes sprout from the creature's back and snow-white wisps of hair burst from its skull.
This encounter is a manifestation of her worst nightmares made real.
She never wanted to see this monster again.
But it's here, and she needs to know...
You...
An unnatural movement shakes through the wraith's wispy hand as it raises a translucent arm.
I… remember…
Hearing the ancient, feminine voice within her mind, the half-Japanese, half-Irish model forces out a steady breath.
"Do you now?"
Extending a bony index finger, the creature speaks again.
Your face…haunts me…
Tears spring to the woman's glowing eyes.
"Tell me this. Does the name Angelica Kelmendi mean anything to you?"
May 7th, 1991
Ireland, Cliffs of Moher
"..."
"Gel, what's divorce?"
"…"
"Gel?"
"Where did you hear that word from?"
"Mama and Papa."
"…"
"You don't need to know what it means."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not important."
"Why?"
"It just isn't! Here. Bring me another bucket of water so we can finish this sandcastle and go home."
"Do we have to? Can't we stay here forever?"
"…"
"Sorry sis. We can't."
"Okay…"
"…"
"Gel?"
"Hmm?"
"Papa… He..."
"…"
"What is it? Spit it out."
"Papa and Mama were talking the other day and..."
"And?"
"He said…he said he wasn't my Papa."
"…"
"Why would he say that, Gel? Does…Papa not love me?"
"…"
"Don't be silly. Of course he loves you."
"But…"
"Look, don't worry about what adults talk about. They're all stupid anyway."
"That's not nice! Mama says not to call anyone stupid."
"Mama says a lot of things. Hurry and get the water now."
"Kay!"
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
"And it's done! Time to go home!"
"Can we stay a little bit longer?"
"That's probably not a good idea. See those clouds over there? That means a storm is on the way. We got a long way to walk to get home, and I don't want to get caught in the rain."
"Come on. Please? Ten more minutes?"
"…"
"Ugh! Fine. Ten more minutes, but then we have to go."
"Yaaaaaaay!"
…
…
…
…
…
...
...
...
...
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh! Gel!"
…
"Hey! Get away from her!"
…
…
"Aaaaaaaaaaaah!"
…
"Leave my sister alone, ack!"
…
…
…
A splatter of crimson stains the sandcastle two sisters built together.
The younger girl's chest heaves erratically while she gazes into each eye covering the expanse of a wraith's silver feathers. Its body, composed almost entirely of charcoal mists, hovers near her sister's crumbled form along the coast as frothy waves stretch to burn through the skin and muscle torn by the monster's Cursed Energy.
Frightened and unsure of what to do, the little girl breaks down into a series of violent sobs only a four-year-old can muster.
Hearing that sound, Angelica Kelmendi, age twelve, shakily pushes herself up to her knees while blood, black from minimal oxygen to the wound, flows down her right arm.
The monster doesn't move, only watches the older girl crawl along the sand toward the weeping child.
"R-Run…"
The little girl hiccups, her gaze lifting slightly. She stares at the blood. She knows her sister is hurt. She needs to do something. Anything.
"But… But…"
Fat droplets roll down her face.
Angelica smiles solemnly, admiring the luminous glow of her little sister's grey eyes.
"Get out of here!"
The girl visibly shakes at the urgent tone, but she still can't move.
"Gel…"
"NOW!"
The snarled command finally gets the child on her feet. She flees across the sands as quickly as she can, only glancing back once to catch a final glimpse of her sister's enduring smile and striking scarlet hair as it flies about her head in the thickening fog.
Angelica shouts something else then…but the words are drowned out by waves crashing along the shore.
The rain follows soon after, drenching her in anguish with each step she takes.
December 15th, 2017
Tokyo, Japan – Shibuya District
6:40pm
Silence.
It's cold and empty yet deafening in how loudly it speaks to a wounded heart.
Whether it's the noise of roaring vehicles or the hum of idle chatter inside a packed restaurant, having some measure of sound around keeps me calm. I would never call myself a social butterfly, but I enjoy listening to the world play its music of continuous motion.
I never needed to be part of it. I just needed to hear it.
Because Ireland was too quiet.
My days living in France were spent wandering quaint towns as I built my modeling portfolio, but over time I fell into a suffocating routine that drained my world of the noise I need to chase away the demons of the past.
I would have stayed there though...if not for the news of my biological father's illness two years ago. Aside from his younger brother, an uncle I hadn't ever met at the time, he had no one to take care of him. Money was scarce for them both and no one was willing to help, except for my mother, but she couldn't do much with her meager income.
She only asked me to send her a check for them.
I moved to Japan instead.
Shortly after arriving, I discovered that this country has all the noisy distractions I could ever want. An introvert's paradise, if you will.
But why?
Simple. This country provides so many ways to live without ever having to connect with others.
This place helped me run.
I was happy with that.
I am happy with that.
Why would I ever want to connect with others?
Bonds create weaknesses I can't afford to have.
...
Loneliness is the natural result of isolation, but at least the pain from that is something I chose.
I didn't choose the circumstances of my birth, the loss of my sister, or even my career.
And on the surface, everything seems fine.
But it isn't.
It never was.
And now, when I need noise the most, silence is the response.
The monster responsible for my sister's disappearance hovers a few feet away from me, its faceless visage unreadable.
"Why aren't you answering me?" I demand shakily, wrestling against the urge to cry. "Do you remember my sister or not?"
The monster's faceless visage is unreadable as it flaps its eye-covered wings.
The girl with the red hair.
My breath catches as the creature drifts closer.
Not a day goes by that I don't think of her.
Fatty Tuna snarls at the wraith's approach. Hundreds of eyes, cycling through every color of the rainbow, shift toward him.
Ah. I remember you too. You healed up well.
Fighting to keep calm, I card my fingers through his thick, silver fur. He mewls once, and it's a reassuring sound.
"So, you're the one who hurt him," I whisper. "You have a bad habit of hurting what I love."
The wraith shrinks back as if cut by a blade.
Such a response is strange, but I don't let it deter me. I have to press on.
I have to know…
"What did you do to my sister that day?" I ask, narrowing my gaze on the creature. "Did you kill her?"
Silence meets my questions, but only for a moment.
I did not.
And just like that, everything in my world shatters.
"What!?"
The wraith's head dips down, its long hair swaying with the movement.
That day...
Without warning the monster phases out of sight.
Get down!
My body obeys before my mind can catch up to the command and Fatty Tuna drapes himself over me as a sharp whoosh sails above us, shattering the quiet with a roar of chaos that sends glass and other debris flying.
"Oh? What do we have here?"
Eyes widening in horror, I crawl out from beneath my faithful demon cat to peer over my shoulder.
There, casually strolling into the scene with an orb of crimson hovering above an index finger, is the sultry bane of my existence: Broomstick Man, now equipped with superpowers.
…
I'm not even surprised at this point. This mess really is a bad anime plot.
Leave this place, girl. It is no longer safe for you.
Fatty Tuna mewls with a new sense of urgency, but I'm too stunned by Broomstick Man's appearance to breathe let alone move.
He continues marching toward me, his head shifting slightly to his left as the mist starts to thicken again.
"A Curse User, I presume?"
Fatty Tuna dashes to stand in front of me, hissing viciously at the newcomer.
Run! Get away from here!
Those are the same words my sister said all those years ago.
But this time, I…
…
When I don't answer, Broomstick Man's casual smile slips into a gleeful expression that, in my professional opinion, looks low-key evil.
An instant later, a hand grips at my shoulder, and I only get a split second to glance at the monster of my childhood before energy pulsates through my chest, throwing me into the air so quickly I don't even have time to scream. All I see is a blur of sky and pavement. All I hear is Fatty Tuna roaring like he's about to kill something.
Those sensations are rapidly replaced by a sense of weightlessness when an arm encircles my waist and another loops beneath my knees.
And then…I'm face to face with Broomstick Man, blindfold and all.
"Caught you." he cheers, chuckling lightly.
I blink slowly, still in a state of shock.
"You okay? You're as limp as a fish."
The man shakes me a bit while pointing out the noodle consistency of my legs and arms.
Eventually, I remember how to talk.
"P-put m-me down," I moan, inwardly cursing my wobbly voice. "You're making me nauseous."
Another bout of laughter drips out from his lips as he carefully sets me down on my feet, and he laughs even harder when I immediately lose my footing because of how much I'm still shaking.
"I suppose it was silly of me to assume you were a Curse User," he says inanely, his hands sliding over my forearms as he steadies me. "You're…a bit too delicate for that."
I don't know what made me say what I said next.
Perhaps it was the blood rushing to my head.
Perhaps it was the memory of this man preventing my access to sweets on numerous occasions.
Or maybe it was the realization that this buffoon had interrupted the single most important moment of my life.
Yeah…probably the last one.
"I'll delicately stab you if you don't let go of me right now, Broomstick Man."
A pregnant pause follows…
And in that long stretch of silence, I come to the sharp realization that this man might have the capability to kill me where I stand.
Threatening to stab him is...stupid.
"Oh?"
"Y-You heard me. I meant what I said! Unhand me!"
I'm doubling down on the idiocy at this point.
Broomstick Man, with that devilish smirk, tightens his grip on my arms as he leans forward. The gap between us shrinks until our faces are only inches apart.
I'm bracing for anything, namely death.
And somehow, I'm still not prepared for what happens.
"Nicknames already, sweetheart?"
He says it so flippantly, like we're in the middle of a romantic comedy or something.
I don't have words for the sheer audacity he just threw at me, and thankfully, a series of crashes diverts my attention from the ridiculous man to the street near the hotel. Through the fog I can see a faint outline of Fatty Tuna chasing the wraith down the road.
Broomstick Man releases me, his expression darkening.
"The big cat is your friend, right?"
I nod once. "Yeah. He is…"
Trailing off, I watch him raise his hand to the blindfold covering his eyes.
"I'll try not to hurt him then," he murmurs, turning away from me as he tucks the fabric down, away from his face. "Wait here."
He sprints into the fog, disappearing from sight.
…
The logical thing to do would be to listen to him and wait, but I stopped running on logic ten minutes ago.
Fatty Tuna is my responsibility. I'm not going home without him.
Furthermore, the monster responsible for my sister's disappearance just told me it didn't kill my sister. Immediately following that, it protected me by swatting me in the air, diffusing the misunderstanding that probably would have resulted in my death.
...
It doesn't make any sense.
...
Does...that creature actually feel guilt for what it did?
...
Is my sister really still out there somewhere...alive?
...
How can an answer to one question spawn so many others so quickly?
...
The only way to find out what actually happened to Angelica back then is to finish my conversation with that thing.
Releasing a sigh, I twist on my heel to peer at the back entrance of the Indigo Hotel. More than half of the door frame is missing and what's left of the glass doors lay strewn about the street in every direction. The guy even blew a hole into the stairway. How did he even...
…
Yeah, this is going to be a tall order with Broomstick Man on the case.
Withdrawing a small notepad and a pen from the inside pocket of my coat, I flip past my list of people to stab repeatedly with a rusty fork to start a new list as I follow after my demon cat and a super-powered womanizer.
Note to self: Learn Broomstick Man's name after this.
I close the notebook after jotting down the note, but then I think of another thing to add.
Make him buy you donuts too.
A/N: And that's the end of this chapter. This chapter, though a little difficult to write in places, was so much fun! Writing for JJK in general is just very fun for me right now. I hope it shows in the finished product. Stay tuned for more. Next chapter...oh dear I'm going to have to write a fight scene aren't I? Oh no...
We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Also, I wanted to take this time to mention that I also have a YouTube channel where I make content revolving around Anime, K-pop, video games, books, Biblical topics, and whatever else I feel like making . I am Lillymu961 on there and have recently posted original songs centered around JJK. I made a cover of Where Our Blue Is, the opening theme for the Hidden Inventory Arc, as well. Feel free to check out the channel and those projects if you wish. That is all for now. Best wishes and God bless you all.