Last chapter felt a bit short and I felt the need to clarify some more things. Today I had a bit more time and was inspired, so here is another chapter.

The water was scalding, but (Y/n) barely felt it.

She stood under the showerhead, hands braced against the tile as steam curled around her. The blood had long since washed away, swirling down the drain in thin, pink streaks, but she still felt dirty. Not physically—no, this was deeper than that.

She shut her eyes.

For a moment, she wasn't in the shower anymore.

She was back in that suffocating darkness, floating in the cursed energy she had absorbed. But she wasn't alone.

A voice whispered in her ear, fragmented, disjointed. Images flashed through her mind—memories that weren't hers.

A sunny afternoon at the beach. Her heart pounded as she reached for the woman beside her—except it wasn't her heart, not her hands. The memory pulled her deeper, blurring the lines between self and other. She felt the warmth of the sun, the nervous flutter in her chest as she stopped walking, dropping to one knee. A little red box in her palm—no, his palm.

Her breath hitched as a foreign presence coiled around her mind, seeping in, trying to merge with her own.

"No."

The voice grew louder, overlapping with itself—an echo of the man she had fought. His cursed energy hadn't just been absorbed; it had left an imprint, a piece of him desperately clinging to existence inside her.

This was different from the curse user in Zurich. Or was it because this one was stronger? She didn't just feel his memories—she felt him. Sometimes, even the woman's presence flickered in the background, but it was much fainter.

A sharp pulse ran through her body, and suddenly, the memories twisted—like something was pushing back.

(Y/n) gasped, her eyes snapping open.

She swayed slightly, gripping the slick tiles for support as her markings burned beneath her skin. She glanced down at her arms, at the faint outline of the marks barely visible beneath the steam.

They had been pulsating just now, but as she watched, they returned to normal.

Her breathing was ragged, but the foreign presence was gone. Pushed back, restrained—held in place.

Her markings. They must be helping her keep control…

A shaky exhale left her lips.

This absorbing ability was a result of the rite she had gone through, the one where she burned these marks into her flesh. She remembered reading in that old scroll about altering her soul and how the markings served as an anchor. Was it referring to this? Did they help keep her sane, her soul intact while she was being internally attacked by the cursed energy she had absorbed?

(Y/n) pressed her forehead against the cool tile, trying to steady herself. Should she tell Satoru about this? Would he be able to see something more with his Six Eyes?

She was done thinking and getting no answers.

The shower helped. At least, it was supposed to.

(Y/n) stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself as she caught her reflection in the mirror. Steam blurred her features, but her gaze lingered on the faint markings peeking through her damp skin. They looked normal now—stable.

She exhaled, trying to shake the unease curling in her stomach. The presence was gone, for now.

With slow movements, she dressed in the clothes Gojo had brought from her place—a loose shirt and shorts, comfortable enough to sleep in, though she doubted she'd get much rest tonight. Her body still ached from the fight, but the real exhaustion ran deeper, woven into her very being.

Padding barefoot into the living room, she found Gojo sprawled across the couch, flipping through channels mindlessly. He turned his head when he heard her enter.

His usual cocky grin was absent.

"How's the patient?"

(Y/n) sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. "Tired. Sore."

Gojo scooted over, patting the spot next to him. "Come here. Let's see how bad it is."

She hesitated only for a second before sinking down beside him. He reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as his fingers traced her arm, stopping at her wrist where the markings ended.

They were back to normal.

His lips quirked, but his sky-blue eyes glowed faintly as he examined her with his ocular skill. "You're not vibrating anymore."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "That's a weird way to say it, but yeah."

Well, it seemed like she couldn't hide it from him anymore.

Gojo leaned back against the couch, watching her closely. "You sure you're okay?"

She hesitated.

The shower had washed away the blood, but it hadn't erased what happened. The fight. The cursed energy trying to take over. The voice still lingering in the back of her mind.

But Gojo was waiting for an answer.

"…It's different from before," she admitted finally. "Zurich felt overwhelming. The memories made me feel sick to my stomach."

His gaze sharpened. "So you have control over it now?"

She swallowed as something clicked in her head.

It wasn't that she had more control now.

No, it was quite the opposite.

The first time, she hadn't needed to fight to keep dominance over herself. The memories had felt evil, even sickly. The curse user from Zurich had a twisted mind, and that was what had made her feel sick.

Gojo was still watching her, his usual playfulness absent. "Then why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

(Y/n) hesitated, turning her gaze down to her hands. "It's not the same this time."

He didn't press, waiting for her to continue.

She exhaled. "Back then, I felt like I was just… remembering somethings, some flashes and residual feelings, but now I can see his memories clearer." She rubbed at the markings on her wrist, almost absently. "This time, I felt like being attacked by his memories, sometimes even from the woman too."

Gojo's expression didn't change, but she could tell he was paying close attention.

(Y/n) clenched her fists. "It wasn't just memories. I could feel his presence inside me. His emotions, his thoughts. And for a moment, I wasn't sure if I was me anymore."

The words hung between them, heavier than she'd expected them to be.

Gojo clicked his tongue. "That's not good."

(Y/n) shot him a flat look. "Obviously."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. His eyes flickered as he examined her again, searching for something she wasn't sure even he could find. "And now?"

"…It's quiet." She frowned, fingers brushing over her markings again. "I think the marks are keeping me anchored, stopping whatever that was from taking over."

Gojo hummed. "Makes sense. I always thought that rite you went through was weird as hell."

(Y/n) gave him a tired glare. "Thanks for your insight."

He ignored her sarcasm, tilting his head. "And what happens if they stop working?"

She stiffened.

She hadn't considered that.

(Y/n) forced herself to meet his gaze. "They won't."

Gojo studied her for a moment, then sighed, leaning back against the couch. "I'd say 'let's test it' but I doubt Ieiri would let me."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "You're an idiot."

He grinned. "Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

Despite herself, (Y/n) felt the tension ease slightly. Even with everything that happened, he was still him. Although sometimes she didn't liked how far he pushed her to go with her abilities.

Gojo patted her knee. "Get some rest. We can figure this out in the morning."

(Y/n) nodded, though sleep felt impossible.

Because even if the presence was gone for now…

She had a feeling this wasn't over.