The Gojo Estate was quiet—but not with the hush of slumbering cities. This was a silence rooted in stone and history, the kind that settled deep into woodgrain and whispered through old trees. It wasn't absence of sound. It was presence of age and memory
Marek walked its winding stone paths, the soles of his sandals barely making a sound, hands tucked loosely into the sleeves of his robe
High, lacquered gates sealed off the outer world. Beyond them, layered barriers shimmered invisibly—woven in techniques centuries old, yet alive and watching. Not even birds crossed overhead without the estate's permission
Marek tilted his head slightly as he passed beneath a blooming sakura branch, eyes scanning the subtle hum of cursed energy that drifted through the garden air like mist
He passed the koi pond near the southern edge, where water glistened like polished glass. The koi, stirred lazily beneath the surface. Further west, rows of traditional storehouses stood in perfect alignment—each of them sealed with individual talisman, and further anchored into the foundation of the estate
A hawk feather drifted into his path. He caught it, absently twisting it between his fingers, 'they're vigilant of my movements', Marek concluded
Marek continued walking beneath the shaded eaves of the main hall, where the wooden panels creaked slightly in welcome, and paused at the center courtyard where stepping stones looped around a soft-carved pond. A breeze moved through the trees, gentle but cold. He stared into the water, eyes hidden behind the sunglasses Gojo had given him. Below the surface, the reflection wavered—not because of wind, but something deeper. Beneath the pond, hidden in plain sight, was the entrance. The water itself shimmered as a veil, and with a pulse of cursed energy, it parted. No splash, nor a babble. Just a door that wasn't a door
The tunnel descended at a steady angle, carved through rock. The air changed immediately. It was denser, and quieter
Each step Marek took sent a ripple through layered barriers, like rings across a still pond. The walls pulsed faintly with Gojo clan symbols—etched in curves and calligraphy older than any modern technique book
They called it the Pale Road
The path to the innermost archives, buried so deep and well beneath the Gojo Estate that even the Six Eyes couldn't casually peer into its depths. Only those granted passage by the Gojo Clan Head himself were allowed to cross
At the curve of the hallway—where stone met frost-marked tile—a figure waited
The remaining one of the Twelve Flames of Sanzai, the eternal guardians of the Gojo family. Created generations ago by a clan head whose name had long since been burned from records—but whom the family still referred to as Eien-no-Gojo. The Everlasting
Eien-no-Gojo had been the last wielder of the Six Eyes before Satoru Gojo. A legend who held infinity like a blade. His reign had shaped the modern Gojo clan into something untouchable. He created the Twelve Flames—guardian constructs forged from flesh and cursed armor, each one a Special Grade cursed tool of the highest order
Only a single one of the Twelve Flames remained
The others had been lost to time—shattered in wars between rival clans, or sacrificed in brutal stand-offs to halt cursed uprisings before they could swallow cities whole. One was torn apart during the Midnight Siege, when the Gojo Clan faced off against the Zenin's shikigami battalion. Another was detonated from within to collapse a barrier that had imprisoned half of Kyoto in eternal night. A third had vanished into the ocean, dragged down in a suicide mission to bind a Sea Curse that had grown too vast to exorcise
Each Flame had been a masterpiece: armor forged from flesh, bound to cursed energy with ancient sigils and bloodline vows
Now only one remained active—maintained by ritual, and reforged every few decades
It's name: Izan-Kagari, the Wing of Stillness
The special grade cursed tool was tall and draped in twilight-colored robes, with a mask that resembled a falcon's beak. Its' arms were wrapped in cursed wire, and Marek could feel the ambient vibration of a barrier trap ready to deploy the moment he moved wrong
Marek stood straight beneath its' gaze, as he unveiled the tailsman, Gojo gave him, "I've been given permission"
A long pause stretched—one breath, two
Ancient metal groaned like the floorboards of a shrine untouched by time. Dust curled from its' joints as it moved. First a tilt of the head, then a single step—deliberate enough to echo through the hollow corridor. It parted, and Marek continued walking the Pale Road after giving it, a respectful nod
The door to the archive was simple and unassuming. Made of old cedar, charred and sealed. He pressed the talisman to the center, and the barrier unwove itself
The doors opened and The Gojo Archives, were his to pursue
No torches, or candles burned here, yet the archives were lit in comforting light
Scrolls were placed in glass cases, and ancient books sat on obsidian shelves. The air felt layered with the residue of generations of intellect. Everything here had been sealed away for a reason
Marek let his eyes glow once more. The sharingan recorded every detail, as he began to read
In the first month, Marek never stopped reading
The room had no clocks, no windows, no sun or moon—just the constant thrum of knowledge pressing against his skull like low thunder. He stopped counting days after the first week. Time bent strangely down here, woven into the layers of barriers that insulated the space from the rest of the Gojo estate, and Marek preferred it that way
With his Sharingan, he memorized everything. Scrolls that flaked at the edges from age. Tomes stitched with cursed thread. Journals penned in spidery Gojo script, passed down from one Six Eyes user to the next, and sheets of loose parchment fluttered continuously being unfolded
Every word became part of him
He read until his vision blurred, and then kept reading. Read until even the ink patterns haunted his dreams
In the far corner of the archives sat a dumbwaiter—its wood dark with age, carved with a faded lotus sigil. Layers of talismans covered its frame, humming faintly. It was a warded link to the world above. Once a day, like clockwork—though Marek never knew the exact time—it would click open with a soft thunk, revealing a bento box wrapped in deep blue cloth. Steamed rice, grilled fish, tamagoyaki, miso, vegetables
Always warm
He would eat in silence, sitting cross-legged beside the desk that no one had used in years. Afterwards, he would place the empty container back into the box and close the lid. The box would be empty the next time he opened it
The archives held a bed—a simple frame with a thin futon, tucked beside a desk warped from years of ink stains and neglect. Marek slept there, curled beneath a thick blanket he found in an old chest. The scent of cedar and old parchment clung to everything
Some nights, he dreamed of floating diagrams. Of paper folding into birds, and of flames that whispered secrets
By the second month, Marek no longer resembled the figure who had first descended into the Gojo archives
His hair had grown out—longer, wilder, strands falling into his face in unruly waves. His robes, once neat and ceremonial, now hung unused on a wall peg in the far corner. He moved only in the soft black pants issued to him early in his stay, sleeves rolled, chest bare beneath the dim glow of the archive wards. His face bore the quiet weight of someone who had stopped caring how he looked—because every waking hour was reserved for something far greater. Knowledge
Every tome, every weathered scroll, every disintegrating page had been absorbed by his Sharingan—each character, each folded sigil, each diagram committed to memory with perfect clarity. He didn't just remember. He cross-referenced, studied, and dissected
Marek had not slept more than four hours in a row in weeks, and he hadn't spoken aloud in days, but he understood barriers now—not just as tools of defense or amplification, but as expressions of a sorcerer's intent and structure. His notes filled an entire stack of journals he crafted from scrap parchment. Diagrams; Reverse constructions; Conditional flowcharts; Vow reinforcement matrices, and entire trees of branching logic on how domain shells collapse, how Curtains override ambient visibility, and how Pure Barriers suppress cursed spirit emergence
The wooden dumbwaiter at the edge of the archive delivered his meals once a day. He had once written a quiet note and placed it beside the empty bento container—Toothbrush and washcloth, please
The next delivery came with both. A travel-sized toothbrush. A thin paste. A folded cloth that smelled faintly of rose water and clean cotton. He used them silently and returned them afterwards. Each morning, a fresh set would arrive
No servants came, and no eyes watched, but he was never truly alone in the archives, not with what lived in the pages
One shelf toward the sealed back corner held tomes too sacred to touch without proper care. Gifts from Master Tengen herself. Marek opened each gifted tome slowly, using cursed gloves when needed, and made notes—never tests, and never activation. He memorized the formation diagrams, the stacking layers of Bon Barriers, and the entwined harmonics needed to layer them onto pre-existing structures
He came to understand that barriers in this world weren't walls, they were territories
Each type reflected a philosophy of space and control
Curtains were veils, visual lies told to the world. Porous and targeted
Simple Domains were defensive flourishes—reactive spaces carved with desperate precision
Empty Barriers were canvases—zones of creation
Domain Barriers were the purest expression of self and sorcery, housing one's innate technique in a prison shaped like divinity
Pure Barriers—Tengen's legacy—were laws. Anchors of cursed geography, that protected Japan
Bon Barriers, rare and deadly, were compounded prisons—repurposed, evolved zones made possible only by manipulating the existing threads of Tengen's groundwork
Marek wrote until his fingers cramped. Drew until the charcoal smeared across his arms and cheekbones, and when he could no longer focus, he laid down on the stiff bed in the archive's corner, facing the stone ceiling—and dreamt of diagrams behind his eyelids
By the third month, Marek no longer walked the archives—he moved through them like part of the structure. Like a whisper stitched into the warded air
The journals he wrote in, had grown from a neat stack to a towering pillar beside his thin cot. His fingertips were permanently ink-stained, cut here and there by papyrus edges and dry binding threads. His black pants were smudged with graphite, powdered ash, and crushed minerals.
He was thinner now, with more edge
He had finished barriers. He had scoured every scroll on spatial manipulation, territory design, and binding vow theory. Now he pursued weapon making
The books he found in the third month weren't shelved like the others. They were sealed—bound in wax thread, often wrapped in iron clasps. One of them burned his hand when he picked it up. Another required cursed gloves to turn the pages, or the ink would crawl up his arm
These were the records of cursed tool creation—a craft older than the clans, older than even the current techniques of domain theory. Blades infused with vengeful spirits. Mirrors inscribed with geas-bound conditions. Arrows that curved through cursed fields like guided will. Needles that stored names
He couldn't forge anything here. Not without resources, without heat, or a forge; but he studied and sketched. Rewrote long-lost schematics into his own notation style
Then came the talismans. Thin sheets of cursed paper. He learned their symbology, and layering
He practiced drawing talismans over and over on blank paper—none of them activated in a sacred place like this, but all of them were correct in theory
——————————-x
The door to the Gojo archives hadn't opened in hundred and twenty-one days. Until now
It creaked. Not from disuse—barriers kept the wood fresh—but from hesitation, and standing in the doorway, bathed in the warm glow, was Gojo Satoru
He didn't step in immediately, he just stood there
Eyebrows raised behind his dark lenses, and hands in his pockets
Then he sniffed, "…Whoa"
His voice echoed through the stone and parchment silence, "smells like someone tried to invent cursed body odor"
From across the chamber, behind a towering pillar of hand-written journals, Marek stirred. He was hunched over his desk, charcoal smudged on his cheek, shirtless and wild-haired, looking more like a half-feral monk than a pre-teen sorcerer
His head lifted slowly, and his red eyes flicked toward the new presence, "Gojo?"
"Yes, Marek", Gojo said, taking a single step in and grimacing exaggeratedly, "your favorite mentor-slash-legal guardian-slash-only friend is here; you haven't hallucinated yet"
Marek blinked once. His Sharingan spun gently, slow and tired, "I know"
"Sure. I smell burnt ink, dead paper, and… what is that? Is that fish? Did the box give you old fish?"
"No, the food's always been fresh. I've been busy; didn't have time to clean"
"I can see that", Gojo said, sweeping a hand over the chaos, "you look like a cursed scholar hermit who forgot that soap exists. Which brings me to the real reason I'm here"
He pointed dramatically, "Get your notes. You're leaving the archives"
Marek blinked, "leaving?"
"Yup", Gojo stepped further inside, wincing at the state of the floor, "I let you play cryptkeeper for four months. That's enough, and you're starting to blend into the stonework"
"Besides", Gojo said, flashing a grin, "you reek. You're giving off 'haunted swamp hermit' vibes. We're in need of industrial soap, boiling water, maybe an exorcism with scented oils. This is a full-blown hygiene emergency"
Marek snorted softly, "okay", he said, stretching slowly, "let me collect my things"
"That's the spirit!", Gojo clapped once, then exaggeratedly coughed as a puff of dust rose,"and maybe burn your futon too"
——————————x
The water was hot. Not the scalding heat used to purge wounds or blister the senses—but the kind that softened the body slowly. Steam curled through the private onsen tucked at the edge of the Gojo estate
Marek sat with his back against the smoothed stone, arms resting on the edge, his legs stretched beneath the surface. His hair, wild and grown from months of isolation, floated gently like black ink in motion. The warm water clung to his skin, pulling the ache from muscles tightened by ink-stained focus and months of sleepless study
He hadn't realized how much he missed this. The quiet; The stillness; The safety
That thought hit him harder than expected
He felt safe
The realization almost startled him
He'd spent so long in environments that felt like cages, even when gilded. Born to two people who should've protected him—but instead taught him to mask, obey, and endure. Then came the League. Razors beneath his skin and a voice always asking: 'What are you willing to sacrifice to be perfect?'
Then the Light
Powerful, secretive, and never, ever safe
Everywhere he'd been before had trained him to survive with a blade ready, to look over his shoulder at all times. To sleep lightly, to speak less, and to never, ever grow attached; because attachments got you killed
But here…
Here, he'd fallen asleep at a desk with no trap on the door
Here, he'd eaten food from a wooden box left by invisible hands, trusting it wouldn't be poisoned
Here, Gojo teased him, Shoko patched him up, Ino bled beside him, and Ijichi nearly died for him
Somewhere along the way, Marek stopped bracing for betrayal
The steam shifted slightly as a breeze passed through the curtain that shielded the bath. Marek tilted his head back, eyes half-closed. His Sharingan wasn't active—but it didn't need to be. Not here
He let his thoughts drift. There was a part of him that whispered, stay. That maybe he'd found something better in this world. That maybe the Jujutsu world, as brutal and strange as it was, had offered him something his own never did
Peace
But then her name surfaced in his mind
Fiona
His sister, and the only family that mattered. He saw her face the day he found her in the memory of the despicable man
Marek clenched a hand beneath the water
He couldn't stay here—not when she was still out there. Not when the world he left behind was still fractured and unfinished
He wanted bonds. Real ones. He wanted to build something more than what he was made for, but he had to do it there—in the place he'd once written off as a prison of masks and expectation, because now he knew what it was supposed to feel like
Safe
It was the gift this world gave him
He wasn't done fighting. He would never be done fighting; but maybe—just maybe—he didn't have to do it alone anymore
Marek exhaled and slipped beneath the water for a moment
When he emerged, it felt like something had been rinsed away. Not dirt, or exhaustion
But doubt
He'll return for Fiona; Powerful beyond measure
—————————-x
The clink of scissors echoed gently in the sun-drenched courtyard. Marek sat on a low wooden stool, a pale blue cloth draped over his shoulders. His hair—long, matted in places, with the stubborn defiance of someone who hadn't touched a comb in months—was slowly being tamed by the careful hands of a young servant. She worked with quiet precision, and misting water. She carefully snipped around his jawline, and brushed stray strands from his cheek with the soft patience of someone who had cut nobility before
Gojo leaned against a wooden pillar, arms crossed, and a sly grin on his face as he lifted his phone and snapped another picture, "y'know", he said cheerfully, "I should make a before-and-after collage. Call it: 'Archives to Artform.' Maybe add a dramatic filter. Black-and-white, and a tragic violin track"
Marek, whose only response so far had been a long-suffering silence, finally spoke, "I will destroy that phone"
"No you won't", Gojo beamed, snapping another photo, "you're too emotionally stable now. Clean hair does that to people"
The servant stifled a quiet laugh
Marek muttered something under his breath, as she continued trimming behind his ears with professional efficiency
"You're gonna need to look the part, anyway", Gojo continued, "I've got your next assignment lined up, and with it, you're meeting someone with the same cursed technique as yours"
That caught Marek's full attention
Gojo straightened and tossed him a bottle of sunscreen, "her name's Mei Mei. Absolute professional, and deadly as hell. Stunning hair, and a very important bird-themed cursed technique"
"I paid top dollar for her", Gojo patted his own wallet with a dramatic sigh, "bribed her with international mission clearance, private jets, and a ten percent commission bump. She'll teach you everything she knows, and believe me; when it comes to weaponizing cursed birds? There's no one better"
He walked over, leaned against the stool Marek sat on, and ruffled the freshly cut hair, earning a swift glare for his trouble
"Oh, and you'll have a handler on-site", Gojo added, "teacher from Kyoto. Her name's Utahime, and she doesn't like me very much, but I find that endearing"
The servant finished her work with a final mist of water and a soft pat of the towel
"Better?", Gojo asked, mock-sincere
Marek adjusted the collar of his shirt, and lightly bowed to the servant, "Thank you"
—————————x
The Kyoto air was cooler than Tokyo's
Marek stepped out of the black car Gojo had arranged, his jacket light over his shoulders, his hair freshly cut, and his sunglasses sliding comfortably into place
He spotted a woman leaning casually against the temple gate
'Mei Mei', he instantly recognized
Her long silver-blue braid glistened like polished silk, her gaze calm and appraising. Her crows shifted in the air behind her; dozens in number
"So", she said, eyes running over him from hair to boots, "you're young Gojo"
Marek blinked once, and gracefully bowed, "Good Morning"
"Mm", she hummed, "he gave you his sunglasses"
She walked a slow circle around him, hands loosely clasped behind her back, and eyes half-lidded in scrutiny, "you've got presence", Mei Mei observed, "powerful already—or in the journey of becoming it. A tragic backstory, I'm sure; and you don't talk much", her lips curled into something sly, "Gojo's taste is alarmingly consistent"
Before Marek could respond, another voice cut in like a gust of wind through a paper screen, "Mei Mei, behave"
Utahime Iori stepped into view, robes sharp and untouched, her hair neatly pinned. Her expression, however, was already laced with long-suffering exasperation, "I just got here and you're already evaluating him like he's merchandise"
Marek turned towards her, lowering his head in a small, respectful bow, "Utahime-san", he said, voice quiet but sure, "it's an honor to meet you"
That made her blink. Once. Then her expression softened, "see?", she said, turning to Mei Mei with the ghost of a smile, "a kind boy. Clearly raised right"
Then—
"I'm personally raising him", Gojo's voice rang out from the edge of the stone stairs, as if it had been waiting for the perfect moment to disrupt something peaceful, "and aren't I just the best at it?"
He sauntered into view, one hand lazily waving as if to fan himself from all the compliments that hadn't actually been given
Utahime sighed so hard it might have been registered as a small curse itself
"Great", she muttered, "that explains the sunglasses"
"Hey", Gojo said, clearly unbothered, "he's thriving under my mentorship"
"Thriving?", Utahime arched a brow and folded her arms, "he's polite, focused, and respectful. You're going to ruin him"
Gojo clutched his chest dramatically, staggering back a step, "I would never! I'm a delightful role model"
Marek stood quietly between them, still as stone. His expression unreadable behind the dark lenses of the very sunglasses in question
Mei Mei, now lounging against the hood of the car, smirked, "don't worry, Utahime. If Gojo ruins him, we can always fix him. Or sell him; depending on the market"
Utahime paused, and her soft eyes landing on Marek, "don't let these two unhinged creatures lead you off the deep end"
"Too late", Gojo muttered
"Not helping", Utahime snapped
Gojo twirled dramatically on his heel, stepped in close to Utahime, and whispered in her ear, like he was letting her in on a sacred secret
Her brows shot up, "he hit what now?", Utahime asked, full of genuine shock
Gojo straightened with all the smug satisfaction of a man whose student had just rewritten history. He flung both arms wide, beaming like a proud dad at the Cursed Olympics, "my little genius hit Black Flash!", he declared to the sky, "Black. Flash. You realize how rare that is? Most sorcerers live, fight, and die without ever pulling it off. Not even once!"
He spun to Marek, throwing an arm around his shoulders like he was displaying a trophy
Utahime looked between them, blinking, "Wow"
"I know," Gojo said, all glowing self-satisfaction, "what can I say? Just being in my presence might've rubbed a little genius off on him"
Gojo ruffled his hair, and Marek batted his hand away
"Not to mention", Gojo added, finger up, dramatic pause timed perfectly, "he used Reverse Cursed Technique to save someone and heal himself right after"
Utahime groaned, rubbing her temples, "what is wrong with the Tokyo branch? Why do you all keep pumping out prodigies like they are a seasonal produce?"
Gojo leaned sideways with a smug grin, "it's the water, and me. Mostly me"
Mei Mei, stared at Marek as a crow fluttered to her shoulder, "well", she said at last, her voice calm and almost affectionate, "aren't you just a baby Special Grade?"
Marek furrowed his brow slightly, "that's not—"
"It is now", she interrupted smoothly, "you've crossed the threshold of freakish talent and entered the realm of being very expensive to kill. Congratulations"
Gojo sauntered over and slung an arm around Marek's shoulder with big brother energy, "and guess what else? He's got the same innate technique as you, Mei Mei"
"I know", Mei Mei said coolly, "you called me five days ago while I was in the middle of a mission and screamed something about 'baby bird prodigy' Then transferred a very satisfying amount of money to my account"
She turned to Marek and smiled faintly, "you're mine for the next stretch. I'll teach you everything about our technique—how to use it, fight with it, twist it into something people fear. Gojo paid the fee, and I'll deliver results"
———————-x
The black SUV cut through the winding road and climbed into the shadowed rise of the Yureizan Forest—an ancient stretch of woodland nestled in the mountains north of Kyoto, where the trees whispered old names and the air remembered blood
In the back seat, Marek sat silently besides Mei Mei, his sunglasses catching the occasional flash of sunlight through the trees
Mei Mei stretched out languidly with one leg crossed over the other, tapping something into her phone, and resting her other hand atop her axe's handle like it was a purse
In the passenger seat, Utahime adjusted the mirror. She looked far too put-together—nails perfectly manicured, clipboard tucked beside her water bottle, and eyes already scanning a tablet screen
The driver, humming a faint pop tune under her breath, was a blonde woman with a cheerful, zoned-out expression—Aimi, one of the assistant managers from Jujutsu HQ
Mei Mei finally clicked her phone off and looked up, "alright, darling chickadee", she said to Marek, "there's an old mountain legend about a villager up in these woods. Everyone thought he was just reclusive, maybe a little off"
She turned towards him, eyes narrowing with practiced drama, "he used to take his son out with him— a small kid, with a sweet, soft voice. The boy would wander to the edge of the forest trail and stop travelers with one excuse: 'Please help, I lost my dog', and the naive ones would follow"
A beat, and Mei Mei smiled, "none of them ever came back. Turns out, the father was the one who sent the boy to lure in his prey, and once the traveler walked deep enough into the woods, he'd take his old double-barrel and blow them apart, or worse, sometimes he would cripple them and then skin them alive"
Utahime glanced over her shoulder, "really painting the scene for the boy"
"I'm setting the tone", Mei Mei replied, "anyways; decades later, after the man died, his house got demolished; but in the last year, people started reporting sightings. Three dogs, and child calling from the woods. One report said they found a 'dead-end trail' where the trees had formed a hallway"
"Grade 1 vengeful cursed spirit?", Marek asked
"Already taken out by Jujutsu HQ last month", Mei Mei informed, "it was the kid, but there was no trace of the father. The reports haven't stopped, which means either they somehow failed to kill the boy…"
"Or there was another cursed spirit", Utahime muttered, looking out the window
Mei Mei nodded, "headquarters suspects a second spirit. Possibly the father, or an imitation. Grade 1 potential"
Utahime added, "I'm here as backup; in case it all goes off the rails"
Up front, Aimi turned the wheel gently, her voice floating back like sugar, "we're twenty minutes out"
There was a lull, just for a moment
Then Mei Mei stretched luxuriously and added, like it was no big deal, "you know this mission was originally assigned to Gojo Satoru, right?"
That made both Utahime and Marek turn
Marek shifted in his seat, sunglasses hiding a blink, "he gave it to you?"
"Oh yeah", Mei Mei informed, "this mission paid a lot of money and I acquired it from Gojo; as a sort of deal for teaching you"
The tires crunched softly over loose gravel as the road narrowed, trees crowding close on both sides like silent watchers. The chatter from earlier faded, replaced by the muffled hum of the engine and the gentle rustle of wind through pine
Aimi's hands were steady on the wheel, the car gliding with a kind of practiced grace
"We're here," she said at last, her voice hushed without trying to be
The car slowed to a crawl and finally stopped at a crooked clearing where the gravel gave way to packed earth
Marek stepped out of the SUV first, and Utahime followed with a tired sigh, tablet in hand
Mei Mei moved slower, not out of caution, but out of total comfort. Her long braid swung behind her as she reached into the trunk and—without drama—pulled out a small, reinforced crate
Inside: crows
Six of them. Jet-black and restless.
Their beady eyes flicked towards Marek and he looked down at them, with interest
"Come here", Mei Mei instructed, voice low but direct
Marek stepped closer
She knelt beside the iron cage, a gloved hand resting lightly on its rusted edge. Inside, a single crow paced and hissed at the corner—agitated
"These aren't just birds", Mei Mei explained, "they're vessels. Extensions of us. Our cursed energy flows through them. To truly control them, to command them like limbs—you have to embed a piece of yourself inside each one"
She stood slowly, walking toward the tree line with the same quiet authority she'd wielded a moment ago. Above, nine shadows cut across the fog—nearly invisible against the misted canopy
She didn't whistle, didn't gesture, didn't even shift her stance; still, the crows came
Like swords drawn silently from scabbards of sky, they descended
One landed on her shoulder. Two gripped the sleeves of her arms. The rest gathered at her feet, motionless save for the slow shimmer of cursed energy flickering across their feathers
Behind his sunglasses, Marek's Sharingan spun
He saw it—not just what she did, but how
Her cursed energy didn't radiate outward like most—it folded inward, latching itself to the core of her soul. From that anchor, it split into each bird. Each crow was bound to a specific frequency of her cursed presence. He could see the threads—thin, exact lines of will, like a symphony's score written in cursed script
Mei Mei was still watching the treetops, "if you want to master this technique", she said, "form a binding vow. Feed them cursed energy, and ask for their lives in return. Give them purpose, and they'll die for it"
Then she turned, eyes locking on his like the edge of a blade, "that's the price, and that's our power"
She walked to the clearing's edge, where the trees darkened and the fog thickened, and Marek, just a few steps behind, observed something within her shift
She didn't expand her presence. She fractured it
One-third. One-third. One-third.
Her cursed energy split cleanly, evenly—three pathways, each flowing into three birds. In return, her perception tripled
She commanded all nine crows, but saw through the eyes of three
Each crow carried a fraction of her presence, and in turn, fed her raw awareness—vision, altitude, spiritual pressure, and motion cues. A smooth three-way stream of perception. It was a stunning display of synchronized identity
Marek tracked the threads. The way her cursed energy coiled gently around each crow like a tether of breath
Then, without speaking, Marek reached down, unlatched the cage of the six birds, and gently poured his cursed energy into them. He initiated a binding vow in silence, and the birds accepted without hesitation. He lifted his hand slightly, and they launched themselves into the air. His six crows spiraled, wings slicing the wind—and he was in all of them. Instantly
Marek stiffened just slightly. Not from pain, rather shock, since it felt… natural
'Why is this so easy?', he questioned
The thought came like a whisper. His mind adjusted effortlessly to six points of view, three at different altitudes, two trailing behind, one cutting a tight loop just above the treeline
'Maybe', he thought, 'it's because I've done this before'
Not like this—not with cursed energy. Not with birds, but with drones. Back in another life, where he used to guide tactical UAVs like this—ten screens at once. Toggling feeds, and calculating movement
Utahime's voice cut through the silence, "wait… six?"
She stepped forward, brow furrowed
Even Mei Mei's smile faltered, "I never share my perception with more than four crows at a time, never been able to"
He kept the birds steady—swooping gently through the upper air, circling them in slow, smooth arcs. His cursed energy didn't flicker
He finally spoke, "as a kid… I used my teachnique on a single crow. I'd tap into it and watch families play in the park. Moms pushing strollers. Dads with snacks. I just liked the feeling of flying"
His remembrance came to a sudden stop, when he saw them, from above: Three figures, bounding low across the forest and just past the treeline. They were fast and four-legged
Their forms glistened with cursed energy, their muscles bulged too wide beneath torn fur, and their eyes burned with violet-red rot
Marek informed, "cursed dogs. Three. Forty meters north, and closing in fast"
Mei Mei's eyes lifted towards her crows, "I take down two, and you take out the remaining one"
"You're not just looking through your crows anymore. You're in control. Aim, drop, and detonate the cursed energy you stored in them; on impact. They'll instinctively focus the cursed energy around their beak and chest"
Utahime had already slipped her hidden knife between her fingers
Marek's gaze lifted—then focused. He reached out with his cursed energy— issuing a directive. The six birds folded in formation. A crow dropped from above like an arrow. Their wings tucked, and their speed exponential.
The cursed dog looked up too late
WHAM—!
The crow struck the dog directly on the back of the neck—the cursed energy discharged mid-impact, a concussive snap of force that bent the beast's spine backward. It crumpled with a yowl and a spray of black ichor
Marek felt the impact. Not pain—but a shuddering echo in his ribs, like he'd fallen with the crow. It wasn't just sight anymore, rather a physical connection. Like part of him had dropped from the sky and hit something real
Mei Mei praised with a grin, "good job"
The forest that had gone quiet again —- too quiet
Even the crows, Marek kept circling overhead weren't catching additional movement
They stopped by a twisted cedar, its bark warped with old curse burns
Utahime knelt beside a felled tree nearby, and examined it. Bark peeled, like something small had brushed by and passed through—not stomped, or clawed, "something passed here. Child-sized"
Mei Mei narrowed her eyes towards the deeper path ahead. Her crows circled once, then veered slightly west
"The father never had dogs", Mei Mei contemplated
Utahime turned to her, "you're saying the boy's still alive?"
"I'm saying", Mei Mei said, stepping forward slowly, "we were sent to hunt a spirit that was already eliminated—or so we were told"
Utahime stood, "then either HQ was wrong… or they lied"
Mei Mei's eyes flicked back over her shoulder. Her voice calm, but edged, "no one lies about a confirmed exorcism, Utahime. Not unless they're trying to die in paperwork hell"
"Then how did they get it wrong?"
"Because the sorcerers sent here thought they finished the job", Mei Mei concluded, "they saw what looked like a kill—maybe the boy dissolved, maybe he burst apart. Either way, they believed it. They walked away thinking it was over"
Her braid swung like a loose noose, "if the cursed spirit was clever enough to fake its' own death then—-"
"Its' a special grade", Utahime finished
Marek noticed another presence, and went still, turning his head to towards the newcomer
In the distance, a child's voice echoed, "have you seen my dog…?"
They crested a slope and stepped into a clearing where the fog ran in ribbons. Thin streams of white that avoided the grass in perfect lines; and in the center stood a pale, barefoot boy
He wore a faded shirt two sizes too big, and shorts torn at the knee. His arms hung limp at his sides, and his brown hair fell in messy, uneven strands across his eyes. He looked no older than eight
"Excuse me…", he said quietly, looking up at them, "I lost my dog. Could you help me find him? He's my beast friend and we play catch everyday"
Utahime froze, "…he's talking."
"Yeah", Mei Mei said darkly, "that's a problem"
Marek stepped slightly ahead of them, gaze steady, "what does it mean?"
Utahime's voice was clipped, "curses usually repeat one or two phrases. A curse that talks is intelligent, and self-aware"
"Curses don't talk unless they've evolved", Mei Mei added as her fingers tightened on her axe, "this isn't a Grade 1. Its' cursed energy output is too large for that. We're looking at Special Grade"
The boy smiled softly, "please, he's a good dog. He won't bite"
Marek's Sharingan spun to life beneath the tinted curve of his sunglasses. The cursed energy around them had thickened, like humidity before a storm
Across the mist-veiled clearing, the boy arms moved slowly, and his cursed energy shimmered, then condensed. From the space around him, began to take shape
The first dog was born from nothing. Black fur, and exaggerated limbs. Eyes glowing yellow and wrong, as if someone had tried to remember a dog from a nightmare and got the details almost right. Its' body peeled into reality with a wet, glitching sound like meat sliding into skin
Then a second
Then a third
Marek didn't blink as his sharingan tracked everything—the cursed energy's spiral pattern, the way it flickered at the joints and core before solidifying
'He's forming the dogsfrom cursed energy alone', Marek studied
The boy turned slowly, "help me", he repeated, stepping forward
Mei Mei raised her axe, "back up"
Marek tilted his head, his sharingan deactivating
The dogs barked in unison and then lunged—spittle streaking the air, and claws flashing like daggers. The ground trembled beneath their weight
Mei Mei moved first
She drew the weapon strapped across her back in a blur of motion—a long, black-handled battle axe, forged for cleaving curses down to the bone. It whistled as it cut the air, and then slammed into the first dog with enough force to split the creature down the middle
Black ichor splashed, evaporating midair
Another cursed dog leapt from the side
Mei Mei turned, and drove the blade into its jaw, shattering the skull. She pulled free and spun once, splitting a third in half as it tried to flank her
"They're endless!", Utahime shouted, backing, and brutally kicking dogs into trees, "cut the boy off and they'll collapse. Until then…"
Marek leapt over a lunging dog, twisting mid-air, planting his foot on its back, and launching off with enough force to crack the soil. The cursed dog hit the ground tumbled, and dazed
Marek flared his cursed energy, and like missiles, his crows attacked. The first crow hit the ground beside him, in a flash of black feathers and cursed force, it exploding outward like a pressure mine. The dogs yelped and scattered back. The other dived-bombed dogs, killing them
Marek blurred forward—cursed energy flowing through his arms and legs, reinforcing every tendon. A dog came from the left. He ducked, slipped beneath the lunge, drove his elbow into its ribs hard enough to send it flying into a tree
Another lunged at his back. He twisted and delivered a backfist crack to its jaw. The beast crumpled. A third cursed dog leapt at him from the front—this one faster, heavier, dripping with more cursed pressure than the rest. Marek stepped into it
CRACK
He grabbed the beast mid-air, spun, and slammed it into the earth with the weight of a falling comet. Dust shot up. The dog didn't move again
Across the field, Mei Mei roared, driving her axe into the neck of a dog twice her size. Her crows dive-bombed any who got too close
"Don't get comfortable!", she called out, having used crow perception, mid-battle, "more coming from the north!"
Marek turned slightly, and flicked his hand. The remaining crows shifted direction, eyes red, and wings spread wide as they began to circle the incoming threat
Hundreds of dogs
A snarling, shambling masses of teeth and corrupted energy, birthed like thought-forms by the cursed boy's will
Marek and Mei Mei stood shoulder to shoulder
"Too many", Mei Mei smirked
"He's constantly creating more", Marek said
"We need to change the rhythm"
Behind them—
Utahime clapped her hands
A rush of wind swept outward in a perfect radius. A gentle cursed energy rose in the air, "Solo Forbidden Area", Utahime's voice sung, and the moment hit Marek like a snap of lightning. He felt his cursed energy capacity and output increase
He nodded his head in gratitude, and then moved
The dogs came fast, and Marek slipped through the teeth. A black hound lunged—wide maw, and crackling breath. Marek ducked under its bite, planted his left foot, and turned his entire core through a short right hook to the jaw
BlackFlash#1
The universe cracked around his knuckles
Space buckled, cursed energy flared, and the dog exploded in midair; scattering into bits as Marek whipped through the follow-through without pause
The second came from the right, and Marek leapt, and inverted his body like a tight coil as he spiraled overhead and landed behind it. His foot snapped out, low and sharp, heel-first into the base of its skull
Black Flash #2
The impact was loud
Cursed energy rippled out, severing the dog's neck in a spray of black blood
Another dog leapt from above, and Marek didn't bother looking. He dropped to his back, bent one knee, and kicked upward with a reinforced shin. The cursed energy spiked from his heel in a detonation
Black Flash #3
The dog shattered, as Marek rolled to his feet in the same motion, catching a fourth hound mid-sprint
This one was fast. It dove straight for Marek's throat, with its' jaws wide
Marek exhaled, and time folded in around him. He stepped forward, leaned into the dog's charge, and drove an open-palm strike into its chest, cursed energy laced his fingers, and just as they hit flesh—
Black Flash #4
The explosion was internal, like thunder inside a tomb
The cursed dog stopped midair, and then crumbled like wet ash
Four in a row
Utahime gasped from the distance, "That was—!"
Mei Mei's eyes glinted, "four Black Flashes, that's Nanami's record"
The remaining dogs hesitated now, Marek stood at the center of the clearing, smoke curling from his knuckles, and his breath measured, "send more", he threatened, "they won't make it, either"
Despite the warning, the dogs kept coming
Sprinting on all fours
A dog leapt at his chest—Marek spun mid-stride, caught its neck with one hand, and used its momentum to swing it in a brutal arc over its' head, and slammed it into the another one with a wet crunch. Both dogs dropped like sacks
One snapped at his side, Marek dropped low into a crouch, planted one hand, and twisted his body—scissoring his legs to sweep the cursed beast's feet clean out from under it. He sprang up into a full flip, caught the falling dog mid-air, and kneed it in the ribs so hard it folded around him
Crack
Two more charged him from opposite flanks
Marek ducked a bite, slid beneath the second, then cartwheeled—not to escape, but to gain air. At the peak of the arc, he twisted, flipped upside down, and drove both heels down into the skull of the dog beneath him with reinforced cursed energy
It died before it could whimper
Three more moved towards him, fast and synchronized
He dove towards them, and as the first one lunged—Marek used it's back as a springboard, pushed off, twisted midair, and caught the second one mid-leap by the jaw—dislocating it with a wrenching snap. His other elbow came down on the first like a hammer on its neck, and it dropped limp
The third nearly sank its teeth into his side, but Marek threw his entire weight sideways, spinning horizontally in a roll and landing side-first on the beast's back. He dug his fingers into its spine, cursed energy flowing into the vertebrae like lightning, and ripped it off
The dog thrashed once, and went still
They kept coming. A dozen now, so he moved faster
Marek leapt into the swarm—Elbows. Knees. Palms. Fingers. He fought like a machine crafted in a war god's forge
He spun, caught another with a rising elbow, dropped low into a sweep—pivoted on one hand, and flipped forward into a heel drop that shattered the spine of a lunging dog
Every movement flowed into the next, and all the while—his expression never changed
Marek was focused in a forest echoing with broken howls
Mei Mei paused, eyes fixed on Marek as he tore through the cursed animals with brutal precision, "he fights like someone who was never given the option to lose"
Utahime's gaze didn't waver, "he's miles ahead of Aoi Todo"
A howling cursed dog leapt for Marek's throat. He stepped back, raised his hand—
And a massive axe blade came down beside him with a deafening CRASH, splitting the beast in two before it touched him
Steel cleaved through animal and Marek didn't flinch. He just pivoted, using the wake of Mei Mei's swing to spin-kick another beast square in the ribs—sending it flying into two more behind it. They crumpled in a tangle of cursed limbs
"About time", Marek muttered
"I was watching", Mei Mei replied coolly, lifting her axe from the bisected corpse, "you looked like you were having fun"
Mei Mei carved a wide arc, her axe singing through the mist. Marek ducked beneath it without hesitation, slipping into the blindside of a cursed dog and delivering a brutal uppercut under its jaw—reinforced with cursed energy. It died on impact
One came for Mei Mei's back—Marek grabbed it by the hind leg, yanked, and flung it into her rising blade. It split midair
She didn't even look back
The two of them moved like threads of the same needle—his taijutsu weaving through her heavy cleaves. When she stepped forward with a strike, Marek was already moving into her blind spot, fists crashing into cursed ribs before the next blade swing landed
Crunch. Crack. Split
Every motion was a kill
Marek vaulted over her shoulder, landed in a crouch, and drove his fist down into a cursed dog's spine. The ground cracked
She leapt forward, axe raised, and bisected three in a single swing
Marek caught one of the dogs by the snout, twisted, and used its own momentum to hurl it into the air—
Mei Mei jumped, and split it in two mid-flight
The rain of cursed blood hit the dirt, forming puddles
The clearing, once a storm of snarls, began to fall silent. Mei Mei turned slightly, wiping the blade clean. Marek stared ahead, scanning the treeline with narrowed eyes
"…Fewer", he observed
She nodded, "the cursed spirit is tiring"
A gunshot rang out
Crack—!
A cursed bullet screamed through the clearing, warping the air it passed
Mei didn't see it coming, but Marek had
He lunged forward, hooked an arm around her waist, and yanked her off her feet, just as the cursed shot blew through the space where her heart had been
Both Marek and Mei Mei landed beside Utahime, as the bullet tore a chunk out of a tree, erupting with a sharp pop and splintering bark in every direction
Utahime, half-staggered, raised her eyes, "What was that—?!"
Bang
Another shot
This one arced sideways, like a curveball
Marek dropped low, grabbed Utahime by the shoulder, and with a grunt, heaved her into the air—just enough to clear the path of the cursed shot
He followed her up with a burst of cursed energy in his legs, vaulting off the ground, and all three landed in a tree, cracking a branch as Marek touched down on one foot
Before he could breathe—
Crack!
Another cursed round
Straight at the branch
Marek threw both women off the tree, and dived behind them as the cursed round obliterated the branch mid-fall
They tumbled through the air
Marek twisted mid-descent, angling himself down first, and landed on a lower branch, knees bending, absorbing the entire fall with a curse-reinforced slide across bark
Mei Mei grunted in frustration as they landed, "I can't see the shot"
"His shots travel faster than a regular bullet", Marek informed, "it's not a shot, the hunter wants seen or dodged"
'Limitless Potential at work here', Marek concluded, 'my eyes in their base form are already enhanced'
Another blast cracked through the silence—this one missed entirely, ripping through the branches a few meters away in a thunderclap of cursed pressure and splintered wood
Mei Mei rolled her shoulders once, clicked her tongue, and whispered, "crow perception's up", one eye going half-lidded, her cursed energy syncing with her birds in real time, "a second cursed spirit, and he's moving northeast, behind a ridge. We've got one minute before he circles back and gets line of sight"
She turned, already hopping to the closest branch, "follow me, and stay low. We cut wide through the ridge, fast and quiet"
They vanished into the forest, and high in the boughs, hidden among leaves thick with damp and rot
Soon, they found cover—a hollow carved into a massive, timeworn tree. Marek's back pressed to the trunk, muscles still humming from the last jump. Mei Mei leaned low beside him, eyes narrowed and half-lidded. Utahime knelt across, in a graceful seiza
Below them, the forest had gone strange. No wind, or rustle. Just the sound of footsteps, and the occasional shots. Suddenly the boy's voice rang out, "sniff them out", he instructed gently, almost lovingly, "find them for father"
Marek was comfortable in the shadows as three dogs passed beneath. Then six. Then ten
"I'll engage the father", Utahime whispered, voice low, "I keep him busy, and you get twenty seconds to kill the boy"
Marek turned towards her, "you can't even see the shots"
"I don't need to see the bullet", she said, expression tight, "if I never give him time to pull the trigger"
"Bold", Mei Mei declared, "but I tried killing the hunter with bird stike, but he's too fast for it. Now, he's killed all the crows in the sky, in retaliation. I'm not sure where they are"
"Where were they last?", Utahime asked
"North ridge", Mei Mei said without missing a beat, adjusting her grip on the axe, "just past the withered torii gate. That's where the boy split off"
Utahime's expression tightened, "then I'll go find the hunter. You two follow the boy's voice. He hasn't shut up since the shots started—yapping commands at the dogs like it's a game. End it"
She vanished into the trees with silent footfalls, and robes fluttering
Mei Mei exhaled and turned to Marek, "you heard her"
They ran, not quietly, or stealthily, but with intent
Marek and Mei Mei blazed through the forest, their boots carving furrows into damp earth, dodging roots, and tearing through branches. Above them, the sky had turned to a dull gray, and the trees pressed in tighter, like they were warning them to stop
They chased sound anyway
"Find them my darlings~"
The boy's voice echoed ahead—high, lilting, sing-song
Every few meters, a cursed dog launched from the shadows
"Left!" Mei Mei barked, already swinging. Marek pivoted hard, dropping into a low slide beneath a leaping dog. He popped up in one fluid motion, spun, and slammed his palm into the dog's flank, smacking it into a broken mess against a tree. Another came from behind Mei Mei, and she sliced it in half
They didn't stop moving
The boy's voice grew louder, "Father wants them now"
Marek frowned as he noticed something off in the rhythm. He threw an arm out in front of her, "wait", and launched himself into the clearing. Mei Mei followed
She saw Marek crouched beside a bush, jaw clenched, "it's a dog," he said quietly
The thing in the clearing raised its head and then grinned, wide and full of human teeth
It lunged, at Marek but the boy just stepped forward and punched a clean, cursed energy-laced strike, and the mimic crumbled, body folding into black ash without a sound
Mei Mei blinked, "Seriously?"
Then her expression shifted, "Utahime", she turned, "she's walking into a fight with two special grades"
Without another word, they ran
Branches whipped past as Marek and Mei Mei tore through the undergrowth, boots muted against moss and twisted root
"Utahime's can't hold two special grades?" Mei Mei muttered as she leapt over a fallen log, "I'm about to lose another friend"
"Down!", hands grabbed them—hard. Marek almost bit off the offending hand but let himself be dragged away by the collar, when he realized who it was
They were both dragged bodily into a thicket, crashing through branches before tumbling down a shallow, moss-lined ditch veiled in creeping vines and old, worn stones
They hit the earth hard enough to rattle bone. Marek rolled and came up, relaxed, but Mei Mei's axe was halfway out when—
"Wait! It's me!", Utahime called
Disheveled and hair half-loose from its pin, but, thankfully, not hurt
"The hunter spirit started talking too loudly", she said, already wiping her brow, "constantly, y'know, like he wanted me to hear him. I knew it was a setup, so I hid instead"
Mei Mei gave a slow exhale, "alright, not bad, Kyoto. Maybe you do deserve a share of the mission"
Utahime shot her a sideways look, "I'm a salaried employee, Mei Mei"
"Tragic", Mei Mei said, almost sympathetically
Marek straightened, brushing moss from his sleeve. His voice was analytical, "the mimicry was flawless. That dog back there matched the boy's cursed energy perfectly. Even the cadence of his speech, almost fooled my instincts. That's amazing"
Utahime whistled low, "Maybe stop praising the cursed spirit and start thinking about how to kill it"
Crunch. Footsteps heavy and deliberate
Dragging, like something dead remembering how to walk. Each step sounded wet. Then came the voice, rasping, "three rats in the hollow," the hunter breathed
They turned to see a a corpse posed for its final photograph. His face was no longer fully human. Skin hung from his skull in patches, slick and peeling, as if boiled halfway off. One eye was missing; the socket black and moldering. The other stared unblinking. His lips drew back into a rictus grin, exposing rows of crumbling teeth—more than a human should have
The shotgun across his shoulder pulsed, and twitched. Veins crawled up the barrel like roots. Parts of his coat were fused to his skin, and his boots were soaked red. He reeked of damp soil, blood, and rotten swamp
"I see you now", the father spoke again, bringing his hands together, and twisting them inward. The gun-hand crossed over the heart, and the flat hand clasped it like closing of a coffin
He bellowed: "Domain Expansion…Deadlight Holler"
There was no dramatic crack, no shattering sky. Just a wet rupture, like a stomach splitting open
The forest disappeared, and they were standing inside a cabin, or what used to be one. The walls were made of soaked pale wood, its grain swollen like flesh that had been steeped too long in stagnant water. Nails jutted like teeth from every corner, and the wallpaper peeled in long, wet ribbons. The ceiling creaked then dripped
Dark water pooled around their ankles. It smelled like mold, fermented blood, and old teeth
The floorboards screamed. Faces—human, but distorted—were trapped beneath the floorboards, their mouths agape, whispering things in a language that was almost Japanese. Their breath fogged the planks and their fingers tried to reach through the cracks
Marek's sharingan had already snapped open beneath his sunglasses—burning a deep, liquid crimson. His breath caught in his throat as he took in every single detail. It was horrible, yet beautiful in its creation. He saw the way cursed energy wrapped around the space like skin stretched over a screaming body. The domain pulsed, thick and wet, every board in the cabin held together with intent, and rot
This was a Domain, and it was alive
'A domain is the purest form of self expression'
Marek had already achieved an incomplete domain and now he had witnessed one with a barrier
His attention was yanked by the grinning hunter across the warped room
"Welcome to my home", he smiled, lifting his squelching gun, "in here? Every shot hits"
"New Shadow Style: Simple Domain", two voices echoed
Marek moved on instinct. His sharingan broke down the exact way the cursed energy split from Mei Mei and Utahime's bodies, rippling out in a perfect radial layer of defense. His fingers moved in precise, learned motion. He saw it all. The math, the art, and the motion
A shield within a slaughterhouse
He copied it—flawless. Cursed energy bloomed, and a third ring flared
"New Shadow Style: Simple Domain"
Three of them stood, isolated in their own light, relatively safe in a Special Grade's domain. Then Utahime moved, vanishing in a burst of cursed speed
The hunter fired. The gun didn't roar, rather hummed—a single, vibrating note of certainty, like a funeral bell rung just once. The cursed bullet tore across the room, bending midair, curving towards Urahime's heart. It didn't travel in a straight line—it simply found her
Marek's eyes widened behind his sunglasses, 'No. That's not a bullet. That's a verdict'
Even if she dodged—it would turn; if she blocked—it would tear through, if she destroyed the bullet—the domain would recreate it
'A domain…', Marek thought, fists trembling, 'can only be overruled by another domain'
The cursed bullet was nearly upon Utahime
Marek raised his right hand; middle and index fingers outstretched. Thumb pressed to the ring finger, as the others curled in
"Domain Expansion", he whispered, like a secret slipped into a grave, "Morrigan's Murder"
The crow's claw
The third eye
The sign of remembrance and ruin
A pulse of cursed energy snapped outward, and the world convulsed
The cursed cabin warped first. The floorboards curled up like rib bones clawing free from damp earth. Thorned vines split the floorboards, and from their roots, gravestones burst upward—crooked, and etched with names. Windows didn't just shatter—they unbroke, glass flowing in reverse before splintering away. The walls twisted into tree trunks, and above them, the ceiling dissolved
In its place: a sky— the color of bruise and ink, where violet clouds sailed
And then, the crows came
Ten
Thousand
Million
Their eyes glowed crimson, and their wings cut air like razors. Feathers blacker than forgotten sin. They didn't just fly—they swam through the sky like blood through water
Each carried more than death; they carried memory
The Hunter's jaw clenched, "what the hell is this—"
The crows screamed, and with that scream came visions
One world where he died alone
Another where his son slit his throat
One where he never killed anyone
One where he begged for forgiveness—and got it
They crashed into him like waves of molten glass, and he lived them with mouth agape
The crows attacked his still form. They dive-bombed him— bodies bursting on impact. Feathers sliced skin, and talons clawed at his thoughts. One tore through his memory of his wife, as another pecked apart the first time he held his son
From the ground—by the roots of a headstone—rose the echo of Wotan
He lifted a hand, and lightning screamed from the violet sky. The Hunter screamed with it
The Hunter finally fell to his knees, as the domain took away everything
They took his cruelty
His rage
His justifications
His last dream
His worst moment
When nothing remained of him, his form unraveled—and in his place, a grave rose quietly from the earth
Its' tombstone bore the symbol of a rusted shotgun. Another memory, now immortal. Another echo that would forever dwell in the bloody twilight of Morrigan's Murder
—————————-x
The Domain collapsed, and the Yureizan Forest returned
Marek stood, his shoulders slightly sagged in relief
"…Well", Utahime muttered, brushing dirt from her sleeve, "that was the most horrific thing I've ever seen"
"Agreed", Mei Mei said casually, though her eyes hadn't left Marek since the domain faded, "remind me to raise my rates if I have to babysit you again"
Marek smirked
Utahime's voice came in, frustrated, "not done yet"
Mei Mei's smile dropped, "the boy"
The three of them stood at the forest's edge, half-shrouded in mist
Utahime crossed her arms, tense, "this is ridiculous. Those cursed dogs can mimic his cursed energy and voice? How the hell are we supposed to track him if everything sounds like him?"
Mei Mei leaned against a tree, "welcome to misdirection through cursed biology. It's smart"
Utahime huffed. "The forest is too big for guesswork"
"The hunter's killed every black bird", Mei Mei kicked away a small stone, "we need to find and kill the cursed spirit before it decides to leave this forest"
Marek didn't join the conversation. His gaze stayed distant, eyes narrowed in quiet thought. He wasn't ignoring them—he was elsewhere, buried deep in reflection, replaying the day with surgical focus
"He created them from nothing", he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "just cursed energy. No base matter, or corpses"
He raised his hand. His cursed energy pulsed outward, from his fingertips, the dark energy spiraled inwards, folding into itself like breath into lungs, and twisted into shape
First one. Then two. Then four. Then six.
Crows
Creations born entirely from Marek's cursed energy. They shimmered like oil in moonlight, wings twitching, feathers sleek, a glint of red in their eyes—
Sharingan
Marek exhaled slow, and steady. His cursed energy flared in a single, pulsing wave, and the red glow in each crow's eye flickered, and vanished
Sharingan: Deactivated
Marek lifted his hand again—fingers steady, and movements smooth
Another crow, snapped into place
Then another. And another.
Within seconds, thirteen more joined the others—slick feathers, glinting talons, a trace of red in their eyes before Marek dismissed the sharingan again with a subtle flare of cursed energy
Utahime noticed Marek's doing, and blinked in disbelief, "Mei Mei, can you create crows as well?"
"No", Mei Mei shook her head, "he learnt it from the cursed spirit. Saw the technique once, and copied it"
The birds launched, streaking into the sky like black arrows loosed from a silent bow
"They'll tear through every cursed dog in the forest", Marek said calmly, eyes following their ascent, "and flush the spirit out of hiding. It won't have anywhere left to run"
——————————-x
The crows led them to the silent clearing. Around them, the last of the cursed dogs lay in smoldering heaps, and among the corpses, stood the boy. Blood smeared his chin, and his cursed energy flickered in broken waves, sputtering like a candle in the rain
Marek stepped forward, sharingan active, as the cursed threads beneath the boy's skin coiled inward, tense and ready to snap
The boy looked up, and screamed. The clearing rippled as cursed energy burst outward. The cursed spirit's bones cracked, limbs twisted with a sickening crunch. Claws tore from his hands, and his jaw snapped wide and kept going. Muscles writhed under his skin like worms, his skin split, and his tongue lengthened
A low growl rumbled from his throat; deep, guttural, and canine
Utahime steadied herself, "…you've gotta be kidding me"
"He's… taking on dog characteristics", Mei Mei muttered
Utahime snorted, "fighting a werewolf. Great"
Utahime, didn't let the cursed spirit settle into its' transformation. She leapt forward with a surge of cursed energy, slamming a reinforced punch into the creature's ribs
The boy-beast howled, and clawed back
Marek deactivated the dojutsu and moved to help, but a hand caught his wrist
"Let her have this", Mei Mei said quietly, "she's angry. She hid it well. Smiles, sarcastic quips, and professional distance. But this thing? This boy? He lured people, and killed them"
Utahime landed another punch, a thunderclap of cursed energy. The werewolf staggered back, ribs caving in slightly
"She needs to burn through that anger", Mei Mei dropped her battle axe, "let her"
Marek watched as Utahime unleashed another flurry of strikes, hands glowing red-hot with every contact. The werewolf lunged. All claws, snarling teeth, and blind hatred. Cursed energy burst from his form in jagged waves, and Utahime met him in the grass, robes flowing, and sleeves tucked. Her hair was pulled back, sweat glinting at her temple.
She didn't brace, she exhaled, and then moved. The beast swung wide; slashing from the right. She stepped through the attack, her body twisted, spiraling like a ribbon, one foot crossing over the other as she let the momentum brush past her cheek. His claws missed her by an inch, and she caught the beast's wrist. With a smooth pivot, she redirected his weight into the ground. The werewolf slammed into the earth hard enough to leave an imprint. Before he could recover, she dropped an elbow into his shoulder
Boom
The shoulder shattered, and the beast screamed and lunged from a crouch, mouth wide to tear at her throat. She slid under the bite, turned on one heel, and struck upward with her palm
Crack
The jaw dislocated, and the beast-boy reeled
Utahime moved in close, eyes almost pitying, "you could've stopped your father then, but you helped him kill"
The beast roared, and Utahime moved like water—fluid, and inevitable. She ducked under a desperate slash, twisted with perfect form, and brought her fist up in a rising arc. Cursed energy surged through her arm—wild, precise, perfectly timed. And then—
Black Flash
The world cracked around her fist
Space distorted. A surge of cursed energy collided with her physical blow within 0.000001 seconds—and for a single heartbeat, Utahime struck at 120% of her potential
The beast's skull detonated
A ripple of black lightning burst from the point of impact, warping the air as fragments of bone and cursed energy exploded outward in a wave of finality
Silence fell
Utahime stood over the twitching body, eyes wide. Her hand trembled slightly, as she finally understood cursed energy better
"…Huh", she muttered
————————————x
Rooftop of Jujutsu High, Tokyo Branch — Afternoon
The breeze was cool, brushing past Mei Mei's long hair as she leaned on the railing. One of her crows rested on her wrist, and behind her, the door clicked open
"Satoru," she said without looking
"You always know when it's me", Gojo replied, sauntering forward like the rooftop belonged to him
"It's the smugness, carries itself with the wind"
Gojo grinned, "so how'd my little genius do?"
Mei Mei turned slightly, arms folded, "too well. I just taught him how to project a crow's vision onto screens. He got it in a single try"
"Of course he did", Gojo beamed
"He can easily share his perception with six crows, project their visuals, and is now working on integrating their vision into a cellphone—so he can scroll through each crow's view like camera feeds, all while staying mobile"
Gojo whistled, "Ooh, an overachiever"
Mei Mei's gaze sharpened, "you'd read it in the mission report anyway, but he's got a Domain"
Gojo stilled
"The boy used his domain to successfully oppose another one. Then proceeded to excecute the special grade cursed spirit. Afterwards, he performed something entirely unique, with Black Bird Manipulation —— he created birds with cursed energy alone"
He blinked once behind the blindfold, then grinned slow, like a cat that caught something rare, "and here I thought I was sending him on a little training trip"
Mei Mei didn't smile, "you knew exactly what you were doing"
Gojo shrugged, "not really"
"Next time you 'assign' me one of your disasters-in-progress, I'm billing triple"
"Fair", Gojo said cheerfully, "but come on, wasn't it fun? My genius got to shine, you got to witness history, and—"
"Utahime hit a Black Flash"
Gojo froze, mouth agape, "no way"
Mei Mei nodded, lips curling slightly, "one perfect strike. Punched the werewolf's head clean off"
Gojo let out a laugh, delighted, "she's finally stepped into the realm of strong!"
He paused, tilting his head, "guess my influence is contagious"
Mei Mei rolled her eyes
————————————x
Occult Research Club
Yuji exhaled, bracing himself, "here we go…"
They all gathered at their usual table like a trio of amateur ghostbusters with way too much confidence and absolutely no budget
Iguchi cleared his throat with unnecessary drama. Sasaki leaned forward, eyes shining with theatrical seriousness, and Yuji was already halfway smiling
Yuji chanted loudly, "Spirits… spirits…"
Then, in a tone that suggested they were invoking something ancient and powerful, he read the question from their homemade ritual sheet:
"Please reveal the creature, the school council president is just barely weaker than?"
There was a beat of silence, and then they all burst into laughter