POV: Shoko Ieiri
The rooftop of Jujutsu High was quiet, save for the distant rustling of trees and the occasional footsteps of students below. Shoko leaned on the rail, a cigarette burning low between her fingers, though she never actually smoked it. A habit from observing older sorcerers. A need to feel older than she was.
"They're too much," she muttered, mostly to herself.
Behind her, Utahime stepped out of the stairwell, arms crossed. "Who? The Monster Trio?"
Shoko smirked. "Is that what they're calling them now?"
Utahime nodded. "It's what the Kyoto campus is whispering. Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, and… that one."
"Kishibe," Shoko filled in, blowing smoke she didn't inhale. "I still can't tell if he's completely insane or just too sober for all this."
Utahime stepped beside her. "You've seen him fight."
"Yeah," Shoko replied, the memory sharp—like the way his blade sliced a cursed spirit's neck with surgical precision. "He moves like someone who's not trying to win. Just trying to end it."
Utahime nodded again. "And you've seen how Gojo and Geto look at him?"
Shoko said nothing at first. She remembered Gojo laughing harder with Kishibe than he ever did with anyone else. She remembered Geto watching Kishibe like he was a ticking time bomb, not out of fear, but fascination.
"Yeah," Shoko finally said. "They see something in him. Or maybe they see themselves."
---
POV: Mei Mei
"Don't underestimate him," Mei Mei told her younger brother, gripping her axe lightly as she watched Kishibe train alone in the distance. The way he moved was brutal—no wasted motion, every step meant to kill. "You see that technique?"
Ui Ui blinked. "The knife?"
"No," she said. "The way his cursed energy cuts the air around him. That's not just weapon skill. That's instinct honed to a cursed edge."
Kishibe threw his blade up, caught it in reverse, and finished a silent kata. A dead tree cracked behind him—he hadn't even turned toward it.
"I've seen his file," Mei Mei said. "Born to nothing. Raised in nothing. But when he fights, he becomes a concept. Severance. Emotion, connection—he cuts through it all."
Ui Ui blinked again.
Mei Mei didn't expect him to understand. She didn't even expect Kishibe to understand what he was becoming. But that made him more dangerous, not less.
---
POV: Principal Yaga
The Monster Trio stood side by side in his office. A mission brief laid unopened on the table. Gojo was leaning back in the chair like it was a throne. Geto had his arms crossed. Kishibe was sitting on the floor, sharpening his blade with a stone.
Yaga stared at them.
"I want you three to head north. Cursed outbreak near the village border. Civilians haven't been evacuated yet."
"Finally," Gojo said, standing. "I was getting stiff."
"I bet you were," Geto muttered.
Kishibe didn't say anything. He just looked at Yaga with eyes too tired for his age.
Yaga knew that look. He'd seen it in veterans who'd been exorcising for decades. But Kishibe had only been a student for two years. Two years, and he already carried the eyes of someone who'd seen too much and had nothing left to mourn.
"Don't let this one go sideways," Yaga warned. "There's something odd about the cursed readings."
Gojo grinned. "When does it not go sideways?"
As they turned to leave, Yaga stopped Kishibe.
"You keeping up with the others?" he asked.
Kishibe didn't look back. "I don't run. I kill. They keep up with me."
And then he was gone, cloak flaring behind him.
---
POV: Utahime Iori (again)
Later that week, Utahime found herself paired with the trio on a joint training session. She hadn't volunteered.
"You're still alive?" Gojo greeted her with that shit-eating grin.
"Still punching idiots in the face," she replied smoothly.
Geto offered a respectful nod. Kishibe didn't acknowledge her at all—he was leaning against a tree, arms crossed, blade resting against his shoulder.
"You gonna say something?" she asked him directly.
Kishibe tilted his head. "Not to someone I don't need to kill."
Utahime's jaw clenched. Gojo laughed. Geto sighed.
But later, after the session, Kishibe handed her a bottle of antiseptic for a cut on her arm—no words, just a gesture. She took it. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't entirely heartless.
---
POV: Nanami Kento (1st year)
Nanami had heard of them. Everyone had.
Walking past the training field that day, he saw them—Gojo laughing while deflecting Geto's cursed spirits, Kishibe slashing through training dummies like they were flesh and blood.
He stopped and stared. Something about them was magnetic. No, dangerous. Like watching gods argue.
"I don't want to be like them," he said under his breath.
But part of him wondered if he'd survive long enough not to become them.
---
Back on the rooftop, Shoko watched the sunset bleed into the city skyline. Utahime had left. The cigarette had burned out.
She thought of Kishibe's eyes. Of Geto's careful silences. Of Gojo's laugh hiding something colder beneath.
The Monster Trio.
They were brilliant. Terrifying. And doomed.
She just hoped they'd stay together long enough to prove everyone wrong.