The cursed signature had come from a sealed tunnel beneath an abandoned chemical plant in Akita. According to intel, the residuals were volatile and expanding—too volatile for junior teams. Yaga summoned the monster trio that morning.
"It's special grade," he said flatly. "No doubt about it."
Gojo grinned. "Finally. Something that won't die in one hit."
"Don't be cocky," Yaga snapped. "This one's different. Multiple reports from survivors describe hallucinations, flesh rot, and entire bodies disappearing without a trace. Get in, exorcise it, and get out. No improvising."
Kishibe stood at the back, arms crossed, unreadable. Shoko handed him a packet of gauze and eyed him for a second longer than usual.
"Don't get gutted," she said casually.
He raised a brow. "You know something I don't?"
Shoko didn't smile. "Just a bad feeling."
---
The plant stank of rust and decay. Pipes groaned in the walls. The three of them moved in tandem, curses flaring on the edge of their senses. In the deepest part of the tunnel, it revealed itself—a hulking mess of stitched flesh and bone, dozens of human mouths chattering across its body. A cursed spirit of torment and memory, born from the anguish of chemical experiments and dying workers.
"That's no damn regular special grade," Kishibe muttered. "It's old."
The creature's presence warped the air. Gojo couldn't even activate his Six Eyes fully—everything shimmered, flickered, like a bad transmission.
"Great," Geto said. "It's disrupting our perception. Must be mimicking some sort of anti-CT field."
"Don't hold back," Kishibe growled, and lunged.
His blade scraped the monster's hide, Severance flaring to slice a chunk of cursed energy—but the flesh regrew instantly, wailing from the open mouths.
Geto flung a cursed spirit forward. It was devoured before it reached. "We're going to need to dismantle the anchor point," he said. "There's a heart in there somewhere. That's the core."
"I'll distract it!" Gojo shouted, rushing forward.
"Gojo, no—!"
But it was too late. Gojo got too close. A sudden spike of cursed energy surged from the creature's chest, slamming into him with blinding force and throwing him through a pipe wall.
The creature moved in.
Kishibe's instincts screamed. He sprinted, blade out, cursed energy igniting violently through Severance.
He threw himself between the curse and Gojo, just as the beast brought down a wall of limbs.
The impact cracked the floor beneath them.
"KISHIBE!" Geto yelled.
Kishibe's blade dug into the monster's arm, Severance firing off in bursts, slicing entire threads of energy—but the creature retaliated by impaling him through the shoulder with a cursed spike.
He didn't scream.
Instead, he twisted his body, brought the blade around, and severed the entire limb from the beast. Severance surged again—the spiritual lattice of the creature began to tear.
"Now, Geto!" Kishibe barked.
Geto unleashed a captured serpent spirit, which wrapped around the exposed core.
"Exorcise!"
The creature shrieked in layers of broken voices as it disintegrated, collapsing into sludge.
---
Shoko's hands worked fast, her face tense.
"You're lucky the spike missed your heart by centimeters," she muttered, wrapping Kishibe's torso. "You're not supposed to be the one playing shield."
He looked at Gojo, who sat beside the bed, eyes lowered.
"Wasn't planning to," Kishibe said. "But someone decided to be stupid."
Gojo didn't argue.
"I fucked up," he said simply.
Kishibe blinked.
Geto stood nearby, arms folded. "He hesitated. Tried to figure it out mid-fight."
"I thought I could disable the field," Gojo muttered. "Didn't expect the curse to launch a conscious counterattack."
"You're still learning," Kishibe said, voice rough. "Just don't make a habit of it."
Shoko finished taping his ribs. "No Hollow Purple yet, huh?"
"Still working on it." Gojo rubbed the back of his neck.
There was a long pause.
"You jumped in front of it," he said finally. "You didn't have to."
"I know," Kishibe said. "But I did."
That night, Gojo sat beside Kishibe's bed, eyes turned to the ceiling.
"I don't think I'll ever be as calm as you," he muttered.
"You're not supposed to be," Kishibe replied. "You're supposed to be stronger."
---
Outside, the rain began to fall.
Inside, the monster trio sat in silence—wounded, wiser, and still together.
The scars were proof of something unspoken.
They would carry each other forward. Even when it hurt.