The darkness of the underpass was thick with the scent of stagnant water and something far more ancient. Within that gloom, a shape began to coalesce.
Not from flesh and bone, but from the overflow of human hatred.
I felt the first spark of consciousness.
It was cold like an abyss and serrated like a blade.
It was the collective weight of every "I hate you" ever whispered in the dark. My fingers, if that's what these twitching, pale things were scraped against the damp concrete.
Who am I?
"It's a big one," a low, gravelly voice echoed through the tunnel, vibrating in my new chest.
I turned my head, the movement stiff and unnatural, to see a volcanic-headed creature staring at me with a single, massive eye. He looked impatient, the heat radiating from his cloak causing the damp air to hiss.
"A bit late to the party, aren't you?" Jogo muttered, his eye narrowing in a squint of pure irritation. "We've been waiting for the humans to vomit you up. Get on your feet, brat. We have work to do."
Next to him stood a man with a polite, almost scholarly smile. Except for the irregular stitches running across his forehead.
"Be patient, Jogo," the man said, his voice smooth and unsettlingly calm. He stepped closer, his shadow stretching over my half-formed body. "Birth is a delicate process. He's the manifestation of the fear humans have of one another... the most complex mirror of them all!"
A strange hunger clawed at my insides, but it wasn't for food. It was for understanding.
I looked at the stitched man, my new voice cracking like breaking glass.
"The soul..." I whispered, my eyes wide and shimmering with a manic light. "I can feel them... all of them. I want to know the soul. I want to see the true shape of things."
The man's smile widened, a glint of genuine, academic curiosity dancing in his eyes. "A seeker right out of the womb? How marvelous. But tell me, little mirror. If you are to understand the soul, you must first give a name to your own. What do you call yourself?"
I looked down at my pale, stitched hands.
The memories of human suffering pulsed through my mind, a beautiful disaster of ego and agony.
"Mahito," I whispered. The name felt right.
"I am... Mahito."
"Mahito, then," Kenjaku replied, his tone shifting into something sharper. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a cryptic hum.
"Since you seek the soul, you should know that the tides are being pulled by a moon that shouldn't exist. An anomaly has appeared. Much like Satoru Gojo, whose birth tipped the scales of the world, a new weight has been added to the balance."
"Can you make it simple for once?" Jogo barked, a puff of smoke erupting from the miniature volcano on his head.
"Simple, then," Kenjaku stated. "Such anomalies that make the world's foundation tremble must be captured, or worse, be killed as soon as possible."
A scoff escaped from Jogo's mouth. "Are you kidding me? One is enough of a headache! If there's a second freak running around, we need to find him right now."
"Precisely," Kenjaku said, his gaze drifting toward the entrance of the tunnel. "And Tengen? Oh, Tengen is certainly searching."
"Even now, those ancient eyes are scanning the barriers, desperate to find the source of this new heat. But they've found nothing so far."
I smiled, a jagged, playful thing. My body finally took a stable, human-like shape, though my eyes remained wild with the thrill of my new existence.
"The race is on," I repeated, tasting my name again. "Mahito... I like the sound of that."
...
...
...
The sun was dipping low over the Jujutsu High campus, bleeding a deep orange across the polished wood of the hallways.
Satoru Gojo strolled through the quiet corridor, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He looked as nonchalant as ever, but there was a certain sharpness to his stride that usually only appeared when he was holding a winning hand.
He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a woman enveloped in a cloud of tobacco smoke.
"Whoa! Careful there. You'll set off the fire alarms," Satoru greeted her, his usual playful smirk in place.
Shoko didn't laugh. She looked like she hadn't slept since the year began, the dark circles under her eyes nearly permanent.
"The alarms are the least of our worries."
"You're back late. Did you get any leads? We're being stretched to the limit out here. The sheer volume of spirits lately... it's a mess."
"Oh, I found him," Satoru said, his voice cutting through the quiet of the hall.
Shoko didn't even look up at first, flicking ash into a tray. "Good for you. Now, about the report on the Kyoto surge—"
Her head snapping up as the words finally registered. "Wait... what? Did you actually find him?"
"Took a while, didn't it? But yeah. I've got him," Satoru chuckled.
"Don't joke about this," Shoko said, her voice dropping into a serious, low register.
"We're stretched too thin for your games. If you really found the variable, we need to move. Now."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Satoru clung into Shoko's arm like flag while Shoko walked rapidly.
"What is it?"
"I need to talk to you. Alone. I promised that person not to be involved in this mess..."
Shoko had stopped so abruptly that Satoru nearly overshot her. "Are you kidding me? Our forces are being stretched thin across the board, the morgue is a revolving door, and you promised that anomaly something that crucial to us?"
"Tee-hee!" Satoru had simply struck a playful pose, fingers forming a 'V' with infuriating cheer.
"Haaahh..." Shoko sighed, the sound dragging out of her as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "To my office. I need more details about this ridiculous story of yours."
Once the lock clicked, Shoko didn't bother with her chair.
"Talk," She demanded. "Why are you abiding by this stupid promise? We're losing ground every day, Satoru. If he's the source of the shift, we don't have time for sentiment."
"To be honest with you, he really did want to join earlier on," Satoru replied, his tone shifting to something more reflective. "Don't know what his deal is, but from the looks of it, he's bored. Just like me!"
"Then why didn't you take him in?" Shoko asked, her eyes narrowing. "And what was this promise in the first place?"
"Hehehe... I just wanted to let him experience being a child more," Satoru countered, a grin returning with a sharp edge. "He's talented, Shoko. Really! Think of a mini-me, but maybe a bit more... cocky."
"A child?" Shock registered on Shoko's face.
"Bingo!" Satoru replied. "He even wanted to join and fight against those old farts. I didn't let him, though."
Shoko went quiet. She knew the rot
She had buried the victims of the elders' 'mistakes' Geto's descent, Haibara's death.
"He's a natural," Satoru continued. "He put up a Veil with zero training. But the energy he's using? It's something beyond my comprehension. It's an uncomfortable and dense energy, Shoko. In terms of raw force, it's denser than Cursed Energy itself."
"Specifics, Satoru! Now!"
"I didn't ask! Tee-hee!"
Shoko leaned back and hissed through her teeth. "You absolute man-child."
After a few moments, Satoru dropped the act and crossed his arms. "Based on what I could see, this energy augments his skills to an absurd degree. It's truly unthinkable."
"He's fast, he's strong and honestly, his output makes him look like something out of a manga. And his weapons? They're odd. He applies this energy into them and boom!"
Shoko folded her arms, her clinical mind already trying to bridge the gap between "talented kid" and "world-shaking threat."
"Those things can spew fire, lightning, and all sorts of things," Satoru added. "His talents are so refined that a Grade 2 Cursed Spirit was a total joke to him."
"He's already Special Grade material. His fundamentals, his strength, that arsenal he carries... it's all there! And his Cursed Energy is massive, too! I thought he might be from a branch of that boring clans, but his parents are as ordinary as they come."
"It's not all sunshine, though," Satoru said, his expression turning grim. "I assume this power has a ceiling. There must be a limit to how much he can spam it before it bites back. It's not exactly 'clean' energy."
Shoko winced. "Can you be serious for once?"
"Hehehe..." Satoru scratched his head.
Shoko looked at him for a long beat, the silence in the office stretching until it felt as thin as the smoke from her last cigarette.
She knew Satoru's "don't worry" tone.
It usually meant he was already three moves ahead and playing a game only he understood.
"I'm not bringing him in yet," Satoru said, his back turned to her. "A child like that deserves to enjoy childhood first, not a tool for the Higher-ups."
He smiled faintly, a shadow of himself reflecting in the windowpane. "He's just like me. Let's leave it at that."
A sigh escaped from Shoko's mouth.
She knew the gravity of people like Satoru.
"It's inevitable, you know. He'll end up here eventually. That strength will pull him in."
"Maybe," Satoru chirped, turning back with his usual grin. "But for now, he's my little secret. And let's keep it that way, yeah?"
The silence hang for a moment again.
For all his arrogance, Shoko knew he was trying to spare this kid the same cold and calculated upbringing.
"Fine," she murmured. "Keep him in the dark as long as you can. What can I even do to that stubborn mindset of yours?"
Satoru's smile widened, genuine and relieved. "I knew you'd get it, Shoko. You're the best!"
The moment was abruptly cut short by a firm and steady footsteps outside.
The door swung open to reveal a man who looked like he'd been carved out of granite and dressed in a high-end department store.
"There you are," Nanami said, his voice a dry baritone.
"Nanami! I miss you so much!" Satoru exclaimed, throwing his arms wide as if he were welcoming a long-lost brother.
"Why the long face, though? You look like you just swallowed a lemon!"
Nanami adjusted his tie, his expression staying at a perfect zero. "It is 6:00 PM, Gojo. My shift is technically over, yet I am here looking for you. That is why my face is 'long.'"
"So grumpy!"
"The higher-ups want a word," Nanami said, ignoring the antics. "They're suspicious about the gaps in your itinerary. You've been being... 'talented' at avoiding them again."
A dramatic, over-the-top groan came out of Satoru as if the very idea of a meeting was physically painful.
He took one last look at Shoko, then at Nanami's unyielding, stoic expression, and a mischievous grin spread across his face.
"Oh well," Satoru chirped, his energy rebounding instantly.
"Gotta catch 'em all! See you, Shoko!"
"The door is right there," Shoko called out, though she didn't bother looking up.
"Too slow!" Satoru's voice drifted back from the darkness outside.
Nanami stood staring at the empty window, his jaw tight. "This man... Why does he always act like a runaway student?"
Shoko exhaled a long plume of smoke. "Because he found something that makes him feel like one again. Good luck with the Higher-ups, Nanami. You're going to need it."
Though Nanami couldn't understand Shoko's comment, he left immediately.
The time wasted for the sake of his relaxing moment couldn't be put in hold right now.
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