Unknown Place
It didn't feel like a room.
No windows were visible. No doors. No walls that are clear. The silence was as though the room itself had stopped in the middle of its breath.
Overhead, a lone hanging light swayed softly, but it had nowhere to hang because there was no ceiling.
There was a table underneath it.
Hanabi sat around that table.
Not one.
Not two.
But a few.
Six different versions of her, each with a slightly different posture, expression, and energy, but all with the same face and uniform. similar to the same song in a different key.
One Hanabi clapped her hands twice, loudly and brightly, at the head of the table.
"Meeting, meeting!" she announced.
Across from her, another Hanabi leaned back with her chair tilted, one leg casually hooked over the armrest. Her glasses caught the light in a way that made her eyes glow.
"So," said Hanabi One, tapping her finger against the table like a gavel, "what script should we add to spice up this blended story?"
A third Hanabi shot her hand into the air so fast it nearly smacked the light.
"Oh! Oh! I know, I know!"
Hanabi One turned her head, indulgent. "Go on, Hanabi."
Hanabi Three leaned forward, eyes shining with the kind of excitement that only came from impending disaster.
"What if we trigger the Shibuya Incident early?"
The room went quiet.
A fourth Hanabi lifted her hand slightly.
"Cut," Hanabi Six said, tone flat as a stage director. "That's too early."
Hanabi Three blinked. "Too early?"
Hanabi Six gestured vaguely, as if pointing to an invisible timeline floating in the air.
"If we rush Shibuya, we lose buildup. We lose tension. We lose the slow burn. And worst of all…" She paused. "…we lose the audience's emotional investment."
Hanabi Three stared for a second, then slowly sank back into her chair, defeated.
"…That's true," she admitted, pouting. "Fine."
Hanabi Two, who had been sitting perfectly upright, raised her hand next—slowly and with unsettling seriousness. She pressed her palms together as if making a prayer.
Then she spoke with complete sincerity.
"How about we burn Jujutsu High to the ground?"
The other Hanabis stared.
Hanabi One tilted her head.
Then smiled.
"…That's actually a great idea."
Hanabi Two brightened immediately, as if she'd just been praised by a teacher.
"But," Hanabi One continued, holding up a finger, "it's a later idea. Not now. Right now we need something sharper. Something that nudges the plot without snapping it in half."
Hanabi Five hummed, twirling a pen between her fingers. "Something elegant."
Hanabi Three muttered, "Something explosive."
Hanabi Six sighed. "Something coherent."
Then—
"Ahem."
All six heads turned at once.
At the far end of the table, the original Hanabi sat upside down in her chair, her back resting on the seat while her legs draped over the top like a bat hanging from a branch.
She pretended to cough into her fist, as if she hadn't been ignored for the past five minutes.
"Ahem," she repeated, louder.
Silence.
Then, with theatrical grace, she spread her arms wide.
"How about…" she said, voice sweet as candy, "…we do this?"
Hanabi One leaned forward. "I'm listening."
Original Hanabi's smile sharpened.
"We don't rewrite the main plot," she said. "That's boring. Like ripping pages out of a book."
She flipped herself upright in one smooth motion and sat properly, elbows on the table.
"We add a new thread."
Hanabi Five's eyes widened. "A parasite plotline."
Hanabi Three snapped her fingers. "A side quest that becomes the main quest!"
Hanabi Six narrowed her eyes. "A controlled variable."
Original Hanabi pointed at Hanabi Six like she'd just won a prize.
"Yes. Exactly."
Hanabi One smiled slowly. "Go on."
Original Hanabi tapped the table once.
"We create a curse."
She paused.
"Not a natural one."
Hanabi Two blinked. "Like… an artificial curse?"
Original Hanabi's eyes glittered.
"A curse built around a concept."
She leaned closer.
"A curse that can only exist because I exist."
The room was silent again.
This time, not because they disagreed.
Because the idea was good.
Hanabi Five leaned forward, grinning. "As expected from myself!"
"And then we add this too!" she said quickly, voice rising with excitement.
Hanabi Three piled on immediately. "Yeah! And then this, and then that—like a chain reaction!"
Hanabi Six, arms crossed, nodded once. "And we need a dramatic ending."
Hanabi Two clasped her hands again, eyes shining. "And we can save the Jujutsu High fire for the climax!"
Hanabi One lifted her finger like a conductor preparing an orchestra.
"Okay," she said, voice steady but thrilled. "Let's draft it."
The room suddenly changed.
Not physically.
But emotionally like a stage curtain had risen.
Pens appeared.
Paper unfolded.
Invisible boards filled with notes and timelines.
The Hanabis spoke over each other, building the story like children assembling a bomb out of glitter and knives.
"Add the first encounter here."
"Make the curse appear as a rumor!"
"No, no—make it a game!"
"Then we corner-"
"Then we tease-"
"Then we—"
Original Hanabi leaned back in her chair, watching her other selves.
By the time the "meeting" ended, the script had been written.
A story woven into another story, disguised as coincidence.
Original Hanabi clasped her hands together and laughed quietly.
"Hehe… this is going to be so much fun."
Hanabi Two practically bounced in her seat.
"So fun!"
Hanabi Five threw her arms up dramatically.
"Fun, fun!"
Then suddenly the room fell quiet.
For a moment, even the hanging light stopped swaying.
Original Hanabi blinked.
Then snapped her fingers, as if the thought had physically struck her.
"Oh wait."
All the other Hanabis turned toward her at once.
Original Hanabi's voice rose, suddenly too casual for the weight of what she was saying.
"Didn't that old guy in the woman's body already… you know…" She waved her hand vaguely. "Give birth to Sukuna's vessel?"
Hanabi One's expression stiffened.
"…Ah."
Hanabi Two's brows knitted, like she was trying to remember a timeline she'd memorized years ago.
Hanabi Six exhaled slowly, as if the air itself disappointed her.
"That's true," Hanabi One admitted. "Kenjaku already did it."
Hanabi Three tilted her head. "So… we're not making a new curse?"
Original Hanabi opened her mouth then closed it.
Hanabi Two raised her hand, ever earnest, like she was in a classroom.
"Then we can change the plan," she offered. "Instead of creating a curse, we capture more cursed spirits."
Hanabi Five perked up. "A collection!"
Hanabi Three grinned. "A zoo!"
Hanabi Six corrected, smile. "An arsenal."
All the Hanabis stared at each other.
They nodded.
That could work.
The room warmed again, their excitement returning like a fire being relit.
Then original Hanabi suddenly stiffened.
Her eyes widened behind her glasses, the realization hitting her so hard it almost looked like fear.
"…Wait."
Hanabi One frowned. "What now?"
Original Hanabi's voice sharpened, unusually sincere.
"Isn't this going to get boring?"
Silence.
Original Hanabi leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"I mean listen. We keep making scripts. We keep planning twists. We keep doing this and that…" Her hands moved as if she were arranging invisible puzzle pieces. "But because of that we already know the outcome."
Her lips parted.
She looked genuinely offended by the concept.
"We know what happens."
Her shoulders rose slightly.
"So what's the point?"
The other Hanabis stared.
Then, all at once—
"No way!" they shouted in unison.
Original Hanabi blinked.
Hanabi Five slapped the table. "We can't be bored!"
Hanabi Three pointed accusingly at the air. "That's illegal!"
Hanabi Two nodded with intense conviction. "We are joy!"
Hanabi One leaned forward, eyes bright. "If we're bored, then the world is already dead."
"Sigh."
The sound was loud in the still room.
And with that single sigh, every Hanabi's posture slackened.
Their heads tilted.
Their arms dropped.
Their bodies folded as if invisible strings had been cut.
Seven Hanabis collapsed at once—limp, lifeless, like dolls tossed aside after a game ended.
The room didn't change.
But the perspective did.
As if the camera pulled back.
Above them a hand moved.
A much larger hand.
Fingers pale and elegant, hovering over a white box like a child playing with toys.
A voice spoke from above, amused and lazy.
"And here I thought playing pretend would help me come up with something new…"
The voice giggled softly.
"So boringgggg."
The Hanabi leaned closer.
She was holding it.
The seven Hanabis lay inside the white box like discarded puppets.
Hanabi hummed, tapping the edge of the box with her nail.
"Fine," she said brightly. "Then I'll stop thinking."
Her smile widened.
"I'll just do whatever I want."
A soft laugh escaped her.
"Hehehe."
Then she lifted a toy gun.
She pressed it to her own temple like it was a joke she'd been saving.
"Bang."
The gun fired.
A burst of glitter.
It exploded outward in a shimmering cloud, sparkling like a festival.
Hanabi's body went slack.
She toppled backward, falling out of view like a marionette whose last thread had snapped.
Glitter drifted through the air.
Slowly.
All of it vanished.
---------divide--------
A crowded hallway. Neon lights. The smell of cheap soda and fried food.
A karaoke store.
Riko stood proudly in front of a private room door, her hands on her hips like she'd just won a war.
"See?" she said smugly. "I told you it'd be fun."
Hanabi stood beside her, expression flat, like she'd been dragged into a social experiment.
"…You didn't tell me," Hanabi replied. "You forced me to come."
Riko giggled and shoved her gently into the room.
Inside, the space was warm and dim. A sofa, a table full of menus, microphones waiting like props on a stage.
Riko immediately grabbed one, eyes sparkling.
"Okay! First song—"
Hanabi sighed, sitting down with perfect posture.
Riko picked something energetic.
And then Hanabi sang.
The moment her voice filled the room, Riko froze.
Not because it was bad.
Because it was beautiful.
Clear, smooth, controlled like someone who could mimic emotion perfectly even if she didn't feel it.
Riko's jaw dropped slightly.
When the song ended, Riko practically launched herself onto Hanabi, wrapping her arms around her with a squeal.
"Your voice is so nice, Hanabi-chan!"
Hanabi didn't hug back.
She simply stared forward, holding the microphone loosely.
"…Yeah," she said, tone empty. "Yeah."
Riko pulled back, pouting.
"You're not even happy!"
Hanabi blinked once.
Then, slowly, her eyes shifted toward the karaoke screen.
The flashing lyrics.
Her lips twitched.
Because even if she pretended she hated it…
This was still a stage.
And Hanabi had always loved stages.
----------------divide-------------
(Sparxie: wow that insane)