▬▬▬ nostalgia, the present of the past

WAS LIVING AN IMMORTAL LIFE A SIN?

It bent the laws of nature, therefore, it was.

Far from becoming enraged, you could not utter a word of complaint; it was on account of that rare virtue you possessed that you were filled with an immense curse.

You scoured the whole world looking for death, for someone who could give you death.

And if someone was able to kill you, it was, without a doubt, felt like a good dream; it would be an honor to die in their good hands.

Yet you weren't able to find one, for every single one of them was weak, useless to your eyes.

As the days passed by, your curse—the despair and impatience and anger—was becoming strong that it accumulated your whole being . . . Each day, you were growing stronger and stronger, and all of your capabilities were becoming limitless. The probability of finding a powerful cursed spirit or sorcerer was becoming low. No one could tier your league.

Fear and anxiety had shaken your life. Unfathomable questions conquered your whole sanity. Now, you were affrighted by one probe:

What if . . . You were unable to die?

Which was a bit puerile to ask.

No one wanted to live forever . . . No one wanted to experience the horrors and tragedies of life over and over and over again.

Almost 300 hundred years later, it was the year 1185, your emotions could never be sustained through the potential boredom of living extremely lonely and sad.

Anger was piling up once again. And whenever you were furiously quivering with madness, your curse energy would automatically set in motion. Vicious red and black energy swirled up, and as if all of the units of matter would cower away from you and they would be erased without a trace.

You knew, even having the premonition that if you would erase the whole world, but you would still live, floating on the eternal space like a speck of insignificance you were.

Filled with hopelessness, you deactivated your cursed energy.

Sighing, you decided to continue your traveling. The world was big, and certainly, you hadn't visited every corner of it. This earth was still continuously moving, and one day, it might produce a one-in-a-million prodigy that could withstand your cursed power. Somehow, hope was persistently flickering in your heart as you were desperate in looking for death. Yes, the irony.

You just had your dinner, and the night was never old to continue your travel; you could never afford to dawdle. As you were about to take a stride, someone called out to you.

"I see that you hath learned the ways of Jujutsu."

You squinted your eyes upon hearing a familiar voice. You looked behind, your hair swayed the way you moved.

"Who wouldest hath thought," you enunciated with eloquence and unnerving coldness, "after threefold years, thou still alive."

The man regarded your snark greeting with a chuckle, then went near you. "It hath only been 278 years, young lass."

"So you were counting." You only clicked your tongue, and your frown never left your forehead.

You sat back down where you settled just a while ago. It was near a riverbank existing in a damp forest.

It was only Tengen, the road companion you used to be with. And it appeared that he was the same as you.

"Art thou the same as I?" you asked.

The fire you created had ceased, and Tengen was courteous enough to lit it again. After some minute, he sat down across to you, the bonfire was in your midst.

"If living without an end, yes, the two of us are the same," he finally answered.

"Then, doeth thee looking for death as well?" Oddly, you felt the sense of companionship—the one who suffered from the curse of living.

But to your dismay, instead of giving the affirmation, he only shook his head.

"No, Her Highness, your road companion came to seek for you."

With his response, a visible cloud rendered the way you gazed at him.

That was his reason? Was it quite a futile reason?

"Seek thou road companion, saith thee?" A scoff of profound disbelief escaped your lips. "For two hundred and seventy-eight years passeth?"

The man nodded his head. "When the king of Kemi had forcefully taken me to another country and left abandoned, I hurried back to the citadel only to find out that it was eradicated. It left thyself no choice but to go back to my home country."

You were aware that the king was lying that Tengen exchanged your life for materialistic means, and it was confirmed by him.

It was not the time to give him a response, thus Tengen continued to speak.

He said, "But my country, the glorious Sunrise Land, has been in utter chaos. Curses and Cursed Spirits spring forth endlessly, plaguing the hope of our people to nothing."

You only sighed. With his testimony, you could easily detect that a bargain was about to appear.

"So?" you answered full of nark. "What doeth thee wished I to do?"

"The obliteration of the city of Kemi was, with no doubt, caused by you. Since then, Her Highness has always had a powerful curse technique beyond revel. Knowing that, I looked for the traces you left and tracked you . . . It didn't matter if your humble road companion took centuries to find you, but for the sake of my country, please end the misery." Tengen placed his hands on the upper portion of his knees and gave you his sincerest bow. "I implore unto Thine Highness to lend her thine hands for my country."

You shrugged your shoulders loosely, giving the impression of declining his request. "Why confide in I? You and thou people could make thou country peaceful again? The jujutsu thou speaketh, doeth not came from thee? Thou hast arriveth to a wrong person. It interests not mine, unless it concerns thine death."

"Your death, you mean?" He took close attention to your certain statement. "What if I told thee that it is possible to find your death there?"

His offer enticed you.

You weighed all of the advantages and disadvantages if you agreed to go with him. And it seemed like it favored the conveniences it could give if you did. Since you were traveling the world, looking for any possibilities, his proposition was not that too bad. Though it was a huge troublesome.

In the end, despite your whining, you concurred with his request. You could see how much gleeful he was.

_______________________________________________________

It took the two of your traveling by waters for four days to the country called Sunrise Land or the Land of the Rising Sun. In Tengen's language, it was spoken as 'Nihon'.

At night upon your arrival. It really lived up to what was Tengen's descriptions. The place you had come to, the city of Heian, was brooding with dark energy and utmost gloom. And wherever you laid your eyes, curses were lurking.

Tengen had it explained to you. Heian was the Golden Age of Jujutsu, where the war wasn't against humans, but against supernatural beings.

It didn't matter if you hadn't taken a rest, and you were given a task a little later: to annihilate the cause of this demise.

The sorcerers of this country gave you the information about your target. They gave you the direction where to go, because no one could accompany you.

Cowards, as they were, because they had feared death.

Some even mocked your being. How could a mere woman face the undisputable curse of all? They even cursed you that you would die the second you step foot on his domain.

You only chuckled. That was the point you came here: to die. And yes, you gratefully accepted their curse that mattered your death.

It was the season of autumn in this country, the red foliage was adding a terrifying tension to your anticipating death.

The location was in a remote foot of a mountain, treading the stairs towards a shrine.

A shrine, you said in the mind, a demon who found comfort in a holy shrine.

"Ryōmen Sukuna, King of Curses," you spoke once stepping foot on the shrine. "Playing god, art thou?"

You saw him inside the shrine hall where a deity dwelled, sitting crossed-legs on the timbered floor. You were lying if you said you weren't horrified by his appearance, yet you kept it in a passive face. He was a demon with four arms and two faces with spiked hair and with unique markings on his forehead, nose, cheeks, and torso. He also had a second pair of eyes under his normal eyes, which were closed by now.

He must like to think he was a god, such an unorthodox beyond words, where he could only find pleasure in catastrophe.

A false god—something you hated the most.

Although noticing it now, he was accompanied by a kid monk with chin-length white hair. Must be the Uraume they told you about, an attendant of him.

"Are you one of the weakling brats they sent?" Sukuna nagged, irksome marked his voice. "Those foolish sorcerers never learned. Leave, if you don't want to be killed, you lowly wench." With one arm supporting his chin, his fingers gestured you to go away, implying how much he had no interest in you. "Well–" yet his mood was quick to change and smirked mischievously– "unless they sent you here as a sacrifice, I'd be glad to indulge you."

You sighed, shoulders sinking in the process. Men, whatever era or part of the world they were in, were the same—worse than the feces combined.

"I hast come to make a bet with thee."

He was brimming with confidence, so he responded, "Humor me, then."

As he gave you the affirmation, you sauntered towards the very front of the hall.

"To you, who he is an embodiment of purest evil, I came unto thee with an expectation to end thine life—"

You weren't even able to finish your sentence when Sukuna, with his curse energy, easily decapitated your head clean.

Your head was tossed on the ground with an ugly thud, blood spurted out in random splatters, and your unresponsive body sprawled forward.

But even though you were unconscious, your body or curse had an emergency response to your death. It would activate on its own even without your cognizance, and as for the technique you acquired, time would reverse and bring you to once you were.

It was the secret of your endless life, your eternal look—a time-based ability.

Upon witnessing your recovery, Sukuna felt an amusement that chilled his bones. He smiled victoriously as he stood up.

You heaved a deep sigh, collecting huge patience for this man.

"As art thine was saying—"

Again, he severed you, severing you in three longitudinal cuts.

You healed, nonetheless.

"Kill me—"

Again, he severed you as a form of entertainment.

"Once if you did not—"

Again, he severed you. For him, you only had an imperishable body, but further that, you were nothing.

Yes, you healed. No matter and however he amputated you.

"I will be the one—"

Again, he severed you. It thrilled him, thinking of ways possible of how he would torment you and find pleasure that he never found to anyone except to you.

For numerous times, your body reverted in one piece, now accumulated with the madness of being disrespected.

Sukuna attempted to sever you again, but before he could, you motioned your hand to create a hand seal.

His attack stopped in mid-air. In simple words, within a limited space around you, you paused the time.

"For a king, thou knoweth not how to listen, doeth you?" you spoke as your expression changed into an enraged one. But you held yourself not to unleash all of your curse energy, still hanging your patience onto a thin line.

Sukuna realized how his judgments went awry; you were not it seemed as it supposed to be.

"Now, listen ye, art I cometh here with an anticipation that, you—an epitome of the curse—could kill me, yet–" you drew an inscrutable expression, darkest shades of shadows rendered your face and eyes emotionlessly cold and black– "it seemed like you are weak after all, Ryōmen Sukuna."

You dropped the formality to your speech, for he was worthy of all shame and disappointment.

For a proud persona like him, he never—in the least—liked how you belittle him. It hurt his pride and god-like complex.

"You're all talk, aren't you?" he remarked in a grave tone and began being serious.

Powerful energy gathered to his whole built, glowing in a mass of black and red fire-plays in the surrounding. The ground even shook before him, destroying even the shrine he dwelled. You provoked him well, and you had no remorse for it.

You already gauged his power, and someone like him would never bring you death.

Thus you decided to do your mission: murder the King of Curses.

As he was about to assault you, smiled at him.

"Now, now . . ." you said with low hums vibrating in your throat. "You will you die for me?"

If a thousand days was equivalent up to about three years of mortal life, then there was you, who had lived a thousand years, three years were like three days for you.

You had outlived everyone, for 833 years had passed once again. People died on you, and you were still in the sad pit of hopelessness and mediocrity, being figuratively stepped on by life and curses themselves. It was the year 2018, and nothing could compare to the misery of realizing your entire lifetime was wasted for nothing . . . You had lived this far, and you fucked it up.

The summary of your life was nothing but a series of numerous death, fake deaths, or living in different personas . . . And yes, you did fuck it up.

Now that you harbored an immeasurable curse in your entire being, you lost all comprehension of everything around you.

Your only resort was to drink, to smoke, to get high. But you needed a job to be able to buy your vices, so you applied as a teacher to a school here in Tokyo—Satozakura High School, to be specific, because you saw on the internet that they were hiring.

" . . . Are you even listening?!"

Once your daydream finished, your consciousness went back to reality.

You don't know why your memories brought you back to the Heian Era, where you met the supposed to be King of Curses. Well, maybe because you sensed a faint presence of him just now.

"Pay close attention, for the love of heavens!"

You averted your eyes to the man in front.

Ah, yes . . . Right, I'm in a job interview. 

For having in an interview, you were too nonchalant and 'I-actually-do-not-give-a-fuck'.

"Yes, yes . . ." you replied trying to sound somber, nonetheless. "I'm listenin'."

You were talking with the school principal, but your head was in the clouds, muttering strings of curses in your mind.

Fuck hangover.

But yes, I'mma fuckin' do it again.

"You're obviously not!" the man-principal scolded you, growing annoyed just by seeing you. "How could someone like you be a teacher? You lack moral ethics! You even came late in your interview, and you're drunk? My goodness!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm drunken wasted, but I did try my best to come here, though I compromised not to take a bath for this," you slurred, still your head felt like it would be split in two. "And how dare ye to judge my teaching capabilities? I'm sure you've seen my curriculum vitae, thus you know how much qualified I am."

"Even though!" he snapped at you. "We're looking for a teacher with passion and enthusiasm! Inasmuch qualified you are, but without basic moral ethics, you are nothing!"

After hearing him preach, you smirked. Suddenly, the alcohol riddling your head vanished. "Basic moral ethics, huh?" You slouched on your seat, amplifying more of his irritation, then you raised your leg and put it on his table. "That's so human of you . . . Sha~ame."

He became infuriated by you, even seeing his aura turning red. "You imprudent—!"

But his words were cut when the electrical energy was interrupted.

For the mundanes, the power outage was a work of a human itself, but for eyes that were not new to curses-unimaginable, a Curtain has covered in the whole campus.

Bitter that the principal wasn't able to retaliate his anger towards you, he just fell on his head and lost consciousness. It was certainly just the middle of the day, but within this Curtain, it was as if it was already nighttime. And no mortals could withstand cursed energy.

"Fuck your moral ethics, human." You cursed him, of course, it was your hobby.

And before leaving, you took his wallet and anything valuable. This would suffice your daily vices. 

Yay, now I could survive the day~!

No, not really.

You always knew that this day would be a bad one—oh, well, every day was a bad one—but this day was hella unlucky.

Your speculation was right, as the time went longer, you could feel the stronger presence of that certain cursed spirit.

The last thing you remember when you fought Sukuna that even in death, his curse energy was persistent, for his body was unable to be fully destroyed. Henceforth, his remains of twenty indestructible fingers were left to the sorcerers. 

Apart from that, you actually didn't give a shit.

Raise whatever the hell he wanted, for all you cared.

You were facing a lot terrible than that. 

Fuck capitalism. And fuck society.

You wanted money to buy gin and fill your emptiness with it. As impossible as it sounded, sickness wouldn't conquer over you, might as well drown yourself with it.

Now, now . . . Where's the entrance again?

You wanted to leave before you dragged yourself into a fight between the sorcerers and cursed spirits. You could hear smashes, rumbles, and sounds of breaking glasses nearby. And you ignored them as much as possible.

Knowing that this would take longer, you stayed in a certain hallway and took out your cigarette pack and lighter. You lit a stick, puffing the thick smoke, savoring the addicting smell, exhaled.

You watched the smoke dance around you and disappear, fleeting at it should be. Life was slightly different than that. The smoke was just a substance, but it was conscious, ought to vanish. But humans, as conscious but not really conscious as they were, know that they would eventually approach their demise as well. 

Everything in life terribly smart and broken. Looking into the abyss on a long timescale, the universe was so wide, but apparently indifferent, all had no ultimate significance. 

And this despaired you—despair gave birth to fresh despair. Writhing in your usual despair and fears, you smoked narcotics. Sometimes when drunk and high, you timidly attempted a few sneaking ventures at indirect questioning. In your heart, you bounded foolishly from sorrow to sorrow, but on the surface, you never ceased from your immoderate insanities.

Fuck my life.

When you were done smoking, you decided to leave and return to your apartment. 

But the fight wasn't done . . . Damn it.

Your sleep and vices were more valuable. Crash the ongoing fiasco? You could care less.

From the window of the corridors of the ground floor, you were seeing a manifested innate domain on the schoolyard. And outside the barrier technique, there was a teenage guy who had a splitting image of that cursed spirit you faced hundreds of years ago.

Reincarnation of Ryomen Sukuna?

You grimaced at the sight of him. "Feh, how revolting."

He was shouting, it was as though he was looking for someone.

"NANAMIN! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Oh, his fellow sorcerer must have been trapped inside.

Well, once inside the Domain Expansion . . . Heavens know what would happen.

You continued walking. This was what you were saying that human life was very insignificant. You had seen lots of death and birth, thus you didn't care about this mess.

And yet, it caught your attention again once the Sukuna look-alike managed to break the Domain Barrier.

Hoh . . . Not bad, kid.

As he crashed the Domain uninvited, the bastard of hell had arrived. Born out of hatred and wrath, and the pragmatic philosophy of bloodshed was his dominion. And bloodshed was the devil's ink.

The barrier was shattered like glass, you even felt the momentum on your whereabouts. 

Two other characters appeared: one was a human and one was a beaten and bloodied cursed spirit.

And so, the cursed spirit was cornered and left to retreat.

Time for me to leave as well. 

You kept your presence concealed, walking with silence as much as possible. 

But your concealment seemed like did not work. In just a blink of an eye, you noticed the cursed spirit with a patchwork face and long grayish-blue hair on your side and grabbed you by the neck.

You frowned. Had he felt your presence since then? 

And from the likes of him, he would use you as a diversion sacrifice.

"The fu—"

He activated his cursed technique, and before you got transported to oblivion, you saw bright violet glows.

You felt yourself being disfigured physically, into something disgusting and filthy.

That imprudence angered you greatly. 

Before you could transform into something (aware of how this puny attack wouldn't kill you), you promptly took hold of him before he could escape.

"How insolent, huh?" you said with your most benumbed voice. "If thou must transfigure me into something, let it be beautiful . . . Fucking damn it."

Somewhere inside of you, your rage took over, it corrupted your sense of rationality and it had the ability to destroy everything it yearned.

Imagine the utter shock that he had. Then the cursed spirit witnessed how your body returned to normal.

Your cursed energy swelled without direction,  frightening the poor patched-face male alone. He had just faced the self-entitled King of Curses a little while ago, and now, he was facing you.

He had messed up with the wrong people this time.

Really, what an unlucky day.

"And don't go exposing me like that," you uttered irritably, weaving a hand seal in the process. "Drop fucking dead."

A part of him turned into dust, but his survival instincts were sharp. He altered all of the crucial part of his body in a safe angle, intercepting your line of attack.

He shrunk his form, half size down than a little earlier, and fled away to the sewers like a flea he was.

"Tch," you clicked your tongue, venomous exasperation rolling on your teeth and lips.

You were caught by the surprise when the other sorcerer, the one who had an almond cookie palette, tried to chase the cursed spirit. But he obviously didn't.

You now turned your attention to yourself.

Since you died for at least a millisecond—as the patched-face man tried to reshape the arrangement that the atoms in your body formed—you felt the sizzles of your cursed marks on your body as they were activated.

And you looked at your body . . . Your annoyance doubled.

"Fuck . . . I'm almost naked."

Some parts of clothes must have been ripped off when you got disfigured. And you loved the outfit: a black round-neck shirt, tucked in a high-waisted ash-grey trousers, a knee-length light grey coat, and a pair of high-cut platform boots. Something expensive, but you spent nothing; you shop-lifted each one of them in different clothing boutiques.

You didn't know how to hide your naked self—the left side of your body were exposed.

Ugh!! I fucking swear, when I met the motherfucking patched-face again, I will fucking end him.

Unaware of your surroundings, solely focused on yourself, someone hit your nape area hard . . .

It was immensely hard that your whole sensible self started to wander in the world of blackout.

so hi!!! i swear im alive lmaoo

i just needed a small break from this book XD ever since I finished the first act, i was happy, but exhausted. writing the first part extremely draining and it used a lot of my brain energy lol. for someone who needed to write smth ancient, i pulled it off. esp the dialogues, minna-saaaaan !! hear me, where tf did i get those??

in the midst of my break, im still smhw productive XD me is rewriting my other og novels. and if ur filo, u can read them. ♡(ӦｖӦ｡)

and i re-read some parts of it . . . and i was like ... DAMN I WROTE THIS??? i honestly have no recollections hahahah it turned out nice i didnt expect to be? 😃 and im hoping i delivered it well that i made an image in your head  hehe im kind proud rn and im boutta tear up.

im also hoping that this chapter didn't bore u out XDDD AND WE'RE IN THE MODERN ERA YAALLL

FINALLYYYY A NANAMI CONTENT THERE <33

i did sum modifications in this fic from the canon story of the series XD bc we fanfic writers are good on inserting ourselves in the scenario hahahah and a slight alteration won't hurt, does it?

thank u very much for supporting, my luvs !! i hope you're eating good food rn <3

- H A N D T H E I R E N D : ;;