▬▬ ancient relics: eyes like the graves

IT SEEMED LIKE A NIGHTMARE THAT GOT TRAVERSED INTO REALITY.

It was as if the gates of hell were opened, and the creatures of the dark had been awakened.

A great sickly fog had enshrouded to an extent, swallowing up the whole parameters and everyone in it.

All of your life's essence became were reduced up to millionth fractions—blood splattering on the ground from the heights. No one knew who was controlling all the tendrils, and now you were nowhere recognizable.

Thus, it happened in a sudden cue, there emerged two figures from the great split above. They were humanly-likes, concluding they were curse users, descending from the air as they stepped on your bloodied state as if to disrespect your existence.

Gojo and the others were about to come to your aid, but another freak show was manifested before their eyes.

You were made up of a highly variable substance that was black and dark red both in the core and the edges. The air smelled metallic and decay, filling up the entirety of you range with crippling fear. If one could listen closely, one could hear the faint cries of something otherworldly. It seemed like the voices were calling for your name, repeating it synchronously like a mantra.

On that moment, you started to regenerate from the pool of blood when you were being ripped to shreds. Your healing appeared out like a smoldering lava, no shape had formed yet, only a pile of flesh and blood, and each piece of you was crawling out one at the time. Still with your dead-but-still-undead form, you released all the demonic energy you could muster.

Everything in that place became bloody, almost pitch black, and complicated.

You had culminated massive cursed energy throughout your life, even gaining dominance over the energy of the curses you had exterminated in your domain. You allowed them all to roam free within the two-kilometer vicinity of Tokyo Tech, the great plumes of fire-like energy blazed on the ground like a flowing water, creating a river of bloody cursed spirits. As the air stank of death, it also previewed your glory and dominion. And among the spectators, there appeared esoteric symbols in the distance and the light coming from your cursed energy flashed haphazardly.

It was your frenzied presence—even in your fragmented state—and all the way leaving whirring cursed energy, piercing with twisted columns as black as the night.

And ah, it enraged you. Greatly. Immeasurably. Antagonistically.

The two unknown figures wearing cloaks, however, stood there in silence, very cold, their faces were a mask of ice, watching your rampage with observant eyes while moving around you at an easy pace.

"Huh," the one uttered, "this must be one of your secret techniques for retaliation."

"Surprised that she's still alive even after all that." The other one stared at the regenerating pool of blood in front of them.

It has taken a shape now, signifying that you were about to gain your consciousness again.

"A formidable opponent, indeed." He looked at the surroundings filled with demonic energy. "These curses must be very vital for her prowess and immortality."

You must have collected an infinite numbers of them through out the century, and that kind of technique could only be manifested in a specific scenario.

Such power, they could only commend. It could be imagined as concept, but as for yours, you literally turned an idea into reality. By will, with your consciousness intact, you could easily manipulate those curses to wreak havoc, and yet as of now, they were just moving around without a purpose like empty puppets.

"We better head back now," the one who seemed to be the senior cursed users told his companion, "the other sorcerers are about to arrive."

Lo, they beheld, a half part of your arm had fully healed. You made a hand seal to give commands to cursed spirits. Thus, the bloody stream of cursed energy grew thicker and a barrage of needles-like energy gushed towards the two unknown figures.

Yet your attack meant nothing, when the senior cursed user did a counterattack.

It seemed like your cursed technique got evaporated, getting nullified as if the energy was no longer be exploited to perform its work.

The same thing happened as you fought them a little while ago, and that was why you got defeated in seconds and squashed into pieces.

At that point, your recovery had reached your head, thus your consciousness returned.

You saw the enemy trying to flee away towards the void-like passageway in the air.

When you were about to create a jutsu shiki, your arm got bound again by the reddish black tendrils and snapped your limb off.

It was just a momentarily shock, and your pain tolerance was high that you didn't mind the torment.

Attempting to weave a new seal with your other hand, but like the first, it got revoked.

"There's no need to be agitated," said the one who could repel your cursed technique, "we only came here to give everyone a greeting."

The emotions in your eyes went awfully dismal.

"Greeting?" you repeated as your words weighted a grave threat.

"Apologies," said the cursed user that appeared to be the leader, smiling mockingly at you, "for it wasn't the most appropriate greeting for a highly reverenced person like you."

As the surroundings fell in red and black wicked plumes, it rose and waved steadily back and forth in the air inside the veil you created.

You stood with the curses while you left arm was left bleeding; although you didn't mind, because the other part of your body were still in the process of healing. Whilst, the two unknown men ascended towards the aerial breech, and in the luster darkness, their faces illuminated faintly by the smouldering milieu.

"Simply," he added, "we came to observe you. And still, we will definitely meet again. In the battlefield—that is."

You eyed them perfunctorily. You could have attacked them again if you wanted to, but you already predicted that it would be rendered meaningless.

Observe me?

It was a staged plan then.

As your face was entirely numb and featureless, you had no qualms whether if they would depart right now.

On your periphery, a sudden mass of red energy came rushing in. Your head turned like a stone carving to the moving energy targeting the unknown men as it set bright and lit the inside of the veil.

It was Gojo Satoru's technique.

The unknown cursed user quickly cast a hand seal for his defense.

And just like how water turned into vapor, so was Gojo Satoru's Reversal Technique: Red.

Before Satoru could chase them, they fled right away as the portal slammed shut.

Having no means to pursue them, Gojo stared at space with dry satisfaction, a bit wordless in disbelief.

Those curse users . . . Satoru pondered. They could use high level of teleportation technique.

Every time, those curse users and cursed spirits they met were becoming more distinct and stronger than the usual.

It must be a premonition or a gut feeling . . . But for Satoru, it seemed like something horrible would happen to him—or at least, in the society of sorcerers.

If such a thing would happen, while he trusted his close colleagues and students, he needed someone that could shield them from the worst things.

Satoru panned his gaze on you from the heights. He could sense and immense power from you as if his eyes were about to burn. In that river-like of bloody curses, you were like the epitome of the decline. The great plumes of negative energy oscillated and set the ground alight. The way he viewed you was like a conspicuous double-edged sword standing out in the wilderness, glinting in diabolic red, black, and even in gold.

You received a huge damage from the intruders as soon as you got transported back there—and hell, even killing you.

The only surefire way to kill a human—even the Great Gojo Satoru himself—was through severing the brain's connection to the rest of the body. He clearly saw how those tendrils squeezed the living shit out of you, but even after death, something got awakened out of you.

Your regeneration was slower than usual, Gojo noticed. He remembered when you told him that your healing only took seconds, thus he speculated that you might be intentionally delaying your recovery.

Maybe because you were pushed to limits, thus you were healing up to cellular and tissue in a semi-conscious state.

The ground was still scorching, and from the ground rose smoldering vapors that swarmed of cursed spirits. The spirits had human forms and they bellowed a great centaurean cries of woes and worships, and their cries echoed out over the plain of the mountains.

As your healing progressed, your form was changing as well, it was as if you were transforming into a monstrous being, but the beauty imbedded within you didn't grow dim or be tarnished by the hideous entities.

You, the Thine Highness undergone a series of changes in your body within a few moments. As a priestess and a royalty before, you appeared barefooted. Your hair grew longer up to your knees and flowed freely—still in radiant black highlighted by frequent white streaks and in the ends. There protruded of horns one over each eye with similar shape and size of a branching tree. Your hands and feet was colored in the darkest shade of black and you grew sharp claws. Your whole body also got covered with radiating black cursed markings that resembled crawling snakes; it had a reminiscent of serpents twisting into each other like an infinity symbol. As your clothes got torn, the mysterious energy amidst you started to weave a pattern altogether, covering you with a robe that was made out of pure cursed energy.

Everything was power. Everything was magnificent within your presence, and everyone was ought to listen and bow at you.

There was only power, your reign, and malignancy, and rage.

". . . do not let anyone die with all your might."

Gojo recalled the Vow he bestowed to you, because he knew that no one could do a damn thing to stop you ever.

And more than that, with a dastardly certainty, Gojo supposed that you could end the world if you wanted.

The white-headed sorcerer descended from the air and approached you either calmly or distantly. Up close, he could clearly see the black and red droplets spreading from your fingertips, across your whole body, as though you were being eaten alive by a colony of termites.

Your cursed extruded unrelentingly like the roaring tides in the oceans.

It wasn't a puzzle needed to be solved. What was in front of him was you true form.

How it was happened was the time to bring it up, and then quench the resolute dark energy in the whole area.

As Satoru timidly stepped closer to you, still with a shit-eating grin to show confidence, he lowered his mask to see you eye to eye.

He saw the displeasure lingering on your benumbed visage.

"You look different," he commented as if to break the ice.

"Idiot," you said, not too coy, but also a little insipid.

He was immediately relieved to hear your half-hearted remark, concluding that you were still conscious of your surrounding and who you were with.

Gojo was holding back to say anything to pour more fuel to the fire, thus for once, he was choosing his words carefully.

"I though you died."

Yet his very own words and character betrayed him.

You smiled quaintly, "I thought so, too."

You were ought to dismiss him right away, for a depths of displeasure in a form of cursed energy had been rippling out of your body.

Taking a step, Gojo immediately blocked your path.

Amid the dazzling and searing particles of cursed energy, you looked at him intimidatingly.

"Move."

It was a command, almost coldly and sternly, but Gojo paid no mind.

"Nope," he replied a little playful, unbothered by your threat. "You need to explain yourself, Ryusei."

You smirked, antagonistically, eyes in the zenith of apathy. "Do you seriously believe that I'm in the right mind the explain myself now?"

Satoru gave you a magnanimous smile. Instead of succumbing to your diabolical presence, he took it as a form of an entertainment. It was true that you were not in the right mind of explaining; your cursed energy was slipping out with monstrous shapes and aberrant wails, and they appeared glitching, so static like a white noise.

"You do not want to raise suspicions, do you?" smirked Satoru, confident to have you dancing on his palm.

You were about to refute, yet a significant a presence bloomed from behind. With that alone, all your glory and madness had faltered.

Nanami.

He was there.

And even among the sorcerers and students there, you felt him, and his presence alone that only matters.

Defiantly, with narrowing gazes, your cursed energy and its shadow plunged down and vanished. As the veil got disintegrated, the darkness went out, and the light fell.

Gojo schemed to that malleable reaction of yours, and he would gladly to prey on it. Perhaps, if having all the means to control you, he would wage Nanami at all cost.

He couldn't even hide his triumph, and he let out an audible smirk.

You only sighed, it was as if you read everything what was on his mind.

"You're a piece of shit," you sputtered, eyes growing dark.

"Don't be like that, Ryusei~!" He couldn't even hide the contempt in his voice as he immediately hugged you by the shoulders and pinched your cheek. "Aren't we besties? Please stop killing me with those glares ~ ♡"

You exhaled a sharp breath, frustration still painting your skin. Your annoyance bled through the icy crevices of your chest, then meeting Satoru's swirling blue depths of eyes, and swatting his arm off. Your hair swayed in the process, and then you began treading the nearby bench. All eyes were on you, your cloak dragging on the ground and it rustled as you sat.

"Pardon the unsightly appearance of me," you said quite abjectly, your spirits lacking of enthusiasm.

You never wanted to stay there anymore, knowing how hideous of you to look at. Sealing yourself could last long for hours, and keeping your cursed energy from flowing was the best thing you could do at the moment.

Everyone knew who and what you are: through and through, an open display of malignancy and omnipotence, of displeasure and hate.

"Then?" you began, "What do you want me to say?"

You couldn't even keep your gaze at the people in front of you, only looking afar as if staring at the oblivion.

"Where were you after all this time?" Gojo mused. "You were nowhere to be found for seven days."

You forehead creased unceremoniously. "Seven," you uttered, disbelief echoing in every syllable, "seven days?"

"Yes, why?"

"That long?"

Gojo mirrored the bewilderment on your face. "You mean?"

You went silent for a bit, analyzing the scenarios before things went awry. You recollected all the details once Mahito pulled a sneak attack on you. All this time, you thought that you only passed out, not knowing that seven days went gone by fast.

Then, it only made sense when the words of the cursed user sprang like liquids on your consciousness.

"They did it to observe me." An answer was finally shed amongst those questions. "And probably trying to strip me out of the picture for them to execute their plan."

The Thine Highness was truly an enigma. If anything, you were an undiscovered element.  Born in hell or heaven-sent—a design worthy to fathom out.

"To learn more about you, huh?" Satoru concluded. "Wait, in the first place, why were you even caught?"

A tiny smirk was heard beneath your breath. "I wonder why~?" You shrugged with hidden mischief as if to raise a mistrust towards you.

"Ryusei." Gojo sounded apprehending.

You only made a rueful face as a response. "I underestimated the situation, you see."

It must be a stupid for an excuse, but there was nothing behind that scenario.

"And?"

"And I got caught."

"For seven days?" he quipped.

Looking back, there was a reason why your disappearance lasted for a week, and why you were insentient about it.

"Well, I'm sure enough that everyone knows it by now, but among the enemies, there's this cursed user who's highly skilled when it comes to transportation techniques." You raked your fingers through your long hair, sliding it down, and curled the strands that remained. "I met the patchwork cursed spirit after my visit to the Tomb of the Star Corridor, talked for a little bit, and before I knew it, a door appeared below my feet. The door transported me to the sea . . ." At least you were sure you were in the sea, because you know what the sea tasted like. "Before I could take actions, the water became frozen, and I instantly lost consciousness."

Your alibi was plausible. Being in the state of deep sleep, but not having significant damages that could potentially kill you, the cursed user must be skilled enough keep you alive while you hibernate for long in a controlled environment.

"Your cursed technique didn't react that time, huh?" Satoru commented.

"Yes, because my body concluded that I just went to sleep."

Emergency-detection-type of  cursed technique, only working once you were in the verge of death.

Because of your captivity, Mahito managed to steal six of Sukuna's sealed fingers and three Special Grade "Cursed Wombs". Gojo had conclusion of how did Mahito slipped through Tengen's barrier. The only pathway leading to the tomb and cursed warehouse was only known by Tengen and protected it through manipulating over one thousand shuffling doors.

Surely, it would be very difficult to pass through . . . Unless some was invited inside.

"Ryusei," Gojo began again after a few moments of pondering, "why were doing in the Tomb of the Star Corridor?"

Your mouth twitched upward, your face contorting as you detected a suspension from his articulation.

Nonetheless, you played it cool. You had nothing to hide, in the first place.

"I just visited an old . . ." Words left hanging on your tongue as you looked at your blackened claws. "An old friend, you can say."

It was open secret by now that you and Tengen had met in the past. In all those months working in the jujutsu, you never showed your face to him. Since you had a little free time, you decided to go there. A coincidence—nothing more, nothing less . . . Just a distasteful consequence of your choices.

And if ever Gojo and the other sorcerers suspected you, they should also question Tengen about it.

"And the reason of your visit is because . . ?"

"Because of this." You gestured your whole appearance gracefully. "It appeared that Tengen had transcended into something."

Yes, just like you.

It must be the punishment for living to eternity. Although with Tengen's case, he failed to merge with a Star Plasma Vessel—which was a special type of human that could help him maintain his immortality and cursed energy.

"I have already accepted it long time before now," you muttered disdainfully. "All living things are meant to evolve, either way."

But still, you hated it—an absolute horrendous sight.

Humans having supernatural abilities was already a glaring proof that evolution was one of the laws of nature.

None did say a word after your manifestations. Not because they were doubtful or agreeing with you, yet they were rather struck by your ephemeral beauty. Truly, your plebeian self was already a pleasure to behold—a mortal beauty as as soft and gentle as that of a heavenly nymph. But with your current form, the Thine Highness's beauty needed not the beauty of a heavenly nymph.  A beauty that could cut sharper than a knife and deeper than crystals. A beauty that was everlasting, untouchable and unattained by the mortals.

"Then?" you prompted, getting a little impatient with that trial, "Are there still questions I need to answer?"

Gojo cleared his throat. "Have you noticed other details when you got transported to the enemies' lair?"

Suddenly, an important details gleamed on your mind, and it reflected to the twitch of your eyebrow.

"Right," you uttered, "the ice user—the one with a bob cut—she's Sukuna's loyal attendant, I met her before. " Millennium years ago—that is.

Satoru drew a hand to his chin, muttering. Your testimony was aligned to the bald cursed user they captured. Although he denied that he wasn't aware of their true purpose, things made clearer when you came back.

"To observe you, huh?" he said. You only nodded, disinterested. "How about those cursed users who toyed you around?"

Gojo's tongue was unrestrained, not even filtering his wordings to you.

You only ignored it, even though it was crass to your ears.

"If your eyes are good enough, you must have known that one of them has a cursed technique to nullify cursed energy." Yes, the one who had his tendrils wrapped around you and crushed you out. "The other one . . . Well, I'm not really sure."

It wasn't a nullifying technique as well, it far more complex, far more superior.

"As far as the Great Gojo Satoru had seen, he seems like can transform energy into another form."

Nothing could escape his eyes, not even a single detail.

When Satoru charged his Red, the enemy cast an almost invisible plane of his curse technique, weakening his Red and converting it into less useful forms—such as low-frequency photons—which are then dispersed into the environment.

You hummed. "I see. The very physical manifestation of Conservation of Energy Law, huh?"

Energy exhausted gradually dissipated into the surrounding environment, but the energy would not be destroyed, only be scattered.

"He's not as invincible, then," you added, "but speeding the process of it at an absolute is incredible."

"He can manipulate time also—is what you're saying?"

"Not sure. If he can, it's only for a limited time. He's perfectly coordinated with his partner. After the technique was struck, he would nullify my counterattack and defense next."

"But not invincible." He mimicked you. Most of the sorcerers operated in pairs, thus they could stand a chance when the time came if they needed to face them.

"Are you sure?" You tilted your head to one side. A smile of mayhem gracing your lips. It was superficial, condescending, and belittling. "I got defeated in seconds, y'know?"

Gojo made a face, dismissing your retort. "You underestimated the enemies."

He could read well enough: there was no weakness found in you.

You only nonchalantly shrugged.

When a lengthy silence was about to linger, a gasping scream roaring and parted the near-ending discussion.

"Demon! Demon! You sickly beast!"

There came an old man, panting as he appeared to be running all the way there with his whole life.

"I have warned you!" he exclaimed as he wheezed in every word. "That thing is an evil incarnate!"

You only scoffed at his horrified visage.

That accusation never grows old.

Devil's bitch. Bride of Satan. Curse. Plague. Beast. Whatever-the-fuck-it-is.

You became calloused of that fact, and you were taking it as a compliment. It was always a pleasure to piss someone off, of the fact that it never bothered you right from the start.

"You! All of you!" The old man exclaimed while sweating profusely. "Go exterminate that trash!"

Even if he was a higher-up, none of the sorcerers listened to him. They knew your capabilities—how omnipotent you were—and whatever means they would do right now, it would be rendered futile.

He threw a scene when his so-called underlings ignored him.

"Give it up, old fart," Gojo only said in mild annoyance. His authoritative figure had no meaning amidst your presence.

The higher-up only had his mouth hanging, feeling as if he had seen maggots on his tea, while he gnawed to what was he seeing. He was still a sorcerer by all means and he could still perceive your unrestrained cursed energy reverberating.

You could hardly calm yourself, whilst to everyone's eyes, you looked like you'd never been wounded, shredded, and bled senselessly. Your appearance was still dazzling, and only to come back as if to be entertained by the pathetic show of the old man.

He was terror-striken, having the visage of a corpse, and then he cried, "We're all going to be killed . . . That rotten creature has came to kill us all!"

You were a reminiscent of the past. There were memories you wished to obliterate and forget, but your curse didn't want you to forget.

You had lived on rage and anger. You dwelled it in, savored in it. You were set on fire, burning you, and got fueled even more by rage. And once you got laid free from your self-restraints, the memories from Kálíkhaan and Kemi flashed not only through your mind's eye, but also through your raging cursed energy. It reenacted the scenarios of those unfortunate nights in front of the spectators without your control. Fast displays   of children burning along with their mothers, and thousands of civilians crying and praying out of their grief and desperation to their gods only to have their heads slain, then turning everything into dust. Your curse had recorded those events, stored it, and tortured you in every waking moment.

Lo, then! You learned how to tame your demons and made them as a part of you. You beguiled and intimidate people, even the most powerful men ever existed. You would being them grovelling to your feet in either deep fear or reverence. You would trounce a mental war with your mere cursed energy, then traping and ensnaring a soul with just a few seconds.

Lack of guilt or remorse, it didn't matter. And you didn't bother yourself with such an illogical feeling, nor searching for a meaning of a moral concept; no one wanted to be weighed down by some nonsense emotions.

Well, then.

You only needed to prover their accusations true. You were a vile creature and you just had to live up to its name and to shame.

"You aren't wrong." You stood up as you spoke to the higher-up. "And everyone should consider his warning fair; I'm not someone to trifle with." With your hair cascading flawlessly, you began the opposite direction away from them. "Dare I suggest you to consider to an option of not compromising yourself to someone whose nature is to betray and destroy."

Everyone stared forward to you without meeting your eyes. Once you turned your back, Gojo's gazes particularly sliced you in the skin, probably getting the threat from your declarations.

"Don't play with me, Ryusei," he said sternly.

"Your complacency will be your death." You subtly shook your head. "I feel liberated right now."

Gojo realized by then.

A free person again after your recent death.

The Vow—it was now broken and nulled.

You were truly an epitome of a beast. You seemed to be contented on waiting, stalking and studying the ones around you. The sorcerers, cursed users, and curses were an easy prey for you, but you sure took pleasure of playing with your food first as you prowled at them with a half-bored and half-amused demure.

Yet Gojo wasn't sold that you betrayed them, or you would betray them. He had seen instances that others had not, and that would be his stronghold.

Thus, instead of getting riled up of your false pretentiousness, he said, "Utahime arranged a drinking party for us tonight."

You pivoted your head and glanced at him over your shoulder. Contemplating for a bit. Given your current state of mind, his invitation didn't appeal you, for you beyond feeling repulsive beyond control.

"I'll send you the location tonight, Ryusei."

Without giving Gojo a concrete answer, you only waved your hand.

All you wanted was to feel numb again. All you could think of right now was those crystallized substance coursing through your veins to conceal the rottenness in you until you would feel your blood running cold, until you couldn't think anymore, until nothing mattered any longer.

You didn't touch any of your vices for a long while, and all you desired was to consume those sweet, sweet psychedelic substances. You only wanted to be ripped out of the reality and to forget your cursed, curse self.

From there on fort, you began walking away from the audience, and the lone place you could temporary retreat to was your old dormitory room.

eh ... atp, i'll just write
whatever deluluness
i have in me 💀
zayne and nanami are
both of my hyperfixations
rn. and the only reason
why i can still feel emotions

and this took a while
and it's killing me
writing the scenes
piece by piece is too
much work 💀 but really,
i want this stone to be
done alrdy, but my life
full of bs won't allow
me to. so yeah blah blah

ig, also, thanks for still
sticking around.
i really appreciate it

- nana