Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was in the nature of villages to be stifling—just ask Nobara.

Though, if actually asked, she’d probably tack on a number of other far more colorful descriptors, such as ‘boring’, ‘stagnant’, ‘overly-superstitious’, and ‘filled to the brim with the most insufferable people you will ever have the displeasure of meeting’. Yes, she was speaking from experience, and yes, maybe some personal bias was playing a part in her assessment. But even still, she knew that she wasn’t wrong, that these attributes were the core tenets that defined every small community tucked away in the most rural corners of Japan. 

And if someone had asked, Nobara also would have told them that she’d rather drive several nails through her forearm before going to some backwater village. 

Unfortunately for her, no one had asked, so she was left to stew alone in her self-made well of opinions-so-accurate-they-may-as-well-be-fact and lament the fact that she was, indeed, being carted off to some backwater village despite having driven several nails through her arm just a month prior.

How unfair.

Without thinking, Nobara found herself squeezing her right hand around her left forearm as if trying to will a phantom pain from an injury that was no longer there. Even now, she remembered what it had looked like when the nails were pulled out of her arm, the way blood dripped freely like running ink, how she could see through each of the puncture wounds and out the other side. But now as she tightened her grip she merely felt bone and muscle, and if she pulled back her uniform sleeve she’d see skin without blemish—Shoko’s Reverse Cursed Technique really was something else. 

Tipping her head till it rested against the cool car window, Nobara huffed out a breath that fogged the glass, absently hoping it would better hide their destination from her view. From his place in the middle seat, Fushiguro attempted to silently and covertly stretch out one of his cramped legs into Nobara’s own leg space; she didn’t hesitate to respond with a well-placed kick to his shin. From her place in the driver's seat, Nitta shot the two a warning look through the rear view mirror. 

Through it all, Itadori remained oblivious, simply fiddling with his earbuds as his eyes were locked on the movie playing on his phone.

The drive hadn’t started out too bad—with little else to do, the three teens had spent most of their time chatting, starting at the new Smash Bros DLC only to somehow end up on possible dipping sauce pairings for Itadori to try with the next of Sukuna’s fingers that they find. It was fun and easy, something that had come more and more naturally since Itadori’s return from the ‘dead’. Their fights during the trip were minimal—and all broken up quickly by Nitta in the driver’s seat—and even as they slipped into an eventual silence, it had been easy and familiar.

Though right now, Fushiguro’s annoyance was overwhelming. Fully aware of the Shikigami User glaring daggers into her head for kicking him, Nobara pulled out her phone, opening and closing random apps with little intention but to make sure Fushiguro knew she was ignoring him. He eventually let out a sharp huff before sinking the lower half of his face into his uniform collar, accepting that his stubbornness wouldn’t be able to overcome Nobara’s ambivalence. 

Just as she clicked the GPS, the car struck a pothole, sending everyone lurching uncomfortably. There was a clatter as Itadori dropped his phone in the commotion, earbuds ripping out of his ears. With a tired groan, he didn’t bother trying to pick it up, instead letting his head fall forward to smush into the back of the seat in front of him. “Are we there yet?” His words came out muffled by the seat like he was chewing a large wad of gum.

Nobara blinked at her phone as the navigation loaded before letting out a groan of her own. “We should be reaching Kibogayama in 10 minutes.”

At this, Itadori’s face snapped from exhaustion to elation. “Really?” He turned to the window excitedly, despite how all there was to look at was the same trees and forest they’d seen since they’d left Tokyo.

“Nitta,” Fushiguro called out, opening up his own phone and beginning to type something in. Nobara shamelessly peered over his shoulder as he drew up an obituary. “Do you remember the names of the men we’re meeting with?”

“Hmm,” Nitta pondered for a moment, tapping a finger contemplatively on the steering wheel. “I was only given the name of the man who reached out—Takeda Hajime.” She turned over her shoulder to shoot the three teens a reassuring smile, her dyed blonde bob bouncing with the motion. “But don’t sweat it! I’m sure they’ll be more than cooperative once we get past introductions.”

“But that’s what I don’t quite get,” Itadori said with a soft cock of his head, the gesture so cute it made Nobara want to gag. “We’re being called in to exorcize a Cursed Spirit that this town has already dealt with for plenty of years. So, what gives?”

“What, do you really think there’s anyone out here capable of actually exorcizing a Curse?” Nobara shot back as she shut off her phone and tucked it into her nail carrier. “Sorcerers are in short supply in the major cities as is, so villages out in the sticks tend to make do in their own ways; mainly, religion and superstition. Maybe someone clearsighted popped up a few centuries ago and figured out something to keep the creepy things they saw at bay. So, they passed it down to their son who passed it down to their son, and so on and so forth. But nowadays, if no one really gets why they’re doing the things they’re doing…”

“Someone is bound to make a mistake, or stop altogether,” Fushiguro finished, nodding along. At this, he turned his phone to the other two teens. “‘Matsuura, age 89. Succeeded by her two living daughters.’ It doesn’t look like a cause of death was reported.”

Itadori pulled a face. “And we’re sure it was a Cursed Spirit? It’s just… I mean she was really old.”

“The people who reached out for help seem to think so,” Nobara commented, glaring balefully at her cuticles. She wondered if she could pick up nail polish somewhere in town. She could probably get the boys to let her paint their nails too if she prodded them long enough; guilt-tripping Itadori tended to be laughably easy and two against one always got Fushiguro to fold.

A flash of light had Nobara raising her head to look out the window. Finally, the endless sea of trees closing in on the dirt road they’d been navigating had broken, leaving them basking in the midday sunshine and staring out at a small town in the valley below. It was quaint and peaceful, and despite her never having set foot here before, she found that it was so nauseatingly familiar. Every lonely little village really was the same as the last.

As they rumbled along the battered terrain, a small hovel appeared ahead on the side of the road. It was a cramped but lived-in place, well worn and sunken deep into the side of a hill. Three mudstained, heavy-duty trucks were parked outside, and just beyond them, a trio of men stood waiting outside. 

“Look alive,” Nitta called out. “Remember, no matter how knowledgeable they may seem, we’re working with civilians. Let them lead the conversation; no bringing up matters like Jujutsu Sorcerers or Cursed Techniques.”

Fushiguro gave a stern nod, so serious that Nobara wanted to slap his stoic expression clean off his face. Itadori, in contrast, suddenly appeared nervous; understandable, since he wasn’t the best at carefully choosing his words. Nobara simply sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and mentally preparing herself to get looked down the nose by a trio of defensive and insufferable townies.

As Nitta pulled the car over the three teens piled out, Itadori all but scrambling out on all fours with desperation to release his pent-up energy, Fushiguro calmer but still just as twitchy and restless if one knew him well enough. Nobara was, unsurprisingly, last, pretending to check out her nail pouch, fix her skirt, and double-check her makeup before accepting she couldn’t push things off any longer as she slammed the door behind her. Nitta herself rested a hand on her door handle, seemingly trying to assess whether she needed to step out and play defense for the three students. 

A defense that would likely be necessary; it was obvious the exact moment the three tense men realized the appearances of their so-called saviors, their faces dropping in unison as they stared incredulously. Even the man who gripped a dark bottle in hand, face flushed with a cozy buzz, seemed to blink at them as if trying to make sure their appearance was real.

Before any of the teens could so much as open their mouths, the shortest of the three men worked his jaw before snapping out, “Kids!” His voice was harsh, filled with a frustrated hostility that made the thick-framed glasses obscuring half his face slip down the bridge of his nose. “Is this a joke, Takeda!? When you said you called in real exorcists, I, at the very least, assumed they’d be old enough to drive-”

“Uh, hey there,” Itadori attempted to cut in with a pacifying smile.

Nobara’s eye twitched.

“It’s not like I knew who they were going to send!” The man who spoke, undoubtedly Takeda, was a burly man with a thick mustache and heavy brow. He proceeded to massage his temple as his face began to flush a beat red. “If I’d known-”

Fushiguro cast a glance above, a silent prayer to be put out of his misery, no doubt.

Nobara couldn’t help but begin to tap her foot, agitation evident. 

“Oh, don’t even bother! What are a bunch of school kids going to do, exactly?!”

Nobara’s hand settled on her hip, itching to reach for the embossed hammer tucked away in her pouch.

“Well perhaps, we would’ve been better off reaching out to Tanaka like we’d initially discussed-”

“Enough!”

Nitta’s piercing shout was backed by the wrath of the gods themselves—it was the only way to explain how everyone fell silent and utterly still at a single word. Apparently having enough of watching her charges be talked down to, she’d swung open the car door and leaped to her feet, her dainty features pulled into an expression of righteous fury. 

“Now then,” Nitta began, circling around the car to stare down each of the men. “To address the elephant in the room; yes, the exorcists sent to assist you with your matter are all students.” 

“But-” 

“Experienced and trained students of the Religious Technical College you reached out to for help. While they may not fit whatever image you’d concocted in your heads, each of these students is more than qualified to handle this investigation. You should count yourselves lucky that all three of them were sent to handle your problem.”

Takeda’s mouth opened momentarily, but Nitta’s deathly glare had his mouth snapping shut. All three looked equally cowed by her very presence, their once chastising mouths now closed and eyes shooting down to their feet. The drunk wobbled slightly in place. 

Catching Nitta’s eye, she proceeded to flash the three teens a thumbs up and a reassuring wink. 

While Itadori and Fushiguro stared at her, dumbfounded, Nobara preened at the woman's victory. Nitta had to be the best handler at Jujutsu Tech for that scolding alone.

As the only one not caught in a stupor or state of shame at being scolded like an unruly child, Nobara rested a hand on her hip and turned her ire on the three men. “Hey,” she began, tipping her chin into the air. “So, what's this about a murderous spirit?”

Nobara leaned back against a wall and waited as the school bell rang, indicating the end of classes for the day. Kibogayama High was a small school—only a single story—and a bit run down, much like every other building in this town. Nobara knew in her heart that if she hadn’t run to Jujutsu Tech the moment she’d gotten her chance, she would have wound up at a school exactly like this.

Gross.

Their talk with Takeda and his companions whose names she couldn’t be bothered to remember was weirdly productive yet roundabout. While it quickly became obvious that none of the men truly knew what they were talking about, they gave the trio a number of leads to investigate. 

The duty of this lands people to keep a spirit trapped and contained over the centuries. A ritual, kept secret within one select family that took place in the mountains. The death of the head of that family just a few years prior. 

The son who’d gone missing out on the mountain trying to complete the ritual, only to turn up a week later without a word.

Matsuura’s death, the proof that the ritual was never completed.

It was a great start but left them utterly wanting. With so much ambiguity and so much left unanswered, they were looking at a puzzle dumped out in front of them without so much as a reference to help begin piecing it together. They knew that, whatever this Cursed Spirit was, it was old and it needed to be contained somehow. They knew that something went wrong this past year when the ritual to trap it was supposed to happen. They knew that the Cursed Spirit had killed someone-

They didn’t have much else to work with.

So, the trio had taken the information they’d been given and decided to divide and conquer. By investigating each avenue themselves, they could separate fact from fiction and decipher what really happened, how to find the Curse, and exorcize it once and for all. 

Fushiguro going to investigate the mountains was a given. Of the three, he could cover the most ground thanks to his Shikigami. While it was a shame they’d miss out on spending some quality time with his Divine Dog, Nobara and Itadori made Fushiguro promise to give the dog plenty of pats in their absence, a duty he’d agreed to with a fond eyeroll.

The remaining tasks were divided up in a game of rock paper scissors, a game which Nobara had smugly won. Knowing that a murder scene was just going to be boring and a bit pointless since the Curse had finished the job nearly two weeks prior, she was happy to hand it off to Itadori to investigate. 

This left Nobara with the most daunting, and perhaps, most important job of them all-

As the double doors of the high school slammed open, Nobara straightened up in place, brushing off her skirt as if that would make a student in an unfamiliar uniform any more approachable. A smile would probably be the right way to go, but she couldn’t shake the hostile indifference etched into her expression. As students in short-sleeved button-downs and long, pleated skirts began to filter out, she only found herself tensing further.

Right. Maybe she should have let Itadori take the lead on this one—he was easily the most approachable of the first-years.

Nobara, on the other hand, had absolutely no clue how she was supposed to convince a boy she’d never met to talk to her about what had happened when he’d gone missing for a week in the mountains. 

Indou Hikaru. 

Though, come to think of it, a better starting point would be figuring out which of the dozens of boys piling out of the school he even was.

This is better than walking around a dead old lady’s yard, Nobara chanted to herself. As students began to drift by a few cast curious glances her way but no one dared approach, leaving her stumped on how to proceed. If she just picked out a weak link, maybe cornered them and pushed them around a little, she might make some progress; everyone in a town like this knew everyone, so if she didn’t strike gold on her first try they’d no doubt be able to point her to who it was she was looking for-

“Hey, there!” Nobara nearly jumped out of her skin. So accepting of the fact that no teen in their right mind would dare approach some mystery outsider in such a small town, she was humiliatingly caught off guard by the chipper voice directed her way. 

Standing before Nobara were two girls dressed in uniforms. The taller of the two—notably taller than Nobara—wore a bright and friendly smile, her puffy shock of white-blonde hair making her resemble a dandelion. It was clear that she was the one to approach Nobara, her short and reserved companion looking on silently and a bit further back, preferring not to engage but too used to following the whims of the taller girl to actively protest. 

A preppy, bubbly, girly girl who was unafraid of talking to an outsider—no, unafraid of talking to Nobara —well, count her intrigued. It only took a moment for Nobara to regain her composure, slapping on a cocky smile and popping her hip out to match the other girl's energy. “Well, hey yourself.”

This made Miss Dandelion laugh, despite it not even being funny. “Ha! Say, I’ve never seen you around here before! I don’t recognize that uniform either,” she said. While from anyone else the words may have come across as suspicious, from her it was apologetic, as if she was supposed to already know who Nobara was and where she was from and felt guilty for being out of the loop. 

Nobara had to actively restrain herself from groaning at how tooth-rottingly sweet the other girl was. 

“Nah, you wouldn’t know me. I go to a religious school out in Tokyo.”

“In Tokyo? No way!” Little Miss Sunshine eagerly remarked.

The dark-haired girl, in contrast, made no effort to hide her eye roll as she crossed her arms. “Asako…” she breathed out.

“Oh, right!” The chipper girl continued. “I’m Asako, and this is Yuuki.” At being pointed out, Yuuki turned away, fiddling with one of her long pigtails. “What’s your name?”

“Kugisaki,” she stated, oddly light, finally stepping away from the wall to join them in the walkway. It was strange, but she’d almost forgotten what it was like talking to other girls her age. It had been months since she’d last seen Fumi in person, their occasional phone calls and video chats just not the same. And sure, she had Maki, but Maki was special, a beautiful and unique outlier in ways Nobara admired. 

“Say,” Nobara continued, suddenly finding her momentum. “Would you two be able to help me with something?”

Yuuki’s death glare was answer enough, but hers wasn’t the answer Nobara was banking on. And there, in all her overflowing kindness, Asako simply cocked her head with a curious look. “What is it?” Itadori, Nobara’s mind suddenly supplied. She was basically a female Itadori—Nobara didn’t know whether to be impressed or disturbed by the revelation. 

“I’m looking for someone,” she continued, trying to get the image of the girl in front of her with pink hair and Sukuna’s eye scars out of her head. “He goes to this school, but I’ve never actually met him.”

“Oh? We should be able to help with that!” Asako smiled easily, quickly linking her arm with Yuuki’s, who remained sullen but offered zero protest. 

Casting a glance across the schoolyard where many of the students still milled about, a few beginning to gather their bicycles while others congregated in groups to make plans as they walked home, Nobara took her chance. “I’m looking for Indou Hikaru. Do you know him?”

Their reactions were instantaneous; where Yuuki simply looked at her with a passively raised eyebrow, Asako’s smile faltered, almost cracked. Those wide eyes of hers grew wider, her face twitching uncomfortably as if she didn’t know what to do with her expression. It all had Nobara straightening her spine, ready for the worst-

“Oh, Hikaru? Sorry, but ya missed him. He left school early today.” Asako’s face was back to normal, her smile easy and apologetic as if nothing had been wrong in the first place, and Nobara felt her shoulders slumping in disappointment.

“Right,” she responded unenthusiastically. “Any reason he left early?”

“Hmm,” Asako pondered, eyes drifting off before they lit up. She raised a hand over her head, waving for someone’s attention. “Oh, Yoshiki! C'mere for a second!”

Nobara followed Asako’s path of sight, turning to face their new arrival-

Nobara’s hand was gripped tight around the handle of her stowed hammer before she’d even processed her movements, so instinctive that she had to actively stop herself from drawing her weapon in front of a whole school's worth of civilians. Her heart beat in a frantic rhythm, desperate to ricochet through her chest, up her throat, and out her mouth if she wasn’t careful. She was tense, tight, a reaction impossible to repress at the sight before her.

Yoshiki was an older boy, tall, skinny and pale. Freckles decorated his washed-out complexion, eyebags serving to underscore his glassy eyes. Limp black bangs fell into his face, partially hiding a reserved and tired expression. All this to say, he was ordinary.

Should have been ordinary.

Cursed Energy coiled around Yoshiki like an oozing venom, desperate to seep into his pores and consume him in its entirety. It was roiling and possessive and dangerous, undulating and shifting with a variety of colors and patterns the way a poison dart frog warned off predators. It was a weight that hung heavy on his shoulders, tousled through his hair, entwined between his fingers—at one point on his arm it seemed to mesh with his very flesh, skin melting and stitching into Curse until they were one in the same, mixed and inseparable in every way.

Nobara’s grip went white-knuckled on the handle of her hammer, Cursed Energy beating and pulsing deep within her chest. 

A technicolor ribbon slithered around Yoshiki’s neck, possessive and adoring in its tenderness. 

Nobara’s stomach flipped once, twice. Somehow, she felt like she was intruding, watching an intimate moment not meant for her eyes. 

“Kugisaki?”

Nobara released her panicked grip on her hammer, her hand falling to her side. She flexed it into a fist, unsure what else to do that wouldn’t lead to direct violence. “Yeah, I wasn’t- I got distracted, can you repeat that?” she asked Asako, yet never once tearing her eyes away from Yoshiki.

Yoshiki stared back at her, face bored and seemingly oblivious to the suffocating mark of possession laid on his very body—no, his very soul—by one of the most twisted Cursed Spirits Nobara had encountered yet.

“...I was just sayin' how Yoshiki and Hikaru have been best friends since they were kids. So, Yoshiki, d'ya happen to know why Hikaru left early today? Kugisaki here was hopin' to meet up with him!”

At that, Yoshiki’s eyes narrowed, a slight frown tugging on his lips. The undulating slurry of flesh and Curse rippled in protest, shuddering and bubbling and—a bruise? On his arm, was that a bruise? It almost looked like a handprint-

“He felt sick,” Yoshiki offered curtly, clearly none-too-pleased with Nobara’s inquiring into Hikaru. “Why do you wanna to talk to Hikaru? He doesn't know any out-of-towners.”

Psychedelic tendrils squeezed his body in a mark of ownership, so unsightly and unnatural yet so at home. 

Nobara’s body began to tremble with the effort to stay rooted in place. “It has to do with his dad,” she blurted out without really thinking. This clearly surprised Yoshiki whose tense shoulders suddenly loosened, raising a hand to wring it along the back of his neck.

“I see, I see…” he muttered.

The repetitive words got a giggle out of Asako, either oblivious to the suffocating tension in the air or determined to ignore it for the sake of maintaining a semblance of peace.

Finally, Yoshiki’s eyes met Nobara’s with resolve, having come to a decision. “I’m meetin' up with Hikaru after my mom gets home from work; I’ll let him know you’re lookin' for him.” As he spoke, he walked past Nobara to reach a nearby bike rack, hands settling on the handlebars of a slightly rusted, light blue bike. He let his thumb trail along the ribbed edge of the handlebar, gaze snapping down to worn shoes that he scuffled uncaringly against the tightly packed dirt ground. “If he can, he’ll make the time to talk to you.” ‘If he can,’ clearly meant ‘if he wants to,’ in this situation. 

“No, that’s-” Nobara’s phone began buzzing, cutting her off. She immediately began to fumble for the phone, certain that she’d turned off notifications. If it were Itadori, she could probably ignore it, the other boy often pushing through on calls for the most mundane things. But staring back at her was the contact for Fushiguro. She bit her lip in frustration. “I… have to take this.” 

Spinning on her heel and taking several quick strides away to push her out of earshot, she accepted the call and immediately snapped into her phone. “What.”

“I found something big. We need to meet up. Itadori is already on his way.”

Nobara nearly growled under her breath, containing the noise of frustration only barely. “...Fine. Fine. But we’ve got a whole new problem to deal with-” 

Gone. Having turned back around as she spoke, Nobara was faced with an emptied courtyard, the two girls heading out the school gates where Asako flashed Nobara a friendly wave goodbye. But there was no tired boy with an old bike, skin and flesh and blood marred by an unyielding Curse. He was gone.

The Cursed boy was gone.

Yoshiki.

This time, Nobara very audibly growled.

Things had just gotten a whole lot messier.

The crossing signal for the train track flashed ominously, a clanging rattle echoing closer as the tracks bisecting the street began to shake. The red and white gate arm lowered to stop the nonexistent traffic, a pointless effort that made the street feel all the more desolate. If she craned her head to the side, Nobara could probably spot the cargo train chugging its way down the tracks.

She didn’t bother.

Instead, she glared at the Cursed Spirit hiding in the crossing gate.

Perhaps it didn’t try hard because most people would never be able to see it, but Nobara found its attempt at hiding laughable at best. Its presence was an ugly gash tearing through the quaint little street, a blemish left to fester and grow infected. 

If anyone else had looked its way, perhaps it would have remained dormant. But a Cursed Spirit knew when a jujutsu sorcerer looked at it, and now that it’d been discovered, this Curse certainly wasn’t happy. 

A head began to peak out from the lowered gate, its flesh mottled and purplish-blue. Long, stringy hair tumbled forward to hang toward the ground, weighed down with an oily dampness. The sharp rattle of the barreling train grew louder, now accompanied by an obnoxious clanging of warning bells signaling the train's encroaching path. The ground began to shake slightly underfoot.

A nail struck true into the Curse’s forehead before it could even poke out its eyes, its head lurching back on its limp neck. 

A snap.

“Hairpin.”

A clamoring concussion of Cursed Energy ripped clear through the Cursed Spirit’s skull, tearing its head apart with a single blow. What little of its body had crawled out into the physical plane was shredded by the punch of power from the little nail, leaving behind nothing but a lingering unease and a few strands of thin black hair caught in a buffeting breeze.

Nobara’s arms lowered to her sides, hammer heavy in one hand and two more nails nestled between the fingers of the other. The train burst into view with the bellowing cry of a horn and the crash of metal squealing against metal. Discolored box cars bullied into view which she watched with bored disinterest. 

A Cursed Spirit in the middle of a village such as this one was incredibly unusual. Even if someone had died here, she saw little reason for enough negative emotion to build up into something so substantial. Thankfully, it had been even easier to exorcize than she’d expected; she’d forgotten just how weak most Curses out in the country tended to be compared to what she’d been dealing with over the past few months. She’d grown quite a lot since arriving at Jujutsu Tech.

The train continued to lumber past, a sharp squeal of adjusting brakes making her flinch slightly. Nobara was tempted to stow away her nails, but the buzz of Cursed Energy refused to recede, sitting somewhere on her periphery that left her ever so slightly on edge. It crept closer out of view, and slowly she raised her hammer and nails out, defensively crossed before her chest in a ready position. She held in a careful breath, fingers tightening on the comfortable grip of her hammer as she focused on her opponent just on the other side of the train and beaten tracks.

The train finally passed, revealing the street beyond.

“Woof!”

Nobara released her held breath in a sharp rush of air, arms dropping to hang loose at her sides before going to stash away her tools. Fushiguro’s Divine Dog wagged its tail at the sight of her, sitting patiently in place as it waited for the crossing gate to rise. 

As the beating rattle of the train began to grow distant, the crossing gate stopped flashing and lifted, allowing passage on the unbusy street once again. Nobara let her hands fall comfortably to her hips as she strode across the tracks, watching the dog perk up further and jump to its feet as she approached. She couldn’t help but run a hand through its thick, black coat as the dog lept excitedly to her side and then danced forward in a quick trot to guide her.

“Good boy,” she said.

The dog let out a pleased bark in response.

During their phone call, Fushiguro had mentioned meeting up at the same home where they’d originally met with the trio of superstitious townies to go over what they’d found. It hadn’t been ideal—Nobara knew for certain she didn’t want to bring up whatever was going on with Yoshiki in front of those guys—but since they were there at the behest of those very same men, she wasn’t in the mood to push back. Besides, she knew it went without saying that they would have their own discussion of findings afterward without the prying ears of civilians.

But when the Divine Dog began to lead her down a street she knew for certain went in an entirely different direction than where they’d planned, she paused in her steps, eying the dog with confusion. It waited in the street, wagging its fluffy black tail apologetically while whining softly. 

Nobara checked the first-year's group chat—no service. Just her luck, a dead zone.

Pocketing her phone as a small edge of worry crept into the back of her mind, Nobara followed the Divine Dog down an unfamiliar street. The dog didn’t seem to be in any kind of rush, and she had faith that those boys could handle themselves for at least a few hours. Still, she made sure to walk at a more brisk pace than before.

During her walk, she only passed two cars and half a dozen people on the street, each of which gave her too long and too considering of a look. While she’d never fit in back in her hometown, she’d never truly been an outsider. She knew it wasn’t the same, but she couldn’t help but think of Saori and all the judgment and ridicule she faced for simply being herself, a woman too big for a set-in-its-ways little village. 

This village was particularly sleepy in a way that would have made Nobara go crazy to live in; she didn’t understand how all these people did it, how they were all so utterly lacking in change and ambition and excitement. She could never empathize with the kinds of people content to live and die without ever wanting to explore beyond the tiny bounds of their cage. For a tiny little bubble where everyone knew everyone, it was painfully lonely yet too stifling at the same time. 

A pleased bark and a flash of pink had Nobara rolling out her shoulders and slowing down her urgent pace. Fushiguro’s dog Shikigami pleasantly trotted over to Itadori who was quick to smile at it, reaching to ruffle its fur while cooing out pleasant affirmations. His other hand was clutching a plastic bag emblazoned with a logo matching the quaint convenience store he stood in front of. Beside him, Fushiguro watched Itadori quietly, letting the other boy shower his Shikigami with affection. 

Striding up to the two teens, her loafers clacking sharply with each step, Nobara glared at them both. “You stopped for snacks? Seriously?”

“I was hungry,” Itadori replied innocently. His hand lifted from the dog's head and immediately began to dig inside his plastic bag. Before Nobara could comment, Itadori let out a triumphant sound and drew out a sealed pack of dorayaki that he held out to her. She glared at him for several moments until he began to squirm in place, then flashed him a smile and snatched the packaged snack out of his grip. It crinkled pleasantly in her hands as she tore it open, the sweet smell of red bean hitting her nose and making her stomach growl. 

“C’mon,” Fushiguro mumbled, casting a cursory glance down the quiet street. “We should talk. I found something.”

Nobara and Itadori simply blinked at him in unison, mouths stuffed with food—Itadori had torn open a bag of chips and begun noisily crunching on them just as Nobara had taken a large, fluffy bite of her dorayaki. Fushiguro’s eye twitched.

Swallowing down her bite a bit too soon so that it sank like a rock down her throat, Nobara waved a palm in the air as she rested her other hand on her popped-out hip. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not the only one with big news. I’ve got a lot to share, too; things around here are way more messed up than we realized.”

The trio drifted around the corner of the convenience store, Fushiguro’s Divine Dog melting into shadows as they arrived in the narrow back alley. The alley was hardly visible unless one walked directly by its entrance, and while there was a backdoor for staff on the side of the building, it was blocked by a stack of cardboard boxes, a guarantee of privacy for the time being. 

Without so much as an exchange of words, Itadori and Nobara jumped up to sit on a seemingly long-dead air conditioning unit. Nobara had quickly finished her sweet treat, depositing the wrapper in Itadori’s shopping bag before shoving a hand into his bag of chips without permission to continue snacking. Itadori didn’t protest nor comment, simply shifting the bag so that it sat between them, making it easier to reach.

Standing alert in the middle of the alley, a worried furrow to his brow, Fushiguro bent down to rest a hand on the ground. Before any questions could be asked, his hand sank down further, consumed in his shadow as he rummaged around. The shadow rippled as he explored it, maintaining a thick viscosity caught somewhere between ink and tar. Nobara did her best to keep her expression disinterested, even when she was internally quite impressed—the whole ‘shadow pocket dimension’ thing was quite the handy trick. 

By the time his hand had disappeared all the way up to his wrist, he’d found what he was looking for. She felt it before she saw it, a gloomy dread catching in her chest as Fushiguro withdrew what looked to be a weather-beaten fanny pack. Pushing past any discomfort, Nobara and Itadori leaned forward, both wary yet curious of the item. 

“My Divine Dog found this when we were out in the woods, earlier,” Fushiguro explained as he began to work at the zipper. Reaching inside, a shiver ran its way involuntarily down Nobara’s spine despite not being cold. She and Itadori stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the item Fushiguro revealed in his hand.

“What is that?” Nobara couldn’t hide the disgust from her voice. Because in truth, she already suspected that she knew exactly what the shriveled, blackened stone in Fushiguro’s hand was.

Fushiguro held it aloft with one hand, fingers pinched carefully around it as its dead expression faced them, eyes staring with vacant depth. “It’s a shrunken head.”

The long beat of silence was broken by the loud crunch of a potato chip. 

“Ew, ew ew ew ew ew!” Nobara cried out, pulling her whole body up onto the air conditioning unit and away from that thing as a full-body shudder tore through her. “And you touched that with your hands?!”

Fushiguro’s face pinched up with annoyance, cheeks slightly pinkened. “Itadori has eaten several mummified fingers but this is where you draw the line!?”

“Itadori is just like that!” She fired back. “I thought you were better than this, Fushiguro.”

Now, his flush turned a bright, angry red.

“Hmmm… are you sure it's a head, Fushiguro?” Nobara and Fushiguro jumped at the same time, too caught up in their own bickering to notice Itadori sliding off his perch and shoving his face nose-to-nose with the tiny head. “It kinda looks like a rock, to me…”

Up close to one another, Nobara found Itadori and the shrunken head to be pretty similar. 

Both had dumb expressions. 

With a low huff, Fushiguro pulled his arm back, keeping the shrunken head far out of reach of Itadori in all his obliviousness. “I’m sure,” Fushiguro stated. “I’m sure because it’s a Cursed Object.”

Nobara paused in her scramble to get away from the disgusting head, collecting herself as she tucked her legs to her side to sit comfortably as she looked at it directly for the first time. And Fushiguro was right; with her attention now focused on the shrunken head, it was obvious that it wielded a significant amount of ominous Cursed Energy, no doubt accrued over many long years. Adding in the fanny pack used to carry it around, Nobara was beginning to piece together the picture.

“Someone was using it to ward off other Curses?” she asked.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Itadori jumped in. “Like with Sukuna’s finger back at my old school! It was used to keep away Cursed Spirits until the seal on it broke, right Fushiguro?”

“It’s similar,” Fushiguro nodded as he packed away the small head back into the bag. His expression was collected but the urgency of his actions spoke volumes to his disgust with the object. “This one isn’t causing any problems, though. It would have served well to protect its wielder, though its range isn’t too big. But that leaves me to wonder why I didn’t encounter any Cursed Spirits during my entire time on the mountain.”

Nobara frowned; that didn’t match her experience at all. “Wait, none? Seriously?”

Fushiguro nodded. “Not even any residuals. This Cursed Object is definitely powerful, but not powerful enough to clear an entire region.” He rubbed at the back of his neck to wring out any tension. “I think it's what we feared; something came down from the mountain.”

A low thrumming kicked to life, rattling Nobara’s whole body and forcing her to scramble off the suddenly active air conditioning unit. It continued to hum deep and low even as she stepped away from it and closer to the two other boys, its motor an unpleasant buzz that droned pervasively. She did her best to regain her composure, patting down her skirt and fixing her hair.

“Not something,” Nobara finally spoke as she tucked a loose, rust-dyed strand of hair behind her ear. “Somethings. Maybe they aren’t all from the mountains, but there are definitely more Cursed Spirits here than there should be for a village this small. I even ran into a Curse on my way here.”

“But I’m guessing that’s not the problem you mentioned.”

“No.” Nobara’s thoughts were consumed by that boy, his flesh, blood, and bone laden with the weight of malevolent Cursed Energy. “I didn’t have any luck catching the Indou boy at school, but I found something a lot more worrying. I met a guy who was Cursed.”

This had both Itadori and Fushiguro perking up, eyes widening as they watched her curiously. Of the two, Fushiguro was the first to speak. “What do you mean?” 

“That sounds bad,” Itadori added with a small frown.

“Bad doesn’t begin to cover it,” Nobara fired back, scuffing a foot against the ground in frustration. “It was like this Cursed Energy was… not trying to consume the guy, but merge with him. It was possessive.” She couldn’t help the way she crossed her arms close to her chest at the very thought. 

“Did you get his name?” Fushiguro asked.

“Yeah. His name is Yoshiki, and he couldn’t have been much older than us. And get this; apparently, he’s best friends with Indou Hikaru.”

“That doesn’t sound like a coincidence…” Itadori trailed off.

Fushiguro’s expression darkened. He’d always been better at piecing mysteries together than Nobara or Itadori. “The Cursed Spirit from the mountain,” he announced as he leaned his back against the far alley wall, drowning his upper torso in a crawling shadow cast by the setting sun. “Indou Hikaru was supposed to seal it away, but he failed. So, what are the odds it followed him down and latched itself onto his friend?”

“Why wouldn’t it claim Hikaru then?” Nobara countered. “If it were me, that’d be the easiest choice.”

“Maybe it needs a certain condition, like the Cursed Spirit at Yasohachi Bridge. The Cursed Spirit from the mountain-”

“Nounuki.” 

Nobara and Fushiguro froze in their back and forth, blinking in surprise before turning to face Itadori who was blushing slightly at having interrupted. “It’s just-” Itadori continued, face growing even more red as he attempted to justify himself. “You keep calling it ‘the Cursed Spirit from the Mountain’, which is a mouthful. I figured using its name would be easier…” he trailed off awkwardly.

If Nobara weren’t so stunned she would have been half-tempted to slap Itadori upside the head.

“Itadori,” Fushiguro finally said with a careful tone, pinching his eyes closed to steady himself. “How do you know the Cursed Spirit's name?”

“Oh—Sukuna told me.”

“What.”

Fushiguro and Nobara launched themselves into Itadori’s face, backing him in with no place to run. They immediately dove in with a string of overlapping condemnations, leaving Itadori with little else to do except raise his hands in surrender and accept their verbal lashing. 

“Itadori, what exactly did Sukuna say-”

“And you’re only mentioning this now-?”

“It’s been a month since he last did anything, you should have let us know-”

“Let us know? Forget that, what about Gojo-sensei-”

“Woah hey, hey, hey!” Itadori all but shouted the last word, finally cutting off the two other teens long enough to catch his breath and run a hand through his spiky pink hair. While he looked guilty for not having spoken up sooner, he didn’t seem worried about the matter at hand, though this meant little since Itadori’s priorities could be quite skewed at times. 

“Look; it's not a big deal. Definitely not a big enough deal to bother Gojo-sensei,” Itadori emphasized, making sure to meet both Fushiguro and Nobara’s eyes as he spoke. “He’s just… being annoying. He does that sometimes. And sure, it’s been a while, but that doesn’t mean anything!”

“Are you really that dumb?” Nobara was quick to snap. Worry bubbled up to a blazing heat, and she couldn’t help but let it boil over into anger. “The last time Sukuna did anything was at Yasohachi Bridge. You know, where Fushiguro had to fight a finger bearer-”

“Sukuna didn’t mention any of his fingers being here!”

“And since when has he ever been nice enough to give us a heads up about that?!”

At this, Itadori’s mouth hung open, at a loss for words. For a brief moment, Nobara felt a thrill of victory, only for it to give way to a lost sense of guilt as Itadori’s expression fell. He really was far too likable; Nobara wanted to hate him for it but knew that she never could.

The whine of the air conditioning unit finally ended, dropping the trio into an uncomfortably stagnant silence. 

“Okay,” Fushiguro finally started, expression schooled into a collected mask, determined to play peacemaker. “We don’t actually know why Sukuna started interacting now, so we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions. Right?” he added with a look that said they had no choice but to agree.

Itadori was quick to nod along, while Nobara simply averted her gaze with an affirmative hum. 

Content that the other two teens weren’t going to interject, Fushiguro started again. “So, Sukuna told you the name of the Cursed Spirit? Just like that?”

“Well, it’s not like he was trying to help,” Itadori explained. “He was just saying all sorts of things to get me riled up when he mentioned Nounuki. I don’t think it was on purpose 'cause he’s been quiet since.”

When neither teen responded, Itadori couldn’t help but elaborate. “I think he’s brooding.”

Fushiguro still looked dubious and Nobara couldn’t help but quirk a questioning eyebrow. At first, she was tempted to ask what exactly Sukuna had been saying to set off Itadori, but the hesitant look on his face told her that it would be pointless. Itadori may be a lousy liar, but that never stopped him from playing things close to his chest if it meant taking everyone’s burdens on himself. 

“So, Nounuki may be more powerful than we originally thought,” Fushiguro noted, helping to keep things objective. “Older too, if the King of Curses knows about them.”

Nobara didn’t like the sound of that; just how many missions were they going to be sent on that turned out to be way above their pay grade? Nobara pulled out her phone and began plugging the Cursed Spirits name into a search engine. As her crawling internet connection struggled to pull up anything, she turned to the other two boys. “What’s our plan of attack, then?”

“Nitta is still with the men who hired us; we should probably report back to them. If it's a local legend, they may know more about Nounuki.”

The loading bar timed out—No service. Figures.

“What about Indou Hikaru?” Nobara asked, tucking her phone away with an annoyed grimace. “He’ll be at his home this evening, and his friend—the Cursed guy—is gonna be visiting him. Two birds, one stone, and all that.”

While Fushiguro pursed his lips, ready to protest, Itadori was quick to side with Nobara. “I want to go meet them—if he’s Cursed, he’s probably in danger. If something were to happen to him tonight because we decided to wait…” he trailed off, voice somber. Nobara was tempted to cringe; while she appreciated his endorsement, Itadori was once again far too empathetic for her liking. 

Her reasoning was far more selfish; the sooner they confronted Indou Hikaru and dealt with Yoshiki’s Curse, the sooner they could exorcize the Cursed Spirit itself.

And the sooner they could get out of this backwater village and return to Tokyo.

With two-against-one, and with Fushiguro always seeming to fold at the sight of Itadori’s puppy-dog eyes, he finally agreed. “I hope you know where we’re going, then.”

Nobara smirked. “Nope! But just watch and learn, boys.”

Turning sharply on her heel, Nobara sped out of the alleyway with the other two first-years trailing directly behind her, a school of fish hugging close to the underside of a hunting shark. 

And hunting she was, as Nobara turned into the convenience store with the soft chime of an overhead bell. There was only one checkout counter, lined with lighters and a basket of overripe fruit. And there, sitting behind it with a book balanced on her thigh, was a middle-aged woman who adjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose as the three teens trailed inside. 

“Ah, you boys! Back so soon?” The woman questioned, narrowing her eyes with mistrust as she took in their unfamiliar faces and matching, unfamiliar uniforms. “Did you forget something?”

Shrewd, observant, and undoubtedly nosey. Bingo.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her hair, Nobara put on as bashful an expression as she could. While she knew that she was in no way selling it, probably coming across as more angry or constipated, the woman didn’t seem to mind. “Sorry to bother you, but we haven’t been in town for very long, and I’ve gotten myself completely turned around. Would you happen to know where I can find the Indou home? I wanted to pay my respects; my dad used to work with Hikaru’s dad, you see.” 

And there, those once suspicious eyes sharpened, lighting up with pure interest as she ate up Nobara’s every word. “Oh, of course! You know, that poor boy Hikaru, and his mother, too. Say, did you hear about-”

From there she was off on a rant of rambling town gossip, so personal and intrusive that Itadori found himself blushing a few times while Fushiguro simply buried his face into his collar and pretended to be asleep standing up. But Nobara was used to this and kept a pleasant and interested smile on her face. 

Everyone in a town like this knew everyone, and while it was insufferable and suffocating from the inside, right now it was exactly what they needed.

Because after ten minutes of hearing about Yoshida’s recent pancreatic surgery, the Tsujinaka’s youngest child skipping school, and Matsushima’s drinking problem, they finally got the information they needed.

Directions to the Indou’s home.

The shrieking cry of cicadas was as grating as it was unrelenting.

As the sun sank below the treeline, bathing the unpaved streets in a holy glow of burnt sunset, their cries only seemed to build from all directions. Nobara wondered how anyone out here was expected to think with such a racket, let alone live.

Fushiguro grumbled lowly in annoyance at already having walked half an hour north with no home in sight. He kicked a rock that went rolling a ways down the path in front of them, irritation evident on his face. 

“We should have gotten Nitta to drive,” he huffed. “It’ll be night by the time we get there.”

There was a harsh sputtering from beside her as Itadori accidentally swallowed a bug. 

City boys. How pathetic.

“Suck it up,” Nobara simply fired back. 

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if the Indou’s turn us away because of the time of night.”

The cicadas continued to rattle in Nobara’s ears, crying their song of disorder, of dissonance.

The trio crested yet another rolling hill, guiding them further and further away from the quiet town of Kibogayama and into the rural boonies of the nearby village Kubitachi. It wasn’t surprising that they were directed to the far reaches of the community, with Kibogayama being surrounded on all sides by a number of small villages that bled into the semi-developed town. Families often settled in one place for generations even when a more populated town developed a ways away.

Unchanging, even in the face of change. Nobara had seen it more than enough times.

Besides, this was nothing compared to the trek she and Fumi would take to get to Saori’s home, though perhaps it had only felt so long because they’d been so young back then. 

Too lost in her thoughts, Nobara felt it before she saw it. 

Pressure built at the forefront of her head, forcing all three young sorcerers to come to a sudden stop. All of her muscles locked up involuntarily, a cold drop of sweat trailing down her neck. She had to actively force herself to grab at her hammer and nails just as Itadori’s fists raised with power and Fushiguro’s hands settled into the shadow play for his Divine Dog, yet no one made a further move. She didn’t have to ask to know they were just as disturbed, as unnerved as she was. 

A stifling presence, hot and rotting, made itself known. It was awful, dreadful, and stalked toward them with the gait of a prisoner trudging to the gallows. Its sedated nature was the only reason Nobara didn’t stagger under its oppressive weight, ten times the threatening aura that had festered under Yoshiki’s skin.

Right now, it was so cloying that Nobara wondered if it had begun to burrow into her own flesh. 

The clanging jeers of the cicadas fell silent.

The entire field was silent.

Then, the crunch of gravel. Another.

Nobara’s hands clenched painfully tight around her hammer, yet she felt as though her only tools of defense were suddenly too heavy, liable to slip from her fingers at the slightest motion. She wanted to sink to her knees and into the ground, away away until whatever it was was gone and never to return.

Yet another step.

So much worse. This was so much worse than the finger bearer, worse than the death paintings. 

Step.

          Step.

                    Step.

A figure crested the hill before them, bathed in the bleeding light of the setting sun, and Nobara didn’t have to think to know what she was seeing. Sun-kissed skin and choppy, white hair. Pale eyes that glowed a deep red in the light. A face, filled with writhing, shifting, undulating, yet entirely unreadable emotion. And all of it, so utterly wrong.

When Nanami and Itadori had faced off against the Curse with the patchwork skin, it had spoken of the form of the soul. According to the Curse, the human soul could be transfigured into the form of a Curse, and that a deformed soul could never be restored to its original state. 

But what about the opposite?

What became of a Cursed Spirit that took on human flesh?

Nounuki, wearing the skin of Indou Hikaru opened its mouth-

The screaming squeal of tires on dirt had Nobara jerking in place. Like a broken trance, she looked away toward the rapidly approaching sound that chased them from the direction of town. Old wheels clacked as a weathered bike pulled into focus, its rider panting with exertion as he powered toward them. Drawing closer, Nobara couldn't help but tense all over again as she took in familiar lanky limbs and shaggy black hair.

Yoshiki drove his heels into the ground to force his stop as soon as he was close enough to the small group. His body trembled where he stood straddling his bike, panicked eyes only partially hidden behind sweaty bangs. His lip quivered with anxiety, gaze snapping from the trio of sorcerers to the monster beyond them, then back again. 

That roiling Curse under his skin sang in resonance with its master. 

Nounuki had Cursed Hikaru’s best friend rather than Hikaru, but Nobara hadn’t understood why until now. It had Cursed Yoshiki because Hikaru’s corpse was already serving a very different purpose.

What were they supposed to do? Could they even fight a Curse possessing a human corpse?

“Yoshiki?” a voice warbled, tones and pitches lanced through with heavy distortions. “Did you… bring them here?”

The Cursed Spirit twisted Hikaru's face with a deformed imitation of betrayal and hurt, scrunching up its features till it looked ill. Limbs hung loose at its sides, twitching and jerking slightly—in a living being she would have thought it to be a motion of anxiety, a desire to flee from a situation he was unsure he could remove himself from. In this walking carcass she saw nothing but cadaveric spasms, the lurches of a corpse post-mortem as the last impulses of life fled its body. 

Itadori—brave, selfless, courageous Itadori—took the first step toward Nounuki.

Nounuki immediately staggered back in response, steps mirrored as though in a dance. Its borrowed eyes wobbled with emotion, as if to tear up, only for the pupil to begin to bleed and melt into sclera, black-red-blue all dripping into one another. 

"Sorcerers," Nounuki muttered, lips parted and softly wobbling. That face twisted by sorrow began to twist in a literal sense, discoloring and distorting into a writhing mass of Cursed Energy, only barely contained to a physical form. "I thought..."

Nobara raised her hammer and nails hesitantly, eying the undulating form to discern its weakest point. Uncertain, she aimed her nail at its one remaining eye which saw straight through her, past her, accusatorily. 

Yet as she tried to force herself to act she found herself frozen. There was something beyond about this Curse that made her uncertain how to react—perhaps it had to do with the fact that attacking meant desecrating a corpse, or maybe there was some other power at play. 

Judging by the way neither Itadori nor Fushiguro made a further move to attack, they surely felt it too. 

"I thought ya liked me..." it said, its words a lifeless echo meant only for Yoshiki. Cursed Energy pulled and twisted skyward as Hikaru’s face of distress melted, spilling over in a rippling mob of viscous patterns and bursts of violent color. 

"What did I do wrong?" 

A sharp clatter had Nobara halting mid-swing, her trained situational awareness stealing her attention for just a moment. Yet a moment was all that was needed as Yoshiki discarded his bike onto the dirt road without care, charging past the trio of sorcerers before any of them could make the first move. Nobara sucked in a panicked breath, unable to make sense of why this kid wasn’t running away, screaming for his life. She was horrified, ready to watch as the Cursed Spirit attacked Yoshiki, consumed him, something-

Yoshiki spun on his heel between the three sorcerers and the Cursed Spirit, glaring them down with dark eyes filled with resolve. He situated himself so that Nounuki stood directly behind him, planting his feet while spreading his arms out wide and defensive. There was an anxious tremble to Yoshiki's limbs, his chest heaving with exaggerated breaths that he seemed to be fighting to keep controlled.

And through it all, Nounuki didn’t move. It stood in place, barely holding itself together at the seams as its very face slipped away into an incomprehensible, swirling cosmos that reflected a burnt red in the light of the setting sun. Its expression was unreadable, but its body language and posture were another matter entirely—one foot back, prepared to flee, its hands pulled tight and protective to its chest.

“...Yoshiki?” Nounuki asked, dazed and slightly hopeful. 

Nobara adjusted her palm into a more comfortable position on her hammer, swearing under her breath in annoyance at the loss of a clear shot at the Curse. 

“Get away from him.” Fushiguro’s growled-out words pierced like a stone dropped atop thin glass, cracking the fragile, remaining peace and leaving it on the verge of shattering apart entirely. “Yoshiki, right? I know this must be hard to hear, but you need to understand; the person you’re protecting? That’s not Indou Hikaru.”

She expected Yoshiki to withdraw, or at least doubletake. Even if he couldn’t understand what was wrong, still couldn’t see the true form of the very Curse before him, there had to be some kind of doubt inside. All they needed was a momentary flinch, the slightest of shifts. She and the other first-years may have been too unsettled to act before, but now Nobara resolved to move at the first opportunity. 

This thing was dangerous. They had to end it now before it remembered what it did to Matsuura and decided to try it out against them.

But against all expectations, Yoshiki didn’t falter. Expressions dashed across his face in a kaleidoscope of shifting emotion, too fast to make sense of. He heard Fushiguro’s words, churned them through his head, and digested each one with clear comprehension. 

Through it all, he didn’t budge. 

“Of course, he’s not Hikaru,” Yoshiki finally said, voice eerily flat. “Hikaru is-” 

A hitch of breath. The slightest crack of his voice. 

“...Hikaru is dead.”

A cool breeze tumbled through the hillside, ruffling clothes and carding chilled fingers through hair. Yoshiki kept his gaze trained on his feet, letting his bangs curtain his eyes from the teens before him. Nobara spared a glance toward the other two sorcerers, taking in the way Fushiguro looked uncertain, clearly thrown for a loop, and the way Itadori’s face pulled with distress.

Right—this was familiar to him, wasn’t it? Itadori hadn’t talked much about his month spent playing dead, but they did get the highlights. And that included his investigation into a teen their age who’d colluded with a Cursed Spirit. How the guy had trusted the Curse, even when it had tried to turn them against one another.

And how that very same Curse had killed the boy in front of Itadori, laughing through it all.

Anger, frustration, and annoyance all flared hot and fiery in Nobara’s stomach. “So, what?” She called out, gesturing sharply with her hammer. “You’re okay with that thing using your friend's body?”

Yoshiki’s shoulders rose up to his ears with tension. He continued to look away, his lips pulled into a thin line. “It’s not that simple.”

The coiling, undulating enigma that was Nounuki began to recede, face stitching back together until Cursed Energy was neatly tucked away behind the mask of a dead boy. If it weren’t for the pervasive rot that clung to its presence, it could almost be mistaken for normal. 

Nounuki extended its hand out, fingers ghosting over Yoshiki’s wrist in a loose, possessive hold. The shape of its hand matched the ugly, purpling bruise on Yoshiki’s arm perfectly. Even still, Yoshiki’s body loosened at the touch, a soft breath releasing between his lips like a comfortable sigh. 

Coward. 

Nobara couldn’t have removed the bite from her next words even if she’d wanted to. “So, you must also be okay with that thing having killed Matsuura? Right?”

Yoshiki’s head snapped up, dark eyes reflecting amber in the last dregs of sunlight. They were wide and startled, searching her face for a trace of deception, a hint of a lie. His skin, initially flushed from the hard bike ride, washed out to a ghostly white in seconds. “...What?”

Panic flashed all over again across Nounuki’s borrowed face. Its hand drifted down, fingers beginning to lace with Yoshiki’s own. “Yoshiki, you don’t gotta listen to them-”

Yoshiki jerked his own hand away, tearing it out of Nounuki’s hold. For the first time since he’d placed himself between the two parties, Yoshiki turned to face Nounuki with an appraising eye. Nobara heard Fushiguro grunt in frustration, and she had to agree; while she finally got a partial line of sight of the Curse, Yoshiki stood essentially chest to chest with it, making attacking without risking Yoshiki’s life impossible. 

“Is it true?” Yoshiki asked, his words clipped. “Did ya kill Old Lady Matsuura?”

“...Yeah.”

It was as though by gaining a human body it learned to more perfectly emulate human emotions, shame evident on Nounuki’s stolen face. Why? What sort of Cursed Spirit felt remorse? 

Yoshiki’s head fell into his hands, body shuddering in revulsion. A startled breath, then another, ripped from between his lips. Nounuki’s face fell even further, pinched with sorrow and confusion as it raised a hand toward Yoshiki as if to comfort him. Yet Nounuki’s eyes locked with Nobara’s own, her glare threatening violence if it so much as tried to touch Yoshiki again. Cursed Energy flared to life in her tools to further emphasize her point.

The Cursed Spirit withdrew its hand, letting it fall limp to its side.

“Why would you…” Yoshiki trailed off before shaking his head. “Don’t answer that. We’ll discuss this later.” Turning to face the three sorcerers, Yoshiki’s expression was flat and cold, eyes narrowed with distrust. Even still, it was obvious he was putting on a brave face, hands fisted and shaking at his sides, skin now ashen like he was about to be sick. “If you don’t have anything else to say, then go. I have this under control.”

An incredulous scoff slipped out before Nobara could stop it. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What Kugisaki means to say,” Fushiguro cut in before she could put her foot any further in her mouth. “Is that you may not realize it, but you’re out of your depth. We know how to handle-”

“There’s nothin' for you to handle!” Yoshiki snapped. His anger was sudden and it was fast, yet dissipated just as quickly as it appeared. Once the words were out he proceeded to sag in on himself, deflating as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “Just… leave us alone. Please.”

Nounuki continued to fidget behind Yoshiki, seemingly uncomfortable in its ill-suited skin. 

“I don’t think we can do that,” Itadori said. Out of the three, he was the first to drop his combat-ready posture entirely, raising his hands up peacefully as he took a few steps forward. His face was sullen and contemplative, the kind of look the pink-haired boy rarely wore. “I know you want to trust Hikaru, but how do you know he won’t hurt you?”

Yoshiki opened his mouth to argue only to pause, hand drifting along his arm to press on the hand-shaped bruise branded into his skin. As he touched it, the Cursed Energy fused into the wound pulsed, and Nobara saw Fushiguro flinch at the sight.

“Yoshiki’s safe with me,” Nounuki spoke up, yet offered no further elaboration. The Cursed Spirit shifted close to Yoshiki without touching, a planet caught in a sun's orbit. 

Watching them so close to one another, Nounuki’s Cursed Energy bled and curled between the two, mixing and blending from one body to the next. 

Safe, this was anything but.

Throwing her head back in frustration as she rested her tools at her side, Nobara glared at the sky which had begun to melt into a cool, blue-violet, stars creeping out. The sun had finally fallen beneath the horizon without them even noticing, the final dregs of daylight retreating. “Ugh, we’re getting nowhere. I thought this was supposed to be a simple mission?”

Fushiguro grunted. “Since when do our missions ever wind up being ‘simple’?”

“Mission?” Yoshiki softly repeated under his breath before clearing his throat and speaking up. “Hikaru called you guys ‘sorcerers’.”

Both Nobara and Fushiguro blinked, suddenly at a loss for how much they should tell the guy who was colluding with a Cursed Spirit. However, Itadori had no such reservations. “Jujutsu Sorcerers; we exorcize Cursed Spirits.”

Nounuki’s expression hardened, eyes going flat and sclera wobbly in a way that made Nobara’s skin crawl. “Me. You’re here to exorcize me.”

Nobara narrowed her eyes. “Unless there’s another ‘Curse from the mountains’ that you happen to know about-”

“Wait,” Yoshiki spoke up, cutting Nobara off. His eyebrows were scrunched together, his expression distant as he thought something over. “I’ve never heard of Cursed Spirits before, but I think I know what you’re talking about. And if that’s the case…” Yoshiki’s eyes widened. “You’re here to exorcize Hikaru 'cause he’s dangerous, right? Because you think he’s a danger to me.”

“Well, there are more reasons to exorcize a Curse than that but-”

“Yeah, basically!”

“Itadori.”

“What?”

“Well, what if we can prove that Hikaru ain't a danger? That he’s helpful?” Yoshiki finally uncrossed his arms from their defensive position over his chest, taking advantage of his tall height to give an impression of confidence. Looking at him now, he was easily as tall as Fushiguro. “What if Hikaru can exorcize bad Curses?”

“A Cursed Spirit exorcizing other Cursed Spirits?” Itadori questioned. “I mean, Sukuna exorcized that finger bearer in the Detention Center, but he didn’t exactly do it for good reasons…”

At the mention of Sukuna, Nounuki seemed to twitch, his full body flinching in an involuntary reaction. Interesting. 

“I think those Curses are things that we’ve been callin' impurities, and if they're the same thing, then Hikaru has already saved me from two of them,” Yoshiki explained. “There was one that attacked me out in the woods, and another that scared my sister in our bathroom.” 

“There are a lot more Cursed Spirits in town,” Nobara supplied, beginning to realize where this was going. 

“Yoshiki,” Nounuki chimed in, still glaring at the sorcerers. “What are you-”

“We work together,” Yoshiki cut in before he could lose his momentum. “If Hikaru were to help ya exorcize the other Curses in town, then that would prove that he’s not a danger to me. That he’s helping. Right?” There was a soft desperation in his voice, a protectiveness that made Nobara’s head spin.

Fushiguro frowned. “That’s not how this works.”

“Why not?” Itadori shot back, much to Nobara’s surprise. Out of anyone, she would have thought Itadori was more than sure of the danger that Cursed Spirits posed. “I’m just saying; Yoshiki has known that Hikaru was a Cursed Spirit since before we got here, but he still trusted him. There’s gotta be some reason for that.”

When neither Fushiguro nor Nobara responded, Itadori smiled slightly, that small and friendly smile that melted Nobara’s heart in the most frustrating way. “Why don’t we try?” he asked.

It took another ten seconds of kind smiles and soft eyes for Nobara’s resolve to crack, and another fifteen after that for Fushiguro. Nobara let out a loud sigh. “I guess it's better to keep it in sight than to leave it to its own devices.” 

Doing his best to maintain his tough exterior, Fushiguro mumbled out a low, “Fine.”

Yoshiki’s entire face relaxed, his features smoothing out for the first time that whole day. With the permission he’d been seeking finally received, Itadori was quick to impress himself on Yoshiki now that they weren’t staunchly on opposite sides. At first, Yoshiki didn’t seem to know what to think, but Nobara knew it wouldn’t be long before the two were chatting like old friends; Itadori had that kind of obnoxious charm to him. Fushiguro kept himself slightly distant, glaring on and off at Nounuki while pulling out his phone to text Nitta what was bound to be an incredibly confusing update. 

The Cursed Spirit wearing the skin of Indou Hikaru looked on, utterly baffled.

Three sorcerers, a civilian, and a Cursed Spirit. What could go wrong?