PROPHET GIRL jujutsu kaisen

o. Prologue

I ETCH MY OWN FACE UPON MY WICKED FLESH. / I AM MY OWN DEVASTATING GOD.

As I gaze upon her, a chilling sight unfolds before my eyes. Her once radiant complexion is now marred by a grotesque mask of crimson.

The girl's body is drenched in a thick, sticky layer of blood that clings to her like a macabre second skin. Trails of scarlet run down her face, resembling rivulets of despair. Her disheveled hair, once a cascade of midnight locks, now matted and tangled, clings to her blood-soaked scalp. The girl's clothes are soaked through, the fabric clinging to her like a second shroud, stained with the evidence of her ordeal.

She sits there, an embodiment of agony and terror, a haunting reminder of the horrors she has endured.

"I'm sorry." Her words were barely a whisper, carried upon in the wind. She had barely enough strength to even let the syllables fall from her saccharine lips, the evidence of lassitude and torpor left behind from her anterior actions.

I find her standing in a macabre setting, a haunting setting. Surrounding her is lifeless corpses frozen in the process of decomposition. The air is heavy with an eerie silence, save for the girl breathing heavily. My eyes navigate the through the somber landscape, each corpse telling its own story.

The girl, a lone figure amidst the death, is left to contemplate the fragility of life and the transient nature of existence.

"I didn't mean to... I was just scared..."

Her words were left hanging in the air, breaking the eerie silence, but somehow it made the atmosphere even more heavy.

Fear is a compelling force. It can diminish our spirits, or ignite our internal strength. For her, fear became a catalyst. A catalyst for strength. Fortitude she didn't even know was possible for her to conjure.

"You've placed a target on your back." I said. But I knew this was a bigger deal than anticipated. Because this girl... she's chaos personified.