STIGMA, Jujutsu Kaisen

one

CHAPTER ONE, 一

KUROSAWA HOSHIKO was someplace far, far away. She was dying, dead. Her body submerged under the depths of the earth, decomposing. A place devoid of life. The living feared it because of that; it kept them at bay. And so, she continued to decompose. Her muscles became so rigid that she felt her joints being locked into place. The crawling insects were all over her once, soft and porcelain skin – they have already made their claim. Her flesh was cold. It was so cold that she doesn't feel anything, all except numbness. Her arm stretched out beside her, her slender fingers splayed out as if she was reaching for something, for someone.

Please, come back. Come back to me.

A stray tear slipped out from her charcoal eyes. Her chest, crushed by the many layers of the earth. She released a single breath. She wanted to bring her hands up to her throat and claw the skin open. Perhaps she would be able to breathe again.

In her mind, the mind that was slowly festering away, she was at a constant battle with herself. Now nearing the end of her days, the voices were merely a quiet whisper. Alas, they were still here, taunting her. She didn't know where this old feeling arose from. The fear settled in her bones as the realisation dawned on her.

She didn't want to die. She wanted him to hold her again just like he did that day. She wanted to see his eyes; shades of myriad blue swirled together, the colour of every dancing sky, illuminated by the sun. His eyes, a universe on its own. She wanted to see the wisps of ebony hair that fell softly onto his forehead. His gentle smile whenever she did something clumsy. She wanted to feel her arms wrapping around her stiff body before relaxing moments after. That teasing smirk stretched across her sharp features. She wanted to remember the feeling of that hand reaching for her in the darkness. Hoshiko wanted to see them. She just wanted to see her friends again. To be with them again.

Save me. Please. Save me.

But her punishments had not yet been served.

To think death was a stranger. If she could, she laughed at the thought. She grew up accustomed to it. Death was no stranger to her but that didn't repel the lone fact that death was still death. It was pain, horror, everything the darkness swallowed. It was the darkness itself. And this was where she was now.

           YET HERE, Kurosawa Hoshiko was her skin and bones fighting the cool evening wind. Her lips stung with the desire for a cigarette, but she discarded her habit long ago and so she wouldn't allow herself to give in so easily. As a result, she released a frustrated sigh and continued battling the coolness that settled comfortably in the evening with her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her coat.

Hoshiko froze.

Her muscles twitched.

All was quiet.

She looked up just as the street lamp above her flickered.

A strange and unwelcome feeling arose from deep within Hoshiko. She didn't know what this feeling was, but it was strong enough to make her freeze up and her heart beat a little faster. It was almost like . . . like something from her buried past, digging its way back to the surface.

Hoshiko's hands immediately pulled her hand out of her pocket to touch the cold hilt of her blade inside her coat. It calmed her down but did not eradicate the feeling. Finally, after a few moments, she found her composure and continued her journey back home, but her steps were careful and slow. Her hands fell back into her pocket and her eyes wavered side-to-side. As more time passed, her body relaxed. She was only a minute or two away from her house.

Hoshiko stopped once again. The realisation came crashing down upon her with the great force of inevitability.

She had spent so long trying to bury her past, trying to run away and punish herself, she had almost forgotten what she was.

Hoshiko pressed her lips together and suppressed any ounce of fear within her.

She held her chin and walked forward. Her pace quickened with every step. An idea came into mind when she saw a dark alleyway ahead. She turned into it, slipping into the darkness. It was the atmosphere she worked best in; she had learnt how to use it to her advantage.

Hoshiko pressed her back against the wall and held her breath. She already had her hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of her knife. Waiting was always the worst and some part of her wished that her intuition misled her but unfortunately, it never did.

A tall figure slipped into the darkness.

A foreboding feeling overcame her body. Something tickled her intuition awake, arousing a forceful reaction. Something within her shifted. Her hunch stirred.

She pulled her hand away from the hilt of the weapon, only hoping that her shifted intuition did not mislead her.  A step away and out from the shadows.

Hoshiko froze.

The figure took a step forward, exposing themselves under the dimly lit street lamp.

Her eyes widened, unable to stop the horror leaking into her black orbs. She stepped back, almost stumbling. The air she breathed grew thick and dank as the darkness of the night surrounded them. Her brain became so staggered that for a moment everything became a blur of darkness. Her voice is lost in the depths of her throat, her lips barely parting.

Hoshiko felt the weight of the universe, holding her down.

"Gojo-san?"