𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑮𝑶𝑳𝑫 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐋𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋

TIME SLOWED DOWN AS SOON AS THE WORDS WERE OUT OF ITS MOUTH. They burned hotter than any possible fire, and as Mikazuki replayed them in her head, she let go of the Curse's arm. The sorceress stumbled a half-step back, however, she was quick to regain her balance, stepping back into the Curse's space and kneeling in front of it as she grabbed the lapels of the tattered remains of its shirt.

"What do you know about Keisuke!?" She demanded, shaking the Curse harshly before pressing it back against the wall, whatever little flames were left quickly turning to embers as its body struck the wall once again.

Mikazuki's voice was cold, yet it was laced with something dangerous, and the Curse could feel it, like a silent threat slowly trickling into the room, an ominous presence that had settled into her soul and refused to leave.

"Twisted, that was– it's the name of the curse that killed him. His name is Twisted." The curse spilled.

The sorceress clasped her hand around the Curse's arm, twisting the bone out of its body. She felt no remorse, even as she listened to the whimper that fell from its mouth. Curses were filthy things, and Mikazuki would not spare a second thought if it indeed had information that could shed some light in her brother's murder.

"Speak fast, curse. I'm not a patient person."

It was command, one the Curse was far too eager to answer. Anything to postpone the terrible torture awaiting at Mikazuki's hands. Satoru continued to stare, both marvelled at the sight and terrified at the implications that came with it. Gojo had tortured his fair share of Curses too – it was part of his job as the strongest, and he'd never questioned it until now.

This was different, yet at the same time it was so familiar it made a sick feeling settle at the pit of his stomach. It was like watching himself in a mirror, and for the first time, Satoru realized he didn't like what was staring back at him.

Mikazuki pulled at the broken bone again, the Curse's screams echoing in the room like a prayer.

"Twisted is new, was born only a couple of months ago." The curse spoke so fast Mikazuki could barely understand its words. "He didn't start causing trouble until last month though, said he'd met some crazy Jujutsu sorcerer and a bunch of weird people." The Curse cried out, struggling against the sorceress' hold. "Keisuke wasn't supposed to die, he was one of the chosen ones– they had plans for him. But Twisted is a blabber mouth, couldn't help himself, so he– he told him the whole plan, and when he was done, Keisuke just– kneeled in front of him. Just like that, offered himself up."

"How do you know this?" Mikazuki roared, tears welling in her golden eyes as she held the curse against the wall, her gold hovering threateningly around her.

"Curses talk, something big is coming..."

Mikazuki paused, hands falling at her sides as she let go of the Curse. The poor thing squirmed, pressing itself further into the wall while trying to put as much space as it could between them. The sorceress stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, kneeling on the floor as tears streamed down her cheeks.

She didn't want to believe the Curse's words, but deep inside, she knew it was the truth. Keisuke didn't fight back – he didn't even try, offering himself up like a sacrifice for the Curse to take and twist and pull apart.

...why?

Mikazuki pressed her lips into a tight line, reigning in her tears as she stood up, stepping away from the Curse. The Cursed Spirit sagged in relief, unaware of what was coming now that its usefulness had ran out. Satoru straightened, feeling the power building inside of Mikazuki like a storm about to be set free. The sorcerer walked to the farthest part of the room, already knowing what would come later, and although the chances of them touching were slim, it was a risk Satoru wasn't willing to take – not when a single touch could destroy the entirety of Tokyo.

The sorceress turned around, her golden eyes trailing over the Curse's mangled body with an unreadable expression. She took in the injuries, the flickering flames, the burnt flesh and the embers still attached to its chest. She didn't feel anything at the sight. Just hollowness.

"Cursed technique: Kintsugi"

The words fell from her lips like a curse, yet Satoru knew better. Kintsugi was not a Curse, but a sentence – a death sentence. The Cursed Spirit opened its mouth in protest, but whatever sounds were about to leave his lips quickly got swallowed by a wave of gold, washing away the skin from its bones and the muscles from his tendons, leaving nothing but an empty carcass made of ichor and blood on the ground. A pile of shapeless bones and mush.

Mikazuki sighed, quietly picking up her daggers from the ground before stepping out of the building, welcoming the cold rain as it covered her body. Satoru walked beside her, his Infinity keeping him dry while the young sorceress continued to walk, completely drenched. She could have used her Eternity, rearranging the atoms to keep the rain at bay, but that would take an effort she was not willing to make.

"You slaughtered that curse." Satoru said after a while as he stood beside the sorceress. "You didn't have to, we could have brought it back and asked more questions." He pointed out just as a black non-script car pulled up in front of the pair.

At least Yaga had sent someone to pick them up, which was already far more than some other sorcerers would do considering the reputation both of them had garnered themselves. Mikazuki hesitated, rain falling so hard her grey hair was glued to her face, her clothes sticking to her skin as the fabric became transparent, allowing Satoru to see the golden cracks that ran up her arms.

"And do what?" She asked, her voice hollow. "Keisuke killed himself, Satoru."

The sorcerer's breath hitched at the sound of his name out of her lips. Mikazuki had never called him by his first name, he'd always been just Gojo to her, even when she'd confessed her feeling to him, it had been Gojo. Mikazuki sighed, letting the rain wash away the ichor and blood from her skin.

"Move on." She said finally, getting into the car without even looking back.