// SURVIVOR'S GUILT // : MAKI ZEN'IN

1.

WHA-WHA-WHA-WHA-WHA-WHAT??!!

Cowering in the corner of the Veil set as the meeting grounds for Honen and the great Special-Grade Suguru Geto, Akio's could barely accept what his widened eyes were telling him, the air in his lungs almost too putrid and heavy to take in;

The cursed energy thickening the air, coagulating and swarming the Veil set by Hitokiri raised the hairs on his nape and pressed down on his temples, like a throbbing migraine with the potency to topple him over. The young sorcerer clung to the Veil's border, gripping the rocky barrier's edge to keep himself upright, stabilizing his breathless state to the best of his abilities, maintaining his technique.

His technique; Cloak.

When active, Akio leaves behind no trace of his presence; any scents, imprints left from touch, DNA, sounds and even his cursed energy signature is almost completely blanked out from the world; with seemingly no apparent downsides, Akio effectively becomes a ghost, and, in a room full of monsters, he can blend himself in, to become no more than a stalagmite prodding from the ground, silent and observant.

With his breath hitched in his throat, sweat pooling on his brow and his hands shaking against the Veil's wall, he watched.

Suguru Geto and the Volcano-headed Curse walked to the far side of the dining table, the Special-Grade's arms nestled in the sleeves of his garms. The Volcano Curse, short, slouched and bearing the one eye on their face, sneered at the curse users as he passed; his presence, explosive and rife with disgusted vitriol for the cursed mercenaries in attendance, tightened like a vice around their necks.

Geto spoke, the sly tone of his unnerving, and coy.

"So nice of you to accompany my associate and I through Jodo, I truly appreciate it," He said, eyeing the trio of figures who passed through the Veil as he took his seat towards the end of the table, "I don't think I would have had such an easy time navigating my way through the city, had you not provided yourself as an escort for me and my colleague, here."

Two took their seats among the other members of Honen, and the last, found their way to the opposite end.

Glossing by the other two, the eyes of Suguru Geto met the man before him, his heart pacing ever so slightly faster.

Even uttering his name, took a moment of repose before speaking.

"Jizo."

The man in question, Jizo: faceless, covered by a sleek, matte-black mask lacking holes for eyes; black turtleneck with diamond-stitch padding embroidered into the sleeves and across the chest; matching pleated trousers embroidered across the outermost sides of the legs; gloves, in black leather; suede boots, to match a thick, weathered black overcoat.

Leaning back in the throne-like chair at the end of the table with his elbows resting on the armrests and his fingers interlocked in front of his face, Honen's leader replied, curtly.

"Tell me what you want, Suguru Geto."

"Oh?" He replied with a smirk, "Aren't curious about how I'm back, Jizo? I had hoped that you'd have kept tabs on me."

"Mh...why would I do that?"

"I waged war against Jujutsu society, why else~?" Geto smirked, leaning onto his hand, perched up on the table, "The Jujutsu world you ally yourselves against, no?"

Jizo repeated himself, "Again, Geto. What are you here for?"

The Special-Grade paused, eyes open in a subtle shock, before his composure returned.