𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄 [JJK x OC]

7: Paradise for Me and You

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The battle between the three who claimed the title of strongest reaches its final climax.

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3rd person

Village Grounds

The earth shook with fury as though it were grumbling in pain at the meeting of the two heavenly children, even as they were sealed behind a barrier masterfully woven by Ayako's once mentor that would put any modern sorcerer's attempts to shame. A golden amber light shone in the sky, barely peering through the clouds that painted it. Seeing that ancient village hidden from the world awash with gold was heavenly. So, despite the buckling earth and thunderous echoes that bellowed from the forest, the inhabitants were startlingly docile enough to unnerve the students of jujutsu high.

"I'm not going to tell you again you have to move further away. Those two are going too far again." Shoko mumbled with a sign on her lips. She'd already come to expect the answer.

"There is no reason to worry; everything is as it should be, according to Lady Kamo's foresight. Leave everything up to her." An older man repeated with an almost robotic cadence. His eyes, once closed, opened as he allowed the placid smile to fade from his face. They were void black, even darker than the man's hair, and strikingly cold.

"That girl really has this village whipped." Shoko groaned. It was inconceivable; so lost were the inhabitants of this village in a blissful subservience that enraptured their fragile minds that it was revolting to anyone not born in this environment. These people who'd wholely devoted their lives to one that, in their ignorance, could be seen as nothing less than divine. That woman was born from a profane and unspeakable depravity, whose moods were as fickle and indiscernible as the inhumane gods of antiquity.

In a way, it wasn't surprising the people would be so devoted, yet it was no less foolish, for who would willingly pray to the ravenous cold waves of a tsunami or the heartless tempest of a hurricane? That woman wasn't born from the womb of a goddess, but the seed of calamity incarnate.

Yet another quake rocked the village, bending and bowing the wooden foundations of the homes at its whims. Birds took to the skies, their wings beating, desperate and fearful. Shoko clicked her tongue as she caught her balance; pain radiated from her hand as she leaned her palm against the elaborately crafted edifice of worship.

Thanks to her innate reversed cursed technique, the wound on Shoko's palm was instantaneously closed. Yet a stain of crimson remained on the unfathomably ancient wood. It was pristine and, despite its age, seemed to have never warped or decayed. It was masterfully carved into what seemed like a winged spear or perhaps a trident. The wood shifted slightly as if breathing, sending the sorceress's hand reeling back, almost bumping into the child behind her.

"Lady Ayako's creations are destabilizing," Hanako muttered under her breath, her words carrying an air of shock as she emerged from behind Shoko. The young girl stared down the villager, his once passive and kindly expression contorted at the sight of her. Lips pulled back into a disgusted sneer, and his eyes filled with contempt as though he took offense at even having to see that devilish child. She, who, was saved only by the whim of Ayako, even though, to the villagers, none could be more unworthy.

"You..." The man growled, his every syllable saturated with revulsion. Revulsion for her inexplicably golden hair, for those eyes of hellish crimson, and the curse she brought to all that surrounded her. How was it possible? Was such a repugnant flower born from that seed?