Cursed Currents | Gojo & Geto

十九

┏━°⌜ 呪術廻戦 ⌟°━┓
19
PHONE CALL
┗━°⌜ 呪術廻戦 ⌟°━┛

It's late afternoon, and warm sunlight streams through the high windows of the private training room in my family's estate. The once-polished wooden floors are now scuffed with marks from countless hours of practice, each scar a testament to my frustration. My hair is tied back messily, strands sticking to my face as sweat drips down. I can feel the clock ticking away, the pressure gnawing at me with each passing second.

I've been at this for hours, determined to master Piercing Blood, one of my family's techniques that I've been stubbornly trying to perfect. The technique requires absolute precision—manipulating blood into a focused, high-speed projectile. It's harder than it looks. Controlling blood, keeping it steady and sharp while maintaining the right velocity, is a delicate balance between force and finesse.

Standing in the middle of the room, I take a deep breath and steady my stance. My focus sharpens as I call forth my cursed energy, feeling it flow through my veins like electricity. The blood swirls at my fingertips, forming a concentrated point, but as I try to launch it forward, it disperses halfway across the room, splattering against the wall instead of piercing the target I've set up.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, clenching my fists as I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. My body is exhausted, my mind on the brink of frustration, but I don't have time to rest.

I set my stance again, eyes narrowing as I zero in on the target. I focus on the technique's principles—precision, control, and the flow of cursed energy. The blood starts to gather at my fingers once more, and this time, I force myself to keep a steady rhythm with my breathing. The blood condenses, a small, dark-red sphere hovering just above my palm, vibrating with barely contained energy.

"Focus. Keep it steady," I whisper to myself, urging the blood forward. I feel the pressure building, the cursed energy compressing the blood into a needle-like shape. I extend my hand, and the projectile shoots forward faster than before, slicing through the air with a sharp hiss.

It hits the target, but instead of a clean puncture, it wavers at the last second and shatters into droplets, splattering harmlessly. My shoulders slump, frustration bubbling up as I bite down on the urge to scream. I can't afford to lose control—anger will only make the technique more unstable.

The door creaks open slightly, and I flinch, expecting to see my father's critical gaze, but it's just one of the attendants peeking in to check on me. They quickly close the door, leaving me alone again with my thoughts and mounting anxiety.

"Come on, you can do this," I mutter, psyching myself up for another attempt. I close my eyes for a moment, replaying my father's movements in my mind, recalling how effortlessly he wields the technique. I can almost hear his voice reminding me that it's not just about raw power—it's about understanding the flow of cursed energy.

I try again and again, but I can't seem to hit the target the right way. Each attempt leaves me more frustrated than the last. My cursed energy feels unstable, slipping away just before the blood hits the mark. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus, but every time I release the technique, it either veers off course or fizzles out before making impact. A loud groan escapes me, and I start scratching my hands, a nervous habit that only makes me more on edge.

I know my father's expecting results by the end of the day, and I can't afford to mess this up. He's been pushing me harder lately, especially with spring break ending soon. I'll be starting my second year at Kyoto Jujutsu High, and there's a lot of pressure to show improvement, especially with the goodwill event fresh in everyone's minds.