Apricus

002

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

You stared at the building in front of you; it seemed to be leaking an ominous, sepulchral aura. It was about four stories high, and clearly abandoned. The street it was located in was suspicious enough, and this building only seemed to be another piece of the puzzle to form this labyrinth. The first floor was only doors, each sliding down shut and the way up the building were an array of long, gloomy windows. Aside from the goosebumps along your arms that the vibes of the location seemed to give you, it was beat up and run down. Multiple cracks adorned the building, and shattered glass, bottles, and smoked cigarettes littered the perimeter as if it were a ritualistic place for the homeless.

As you stared up in horror, Gojo appeared to be beaming down. You couldn't really be surprised, knowing the man for however many years already. It was unsurprising that he'd play a move as devious as this. He seemed to have a knack for putting young people in dangerous situations, and then farming for kicks as he witnessed the afterstate. You recalled the first mission that he had sent you on, at that point you were only about two months into your training. Headfirst and brazen, your confidence was immediately shattered once you faced the curse who nearly ripped your spine out of your body. In fact, it had been Gojo then who jumped in to save your squirming and screaming figure. After the curse had been exercised by - literally - the flick of a finger, the man had brashly whipped out his phone and snapped photos of your bruised state. Just the memory of the situation made you seethe.

You glanced over at your cohorts who seemed to share your shock and anger at the disappointment that lay in front of them. It wasn't the beloved Tokyo that their sensei had promised, but instead something that reeked of death.

"There's a curse here." Fushiguro deadpanned - but then again, you couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic as bitchy and serious seemed to be his only two emotions.

"Yeah, no shit." You rolled your eyes.

Meanwhile, Itadori and Nobara were protesting their anger, accusing Gojo of lying and taking advantage of the opportunity to play around with country folks. You looked up at the white haired man, frowning in protest. This was obviously some kind of ploy to test the groups' techniques and teamwork, but you highly doubted that Gojo forgot, well, your situation. You slyly leaned back to see if Gojo was hiding what you needed in his uniform with a small spark of hope igniting in you, but it was extinguished after you realized he didn't. As you put your weight back on the front of your feet, you noticed Megumi glancing at you questionably from the side of his eye. You jumped a little at that, making almost ecstatic movements in an attempt to clear any rising suspicion.

"There's a big cemetery nearby," Gojo started, "That plus an abandoned building, and you've got a curse."

You tensed up as you stared up at the building. There wasn't a lot of curse energy spewing out, but enough that told you a fairly strong curse lurked. It really wouldn't have been a problem for you if you were prepared. But alas, you were as unprepared as ever and thus, rendered useless.

"So they pop up more often around graves?" Itadori asked.

The shock of bougie-less location seemed to wear off on him, and instead, was replaced by a curious attitude. You were a little bit surprised at his ability to get down to business so fast, as the other girl still appeared to be reveling in anger.

"It's not the cemetery itself," Megumi looked at the boy, "It's the fact that people associate cemeteries with fear and uneasiness."

"Right, it was the same for schools, too, wasn't it?" Itadori responded.

"Wait, he didn't even know that?"

You agreed with Nobara on that; it was common knowledge amongst sorcerers. Your first impression of Itadori was that his shoulders were so broad he must have a good build, but perhaps it wasn't due to Gojo's relentless training regime. You weren't going to judge if he was a newbie though, or just plain stupid; you, too, were only one hair dye box away from the bleach fully seeping into your brain. You had learned about sorcery only four years ago, though at seventh grade it was uncommon for techniques to not be fully developed. However, it wasn't totally impossible.