-New beginnings- BOOK 1: THE ORIGIN OF DARKNESS

-CHAPTER 14: THREADS OF FATE-

The trek back to Jujutsu High was uncharacteristically somber. The usual chatter between Nobara and Itadori was subdued, and even Gojo's lighthearted banter seemed absent. Fushiguro walked silently, his posture stiff, pain evident in the way he favored one side.

The moon hung low in the sky by the time they crossed the school's gates. The quiet campus was a stark contrast to the chaos they'd just escaped, and for a moment, it felt almost surreal.

Shoko Ieri didn't bother with pleasantries as the group trudged in. "Let me guess—another mission gone horribly wrong because someone didn't know when to stop?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Fushiguro's battered form.

"It was a coordinated effort," Nobara said with a smirk, though her tone was edged with exhaustion. She winced as Shoko gestured for her to sit down. "Okay, maybe just a little bad."

"'A little?'" Shoko repeated dryly. "You're bleeding from three separate places."

"I told you," Itadori interjected, pointing at Nobara, "that you should've let me take the lead in that last attack."

"And I told you that I'm not taking advice from a guy who charges in fists-first every single time!"

"Enough," Shoko snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Both of you, shut up and sit down before you make it worse."

She moved efficiently, her cursed energy glowing faintly as she began treating Fushiguro's wounds first. "You," she said, glancing at Gojo, "care to explain why he looks like he got hit by a train while you're perfectly fine?"

Gojo grinned, leaning against the doorframe. "Leadership is about delegation, Shoko."

She rolled her eyes. "And here I thought it was about keeping your students alive."

Once Shoko finished patching them up, the group sat in the infirmary, their exhaustion heavy in the air. Fushiguro leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes distant.

"You've been quiet," Itadori said, breaking the silence. "What's on your mind?"

Fushiguro hesitated. He wasn't one for opening up, but the events of the mission lingered, gnawing at him. "The curse," he said finally. "It said something... strange. About destiny."

Nobara tilted her head. "Destiny? Like, what? That you're cursed to be a workaholic for life?"

"It wasn't a joke," Fushiguro snapped, his voice sharper than intended. "It said I couldn't escape it. Like it knew something I didn't."

The room fell silent.

Gojo's usually carefree demeanor shifted, his expression unreadable. "Curses don't just say things like that without reason," he said. "They're tied to emotions, grudges, memories. It means there's something—or someone—behind this."

"That's what I don't get," Fushiguro said, his frustration bleeding through. "This wasn't just a random mission. Someone sent me there, knowing I wouldn't walk away easily."

Nobara frowned. "Are you saying someone at Jujutsu High set you up?"

Itadori's fists clenched. "No way. Nobody here would do that."

"Not directly," Gojo interjected, his tone grave. "But curses don't operate in isolation. They're drawn to strong sorcerers, especially ones like Fushiguro."

"Why me?" Fushiguro asked, his voice low.

"Because you're not like the others," Gojo replied, his blindfolded gaze resting on him. "Your potential... it's different. Greater. And that kind of potential attracts attention—both good and bad."

Nobara scoffed. "Potential doesn't mean much if it gets him killed. Why would someone put a target on his back?"

"It could be a test," Gojo said. "Or a warning."

The words hung heavy in the air.

"'You can't escape destiny,'" Itadori repeated, frowning. "What do you think it meant?"

Fushiguro shook his head. "I don't know. But it felt personal, like it wasn't just talking about the mission. Like it was talking about... me."

Gojo's lips twitched into a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's the thing about destiny. It's not always something you find out on your own terms."

"Great. Cryptic as ever," Nobara muttered.

But Fushiguro wasn't listening. His mind was racing, piecing together fragments of memory, the curse's taunts, and the eerie sense of familiarity it had evoked. "This wasn't random," he said quietly. "It knew me."

Gojo straightened, his expression unreadable. "If that's true, it means we're dealing with someone—or something—that's been watching for a while."

"And what do we do about it?" Itadori asked.

Gojo's grin returned, though it was sharper than usual. "We keep moving forward. We train. We prepare. And when the time comes, we make sure destiny knows it's messing with the wrong people."

Later, as the group dispersed, Fushiguro lingered in the infirmary, staring out the window into the darkened campus. Gojo's words echoed in his mind, but they offered little comfort.

"Can't sleep either?" Shoko asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Fushiguro glanced at her but didn't respond.

"You can talk, you know," she said, her tone softer than usual. "About whatever's on your mind."

He hesitated before speaking. "Do you think... destiny is real?"

Shoko considered the question for a moment. "I think it's what you make of it. But if someone—or something—is trying to force you into a corner, you fight back."

Fushiguro nodded slowly, her words settling over him like a balm.

He didn't know what awaited him, but one thing was certain: he wasn't going to let anyone—or any curse—dictate his path.