Transmigrated As Satoru's Father (A Jujutsu Kaisen Fanfiction)

Chapter 22

The air was thick with malevolence in a dimly lit alleyway nestled between two looming buildings. Shadows twisted unnaturally along the cracked brick walls, and grotesque shapes slithered and writhed across the ground—cursed spirits that had once been human. Their distorted forms emitted guttural noises, a chorus of despair echoing in the confined space.

"P-Please, no!" a man cried, his voice hoarse with desperation.

He was backed against the cold, damp wall, his trembling hands raised defensively. Sweat poured down his face as he gazed at the figure approaching him.

Mahito strolled forward, his stitched smile unnervingly wide, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets. His teal eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, a mix of amusement and detachment dancing within them.

"You're no fun anymore," Mahito said, his voice low and laced with mockery. "You were so much more entertaining when you were filled with rage, lashing out at those who made your life miserable."

The man's knees buckled as he slid further down the wall. "I-I didn't want to hurt anyone! They—they deserved it! I didn't have a choice!"

Mahito tilted his head, pretending to consider the man's words. "Ah, yes, your bullies. I bet it felt good, didn't it? Killing them, watching the life drain from their eyes?" He grinned wider, leaning down slightly. "But now... you've served your purpose. And frankly, you're boring me."

The man's eyes widened in terror. "No! Please! I'll do anything! Just don't—"

Mahito raised a hand, his grin turning cruel. "Anything, you say? Unfortunately for you, what I need right now is entertainment."

Before the man could protest further, Mahito's fingers glowed faintly with cursed energy. With a sickening crackle, he touched the man's forehead.

"Let's see what kind of art we can make from you," Mahito murmured, his voice dripping with sadistic delight.

The man screamed as his body contorted grotesquely, his limbs twisting and bending at unnatural angles. His flesh bubbled and warped, merging into itself as if it had a will of its own. Within moments, his form dissolved into a grotesque blob, joining the other disfigured spirits writhing in the alleyway.

Mahito stepped back, admiring his work like a painter stepping away from a completed masterpiece. "Much better," he said, clapping his hands lightly. "Now you're truly free... even if you don't realize it."

The blob emitted a guttural moan, barely resembling the man it had once been. Mahito turned on his heel, whistling a jaunty tune as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a scene of despair and twisted beauty.

"Can we talk for a moment?"

Mahito halted mid-step, his teal eyes approaching the figure perched on a rooftop above him. The man standing there had jet-black hair tied neatly, an aura of calm malevolence emanating from his presence.

'A special-grade sorcerer?' Mahito mused, narrowing his eyes.

He could feel the oppressive weight of cursed energy radiating from the man. It was potent, refined, and chillingly composed.

The man smiled faintly and leaped down, landing lightly on the ground, his dark robes flowing like shadows. "Ah, Mahito, I presume?" he said, calm and almost inviting.

"And you are?" Mahito replied, his grin widening as he studied the stranger.

The man touched his chest, bowing his head slightly in mock courtesy. "You may call me Kenjaku. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Mahito tilted his head, his grin not faltering. "Kenjaku, huh? I've heard whispers about you. What does someone like you want with me?"

Kenjaku chuckled softly. "Let's say I have an interest in individuals like you. Those who understand the beauty in the chaos of humanity and the potential it holds."