𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄 [JJK x OC]

21: The Cruelest Curse

Arc 3: Tears in Winter Snow (JJK Zero)

These eyes see the world, yet when faced with their suffering, I was moved not to tears but laughter.

Yet when I turn my gaze to the past, I feel a distant ache in my chest, and a bitter taste washes over my lips. I'd thought I freed myself of everything that confined me. But if there was one thing that bound me, it was that distant love never to return. A curse I could never be free from.

Was that how that man felt, I wonder?

______________

3rd person

Spring 2017, over 10 years after the Star Plasma Incident

???

"S-sorry... I'm sorry..." A young voice cried out, a strained and scratchy voice drowned out by his unending sobs. The boy sat in a dark alley, far from the common eye, as he cried for forgiveness that wouldn't come. No one could pardon his actions, and he could hear his plea. But beyond the sobs were groans of agony as four older men surrounded the young boy, their limbs twisted and broken, flesh torn, blood seeping into the trash-laden concrete. "S-sorry..." The boy repeated as a pool of blood stretched out to him like a hand, staining the soles of his shoes. He shot back, yelping as he did, his body colliding with the protruding metal pipes on a nearby wall. He didn't mind the sudden pain that throbbed in his head; if anything, that wasn't enough, nowhere near enough to atone. "Someone please kill me..." he whispered silently.

Six months ago, at █████ middle school, four students were brutally mutilated, their broken yet still living bodies shoved into a locker that oozed blood for hours. Following that harrowing news, a family reported their son missing after he never came to pick up his little sister from her elementary school. He was a passive, troubled boy, they said, unstable, who wore a dour expression as though he were in constant pain.

News of that event didn't spread far; however, the higher-ups in Jujutsu society caught wind of it and suppressed it. The characteristics were familiar enough; thousands of people in Japan go missing in extreme circumstances that no one knew about. Those elders saw the writing on the wall; it was clear enough that they could make a baseline judgement: that boy was either a cursed user or an individual burdened with a severe curse. The distinction was irrelevant. Either way, the sentence was the same, a routine exorcism. Lacking information and uncaring, the case was designated as a grade 1 threat, its call answered by four sorcerers from Kyoto, three grade twos, and a single grade one sorcerer. They were under the belief that such measures would be enough.

"H-help— help me..." The grade one sorcerer, his bottom half magled beyond recognition, finger bleeding, grated away as he clawed against the concrete towards a figure that watched over them all with a grin. He and the other three sorcerers were kept barely alive on the razor's edge of death, and the boy who was the unwilling culprit could do nothing but beg for forgiveness. He couldn't notice the figure that drew closer as he stared down at his bloodstained hands, wishing that this nightmare would somehow pass.

"Please—" The sorcerer groaned in agony, hand outstretched to the heavens, only for it to be struck down. A foot landed on the outstretched palm, grinding into the floor, causing the once-proud sorcerer to scream out in pain, its timber a sweet melody to the woman who inflicted it. Snickering filled the alley, the noise evading the young boy whose hands were now wrapped around his neck, squeezing.