Chapter Text
The morning light crept through half-closed blinds, falling in golden stripes across the coffee table. A half-empty glass of water, an unopened protein bar, and last night’s jacket, hastily tossed aside.
The apartment was quiet. A modest one-bedroom tucked above a coffee shop, it smelled faintly of jasmines; wafting over from a bouquet on the large window sill. Her place was cozy, lived-in, and warm.
Bookshelves lined one wall of the living room, heavy with half-read novels she swore she
would
finish someday. A single framed photo sat crooked on a side table: her with three friends from her hometown: mid-laugh, out of focus, perfect.
She lay curled on the couch in a tangle of blankets and regrets. The hoodie she’d passed out in was too warm now, and one sock had mysteriously vanished in the night.
Her skull throbbed, not unbearably, but enough to make her regret the third... or maybe fifth drink from last night.
“Ugh,” she muttered, dragging the pillow over her face.
"Never again," she mumbled. A lie she’d probably repeat next weekend.
Eventually, after a solid five minutes of cursing the world, she groaned, sat up, and rubbed at her eyes.
And then it hit her. Not the headache, not the hangover.
That feeling.
The trace of that bizarre cursed energy from yesterday still tugged at her memory.. Barely there, but wrong. Not the sharp bite of a standard curse, and not the radiant buzz of someone like Gojo.
Something deeper. Sad. No…
angry?
Was it
rage
?
She stared blankly at the bookshelf, the haze of sleep gone now.
A sip of now-room-temperature water and a deep breath, and she was on her feet. She brushed her teeth, threw her hair in a messy bun, and scanned her drawers for an outfit.
She threw on leggings, a tank top, slipped on her sneakers, and slung her jacket over one shoulder.
She’d just take a look, she told herself. Maybe the cursed trace was still hanging around from yesterday’s match.
She made her way back to the training field. No sparring today. No loud banter. Just the whisper of wind threading through the tall grass and the low hum of her own cursed energy as she stepped onto the field.
She slowed, closing her eyes for a moment. Steadying her breathing and focusing intently.
Its still here
Faint, but unmistakable. The same presence she’d felt yesterday.
Like something brushing against the edges of her soul. Dark, sorrowful, seething.
She followed it, shoes crunching softly over the earth as she moved past the field’s edge and toward the woods that bordered the field.
She’d walked this path before; training drills, cursed spirit sweeps, lazy afternoon strolls with Nobara, but today it felt different.
Colder.
The morning sun hung high enough to bathe the forest in light. Beams of gold streamed through the leaves in shifting patterns, casting dappled shadows along the forest floor. Each step she took felt like a quiet descent, not just deeper into the woods, but into something unknown, something waiting.
What even is this? She wondered, pausing to touch the bark of a tree. The cursed energy wasn’t like any she’d studied. Not a curse, exactly. But not completely human, either.
The deeper she went, the quieter everything became. No birds. No breeze.
The trace of cursed energy was stronger now. Thick in the air, like humidity before a storm.
And then she saw it.
Three large trees, massive ones, with trunks the size of barrels, lay collapsed next to each other. Each one perfectly severed. The cuts were clean. Surgical. Unnatural. Deliberate.
Splashes of something dark stained the bark near the break points. She stepped closer.
Not paint. Not sap.
Blood???
Her pulse quickened.
She crouched beside one trunk and pressed two fingers against the sticky crimson trail. Still wet.
This is fresh.
She stood quickly, eyes sweeping around her surroundings.
She turned sharply… no one behind her.
“Hello?” she called, voice low but steady.
No answer.
She felt the hairs on her arms rise.
Something…
someone
… was nearby. Watching. She could feel it in her gut. She could feel eyes on her.
Too quiet.
All she could hear was the sound of her heart hammering in her chest.
She warred with herself to stay and keep looking, or to leave, regroup, and come back later.
With a final glance at the trees, she decided to back away, carefully retracing her steps down the narrow path.
I'll tell Gojo about this. Maybe six eyes has some insight.
Even as the light grew brighter and the sounds of the school started to creep back in, the weight on her chest didn’t lift.
The school was buzzing again. Students sparring, voices echoing off the walls, the occasional explosion of cursed energy in the distance.
She found Gojo exactly where she expected him: slouched on the couch in the faculty lounge, blindfold tight around his eyes, pushing his snow white hair up like a headband.
He sipped from a juice box that definitely was not meant for grown men.
“Sensei,” she greeted, still a little unnerved.
He turned his head lazily. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite potential special grade. You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I didn’t,” she said, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. “But I think something saw me.”
That got his attention.
She told him everything; the faint cursed energy, the bizarre signature, the path through the woods, the trees, the blood.
Gojo was quiet, listening intently. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Hands clasped together. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel them staring at her with a look of deep thought and seriousness.
He shrugged, body relaxing
“Could be a curse” he barked, tone light and casual, dramatically sucking the last drops from his juice box.
She rolled her eyes, “I'm telling you it's NOT a curse. Or not a full curse. I don't know what it is. CAN YOU BE SERIOUS?”
He leaned back, flopping his hand back and forth as he spoke dismissively “Look, maybe it’s a new hybrid cursed tree spirit, or haunted squirrel, or repressed forest ghost with unresolved trauma. I’m not judging.”
“Im being serious Gojo,” she said, glaring.
“And l’m being supportive.” He patted her shoulder. “Do you want me to come hold your hand on your little forest mystery adventure? Bring snacks? Maybe a flashlight and a teddy bear?”
He grinned at his own sarcasm.
She stood up with a groan, rubbing her temples. “You are literally the worst.”
Gojo stretched out on the couch, folding his arms behind his head like this was a vacation.
He waved her off. “You’re fine. If it was dangerous, I’d know.”
“You didn’t even look into it.”
He tapped his blindfold. “I’m always looking”
She stared at him, chewing the inside of her cheek.
“Fine. I'll figure this out on my own.”
“Godspeed, Miss Paranormal Investigator. I’ll keep the couch warm.”
She waved her middle finger in his face and turned on her heel to leave, intent on heading back to her apartment to shower and try to make sense of the day.
She turned on the hot water and undressed. Stepping into the shower and letting the water hit her back, she sighed and stared off in thought.
That faint trace still clung to her thoughts like a whisper she couldn’t quite make out.
It wasn’t just the blood, or the trees, or even the cursed energy.
It was the feeling that gnawed at her.
Why did it bother her so much?
She’d felt cursed energy before; stronger, darker, worse. So why couldn’t she shake this one?
It felt personal . But that didn’t make sense. She didn’t know who or what it belonged to.
Still…
She rubbed her eyes.
“Why do I care?” she muttered under her breath.
She didn’t have an answer.
But something in her gut whispered: You will.