Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”

June 12th, 2005.

One month prior to this date, the occult organisation “Haihara” had finally been classified. Following this declaration, any direct member of “Haihara” was to be considered a Curse User and a Special Grade risk.

If an individual was confirmed to be a member of “Haihara”, they were to be executed for the safety of the Home Islands.

Sofia Major tossed the announcement she had been reading aloud into the car's glove compartment as she stopped the engine and got out. “... And that’s why we’re here.” She adjusted her tan jacket, which rested comfortably over her white lace-up shirt. She adjusted the slim-fit jeans she had been wearing and tightened the belt.

“No, that’s why you’re here, Senpai,” Satoru Gojo corrected, lowering his sunglasses. “I’m just glad we got to do some spectating today.” He grinned, exiting the car first, and making way for Shoko Ieiri, who had been stuck between him and Geto on the middle seat, to leave. Suguru Geto followed soon after, getting out of the car on the right side.

“Yaga really is spoiling us,” Suguru Geto commented, letting out a quick laugh. “I’ve never seen a Special Grade so far, it’s a shame that Rin declined to—wait. Major, you have a driving licence?"

“I doubt you’ll find anyone stronger in that complex than yourselves, especially since I’m pretty sure they’ve just blown this way out of proportion. According to HQ’s documentation, they don’t even have any inheritors of their family technique,” Sofia added, getting out of the car and stretching. “As for the permit? Don’t worry about it. I didn’t crash, did I?” she said, grinning.

“Family?” Satoru squinted. “What, Haihara’s a last name?”

“Obviously,” Shoko Ieiri sighed, closing the car door. “... Eugh. Couldn’t I have just ridden in the front? Anything’s better than being squeezed between these two.”

“If anyone’s riding shimoza, it’d be Satoru.” Sofia laughed, disregarding Satoru’s groan and the other two’s snickering, and began walking towards the concrete complex, set to be demolished in two months' time. “C’mon. Let’s get this done before dinner,” she said, taking out an M4 Carbine.

BANG! A white page was slammed onto the table in front of her.

… Oh.

Well, it still felt like a gunshot.

Yet… it was just a simple piece of paper. A simple notice.

March 29th, 2006.

Sofia Major asked for permission to leave the country in order to mourn her father’s death during his service in the Iraq war, and to be present during the funeral and subsequent cremation.

She would leave that evening.

Sofia Major stared off into the dimly lit sky from a classroom in Tokyo. She mumbled something under her breath, her head sinking low.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru spoke calmly, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s—”

“A waste. Nothing but a waste of life,” she mumbled, her voice weak and wobbly. “... I’m no better than them.” Her once confident and proud tone had become torn and pathetic. In spite of Suguru’s respect for her as a colleague, he couldn’t help but pity her in that moment, like how one pities a wounded animal. The feeling made him feel… gross. As if he had never felt that way towards another human being before.

“What could you possibly be referring to—” Suguru started again, taking a step forward, but was immediately halted by the slam of Sofia’s fist on the windowsill.

It looked like she was trying to say something, but not a single word came out. She shook her head twice, then turned to leave. She paused for a moment in front of Geto, her eyes gazing into nothing in particular. “... What is it to mean, anyway?”

“Sorry?” He arched an eyebrow.

“To mean. To live with meaning.” She continued, her eyes slowly falling down. “Because, if meaning comes from what we try to achieve… Then we forever live incomplete.”

Suguru reached out in a shallow attempt to stop her, but it was too late. She had already left.

He… felt like he had to tell someone.

“... Two hours later, she had boarded a plane heading to Sacramento International Airport,” Suguru concluded, looking at his two peers.

“... She was so busy crying that she couldn’t even say goodbye,” Satoru noted, crossing his arms. “And what’s that about being a murderer? Don’t tell me this has to do with that one mission, the uh…” he snapped his fingers, trying to get the memories to resurface.

“The raid on the Haihara family.” Shoko answered for him, sighing.

“Yeah, that thing.” Satoru nodded, leaning forward with a grin. “Was she really that soft? What, does she think that fate’s going to bite her in the ass, or something?”

“I don’t think it’s her worrying about Karma, and more about her own principles,” Suguru commented, giving Satoru the side eye. In response, the man just shrugged.

“Whatever, it’s a closed case anyway,” he yawned.

“Well, Satoru, I’m not too sure.” Suguru gently leaned forward on the table they were meeting around. “I’d hate to say that that mission was… sloppy, but…”

“When me and Suguru looked at the map of the complex we raided, it turned out that we had basically skipped out on three rooms.” Shoko continued, tilting her head.

“Ehh?! You guys went snooping around without me?” Satoru exclaimed—

“We asked if you wanted to come,” Suguru retorted. “Remember to clear out the earwax from time to time.” That one got an ‘eugh’ from Shoko. Satoru just shook his head.

“Can it, Suguru,” he groaned. “It’s fine. Whatever makes her happy, or something. Let’s let her cry and mourn all she wants, yeah? I need to sweep the floor with Rin at seven, so I’m grabbing dinner.”

… Sigh.

Years have passed since that day.

August 2018.

“... Exchange event?” Megumi Fushiguro inquired.

Chapter Text

“The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill event!” Panda chimed. “It’s a two-day competition between the students here in Tokyo and the ones in our sister school in Kyoto: The first day is a team battle, where we have to compete in order to exorcise a Grade Two curse, and a bunch of weaker curses around the arena. The second day has us all fighting in individual battles, where we have to test our mettle in a one-on-one showdown!” He continued, his voice almost cheerful enough to get them to feel better about Yuji’s death.

“And of course, we’re allowed to sabotage the other team,” Maki Zen’in continued, a smile creeping onto her face. “And by sabotage, I mean that basically anything except for killing goes.”

Inumaki nodded, and Panda took a step forward. “And, since we’re actually two people short for our team, we were wondering if you two were interested in joining. There’s actually one more person that’s supposed to be joining, but we never actually got any confirmation, ahah!” He said, scratching his head, waving his hands dismissively.

“... I’m in,” Nobara Kugisaki finally got up, though that frown didn’t quite dissipate.

Megumi took a little bit longer to decide. “You’re doing this just to get the recommendations you need for a promotion, aren’t you?” He inquired. Maki immediately shot him a glare, but he pre-empted her retort: “I’m in as well. I don’t really care either way.”

… They needed to get stronger, after all.

“Alright, perfect,” Maki nodded. “Now, we just need to fetch Kanehara!” She cheered, the second-years then all raising their fists in unison. This was going great—

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

“... What?” Panda stammered. Nobara stared at the… Two-meter-tall beefcake of a woman standing in front of her. She… slowly turned towards Megumi, eyes wide. “... Fushiguro. That’s Kanehara?”

Megumi sighed and turned to look at the woman himself, briefly profiling her. She had a black side ponytail, her eyes locked in a stern, condescending gaze, and she was wearing… a black sports bra and blue shorts. Nothing else. She didn’t even have shoes on.

He tilted his head and barely saw what seemed to be some sort of warhammer leaning against her dorm wall. He finally turned to look at Nobara, who was staring at him with rising concern and impatience. “... Reika Kanehara. She’s the only third grader that’s actually present in HQ.” Megumi mumbled. He was about to continue, but was interrupted.

“NOBLE HEART!” Kanehara pointed at Panda. “If you expect me to participate in such a FOOL’S ERRAND AGAIN, AFTER THE DISAPPOINTMENT LAST YEAR, YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN!”

“Eh?!” Maki took a step forward. “What do you mean?! Todo wouldn’t shut up about how you did last year!” She protested. Nobara turned to Panda this time, quietly asking about who Todo could be.

Kanehara seemingly had a visceral reaction to Maki’s comment, her hand clutching her chest as if she had been shot. “Fiery Soul, do you truly think so low of me as to… assume that I’D JUDGE SUCH AN EVENT ON MERE PERFORMANCE ALONE?!” She roared, irate.

Her eyes twitched, and her voice was dripping with indignation. Oh dear… “But—of course not! I’m just saying that you did really well!” Maki was taken aback at how badly her upperclasswoman had taken a compliment.

“Who the hell thought it was a good idea to name that person Reika. And what’s with the nicknames!?” Nobara muttered under her breath, but it was loud enough for Megumi to register anyway. He nearly chuckled at that, but out of fear of something being thrown at him, he bit his lip hard.

“And so what?!” Kanehara shouted, indignant. “Anyone with half the brain of a toucan can ‘do well’, Fiery Soul! And yet, in the orchestra of battle, where I had come to play my part of the symphony, I saw nearly everyone around me march to the stage with those dreading, exhausted eyes, a need to rush, a need to… win.”

“Tuna mayo,” Inumaki pressed, and Panda nodded furiously while Nobara quietly asked Megumi a question.

“What Toge said! Don’t you enjoy winning?” Panda took the lead—

“If your life is defined by ‘enjoying winning’, then leave this room.” Kanehara’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and she pressed on her sinuses. “Noble Heart. I understand the shallow meaning that you derive from victory and its incentive. And yet… You must understand!” She clenched her fists. “If your life’s pride is a collection of snapshots of success, then your life can be summed in a simple two minute motion picture!”

Maki blinked. “Well, winning isn’t everything either,” she added, though her voice calmed. “It’s a great opportunity to train, to push ourselves, to improve.” She shrugged, already getting a bit fed up with the monologue.

Kanehara paused for ten long, excruciating seconds before replying. “... And yet, you still speak of posterity. While yes, training does amount to future gain, to future, eventual changes, more than the title of ‘victor’ ever will… it is still hollow, if you do not appreciate the journey.”

“Who said I didn’t enjoy the journey?” Maki began again, but was immediately interrupted.

“Do not speak to me of ‘enjoyment’, when I asked you about appreciation!” She snapped again, grabbing everyone’s attention. 

Maki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Oh cut the bullshit—”

“To truly appreciate, you must elevate it above everything else within the experience! Do you really appreciate the training, the fighting, this event?! Do you do it, do you look forward to it, for the sake of the fight, or is it a mere ‘positive’ that you find simply amenable?!”

She placed her hands between them and lowered her eyes, her voice dimming yet remaining stern. “I strive for goals too. Goals by nature are not ‘shallow’ concepts. However, there is a firm difference between working for a goal and letting a goal work you.” Kanehara sat down on the floor, took a deep breath, and furrowed her eyebrows in thought. “Tell me, Maki, are you shallow?”

“Like hell I am!” She snapped back. “Cut it with the damn ranting and get to the point!”

Kanehara paused for a moment, then nodded. “Then fight me. If you win, I’ll join this year’s Goodwill Event.”

And without a second of hesitation, Maki stepped forward. “Fine by me.”

The two fighters left the building, with the others close behind, whispering something irrelevant.

SLAM! Kanehara’s fist dug into the ground as Maki narrowly wove another strike. Despite her stature, she was agile, frighteningly so.

Without a moment to lose, she countered with a swift jab to her ribs, which was deflected by her elbow.

As the elbow crashed down on her forearm, Maki leveraged the force to turn into a kick aimed at her side, which was barely sidestepped.

“I can’t believe that girl refused to allow weapons into the fight,” Nobara commented, getting Panda’s attention.

“Of course they can’t allow real weapons! They’re not trying to kill each other—” he was cut off by Megumi.

“She has a point. Kanehara knows about Maki’s heavenly restriction, so by leaving weapons out of play, she turned the fight into a battle of agility and strength. Maki outclasses her on both. It’s… odd at best, purposeful self-sabotage at worst.”

Inumaki tilted his head. “Roe.”

“He has a point, you know,” Panda nodded, while Nobara grumbled something about him not making any sense. “Kanehara’s still holding off on using her technique.”

“Actually, yeah. What is her technique?” Nobara asked.

“... Forced combustion.” Panda watched the fight keenly. “It can be used to light things on fire, at its core, but it can have many other applications! That’s exactly why she’s so potent—her technique’s almost like a canvas on which she can paint endless possibilities.”

“And with a personality like that, no less…” Megumi mumbled. His upperclassmen were… such a hassle.

Suddenly, Kanehara’s feet lit on fire for a split second, as an explosion sparked right below her foot, sending her knee flying straight into Maki’s guts at high speed! Without losing a second, she began chaining rapid punches while she was staggered, her fists relentlessly slamming Maki’s improvised guard—

But Kanehara’s fist lit ablaze, and after she dug it into her block, the fire collapsed into a sudden explosion, launching the second-year back by a dozen meters!

“COME ON, FIERY SOUL! DO NOT DISHONOR YOURSELF!” Kanehara roared, clenching both fists before running straight at her enemy once more!

Panda gasped, but Maki was already back on her feet. “Don’t hold back, Maki!” He shouted, cheering her on.

Maki tilted her head just enough to dodge the incoming punch, leaving her close enough to land a blow straight towards Kanehara’s liver! When the giant stepped back and guarded her lower body, gritting her teeth, Maki threw a shin kick at her thigh, forcing her to one knee. When she went in for a second kick, aimed straight at her head, Kanehara ducked below it, then lurched forward, nearly striking her chin with a devastating punch. As both fighters adjusted their stances, they rushed back in.

Kanehara blocked an incoming hook with her elbow and countered by hitting her off balance with a punch to the shoulder. As Maki stumbled for half a second, Kanehara’s entire lower body sparked with flame, her body surging towards Maki’s flank as her fist, burning bright with red flame, collided with her opponent’s elbow!

Despite the guard, Maki was once again sent flying backwards when the flame charging in Kanehara’s fist detonated in a sudden shockwave!

Kanehara adjusted herself as the fire on her body extinguished. “Tell me, what do you fight for, F—”

“If you CALL ME ‘FIERY SOUL’ ONE MORE TIME, I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!” Maki dashed forward, forcing her fist into Kanehara’s face, dragging her backwards. “And for the record, I’m doing this to get you to join our damn team, as I said I was!”

“If your motives are always this shallow—” Kanehara groaned as she got up, dusting herself off. “How do you possibly expect to win?!” 

“Then what the hell else am I supposed to fight for?” Maki put up her guard again, trying to bait her into attacking.

“Don’t deceive yourself, you are wiser than such ignorance!” Kanehara crouched and was thrust into the sky by an explosion! As she soared into the sky, a second blast sent her back down like a meteorite, straight at Maki!

Chapter Text

Within the lining of a curtain, on a paved space within a certain someone’s school that Yuji could not bear to name…

CRACK! Yuji sent a kick straight into Mahito’s pelvis!

SLAM! Nanami’s cleaver cut straight through Mahito’s forearm, cutting his right arm off at the 7:3 ratio point!

“They’re… not giving me time to think, time to create a substitute—”

A right hook sent Mahito flying right into Nanami’s knee, cursed blood splattering everywhere.

“Ahhhh! What fresh inspiration this is! Is this… death?!”

Yuji struck Mahito’s skull with a hammer fist, and Nanami’s cleaver dug into his throat!

“I bet I could do it now—”

But then, a white-hot beam struck Yuji’s arm and Nanami’s shoulder!

“Get out, Mahito.” A figure dropped down from above the schoolyard. A woman dropped right in front of the curse, who briefly paused.

“You said you wouldn’t interfere!” He whined as Yuji and Nanami both glanced at the wounds they received. They had this lingering… burning sensation that they couldn’t quite describe.

“Itadori!” Nanami called out, dashing to cover him while he recovered.

“I told you that I wouldn’t interfere unless things were going badly,” she remarked, adjusting her messy, black hair. “Now bail. You’ve had your fun, haven’t you?”

Mahito paused, then grunted. “Fine.” He dashed away, hopping down and slipping through the sewer grating.

Nanami eyed the blatant escape attempt, but his body was still tense as he observed the intruding figure. She was wearing… business casual attire. Clearly a Curse User, not a Curse, no taller than 170 centimeters, with messy black hair, possibly implying some lack of self-care, and she had… an eyepatch on.

“... I have no interest in handling you.” She declared—

Before she could even register what happened, Nanami had already found the exact 7:3 Ratio point on her forearm and cleaved it clean off! Her eyes widened in shock as Nanami’s boot crashed down on the lower 3/10th section of her abdomen, sending her flying into one of the school walls!

Abruptly, a hand punched the sewer grating off, and extended over to the woman’s shock-ridden body, and pulled her into the sewers!

“Itadori! We need to chase them down, right now!” Nanami bolted towards the open hole leading into the canalisation—

But Yuji had collapsed from his injuries.

As Nanami phoned Takuma Ino to pursue within the sewers, Mahito inspected the woman that she had dragged down.

“You really are pathetic,” he whispered into her ear, as he firmly clutched her soul and forced her body to regrow its arm. “And you had the nerve to tell me what to do.”

He took a deep breath. “Humans.”

She forced herself upright, gasping for air. “... Yeah, Humans.”

Mahito’s smile deepened as he dragged her up. “Ahh… I wish I could just kill that Yuji Itadori already,” he slammed his fist into the wall, making her tense for a microscopic moment. “... Oh well. His body’s off limits, but his soul isn’t. I’ll make him rend himself to pieces.”

“C’mon, Haihara. You still have work to do,” He grinned, flicked her nose, and walked off.

She clenched her teeth, dragged her weak body upright, and got in line.

She paused, her eyes dimming noticeably.

“I really am,” she stared absentmindedly at a small, transfigured human, discarded in some corner of the Sewer space. She stretched her hands, flexed her arms.

She felt her body strain; she felt muscle shudder instead of stabilise, microadjustments turning into tremors. She hated it. The way she couldn’t even see him move, the way she couldn’t do anything.

She hated the smell of these sewers. She was so, so tired of the dark.

She looked at a small patch of moss growing from a small fissure in the wall.

She frowned and tore it out, uprooting it the best she could, her nails clawing at the green stains still clinging onto the wall.

She inspected her hands, her damaged nails, the red shade of her fingertips.

“Fuck!” She yelled, pressing the back of her hands onto her face. Her breathing got heavier and heavier.

But nobody could hear her shouting from there, anyway.

Back in Jujutsu High, however, someone else was shouting.

“It doesn’t matter if you have the capability to perform, if you do not have the proper direction!” Kanehara grunted, towering above Maki’s winded form. “DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO GET THE UPPER HAND ON ME FROM—”

In the blink of an eye, Kanehara felt Maki’s fist connect with her nose, sending her flying into a tree and kicking the air out of her lungs! “FINE!” Maki shouted, dusting herself off. “How about I fight to beat your ass into a pulp, then?!” She spat while closing in once more, driving her foot into her stomach!

“Jesus! Maki just ate that?!” Nobara gasped, wide-eyed.

“You shouldn’t expect anything less from her,” Panda nodded. “And it’s probably because Kanehara pissed her off too. As they say, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned—”

Nobara kicked Panda where his ribs should be, making him bend over in anguish. “That’s misogynistic as hell!” She shouted while striking him on the head repeatedly, despite Panda’s repeated apologies.

After the kick, Kanehara’s body buckled, forcing her down for a moment—

STOMP! Maki’s foot crashed down on Kanehara’s shoulder, bringing her down and exposing her back! Maki sent an axe kick down, Kanehara slid to the side, narrowly evading it, and forcing Maki to adjust her stance.

Her hands and feet sparked with fire, but Maki, relentless, strafed her down, forcing her to guard against a volley of punches aiming purely to degrade her block.

Kanehara countered with a single, precise blow that reached Maki’s Sternum before another punch could follow through. Her flaming hand then sparked an explosion, flicking Maki’s head upwards, rattling her skull!

While Maki recovered, Kanehara gained distance—the fires on her limbs were getting brighter and denser.

Before the Weapons Specialist could form a plan of attack, Kanehara began barreling towards her, micro-explosions propelled her feet forward with each step! Maki’s eyes widened as she tried to predict the swing that was about to come—

But she began swerving to her side, her body leaning closer and closer to the ground with each angled step—

Suddenly, Kanehara’s whole chest lit on fire, but the flames were… pointing sideways!

“MAKI! SHE’S LAUNCHING HERSELF TO YOUR FLANK!” Panda screamed.

Kanehara’s body tilted to a near-perfect horizontal line, up exactly at Maki’s eye level, supported by jets of fire that kept her off the ground like a rocket. Maki’s eyes snapped to those legs, and realised—

One was coiling backwards! With a sudden BANG, it arced forward, straight into her head!

Maki’s head slammed into the ground, the angular momentum so sudden and so devastating that her body simply couldn’t keep up.

But she wasn’t done yet.

Kanehara dashed to try to kick her while she was down, but she pushed herself upwards with one hand and slammed her opposite elbow into her chin, which was tilted down towards her!

As her head recoiled sideways, Maki drove a fist straight into her throat, pressing on her Adam's apple, and followed it up with one final punch, aimed straight at her liver!

… And so, the giantess fell to her knees.

“... Ahah,” She laughed. “... You finally understand. You felt it, didn’t you? How much one improves when they stop fighting for something so… abstract?”

“Whatever you say. Deal’s a deal, right?” Maki spat, shaking off the dizziness from the kick to the head she had received.

… A dry laugh. Kanehara shook her head in mild amusement.

“Yes, I’ll join.”

Chapter Text

Yuji had been given time to recover since the injuries he sustained during the incident that came after Junpei Yoshino’s untimely death. As soon as Shoko cleared him to go, Satoru Gojo told him to join him on a trip to somewhere… special.

“Gojo-sensei—I’m not sure how this would—”

Yuji took a sip from the coffee mug. Gojo had gotten both of them a vanilla latte from an unassuming coffee shop. Nanami refused to come along, but he didn’t seem as offended as he usually is when dragged into Gojo’s antics.

Yuji stilled, alongside his mind. It felt like his thoughts had gone numb. The lingering whispers of melancholy were gone, something that he could only now identify because its constant presence had abruptly vanished.

“What… is up with this?” Yuji stared at the mug. “It feels like I—like—like I have to force myself to think,” he mumbled.

Gojo’s smile deepened. “Beats me,” he said, shrugging and taking a sip of his own mug.

Yuji glared at him. “That’s the worst lie ever.” Gojo laughed and leaned forward, placing the mug down.

“Well, what do you think it is?” Gojo chuckled. “It’s just coffee, right?”

“... I feel… better, almost. Like I’m less sore,” he continued, flexing his hands.

“People mention that when they come here more often than you’d think.” He smiled, turning to the barista at the counter. “Say, take a good look at him. Nanami taught you how to see traces of cursed energy, right?”

Yuji turned, more curious than anything, and squinted. Then he realised that it wasn’t a weird presence that he was supposed to track, but… total absence. The barista was emitting zero cursed energy.

“... Wh—”

“He’s dead.” Gojo said in a hushed tone, turning towards Yuji. “He’s been ‘reanimated’ for the service of the café, and the perk is… that he doesn’t know he’s dead, and his reanimated body is subconsciously performing reversed cursed technique, and infusing that positive energy into…”

He raised his mug. “Coffee.”

Yuji’s eyes widened.

“So that means that this entire place is… an innate domain?”

“... Well, to some extent, probably. It doesn’t behave like one, however, since the area seems to be controlled by whatever’s puppeting the barista. But since the barista’s body is automatically performing reversed cursed technique since his body isn’t capable of containing much cursed energy at all, the grip of the curse just… isn’t strong enough to make the barista its puppet. Instead, the curse is… technically subservient to the guy behind the counter.”

Gojo leaned backwards, smiling. “This place accumulates cursed energy from the entire neighbourhood here, because the curse is trying to aggregate more energy to stabilise. The body is immediately wasting it whenever he brews coffee.”

“So… this place is… a good thing?” Yuji tilted his head.

“To some extent? Yeah, it is. Since he’s absorbing lingering cursed energy, curses can’t form. And weak curses don’t want to approach this much cursed energy, so nobody has to worry about curses invading the area either. Funny, how for everyone else’s peace, someone, who doesn’t even know they’re the one who’s paying the price, died.” Gojo adjusted his blindfold. “And even after death, he’s not able to stop working.”

“I wonder if that makes him happy or not,” Yuji mumbled. “He’ll always be able to help his neighbourhood.”

“Yeah, but he’ll never be able to help himself."

“Do you think he’d want to, if he could?”

“... People only assume that self-sacrifice is a common choice because people who sacrifice themselves are remembered.” Gojo smirked and took a sip of coffee. “Nobody remembers the millions of choices people make every day just to save their own skin from a mild inconvenience.”

Speaking of mild inconvenience… two people rested in the sewers below the city.

Mahito gently closed the book he was glancing at, lounging lazily in his hammock. “Mary Douglas, in Purity and Danger, once said that dirt is… matter that is merely out of place.”

His voice echoed throughout the sewer canalizations. “Dirt outside is soil, seen in many places as something that there isn’t enough of in the urban cities. Yet… if you break a pot inside your house, you’ll probably grab a broom to sweep up the plant, and the dirt from the floor, before your mother can shout at you,” he giggled to himself, and took a deep, satisfied breath.

“Oh wait.” He rolled onto his stomach, his smile morphing into a sinister grin. “You don’t have a mom anymore, do you? You don’t even have a house!” He stifled a laugh. His eyes gazed into the darkness, knowingly. “... Oh Haihara, don’t be so afraid… They’ll be back soon, I promise!” He laughed, kicking his feet. “But I wonder. Where do you think is your ‘place’?”

Haihara stepped into the light and stared at him absentmindedly. “... people usually see the world through three lenses. The economic one, the judiciary one, and the scientific one. There are others, but they usually are created by some… mix of those three.” She stepped forward, head lowered as she gazed at the stagnant water resting in the canals. “Some will look at a pair of glasses and imagine the absurd price. Others assume the person struggles with sight. And others will think that it's good for them, and ignore it.”

“Your point?” Mahito’s grin simmered back into a thin smile.

“Well, I think that’s dumb. That places… emphasis on the world. The world doesn’t deserve emphasis.”

“That’s not what I asked you, filth.” Mahito’s smile vanished in an instant.

“I’m getting to it,” she sighed. “My place isn’t here. It’s in whatever world comes after. I don’t care about being ‘in my place’. That’s something that others can worry about. All I care about is living something that is worth living. By any metric.”

The curse stared at her, studying her exhausted expression, but let her continue. “... Acknowledging mortality allows us to break the singularity of life—”

Then, Mahito’s grin snapped back. “Oh, is that so?” He lurched out of the hammock and forced his forehead against hers. “I see what you’re doing. You’re acting like you have everything under control, after reading some Martin Heidegger?” He placed both of his hands on her face, palpating her cheeks as he pushed her effortlessly towards a wall. “You think you’re so smart, placing your whole identity on some book I had lying around, don’t you?!” He slapped her, making her fall over to the side. Her eyes were half lidded, and her heartbeat was… slow.

That made Mahito pause, then groan. “You’re just so… stupid.” He glared at her as she got back up. “You’re so good at delegating your life around already, you might as well just die and ease the burden for us, who actually want to do something here.”

She didn’t look at him; her eyes vaguely glanced at the ladder leading out of the sewer through a manhole. “... I don’t really care what you think.”

Mahito cackled. “Oh, acting tough, all of a sudden? Did your mind become strong, stoic, because your feelings got hurt, and you want to prove to me that you’re not really crying inside?” His neck elongated and coiled around her throat like a serpent. His head lodged itself right behind her ear, his hair brushing on hers. “You’re so desperate for a daddy to look up to that you read a Nazi’s book and nodded like a dog, craving for attention. You think you’re strong? You think you can stand up to me?”

Mahito’s grin faded, the amusement once in his voice vanishing in an instant. “If Geto didn’t want you alive, I’d have crushed that weak spine of yours when we first met.”

“... Yeah. Whatever you say.” She mumbled, turning away, lightly trembling.

Mahito paused again, and his neck slowly retracted back to his head. “Tch. Don’t you dare cry in front of me. Get out of my sight.” he flicked the back of his hand towards her as he walked away. She stared at him for a moment before hurrying towards the ladder. 

As she climbed halfway up, one of Mahito’s arms grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her straight back down to the ground, kicking up dust and staining the back of her blazer. She yelped in pain, but felt the wound go numb immediately as her body was healed right after. She glared at Mahito for a second before her eyes went back to that neutral, disinterested look. “You nearly forgot your eyepatch,” his hand extended to the damp corner where Haihara had kept the books she was reading. He grabbed the eyepatch and threw it at her face. She caught it just before impact.

“Thanks.” She put it back on and climbed out, refusing to say another word.

He stared up at the manhole for an instant before laughing it off.