Between the unspoken words

The room was wrapped in a cold, muffled silence, as if the world outside had retreated to hold its breath.

The curtains swayed gently, moved by a wind that came from no open window.

The air was still—but restless.

As if something was waiting.

I sat on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to my chest, eyes fixed on the emptiness ahead.

The phone trembled faintly in my hands, though I didn't seem to notice.

Thoughts chased each other like off-season waves: disordered, insistent, relentless.

Gojo sensei's words. Yuji's visit. Toge's silent absence.

It all throbbed inside me, like a distant drum—slow, but unstoppable.

I stood with a broken breath.

Went to the mirror.

My reflection stared back at me.

But something felt off.

My eyes were… different.

Darker, maybe. Or just more tired.

The image wavered slightly, as if the surface of the glass were water.

For a moment—too long to ignore—I saw a shadow behind me.

But when I turned, there was nothing.

Only the harsh sound of my breath, and the erratic beating of my heart.

Then—something.

A whisper.

Not a real sound.

More like a thought that wasn't mine.

A thread of voiceless voice, vibrating through flesh and bone.

"You're beautiful… when you're alone."

I gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white with strain.

Closed my eyes, but the words kept pulsing inside me.

"They don't understand you. Not like I do. I was born from you. For you."

"Let me come closer…"

My breath quickened.

My shoulders trembled.

I was cold, though nothing in the room had changed.

The mirror was now fogged over, though there was no steam.

At its center, a tiny hand—childlike—pressed against the glass from the inside.

I stepped back, heart pounding madly in my chest.

But then… it was gone.

In the blink of an eye, the room was empty again.

The mirror, clear.

No voice. No hand

Only my reflection—and the sense that something had rooted itself deep inside,too deep to be expelled.

I touched my left arm.

It felt warm, alive.

But inside… something was stirring.

And I knew it.

In that room, still heavy with the echo of an invisible voice, I tried to steady my breathing.

I had just placed a hand on my chest, trying to calm the rhythm, when someone knocked.

Three knocks. Sharp. Familiar.

I flinched, startled.

Then Panda's voice, muffled through the door:

"Rebecca? Gojo-sensei needs to see you. It's urgent."

I opened the door, heart already braced.

Panda's face was more serious than usual.

No jokes, no teasing tone that always colored his presence.

That alone told me something had happened.

"There's a spiritual anomaly at the edge of the city. It's strong. Strange. Gojo-sensei is on alert. He's gathering backup… But we're short."

I nodded.

The hallway felt narrower, longer.

Each step toward Gojo's office weighed on my ankles, as if the floor itself tried to hold me back.

But I didn't slow.

When I entered, Gojo-sensei was already there.

Standing in front of the open window, curtains waving behind him like tired wings.

The air smelled of distant rain.

He turned. No smile. No mask.

Just his clear, serious eyes.

The real ones.

"I want to go, Gojo-sensei. I know I'm not ready yet, but…"

"You're not ready. Not yet." he said softly, weighing every word. "But I know I can't stop you. And if you go…"

He stepped closer, lowered his head slightly toward me, voice deep and quiet—

"…go with a cool head. And a steady heart."

I nodded. Once. Firmly.

"Who's coming with me?"

The voice that answered wasn't Gojo's.

It was Yuji's, standing just inside the doorway.

He must've followed me in silence—maybe he'd been waiting.

Eyes determined.

Body already in battle stance.

"I'll go."

"He's going with you. Only him," added Gojo-sensei. "You're a special grade. He's Sukuna's vessel. I can't risk anyone else. I'll join you soon."

I looked at him.

Immediately, I felt my heart sway like a branch burdened with too much weight.

Every part of me screamed that maybe—just maybe—this wasn't a good idea.

Not with him.

Not now.

But the words died in my throat.

"Alright." I said.

It was a mistake.

And I felt it—in the marrow of my bones.

But I accepted it.

Because Yuji was strength. He was heat.

He was the part of me I had never wanted to examine too closely.

And now, as I braced myself for something I probably should never have faced, I needed that part too.

Time was running out.

And the curse… was already waiting.

***

The mission took us to the outskirts of the city, where the border between civilisation and oblivion was as thin as wet paper. An abandoned school park, swallowed by time and vegetation, awaited us like a held‑back breath.

The gate groaned at the lightest touch. The main building— a blackened concrete block— had windows like empty eye‑sockets. The lamp‑posts swayed, yet there was no wind. Still, the air brushed against our skin: thin, cold. Like a whisper.

The smell came first: rust, wet earth, and something deeper— fresh iron, like recently spilled blood. Every step we took on the cracked ground echoed too loudly, as if the whole place were holding its breath.

I was nervous as never before. A terrible premonition gnawed at me.

Yuji turned toward me.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, though my hands trembled slightly.

We crossed the bare atrium, between peeling corridors and walls furred with pale moss. The shadows… moved the wrong way. They didn't follow our bodies; they seemed to evade, contract, listen.

And then, the voice.

"Rebecca…"

A faint, childish sound. Feminine. Hanging in mid‑air.

"Oh God…" I gasped, stopping dead. Instinctively, Yuji threw an arm out in front of me.

Something—someone—appeared at the far end of the corridor.

It had human features, yet looked incomplete. The body was small, like a little girl's, but disarticulated, a puppet on invisible strings. Long wet hair clung to its face. The eyes… were black slits, empty—wounds without bottom.

"Do you remember me?"

The voice was off‑key, like a broken music‑box.

My heart pounded. I couldn't move. Part of me… recognised her.

Yuji took a step forward. "What is that thing…?"

But the creature wasn't looking at him.

It looked only at me.

"You left me there. With the shadows. But now… I can come in too. I can take something. A part of you."

The creature stared with hollow eyes carved from darkness. Its half‑human body twisted unnaturally, as if moved by impulses beyond will— a broken child born of ancient pain.

Yuji placed himself in front of me. "Stay back. I'll handle it."

But I couldn't let him go.

This thing wasn't like the others. It wasn't an ordinary curse. Something personal, deep and distorted… was calling my name. I felt it: if it struck, it would not strike at random.

"No!" I whispered, shoving him back. My hands barely brushed him, but it was enough. I stepped between him and the horror.

Yuji's eyes widened. "What are you doing?!"

"It's after me, not you. Trust me."

One heartbeat. An instant. A brittle sound in the air, like shattering glass.

And then… the creature lunged.

Too fast.

An inhuman scream, a black streak slicing the air like a claw forged from memory and rage. I turned just in time and raised my arm— not to shield myself, but to protect Yuji.

The blow hit me full on.

It wasn't pain, not at first. It was… absence.

A sudden void. A silent gash.

My left arm vanished as though it had crumbled into ash.

My breath caught in my throat. My legs buckled. Yet I didn't scream. I stayed upright long enough to meet Yuji's eyes and murmur:

"I told you… it wasn't after you."

Yuji caught me as I fell to my knees, disbelief in his trembling hands trying to stanch a bleeding that wasn't only blood, but something deeper—essence.

"Rebecca! REBECCA!"

I looked at him, face pale, breath ragged.

"I'm fine…" I whispered. But it was a lie.

The emptiness gnawed at my side, invaded my mind. And inside me… the voice.

A cold, thin whisper, like a needle threading through thoughts.

"Now we are one."

Yuji held me tight, eyes shining. But I trembled. Not from pain— not only.

Because I understood.

The curse hadn't taken just my arm.

It had taken a part of me.

And it would never give it back.