Cursed Eyes (Itachi in JJk)

Jiki's mind raced. There were different grades of cursed tools, but it wasn't until a cursed tool had a specific ability tied to it during its creation that the cursed tool transcended into a special-grade cursed tool. Each of them was a powerhouse that could multiply a sorcerer's strength by a factor of two if the sorcerer was wise and calculated in its usage.

So what did that say of deific-grade cursed tools? The only other one he had heard about was his Blade of Totsuka—a deity-grade cursed tool Susanoo had used to behead the multi-headed cursed snake, Orochi. An act that he had once replicated. Was that one of the reasons for his strange relationship with the deities in this world?

Rapid movements drew his attention. Utahime was scurrying about, her pace a thing of legend as she searched for something or a lack of something. After her furious search, she finally halted and turned to them with an uncomfortable expression on her face.

"It's gone as well, our piece of Sukuna's finger."

The elderly miko stared at Utahime with a smile. A smile that rapidly transitioned into a laugh, a hacking, rough thing that forced the woman to kneel over. Jiki moved instinctively, placing a hand on her shoulder and another on her lower back, propping her up, while Utahime rushed over to resume her duties.

"Ah, I've not laughed like that in a long time," the elderly miko admitted as she managed to get herself upright, though still hunched.

"Aketumi-sama," Utahime replied to the older woman, her tone and features laced with care and concern, while Jiki took a step back.

"Ah, do not worry about me, child. You know you have bigger fish to fry. Everything is moving so fast now. Things have changed so much that I cannot say for certain. I even find some amusement in my curse technique being rendered useless." With a final chuckle to get it out of her system, she turned to Utahime. "Now, the missing Hiten, you know what that means, don't you? What that signifies."

Utahime nodded. "Sukuna."

Jiki felt lost for a moment, but then the memory returned to him. He had read about it once. At the peak of Sukuna's reign, he had wielded multiple cursed tools to sow havoc. While the twisted sorcerer was powerful, in the golden age of sorcery there had been many sorcerers who, while not his equals, were formidable. Those cursed tools had helped him fight them by the dozens.

"Good. Judging from the frigid ice, that muppet must be working and pulling the strings as well. Fortunately for me, it is not a problem I will live long enough to care for, so I shan't. It is a problem for the person who comes after me," the elderly miko finished flatly with that gumless smile, staring at Utahime.

Jiki picked up on what the older woman was implying before Utahime did. His eyes narrowed while Utahime's face remained confused.

The old woman straightened from her hunched posture as other shrine maidens slowly descended the stairs they had followed minutes ago. Jiki noted that these newcomers were all sorcerers, and half of them were armed with cursed weapons.

The older woman allowed her gaze to drift over the group before settling once more on a bewildered Utahime.

"Utahime Iori, by the authority vested in me as she that speaks for She that Illuminates the Heavens, I name you my successor." The old woman concluded with her trademark gumless smile. Jiki allowed a small smile to slip onto his face as he watched horror and confusion wage war on Utahime's features.

"Oh," was the stunned Miko's only response.

Jiki turned away and began to walk off. Sukuna was still a distant threat, and while the schism had been averted and a Miko that he was nominally friends with was bound to be the next Miko, It meant that the Shrine maidens were now bound to him.

But as he left them behind, Ignoring the procession of women on both sides, and started to climb the stairs that led out of the vault, a question came to mind, and he slowed until he came to a stop. One foot was placed on the stairs, the other still on the ground.

He turned back and asked the question. "Head Shrine Maiden." The old woman turned to him, and he continued, "Have you heard the name Kenjaku before?"

Her brows rose at the question and then furrowed in thought. "Hmmm. That is not a name I would have expected to hear from you, especially not in this era."

"So you know him," Jiki noted, his tone shifting and turning as frigid as the inverted iceberg that stood over them. This time, he turned to face her, putting the brunt of his attention on her.

The old woman's features twisted into a contemplative frown as she took an instinctive step back at the sheer vitriol he had packed into those few words.

"Calm down, child. Old Kenny is from a time before now, centuries ago. He should be dead and gone by now."

"And if he's not? If he still walks? If he still plots" he continued as he turned, taking a step toward the older woman. Utahime moved to stand in front of her, a scared look on her face, but at that moment, he didn't care. His full attention was focused on the older woman hidden behind her.

"If he still draws breath and still curses people even till this day..."

With every word, the older woman's eyes widened further until they looked like two pale light bulbs staring back at him as she was struck with a sudden realization

"He was the one, wasn't he? The one that cursed the girl and your maid?"

Jiki's silent stare was his reply, and the old woman let out a shaky breath.

"I apologize, Scion, but other than a brief note in a journal about a conversation he had with one of my predecessors centuries ago, I don't know much about him."

Jiki frowned, and the older woman continued with a small amount of haste.

"But there is someone that the writings claimed was closer to him. Someone who was noted for being friends with Kenjaku during the time periods he was active and someone that still lives."

It took Jiki a second, but he arrived at the answer all the same, for who else was old enough to have lived centuries ago other than the oldest sorcerer in Japan?

It seemed like he would be meeting Tengen, whether the centuries-old sorcerer liked it or not.

...

Jiki left the Miko's shrine with knowledge—and yet even more questions. Those questions could wait, though, for he had something more important on his mind.

The car came to a stop, the entire journey a blur. He stepped out and began to walk, his movements lacking the languid grace he was known for. Instead, there was an urgency to his stride that made the clan members who saw him give him space after offering curt greetings, greetings that he ignored.

His hurried steps led him to the main house. Once again, he brushed past greetings from maids, cooks, and others of lower status who crossed his path.

He sensed a vaguely familiar cursed energy signature before his mundane senses caught up. Standing outside Aiko's room was a familiar figure: white hair, blue-green eyes, sharp features, a wiry yet solid frame, and a tall height. The man wore a traditional yukata, his appearance exuding a quiet confidence. This was the Head of the Gojo Special Forces.

This time, Jiki slowed his steps before coming to a halt, tilting his head questioningly at the man.

"Jiki-sama," the man began, giving a short bow, not as deferential as he would to the clan leader, but respectful enough. While Jiki was not officially the successor, owing to Satoru's laziness and disinterest in the traditional rites that would bestow the title, everyone knew he was the heir in all but name.

"Ukitake," Jiki replied curtly.

"Satoru-sama informed me of the importance of your mission, and judging by the movements, I assume you were successful?" the man inquired rhetorically. Jiki merely nodded in response.

"I see. Then I will leave you to your tasks, but first, you should know that something has come up. It involves the Zenin and the Kamo. When Satoru-sama returns, we will summon you at your earliest convenience."

For the first time since leaving the shrine, Jiki focused on the present. His eyes narrowed at the man's words. The Zenin had been stirring for some time now with their failed attempts at weaponizing vessels, but the Kamo had been unusually quiet. Too quiet.

"I'll be there," Jiki replied with a nod. "But first, I need old man Tatsumi's chamber cleaned and prepared for a ritual. Utahime Iori should be arriving soon. When she does, lead her there."

The man's features tightened briefly, likely imagining the carnage Jiki had left in the room, but he nodded nonetheless and turned to leave. As the man walked away, Jiki flicked a folded paper at the back of his head. The man caught it easily. A list of requirements for the ritual.

Jiki turned back to Aiko's door. Mastering his racing thoughts, he stepped inside.

His brisk pace took him to her unconscious form. Gently, his hand pushed the hair from her pale face. He scowled at the cursed etching on her forehead but allowed the scowl to ease into his trademark apathetic look as he sat down beside her for long minutes, his hand intertwined with hers as he stared at her scarred face.

His internal clock informed him exactly when it was time, so he smoothly rose to his feet.

"You've waited long enough, Aiko."

With those words, he slipped his hand beneath her unconscious form and lifted her. She was light. He doubted she had ever been heavy, but the coma had taken its toll on her, and his mind turned to darker places.

Kenjaku.

He turned and stepped out of the room with Aiko in his arms, greeted by a scene that was rapidly becoming familiar. On both sides of the passage were maids. His Sharingan ensured that, though he hardly interacted with them, he knew them all the same.

Retainers of his household and people directly under Aiko's care. With their procession of bowed and submissive figures on either side, he strode forward, ready to reverse the curse that Kenjaku had placed on her.

...

Jiki's footsteps fell quietly, almost reverently, as he descended into the clan's depths, carrying Aiko in his arms.

The Gojo special forces worked fast, Jiki noted as he finally reached the chamber. The ground was pristine. His impromptu torture equipment was cleaned and neatly arranged on the table. The blood splatters lining the walls from when Jiki had ripped out toenails were gone, as were the hooks that had held up Yoruzu's body.

The most obvious difference, however, was the lack of a body itself. It had been cleanly disposed of, with none the wiser, at least none outside the clan. For say what you would about the Gojo, they respected power and feared it. The elders had come to understand that they could not move him, so they had bent the knee. The clan as a whole could feel the dogs at the gates, and like all clans faced with an outside threat, they banded together tighter than before.

The second obvious difference was the smoothly dug hole in the ground, filled with water. Some kind of technique must have hastened the process, but Jiki did not care enough to ask. Instead, he took slow steps until his feet entered the man-made pond, yet he continued walking.

The water swayed gently at his intrusion, climbing higher and higher the deeper he went until it crested against his hips. That was when he released his tight grasp on her and watched her float on her back.

"Jiki," Utahime called out from behind him, her voice low with concern.

"Are you ready?" Jiki inquired in return as he softly backpedaled. But Utahime's reply was discarded as he felt something, an ache in his right eye, like someone was knocking at the back of it.

He had an idea about what was happening, so without even bothering with words, he willed it. His eyes burned in response to how quickly he had been activating them. His usage of the Reverse Curse Technique was too slow to heal the damage, at least not without long rest periods in between, but Jiki was still learning. It was only a matter of time before he became proficient enough that it didn't matter.

A red spectral bone arm manifested behind him, accompanied by a ribcage and clavicle to hold it up. In that limb was a jar. With a flex of his cursed energy, it twisted open, and a blur shot out.

"Ah, that took you long enough. I was growing worried you had forgotten about little ol Jorogumo," the Special Grade curse called out in her sultry tone. Jiki looked up to find that, in the few seconds since he released her, she had spun herself some sort of hammock, where she rested languidly.

"I assume you have a reason for requesting to be let out," Jiki went straight to the point. Jorogumo pouted in response, blowing a raspberry at him before replying.

"Ma Ma, aren't you on edge?" She laughed in reply, till she saw something on his face that strangled her laughter. "Fine, I'll be quick. Do you know why you modern sorcerers are trash? Other than you, of course," Jorogumo stated bluntly, with no true care.

Jiki's response was his continued silence and a red-eyed stare, so she hurried along.

"With the exception of perhaps those annoying gnats that call themselves shrine maidens, most of you have discarded or forgotten much in a bid to optimize cursed energy usage. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing, yet like with all optimization, some things are lost. This means that after centuries of trying to optimize things, you sorcerers have forgotten what Jujutsu truly is at its base."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Twofold reasons. One, because if you do this wrong and fail, that's another couple of weeks where you would be too busy being moody and where I would not have your attention, what with you being hyper-focused on the maid again.

The second, and most important, reason is that we are tied together now. For Sukuna is free, and it's only a matter of time before he incarnates fully."

There was a tremble in her voice one that Jiki recognized as fear, but the curse hid it well as she continued. "Unlike what most history books tell you, the four-armed bastard is not a simple brute. So when he does escape, I would rather not be on the front lines of that fight. This is what I offer: knowledge over strength. After all, this was why you spared me from being slaved and turned into an empty puppet, wasn't it." She finished with an uncanny smile.

So it was certain. She truly had a way to bypass the genjutsu that occurs while trapped in the Jar to observe the world even while sealed.

"You want another binding vow," Jiki replied with realization, and the cursed spirit's smile widened.

"Not a new one. I simply want to reinforce the old one."

"You asked for my heart," Jiki noted, and he saw the curse twitch in response. Her cheeks flushed as something that could be vaguely termed as embarrassment colored them.

"I meant you. I wanted to be the target of your obsession. Your love. Your attention. Your focus. Everything that is you. I wanted that for myself."

Jiki raised a brow. "You were not quite as detailed."

Jorogumo shrugged her pale dainty shoulders. "Yes, I was lost in the moment. But we digress. Back to the reinforced binding vow. When you face Sukuna, do not bring me out. If you die in battle, I would be disappointed, but such is the purview of mortals, and so be it. In exchange, I'll tell you all I know and help you a single time, whenever you overextend yourself—against anyone that isn't Sukuna, of course."

Jiki thought about it for a few seconds. She wasn't lying. Jorogumo wasn't a combatant on the same level as he was. The first time they fought, he had outsmarted and outfought her, her only threats being her immense cursed energy, healing, and knowledge, coupled with his youth and inexperience.

The second time they fought, she ran. Yes, she had been surrounded by three of the strongest humans, yet her fleeing had been instinctual. At her heart, Jorogumo was a coward. A spider.

"Fine." Once again, there was a shift in the environment as the binding vow took effect, and her smile somehow managed to widen further in response to reveal the mandibles she had hidden.

"Good, now we'll begin your impromptu lesson. When it comes down to its very essence, Jujutsu at its core, is a ritualistic act. Simply put, they are a series of rites performed in a particular order to bring forth miracles.

Cursed techniques are highly compacted rituals to banish curses. The reverse curse technique that you humans copied from our natural regeneration started off as a ritual for healing, and reinforcing your very mortal and weak forms are rituals of hardening. Do you understand?" 

Jiki was silent as the synapses in his brain ignited like wildfire, each one sparking revelations that cascaded through his consciousness. He felt his perception unravel and expand, as though he were simultaneously sinking into an ocean of knowledge and rising above the limitations of human comprehension.

He knew this feeling and even while lost in those words, he found himself wondering. If this was an enlightenment gotten from mere words, then what would he experience from a Black flash?

"You monstrous, genius bastard. You truly do not belong in this atrophied era." Jorogumo's voice carried a sharp edge, laced with amusement. Her laughter echoed faintly, as though coming from deep underwater. "The things we could have achieved if you'd been born just a few centuries earlier." The curse turned away from his still form and continued. "You, Miko, you must have read the same scroll he did. Begin the ritual. Now."

Words were said from outside his bubble of enlightenment. Movement was made, and power flowed. Cursed energy bubbled alongside the water that held Aiko. 

He didn't know when his lips began to move, nor when his hands clasped together, yet he knew they had happened, they were happening. Suddenly, everything began to happen together, all at once. 

He felt more than saw his partner on the other side of the pool—a woman with long black hair and a scar—wearing a white and red hakama. Who was she? Utahime. 

They spoke together, their voices reverberating in the stillness of the chamber. 

"She walks, purity humanized and given form, fair of skin and white of hair. What does she do? Cleanse." 

Jiki felt his fingers shift and twist instinctively, a connection between body and mind as gestures and words he had imprinted into his brain with the aid of his Sharingan were replicated by his fingers and his lips, his cursed energy twisting in reply to the hand signs. 

There was movement in the water, frantic and struggling, and he found it hard to witness, but somehow he knew they couldn't stop now, so he continued. 

"Her hands rise, tracing silver of light, drawing peace from chaos and calm from storm. What does it do? Calm." 

The struggling slowed, and the synchronized voice continued, ringing out without missing a beat or tone. 

"Eyes like moonlight, steadfast and cold, turn dark to light, chasing and undoing the night. What does she do? Purify." 

There was a scream, and his heart wrenched, while fire filled his veins. Kenjaku. Yet they could not stop, not now, not when they were almost done. His fingers shifted once again, his cursed energy twisting in response. 

"Her voice, soft yet sharp as the wind on carved stone, marking it for eternity. It cuts through stone, lies, doubt, fear, and curses. What does it do? Banish." 

The last words were said with a cold finality, and Jiki felt a change in the air as his eyes cleared. He looked into the pool, now contaminated with vile gunk, with Aiko at the center where she retched out a clump of matted black hair tied with a red string. 

The cursed object that was placed into her to support the curse. 

Then she looked up at him, clarity in her shrunken amber eyes, and there was that spark. "J-Jiki?" 

A voice called out, unused due to weeks of silence, and if Jiki was a weaker man, he would have fallen to his knees with tears in his eyes. Instead, he smiled back at her, his heart warm and his face flush. 

"Welcome back, Aiko." 

Yet hidden beneath his smile was a hate and malice he had not known since he heard about what Danzo had done after he and Tobi had slaughtered his clan. 

Kenjaku, but first, Tengen.