Cursed Eyes (Itachi in JJk)

Uraume walked briskly. Her hands clasped tightly over the long box she held, and her thoughts ran.

She had been so close.

So close to the Scion of She That Illuminated The Heavens. The shining star the gods had seemingly put their fate in. The gods that Uraume had abandoned the moment she decided to follow another.

Her lord and master, a calamity that ran over everything that crossed his path. The imaginary god Ryuomen Sukuna.

She could've snuffed that usurper by herself, before the child could truly turn out as a threat against her lord, if not for that slippery bastard, Kenjaku.

...

It had been another one of their meetings. This time it was set up on a train. The group of them had taken over a single car for themselves, even if the only visible people on the train were Uraume and Kenjaku. The four special-grade curses present had been enough to sow dread into the humans, and they had avoided their section.

The old body hopper had picked the spot simply because he had wanted to look outside at the passing surroundings as the train sped by, too fast for mundane humanity to see anything other than a blur of motion.

"Japan has truly grown to be a beautiful place."

Uraume frowned in response as she briefly glanced out the window, before shifting her focus to the other occupants in the cab. There was the humanoid curse that was barely distinguishable from a sorcerer. The patch-faced curse sat beside Kenjaku and nodded happily at the words.

Kenjaku had taken the newborn curse spirit under his wing, and though Uraume doubted the curse could see it, not with how half-blinded by fear it had been when it had joined them.

Devoid of the original body that Kenjaku would've used to take control of the curse, the immortal bastard had chosen to weave a web of manipulation over his teachings. Slowly but surely, he was binding the humanoid curse to himself.

Her pale eyes drifted to the corner side and the duo seated there. One was a mad curse, proof that a curse could slowly change into something else. What she was changing into, Uraume was not certain, but what had originally begun as a curious bud, a cursed spirit bearing Mother Nature's wrath had been twisted into something else.

If she had to guess, it was slowly transitioning into a Vengeful curse spirit.

A mad monster of grief and rage, one that was barely held back by the childlike cursed womb it cradled in its giant limbs, and whispered its mad words to. Placing the cursed womb in Hanami's hands had been another masterful display of manipulation by Kenjaku.

Binding the maddened curse spirit to their cause while also distracting it by giving it something it could protect and focus on. Uraume had been briefed on the loss of the volcano curse and understood it had been a setback, one that showed that the other curse spirit, Hanami, had done more than care for its partner.

Uraume held back a chuckle as she wondered—perhaps the saying was true after all. A saying as old as Jujutsu; love was truly the most twisted curse of them all.

The last member of their cadre was hidden in a corner. A curse that made Uraume's skin crawl. The replacement for the volcano-headed curse spirit and the last inner member. A curse that was so strong that it had slipped past Gojo Satoru multiple times.

Its attention shifted, and Uraume turned away from it to avoid meeting its beady eyes.

"Truly, humanity is something else," Kenjaku continued in a forlorn tone, made all the more sad due to the soft feminine voice he spoke with.

"We are going to crush them!" Hanami spat out in reply to Kenjaku's words, her telepathic voice a spike to the brain of everyone present, Uraume sent a glare at the white and black striped curse while Kenjaku turned to the mad curse, face as solid as Uraume's ice, before a sick, placating smile formed on his face. A smile that hid the true malice of the monstrous and manipulating body hopper.

"Of course, my dear. Now, take a look at poor Dagon. I think he's squirming a bit. Perhaps he's ready to wake?" The words came out as smooth as silk, perfectly toned like the bastard cared, and it was enough to distract Hanami, as the twisted curse shifted its attention back to the curse it was cradling. The Earth mother was more than destruction; it was a life-giver as well.

"The mad curse speaks true, but that's not why I'm here. I'm here because you promised you have a way to stop the child with the Six Eyes' hunt for me." The figure in the corner spoke, its voice reverberating with power. For among them all, in curse energy alone, it was the strongest, and in experience, it edged even Kenjaku.

"Of course. You're a big key to doing that, but you seem to be forgetting about the other Gojo."

The curse let out a snort that rang out in the enclosed box, and it was only the timely use of curse energy to reinforce their ears that spared Uraume from spending curse energy to heal ruptured eardrums.

"A child that speaks words it doesn't understand, a child constrained to the lands of Japan with no desire to seek me. What is there to fear?"

Kenjaku chuckled in response, shifting his tone to sound different as he spoke to the other curse.

"If Gojo Satoru is the hammer of Jujutsu society, then Jiki is the scalpel that they're still sharpening. The moment he's deemed ready, or something happens, that's when he would be used as a weapon. If not for how public his first battle was at the age of five, perhaps he would've been well-hidden."

Kenjaku continued as he stared into the beady eyes of the cursed spirit. "But you're right. He's young, weaker, and less infallible than his cousin, yet he proved it as a child. A single disaster curse is not enough to confront him and win. Jogo learned that the hard way."

The curse bristled in response, and Uraume noted from the side of her eyes how the name Jogo made the mad curse, Hanami, still for a heartbeat.

"I'm no mere disaster curse, Kenjaku. I'm—"

Kenjaku raised his hand placatingly. "I know, I know, but I don't believe that's simply enough. We already have a plan." Kenjaku's eyes drifted from the curse in the corner to the rest of them, making sure to meet each and every one of their eyes.

"Each and every one of you is instrumental to it. So we take care of the bigger threat first—Gojo Satoru. Then we focus on Jiki. Until then, avoid the duo. No matter what."

They had all nodded that day, including Uraume.

...

Uraume pushed open the doors of the temple that they had turned into a temporary base—a move taken from the books of Suguru Geto. A temple, hidden in the cursed place of the suicide forest.

Uraume opened the door and slipped past the barrier that Kenjaku had created, and a scream filled with pain and despair filled the air before it was abruptly cut off.

"Hello, Uraume. Do you like my work?"

Uraume stared down at the twisted and malformed figure in the center of the shrine and ignored the patch-faced curse and its words before shifting their attention to Kenjaku and gesturing for the immortal sorcerer to follow.

"Don't mind her, Mahito. Uraume simply doesn't understand the beauty of art," Kenjaku replied as he walked past his student and tapped the curse's head in a loving gesture before walking to meet them, so they turned.

The duo stepped out of the shrine and stared into the landscape.

"I assume the long big box in your hands is for me and that you were successful, then."

Uraume glanced back at the man wearing the face of a woman. "Yes, but you're wrong. They're not for you. They're for my lord."

"Blah, blah. Potato potato," Kenjaku replied with a shrug and a chuckle before turning to her. Despite Uraume's feelings about it, she turned to face him, and as Kenjaku's hands stretched to slide it open, she spoke.

"Look at it, but don't touch it. The only hands that deserve to caress its worn bronze hilts are my master's."

Kenjaku gave her that patronizing smile he used to placate their other nominal allies before he shifted the lid and opened the box.

The moment the box opened, the restrictions on the deity-grade curse tool lifted, and its energy surged. Yet Kenjaku and Uraume were not mediocre sorcerers. They stared down at the trident in the box—a trident made of gold, bronze, and celestial steel. And besides it was a piece of her lord. That was the one thing that Kenjaku was allowed to take, and he took it and slipped it into his robes, yet his eyes remained on the trident.

"My sources were right, then. The Hiten truly survived the centuries. How wonderful. That should be enough." With those final words, Kenjaku closed the lid shut, gave Uraume a smile, and returned to continue his tutoring of Mahito.

Uraume was left to find her way to a room, where she wrapped up the box in thick ropes before tying it to her back, yet her mind drifted to the words Kenjaku said again: That should be enough. But it wasn't. If her lord sought to incarnate once more, then he was going to come back as he was, and Uraume would find the other cursed tool if it survived the centuries. And once again her lord would be whole.

…

He watched her eat from behind a curtain. Her dexterity had been heavily affected by her coma, which meant she was unable to use chopsticks, so they had defaulted to using spoons. Yet the simple attempt at picking up the spoon, filling it with soup, and bringing it up to her lips was a struggle.

Still, his Aiko was one of the most resilient people he knew. A girl without cursed energy who had jumped in the way of an attack for his sake. A girl who had been healed but had immediately resumed caring for him, even though she had been barely discharged minutes ago from Old Man Tatsumi's care.

Kenjaku.

"Diagnosis?" he whispered to the woman behind him as a waft of smoke drifted above them.

He didn't need to see the pitying glance Shoko was giving him; he heard it in her voice. "Slightly atrophied muscle. The damage is long-term, so it's not something that can be simply healed with reverse cursed energy. I still think it would be better to move her to Jujutsu High. I can watch over her better, and she would be more protected."

Jiki disagreed slightly. The Gojo clan compound and Jujutsu High had both been breached by the same person, but he agreed she would recover faster under Shoko's care. "I would consider it after my meeting," he acquiesced as he turned back to Aiko.

Nowhere was truly safe from Kenjaku, and defense was not a game Jiki enjoyed. Yet right now, there were more than twenty sorcerers protecting this particular building at any point in time, the full strength of the Gojo clan special ops squad. Yet he knew they only acted to slow down any truly determined attacker.

Jiki turned away from Aiko, his footsteps as quiet as a cat as he left the room, Shoko behind him.

…

Gojo Satoru stood before his students, a bashful smile on his face as he stared at the three young sorcerers.

Megumi looked bored. The black-haired Fushiguro sat on the chair in a languid pose, like he was already tired of the class. Satoru blamed Toji for his horrible influence on such a kid's mind. Perhaps it wasn't too late to Hollow Purple the annoying man and adopt the kid and his sister. He doubted the Zenin clan would just close their eyes and watch him, but what were they going to do about it? He pinned the thought.

Nobara looked lost in thought. She sat up straight in her chair, her visible hand spinning a long, wicked-looking nail between her fingers with an ease that spoke of honed skill. He had gotten the unfiltered report from Ijichi, not the same desensitized report that Maki had made the older man give the higher-ups.

She had almost died. Multiple times in the space of minutes. That was how out of her league she had been in the fight against a three-finger-fueled Sukuna. For the second time in the brown-haired girl's life, she was faced with the fragility of her mortality. With the knowledge that the only reason she had survived all serious attempts to end her was the presence of another person. In this case, it was Maki's.

The exiled Zenin worked exactly as he had expected and hoped. The third person that was slowly creeping into his category of sorcerers. The third person he was bringing up to achieve his goal.

The last of the trio was Yuji, and unlike what Satoru originally thought, the kid didn't seem outwardly disturbed by his encounter. Yuji looked relaxed, yet there was that barely restrained energy the kid had to him, like a puppy that had been given sugar. In one of the throwaway conversations Satoru had with his little cousin about the kid, Jiki had described him as having an excess of Yang. Not that Satoru exactly understood the reference, but he had nodded along all the same.

Jiki most likely got the term from a book, and it wouldn't do for him as the older one to be oblivious.

Satoru cracked his neck to the side and rubbed at his eye wrap, an act that drew the attention of the three teenagers.

"Alright, so how are my second-favorite group of students doing?"

A chorused "Fine," was returned to him without much enthusiasm from two of the three. It was a good thing that Yuji more than made up for his classmates.

Satoru cleared his throat once more before speaking. "It has come to my attention that I might've kicked you a bit off the deep end with your first mission… oops."

He got a raised brow from Megumi, not that he had anything to do with the conversation when he was too busy fussing over his sister. A cute glare from Nobara almost made him giggle. Almost. But he was made of sterner stuff. Yuji looked embarrassed, his expression bashful and his face red, while he scratched the back of his head. So Satoru ignored the other two and focused on Yuji, which meant they were taking it quite well.

So he continued, "So I'm going to be making a couple of changes to the curriculum. Which means less missions and more practice and…" It almost hurt him to say it physically. "Classroom theory."

Again, the reactions were mixed. Nobara looked thoughtful, while Yuji looked disappointed. Leaving Megumi to return to his almost perpetual bored look.

It was not his fault. He was a firm believer in doing things on the edge. Learning from brutal experience. Sink or swim, with maybe a life jacket on the far end. It was how he had lived all his life, but maybe it wasn't the best method to take here. At least not with the volatility that was Sukuna's presence.

Yet the fact that they had experienced it once was enough of a lesson. Yuji had learned how to manipulate his body in the same way Sukuna did while the other was suppressed. It brought forth options for the kid. Options they could explore.

Nobara had gotten more intensive combat experience compared to the first time when she was just a bystander. With any hope, the experience would solidify her combat tactics. She was never going to be a close-combat fighter. If she was in close combat with an absolute monster for longer than a second, she was dead. She would have to stick to long-range, with the occasional mid-range.

Which wouldn't be an issue if she was fighting in a team. Yuji and Megumi more than made up for her weakness by taking up those spots. Yuji was an excellent close-combat specialist, while Megumi was the perfect all-rounder with the aid of his curse technique.

But she couldn't depend on them forever. She would never get to the peak if she was forced to depend on others to supplement her greatest weakness, which meant she would either need a way to survive close combat or get out of range quickly.

Satoru picked up a pen and paper and put his thoughts down into words before dropping it on the table and turning to the board, chalk in hand. As he wrote, he began to speak.

"Since you all know what Cursed Energy is, we are starting with the basics of the basics. I'm certain it's something you all have some passing familiarity with, a family member that taught you a bit"—he nodded at Nobara—"an unknown and unaffiliated teacher that put you through the basics." His attention shifted to Megumi. "And finally, the rare few that enter the world of Jujutsu as freshly birthed calves." Yuji's face flushed red once more.

"Cursed Energy reinforcement."

And with a quick smirk, he refocused his attention on the whole. He knew he was a horrible teacher, especially considering how easy he got things, so over the past few weeks, he had made great efforts to actually… break things down to help his students who did not have magic eyes or ridiculous talent.

"While reinforcement is the simplest and most common technique for sorcerers, there are nuisances to it. Limits to how much you can reinforce your body with Cursed Energy, an example is, with the difference in physique comes a difference in the ceiling of how much you can reinforce your body."

There was some confusion, so he continued. While Nobara and Megumi were listening in, this particular class was majorly for one person, the pink-haired kid who stared at him with focused eyes. "Let me give an easy example. Nobara here, for example, is like a glass cup. Even with impeccable control, there is only so much she can reinforce her body, for you cannot turn glass into diamonds. The same goes for even special grades like Jiki and I.

While I won't say we are glass cups thanks to our trained, honed physiques and lineage, we are closer to stainless steel water flasks. Yet we get by. I do so by using my cursed technique blue and red to pull people into my punches and send them away in a display of finesse. Jiki has his weird strength enhancement technique that helps him absolutely destroy whatever is unfortunate enough to be in front of his fists.

Without those bypasses, our limits are clearer, for at the end of the day, our physiques are still human. Well-trained, well-crafted, but human in the end. The same does not go for monsters like Yuji or Maki, who in their base state are already past the boundaries of humanity. You, who are blessed with physiques that are simply more than human, either by intent or by chance."

His mind drifted back to Yuji and the intent behind his special body. He somehow doubted the person behind it was completely benevolent.

He could see his student nodding, and he smiled in response. "So if there are no questions, we'll be moving on to more practical aspects of—"

His face turned as he saw Jiki in the far distance. His eyes pierced through the eye wrapping and past the multiple instances of walls and buildings in his way to stare at his cousin, and his brows furrowed in response.

Jiki was… "angry" felt like a suboptimal word that didn't bear the full weight of what he could see, so he used another: apoplectic. It was impossible to see it on his face, for only in his rarest moments did Jiki show the world an image that was not an apathetic facade, so even if he was angry, it hardly ever showed on his features.

But unlike his features, his cousin could not smother his Cursed Energy. Not enough to get past the Six Eyes, and from what he saw, he knew something had happened. Judging by the direction he was heading, his target was no doubt the Tomb of the Star Corridor, which meant either Emi or, most likely, Tengen. The question remained: what had the millennia-old sorcerer finally done to earn his wrath, and did he need to step in before Jiki killed one of the pillars that upheld modern-day Jujutsu society?

"-toru-sensei." Megumi's questioning voice forced him to pay attention to his students, and he replied to them with a smile.

"Well, things have gotten interesting. But the show must go on, so change to your sparring wear and meet me outside in a minute."

He got a variety of nods and weird looks as the trio marched out to the changing rooms, while he turned away and looked back at where Jiki was heading.

Even in the depths of his rage, his cousin was still a calculated, well-honed machine that somehow never picked violence as a first option, so he doubted Jiki would simply destroy his way past the defenses. He would start with diplomacy, which would give them time. Time for him to decide if he wanted to interfere with this, and time for Tengen to decide if he wanted to keep his defenses or lose them in an attack that called forth a god.

Satoru smiled in response as he sat back on his teacher's chair, legs outstretched and over each other, while his hands locked behind themselves to give his head better comfort. Either way, this seemed like fun, and Gojo Satoru had the front seats to it. What could possibly go wrong?

…

Jiki stalked through Jujutsu High like a ghost. He had thought he would never have to cross those giant red Torii gates again. Never have to climb those long staircases filled with pain again. Already, there had been plans to accelerate his graduation.

He was already far above the teaching body and his fellow students. His continued stay here would do nothing but slow him.

Now here he was, back to the school. As he walked, his eyes looked around, but not truly seeing. Instead, he had a single-minded focus on one thing and one thing only.

Emi's cursed energy signature. Even with the distraction of Satoru's ridiculous curse energy or the subliminal malevolent curse energy that overlaid Itadori Yuji's own, he ignored all of that as he strode forward, under revived trees in full bloom.

If he tried to track Emi in the regular sorcerer way, it would've been near impossible. The residuals she had left behind were so faded that they had become useless. But unlike any other person, Jiki was more than a simple sorcerer. He was a shinobi first, and that was where his mediocre, (with respect to actual full-time sensor nin ability) had the upper hand.

His feet took him to a random building, in much the same style as the rest: a wooden frame, old Japanese-themed architecture, stone foundations, and a red slanted roof.

There was nothing about the building that marked it as any different from the rest. Yet when Jiki reached out a hand, he was rebuffed, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

This passageway was still open. It had been the passageway he had used to slip into the Tomb of the Star Corridor, in time to save Geto's life and in an attempt to avenge Satoru.

Back then, the barrier had let him through as easily as a fish would slip through water. Back then, Tengen had been scared. Worried for her life. Worried enough to let in the one person she was seemingly distrustful of.

Now the sorcerer avoided him like a plague, and he suddenly remembered the old Miko's words: "Some of us simply turned away, putting our heads in the sand due to your presence." It couldn't have been clearer now that Tengen knew there was something about him.

For someone so tied to Japan and into the fate of sorcery itself, it's no surprise that the immortal sorcerer was aware he was an anomaly.

He stared down at the borderline-invisible barrier, took a breath, and knocked on it. As always, he started diplomatically, his voice barely above a whisper, but he was certain the sorcerer heard him anyway.

"Come out or die, Master Tengen."

Those simple words stilled the surroundings for a mile.