A MOTHER'S PRIDE, I WANT TO TAKE YOU DOWN

A DEGUTTED CHILD THAT DIDN'T SHOW

lilitu,

Masamichi Yaga was waiting for you - he knew you would come at the crack of dawn, and you did. You had steadied yourself before the mirror, looking back at someone else with an unwaveringly sad reflection. You had walked without meaning over to his office, the rubber soles of your converses scraping the sharp rocks. You had broken yourself, with the tosses and turns of a sleepless night, your room next to his, knowing it was empty. The events of that night paralyse you like God's fist hurling a lightning strike at the carapace of your body.

Even now, as you stand before the principal, legs shaking, he can see in your eyes just how lost your soul is. You wade through thick mists clouding your happiness and fight against the tide of the River Styx, desperately seeking rebirth from the trauma of yesterday. Moonlight sticks to the web of your palms as you chase after the night sky, wandering the depths of the universe like a lonely, loveless child. They say eyes are the windows to the soul and the more Masamichi stares at the dull orbs of yours, he realises they are steeped in acetone, polished with the wit of a saddened angel. Cradled and tethered to the temptation of death, you had mercilessly succumbed to it, lacking the potent strength needed to overcome it.

Itadori Yuuji's death had, quite simply put, broken you.

Your hands haven't stopped shaking since yesterday, trembling fingertips turned cold from the lack of his tepid warmth and shimmering brown eyes. Sukuna's power that slithered across your neck like a noose around your throat, crushing your lungs and even hours later, you still can't breathe without feeling bits of them. Itadori... and Sukuna... Two sides of a coin that viciously flashes and flips in the blink of an eye, bending the laws of nature.

Masamichi is stitching together the back of one of his dolls, his wit sharpened by the thin fragility of the needle. He doesn't need to look up to know you are there before him, legs buckling and backpack full of the little you could call your own.

"[Last Name], [First Name]," He begins stoically, unfazed by the way the tapestry of your persona unfurls and unwinds from misery. Finally, he looks up, a dark expression etched onto the outline of his face, like ink sinking into the purity of paper.

You lower your head, unable to meet his eyes, craving a bullet to your head, "I'm withdrawing from Jujutsu Tech."

Withdrawing, Masamichi thinks, lips curling bitterly at that word. He had underestimated the potency of your weaknesses, how they devoured you in this dark world, a world he had dropped you mindlessly into when he accepted you into this school.

"Taking it all back? Why?"

He knew why, of course; Itadori's death invoked the wrath of the heavens with the sorrow echoed out in the universe from when his body fell. Masamichi cast the doll to the side, hands folding over each other as he looks you.

You bite your lip nervously, "I'm not cut out for this. I did nothing... nothing... if I was better, if I was strong, I could have saved him."

"You desired this in the first place," Masamichi pushed further, knowing he could not afford to lose someone as intrepidly special as you - your skill set, your ancestry, your power... "Saving people because you couldn't save your mother."

The mention of your mother makes your hands ball into fists, "She died because of how horrible this world is."

Unperturbed by your stirring anger, Masamichi continues, "I don't need you to repeat the same words I told you in this room weeks ago. This world is the devil's world. People die every day, [L/n]."

"He wasn't supposed to die!" You blurt out, frustration creeping into your tone. "I can't do this... I can't watch everyone I know and care about to slip through my fingers like fucking sand."

Masamichi's hands join to form a steeple, "Do you know why I accepted you into this school?"

When you don't answer, just letting a tear trickle down the side of your cheek silently, he expands, "You are stronger than you think. You looked at Death in the eye, stared into the pit of this terrible world and you still continued to live. You know that people die every day but your past tries to tear down everything you have built. Do you know who you are, [L/n]?"

"Who...I am? My father's a drunk... My mother was killed by a curse... I am a descendant of an old jujutsu clan-"

"No," Masamichi narrows his eyes, cutting off your warbles, "You are just human. You want to walk away from all of this, as if doing that will make all of it go away like a bad dream. You think that quitting will bring Itadori back? You wish-"

You press your eyes shut, almost starting to cry, "Of course it's not going to bring him back! I know that! I don't deserve to stand there, to act like I could avenge him when I did nothing to save him back there!"

"Then," Masamichi purses his lips, a steady but unforgiving gaze seeping into your soul, "How are you going to live?"

You can already picture it, walking down the long and winding roads into the pale light, stepping off reality and onto the cobbled pathway outside your house. The sky is bright again, too bright and too luminous, yellow muddled with blinding white. Dust is gathering on all the rooms, a callous coldness dampening the air. The kitchen is empty and there's a pile of dishes trapped in the sink, filling it to a brim. A television buzzes in the background, a light noise that comes from upstairs. You will creep past crumpled cans of beer and hold your breath against the smell of alcohol and crawl up the stairs to avoid making a sound because you can hear glasses smashing behind closed doors. The world becomes smaller when you hurry into your room and look at the mess staring back at you.

The world doesn't change, not even if it loses someone, someone like him - Itadori.

Catching your breath, you look up, lips trembling and eyes threatening to spill a mirage of tears, "I... I don't... want to live like that again."

"Your father is angry, I presume," Masamichi says strenuously, although there's a light calmness hiding in his tone somewhere. "I had Satoru - Gojo-sensei - speak to him about your admission here. He was not pleased needless to say; He doesn't want you to follow the same path as your mother."

Finally, his words incite something and you fall to your knees, nails digging into the wood on the floor, "I just want to be more than what life gave me... I don't want my mother to die in vain... for her to be forgotten and overlooked like some roadside flower, a pebble on the beach. I have this power and I don't deserve it... not one bit. Someone as spineless as me should be wasting away back home."

"But..." Masamichi arches an eyebrow, feeling the change of tone in your voice.

"I'm selfish," You whisper, starting to sob on the floor, feeling your skin watered by the plentiful tears, "I don't want to die. I don't want to be useless."

Masamichi looks down unsympathetically at you, a crying girl releasing the build up of pressure that cracks your skull, "I never said you were useless. You are only blinded by your past and your actions. I accepted you not for what you are right now but for who you will become."

You lightly nod, wiping away your tears, "I don't want to let you down, or anyone else. I don't want to let Itadori down... I can't... I followed him into this world... away from everything else I've known just for him."

Masamichi finally exhales, reaching a verdict, "Now you know not to make the wrong choice. Know your worth, [L/n]. This won't be the last time for tears and worries, but I am sure you will look up the same to the future."

He turns and pulls out a thin envelope, coated with a stunning velvety purple, a beautiful and formal material. You scramble to your feet, ignoring the reddening bruise on your knees or the dried tears staining your features; Masamichi hands it to you, "I need you to deliver this to Gojo-sensei in the morgue. I want you to understand the depth of this world, [L/n]. You are more involved than you think, and leaving will just destroy you."

You gulp, the morgue.

Still, you take the envelope and cradle it in your palm, hurrying out of the office, crisp air returning to your lung alongside the chirping birds and more. As you sprint down the narrow pathways, skin recoiling at the flecking of blood on your cheeks from how cold it is, a memory of your mother rushes to the brim of your twitching mind.

She's tucking you into bed again, a blanket cosily wrapping you in her warmth. The features of her face are blurred and hard to make out but, they feel familiar and lovely to look at. She presses a kiss onto your forehead, a low whisper filling the air, "You will have to make your own way in this nightmare, [F/n]. All you need is for someone to hold your hand in one, and your heart in another."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Gojo-sensei is back, you think breathlessly, remembering how he had to leave for a trip day or two ago. He had slipped in unannounced for sure, because you weren't even aware. Your knuckles press against the door and a rapping noise is made; a second later, you enter.

The outline of your figure is still shaking from the morning conversation but you make effort to let it go undetected as you step into the room.

The sheen of white along tiled walls and silver cabinets stuffed with cadavers make the room an effortless cold; chills spiral down your spine as you gaze around.

Gojo-sensei was sitting on one of the benches, facing Ijichi-san, who looks ghastly pale as if the events of yesterday took a toll on him.

You remember his words now, they come crawling back to you. If you encounter it, your choices are to run or die.

That's how it is, huh? Because you ran and Itadori didn't and you can tell that the body covered by a thick sheet on the table in the corner is him. You don't even want to look; you can't look. If you look, you accept his death, that the memory of that boy, your friend, is no more than a pile of bones and empty lungs.

Ijichi has his hands folded over each other, head lowered, "I warned them that fighting was absolutely not an option."

Silence. You wonder if they even heard you come in. It's just like back at the Occult Club; do you have a talent for sneaking in undetected? Or maybe... part of your jujutsu involved stealth.

Blinking, you listen carefully.

"It was intentional," Gojo says suddenly. His words stir confusion on Ijichi's face.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Gojo scratches the back of his white hair, "There was a special-grade. Sending first-year to rescue five who may or may not be alive people should be out of the question."

That's true, you purse your lips, wondering who allowed it. Did Principal Masamichi want that? For you to truly understand the nature of this cruel world?

"Besides, with Yuuji," He lowers his hand, "I was the one who forced the issue and got his execution indefinitely suspended. Some higher-ups who didn't like that took advantage of my absence and the special-grade to tactfully dispose of him."

Ijichi covers his mouth with a shaking hand, startled by what Gojo was saying.

"If the other three had also died, it'd be more harassment for me and two birds with one stone for them."

His words make you stumble and your elbow clashes with the metal door painfully. Tactfully...dispose...of...him...

Heads turn and Gojo looks at you. Despite his blindfold, you can read his solemn expression. You can feel his eyes linger on your puffy eyes and dried tears, and your wobbly legs because suddenly the burden on your shoulders is 10x bigger.

"I...Gojo-sensei," You stagger towards him, shakily handing him the envelope and trying to keep your eyes on him and not that body in the corner which yearns to be alive again. "Pri - Principal Masamichi asked me to gi - give this to you."

He takes it gently from your hand, "Thank you, [F/n]." He can tell you had been crying all night; you are an open book, too easy to read.

You turn, starting to walk away but Gojo's lips move quicker than you anticipate.

"Stay," He hums, not looking in your direction, "You shouldn't be alone right now."

So, you stay, with him and Ijichi and Itadori. The truth silently sinks in as you listen to the conversation. As they speak, you fix your eyes on the ground, which as uninteresting as it was with the specks of dust and dirt, was a better sight than the pale corpse beneath sheets.

"No one expected it to become a special-grade by the time the dispatch was issued," Ijichi frantically wavers his hands about.

Gojo sighs, gesturing for you to sit next to him and you do, "Searching for someone to blame is just a pain."

You bite your lip, thinking about all the blame you put on yourself. Years of trauma tightening God's noose around your neck.

"Maybe I should just..." Gojo laments unsteadily and you can see something dark unfolding on his expression, "kill all of the higher ups."

"Wh - What?!" You catch your breath, choking out something after a gasp - you most certainly weren't expecting that.

You don't even know who these higher ups are but judging from the conversation, they warrant caution.

At that moment, the door to the room opens and a woman steps in, cream-coloured heels clicking against the tiled floor. You spin to see her, caught up in her elegance.

"You're not usually this emotional," She notes blankly, hands in her white lab coat, referring to Gojo-sensei.

Ijichi immediately bows, hands by side. "It's good to see you, Ieiri-san!" He greets her loudly and anxiously.

Gojo remains slouched and you fiddle with your fingers nervously, admiring her from a distance. She had a delicate eloquence to the features of her face, which curtail the beauty endowed by a thousand gods. Doleful eyes with a stirring and warming brown were paired with her long and calming hair of the same colour. Beneath her right eye was marked a beauty spot, fragile and beautiful and somehow perfect.

"Looks to me," She says, and her voice reminds you of tulip fields cushioning fairies and honey dripping from a waterfall slowly. "Like you've taken quite a liking to him. And her," She adds, twirling her hair calmly as she looks at you. "Given she is here right now."

"I've always been a nice guy who cares for my students," Gojo remarks.

The woman replies smoothly, like they are old friends, "Don't torment Ijichi too much. He's got it rough, stuck between us and the higher-ups."

You find a small smile making it's way to your lips just watching how love-struck Ijichi has become.

"I don't care about a man's hardships," Gojo rolls his eyes - well, you imagine him to roll his eyes.

Ieiri walks over to the table and pulls off the sheet suddenly, making you writhe uncomfortably. She remains unperturbed, so calm in the wake of death. "So this is Sukuna's vessel, huh? I can take him apart as I please, right?"

Her words make you clench the edge of the bench tightly. The idea of picking apart a corpse? It's already bad that they are dead! You remember your father refusing to let Mother's body be sent to the coroner, the anger on his face invoked fear in you.

"Make sure to get good use out of him," Gojo replies.

You lean over to Gojo, "Sensei," You croak, realising your voice is still hoarse from crying, "Who is she?"

"Shouko Ieiri," He says and the three of you watch as Ieiri moves around and gets things ready.

Suddenly, a thought pierces your head. Don't look inside me without permission... I hate it.

It rattles inside you, tearing you apart from within, and you can feel the world start to blur.

Gojo frowns, holding your shoulders, "[F/n]?"

You look around, starting to see your sight fracture into two. The morgue and a bloody underground, a ribcage defining the walls and ceiling.

"You're being awfully hostile, brat," You blurt and quickly cover your mouth, staring to shake as the vision fold over each other.

Gojo's lips thin, "You're being forced into Sukuna's Innate Domain."

"I can hear...something..." You whimper, listening to Sukuna's voice in your head and feeling his power burn agonisingly in your veins. "Itadori just punched Sukuna!"

Ijichi's eyes widen, "What?"

And then, you see it. We'll fight to the death, and if you win, I'll do it without conditions. If I win, you come back to life under my conditions. Sukuna had said devilishly. And then, very faintly, you had heard Itadori's voice. It was brimming with confidence and his typical, brash recklessness. Sure, I'll beat you to-

And then his head was sliced off. Just like that. Gone. Sukuna's power was infatuating. Was that an odd nightmare occurring in the stir of day? Did your mind want to torment you more than you were already burdened with?

For a split second, total blackness engulfs your vision before you return to reality. The kind of spitting ebony that Thanatos wades through at the Doors of Death.

"You know," Gojo says suddenly, "I have a bad personality."

"I know," Ijichi remarks.

Gojo points his finger, "Ijichi, expect a hard forehead flick later."

If Gojo was trying to cheer you up, especially after the longevity of this despairing day, it had certainly worked. You stifle a light laugh at his antics.

"Being a teacher isn't my style," Gojo folds his arms and crosses his legs over, "Do you know why I decided to teach at this school?"

No one says anything.

"Ask me!" He wails.

You purse your lips, "Why did you?"

"Because I have a dream," He replies, "As you can see in this case with Yuuji, the top of the jujutsu world is a den of vice. Conservative fools. Traditional fools. Arrogant fools."

"Just plain fools," You add, thinking about the world right now.

"Yup," Gojo nods, "It's a bargain sale on rotten mikan. I want to reset that garbage jujutsu world."

He puts his hands in a steeple, swooning in meticulous thought, "Murdering everyone at the top would be an easy task. But they would just get replaced. It wouldn't bring a revolution. And if I did that, no one would follow me."

I'd follow you, you chirp. He's put a lot of thought into this which surprises you.

Gojo was made up of so many secrets that maybe he was never real at all.

"That's why I chose education," He says dreamily, "To raise up strong, clever comrades. That's why I occasionally tossed my missions to my students. It's tough love."

You stifle a laugh, are you sure you don't just want to slack off?

"You're talented, [F/n]," He turns to look at you, "You and Yuuji could become jujutsu sorcerers on par with me."