I WAS ONCE A MAN WITH DIGNITY AND GRACE

NOW I'M SLIPPIN' THROUGH THE CRACKS OF YOUR COLD EMBRACE

let me down slowly,

Gojo Satoru was undoubtedly the most mysterious person you had ever encountered. Shrouded by a thick veil of the unknown, it felt like he was a moment's touch away yet eternally distant at a glance. It feels like your eyes play tricks on you whenever you are in his presence; your heart is being carved out to hollow the old instincts and give rise to the deities.

His arrival traps your head in a tornado, leaves it spinning at the panging luminous light that blinds you from the sheer velocity of his actions. It happens as quickly as it stops. All you feel in that ear-splitting moment is the hood of one of your many loosely comfortable hoodies being tugged at your hand and suddenly world blurs.

One moment you're watching the saddest scene in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, listening faintly to the snores of your doting cursed doll, who hasn't punched you in the last two hours. And the next? Gojo-sensei's words make your head turn.

"We're heading out on an extra-curricular lesson," He smiles as he looks at you and Itadori. Neither of you have relented yet in your progress, and he seems pleased. "I'm going to teach you about the pinnacle of jujutsu battles, Domain Expansion."

You furrow your eyebrows, "Wha? Sensei?! Where are we going?!"

"Gomen!" He smiles again. You don't know how to feel about that smile anymore; it reminds you of a crowing god and you are just a speck of dirt too poor and meaningless to feel special anymore.

"What the fuck?!" You exhale, letting the curses fly unguarded out of your dry lips. The colours that unfold across your vision tell you that Gojo-sensei has dragged the two of you outside by the mountains at Jujutsu Tech.

It is grizzled and chalky, like the white-gloss high walls of your mother's hallways where you can still hear your childhood screaming but it doesn't sound happy.

Itadori's struggling clears that clutter burdening your mind in that moment, but only for a split-second; after that, the swell of anxiety that typically peruses your heart returns with a mighty soul.

"Hey, where are we?!" The fellow teenager makes a pouty face and his expression would be humourous were it not for the fact that you, him and Gojo-sensei were hovering an inch over the lake.

Your stomach drops with a gut-wrenching feeling you only ever experience when back in school. Oh how red did your face turn in class when the teacher picked on you and suddenly sixteen years of literacy flies out of your mouth into stutters before you can even think.

You press your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmingly sick. The wave of fear and surprise drenching you feels like it is pulling your heart only to nimbly and painfully stitch it back into the gaping wound. This kind of fear was natural, of course, but it would only steadily deter you from every other thing in the world.

Almost like your fear would leave you detached and reeling in lonesome, a lonely desire pocketed by your loveless past.

Your eyelids flutter as you listen to the water, hues of [eye colour] settling on the crystalline lake which was composed of this ultimately perishable endless stillness. The vastness of the universe is riveted by the undisturbed surface of the lake you were literal centimetres away from being dropped in.

Flailing, arms and limbs hurry to scramble away but Gojo remains comparatively calm. "Were you waiting?" He asks; his tone is riddled with nonchalance you cast your gaze in the same direction he is facing.

It was not in the Atlas-hung skies or the jagged peaks of the nearby mountains. It was on a cursed spirit standing bleakly in the middle of the lake.

Surprisingly, a wave of relief engulfs you, because given this creature's short stature, the lake must be extraordinarily shallow. Such observations relieve you of the irrational fear of drowning.

"They're..." The cursed spirit croaks hoarsely, making your eyes widen in surprise at it's communication skills. "Sukuna's vessel?! A descendant of the [L/n] clan?!"

Your eyes rove over this creature, stomaching the disgust and fear tangled in you just from being in it's presence. As you settle on that singular blinking eye, volcanic crown and bitter navy teeth, you remind yourself that not only is Gojo-sensei here but...

I am not helpless anymore, thoughts pour into your head. I am my own person with my own strength.

So, if this culminates in a fight then so be it. You will drag this cursed spirit to death as if it a lit cigarette spindled at the mercy of your cradling fingers.

"This is Itadori Yuuji-kun," Gojo gestures to Itadori, who wears an adorably confused expression on his dazed features. He then gestures to you, "And this is [L/n] [F/n]-kun. I brought them both to watch."

To watch, you think with an arched eyebrow. Did this cursed spirit make an attempt on Gojo-sensei's life? From the looks of it, it seemed like a special-grade, although his more tepid, ashy features dimmed the petrified reaction one ought to receive.

"Sensei, his head looks like Mt. Fuji," You struggle to stifle a laugh. Your comment leaves Itadori in hysterics and he proceeds to point at him in equal fear and laughter.

Gojo finally relents and drops you and Itadori but to your surprise, you don't crash through the surface of the water as if breaking a bubble. Instead, you press the soles of your sneakers onto the lake and listen to the pitter-patter of dark and stormy skies.

There is something fierce and terrible within you, eligible to burst forth yet you do not dare tell it with words. Instead, you look down at the surface on which you stood, gazing at your own reflection, who holds you with unattainable mercy.

Water has a melancholic and soft soul, unwavering is pursuits of blue. It sings and kisses as you wonder about the infinity that cradled you in the space between you and it.

Itadori runs around in a circle, "Why aren't we sinking?!"

You turn, confusion sprawled all over your face. "Sensei, we were at the school just ten seconds ago, right? What's going on?"

"Oh, we warped here," He replies idly. As if that four-lettered sentence is enough to describe the journey.

He has no intention of explaining, you sigh with an irked expression at your teacher's antics.

"What are the brats for?" The cursed spirit scowls. You had almost forgotten he was present given just how silent he was being. You can spot light and dark bruises splashed all over his moonlight-coloured skin - Gojo-sensei must have attacked back. "A shield?"

"Shields?" Gojo-sensei's lips curl fruitfully, "No, no. I told you, they're here to watch."

A shield, you narrow your eyes, struggling to infer from that. If you were a shield... then this cursed spirit was trying to kill Gojo-sensei... and maybe... he wants you and Itadori as well but not to kill...for something else.

"I'm in the middle of teaching these two lots of things," He beams, "Don't worry about them. Just keep fighting."

A large smile unfolds on the thin-lipped spirit, arms hanging by it's side with a slouched yet somewhat arrogant demeanour. It gives the sense you are watching a spirit who was shrouded by potential yet lacked the humility to achieve it.

"Bringing in people who will slow you down just makes you a fool," He grins maliciously.

His threats and insults are no more than small rocks on the side of a long, winding road. Gojo-sensei laughs; it's a degrading kind of laugh, something you equally expect and don't expect of him. "I'll be fine! Besides... you're weak."

Hearing that makes you surprised. Weak. A term spun in the web of your thoughts to the point where the word lost it's original meaning and become something devouring.

His remark earns the response you expect from the cursed spirit; it's ego is damaged. Streams of hot lava erupt from head, dripping with colourful hearth. You watch on, starting to become less and less scared. Maybe you really can do it. Become someone strong.

Because this cursed spirit reminds you of goading bullies and arrogant misers hunting for fool's gold without realising it is their own. He is somehow weak in your eyes, all over again. He is reminiscent of an old, swollen piece of fruit about to split open with wet rot.

"Don't underestimate me, brat!" He roars, voice carrying emotion. "I'm going to enjoy swallowing that smug face of yours!"

A wave of hot air steams over the lake and energy pulses in waves over you. This guy is weak, you think. And even though he seemed more monstrous than any other monster you had ever encountered, you have to remind yourself that he is weak.

You feel Gojo patting your head, "You'll be fine," He says with that typical slick grin, almost like a promise. "Just stay close to me, the two of you."

"Domain Expansion!" The cursed spirit yells out and almost instantly, ebony infects the surroundings and dome of black shrouds hou. You do as Gojo-sensei says and feel your flailing arms brush his pocketed elbows in panic.

The ground rumbles and cracks, lava appearing from every crevice, almost like it is slipping through the cracks. The heat makes your skin itchy and red but you try to remain calm, knowing that this had to be what Gojo-sensei was going to teach you about.

"Wh - What is this?!" Itadori swivels around, half-terrified.

You exhale shakily, tugging on Gojo's black uniform, "This is Domain Expansion, right?"

Gojo nods; it entrances you how calm he remains, especially since you are now watching Itadori scream as he flecks away some bits of lava. "You use cursed energy to construct an Innate Domain imbued with a cursed technique in your surroundings."

As he speaks, you pat down Itadori's hoodie with a small smile, listening to him wail "Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!"

"What you all experienced at the juvenile detention centre was an incomplete Domain that hadn't been imbued with any curser techniques. If that had been a proper Domain, all of you first-years would have died."

Amazing, you gulp, thinking about back then. Maybe, Fushiguro understood that... He was the one who knew that we couldn't fight.

"Spreading out a Domain consumes a ton of energy but the merits are worth the cost," Gojo-sensei explains, "One such benefit is the boost to stats due to environmental factors."

You listen patiently, somehow riveted and paying attention to your teacher's words more than you ever did back in school. "Mmm, like buffs in video games!" And Itadori nods, eyes widened like a happy child at your analogy.

"Another one is..." He says and suddenly you turn, realising you had been so engulfed in his lesson that you didn't realise that a rock had been thrown at you. It is inches from your face but it crumples. "... that the techniques imbued in the Domain are guaranteed to hit within the domain," Gojo explains, steam drying off his shoulder.

"Guaranteed?!" Your voice goes up by an octave or two.

"Guaranteed," Gojo mimicks you, "But don't worry. There are several ways to deal with it. You can take the hit using a cursed technique, like just now, or ... I don't really reccomend this one but you can go outside the Domain. That's usually impossible."

The cursed spirit seems more displeased than ever and it's lack of actions have fully dissipated any initial fears you held towards it. "If I neutralise that Infinity of yours with a dense Domain, then my techniques will reach you."

"Yeah," Gojo shrugs, "They'll hit."

He raises his hand, ruffling your hair as if to make sure you are still paying attention, "The most effective way to deal with a Domain is to lay out your own Domain."

And then, to your surprise, you watch as his hands reach for his blindfold. "When two Domains are laid out at the same time, the more refined one will dominate that space."

Slowly, the material slips as if he is teasing his students, who have no clue truly how much power he holds as a shaman. "Though, sometimes, compatibility and the amount of cursed energy are factors."

"I won't even let there be any ashes left of you, Gojo Satoru!" The spirit screams, making everything in his domain fly up into the air and storm towards the three of you instantly.

But in that moment, you didn't need to be scared. The only thing you felt... was tranquility. Your anxiety was removed blissfully by the nimble fingers of a devote angel.

"Domain Expansion: Infinite Void," You hear Gojo-sensei's words behind you. You wonder if you should turn around and look at him, but your eyes are fixed on the impending wave of mass destruction paralysed in the gaunt air before you.

In that moment, the world truly falls away. It reminds you of when the angels came after Mother died, tucking you into sleep. The angels came too late, feathers crawling with mite and eyes as flat as snakes. The scent of nostalgia lingered in their skin. You were promised altars and arks, but you were not surprised as a child when their throats are torn open, revealed to be hollow.

This is different. The ascending light is something else when it graces your skin. There is fear. There is sorrow. There is a mess of sins and hosts of terror eating at your soul. It tells you that you are always dreaming, even if you are awake; it is never finished.

The world smelled like roses and the blinding luminosity felt like powdered gold sprinkling tightly over swathes of alabaster clouds. Spinning white and eternal grace and suddenly the sounds of nature are intrusive. Your mind is pickled and rotting away at this ethereal plane, constantly changing and trapped by the beauty of Infinity.

You thought you couldn't see or feel anything, as if god was buried six feet beneath and crawled out from the grave to dig his nails in your ochre skin. But you can feel, you can see...

The information is never complete. Although it is not in the way of a jigsaw puzzle lacking it's respective pieces, empty and absent and a void licked by prodigal man and flames of serpentine tongues. It was like the middle of a whirlpool, being lost yet being found and having every thought you ever thought to hum a lullaby in your head again and again and again.

You feel at peace but your body is at war, like a ghost dragging around shackles. It is limitless but you are limited; it strikes you heavy like a hammer over your head. It is not Gojo's effortless ability that qualms and inhibits you any more. For you don't feel like you have been webbed into his world like the others.

Instead, it shocks you.

Because... instinct tells you that you have the power to snap every thread and every silver lining. Instinct is confident and it scares you. Because instinct reminds you a lot of Sukuna and Mother.

"This is the inner world of Limitless," Gojo says and you look at him with a devote carapace, donating every ounce of attention.

He looks different and such an appearance murders you in your mind. The features of not an angel, with that hair as blissfully pure as that, but a god. He was a god. An image of power circles his iris, tendrils of crystalline blue tangled and shimmering. They were not eyes, you had decided. They were the thrones that angels throated, the wings of God's skeletons and the secretive gaze into prodigal souls.

It stuns you, all in one moment, like you have been shot. A wound that stitches itself back together only to rip apart again at such poignant agony. You remain silent, lips glued together much like Itadori's.

"Perception, communication..." Gojo drawls and it's Gojo-sensei's voice but you find your eyes betray you with most things. "Every action involved in living is forcibly carried out an infinite number of times."

He grabs the cursed spirit by the head, almost enjoying it. "It's ironic, isn't it? When granted everything, you can't do anything but just die peacefully. But I have questions I want to ask you so I'm letting you off the hook with this."

And then, suddenly and violently, yet the horrors dim enough for beauty to arise, he twists the head off the cursed spirit and the area folds in again, piercing white blessing your vision. Your skin can feel the aftermath of such potent power... it hurt like nothing you had ever felt before.

As if emerging elsewhere, you land on the ground, making an oomph sound and look up to see a forest. Itadori helps you to your feet and you cling to him as you watch Gojo's heel dig into the head of the Cursed Spirit, who, rather terrifyingly, was still alive despite his decapitation.

"He really is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer," You whisper in awe and Itadori nods, stunned as well as the powerful nature of your teacher.

"As a living organism," Itadori replies, shock lacing his words, "He's on another level."

Gojo has one hand on his blindfold, which is slightly lifted as if to reveal those stunning sapphires, "You don't seem like the type to act on orders. Was something good supposed to happen if you killed me? Regardless... I want to know. Who was it? Come on, just tell me already!"

From his voice, you have a sneaking suspicion he already knows who ordered such an attack. After all, Gojo-sensei strikes you as a man who keeps his friends close but enemies closer.

"Like I'd ever tell you, brat!" The cursed spirit hisses, unrelenting even on the cusp of death.

"You should you should be saying that?" Gojo-sensei arches an eyebrow, "Hurry up and tell me, or I'll exorcise you. Of course, I'll do that either way."

Itadori frowns, "Wait, curses are capable of holding conversations? It seemed so normal, so I overlooked it."

A response lingers on your tongue but before you open your mouth to reply, an object flies through the air and penetrates the fresh dirt. It explodes violently but not with the normal dust kicking up into the air or traces of ash midst concocted power. Rather, it imbues a burst of flowers across the field, flowers that send you spiralling in awe.

You lean in, delighted by the softness of the petals as it grazes your palm, and there's this simply curiosity, momentarily harmless but when unsatiated, turns deadly, that makes the sakura blossoms fill your hands, soft light pink and they emobdy your internal innocence, but mark the beginning of something new.

You turn, just as your vision is accosted with small cherry blossoms cascading down from thin air, listening to Gojo-sensei and Itadori's ethereal laughs.

Whatever held you in your place was delicate much like a sakura blossom petal, and the emotional connection that wove you together was palpable.

You unfurl your wrist to reveal a single petal; molten in it's pallor, it reveals a thin line that is stretched thin at the mercy of the delicate flower. It is cracked.

While looking at it momentarily, your eyes are drawn to how the beauty of the sakura blossom teeters within despite the broken nature of the petal. Was this a metaphor? An analogy? Since when did the divine laws of nature allow for the unfurling beauty of spring to be thrown into misbalance by the fractured, who's suffering was inextricably linked with your own?