'CAUSE YOU KEEP ME ON A ROPE

AND TIED A NOOSE AROUND MY THROAT

the cut that always bleeds,

You are your own killer. What made you unusual and tragic and alive was decomposing within your own body, skin bloating from the old brag of a heart, a mind hurrying to its demise in an effort to be everything it is not.

Because... you can tell yourself I exist as I am, that is enough, but your very existence moves deities to tears and challenges the precipice of every incoming war. You, yourself are bleeding with every wish you have in that moment.

The blood on your teeth begins to taste like a poem; it is stuck somewhere between dreams at dawn when you watch them from a distance - Fushiguro and Kugisaki. Words are scratched onto the walls of your throat, unheard but it is there.

Sunlight blurs at the edges of your vision, mellow and diluted but still hazily present on that day. It has been almost a week since you last spoke to them, your new-found friends... friends that you could not tell the truth entirely to. The secret eats away at your flesh and it makes you wonder if you would hollow yourself out if they touched you with their pensive gaze.

You're not too sure how to start the conversation, mind stilling much like the bottom of a lake, craters echoing the blankness of your expression. How do you begin to even bother conveying the slightest sense of friendship when all you ever do is spin half-truths. Half-truths and half-lies and real tears and fake words... because Itadori is not dead. He's as alive as anything you would ever want to be alive, flowers in the meadows, the pulsing flames of a sun, the weeping of baby bluebirds high up in make-shift nests.

And you look at Fushiguro and hold your head up high, knowing the Gojo-sensei trusted your spirit enough to know you could handle such a poignant challenge, the tale of a woven liar, to herself and to everyone around her.

The vending machine whirrs when Kugisaki presses on a button titled 'cold' and you stand idly by, hands stuck in the pockets of your black skirt, a solemn expression portrayed on your face. The events of yesterday linger on your mind like morning dew on the lipped leaves of jungle vines, tangible and tethered, hanging with a glimmer.

"Hey guys," You murmur, averting their gaze, taking solace in the patterned floor. Both Fushiguro and Kugisaki are dressed in casual attire, a warm embrace tackling their expressions and comfort seeps through the dark hoodies and lean leggings.

Fushiguro's typically blank features dissipate upon eye contact with you. He lifts his head and the smallest of smiles graces his ivory face, "[L/N]... what took you so long?"

Oh, I was just reeling over the fact I almost died to a guy with a volcano for a head, you muse in the internal web of your thoughts. Of course, none of those words ebb out of your tongue, "I had to deal with a ton of stuff... I couldn't just up and leave my old life behind."

You perk up, however, because you don't want to spin yourself another tale of isolation, letting the cracks on the cliff widen and swallow you whole. "I happened to get a glimpse of Gojo-sensei's... Domain Expansion."

A hint of surprise unearths itself in Fushiguro's dark eyes, "So that's what you've been up to? Gojo-sensei is a good teacher... but don't let him know I said that."

You faintly smirk, shifting your attention to Kugisaki, who picked up her cold drink, "Couldn't they have put in a few more vending machines?"

"They can't," Fushiguro deadpans, turning to face her, "There are only so many workers who can come in here."

You grab a drink from the machine, the coldness of the metal branches out on the fingers that curl around it, "Oh, what are you guys doing for today? I'm tagging along so I can get some training out of the second-years."

"Zenin-senpai sent us to get drinks for everyone," Kugsaki purses her lips, an evidently grumpy expression forms on her face, "My hands can only hold so much! Not to mention, [L/N]-san, you missed out on a lot over the last couple weeks. Panda threw me around and then I threw up on him!"

Biting your lip, you stifle a laugh, "Sorry... I promise to join in on your shared suffering. Are you guys taking part in the exchange event with Kyoto?"

Fushiguro nods, "The third years are not taking part this year so we're filling in. And you?"

You shrug, taking a long, refreshing sip from your soda, "Very unlikely... but Gojo-sensei wants to show off me and - I mean, me - at the Kyoto event," You had almost said Itadori's name there... "I don't even know my Cursed Technique yet so I doubt I can do much except flaunt my ancestry."

"The [L/N] clan are one of, if not the oldest and most powerful clan out there. You probably have relatives still alive but under different names to avoid persecution and there's likely books on that history in the school library," Kugisaki offers, crunching her can after drinking all of it's contents in one gulp.

You sigh, looking off into the distance, "Mm, thanks. I'll have to balance that along with everything else..." Watching movies, fighting Gojo-sensei, training with the second-years, speaking with your father and now this.

The sound of footsteps hangs in the air much like a twisted, rattling tree branch and you turn on your heel to face their source: a young man and woman.

They looked to be perhaps a year or two older than you, but something lurking in their told tales of a much echoed and ancient wisdom. That, coupled with the unfamiliar features of their sharp faces, told you the two of them were likely students from Kyoto.

"What are you doing here, Zenin-senpai?" Fushiguro inquires, making you lift your head in interest.

Kugisaki does the same, "Oh, she's one too?"

Your eyes settle on her figure, lean and elegant, reminding you of a hunting leopard. She has her head ever so slightly tilted, sharp eyes digging into your soul like nails into skin. Calling her cruel would be an understatement.

"They do seem similar," You murmur, looking deeply into her dark eyes, "Are they sisters?"

Fushiguro's lips curl bitterly, "They're twins."

"Don't call me that, Fushiguro-kun," She hums, twirling a lock of her ebony hair. Her voice is silky like it was a piece of fabric being smoothened out, a harmony brought on by the molds of piano notes. But it was also smooth in the way that a jaguar's claw is polished before it's bloodshed, a thinned out merciless wake of casualties. "You make me sound the same as Maki. Call me Mai."

Mai's friend has his head lifted as he was looking down menacingly at the three of you, "So these guys are the pinch-hitters for Okkotsu and the third years?"

You look at him, a troubled expression wavering on your face. A large scar ran down the left side of his face, like the trail left in a swamp when the tall grasslands parted. He was tall and certainly muscular, emulating a level of physical power you could likely never match. And you imagine from that eccentric gloss in those small pupils that this young man was addicted to the thrill of battle. You already bore him from that uninterested gaze he returns to you with.

"We came here with the principal because we were worried about you. Your classmate died, right?" Mai rests his hand beneath her mouth, a smirk crows and widens across her face.

Your classmate died, right? The words funnel through your thoughts and return in distortion, glowing with red as if your memory of all the blood pouring from Itadori's chest came back to haunt you.

"Was it rough? Or did you think nothing of it?"

Did you think nothing of it? Because he isn't dead... he isn't dead... he isn't dead... And you can't pretend he is when thinking about that once was already going to send you into a power struggle with grief.

"Enough!" Fushiguro scowls and he takes your hand - his touch is the warmth you crave to be whole again, "What are you trying to say?"

Mai is still smiling; maybe she never stopped, "It's okay. Some things are hard to say out loud. So I'll say it for you. "Vessel" makes it sound nice, but it just means he was a half-curse monster. Having such a tainted, inhuman being beside you, brazenly calling himself a jujutsu sorcerer must have been revolting, right?"

Your hand is shaking to the point where you have forgotten to breathe at the cliff that overwhelms you. Because your empty burning lungs and your heart hitting your chest so hard you thought it would break my ribs and rip apart that skin were the only things you can think about. And the void. The black hole in your head, deep inside your soul, slowly swallowing all your hopes and dreams. That was the worst of those moments. The realization of the vacuum, the nothingness, the absurd of your existence.

You can tell yourself a million times that you're okay and then someone will come along and shatter it all over again. Again. Again. And Again.

"Aren't you feeling better now that he's dead?"

Your nails dig and dig into the back of Fushiguro's hand but he doesn't care, also affected by Mai's crude and straightforward words. The outline of your small figure trembles as if your head is lost in a tornado all over again, anger piling up onto each other, each one lighting the torches that line the walls of the inner thoughts. It is anger from your mother, your father, yourself, Iguchi and Sasaki, Itadori and more.

Ever so slightly, in the small hut housing the vending machines of the site of Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Tech, your Cursed Energy boils uncontrollably, like chucking all those lessons with Gojo-sensei out of the window. Besides, if Gojo-sensei was here right now, you can imagine how he would react to Mai's callous words.

"Mai, don't bring up such pointless topics," Todou says, stepping forward, "I'm only here to see if these guys are fit to take Okkotsu's place."

You lack a filter on your thoughts and it becomes evident with your tongue's quarrels, "I don't have a clue who Okkotsu is but I will gladly destroy you for what you said about Itadori."

"Then I hope we cross paths at the exchange event," His eyes carry unsettling battle-crazed madness, "Aoi Todou, remember that name. Maybe I'll make you get it tattooed on your forehead after I beat you."

You stifle a laugh, "Once I'm done with you, I doubt you'll have any flesh left to get my name tattooed on."

Todou narrows his eyes, "What's your name again?" He doesn't say it lousily much like others who ask for your name but as if he will remember it forever and then some more.

"[L/N] [F/N]," You reply curtly with a smooth tongue.

He freezes, "I see..."

All you see is the twist of fear, as if he is no longer bored with you. Your name is a double-edged sword, reeling with a plethora of misery reborn from the countless descendants that cling tightly to it. Much like the suave cocoon of a caterpillar rattling on a plant leaf, it sheds the old and human mundanity to it, the normality of hearing your name being called out for the register at school. Now? It was a battle cry, an omen, a curse-bearer and more. It would entail darkness and light, entangled with the depths of sorcery. A name out from eyes of magic & punctured hearts.

Toudou shifts his attention, "Fushiguro, was it?"

What follows that tepid question was another one that he roared, a question that stuns you and everyone else except him and Mai.

"What kind of woman is your type?!"

You, Fushiguro and Kugisaki tilt your heads to the same side, the same doleful and dumb-founded expression painted on all of your faces, "Huh?..."

"Depending on your answer, I'll beat you half to death right here and drag Okkotsu, or at least the third-years, out to the exchange event!" And then, rather suddenly, he rips apart his purple shirt, sending the fabric flying everywhere. "By the way, my type is a tall woman with a big ass!"

This guy... is a himbo, you can't help but think to yourself, actually no... not a himbo... a baseless idiot.

Fushiguro's thin eyebrows narrow, "Why do I have to talk about my taste in women with a guy I just met?"

You nod, "He's right. That's a tall hurdle for an anti-social guy."

A tick appears on your friend's cheek like he's been slapped with your thoughtlessness, "Seriously? This is confusing enough already."

"Kyoto, third-year, Toudou Aoi," Toudou says stoically, "Introduction over. Now we're friends. Hurry up and answer. If you prefer men, that's fine, too."

You bite the inside of your lip, "What does this have to do with anything?!" You ask, attempting to divert the topic to save Fushiguro from personal embarrassment.

Toudou grimaces, "A person's fetishes reflect everything about them. People with boring taste in women are boring people themselves. And I hate boring people."

"Have you ever tried anger management therapy?" You blank, asking idly.

Such a question makes him frankly more annoyed than before, if that was even possible. You were merely riling him up as if he was a ticking time bomb, "I don't need to hear your words right now. The exchange event is where my soul can be free as blood boils and flesh clashes. Who knows what I might do if my last exchange event ends up boring me?"

Kugisaki leans over to you in a whisper, "Hey, aren't the Jujutsu Tech schools four-year schools?"

"I think only the third-years and under can join the exchange event," You shrug in response, eyes lingering on the two individuals before you.

"As a show of kindness, I'll let you off only half-dead right now," Toudou says calmly, "Answer me, Fushiguro."

The awkwardness fleeting the air was becoming thick as you writhed uncomfortably in the middle of this tense situation. It was such an odd question, the kind that threw people off.

"Is this some kind of comedy routine?" Fushiguro inquires, eyebrows arched in confusion as he readied himself against Toudou in an impending battle.

Kugisaki diverts some of the attention with her question, "Is that your summer uniform?" She asks, eyes laying on Mai who donned a long and elegant black dress that sleekly fit her figure. It made her powerful and beautiful, a force to be reckoned with. "Ticks me off, but it's nice."

Knowing Fushiguro, he would aim to avoid confrontation, especially since Kugisaki didn't even have her hammer and nails with her. You are unarmed as well, not that you use a weapon anyway. But still, Fushiguro wasn't aware of your secret training and how greatly you had improved over the last few days.

And you are correct, which surprises you since maybe you have grown to understand Fushiguro in the short but meaningful time you have known him. Patiently, you heed to his every word, hanging on by a thread, "I don't have a particular preference. As long as she has unshakable character, I won't ask for more."

Such an answer makes your heart waver, especially since you think about Itadori's blatant 'I'm into girls like Jennifer Lawrence!' proclamation.

"Not a bad answer," Kugisaki lifts her finger, If you had said something like "big boobs", [L/N] and I would have killed you."

You stifle a laugh at her antics, listening to Fushiguro embarrassingly murmur something along the lines of 'Shut up.'

It seemed like whatever playful atmosphere the situation descended into was only momentary, because you look up and see Toudou is crying.

A tick forms on your forehead because you know the reason behind that action is something pathetic, you can already feel it. Tears swell on the corners of his eyes and fall gracefully down his ivory cheeks, much like the elysian waterfalls heavens cascade over.

"I knew it," He mutters, with sadness too; you are growing to hate it because it feels like he defiles the action of crying and being sad with such ugly reasoning, "You're boring, Fushiguro."

"That's it!" You yell, anger seeping through your tone but before you can even make a move, Toudou sprints towards a startled Fushiguro and sends him flying out into the courtyard.

You spin on your heel, gasping, "Fushiguro!" Your legs move without warning, terror creeping up your spine when you listen to the sound of his body crash against the cobbled floor. Instead, you are paralysed when Mai's arms envelop you and Kugisaki.

"Poor Fushiguro-kun," She sighs, but it was a sigh lacking empathy, devoid of all emotion except this curtailing sweetness to her tone. "Even a talented second-grade jujutsu sorcerer is nothing more than a first-year against the top-grade Toudou-senpai. I'll have to comfort him later."

"Names don't mean anything," You say bitterly in response, "Your idiot friend is just looking for a fight so he can give it meaning."

Kugisaki also remains unfazed by the sharpness and crudeness of Mai's terrifying personality, "I thought you and your sister were similar, but that's not the case at all. Maki-san's a hundred times prettier."

Her stark insult makes your lips fly up in a small smile, and you almost want to laugh when you hear the words following it, "Are you not sleeping enough? You've got open pores."

An expression flitting between angry and annoyed sits on Mai's face, "I'll teach you two..." And she pulls out a gun suddenly from her dress; the sound of it locking and loading into action fills the thick tense air. "How to speak to others."

It's two against one, it's two against one, it's two against one, you try to calmly tell yourself but everything moves faster than you anticipated it to.

Kugisaki attempts to throw a punch but you hear the gun going off and she gets sent flying to the ground, battered and her clothes are torn around the edges. In the distance, you can hear wooden pillars cracking and giving way to dust as they are destroyed in whatever decimating battle was going on between Fushiguro and Toudou.

You inhale, stopping your shaking. Since your first encounter with curses back at high school, you have grown. You are no longer the old you, only the premise of what can be, a vessel for potential.

A thin-lipped smile widens on Mai's face, "[L/N] [F/N]. So you must be a descendant of that clan. Yet... you were so troubled by my words about that dead boy."

"You don't even know Itadori! I was just like him..." You spit in response, disgusted with how poorly people could speak about the dead.

Mai grabs you by the throat, "You... are nothing like him. Where's your power, hm? Aren't you a jujutsu sorcerer in training?"

You kick her leg, watching it buckle from the throbbing pain in her knee, "I don't need to prove myself to you! Hell, I don't even want to fight you!"

Just as you expect her to, in light of her persevering, callous personality, she remains her battle stance and holds up her gun with a steady grip, "Such a shame because I would love to test out my ability on someone like you. A first year... with the reputed power levels of some higher ups. I hope you are actually a shaman and not some human freak pretending to be one."

"Who cares?!" You mutter exasperated, "Who cares about shamans and non-shamans and whatever?! You are literally using a weapon used by humans!"

And said weapon fires a bullet upon your words leaving your lips. The bullet appears slow and focused in your wide vision, air tightening around it as it spirals towards you. But, perhaps training is actually viable because the old you would have been dead by now.

The new you is still fighting.