I love how I can't write fight scenes but JJK is an action-orientated anime.

LONG AFLOAT ON SHIPLESS OCEANS

I DID ALL MY BEST TO SMILE

song to the siren,

Nobara's arms are slung lazily around your shoulder as you rest with her in the shade under the beech trees. Her expression when asleep is so angelic that it surprises you. The fierce flames bottled up in her raging eyes fall away gently, replaced by a rather melancholic fluttering of her eyelashes. Even her lips, ones that often twist into a sharp, cutting and loose smile, have softened into something neutral. Her body is dotted with bruises and you feel foolish for leaving behind the first-aid kit at the main camp. The most you can do is keep her slumbering away in the shade but when you hear her groan, you realise even that isn't enough.

She'd been retired from the event alongside Mai, who was resting a couple feet away from the two of you. You brush some hairs out of Nobara's face, careful not to wake her up, and yet, she still does.

"I have a splitting headache," She scowls, her palm flying up to her forehead as she shakes her head, back against the rough bark of the large tree. "How long has it been?"

You pause to think, eventually shrugging, "Twenty minutes, I think? I didn't bring my phone with me but I was trying to keep track."

"This is the second time I've been knocked out!" The edges of Nobara's mouth curl with frustration. She pouts, exhaling as she sits up, "Am I retired?"

"Well, you certainly need Ieiri-san to check your injuries," You point to the bruises running along her arms. "It's okay! I'm sure Fushiguro and Itadori will avenge you."

Nobara turns, eyebrow quirking, "And not you? I don't need a man to avenge me, [L/n]. Come on! Avenge me!"

"How? I thought Maki already defeated Mai," You help Nobara to her feet, letting her continue to keep her arm around your shoulder for support.

Her leg bucks in a stumble but she continues, "Miwa Kasumi. She's still out there, right? This is your chance to prove yourself!" Nobara playfully elbows you, "You haven't done anything yet except act as my crutch."

Your lips purse, "I mean... you're not wrong."

The idea makes you a little nauseous. You know that you prepared for this, that you want this, but the unfamiliarity of everything is slowly getting to you. Just the thought of facing this Miwa Kasumi makes all the air in your chest be squeezed out as if you're in God's fist.

Nobara can see the flicker of panic dancing in your eyes, a spark that will never be unlit nor let go, just burning away until it kills all the oxygen in the room.

"Why do you think you're weak?" She says suddenly. It's the voice, that tone she has that reminds you of a strict teacher. The same tone from back in Harajuku when you first met her, when her syllables could cut you apart.

Her question disrupts the tornado of anxious thoughts in your head. You stop moving, finding your legs growing shaky.

"Sorry... what?" You want to melt into a puddle, just evaporate from this earth.

Nobara's eyes narrow, "Why do you think you're weak? Don't avoid it, [L/n]-san."

Why do you think you're weak?

That question corrodes your bones, burying itself deeper and deeper into your marrow, a twisted nestling of a parasite that thaws your shame and lets it glimmer in the spotlight. Being weak is something that weighs on you, like the chains that Marley carries for all of eternity, shackled to events of the past as you were. The past is everything, it's what became of you. It's where the old you died with your mother.

You cower in her shadow, not knowing the gold of her heart but wanting her to look your way again. Even if she was bitter in the throat and mind, she was not weak, not in your eyes anyway. And if you could never be your mother, how could you possibly be strong?

Everything you do tells of a fragile girl. One tiny push and you're falling, falling and falling. Arms flailing and fractured smiles biting back the thought of your crushed body on the ground but it never happens. You, the girl who bleeds too quick, is suspended in the web of someone else. Skin that begs to rot, drenched in the evil of your mother, pleads with her to let you live.

"I'm weak... because I am," You exhale calmly, words loose on your tongue after surviving the next hit of the hurricane that was your anxiety. "I'm not strong. I don't see myself as strong. Wanting to be strong and becoming strong are two separate concepts, two things I can't both have. So, I'm stuck like this. I want to be strong, but I'm not strong, so that makes me weak."

It's not entirely the truth but you can't call it a lie either.

Nobara sees this too but she's just glad you didn't dodge the question for the second time otherwise she'd swat the back of your head, even if she was injured.

"You're not weak, [L/n]," Nobara's words drive your thoughts to a standstill, "And even if you are, you won't be weak forever."

Your lips curl out into a fragile smile, "Thank you, Kugisaki-san."

"Call me Nobara," She juts her thumb with a smirk.

You laugh a little, "Then call me [F/n]."

"So..." You look out, arriving at the edge of the dirt road, "Which way is Miwa?"

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Miwa Kasumi sees you coming from a mile away, which ruins any chance of a surprise attack, something you were keen to test out. Your eyes dwell on her figure as you draw closer.

Her hair is a wonderful light blue; it reminds you strangely of coral. It's a blue that dissolves all other imagery of colour, a ruination that does not turn out imperfect as expected. Her hair alone lulls you into a false sense of security, making your heart feel at peace again.

"[L/n F/n]?" She tilts her head. Even her voice is soothing. Everything about her screams kind-hearted. She lacks the jaded mind you presumed all students of Kyoto to have. "Ohhhh, I'm a big fan!"

You blink, "I - Big fan? You're Miwa Kasumi, right?"

Miwa's grip on her sword tightens; your eyes briefly look at the veins on her hands but then return to her gentle features. "Yes, yes! I'm a fan of famous sorcerers. Your clan is legendary."

Was legendary, you want to correct her, but you don't. Instead, you steady the flow of cursed energy in your body. She could easily be distracting you. You know that your reactions in the initial stages of a fight are typically slow; Maki always berates you on it. In the later stages of battle, your body picks up momentum in tandem with your cursed energy.

"Miwa," Your jaw is clenched; you chew out some words, "I don't want to lose."

Miwa blinks, but then her expression hardens, "Nor do I."

"Why?" You ask, tilting your head. "Whenever I see or hear about you, you don't act like it." You act like me. You are me. And I'm you.

Miwa does something you did not expect her to do. She softens the grip on the hilt of her sword, an indication she wanted to talk. Maybe she saw it too, like Nobara did - the guilt and built-up of sadness lurking inside you because you wear your heart on the sleeve and get hurt all too often.

"I fear that my weakness causes people to get hurt because they are trying to protect me," She admits, "Oh, I don't know why I'm telling you this! Useless Miwa! Useless Miwa!"

You crack a smile, something rare and genuine. It is fleeting on your lips but you remember the happiness it brings you. "It's okay, Miwa. I'm just trying to understand you. I fear that I'll never live up to my mother, even if she isn't the person I make her out to be."

"Really?" Miwa asks, "Well, may the best sorcerer win!"

She unsheathes her sword, " Simple Domai- Oh, sorry, let me take this! It might be important."

The ringing of her phone disrupts her barrier technique, letting the quick flash of blue become eviscerated in the air. You snort, finding it rather funny. Although, the impulsive part of you was starting to get impatient; you really wanted to fight now, especially after talking to Miwa. You felt as if you could look in the mirror and she would be there.

"Hello, Useless Miwa here," She begins absent-mindedly, as if referring to herself like that was something ordinary.

If Nobara was here, she'd kick our asses for being like this, you think, feet aching from standing too long.

Miwa's eyes widen, navy-blue engulfs the sclera before the lids pull them back and she sways, falling to the ground.

What?

You hurry over, finding a pulse on her wrist and neck. It seems she had fallen asleep. You fumble when you pick up her phone, the call having not ended.

"Hello?"

"Kelp,"

"Oh my god, Inumaki-san, it's you? Did you make her go to sleep?"

"Salmon,"

You know he uses Salmon for affirmation so you take his bluntness as a yes, "Where are you?"

"Mustard leaf," He responds, making you sigh as you look down at Miwa curled up on the dirt floor in a deep slumber.

"You know what... I'll let you come to me. I'm on the dirt road next to Miwa."

"Salmon."

When you hang up, you kick the ground in frustration before dragging Miwa's body to the rest snugly in the roots of a large tree. Why can't things ever go my way?

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You did not like dogs once. Black fangs and nightmare fur. The barks of madness and the very fear of attack seemed tattooed onto you. You felt their teeth piercing your skin just by looking at them, like their paws would dig out your stomach and eat out your liver like Prometheus. It was insanity by force, something driven deep inside the bane of your heart by your mother.

But now, as you pet Fushiguro's Demon Dog, your heart finally feels at ease. It arrived no less than five minutes after the call from Inumaki, which made you assume it was sent from him, especially since you thought Fushiguro was fighting Noritoshi.

The dog pants, a pink tongue flailing about as you ruffle it's hair, it's paws making light pitter-patter sounds and it treks deeper into the forest. You follow, enjoying the shaded sky, masked by a devouring green that feels suffocating in a way. But it also blankets you, like those weighted blankets that paramedics put over the shoulders of trembling kids in the backs of ambulances.

Inumaki comes into view, brown eyes softening with relief when he sees you, "Kelp. Bonito flakes?"

"Hey, Inumaki-san, good to see you're not retired like the others. Uh, I'm fine. I haven't really done anything. I was going to fight Miwa but I ended up having to put her beneath a tree so she wouldn't get sunburn."

Inumaki's eyes fall still. He unzips his dark collar and something calm and sincere comes out, "Gomen."

Your eyes widen, briefly caught up in the moment, but you quickly shake it off, "Oh, thank you." You fidget with your fingers, wondering what to do.

Inumaki sends off the Demon Dog; it fizzles and disappears, maybe returning to Fushiguro. You watch it go, drifting away like smoke from a dead candle. He then turns, walking off north, murmuring "Salmon roe," as if to say, "Follow me."

You do so, but then, the two of you stop in your tracks.

Cursed energy. An overpowering stench of cursed energy, something so paralysing you want to forfeit your soul. The crevice of your skull shakes with anguish; it's like that night at the Eishuu Juvenile Detention Center.

You turn, breaths a little more unsteady, eyes darting about in the woods. Your legs are fixed in one position, calves aching from the intensity but your gaze is loose and vivid. Your vision collides with the extremity of the fear, of the uncertainty, of the unknown. Tree trunks stare back at you, unclear and blurred like fog collecting on a window.

And then, the leaves rustle. Your senses heighten.

The battle. The battle. The battle. You chant, as if wanting it to be a premonition. As if saying it over and over again in your fragile mind would do anything but kill you slowly.

The cursed spirit finally emerges after a minute's worth of a standoff. It's head pokes out from behind a tall tree, the tongue a putrescent purple, slimy and horrifying. Then it's eyes swivel when you and Inumaki watch.

It shakes, frothing about. And finally, it rolls onto the ground.

Your eyes widen, trembling as you threaten to spill out screams and tears. You can't look at Inumaki but you imagine him to be the same.

It's... dead?

Emerging from behind the same tree trunk, is a creature that unearths and stirs a memory. It was that Cursed Spirit from the mountains, the one that rescued the Volcano Head as you and Itadori dubbed it.

Your fists clench hard enough that your nails draw blood, " Mirror Manipulation."

The battle, your mind screams, desperate to appease your mother. But the battle is not now, not when it's two students against a Special Grade Cursed Spirit.

So, you put your hands out, urging a shield to appear, letting the flow of cursed energy dictate the protective points.

And then you take Inumaki's hand, and you run.

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Everything's one big blur. Nothing coherent comes through your thoughts, as if you abandoned everything and just ran, which in hindsight, you did do.

You've run so much that your throat is scratchy and sore, like a drought growing ravenously inside it. Inumaki doesn't relent, not like you. While you stumble and slow down, he picks up the pace as the two of you circle an old castle, having been given precious time by the shield.

Fushiguro and Noritoshi have joined you now. The four of you stand in the courtyard, exit blocked by a tangled mess of vines and flowers, too thick and potent to cut through entirely. Besides, even as you burn the edges of the leaves with cursed energy, it continues to regenerate.

"Inumaki-senpai, [F/n]," Fushiguro's legs almost buckle; his stamina must be at an all-time low.

You're relieved to see him. You need another familiar face if you want to survive this.

The cursed spirit stands menacingly at a distance away, prompting Noritoshi to squint, "Why is there a cursed spirit at Jujutsu High? Who does this veil belong to?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, "I've kind of fought this cursed spirit before. Well, I say kind of but like... it just threw me and Itadori around as a distraction."

"You've seen this cursed spirit before?" Noritoshi quirks an eyebrow, "It's definitely a special-grade."

"It can speak," You inhale, steadying yourself the more you look at it, "It's an unregistered special-grade. It's technique is to do with nature."

"But that doesn't explain why it's here," Fushiguro murmurs, "Even Gojo-sensei wouldn't do something like this - sending a special-grade as part of the Exchange Event."

You unclench your fists, sorely rubbing your palms' bruises over with your thumb, "It's here for Gojo-sensei. This about him. It attacked him before with Volcano Head and Gojo-sensei suspects it is working with a human."

"Tuna mayo," Inumaki says, making a gesture which you realise is a phone.

Fushiguro nods, "You're right. Let's contact Gojo-sensei."

The phone rings as he holds it up to his ear, "Our opponent might use a domain, so we need to maintain our distance and retreat to Gojo-sensei-"

It happens so quickly that you swear your heart almost explodes. The cursed spirit moved forward at such a speed that you couldn't tell what was happening until it was too late. It had flicked Fushiguro's phone to the ground. (Say goodbye to his data plan.)

"" Inumaki roars. His voice echoes like a breathless siren at sea, syllables tripping as they carry far and wide across air like a drunk crossing the street.

You can tell it has an effect; the outline of the cursed spirit turns a fiery red, glossing over it's movements and fixing it to one place. But you have no idea how long that might last, so you act on instinct.

While Noritoshi enacts some sort of blood technique, you stretch out the cursed energy into shields on your forearms to bear attacks. And as you summon enough might to conjure your cursed technique, Noritoshi sends a circle of Slicing Exorcism straight at the cursed spirit's head.

It does nothing.

Not even a droplet of blood comes off it's face. There's no damage. As if the attack never even happened.

Fushiguro takes his turn, sending one of his Shikigami to electrify it from above while he takes a jab at it with his blade.

It cuts the spirit's clothing, which is better than nothing.

He scowls, "Damn, it's tough."

You don't even know where Fushiguro got that sword from. Your own one comes from Miwa. I mean, she was asleep so it wasn't like she was going to use it anyway.

Your attack is more or less a frenzy at the beginning. Given your cursed technique is entirely defense-based, you had to start from scratch when it came to acting on the offensive. One way of doing that was cutting down the area of your shields and turning them into short-range blitz attacks.

While you know that your exhaustion extends far further than the loud breaths and aching limbs, you can't just sit by and waste away. A sword eventually rusts and turns brittle without care.

You lunge forwards, launching into the sky to make the attack more impactful and the attacks come naturally. The cursed energy feels like an extension of yourself; it's flow eradicates all fears as you dive in and make the kill.

The cursed energy sharpens at the last minute, cutting away at the clothing but also eating away at your stamina. When you're done, you quickly land back next to Fushiguro, gasping for breath.

Droplets of blood prick away along it's pale skin, but not enough to cause any haemorrhaging or visible damage.

Your vision fizzles like a crackling television, distorted and jumbled words untangling themselves in the mess of your mind only to fix out like a straight line, too sharp and thin.

You find your hand going to your head, clutching at your skull as you rock with the splitting headache. What is this? I can't tell what it's saying by the sound, but I can understand it's meaning?

The voice grows in power; the cursed spirit puts it's hand to it's left shoulder where a white cloth hugged it as if acting like a bag.

You can understand why it would say that - from what you've seen, this cursed spirit could beat out Mother Nature. Noritoshi? Not so much. "It's a curse spouting nonsense! Don't listen!"

"This on a whole new and different level than lower-grade cursed spirits," You sulk with this reality, trying to determine a way to land an impactful on the creature.

It continues,

You tilt your head, is it a Cursed Spirit made from the cursed energy of nature, not humans? No, no. It must be a Cursed Spirit made from humans' attitudes towards the environment. That's why it cares so much.