Isamu's head was pounding as he sat down in the relatively comfortable chair of Shoko's semi-temporary hospital tent. It was large with an aisle running down its center with two rows of dozens of curtained-off "rooms" for the doctors and many patients to rest in and receive treatment.
Isamu had ditched his own in favor of another. He looked towards its only other occupant. His eyes were filled with a small spark that had been sorely needed. His eyes were black, empty without the presence of the one in front of him.
When Isamu had seen Maki be torn apart, he was filled with all kinds of emotions. Anger, hate, sadness, loss, grief, everything you would expect in the moment. But as soon as those emotions came, they'd fled.
He'd landed a black flash and had awakened to the true essence of cursed energy after unlocking reverse cursed technique. He'd been unable to feel any emotion besides giddiness and bliss. He'd forgotten Maki like she was just another casualty he was "fighting for."
But that wasn't true, not really. In that moment, he wasn't fighting for anyone. Not Maki or Megumi or jujutsu society or even the thousands of civilians of Shibuya. He had been fighting for himself, for his own selfish reasons. Hell, he'd dropped a meteor on the place without a second thought. With a smile on his face!
He did not doubt that he'd killed many with that reckless attack. Sure, it would've killed people regardless but he still escalated the power and destructive capabilities of it. He hated that part of himself, the carefree murder that only fought for the sake of it. That loved the feeling of his fists drenched in blood, whether it be his own or someone else's.
But at the same time, he couldn't deny the results. Without… that… he wouldn't be able to do anything he'd done. He wouldn't have been able to figure out a domain expansion mid-battle, no maximum or spur-of-the-moment fighting style either.
Without it, he would be weak, unable to protect those around him. But with it, he could kill those same people with his recklessness, his selflessness.
Isamu clutched his temple as his head began to pound all the more. His racing thoughts no doubt exacerbate the issue. He let out a sigh as he scurried closer to Maki, his thoughts shifting to more positive news.
'She will be alright.' Those were the best words he could've heard that night. Megumi's quick treatment followed by Shoko's more advanced treatment would lead to a full recovery. She would have a handful of scars to show for it but nothing overly dramatic or noticeable.
Isamu on the other hand wasn't doing that well. In fact, outside of those who'd lost their lives, he came out of the incident the worst. As painful as it was to admit, the… the… what he was told was correct. He'd overdone it and damaged the parts of his brain responsible for advanced jujutsu.
Sure, he had reverse cursed technique which was the only reason he hadn't died. But the technique wasn't a panacea for all his problems. Like everything else in jujutsu, unlocking it was only the first step to becoming a master.
He would regenerate from stab wounds and burns with no problem but things like poisons and brain damage were a step above his expertise. Luckily, Shoko was confident in healing it over time. Unluckily, it would take a while. At least a week of daily appointments with Shoko and his own efforts.
If he didn't listen and tried to go off and fight anyway, he risked making the condition permanent. Until it was fixed, he was restrained to basic cursed energy enhancement and reinforcement, his basic technique, and maybe his extension technique.
Isamu sighed into the dark room as he just kept watching Maki sleep. Maybe it was a bit creepy but he honestly didn't care. He reached out with his left hand, wanting to hold Maki's hand more than anything. More for his own sake than anything else.
But he stopped himself. Would Maki want him to? After what he'd done not even a few hours ago? After killing innocent people with his reckless actions? Would she suffer a murder in her presence? In her life?
Isamu's hand dropped back to his lap as he leaned back into his chair. His eyes slowly closed, his aching mind slowly slipping into a land of dreams, the last thing he saw was Maki's golden eyes slowly opening before his exhaustion finally caught up with him.
——
Maki was surprised upon waking up. She hadn't been conscious for very long after being ripped apart by the cursed weed but had seen and felt enough to know the extent of her injuries. Which is why she was surprised to wake up to only a dull ache and a few waves of pain when she tried to move.
It still hurt but it wasn't the crippling, debilitating pain she expected. She turned her head to the right, ignoring the pain the action caused. She noticed she was in a hospital bed, as expected before her eyes adapted to the darkness of the room.
As her pupils expanded, she noticed she wasn't alone. Sitting beside her bed was Isamu, leaning back in his chair, his head leaning to rest on his shoulder as he slept. She couldn't help but smile, realizing how the tables had turned. She'd gone from being the worrier to the one causing the worry.
She wanted to talk to him, to be recapped on the events of the night after she was taken out. But Maki didn't want to wake her boyfriend, he no doubt had a tough night and she didn't want to hamper his recovery.
She turned her head the other way, spying a small clock on the table next to her bed, '12:32' if read. She'd been out for at least 2 hours. It was surprisingly short, considering her condition beforehand. Even with Shoko's healing, the reverse cursed technique of another could only do so much.
She lifted an arm, pushing her blanket away from her, exposing her torso and arm to her. She was covered from just above her breasts down in bandages. There were some spots of blood here and there but not much, not nearly enough to worry Maki anyway. Her arms were covered too, as was her right shoulder.
Maki was tired more than anything. Lightheaded even. It made sense, she figured, She had no doubt lost plenty of blood. She turned her head back around, watching to get another look at Isamu.
His white hair was ruffled and messy and Maki thought she saw a trace of red in it. His face was obviously tired, with heavy bags under each of his eyes. His jujutsu uniform was pretty much gone. He wore a white T-shirt with basic black shorts.
Even with his unkempt and dirty condition, he was still very much a sight for sore eyes. She really just wanted to hug him and kiss him. But she would hold herself back. She didn't want to tear any stitches or whatever.
She was a bit worried though. For two reasons, one a bit unrealistic. She was worried about Isamu, as she often was. He was prone to have seen things, and done some things. People no doubt died, deaths he probably blamed himself for. She just hoped she'd be able to talk to him before those feelings of guilt and shame dug too deep.
Maki's more outlandish source of worry was aimed more towards herself. Maki was far from stupid and pretty self-aware if she said so herself. So, naturally, she realized her own weakness. Sure, she could beat the snout out of any average sorcerer or cursed spirit, but Isamu was far from average. So any problems he couldn't handle, Maki wouldn't be able to help him with.
She would just be deadweight, just like she was that night. She was just someone to protect, a damsel to save and worry about. Maki clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. She felt so useless. She couldn't protect Isamu and she had no way of gaining the power necessary to do that. All because of her damn heavenly restriction.
After a moment, she let out a sigh. No use in getting angry at something you can't change. Maki would just have to resin herself to supporting him emotionally instead, no matter what.
——
Isamu walked through a dark, dirty hallway, the only light coming from a single white bulb hanging from the ceiling, swaying back and forth gently. The grim on the wall reflected the light, covering the room in a greenish tint. The hall was blank and unadorned, with only a single door at the end of it.
Walking a few dozen feet towards the door, Isamu opened it. The room he found himself in next was just as dark as the previous one, is not more so. It was a large, empty cavern, a huge cliff face of black obsidian directly in front of Isamu.
Walking up to it, the darkness seemed to clear, revealing the smooth surface of black stone. The rock seemed to clear as well, its face losing its black color and becoming more reflective. And in the newly formed mirror, Isamu found a truly horrifying sight.
Staring back at him was him. His face and eyes were the same. His hair as white as ever. But across his forehead ran a long horizontal scar with virtual scars crossing it every inch or so. It was just like the scar on Suguru Geto's head.
Isamu stared at it for a moment, his face blank as he just took in the sight. What's more, his reflection was smiling, that same smile the man wore nearly permanently. It opened his mouth to talk but Isamu didn't let it. Smashing his fist into the cliffside, he shattered the stone mirror and bloodied his hand, forcing him back into the land of the waking.
——
A man in a simple black cloak walked through a dim, candle-lit hallway. His boots were muddy, his hands and forearms wrapped in bandages, and the lower half of his face covered by a black cloth. A bow and quiver were strapped to his back, his eyes scanning the room with the skepticism and caution of a veteran, the few wrinkles around his eyes and the trace amount of grey hairs in his scalp giving away way.
His every move was calculated, each step measured and controlled. He stopped once he reached the end of the hallway. The candles flared as six traditional Japanese screens appeared.
"Zen'in, we're glad you answered our call." A voice called out from behind one of the screens.
"Yes, we are in need of a replacement, a spot has opened with the death of Elder Inumaki." Another said from the other end of the circle of screens surrounding the cloaked man.
"If you fulfill our request, we will grant you a place among us." A third voice sounded to the man's right, catching his attention as he recognized the voice. Two grumbles could be heard from the two members of the higher-ups who had yet to speak, making their disapproval clear. It was simple to understand why, they'd been outvoted.
"And what is it you ask?" The cloaked man said, his voice deep and gravity, he was clearly a frequent smoker.
"To kill Yuji Itadori of course, Sukuna's Vessel. With Gojo sealed, nothing is stopping us. Ahh, I know you have been away so I'll catch you up with our recent movings. To start, Suguru Geto is alive and his death sentence has been reinstated. Gojo has been tried and sentenced guilty as an accomplice, making any attempt to unseal him illegal and worthy of death. And for inciting the two, Principal Yaga has been convicted and sentenced to death as well." The first voice explained quickly as the man in black quickly came to an understanding of the situation.
It would be total Zen'in supremacy. Three of the five current members of the higher-ups were Zen'in or allied with them, the death of one of the non Zen'in affiliated members in the form of Botan Inumaki had broken the tie that'd formerly held the Zen'in back. With their new majority, the Zen'in could now vote in another member of the Zen'in to form a permanent majority vote among the higher-ups.
With Gojo Satoru sealed, the Gojo clan would fall and with the death of principal Yaga, an individual formerly protected by Gojo, the Zen'in could place one of their own as his replacement, gaining control of one of the two largest jujutsu schools. This all meant one thing, as long as the cloaked man succeeded, the Zen'in would run damn near everything jujutsu related.
It was only due to the influence the two other members of the higher-ups held that he wasn't given the position right away. The man would no doubt be fought by the two every step of the way. It was a heavy burden to bear for Katsugi Zen'in but it wasn't his first time under pressure but if all went right, it would hopefully be his last.
——