The cursed womb's corpse still steamed where it lay. Ribbons of its now-dissolved bile pooled on the moss-covered earth like ink from a ruptured heart. The trio didn't speak for a while. The silence wasn't awkward—it was filled with the residue of instinct and efficiency.
Suddenly the air shifted.
Kishibe's eyes narrowed.
"Another one's coming," he said.
"Already?" Gojo huffed, stretching his arms lazily. "Man, can't even get a breather out here."
Geto was already forming hand seals. "Residuals are thick in this forest. There's a nesting site nearby. This one was just the guard dog."
Kishibe sheathed his blade, adjusted the grip, and looked through the trees.
Then the scream came. High-pitched, feral, and somehow... pleading.
From between the thickets came a curse more grotesque than the last. It had arms—too many of them, all twisting at impossible angles—and a gaping, tooth-lined maw down its chest. Faces—some human, some animal—pushed against its translucent skin, wailing in silence.
Gojo stepped forward, spinning his blindfold like a headband. "I'll take this one."
Kishibe stopped him. "No. Let's try coordinated."
"Coordinated? With you?" Gojo grinned. "Aw, you're opening up."
Geto raised an eyebrow. "It might be a special grade. Let's be smart."
The curse lunged.
"Go!" Kishibe shouted.
Geto summoned two mid-level curse spirits—ethereal, dragonfly-like things that zipped toward the abomination. They wrapped around its limbs, trying to slow it. Kishibe moved like a shadow beneath their distraction, blade already low.
It sensed him. The curse twisted, one malformed arm crashing down. Kishibe slid beneath it and slashed—but the blade skidded off something hard. Bone? Armor?
"Tch."
"Back!" Geto barked.
A wave of spectral energy crashed forward as one of Geto's spirits self-destructed on impact. It barely staggered the curse.
"Gojo!"
Gojo appeared in an instant, his kick slamming into the creature's jaw. The impact didn't break the curse—it rippled through its body like hitting water.
"What the hell?" he muttered, landing beside Kishibe. "It's shifting its mass. Like a jellyfish."
"Then cut deeper," Kishibe said, and surged forward.
The Severance technique flared. His blade shimmered—not just slicing the flesh, but slicing presence. He carved a path across the creature's side and its cursed energy unraveled, chunks of its form dissipating in a roar of twisting air.
Still, it remained.
"It's holding together with raw will," Geto observed. "It's not just a curse—it's desperate."
Gojo stood beside them now, cracking his neck. "Fine. Teamwork it is."
He flashed a rare grin at Kishibe. "Let's go, Monster Trio."
The name hung in the air, and even Kishibe gave a faint smirk.
They moved.
Kishibe darted left, drawing attention. The curse screeched and spun. Gojo warped in behind it, distorting the space with Limitless just enough to disorient. Geto's remaining spirit surged forward, biting into its exposed back.
"Now!"
Kishibe leapt, blade raised. The Severance cursed technique flared with brilliant clarity, and the moment his weapon struck the curse's core, it didn't just cut—it erased.
The creature wailed. Then silence.
Ashes and light drifted through the trees.
---
Later, as they walked back through the forest, Gojo was still grinning. "Okay, that was badass. Admit it, we looked cool."
"No," Kishibe said flatly.
"You smiled, don't lie."
"Must've been gas."
Geto chuckled. "We're improving. We're still rough, but our rhythm's getting tighter."
Gojo nudged Kishibe's shoulder. "See? We're not just teammates—we're brothers in arms."
Kishibe didn't respond, but after a few steps, he said quietly, "You weren't half bad."
Gojo blinked. "Did you just compliment me?"
Kishibe kept walking. "Don't push it."
But even Geto smiled. It wasn't just banter anymore. They were beginning to feel like something more than a unit.
They were becoming a bond.
And under the hush of the trees, that bond—tempered by blood and combat—began to forge into something lasting.