Reiji stood in front of his destination after a rather lengthy trip. He had made it a habit to visit this place once every month. It was another orphanage… this time, a much larger one. As he reached for the entrance, dreadful memories stirred within him. He suppressed them and forced a smile as he quietly stepped inside through the main door.
The wooden floor creaked softly beneath his brisk steps. Unlike the previous orphanage, this one was state-sponsored and run by a dedicated, professional faculty. The halls were clean, orderly, and devoid of the chaos he remembered too well.
Reiji reached for the handle of an old door to his right and slowly pushed it open, careful not to wake the children sleeping inside.
He took a deep breath, his expression softening as a gentle smile appeared on his face. He would have loved to spend time with them, to sit beside their beds and talk, but something deep within him vehemently refused the idea. He felt unworthy… like he didn't deserve their company.
The warmth he felt soured quickly, and he turned away from the room.
He walked further down the corridor until he reached another door. Even at a glance, it was clear this room was different. The door was newer and reinforced, with a clean metal knob that stood out against the aged walls. Reiji twisted it and stepped inside.
He sighed, mentally bracing himself for what awaited him. This room was a trial—one he had tried to overcome countless times, and one he had failed every single time until now.
"Let's hope for the best today as well…" he murmured.
The room itself was immaculate, sterile even. The air hummed faintly with machinery. At the center of the room stood a small crib. Inside it lay a baby, no more than six months old. She was completely still. Her stillness was so absolute that one might have mistaken her for dead.
Reiji stepped forward, his footsteps echoing in rhythm with the steady hum of the life-support systems attached to the child.
As he stood over the crib, he spared a long, lingering glance at the infant within. She was an unfortunate girl, born with a rare congenital defect; one that had prevented large portions of her brain and skull from forming.
She was for all intents and purposes, brain-dead.
Reiji slowly extended his arms and lifted the child with extreme care. The wires and tubes connected to her small body shifted as she was raised. The sight that greeted him was truly gruesome. There was nothing above the girl's forehead; no bone, no skin. Nothing but a formless, mangled mass that was supposed to be her brain.
A thin, translucent diaphragm separated the open air from the slightly pulsating, writhing neural matter beneath it.
Reiji froze as his eyes scanned the exposed brain tissue. Beneath the visible red flesh lurked dark stains of necrosis. It was evidence of ongoing decay.
He swallowed hard and steeled himself as he extended a single finger toward the child's forehead.
"I must heal the degeneration…"
The moment his finger made contact, golden-white energy surged forth. His reverse cursed technique flowed instantly into the child's body, mending atrophied muscles and reviving tissue that should have long since died.
His monthly visits were the only reason this child was still alive.
Beads of sweat formed on Reiji's forehead as he continued. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he poured more and more energy into her fragile form. His breathing grew labored and his body trembled under the strain.
At last, the protruding brain matter appeared healthier.
Reiji gasped sharply and gently placed the child back into the crib, his hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary. He stood there, staring down at her, his expression weighed down by a deep, gnawing worry.
"I have to keep healing her… until she can receive further treatment," he whispered.
Suddenly, the door creaked open behind him.
Reiji didn't flinch… It was as if he had expected this.
An elderly woman, the head of the facility, slowly stepped inside. Her posture was straight, her presence firm and composed. She carried the air of someone who had spent her entire life raising abandoned children.
"It's you again, young man," she said, her voice was deliberate but not unkind.
Reiji didn't turn to face her. His gaze remained fixed on the child, with uncertainty clouding his eyes.
"Whenever I feel like this child's time in this world is coming to an end," she continued gently, "I always find you here…"
"And the very next day," she added, "she's fine again."
The woman walked up and stopped beside him. She studied the young man quietly. Despite the brave face he put on, she could feel the pain he carried. Perhaps it was her age, or perhaps her experience, but she could see straight through his façade.
"Death comes for everyone," she said softly. "I won't ask what you're doing to keep this child alive. But please understand… there's only so much one can do to delay the inevitable."
Reiji grit his teeth, his fists clenching tightly at his sides. He knew she was right. He knew he was being selfish; pouring his strength into a select few while millions suffered beyond his reach. He knew that all his efforts might still amount to nothing. Death could claim the child at any moment after all.
But he was only human. And there was only so much restraint a human heart could bear.
An emotion surged within him, one that had been haunting him more frequently of late.
"I refuse!" he shouted.
The woman recoiled in surprise. The gentle boy who visited so often had never raised his voice at her before.
"I refuse to give up on her!" he yelled.
The child lay motionless in her crib, unaware of the storm unfolding beside her.
Attachment was a strange thing. It crept up on you when you least expected it, then clung tightly… sometimes until the very end. It could destroy everything, or it could build something beautiful.
As Reiji seethed in his own madness, the woman's voice cut through the air.
"Are you okay, child?"
She placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
The contact hit him like a sudden collision. His fury drained away as quickly as it had erupted. Reiji staggered back, gasping, his breath uneven.
He turned to face her, eyes wide.
"What is going on with me…?"
"I'm sorry," he muttered, clutching his head as he struggled to steady himself.
The woman's expression shifted to concern.
"Young man- "
Before she could continue, Reiji turned and hurried out of the room.
The woman sighed quietly as she watched him leave. After a moment, she turned back toward the baby lying motionless in the crib. Sitting beside her, she began to sing a soft lullaby… fully aware that the child could not hear it.
*********************************************************************
Two trainee sorcerers were patrolling the grounds of Jujutsu High. The white-haired sorcerer walked haphazardly, lazily sipping from a can of soda, while the more serious black-haired sorcerer trailed slightly ahead of him, hunched forward with his hands buried deep in his pockets.
The two were, of course, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.
They had no missions for the day and were instead instructed to simply patrol the Jujutsu High compound; a task neither of them was taking particularly seriously.
"Reiji wrote to me, you know," Geto said suddenly, breaking the quiet.
Gojo wiped his lips with the cuff of his uniform and crushed the empty can with a casual application of cursed energy.
"Oh?" he replied, tone light.
He perked up as if recalling something important.
"Ah- right, right. He wrote to me too," Gojo continued. "A letter. Said I was supposed to explain everything in it to you as well."
Geto shot him a skeptical glance.
"Really? He mentioned the exact same thing in the letter he gave me…" He paused. "Well? What did he say?"
Gojo tilted his head back, staring up at the sky with an oddly thoughtful expression before answering.
"Ugh… he just answered a question I asked him, that's all," he said vaguely. "Apparently there's some kind of strange relic in one of his eyes. Or something like that. It acts up every now and then."
Geto sighed quietly.
"He told me there's an ancestor in his lineage who made enemies everywhere he went," he said. "That might be why ancient sorcerers are after him now. But even he doesn't know the details."
Gojo grinned widely.
"Now that is interesting." He glanced sideways at Geto. "But why didn't he just tell us directly?"
Geto exhaled through his nose.
"He's going on leave again. Two days, apparently. Shoko asked him to do something."
Gojo laughed.
"Man, he really has it rough."
A heavy silence followed.
Both of them understood what went unsaid. Their friend was in serious danger, and none of them knew exactly what was going on.
Geto's expression hardened slightly as he gathered his resolve.
"Satoru… I'm going to look into it."
Gojo blinked, genuinely confused.
"Huh? Look into what?"
Annoyed, Geto clicked his tongue.
"Tch. I'm going to dig through the Jujutsu High archives. His clan, his ancestors… everything."
Gojo raised a finger and spun it in the air, as though struck by sudden enlightenment.
"Ohhh, that's what you meant!" he said brightly. "Then count me in."
Geto paused for a moment, staring at Gojo's infuriatingly carefree smile. He sighed in disbelief and shook his head as they resumed their patrol.
By the end of the day, Geto was certain of one thing.
'I will get to the bottom of this, Reiji…'