Sunday, December 24th: Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.
"Itadori."
"Agh!"
He jumped. A consequence of her current outfit. Yuriko was wearing the same 'inconspicuous disguise' she had worn after kicking herself out of her dad's house: a snapback cap and a pair of sunglasses. I really was scaring the Ho's. She thought of that thing Sasaki did for her the other day when she was on the ground: offering her hand, to lift him back up. But it hadn't been a gesture Yuriko understood, so she doubted Itadori would understand it either. Maybe as Sasaki's 'friend,' he would have? Questions for later.
"Itadori," she repeated, now walking toward the front door. "The talk show's live Christmas special will be starting at eight."
She could tell the boy nodded from the way the air flowed.
"And it'll be hosting Takada-sama."
He nodded again.
"If I'm not back by then, just assume that I'm dead."
She pulled the door open, and the cold sauntered into the room like a frat boy wondering where his 'hug at.'
Itadori caught himself mid-nod. "Dead..." he mumbled. "Where are you going Suzushina-san? Remember, I can handle anything! If you need help, I—"
"Yuriko," she said, turning less so to address him, and more so to observe his reaction. "It's Yu-ri-ko. I hate being called 'Suzushina.' Always have."
He blinked. At this point, she was used to what confusion looked like on his face. He wore it all the time, but there was a lightness to it this time. A soft lift of his eyebrows.
"Oh! Yuriko..." His face brightened. Then with more enthusiasm than she had the patience for, Itadori pointed a thumb at himself like an anime character seconds away from being humbled. "In that case, I'm Yu—"
The door slammed behind her.
***
"You remind me of someone."
And what had he meant by that? What did Geto Suguru know about Suzushina Yuriko? Nothing. She postulated to herself that he'd been watching her since December 8th. Since she killed that thing—the curse. If Geto had indeed been responsible for Hanako at Sugisawa, then what's to say he hadn't also been responsible for the attack on Mr Hokaze?
Yuriko boarded the Touhoku Shinkansen: two hours, and one change to get to Shinjuku.
Who would conclude Vector Manipulation just by watching her blow stuff up? It was unlikely that they knew the full extent of what she could do. Because the smart thing to have done was to kill her in her sleep. To strangle the baby god in her cradle. So, no. It wasn't her power that reminded him of anyone. Unless someone else could... Yuriko tossed the worrying thought aside for now.
"[...] in more ways than one."
She caught her reflection... Red eyes; white hair. Previously uncommon, and it probably still was. Yet, this was a world where a boy could have natural pink hair—like that 'Saiki Kusuo.' An anime world.
Yuriko's mind raced with simulations. She was mentally generating profiles of fictional people who fell within those narrow parameters. What did they look like? She made herself the base template. An elderly lady, red eyes, white hair. A woman of Geto's age with similar features.
Geto had spoken of this 'someone' with no small measure of regret. Presumably, they'd found themselves on opposing ends of this conflict. Whoever they were, her goal was clear. Find 'white hair'; render aid.
She wouldn't take to arms for their cause, but it certainly wouldn't hurt her own to lend them a few rocks. Yuriko's expression morphed in the window as the simple plan crystallised. Wait, is that what that looks like? She broke eye contact with herself with an almost-shiver.
"Huh," Yuriko mumbled. "No wonder."
***
Gojo Satoru winked into existence above the Tokyo campus. Relief, relief; relief again. He bled tension, like a tourist losing faith in London in real-time.
Maki, unlike that teenager-hunting bum, had at least a little bit of cursed energy. He was grateful for that; she was the one he had been most worried about, but he could see that she was alive. Though his eyes narrowed at just how dim her light appeared—it wasn't from a lack of effort on Suguru's part. Toge? Stable, as expected and Panda was stable too.
Satoru zeroed in on the clashing energies.
"I raised that boy," he muttered, and his smile would have been contagious, if he weren't alone up there.
It was empirically clear under his Six Eyes. Yuta's last-second hail Mary would trump the Maximum Technique of his former best friend. Oh, a binding vow? Can't relate.
Sure, most of Suguru's arsenal was expended on keeping the Jujutsushi occupied. Sure, Rika was frankly bullshit, but nine months? Nine months and the boy was already putting an experienced Special Grade on the back foot. How high would his ceiling go?
"Well," he cracked his neck. "Time to end this."
The strongest sorcerer stepped out, then back into reality again.
***
I'm cooked.
There were no two ways about it. Suguru had underestimated the kid, or had he overestimated himself? Either way, even as he primed Uzumaki with the few curses that remained in his kit, Suguru couldn't fight the bubbling font of pride in his gut. He felt a small degree of envy, too. If only he had been able to convince her on the spot, then he would have had his own prodigy to flaunt. Oh well.
Suguru wrung those emotions for all they were worth, as the cursed energy fuelled his Maximum. Space thrummed. The air tasted of ozone.
The boy, meanwhile, was conjuring oblivion. Death, taking the form of a geometric sphere. And the only price he had to pay was his mortal soul.
"Seriously, what are they feeding these kids?" he groused.
The moment drew taut as a bow string; then the two monsters loosed their 'arrows.'
Suguru braced himself for light. Suguru braced himself for victory. Suguru braced for a counterattack, if such a thing could be possible when they were both already giving it their all. The one thing he hadn't braced for, was nothing.
In the space between seconds, when the behemoth manifestations of energy should have collided, something had gone awry. Someone had gone awry from his script. His perfect plan. There was no way he could have gotten here this early, not with all the potholes Suguru had placed on the road along the way, but if anyone could do it, it would be him.
"Satoru!"
"Go—Gojo-sensei?!"
The true Monster. Capital M intended. Suguru bit the inside of his cheek for even thinking that, but how could he not? The way the man appeared between death, and oblivion, and with an ease almost contemptuous, stopped them cold in their tracks.
"Red," said the strongest. Satoru flicked his fingers upward, and like the good little dogs they were, both attacks, both manifestations of the pure desire to kill, simply heeded the gesture. They detonated somewhere out of sight. "Good job, Yuta."
There it was: that patented, shit-eating grin. Like suffering and hardship were only things he could choose to experience.
"I see," Suguru chuckled bitterly. He couldn't even put up a token resistance. This was it.
"Hm?"
"You abandoned the others, didn't you? For just one—"
"Ah, ah, that's enough out of you."
Suguru felt a flicker of power, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a cell with both his technique and cursed energy thoroughly bound.
***
Sunday, December 24th: 7:41PM.
She didn't know how much she had changed, or if her actions even had any sort of effect, but Suzushina Yuriko would be damned if she missed that Christmas special.
The girl hopped off the bullet train and pumped what precious little remained of her energy into her legs. She thought the train ride would temper the feeling. That insidious, traitorous feeling, but the closer she got to Sendai, to them, it only got worse. She pushed it down as she rounded the street where Itadori lived. Where she lived.
No. Stop it.
Her hand froze above the door handle. One. Two. Three. That was two more signatures than she expected. Her Vector Reflection slammed into place as she turned the handle. She had about two minutes left in her. Two minutes to assess the situation. Two minutes to decide whether she needed to—
"Oh, Yuriko! You're here!"
"Hey Suzushi—" Sasaki jabbed Iguchi in the ribs— "Yuriko," he coughed.
"Yurikon!" Itadori exclaimed.
All three of them were sitting on his tatami in the living area. The TV blared in front of them, as a countdown heralded the advent of Takada-sama. There was an unmistakable absence between them where someone was supposed to be seated.
Yuriko's Reflection dropped, and the feeling soared to new heights. Stop, she willed. To no avail.
"Itadori—" she hissed.
"Yuji," the boy insisted.
"Fine. Yuji," Yuriko scowled before taking her seat. "Call me that again, and you can tell your 'Gramps' it was 'Yurikon' who sent you."
The boy shuddered.
"Told you she'd hate that," and before Yuriko could even retort to the snorting Sasaki—
"Tan, Taka-taaan!"
The clock struck eight.
There was nothing she could do now. She was fighting a war on...she'd lost count of how many fronts now. There was no downward acceleration that could keep it tethered. Her heart was soaring.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we got her," said Ita—Yuji, as he pumped his fists into the air.
"Huh, wow, I... I uhm, don't think I've seen you smile before."
Yuriko's hand shot to her mouth, and to her horror...
"I'm smiling?"
[Author's note.]
Would you rather I post the chapters (the ones that get as long as 4k words, etc) as one chapter, or would you rather I continue to split them into two (but post them on the same day) as I've done so far?
Split.
Whole.