The wind rattled against the edges of the training grounds, carrying the faint scent of rain and dust. Takeru adjusted the dark blue sunglasses perched on his nose and watched Yuji with a mixture of admiration and wariness. His friend was all movement—loud, brash, confident—while Takeru tended to observe first, think later. But somehow, they fit.
"You're staring again," Yuji said, tossing a small wooden practice dagger in his hand. "You gonna train or just look cool?"
Takeru smirked faintly. "Maybe both."
The comment earned a grin from Yuji. But the air between them was tense—not because of each other, but because of the weight pressing down on them. The kind of weight that wasn't just about the upcoming drills. The kind that came with a name no one wanted to speak aloud: Ryomen Sukuna.
They had been recruited by Satoru Gojo, the man with the endless confidence and ridiculous blindfold, after an event that had changed their lives forever. It was simple in explanation, but impossible to truly grasp: they had each eaten a cursed finger of Sukuna—the King of Curses—and become half of him.
Takeru rubbed the side of his neck where the memory burned faintly, almost like a shadow beneath his skin. The two fingers they had found sat like talismans of fate. One for him, one for Yuji. Two halves of something ancient, cursed, and terrifying.
"You know what this means," Takeru said quietly, voice low enough that only Yuji could hear.
Yuji's grin faltered. "Yeah… suspended death sentence. Satoru said it himself."
They weren't exaggerating. Their very existence had become a negotiation with fate. They were enrolled in Jujutsu High not just as students, but as vessels for Sukuna, under one strict condition: first, they had to help find and consume all twenty of Sukuna's fingers. Only then would their bond with the King of Curses—and their lives—be properly… assessed.
Takeru's mind drifted, imagining what it would feel like to fully awaken Sukuna. The thought was terrifying, yes, but there was something else buried beneath it—power. Potential. A chance to save the people who mattered, like Wasuke had once told him, even if it came from something cursed.
"You ready?" Yuji asked, snapping him back to reality.
Takeru nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."
Behind them, the gates of Jujutsu High loomed, tall and foreboding. Gojo's figure appeared in the distance, nonchalant as always, one hand adjusting his blindfold, the other tucked in his pocket. "Finally decided to join the party, huh?" Gojo's voice carried the kind of casual authority that made it clear he could end their lives—or save them—without effort.
Takeru swallowed. This wasn't a game. This was life, death, and something older than either of them had ever faced.
"Let's do this," Yuji muttered beside him, fists clenched.
Takeru mirrored the motion. "Let's."
Together, they stepped through the gates. And with every step, the shadow of Sukuna followed, whispering promises of power, danger, and a fate neither could escape.