The soft hiss of the coffee machine filled the sleek, open-layout kitchen, accompanied by the clink of ceramic and the smell of fresh toast. Morning light bathed the apartment in a lazy golden hue, filtering through the wide floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sprawling Tokyo skyline.
Riku Yamadera sat at the marble island, hair tousled from sleep, still in a loose black shirt and sweatpants. The apartment's polished, luxury aesthetic—white stone, dark wood, minimalist art—reflected faintly on the shiny floors. He glanced across the room, watching Akari with quiet amusement as she moved barefoot through the kitchen, humming softly to herself.
She wore a short, oversized T-shirt that barely reached her stomach, a faded band logo stretching across her back. Her toned legs carried her across the tile in a relaxed stride, her short dyed-pink hair still mussed from sleep. The curve of her hips swayed slightly as she leaned over the stove, checking the eggs.
"Did you put salt in that?" Riku asked, voice still rough from just waking up.
Akari raised an eyebrow over her shoulder. "Do I look like a rookie to you?"
He gave a half-smile. "Depends. Last time you made rice, you forgot to rinse it."
"I was multitasking. And you still ate it."
"Because I didn't want to hurt your feelings."
She laughed and slid a plate toward him. "Eat, before I poison it for real."
Riku took the plate and settled in, fork clinking against the edge as he dug in. They ate in companionable silence for a while, the kind that came from routine and comfort rather than awkwardness. After nine months together, they knew each other's rhythms. There was a casual ease to everything—stolen glances, shared jokes, the way her hand brushed his knee absentmindedly under the table.
"You going out today?" she asked, rinsing her plate in the sink.
"Yeah. Errands." The lie came easily. Not because he wanted to hide things from her, but because it was safer that way.
Akari nodded, drying her hands. "Well, if your 'errands' take you past that bakery near the station, grab those chocolate croissants I like."
"You got it."
She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then tapped her phone. "I'll be with Yui and Chiho most of the day. We're doing book shopping and drinks later. I think Yui's finally giving up on that guy who ghosted her."
"About time."
They both laughed, and Riku stood, stretching as he grabbed his jacket and wristbands. He didn't need to say more—she trusted him. That made it harder.
When he left the apartment, he didn't bother taking the elevator all the way down. The moment he was alone in the stairwell, cursed energy pulsed around his legs, and with a blink, he vanished—Flash Stepping across rooftops and alleyways, the city blurring beneath his feet like a smear of light.
By the time he arrived at Jujutsu High, the air was sharper, the wind colder. He touched down near the main building, landing in a crouch before stepping through the gate.
Gojo was already there, lounging on the steps with his blindfold pulled slightly up, revealing one blue eye gleaming beneath silver lashes. Megumi stood nearby, arms crossed. Nobara looked mildly annoyed, arms folded over her chest. Yuji was eating something out of a bag, as usual.
"Well, look who actually showed up," Gojo grinned, waving lazily. "Riku the Mysterious."
"You summoned me," Riku replied dryly.
"Semantics."
Yuji blinked, surprised. "Wait, you're here too?"
"I breathe the same air, yeah."
Megumi muttered, "Wasn't expecting you to come out of nowhere."
Riku didn't bother answering. His attention shifted as Gojo straightened, suddenly a bit more serious.
"There's been a string of disappearances," he said, tone light but undercut by something firmer. "An industrial block outside Tokyo. People going in, not coming out. Readings are weird. Inconsistent. That's not how normal curses behave."
Nobara tilted her head. "What kind of readings?"
"Sometimes strong. Sometimes nothing. That usually means one of two things: either a high-level cursed spirit is hiding its presence… or we've got a curse user."
Yuji looked ready. "Want us to check it out?"
Gojo shook his head. "Nah. Riku's going alone."
"What?" Megumi frowned. "Why?"
"Because he's not officially one of us. And because this is a delicate matter, and his skillset makes him the least likely to get caught off guard."
Riku narrowed his eyes. "You're hiding something."
Gojo smiled. "You're hiding a lot more."
Riku didn't reply. Just reached out and took the file Gojo handed him.
A few minutes later, Gojo walked him down the path toward the courtyard, his voice lowering.
"Be careful," he said. "I don't know what this is, but my gut hates it."
"I'll manage."
Gojo tilted his head. "Still. Try not to die. You're interesting."
Meanwhile, across town, Akari was laughing with her friends as they wandered through a secondhand bookstore. She held up a ridiculous romance manga and mimicked the cover art. Her friends wheezed with laughter. Later, at a street-side café, they sipped drinks and gossiped about teachers, work, and that one guy who sent twenty messages after being ghosted.
She stepped aside to answer a text and, without thinking, turned down a quiet alley to take the call. A cold breeze rushed past her—unnaturally sharp. She shivered, arms wrapping around herself. When she turned to look, there was nothing. Just the alley, quiet and still.
She shook her head and walked back toward the others.
Back in the outskirts of Tokyo, night had fallen.
Riku stood at the edge of a crumbling industrial district. Rusted scaffolding loomed like bones. Broken windows reflected moonlight. The air was still… too still. Not dead. Not quiet. Just waiting.
He stepped forward.
The shadows moved.
And far away, something grinned in the dark.
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Alright I'm tired of the argument lets just do a vote. Comment in which spot you want.
Want her dead.
Don't want her dead.