Shiki POV
The moment the special grade was killed, the hospital around us shifted. Gone were the twisted hallways and maze-like structures, replaced by the ordinary, cold, sterile walls of Asahikawa Medical University Hospital. But despite the return to normalcy, the corpses remained—still moving, still cursed. Their numbers had dwindled significantly, but they were still a threat.
Since I was the only one capable of permanently killing them, Maki and Nanami agreed on a plan: they would bait as many of the remaining corpses as they could and bring them to me for the final blow.
It took two long hours to clear the entire hospital. Scouring each floor, each wing, room by room, to make sure not a single one was left.
When the last one fell, its cursed lines severed beneath my blade, the hospital fell into an eerie silence.
Maki slumped down against a nearby wall, breathing heavily, her naginata resting across her knees. I stood nearby, leaning against a surgical table, my katana still in hand, though my grip had loosened now that the danger had passed.
"Two hours," Maki muttered, glancing up at me. "That's got to be some kind of record."
I gave a small shrug, sheathing my blade. "Could've been faster if they weren't scattered all over the place."
"Yeah, well, not all of us have the luxury of being able to kill them with one clean cut. You make it look easy."
Maki stretched out her legs, letting out a sigh. "So... how do you do it?"
I raised an eyebrow, turning my attention back to her. "Do what?"
"Cut them down like that," she clarified, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity. "Even if I behead them, they keep moving. But you—" she gestured with her hand—"you just slice through them like they're made of paper. It's... almost unnatural."
I considered her words for a moment. I could explain it to her, I suppose. The lines. The death that I see. But I don't. Instead, I offer a vague response. "It's just how I'm built."
Maki raised an eyebrow. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got."
Maki was still staring at me, waiting for an answer. I could tell she wasn't going to let it go this time. I sighed quietly and stood up.
"You really want to know?" I asked, glancing down at her.
"Yeah, I do."
I stepped away from her, looking around until I found a small branch from a nearby tree. That would do.
"Alright, Watch closely." I said, pointing the tree toward a random tree.
Maki stood beside me; her eyes locked on the branch. I didn't swing or slice it immediately. Instead, I let the tip of the branch slowly trace the crimson lines that only I could see, following one from end to end.
The branch barely touched the surface of the tree, but the effect was instant. The tree split cleanly in half, falling apart as if it had been neatly severed.
"There," I muttered, half to myself.
Maki leaned in slightly, her brow furrowing. "...What?"
"You can't see it, but there are lines. Everything has them—objects, living things. If I cut along those lines, it all falls apart. Simple as that."
I didn't tell her what the lines truly represented—that they weren't just physical weaknesses, but something far more absolute. That part wasn't important.
Maki straightened up, her gaze still fixed on me. "That's... terrifying."
I shrugged. "It is what it is."
She was quiet for a moment, clearly processing what I'd just told her. Then, finally, she asked, "Is it the same with people?"
I stared at her, letting the question hang in the air for a moment before answering. My voice was low, almost a whisper.
"Yes"
Maki's expression didn't change, but there was something different in her eyes now. Not fear, but understanding. She nodded slowly, taking a step back.
"I get it now," she said. "Kind of."
"Anyway," Maki continued, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Thanks for... whatever it is you do. We wouldn't have gotten through that without you."
I glanced at her, meeting her eyes briefly. "You did your part."
Maki's smirk widened a bit. "Yeah, but it's still a team effort, right?"
I didn't respond, but I gave a small nod. Team effort... Sure.
Nanami approached the two of them after a brief conversation with the hospital staff. His usual composed demeanor returned as he adjusted his glasses.
"You both did well, given the circumstances," he said, his voice calm. "It wasn't an ideal situation, but you handled it efficiently."
Maki gave a slight grin, though the exhaustion was clear on her face. "Could've been worse."
Nanami's eyes then shifted towards me, something more serious crossing his face. He gestured subtly towards her. "Shiki, I need to speak with you for a moment."
Maki noticed the gesture and simply waved her hand. "Go ahead,"
I followed Nanami a few steps away. Once they were out of earshot, Nanami turned to me, his eyes filled with thought.
"I wanted to discuss something," he began, his tone measured. "I need to talk to you about the special grade, how you killed it. Tell me the details."
That request felt odd, but I met his gaze and nodded. I explained how I killed the cursed spirit, though I omitted certain parts. There were things about my eyes that didn't need to be said aloud.
After a brief pause, Nanami asked, "Did you see anything unusual? Perhaps something like a finger?"
I blinked, narrowing my eyes as I considered the question. A finger? Was he talking about that strange object that turned to dust after she defeated the cursed spirit?
"Yes," I replied, nodding slightly. "After I killed it, there was a finger. It disintegrated into dust along with the rest of the spirit."
Nanami's expression darkened as he pulled out a worn piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it carefully. On the paper was a drawing of a mummified finger wrapped in some kind of talisman. The general shape matched what I had seen, though the finger I'd seen lacked the wrapping.
"Did it look like this?" Nanami asked.
I studied the drawing. The general shape was the same as the one I saw, though the one I encountered didn't have the talisman wrapped around it.
I nodded. "Yes, pretty much the same, minus the wrapping."
Nanami sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Now this is rather troubling. Did Gojo tell you something about this?"
My brow furrowed. "What is that thing?"
Nanami looked at me. "It's an indestructible cursed object. One of Sukuna's fingers. This might be the reason behind this whole situation." He folded the paper back up."
Sukuna? Indestructible?
"Gojo will explain it later," Nanami added, cutting off my thoughts.
That was odd, but I didn't press him any further. Whatever it was, I'd get more answers when we returned. Now that the mission was over, at least they could finally leave.
I shrugged. "We done here, then?"
Nanami gave a slight nod. "Yes. Let's wrap up. We'll head back and debrief."
With that, I turned back toward Maki, who was still waiting. Finally, the mission was over.
.
.
Third Person POV
Gojo stood before the Jujutsu higher-ups, a bored expression plastered on his face. He leaned back slightly, his arms crossed, clearly not interested in whatever discussion was taking place around him. The room was dim, the air thick with the suffocating tension that always hung over these meetings.
His half-lidded eyes scanned the elders in front of him as they droned on and on, their monotonous voices blending together. It was the same old exchange, the same politics, the same rigid, outdated thinking. Every word grated on him, each one more irrelevant than the last.
He had no desire to be here. In fact, he'd rather be anywhere else, doing anything else. But as the "strongest," as they liked to remind him, his presence was often required for these dull meetings.
Gojo sighed internally. The longer this dragged on, the more tired he became of pretending to care about their endless complaints and power struggles.
At some point, one of the elders turned to address him directly, snapping Gojo out of his daze. He tilted his head slightly, offering them the faintest smirk, though there was no amusement behind it.
"Satoru, care to explain why you failed to disclose everything about this Ryougi Shiki?"
Gojo tilted his head slightly, his faint smirk still in place. "Oh, so that's what this is about?" he replied lazily. "What part didn't I tell you? Her eyes? Her ability? Or how she managed to destroy Sukuna's finger?
The room fell silent for a beat. Then, one of the elders, a particularly irritable man with a thin mustache, slammed his hand on the table.
"All of it, Satoru!" he shouted "You've been deliberately vague about her abilities! We cannot have an unknown like her running around unchecked!"
"So now that she's proven useful, you want to exploit her, is that it?" His voice was cold, mocking. "Why the sudden interest? Scared she'll get stronger than you can handle?"
The elders exchanged uneasy glances. Their frustration was palpable, but Gojo could sense their fear, too.
He, too, had been surprised at first. When he had met Shiki, her presence had caught him off guard. He couldn't deny the feeling he got from her—the way her mystifying blue-and-rainbow-colored pupils seemed to pierce through everything, even him. They carried an overwhelming, almost primal force. It was enough to send a chill down the spine of someone like him—someone known as "The Strongest."
One of the elders cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Given the circumstances, we've decided that Ryougi Shiki will no longer be considered for promotion to First Grade Sorcerer."
"Oh? Then what will she be?"
"We will make her a Special Grade Sorcerer."
Gojo's smirk never left his face as he watched the elders shift uncomfortably in their seats. Their fear was evident—fear of what Shiki could do, of what she was. And now, promoting her to Special Grade?
"...Special Grade, huh? Well, I guess that means I did a better job training her than I thought." He gave a soft chuckle. "But you know what that also means, right?"
The elders exchanged glances again.
"It means," Gojo said, his tone sharp and mocking, "she's beyond your control."
"Watch your tone, Satoru. This is a matter of keeping balance—"
Gojo cut him off, "You're scared of her, aren't you? Balance? You don't even understand what that word means anymore. You're just afraid of change."
His words hung in the air like a blade, sharp and threatening. The elders bristled, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats while others clenched their fists, seething at Gojo's audacity.
"You think naming her Special Grade gives you control?" Gojo continued, his voice low but full of amusement. "You're wrong. All you've done is put her even further out of reach."
"Enough, Gojo! We will not be lectured by someone who defies the system at every turn!"
"Fine, fine. You've made your decision. Just don't come crying to me when she ends up surpassing your expectations. Or when she decides she's had enough of your nonsense." Gojo met his gaze, unflinching. He raised his hands, mocking surrender, but his smile only grew wider.
Without waiting for a response, Gojo turned on his heel, his white hair swaying as he made his way toward the door, knowing full well that their decision had only given Shiki more freedom, something they were likely unaware of.
Even without an official special grade title, there was no controlling someone like Shiki—not with her personality. She wasn't someone to be bound by rules, and if those old geezers ever tried to mess with her, there was no doubt she would unleash a massacre.
"Those geezers should feel grateful to me, If not for me as her teacher, Shiki would probably become another disaster like Zen'in Toji."
Gojo's footsteps slowed as his thoughts deepened.
Revenge.
That was the reason she had entered the jujutsu world. It was her driving force, her singular focus. But that wasn't what unsettled him. Revenge was something he had seen countless times—people driven by anger, desperation, or loss. But with Shiki, it was different. It wasn't the why that troubled him; it was the how.
There was a cold detachment to everything she did.
Gojo could feel it. Shiki wasn't consumed by anger or desperation, as most people seeking revenge were. There was no passion behind her goals, She moved through life with that singular focus. She didn't seem to care whether she lived or died, as long as she achieved what she wanted.
She had no ties. No friends, no bonds to hold her back. She was utterly untethered, moving through the world with a purpose but without meaning.
"Yeah...She might become a disaster much worse than Toji ever was." He muttered to himself, his voice almost a whisper.
Different from Toji, Shiki was dangerous for entirely different reasons. She wasn't fighting against anything—she was just moving toward something.
For the first time in a long while, Gojo felt concerned. Not about the geezers or their schemes, but about Shiki herself. If revenge was the only thing keeping her going, then what would happen once that purpose was fulfilled? What would be left of her? Would she even care?
How far would she go to achieve her goal?
And once there was nothing left—once the revenge was over—what would become of Ryougi Shiki?
.
.
Shiki POV
Shiki and Maki sat quietly as Nitta-san drove them back from the airport. The car ride was smooth, the city lights flickering through the windows. It was supposed to be with Nanami too, but he had business elsewhere, leaving just the two of us in the backseat.
Maki finally broke the silence, turning slightly toward me. "Shiki, you mentioned those lines you see—how they show weaknesses, and if you cut them, things fall apart. Did you see anything else? Like...a path or a route to take?"
"A path?"
"Yeah," Maki continued, sounding more curious than usual. "Like the best way to handle things or make a move in a fight. Did anything like that show up?"
I thought for a moment before responding. "Not really. My eyes focus on the lines—the weaknesses. I haven't seen anything that looks like a path or anything else guiding me."
Maki nodded slightly, then explained something from her own experience. She talked about how, during the battle, she had been cornered by a horde of cursed corpses. In the middle of that desperation, everything around her seemed to slow down, and she found herself moving faster than she'd expected.
But what caught my attention was the way she described it. Maki said she could visualize multiple paths—different routes she could take to strike at her enemies. Those paths appeared as if they led to specific points on their bodies. By following them, she said her movements felt optimal, like they were naturally leading her to execute the most effective attacks.
Maki paused after sharing her experience, glancing at me as if waiting for a reaction. I simply nodded, taking in what she said.
"It's different from what I see, I don't visualize paths like that."
Maki leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "Huh. I guess everyone has their own way of seeing things, then."
The conversation lapsed into silence again as we neared the school. The buildings and gates of Jujutsu High came into view, and as we pulled up to the entrance, I noticed a familiar figure standing there, waiting. Gojo.
His white hair caught the light from the street lamps, and he stood with his hands in his pockets, a casual smile on his face as we stepped out of the car.
"Welcome back," Gojo greeted us, waving lazily. "How was the mission? Did you have fun?"
Maki rolled her eyes. "Fun isn't exactly the word I'd use."
Gojo chuckled. "That's just because you're always so serious, Maki. You should learn to lighten up a bit."
She sighed, ignoring his teasing. "Anyway, we're back, safe and sound. I'm heading to my room. See you around."
With that, Maki gave a small wave and turned toward the dorms, leaving me and Gojo standing at the entrance. He watched her go, his smile still in place, though there was a hint of something else in his eyes as he turned back to me.
Gojo watched Maki walk off for a moment before turning his attention back to me, his usual grin still plastered on his face. "So, Shiki, how's it feel?"
I shrugged. "It's fine."
"Just 'fine'? No dramatic realizations or epiphanies about the meaning of life?"
I gave him a look. "I cut things. They die. That's it."
Gojo chuckled, clearly entertained. "I guess that's one way to see it."
He leaned against the school gate, his posture casual but his eyes a little too focused for comfort. "There's actually something I need to tell you. Which news do you want to hear?."
I raised an eyebrow. "Which news?"
"Yeah, good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?"
I crossed my arms. "Does it matter?"
Gojo's grin widened. "Well, the bad news... You're not Grade 1 anymore."
I blinked. "That's... bad?"
"Depends on how you look at it," Gojo continued, stretching his arms behind his head. "Because the good news is, you've been bumped up to Special Grade."
I stared at him, unsure how to react. "Is that supposed to be good news or bad news?"
"Well... On paper, it means you're officially one of the most dangerous sorcerers around. You've got more freedom, but you'll also be under more scrutiny. The higher-ups might be a bit more... nosy." Gojo shrugged, his grin never faltering.
I let the information settle in. "So... they're scared of me?"
Gojo chuckled, a glint of something serious in his eyes. "Maybe. Or maybe they're just trying to figure out what you are. Either way, Special Grade means you've got their attention."
I wasn't sure what to make of it. Special Grade? It felt like just another label, another way for them to control things they didn't understand.
"So," Gojo continued, "is it good news or bad news to you?"
I paused, then looked at him. "I guess it's just news."
Gojo's laugh echoed through the courtyard. "That's the spirit, Shiki!"
Gojo crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as his gaze turned a bit more curious. "You seem to be getting along with Maki, didn't think I'd see that. You two aren't exactly... alike."
I blinked, processing his words. Close? I wasn't sure if that's what I'd call it, but Maki and I worked well together. She had her own way of doing things, and I respected that.
Gojo smirked, reading my silence. "Maybe I'm wrong. But, I think it's good for you to have someone like her around. Keeps things interesting, right?"
He paused for a moment, his expression shifting to something more serious.
"Still, don't forget why you're here."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. "What do you mean?"
Gojo's grin faded, and for once, he looked as if he was choosing his words carefully. "Revenge has a way of narrowing your vision. You start seeing people as means to an end. Even someone like Maki, who could be an ally, might just become another tool in your pursuit."
"You don't have to listen to me, Shiki, but if you're going to walk this path—make sure you know where it leads. Otherwise, you might find yourself more alone than you think."
He stepped back, slipping his hands into his pockets as he began to walk away. "Not saying you need to change or anything. Just... think about it."
As he strolled off, the night air hanging heavy around us, he gave one last wave without looking back. "See you around, Special Grade."
I watched Gojo's figure fade into the distance, his words lingering in my mind.
It was advice, I suppose, but it didn't feel relevant. Revenge wasn't some heavy burden for me, and I wasn't doing this for anyone else. It was just... what I had to do.
Still, his words stuck with me, though I wasn't sure why. Something about the way he said it made me pause, but I couldn't grasp what I was supposed to take away from it. Was there something deeper there? Something I was missing?
I shook the thought away. It didn't matter. I had my purpose, and that was enough.
For now, it was enough to keep moving.