The moon hung heavy over Jujutsu High's quiet rooftops, casting its pale light across the courtyard like a soft shroud. The night breeze swept through the trees, rustling leaves like whispered confessions. Beneath that sky, Kishibe walked alone.
Earlier that day had been typical—training with the others, Geto quoting some obscure scripture to make a point during sparring, Gojo nearly leveling a training dummy with an unstable Red technique. But Kishibe barely registered the present. What lingered was the weight of something older.
---
Flashback - Years Ago
The streets Kishibe grew up in weren't places meant for children. Moldy walls, shattered bottles, the constant drone of shouting from cracked windows. His mother—tired, thin, and barely surviving—worked nights, giving everything she had to keep them fed. She never complained. She never got the chance.
The man had followed her home once. A regular. A violent one. Kishibe was only eleven, hiding in the bathroom when he heard her screams. The world cracked open when it went silent.
He waited for the man to leave. Kishibe tracked his movements with a butcher's instinct, following him to a filthy public toilet a few nights later. There was no plan. Only the kitchen knife in his hands and the fury pressing against his ribs.
He didn't just stab him. He severed him. With that single, fatal act, something deep in him snapped awake. The man's cursed energy unraveled—flesh severed by the blade, spirit wiped clean from the ether. Severance, his cursed technique, had awakened not with training, but with murder.
When they found him, days later, the man's corpse was headless, slumped on the floor. And Kishibe had vanished.
---
Flashback - Continued
He was alone in the city for weeks. Sleeping beneath bridges, hunting pigeons and rats to eat. That's when Yaga found him. The man had a presence that silenced the noise.
"Kid like you shouldn't be out here alone," Yaga said, kneeling beside him.
"I'm not a kid," Kishibe spat, face gaunt and hollow.
Yaga didn't flinch. "You used cursed energy. Traced it from that body. I cleaned it up. But if someone else had found you…"
Kishibe said nothing.
Yaga reached into his coat, pulling out a flask. "You're not the first broken kid I've seen. But you're the first one who didn't just defend themselves—you hunted someone."
"Deserved it."
"Yeah. He did."
Kishibe blinked. That wasn't the answer he expected.
Yaga stood. "Come with me. You don't owe anyone anything—but if you want to learn how to survive what's coming next, I'll teach you."
That night, under broken streetlights, Kishibe followed him.
---
Present Day - 2006, Jujutsu High
The courtyard was still. Kishibe sat beneath a stone lantern, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate strokes. Geto approached, hands in his sleeves, watching the moonlight glint off the edge.
"You always do that when you're restless," Geto remarked.
"Better than pacing."
They sat in silence for a while. Unlike Gojo, Geto didn't fill the air with noise. When he finally spoke, it was with purpose.
"There's a mission tomorrow. Some cursed womb activity out in Tochigi. Yaga wants us three to handle it together."
"Together, huh?"
Geto nodded. "He's been saying it for a while now. That we're strong apart, but unstoppable together."
Kishibe gave a dry laugh. "We're monsters."
"Monsters," Geto repeated. "Maybe. But monsters can still protect people."
A beat of silence. Then, Geto asked, "You ever regret it?"
Kishibe stopped sharpening his blade.
"Living?"
"No," Geto said. "Surviving."
Kishibe looked up at the stars, his expression unreadable. "Sometimes. But I figure if I'm still breathing, it's for a reason."
---
The Next Day - Mission Field
The trio moved in formation through the forest. Gojo took point, bounding between trees with unrestrained energy. Geto was methodical, scanning the cursed residue. Kishibe walked with the calm of someone who didn't flinch at violence—he expected it.
The cursed womb they encountered was grotesque—a thing of rotting limbs and malformed faces. It screeched, spitting black bile.
"Gross," Gojo muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Kishibe, wanna open?"
Kishibe didn't respond. He lunged.
His blade sliced through the bile midair, the cursed energy around the womb beginning to fray.
"Don't let it regenerate!" Geto warned.
"I won't," Kishibe said, then struck again. This time, his cursed energy surged. The Severance technique activated—the cursed energy anchoring the womb snapped apart like frayed thread. The creature collapsed, inert.
"Still scary when you do that," Gojo whistled. "It's like watching the universe hiccup."
As they made their way deeper into the forest, Gojo walked beside him.
"You never said why you joined the school," he said casually.
Kishibe grunted. "Didn't have anywhere else to go."
"Still. Yaga must've seen something in you."
"Or he pitied me."
"Nah. He's too much of a hardass for pity. He took you in because he believed you'd survive."
Kishibe glanced at him. "You're too damn optimistic."
"I'm realistic. You just don't believe in yourself yet."
Kishibe didn't answer, but the silence between them this time wasn't empty.