The file? Yeah, locked up tight in the Headmaster's secret stash, where only the "chosen" get to peek. Naturally, Gojo broke in and swiped it like it was a bag of chips.
"Don't say I never hook you up," he'd joked, flashing that cocky grin as he lobbed Akashi ,a flashdrive wrapped in some ominous black charm. Classic Gojo.
So now here's Akashi, sitting alone in the Kyoto dorms, the only soundtrack the low buzz of cursed energy crawling over every slide on the projector. Spooky stuff. At the top, stamped all official and ominous:
PROJECT NINE-TONGUE: Classified Curse Integration Trials
Subject 07: Yukari Ryuunosuke (Human-Vessel Hybrid, Grade: Obscured)
Everything was spelled out, right there. No sugarcoating, no escape hatch. Turns out, his mom? Not just a sorcerer. Nah, she was basically a living lockbox. A human safe with a ticking timer.
"Seven tongues sealed. Nine designed. Two born human. Only one survived full resonance: Yukari Ryuunosuke."
But the real gut punch? Some shaky handwriting in red, like it'd been scrawled during a thunderstorm:
"She knew the risks. She wanted her son to be the last one."
Outside the Dorms – Midnight
Akashi drifted, legs on autopilot, along that old Kyoto Temple path. Half of him was somewhere else. That's when he heard it—a cane, slow and steady, tapping out its own rhythm on the gravel. Old dude in ceremonial robes, slouched under a weeping sakura, eyes covered up like he and Gojo swapped style tips.
Without looking, the man spoke. "You look just like her."
Akashi's heart stuttered. "You knew my mom?"
The old man didn't jump to answer. Just unwrapped a bundle from his sleeve, slow and almost reverent. Inside: a spiral medallion, black jade, looking like it could swallow light.
"She gave it to me when she was seventeen," he murmured. "Said if her kid ever woke up the Brand, I should give it back."
He dropped it into Akashi's palm.
Boom—cursed energy flared up his arm. Suddenly, he saw her: Yukari, lab coat slicked with blood, smiling soft and dangerous, lips moving in a whisper he couldn't quite grab.
"She loved you," the old man said, voice like gravel. "Even when that Spiral started eating away her words. Even when the higher-ups wanted to scrap the whole thing. She fought tooth and nail."
Akashi's grip tightened on the jade. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
The mood shifted. Shadows got heavier.
"Because what she died to hide? Could wipe out Jujutsu High. Even the Curse King's bloodline might not survive."
Akashi's eyes went huge. "You mean—Sukuna?"
The old man snorted, slow and bitter. "No. Someone worse. Someone everyone's desperate to forget."
Wind picked up, and just like that, the cherry blossoms turned black and curled in on themselves, like the air itself was poisoned.
"She wasn't sealing a technique," the old guy said. "She was sealing a name."
And in the Spiral, names? Oh, they're heavy.
That Night: Akashi's Dream
He's in a temple made of mirrors. Every reflection is him, but warped—some with spirals cracked open, others twisted and monstrous. Only one mirror's clean, not a scratch.
His mom's inside, back turned, covered in scripture that glows like embers.
He reaches for her—
She spins around.
Her mouth is sewn shut with thorns, red and raw.
Akashi jolted awake, sweat-soaked and clutching that jade medallion like it was the last lifeline on earth.
From the dark, Gojo's voice slipped in, almost gentle:
"You're gonna have to pick a side, Akashi."
He stepped into the moonlight, for once unmasked—those eyes, man, like staring into the cosmos.
"Protect the system that buried her… or tear it all down."
Akashi stared at the medallion. At his own cursed hand. Then, back at Gojo.
"I'm done hiding. I'm gonna scorch the truth into the world."