Fumiko stood still.
The cloaked figure loomed before her, towering in silence. That mask, its single, vertical slit of a mouth stretching wider now, like it was feeding on the tension.
The red cloth in its left hand writhed like a living tongue.The blue sash in its right dripped onto the floor with soft, rhythmic plinks, water or something colder.
"Choose," it hissed louder. More impatient.
Fumiko took a step back, tapping her cane against the tile.
She didn't answer.
The curse moved.
It was fast, unnaturally so, and already swinging the red cloth toward her. She ducked low, the cloth slashing overhead, carving a line into the wall with a screech of tearing stone.
She rolled, planting her cane and launching herself forward, jabbing its leg.
The impact burst with a pulse of cursed energy; sharp, focused. The spirit staggered slightly.
Not enough.
It tilted its head, that slit-mouth twitching.
She struck again, spinning, feinting, jabbing with controlled precision. The vibrations through her cane kept her centered, aware of its footwork, its attacks. For a moment, it seemed like she could win.
But then….
The red cloth split into three, each one slithering like a serpent from its sleeve. One struck at her side. Another lashed toward her face.
She blocked, barely, but her focus slipped for half a second.
Pain exploded across her ribs. She hit the floor, sliding back, gasping. Her cane clattered beside her.
"Choose." the curse rasped again.
Its shadow fell over her.
She closed her eyes. Her heart pounded.
She could use it.
Her cursed technique.
But her fingers trembled.
Not yet. Not in front of them. Not again.
Her hand hovered just above the seal at her collarbone, an old, dark mark. A binding mark.
A whisper stirred in her mind. Not the curse's voice. Her own.
Not yet. Not unless you want them to see what you really are.
Then….
"FUMIKO!!"
Yuji's voice, like a lightning bolt.
The curse snapped its head toward the sound just as a fist crashed into its mask , a brutal, explosive impact that sent it flying down the corridor.
Fumiko gasped and turned, Yuji skidded to her side.
"You okay?!"
Before she could answer, Megumi and Nobara sprinted past, weapons drawn.
"Formation B," Megumi barked.
"Got it," Nobara answered, already swinging her hammer.
The cursed spirit let out a rattled laugh as it caught its balance midair. It landed with a fluid, sickening grace, cloak billowing like wings.
It hissed with glee. It's body moving in unnatural movements as it vibrated. "More cloaks to choose from…"
Megumi unleashed a divine dog, but it fizzled out mid-summon again, interference still clouding the space.
The hallway trembled.
The red and blue lights returned, spiraling, merging, forming impossible geometries in the air.
This space was rejecting logic.
Still, they fought.
Yuji traded brutal blows with the spirit, his fists smashing the air, dodging the deadly red and blue lashes.
Megumi summoned shadows defensively, controlling the space.
Nobara used her hammer and nails to pin the cloths to walls, disrupting the curse's attacks, but the more damage they did, the more the spirit shifted, multiplying cloths, duplicating arms, splitting faces.
Fumiko stood back, eyes sharp, reading the vibrations.
Every second she didn't act, she hated herself a little more.
They were struggling. The curse was adapting. It was getting stronger. Reading them.
She could end it, maybe, if she just let go.
Just opened that door.
But…
What if they saw?
What if he saw?
What if she….
"FUMIKO!" Yuji shouted again, blood on his cheek. "We need you!"
The cursed spirit shrieked, lashing out in all directions.
It struck Nobara hard across the back. She hit the wall and crumpled.
Megumi went down next trying to block the blow.
Yuji screamed in rage, charging in, but the curse was faster now. Smarter. It twisted behind him, both cloths raised high.
"Choose!" it roared.
And then,
BOOM.
The walls shattered.
A white light tore through the hallway, and a new voice spoke, lazy, amused, but laced with undeniable power:
"Yeesh. You guys look rough."
The cursed spirit recoiled, eyes widening.
Gojo Satoru stepped through the broken wall, adjusting his blindfold, his white hair fluttering like a banner.
"Red cloak or blue cloak?" he echoed the spirit's words with a chuckle. "Tough choice."
The curse snarled.
It lunged.
"RED....!"
Gojo raised a finger. His eyes uncovered.
"Wrong answer."
The air pulsed and snapped into nothingness. A pulse of violet light bloomed between his hands: slow, beautiful, like a dying star.
"Hollow Purple."
The hallway ceased to exist.
The cursed spirit didn't even scream, it was vaporized, shredded through space and time, reduced to particles that never touched the ground.
Silence.
Smoke.
Then….
"Daaamn," Yuji muttered, picking himself up.
Nobara coughed. "Show-off…"
Megumi exhaled. "We had it under control."
Gojo strolled over, grinning. "Sure you did. But next time maybe don't answer creepy haunted fashion questions, okay?"
Fumiko hadn't moved.
She stood there, still staring at the mark on her collarbone.
Gojo's gaze shifted to her, just for a second.
He said nothing.
But his smile faded just a little.
---------------------------------------
The aftermath was quiet.
No one said much as they made their way out of the ruined building, stepping over broken tile and the lingering scent of old blood. The cursed energy had dissipated with the Hollow Purple — but something else still hung in the air. The kind of silence that clings to people who had come close to something darker than death.
Megumi walked with a slight limp, Nobara pressed an ice pack against her shoulder, and Yuji kept glancing back at Fumiko.
She was a few paces behind them.
Quiet. Expression unreadable.
Her cane clicked softly with every step, but otherwise she moved like a shadow, gliding, listening, lost in thought.
No one said anything to her.
They didn't ask why she hadn't used her technique. Why she froze. Didn't press her on what had happened when the curse cornered her alone.
They knew better. Even Yuji.
Some weight wasn't meant to be poked at right away.
So they gave her space.
The sun was setting by the time they reached the car. By the time they reached Jujutsu High, it was already dark.
Fumiko didn't go to the infirmary.
She didn't eat.
She didn't speak.
She walked straight past the others, nodding faintly when Yuji called her name, but didn't stop.
Her room door shut quietly behind her.
And stayed that way.
Inside, the light was dim, just a small lamp glowing on the desk. Her cane leaned against the wall.
Fumiko sat on the edge of her bed, still in her uniform, hands in her lap. The fight replayed again and again behind her eyes.
Her fingers twitched at phantom cloth, the scent of that red and blue energy still in her lungs.
She'd almost done it.
Almost used it.
her technique — it had stirred. That was the worst part. It wanted to be used.
It always did.
But they had come. And she'd frozen.
Not from fear of the curse.
But from fear of what the others would see when she let it out.
Would they look at her the same?
Would they still call her teammate?
Would Gojo?
Her mother looked at her differently after the first time she used it. Why wouldn't they?
A knock.
Five sharp taps at her door. She stiffened. She wasn't ready to talk to anyone. Most especially him.
"…Fumiko? You up?"
She didn't answer.
The door creaked open anyway.
Gojo's familiar voice floated in, light and casual.
"Not very polite of me, huh? You know how it is. Doors are just suggestions when you're me."
She stayed seated, facing away.
He stepped inside, then leaned against the wall, folding his arms.
Silence stretched.
"I thought I'd find you brooding," he said eventually. "You've got that 'emotionally tormented anime side character' vibe going."
Still nothing.
Gojo tilted his head. "Want to talk about it?"
She shook her head.
He gave a long, theatrical sigh. "Well, I want to talk about it. That was a pretty nasty curse today. You handled yourself well."
She looked up slightly, surprised. "…I didn't do anything."
"Didn't you?" He pushed off the wall, walking slowly across the room.
"You stayed calm. Read the terrain. Warned the others. Didn't get anyone killed. I'd call that a win."
"But I froze," she said quietly.
He stopped a few feet away.
"I should've used it. I could've finished the fight before anyone got hurt. But I—". She cut herself off, teeth clenching. "I couldn't. I… wouldn't."
Gojo watched her for a moment. Then he sat down next to her. He didn't smile.
"I know."
Fumiko's breath caught. She turned toward him, eyes narrow. "You know?"
"I know somethings. But not everything. You're mother wrote about it in her letter," he said simply. "Your incidents. You're trouble controlling it. Your fear about using it."
He leaned forward slightly. "I know about your technique. And I know what it costs you to keep it sealed."
Fumiko stared at him.
Then looked away.
"…Then why let me in?"
"Because strength isn't about what you can unleash," he said. "It's about what you choose not to."
She blinked, startled.
Gojo continued, quieter now. "I've seen enough sorcerers who lose themselves the second they taste power. You? You're scared of it. That's not weakness. That's restraint."
"But what if one day it's too late?" she whispered. "What if I wait too long? What if next time, I don't freeze, I lose control instead?"
Gojo stood, brushing off imaginary dust from his jacket."Well, then…" he said, stretching, "that's why you're training. Why you've got a team. Why you've got me."
He looked back at her, just a flicker of seriousness behind the blindfold.
"You're not alone in this."
Fumiko's shoulders dropped, just slightly.
"Get some sleep," he added, turning toward the door. "And hey, next time someone asks you red or blue?"
He grinned. "Tell them you're with Gojo Satoru."
The door clicked shut behind him. Fumiko sat in silence for a moment longer.
Then she reached into her collar. Touched the old seal across her skin.
Felt it pulse, faintly. Alive. Waiting.
But it was quiet, for now.
And for the first time in hours… so was she.