July 11th, 1979, Sendai

  What goes up must come down.

  It was a fundamental rule of the universe that she knew well. She couldn’t remember when she learned about this rule, probably from one of her teachers. She had asked them a few times if any exceptions to this rule existed, but each and every one readily said no such thing existed. Suspecting they all might be conspiring to hide the exception's existence from her. She had gone about and asked a few of her classmates about it. They all said the same thing; there was no exception to this fundamental rule.

  Having been denied this exception's existence by her parents, the young girl had stormed off into the backyard with a pout on her face. Her frustration has reached a tipping point. Sitting down next to a tree looking towards her home, the girl had no choice but but to accept that no such exception existed.

  A jokester in her class had mentioned it did in fact exist only in the form of a superpower villains had. Causing things to float in the air for any number of nefarious reasons. If such an ability only existed in fantasy, and reality where she resided had no place for this fiction. Then why…

  Reaching behind her, the girl picked at the tree that had become her rest post. Grabbing some specs of bark off of it. The girl held them out in front of her, looking down at the fragments of wood that rested in her palm. Tentatively she tried to do what she had done a few days prior, performing what she could only call a cheat upon the world.

  She focused on her hand, trying to clench while holding her palm open. Creating tension through her hand. From there she called upon the unknown force that resided within her, a force that had no name. She had become aware of the force by accident, having tripped and then channeled the force on instinct.

  The force gathered in her palm and then dispersed; a few moments went by where nothing changed. Her hand hung in the air outstretched with bark resting on it. Then the bark suddenly began moving upwards, traveling in a straight line towards the sky. Its pace was anything but quick, moving at a speed that wouldn’t stir a snail's jealousy. As she watched the pieces of wood well up towards the sky, the energy she had gathered within her palm began to lessen. Expanding itself was a cost of maintaining this ability she had found.

  Seeing someone from her home slowly opening the door to the backyard, the girl quickly snatched the bark she had made float from the air. Placing her arms at her side after she was done.

  “Kaori, come on in. Dinner'ss done.”

  “Alright,, Mom.”

  Kaori’s mother closed the door behind her as she went. Unaware of the ability her daughter just displayed. Kaori wasn’t sure why she had been given this mystical ability, but she knew better than to tell anyone. Maybe she was just being overly cautious, but she didn’t want to become labeled as a freak.

  She just wanted to live a normal life, like everyone else. The powers she had been granted could go back to wherever it came from from.

  November 17th, 2018, Aomori colony

  Waking up on a bed made out of stone, he began using a minimal output of reserve cursed technique to heal the soreness. It was a cheat he had learned from one sorcerer in particular during the Muromachi period. Their overall skill was unremarkable, but they were crafty with there application of sorcery. It captivated the man’s interest for a day or so before he grew bored of his tricks; they all often revolved around the same note and became uninteresting after you had seen them a few dozen times.

  Carrying on with his morning routine. The man reached into his robes and pulled out a rather large tome, flipping through the pages till he reached a page near the end. Once he had made it to his selected page, he began by jotting down a date some fifty some years ago. Describing a small scene in vivid detail.

  “What are you doing,, Kenjaku?”

  Materializing to Kenjaku’s flank, the creator of the Jujutsu society appeared. Floating a few feet off the ground and staring at Kenkaku puzzlingly with all four of their eyes.

  “It’s a hobby of mine. Every so often I get dreams containing memories from the people I’ve inhabited throughout the years. I started keeping a catalog of them a few centuries ago to see if I could distinguish a pattern,” Kenjaku continued writing as he spoke, only half paying attention to the conversation. Intent on jotting down the details before they faded from his mind.

  “You absorb your vessels' memories when you merge. How frequently do you dream of their memories?”

  “I evolved past the point of sleep long ago.”

  “I see what a bummer,” Kenjaku let out an exasperated sigh, closing the book as he finished writing.

  Kenjaku stood up and walked out of the room he was in, reaching a hallway and then turning left. He felt Tengen vanish as he did so; Kenjaku was curious how they were able to do that. Curse spirits all tended to be mindless with the exception of the group he had used to seal this generation's six eyes. Whenever subjugating them through cursed spirit manipulation, he had always assumed any semblance of personality and will they had would be removed.

  Tengen clearly still was capable of conscious thought, going even further beyond that;; they had appeared of their own volition and seemed aware of the conversation. Did that mean every cursed spirit he possessed was constantly aware of the outside world from his general perception? In the near future, Kenjaku resolved himself to find a cursed spirit of intelligence so he could find the answers to such trivial questions; Tengen wasn’t a big enough sample size. One probably wouldn’t be enough either; two would be needed in order to mak--

  “What do you want?”

  A soft yet icy-cold voice stirred him back to reality. Looking around, Kenjaku saw he had wandered to his room of destination without thinking. Uruame was a few dozen feet in front of him, their gaze having stayed focused on their current task despite noticing Kenjaku.

  They had conjured two decently sized blocks of ice and were using them as tables, blood flowing off of the icy surface and onto the floor. Dyeing the area around the icy sorcerer a crimson red. Uruame was holding comically large meat cleavers in both of their hands, each being three feet long. Despite their length, they were able to utilize both of the blades masterfully, directing them precisely how they wanted them.

  Setting their blades down on the table in front of them, they grabbed what Kenjaku assumed to be a leg and placed it on the block of ice a few feet to the left of them. Over a dozen different masses of flesh were placed on that ice block; each had undergone Uruame’s typical preparation. Flaying them first, then picking out the bone, and finally adding dense muscles from “unappetizing” parts of the body to the missing space where the bones used to reside. They had told Kenjaku it was done to improve the quality of the meal, similar to how you add ingredients to a burrito.

  Kenjaku looked back to Uruame’s original table; there was still the upper half of a body that remained untouched. A sign they were almost done. He was also able to notice something wrapped up in a curse-sealing parchment. Resting in the corner of the block of ice.

  “That’s a bit much, don’t you think? Though I admit Sukuna becoming bloated would be quite the sight to behold,” snickering as he spoke, Kenjaku expressed his mild surprise at how much food was prepared.

  “So we’re clear, Kenjaku. Lord Sukuna would never become bloated. So still whatever annoying, tedious, and utterly frivolous test you just thought of doing,” Picking up their cleavers, Uruame got back to work as she ridiculed Kenjaku. Cutting the head off of the half corpse that remained.

  “But my annoying, tedious, and utterly frivolous tests are so much fun. Come now, you mean you're not curious to see if Sukuna will hold the same presence if he’s chubby?”

  “As for the quantity of the meal I’m preparing. This will be Lord Sukuna’s first meal in over a millennia, now that he’s obtained full control over his vessel. I thought a feast was in order to celebrate,” Uruame purposely ignored Kenjaku’s question as they answered his previous one. Proceeding to cut through the head a few inches down the top, carefully removing the brain before beginning to extract the outer shell of the skull.

  “Things are nearing their completion at long last, so perhaps a celebratory feast is in order. Where is Sukuna anyway?”

  “Lord Sukuna went into the bath after he woke. He wished to ensure control of his vessel would be his with no question.” Having finished removing the skull, Uruame carefully placed the brain back into the empty head. Then started creating tiny rods of ice and placing them on the exposed flesh of the head facing upwards. Finally the section of the head that had been removed was placed back into it, sinking into the icy rods and connecting.

  “I see. That wrapping, I take it the remaining fingers are inside it. I’m hurt you never told me you were gathering them; we’ve spent so much time together this past year I thought we were finally becoming close,” Kenjku said, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

  “... Answer my question already, vermin.” Uruame placed the nearly finished head on the “done” table. Not once looking away from her task and giving Kenjaku a fraction more of their attention than needed.

  “Ah. What I wanted, yes? Well, I mostly wished to inform you of something rather important.”

  “Then hurry up and do so,” Their voice had remained indifferent just as it had throughout their conversation thus far, but it held a bit more urgency than before. A subtle difference Kenjau had begun to pick up on after years spent around them, one he was glad had shown itself.

  “Sheesh, you could at least pretend to like me or get better at holding back your jealousy,” letting out a small sigh. Kenjaku lamented on Uruame’s harsh treatment towards him. Kenjaku honestly didn’t know whether it was hatred or jealousy that drove them to despise him. Both were equally valid possibilities; he had spent a decent amount of their time trying to decipher which one it was. Though he had ended up realizing mentioning either one was enough to rile them up, which was enough.

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  “The only emotion I feel towards you is that of repulsion, similar to how one might look at a bug. Now speak what you want to and leave.” Uruame’s voice took a turn from cold indifference to just cold. No longer caring if Kenjaku noticed they were agitated if it made them leave sooner.

  Kenjaku had to stifle a chuckle at how easy it was to inflame their emotions. It was a game he often played for no reason other than he could. He was sure Uruame knew he did it on purpose, but their loyalty to Sukuna prevented them from doing anything harmful to him. A fact he loved to exploit.

  “I take it you’ve managed to find all of Sukuna’s remaining fingers except one?”

  Uruame didn’t answer, but the way their movements stopped was indicative of one. They turned around and finally met Kenjaku’s gaze, the two giant meat cleavers still in their hands. They had created a layer of ice covering their front, like an apron. It had served its purpose and was dyed red with blood. It gave Uruame the appearance of a crazed serial killer; Kenjaku had to stifle a laugh at the observation.

  “And why might that be?” Glaring daggers at Kenjaku, Uruame didn’t bother concealing the anger in their voice as they asked.

  “I didn’t want to expend that many cursed spirits to kill off the soldiers. So I fed the cursed spirit and sent him to a colony,” Kenjaku said with a shrug. A moment later he felt his body cool, breath becoming visible in the air.

  “I may have misheard you; would you care to repeat yourself?” Speaking through clenched teeth, the source of the drop in temperature gripped down on their cutting tools. Crushing the handles and causing them to fall to the floor.

  “Sukuna’s last remaining finger is out somewhere in the colonies,” Kenjaku said with a smile.

  Or if things are going how I hoped they would, with someone.

  “You…”

  Uruame’s anger only grew at Kenjaku’s blunt phrasing of the situation. The air is becoming even colder, and their gaze becoming sharper. Kenjaku merely smiled innocently in response, not bothering to conceal his intent.

  “I should kill you.”

  “Oh no, whatever will I do?” Kenjaku held his hands up in mock surrender.

  “You think I can’t?” Uruame spoke with a challenge in their voice, prepared to fight if need be.

  “Oh no, I’m positive that if we were to fight, you would defeat me, but you won’t for the same reason you spared me all those centuries ago. Your death would never bring Sukuna happiness. That was your reasoning, yes? Some strange belief that your precious Sukuna would find this thing known as “happiness” in this age.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to imagine someone being able to find something you never will, but do try to keep an open mind.” Uruame smiled softly, their voice becoming lighter.

  “Ouch, no need to be so harsh,” Kenjaku said while frowning. Acting like he was hurt by the remark.

  “Anyway, I almost forgot. I wanted to tell you how you could go fetch Sukuna’s finger for him.” Kenjaku conjured a small cursed spirit; it looked like an ordinary bird aside from purple skin.

  “This cursed spirit’s more attuned to cursed energy than most and is capable of sensing it from far away. Follow it and you’ll be led to wherever the finger is.”

  “You should go and procure Lord Sukuna’s finger. You’re the one who used it.”

  “Indeed I am, but you see I have my own errand I have to run,” Kenjaku began to walk away, moving towards the entrance.

  He felt Uruame’s gaze on his back, but they didn’t say anything further. As he reached the outside, Kenjaku conjured a giant fish. Jumping onto it as it began to swim upwards towards the sky.

  “Kogane, which colony are the players Amari Mome and Akimitsu Haru in?”

  “Amari Mome is in the Morioka colony. While Akimitsu Haru is in Tokyo's number one colony.”

  “Thank you, that will be all.” Kogane vanished as Kenjaku dismissed it, its purpose fulfilled. Kenjaku began to will his cursed spirit to fly towards the Morioka colony; it would take him about a day and a half to get there.

  So Shinji went from Nagoya to Tokyo. If things had taken a day longer to progress, then that would have been quite the spectacle. Higiruma is still in Tokyo; hopefully Shinji doesn't kill him. It would be a waste for someone with his talent to die before I can observe them. With any luck he’ll have taken Sukuna’s finger and run into Uruame soon; they’ll probably realize who he is and then bring them back here. With any luck I’ll have brought her back before then.

  Kenjaku smiled, a genuine one born from an understanding of what was about to unfold. The seeds he had diligently planted over a millennia ago were finally about to bloom; Though he knew with near certainty how that particular flower would sprout. There was a far more unlikely option, but regardless, it would be one of those two. A third option was nearly impossible; few things in this world had ever gone in ways that Kenjaku hadn’t already assumed they would. Though rare outliers that strayed off their path before he put them back on it cropped up every now and then. Even still, it always would end the same, how he thought it would.

  What a bore.

  That damned walking corpse.

  Clicking their tongue in irritation, Uruame tried their best to calm down. There was little point in staying mad at Kenjaku; nothing productive would come from it. Still, they had a hard time staying true to such rationality given how insufferable he was. Glancing towards the cage of ice they had made, the cursed bird Kenjaku had given them kept trying to fly out in the same direction. If nothing else he wasn’t lying about the bird leading them to Lord Sukuna’s finger.

  Uruame sighed as they tried to refocus themselves on the task at hand; they had a very important meal they had to finish cooking after all. They looked towards the ice block which held the body parts that were ready to be cooked, eighteen pieces… So maybe they had gone a little overboard. It was their first time cooking for Lord Sukuna in years; they couldn’t help but be excited.

  Uruame had gone out and killed the group of players while Sukuna was cementing his vessel as his. They hadn’t been instructed by Sukuna to do so, or even prepare them a meal. Uruame simply had done so because they wanted to. It brought them joy to please the demon king; with that joy came an equal amount of shame. For they knew their cooking would never amount to anything more beyond simply pleasing him, as if simply pleasing him would ever be enough to return everything they had done for them.

  Shelving such thoughts of their own inadequacy, Uruame quickly created a furnace of ice. Though that might have been giving it too much praise. It was just a square block of ice that was hollow on the inside; the side of the block that faced Uruame wasn’t present and served as an entryway to the hollow inside. The top of the block was constructed out of lines of ice similar to a grill.

  Uruame grabbed four body parts they had prepared and placed them on top of the makeshift stove. Then they moved around to the side of the block that wasn’t there and placed their hands inside. Creating a small fire a moment later. Stepping back, Uruame took a furtive glance towards the bath chamber. Letting out a sigh of relief upon seeing no one before looking back towards the grill.

  The fire was burning nicely and the body parts began to cook. The flame barely reached the icy stovetop. Merely simmering the bottom of the meat. Miraculously the flames weren’t melting the ice; instead, the ice actually grew hotter and stayed hot. It was a simple trick Uruame could perform by continuously running cursed energy through the ice, strengthening it and making it heat resistant. It burnt through cursed energy fairly quickly, but Uruame had so much that they could continue this trick for days.

  Coating their hands in ice Uruame rolled the body parts around so they were evenly cooked; after the first batch was done, they set them aside on a new block of ice before beginning another and so on. Every now and again, Uruame looked towards the bath chamber to see if Sukuna showed any signs of coming out. He had told them he would bathe for a few hours, and that had been nearly an hour and a half ago.

  Uruame had finished all but the batch of body parts that were currently on the grill. They had run a little behind schedule thanks to Kenjaku’s annoying intervention, but there was still time left to finish Sukuna’s meal and return to the bath to await him to surface.

  The minutes ticked by, and Uruame had finished cooking everything. The icy stove and fire they had made dispelling themselves. Uruame took a moment to arrange the meal to Sukuna’s liking, which consisted of placing the same type of body part next to one another--He had never cared about presentation. Finally, they placed the wrapping- which held the last four of five fingers-on the side of the icy table they had crafted.

  Uruame took a step back as he looked over everything a final time, ensuring that everything was placed with perfection. A small smile of satisfaction crossed their lips before they began walking towards the bath, only making it about halfway there before their eyes widened with surprise.

  Sukuna had walked into the doorway from the steps below. Dressed in a bathrobe and their hair was still damp, clinging to their head. Uruame immediately dropped to a knee, bowing their head as they adverted their gaze. They cursed themselves internally for having made such a blunder. If only that wretched man hadn’t wasted their time.

  “Forgive me for not being present when you emerged. I’ll accept whatever punishment you deem necessary.”

  “It’s fine, Uruame. You were far from needed. Go about and prepare me a meal…”

  Sukuna stopped abruptly. Uruame didn’t look up to see his face, but they could only assume he noticed they had been doing as he had intended to instruct. Uruame heard him begin to move as they stayed kneeling.

  “As always, you know what I want before I say it. You should have waited for me to cook it; I know you dislike using your flames.”

  “It’s fine… I wanted to surprise you.”

  Ururame felt a soft hand palm their head. The hand then lifted up before going down; it repeated this pattern a few times before stopping. The head pats ended as quickly as they began—far too soon.

  “I admit you succeeded on that front, and I’m grateful like always for your diligence. If you feel comfortable with using them I won’t ask you not to; just don’t feel pressured to do so for my sake.”

  Uruame was grateful they had prostrated themselves; it made it rather easy to conceal the rabid blush on their face. Uruame was tempted to reply in the affirmative, but they were fearful they wouldn’t be able to hide their current excitement very well.

  They waited a moment before standing up, moving towards Sukuna, who neared the location of their meal with energetic steps. After Sukuna reached the table, they grabbed one of the four heads, taking a bite out of the back of it to start with.

  Sukuna ate at a leisurely pace; the grotesque noise of flesh being chewed filled the air. Uruame stood a few feet behind Sukuna as he ate, their cheeks still a tad rosy from his earlier praise. They waited until Sukuna finished the head before speaking again. In part to not disrupt his meal and to clear their head.

  “The wrap contains four of your fingers. Kenjaku has been in possession of the last one and released it within a cursed spirit three days ago… It will take me a few days, but I should be able to retrieve it,” Uruame spoke hesitantly about Kenjaku’s actions. Taking care to not let their hate for the man cloud their voice.

  “Where is Kenjaku now?”

  “I’m not sure. He supplied me with a cursed spirit to help locate your finger, then told me there was an errand he had to run.” Uruame gestured towards the caged bird; Sukuna turned towards it for a moment before looking at Uruame.

  “I see. Is the reason you prepared so much because you’ll be gone for some time?”

  Inquiring about the feast they had made for him, Uruame could only fidget under his gaze. He typically only ate two to three body parts for a meal after fighting; Uruame normally made around six in the morning. Sukuna’s technique made reheating his meal to eat later very easy, so making more than he could have to finish hours or days later was common. Still, very rarely had Uruame ever made as much as they had now. Typically only doing so after Sukuna had fought large groups of sorcerers.

  “No, Kenjaku told me about the finger while I was preparing the meal. I just thought a feast was in order to celebrate your liberation from Yuji Itadori.” It wasn’t a lie, just a half-truth. Uruame didn’t feel the need to tell him they had gotten ahead of themselves.

  Sukuna seemed to believe what they had said, or if he didn’t, he made no show of it. Merely saying “I understand” in response. Turning back the table, he unwrapped his fingers and began to swallow them one after another.

  Uruame watched as he ingested the fragments of his soul, their hands restless as they gripped each other. Thinking about how they would have to go get the last one. An egregiously selfish thought crossed their mind, one they knew they shouldn’t act on. It was their place to follow Sukuna and do their best to follow his wishes. What they wanted to suggest would run against every last one of his desires. It would be the last thing Sukuna would ever want.

  “If you wish, I could stay here and look for more high-quality ingredients. I was unable to find anything quite like what I previously had to work with in the Heian era.” Knowing all this, Uruame made their selfish suggestion.

  “No, that will be fine. What you’ve made here is splendid enough; I’d rather you collect the last finger. I’m going to be looking through this new body’s memories to see if there's anything of note. He's close to this age’s strongest; I’m curious to find out more about him.”

  “... I wish you the best of luck in doing so, Lord Sukuna. I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

  Uruame said their goodbye as they moved towards the caged bird. Freeing it from its confinement as the cage vanished. As it did so, an icy shackle formed around the bird's leg, a thin, flexible string of ice connecting back to Uruame’s hand. As soon as the bird was freed, it began to frantically fly to the entrance. Uruame followed the bird, taking its route to find Sukuna’s finger.

  Uruame looked behind them as they left, looking towards Sukuna. He didn’t pay any mind to his departing servant; instead, he had begun to eat an arm this time. His pace was much slower than it had been for the head. Uruame wasn’t surprised he had denied their proposal. They had tried several other times to enact plans to fulfill their selfish wish, all of which had ended in failure.

  Ryomen Sukuna was a being whose name was spoken scarcely, for it was simply a testament to how truly fearsome he was. Someone who has single-handedly brought the Fujiwara’s empire to its end in a single day. From then forth he lived his life during the Heian era as a king, worshiped and revered by all. He was the king of curses, a title that had been bestowed upon him by the dying breath of sinful man. A title that ironically described Ryomen Sukuna better than any other words could. The meaning behind his title had changed from when it had been given to him, but it fit him even better because of it.

  Uruame was one of the few people who were privy to the history of Ryomen Sukuna’s title. A history Kenjaku had told them merely because he was curious how they would react. Upon hearing the history of the king of curses, it was when Uruame’s selfish desire was born. Uruame knew better than anyone the type of person Ryomen Sukuna was, perhaps even better than the king himself.

  It was through this understanding that they knew what they had been attempting to accomplish for years could be considered the greatest of betrayals to the person who had given their life purpose. Even still, they pushed forward, desperate to make their dream a reality.

  The same way he had set them free from their own curse, Uruame had dedicated their life to returning the favor. The curse that bound the king, the curse that he himself didn’t know he carried. Uruame would cast that curse off him if it was the last thing they did.