▪and they would get violent▪
《 underestimate her.
please.
--in the end
you'll never see her coming. 》
DISCLAIMER : Under no circumstances do I own Jujutsu Kaisen, nor its characters. I only own the plot of this story, with the r...
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He watches the approaching form with hooded eyes. Here comes a woman bearing six of the King of curses' fingers in a paper bag. Here comes a woman with blood clinging to her once immaculate shirt like a second skin. Here comes a woman that defies everything he represents.
They stand face to face, a few feet apart. Her lips are still curled in that damned smile, and there's a certain edge to it. She looks at him then, the one Kugisaki (Y/N). There is something in those eyes of hers that he cannot quite put his crooked finger on. Almost a warning. Get in my way and see what happens, she seems to say.
Wary.
Yoshinobu Gakuganji is wary.
That's why he tells her to take care of the trembling curse user sprawled at his feet. Orders her, really. And she, the compliant hound, obeys. She knows better than to defy his authority, doesn't she? (For how long, he doesn't know.)
So, she bows curtly through greeted teeth and on she goes, following the steps of the two uneasy auxiliary managers carrying the curse user.
He watches her frame fade in the distance.
He doesn't like it.
He doesn't like the coldness of her eyes. Doesn't like the practiced ease with which she carries herself. Doesn't like the blade at her hip with a bloodied scabbard— he doesn't like the reminder that she is no weakling. But what he loathes is this. He doesn't know when she'll cease to obey, doesn't know why she obeys in the first place — and this unpredictability of hers is too dangerous.
Measures must be taken.
Ω
His teeth sink in his lower lip. There he stands, in front of a secluded room in the depths of jujutsu tech. There is a stack of papers cradled in his arm — all for one and the same person. Among this mass of reports, an envelope. He does not know what it contains. Only that it is of the same shade as a heavy file, once laid out in Yaga's office a few weeks ago. However, he knows this means trouble and can't help but hope he's wrong.
A glance at his watch.
Ijichi Kiyotaka wonders how much longer he'll have to wait. It isn't that he grows impatient. Waiting comes with the job, so he's gotten used to it. They¸ the shamans in a meeting room a few hallways from there, aren't. They're still waiting for whatever information the curse user can provide.
The door slides open. Ah, it didn't take that long—
"I assume those are for me."
Leaning on the doorframe is Kugisaki (Y/N), with a small smile curling up her lips.
His eyes widen. There is blood everywhere. It drenches her once immaculate shirt, the fabric clinging to her, strands of hair damp with it, black heels leaving a bloody imprint in their wake. Droplets fall from her arm, drenching the floor beneath— she's injured, there's a gaping gash on her forearm.
