The curse spirit doesn 't make a move to flinch out of the way. It doesn 't make a move at all other than stare at him with dark eyes. It is the human kind of eyes. The kind that makes Satoru think he can tear them out and it 'd leave behind blood instead of regenerating like cursed spirits do.

It stands unnaturally still, like a statue but not because its chest was still rising and falling. Like the motions of human life but wrong because it wasn 't. It also blinks in a steady pattern, it is unnatural how it does so. The intervals between its blinks are almost identical. It is a poor attempt at mimicking a human, Satoru thinks. It is like it knows that humans blink, but it does not know why or how and is putting conscious effort in doing so.

It says he is a stalker, Satoru thinks he should be offended.

'Wow, that 's super rude, ' Satoru says and watches as its eyebrows rise in real time.

It studies him and his reaction, almost like it was memorizing it.

Why? Satoru doesn 't know. There are a multitude of reasons. He is the strongest, he is the deadliest to its kind, he is annoying, he is handsome, there are a thousand and one reasons. It studies him regardless, like he is something to behold.

Satoru wants to preen, just a little. Like a peacock. Nanami would call him vain, but Satoru thinks it 's good that he 's handsome enough to get to be vain.

'I don 't do polite, ' it replies. Satoru doesn 't doubt that. It doesn 't look like it does polite or formal or anything nice at all.

'Maybe you should, ' Satoru drawls. 'Having manners is good. ' Satoru has heard this one too many times to not know how exactly to say it to cause maximum annoyance.

'Anyone can lecture me on politeness, none of them is you, ' the curse replies easily. And there it is again, that easy familiarity. Like it knows Satoru somehow. Like it is a relationship forged out of years and years of ribbing instead of a single conversation talked with a teenager in the middle to mediate.

It looks at Satoru like he is a comrade, he looks at it like it is a glass cup and he is a cat.

There is a disconnect here, Satoru doesn 't think he should correct it. It is favorable towards him. It doesn 't see him as a threat, strangely enough. Or at least not mainly a threat. Its body is still as a statue, but not in the kind that it is ready to bolt. But rather just its natural state of being. Stiff as a board, even when facing Yuuji.

It is unnatural and it reminds Satoru that this was a curse standing in front of him. The human having long been washed out and replaced.

'Me in particular? I 'm flattered, ' Satoru croons. It is verging on annoyingly high pitch for a voice like his. He knows how to work his voice to be crooningly frustrating. It comes with practice and elders have gone mad for less. The curse does not react the way he thinks it should. Its lips are leaning on fond and even when its eyebrows furrow in dislike, it lips tell a different story.

It is a thing of contradictions.

'It 's an insult, you shouldn 't be, ' the curse replies steadily. It is inflectionless, Satoru notices. There is no particular note to its voice other than the echo of it in the winds. No visible cracks in its mirror other than the time when it talked to Satoru with an aching familiarity.

It has a voice that sounds like it 's prone for emotions. Raspy with an edge too angry for it to be neutrally placid like it is now. It is an act, Satoru thinks. An incredibly unnatural but hard to crack one. It is hard to crack at a wall when there are no visible nooks and cranny to start at. You know the wall is terribly unnatural, but there 's nothing you can do to draw out the thing behind the wall. It is that kind of taunting.

Satoru was always good at blasting through them anyways, and he thinks that this one will only be slightly annoying.

'You speak like you know me, ' Satoru drawls. It is not a nice thing. 'Should I be worried that you 're stalking me, too? '

It blinks. It is out of rhythm now. The steady intervals a thing of the past, the patterns disrupted. It blinks again, and then again after that. And then once more the intervals are nearly identical. Once more it is a thing of stone and marble.

If Satoru was anyone else he wouldn 't even notice the minute difference. Satoru doubts that Yuuji notices that the curse does that either. The out of rhythm blinking when it is flummoxed and puzzled. It regains its calm quickly, but not quick enough for Satoru to not notice. Nothing is quick enough to escape Satoru 's Six Eyes.

'If I 'm stalking you, you 'd know, ' it says with surety.

'I would? '

It seems puzzled on how to answer for a moment. Its blinking gone off kilter again. 'You can sense me, can 't you? '

Satoru can. There is a distinct buzz to curse energy. Like the distant humming of a bee that 's a bit too far away to be annoying but just close enough for Satoru to hear. This cursed spirit keeps its energy under wraps and binds. It is perfectly innocuous at a cursory glance, almost regular human levels of cursed energy.

It is something that would take a normal sorcerer off guard and get them an attack from the back that they may or may not survive from.

Luckily, Satoru is no normal sorcerer.

He can see the way there its energy is coiling and coiling inside itself. Self contained and packed tight. It is a thing that is ready to burst at a moment 's notice. It is a thing that was not meant to be confined at all. Its cursed energy was angry, angry, angry. Roaring like a flame and snapping at anything that gets too close. Mixed with the bitter tinge of grief, sluggish and drooping.

The curse energy tends to give a hint to what birthed a curse, and Satoru thinks there must 've been a lot of anger there. The all consuming kind, the kind that wants to burn down the world.

Shoo, Satoru, go away, don 't touch.

'I can, ' Satoru says, his smile veering on irritating. 'You 're super angry. '

It stares at him as though to say,

really?

Satoru thinks he would 've been convinced of its unfeelingness if it 's blinking didn 't go offbeat again and its cursed energy coil and coils, as though to try to hide itself from Satoru.

It is a cute thought, nothing can hide from Satoru.

'Maybe you 're just annoying, ' it says in lieu of an actual answer. Satoru cackles, it is purposefully loud and mocking, he thinks the curse knows this, too. Its gaze is wry and it seems to say that

see? Look at you go, you annoying fucker.

Satoru thinks he is flattered. He takes pride in being annoying. It 's his thing.

'I don 't know, that 's some strong anger, ' Satoru muses. 'Strong enough to create a curse, wouldn 't you say? '

Shoo, Satoru.

It looks at him, unimpressed. 'If this is what it takes to create a curse, I think you 'll have a lot more curses walking around. '

Satoru doesn 't think so. Not everyone has a world ending level of anger. The type that wants to burn down the world in its fury and leave nothing behind in its wake. It is the type of anger that only comes with a bad, bad, bad Tuesday where something happened and your world gets thrown off kilter and you want to do to the world what it did to you.

'What created you, then? ' Satoru asks, tilting his head just the right way to look innocuous in doing so.

Neither of them buys it.

Satoru hasn 't been innocently naive in a long, long time. It is still offensive to his acting ability anyways.

'Why do you want to know? ' it asks back, its voice a touch abrasive. 'Is that going to help you murder me better? '

Murder, as though it were still alive and breathing and a being of blood and cells instead of a cursed spirit.

You don 't kill a cursed spirit, you exorcise it. There is a difference there; the lines are blurring, though, with this curse.

Satoru shrugs. 'Can 't a man just be curious? ' It is annoyingly evasive, and not an answer at all. But the curse hasn 't given him a solid answer either, so they 're both playing the same game. It is a game of

ooh, here 's a super important question for you

and

I 'm not going to tell you shit, though

. It is a game of two people needling each other until something gives or leaks and Satoru hasn 't lost yet.

'No, not you, ' the curse says with that easy confidence again. See? Satoru never loses.

Satoru hums, he doesn 't mention its overly familiarity with him. To do so would be to make it aware and lose any potential edge he has over it. But it is tempting to ask the curse why it seems to think it knows him so. Why its gaze borderlines on yearning when it looks at him.

It is the kind of gaze you look at someone you cherish deeply, Satoru isn 't usually on the receiving end of that. It makes him kind of want to preen, again, like a peacock. It is the kind of gaze that makes Satoru think he is cared for, somehow.

They haven 't spoken before today, so the point is null and void. But it stares like it can 't get enough.

Perhaps it would be creepy, but Satoru finds it a bit flattering if not weird how it never seems to lose eye contact with him. It would be creepy if Satoru was normal; but as is, he 's bored and whimsical on the best of days.

'I think I 'm curious, ' Satoru decides. It is not an answer. They are not giving straight answers to each other because that 's not how the game is played.

'You are, ' it acknowledges after a moment. 'But there 's always something more, isn 't there? I 'm not something remarkably curious. '

It fancies itself a mundane human, Satoru thinks. It waves its hand as a dismissive,

look, there 's nothing quite special about me.

But it is tense, now, Satoru can see that. In the way it blinks faster than it has before and its chest rises and falls slower, as though forced. It knows its existence is curious, but it 'll be damned before it admits it to Satoru. It is a kind of stubbornness that is wholly personal.

They haven't spoken before today.

But there is something more about Satoru 's curiosity, but he thinks he 'll be damned if he admits that. It is a game they 're playing. A tightrope of vague questions and even more vague answers.

Satoru thinks it 's nigh time one of them trips. He is not the most patient, so he thinks its time for a few tricks.

'I think you are, ' he says. 'You 're pretty weird for a curse. '

It looks at him, humming and says nothing at all.

'What 's that word again? ' They both know Satoru knows the word, he is just stalling it out to have a bit of fun. 'Ah, right, jinchuuriki. '

It draws in a breath, audible for both of them to hear. It is a wispy sound, quiet and still. Almost neutral if Satoru didn 't catch the way its blink had gone off kilter again. A beat, and then two, Satoru can see its chest rising in tandem with its blink. Synchronized unnaturally.

It is a thing of mistakes. It plays at the habits of humans as though it used to walk amongst them. But its motions are anything but natural, it must know this, too. But it doesn 't fix it when it could so easily replicate, say, Satoru right now. Satoru with his beating heart and normal blinks. Whose chest rises and falls rhythmically like a human 's instead of a machine told to copy one.

It must know it could, it hasn 't done so.

Satoru thinks that there 's something to that. A thing that he can prod and poke at if only he knew what it meant. Why hasn't it taken one glance at a normal being and replicated their motions instead of making itself unnatural like this.

'You mean vessel, ' it says, as though the two were interchangeable. Satoru knows they are not, it is testing him. It is still staring at him now, accessing instead of appreciating.

'I think we both know what I mean, ' Satoru replies. His smile is something wicked.

It waves a dismissive hand. 'Jinchuuriki 's pretty old, I gathered. '

It 's ancient history, it says. Nothing for you to dig and poke at, sorcerer, shoo.

'But you know it, and you 're a newborn, ' Satoru points out.

It shrugs. It is a motion that is surprisingly casual. There is a note to it that isn 't quite the man it portrays itself to be. Along with the way it swings its legs almost childishly, now. There is forced lightness in both motions. The shrug and the way it swings its legs are remarkably childlike. Satoru wonders if it has replicated the motions of a child and wonders why.

Better yet, he thinks that this is a habit from long ago. A habit made by a human child that didn 't know what he was going to grow into and instead enjoyed an idyllic youth, swinging legs on any surface and shrugging with the obstinate childishness of his age.

The child has long passed and all that remains is a cursed spirit. Satoru thinks that they are on the right track.

'That 's what they call me. ' It is avoiding labeling itself a newborn, they both notice it.

'I mean, you just popped up a few weeks before, didn 't you? ' Satoru cannot remember the date for the life of him, but it was relatively recent in the grand scheme of things. 'That 's pretty new to me. '

It shrugs again. 'You eavesdropped on my conversation with Itadori, you tell me. '

Ah, so it noticed.

Satoru laughs, it is not a nice laugh.

'Whoops. ' It is utterly insincere.

'That 's very rude of you, ' it mocks, its voice rising slightly as though to copy him. It doesn 't go fully, as Satoru knows its technique is able of. But it does the job well enough.

It is Satoru 's turn to wave dismissively. Eavesdropping on a conversation is no biggie, really. Satoru has done more morally ambiguous things. Way ruder things, too.

'So, vessel, ' Satoru circles back. Because he knows the curse is trying to distract from the subject. It was working remarkably well until Satoru remembers that they are supposed to be talking about Yuuji and Yuuji 's impending death if Satoru doesn 't have something compelling to slap the higher up 's faces with. Proverbially, since he's pretty sure that if he slaps them he 'll accidentally kill them.

It only hums, it is waiting for him to ask. It knows that he is here for something relating to Yuuji, though it does not know

what

exactly. So it is waiting for him to reveal his hand. It knows that it is at an advantage with its information over Satoru, so it is pressing that advantage to the ground.

Satoru decides that it 's as good a time as any to get this curse caught up to modern times.

'You know, the modern jujutsu world 's kinda fucked. '

The curse hums, as though not surprised. It is fair, curses are formed out of humans, after all. So for all the moral grandstanding that they may do, it is the fears of humans that create said curses, even if nobody likes to think about i.t.

'Yeah, I know, real shocker. ' Satoru moved on to fiddle strands of hair falling into his face. 'A bunch of oldies at the top who lived a bit too long and want to keep the old times way into the current times. ' There it was again, recognition, familiarity, a wry grin. Satoru found himself smiling back at the curse, it had that kind of charm around it. Like Yuuji but older and warier. 'Now they 're trying to mess over Yuuji-kun, the vessel you creepily snuck into to talk to, by the way- ' The curse winced. 'Kill him or murder him or execute him and whatnot. Like the

old ways.

'

The curse stared at him, really, really stared. Again, it seems to want to memorize Satoru 's face and burn it into its eyes. Probably creepy, kinda flattering, it 's a tossup. It beckoned him to talk more and Satoru was always a bit chatty.

'Execute the vessel like the old days, you know. But see, here 's the thing, there 's no real record of what happens after execution. Not for cases as major as a special grade, at least. ' Talking about Yuuji 's execution was always something that soured Satoru 's mood. 'And they 're afraid of what will happen during the finger eating marathon. ' The curse raised a brow at that. 'Before Yuuji-kun can reach the finish line. '

'Now, 'what does this have to do with me, a stray curse? ' says you, ' Satoru mimicked, his voice cracking in all the wrong places and making the curse struggle between amusement or grimacing. 'Well, long story short, Yuuji-kun thinks you 're a past vessel. '

They both know it couldn 't deny the allegations now. So it doesn 't. Instead it chews and gnaws on his words. Its mind is working and working and for a moment, its energy lashes out. It doesn 't like the answer it has arrived at. And it is staring at Satoru with a new gaze now, an unpleasant one.

'Why are you asking? ' There is something simmering beneath its question. Everything feels like it is hinging on Satoru 's answer at this moment.

'I don 't want Yuuji-kun executed, ' he answers.

'Ah, right, you want him executed after his marathon. ' It narrows its eyes slightly, as though seeing him through a completely new window. It is the unpleasant kind, the kind of gaze that means it thinks it has made an error in judgement and is now trying to rectify that.

'I don 't want him executed at all, but Sukuna is a problem, ' Satoru answers. For all that he cares for his student, he has duties to upkeep. And one of them happens to be not letting the king of curses wreck havoc.

The curse 's lips curl. It is an unpleasant thing, with the scars on one side of its face stretching with the smile. Making it something oddly eye-catching. It is the kind of smile that is part mocking, part bitter. Making Satoru feel like he has definitely failed that line of questioning.

'You want something from me, to help Itadori Yuuji live just a bit longer, is that it? ' It sounded saccharine, its tone dripping with false honey. Satoru knows that if he dares to even contemplate that offer, whatever little conversation they 'll have after this will be battle talk.

'You mention generations of vessels. That means that they get to live. ' Satoru knows that there is no playing around the point now. 'You said they don 't get executed. '

It blinks. The aggressive tone it takes on dissipates as its mind jogs and jogs. After a while, it assesses Satoru again. And while it isn 't with the fond familiarity it had on earlier, it is better than the look that he has failed it personally somehow.

'You don 't execute weapons, ' it says. A reminder of its earlier talk with Yuuji and Satoru knows he has gotten it on hook, line, and sinker. 'You use them. '

It is an unheard of thing to use vessels as weapons. Vessels are executed with the curse they house, no exceptions.

Let alone generations of them.

It reeks of a conspiracy. Of something that once worked, of a system that once prospered but then something went wrong along the way and they are here now. The records, erased. Vessels sent for execution.

There were once vessels in the past who served and fought alongside sorcerers. Who lent their powers to their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Who were used just as cursed weapons were.

But something went wrong. Something upsetted the generations worth of trust they had.

Satoru thinks that thing might be the curse standing in front of him now.

'And how? ' Satoru knows he is perhaps rushing a bit, but it is nice to know that his theory has been confirmed.

'You heard it, seals, ' it repeats, slightly annoyed. 'You seal a monster inside a vessel. The vessel can borrow the monster 's powers, and usually the seal 's good enough to keep the monster trapped. '

It sounds revolutionary, it sounds novel. It sounds exactly like what the current Yuuji needs.

'Can you use seals? '

'No, ' it denies quickly. 'I- that 's not me. '

Well, that was a slight complication. But Satoru is pretty sure he can figure things out if given a bit more information, and time.

'Well, the other way is to let me know how you became a- '

'No, ' it denies just as quickly. Its eyes are narrowed and its lips are thinning. It is a sign of defensiveness if Satoru 's ever seen it. 'I think I 've given you enough information. '

Satoru hums, it is to say

well, you could always give me more.

It is unimpressed.

'It 's your turn, now. ' Its tone bears no argument. 'Do you know what happened to the Kyuubi? '

Satoru can take a wager at whose vessel this curse was.

'The Kyuubi? That thing 's practically ancient history by now, ' Satoru answers. Because, well, he supposes he owes it that much.

'He 's dead? ' it asks, almost disbelieving. Almost like grief.

Satoru shrugs. 'I don 't know, no one 's seen a sighting of the Kyuubi in ages. It 's kind of a folklore curse, you know. Those live and die with their mythology, and the Kyuubi hasn 't been feared in a long, long time. ' He thinks that he is giving it false hope of seeing an old, familiar face. But, well, maybe sometimes even curses need a bit of hope, too.

Satoru certainly hasn 't met the Kyuubi before in his entire career, so he 's pretty sure it 's dead.

'You ' have you ever heard of the Juubi? '

Satoru doesn 't think he has heard that name in his entire life, and he says as such.

Finally, Satoru gets to see it smile.

It is bordering on grief but there is a potent

relief

there.

It is undeniable that there 's something eye-catching about the curse when it smiles. Like Satoru said, it has the charms of Yuuji and the benefit of age. The scars make its smile something even more noticeable.

It looks at Satoru again and Satoru realizes how its gaze hasn 't left him ever since.

It looks at him as though it knows him. As though it is familiar with him. Like the way you 'd look at an old photograph.

It was born only a few weeks ago.

He thinks what it is seeing is a ghost.

Intangibility.

The familiarity it looks at him with.

It is clicking together like some disjointed puzzle and Satoru doesn 't know if he likes the answer.

The Gojo clan is ancient and prestigious. If there were any conspiracies, they would definitely have been involved. And they definitely would 've been part of it, marred with it. Especially if it was something as important as generations of vessels.

Satoru is the first in numerous generations to manifest Six Eyes and Limitless. But he 's not the first in forever.

Replication. Intangibility. The way it looks at him as though grieving and reminiscing.

There is a conclusion on the tip of his tongue.

He says it:

"What, do I remind you of someone?"