𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐗 - 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐔𝐌

THE LIGHTS FLICKERED, AND FOR A MOMENT, IT WAS AS IF MIKAZUKI COULD FEEL EVERY SINGLE CURSE CRAWLING IN THE SPACE. Satoru must have felt it too, because as soon as the moment was over – it lasted less than a second, the sick sensation flying through the room like a wraith, he turned towards the sorceress, his face solemn. There was also something else, hiding behind his ocean eyes, but the Kinzoku had no desire to look for it. The pair walked over to the fire escape door, the rancid smell of mold and rotten food flaring in the air. Satoru pushed the door, staring at the black abyss that laid at the end of the stairwell.

"We should split up" he announced, slowly descending into the never-ending blackness "I'll take the special grade, you can handle the other one"

Mikazuki pressed her lips into a thin line, pausing as she wondered whether it was an insult or a simple strategy. Did he think her weak, or was he trying to redeem himself for what happened during her last assignment? Either way, it didn't matter. The sorceress shook her head, following Satoru and walking down the stairs. There was no light downstairs, and although Satoru could see just fine with his Six Eyes, Mikazuki was at a disadvantage, not that she would ever admit it.

Once they reached the basement, Satoru scurried away, following the strong trail of Cursed Energy. Mikazuki sighed, pulling out a flashlight and illuminating the hallway in front of her as she slowly made her way through the darkness. The nurse had been right, there was nothing of importance in the lower level aside from the emergency generator which was eerily silent and the constant thrum of the boilers. The sorceress followed the Cursed Energy, making her way through discarded gurneys and abandoned desks.

Mikazuki paused in front of a large door, pushing the metal frame and stepping into the room. The energy was stronger in her, she could feel it in her veins. The room was small, a bunch of empty bassinets with old blankets and a thick layer of dust. The sorceress made her way through the room, eyeing the cribs with a mixture of fear and sorrow. Judging from the model and make of the cribs, the place hadn't been used in a long time – everything was either broken or too old to function, the smell of mold lingered in the air as she continued to walk.

The Kinzoku halted her steps, golden gaze falling on one of the bassinets. Mikazuki stepped closer, gripping the edge of the crib and looking down at the porcelain doll that had been placed on top of the covers. Everything was covered in dust – everything except that doll. The sorceress picked it up, brushing the cobwebs in the crib away as she held the toy in her hand, twirling it around while she inspected it in detail.

The toy was old, the dress was sown by hand and the hair stitched to the head was human, soft like silk. Back in the day, girls used to cut their hair and put it in their dolls so they would match – but that was all the way back in the nineteenth century, there was no way the toy was that old. Mikazuki sighed, taking a long look at the doll. She kind of looked like Ren, with the dark hair and the pretty purple eyes.

Kinzoku Ren was her daughter – the oldest, by at least a couple of minutes if she remembered correctly. Mikazuki could feel heart break at the thought, the memory of her little girl soon dissolving into ashes as she remembered exactly why she didn't get to raise her in the first place. The sorceress shook her head, clearing her head of the thought as she pulled the doll down, however, it appeared the hatred coursing through her veins had been enough to awaken the beast.

The Curse fazed through the wall, tumbling towards Mikazuki with its arms open. The sorceress jumped out of the way, watching as the crib and the doll were shattered under its long arms. Mikazuki quickly regained her balance, eyeing the first-grade with a careful gaze, assessing it. The Curse was large, towering over hear as it looked down with its small beady eyes. It was a white shadow, dripping a strange black goo, a hundred of hands growing from its grotesque body while a curtain of black hair fell over its face.