concern and control | satoru gojo x reader

Chapter 19: Echoes of the Past

In the nick of time, you raised your arms to shield yourself, struggling to hold the dagger against the curse's onslaught. Your knees buckled under the force, trembling as the curse crept closer. Every fiber of your being screamed.

You barely held it back. The dagger against its claws.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You had to use your cursed energy.

You tapped into your cursed energy, summoning it with every ounce of your being. It surged through you like a tidal wave. Uncontrolled and raw. Too much and too little all at once. Always threatening to consume you. You had to be quick, or the cursed energy would knock you out before you could strike a blow against the curse.

For a split second, you gained control over your power. You pushed back with all your might and drove the dagger into the curse's head. The warehouse echoed with a bone-chilling shriek. In mere seconds, it vanished, leaving behind only the haunting memory of its red eyes.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you struggled to regain your composure. Dust and debris clung to your sweat-soaked skin. Weakness washed over you in waves. Then your legs gave way beneath you. You collapsed to the cold concrete floor.

You remained motionless for what felt like an eternity, unable to move. This was the price you had to pay for wielding the cursed energy. The power that had saved you in countless battles had also brought you to the brink of defeat. You used it only when absolutely necessary.

However, those moments of necessity seemed to be occurring more frequently lately, as if the world around you was growing darker, and more powerful curses were drawn to your presence.

Slowly, you regained control of your muscles. You rolled over, the world spinning around you. Blood clung to the floor as you struggled to sit up. Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain coursing through your body. Your fingers trembled as you reached behind you, trying to assess the severity of your injury.

Your fingers brushed against torn fabric and the warm stickiness of blood. The wound throbbed in response, and you winced at the searing pain that shot through your back. It was deep, and though you couldn't see it, you knew that it would leave a lasting mark.

Suddenly you heard a low, guttural growl.

Another curse.

Out of the darkness emerged a terrifying creature—larger than the curse before. Its grotesque limbs were twisted and deformed. Its eyes, dull and lifeless, stared at you with a malevolent hunger. The curse advanced, its movements sluggish yet unnerving.

Your battered body protested as you forced yourself up. But it was in vain, your body refusing to obey your commands. You fell back to your knees. Your cursed energy drained you too much. You used too much.

Fuck.

Out of nowhere, a figure appeared, silhouetted against the radiant crimson glow—a man with striking white hair. Tall frame. Broad shoulders.

"Careful now," the man said. "Wouldn't want you getting killed after such an impressive show."

The curse recoiled in fear. Its malevolence subdued by the sheer force of the stranger's presence.

Fear?

The curse?

How was that even possible?

The stranger raised his hand, and with a swift and fluid motion, he unleashed a torrent of cursed energy that engulfed the curse. The malevolent creature let out a final, agonized wail before disintegrating into nothingness, leaving only a swirling void where it once stood. As the brilliant light faded, the warehouse returned back to darkness.