A city-wide concert consisting of gunshots enlivened Nishi-Shinjuku — the occasional shrieking civilian contributing to the harmony. Yukou Tsugomorii traversed the rooftops with speed, firing his handguns in tandem; Itsuka Shinidare blocked a barrage of bullets using her scythe's blade and leapt between two buildings.
I figured out what's up with those handguns.
The man paused by a ledge. He tracked the woman through the Beretta M9's sights, relentlessly pulling the trigger. A litany of lead punctured the cityscape as the sorcerer dashed parallel to the curse user before disappearing behind a wall.
The purple one fires bullets that follow the intended target, whereas the black one seems to possess infinite ammunition.
Two consecutive flashes erupted from the Desert Eagle's muzzle — preceding a pair of sharp, sonorous wails in the vicinity. Yukou grinned. He sprang into the air and spotted Itsuka running along the top of a billboard, his Beretta M9 pointing towards her. The woman met the man's gaze. She vanished, a downpour of projectiles renovating the background with a constellation of holes.
Sharpshooting with two handguns at once is difficult. He's focusing on the Beretta M9 in his dominant hand while shooting the Desert Eagle without aiming.
The curse user landed back on the rooftop. He turned his head and ducked — a skeletal blade sweeping centimetres past his hair — before backflipping over the building's edge while pulling the Desert Eagle's trigger. The sorcerer deflected the gunshot with her weapon's handle and dove in his direction.
Yukou's feet crashed into the roof of a parked truck, the force of the impact rocking the vehicle. Itsuka twisted her body in midair to evade the ensuing gunfire, swinging her scythe downwards. The man disappeared as a crescent-shaped slash sundered the truck. He reappeared further up the road and aimed his Beretta M9 at the woman yet again. Terrified civilians cowered inside nearby shops, their shrieks drowned out by the incessant ignition of gunpowder accompanying the sorcerer's sinuous sprint towards the curse user.
Amidst the shooting, a stray bullet shattered a display window before piercing a woman's skull; her blood splattered a rack of floral dresses, painting new patterns onto the fabric.
Yukou leaned back — narrowly eluding an oblique cut to the throat — and jumped onto a building. Itsuka paused upon hearing a child crying. She glanced at the dead woman lying on the floor of a shop, a little girl sobbing beside her.
"Whoops," chuckled the man, reloading the Desert Eagle. "My bad."
An inferno of darkness consumed the Death Sentence Sorcerer's body. She stared into the curse user's eyes, a labyrinth of blood vessels pervading her scleras. "You deserve to die."
Yukou smirked. "That's rich, coming from the woman who cursed her family to death at the age of five."
Death Sentence... Itsuka Shinidare's infamous innate technique. Any human or cursed spirit whose cursed energy comes into contact with her own meets an excruciating end.
The man narrowed his eyes.
Luckily for me, there's a catch. Not only does Itsuka Shinidare's lifespan diminish each time she curses someone to death — the severity increasing alongside the power of the victim — but Death Sentence also requires the target's cursed technique to be active.
He momentarily shifted his sight to the Desert Eagle and sighed under his breath.
Just a single magazine left for the Desert Eagle of Persistent Pursuit. Even worse, the Beretta of Boundless Bullets isn't much use with all these obstacles. I have an idea.
Yukou bolted away; Itsuka hunted him down. As they raced throughout the city, Shinjuku Central Park materialised in the near distance. The man outpaced the woman and stopped in the middle of a flowery field enclosed by trees. He pointed the handguns in opposite directions — vigilantly scanning his surroundings.
I dare you to try sneaking up on me now.
The scuttling of footsteps crept around the curse user. A deathly presence emanated from the woods, dragged alongside a fast-moving figure lurking within the artificial nightfall. Yukou adjusted his grip on the handguns. He inhaled and held his breath, awaiting Itsuka's ambush. Stillness.
It's like she's on the prowl.
Motion invaded the man's peripheral vision: a bullet ruptured a flying rock — an ear-piercing echo concomitantly ringing out. The woman emerged from the forest. She parried a series of gunshots and veered sideways — her swift steps marking the field — before swiping her weapon at the curse user's ankles. Yukou hopped backwards as the blade shredded a patch of flowers, pulling the Desert Eagle's trigger. The sorcerer pushed her scythe's handle upwards to counter the projectile and lunged at him.
A metallic collision filled the man's ears, followed by a bladed curve cleaving through the Beretta M9's barrel. The curse user blinked. He avoided a sweeping slash, tossed away the broken handgun, and distanced himself from Itsuka. The woman resumed her ceaseless pursuit.
Had the Death-Seeking Scythe's blade grazed any one his fingers, he would've perished.
Yukou reholstered the Desert Eagle before retrieving a small ball made of black and purple fabric from one of his trouser pockets and unravelling it with his fingers. The material expanded, forming a regular-sized duffel bag.
The Special-Grade Cursed Object: Bottomless Bag. Its interior can reshape itself to store any amount of inanimate objects — as long as nobody is looking inside. Doing so would show a normal, empty duffel bag.
The sorcerer noticed the man stopping in the middle of a paved pathway. She scowled and burst forward, extending her weapon towards the curse user's body. Yukou sidestepped; a jet-black blade neared Itsuka's face as he pivoted on his right foot. The woman tilted horizontally — her ash-grey hair smouldering upon contacting the shadowy steel — and sprang away.
"Bringing a sword to a gunfight isn't so pointless after all."
A short sword resembling a Chokutou rested in the man's right hand: the weapon's hilt retained a black and purple colouration, complementing its polished, claw-like handguard and straight, slender blade.
"Now..."
The curse user dropped the duffel bag. He adopted a fighting stance — a sinister smile spreading across his face.
"Show me why they call you the Death Sentence Sorcerer, Itsuka Shinidare."
Back inside the turquoise curtain...
A precarious quietude beleaguered the Shinjuku SUBNADE Underground Shopping Centre. Yukari remained stationary, the remnants of his sorcery absent within the dramatic Domain. He met Sayume's gaze and grimaced slightly.
An Innate Domain... It's like the one belonging to that special-grade curse I fought with Kana. The curtains around us probably function as a barrier, meaning this is a complete Domain imbued with a cursed technique.
"What happened to your earlier confidence, Yukari Tsumeyami?"
As long as the external barrier stays intact, his attacks are guaranteed to hit me. It's okay, though. Even if his technique is now stronger than before, his illusions can't physically hurt—
A furious fist slammed into the side of the teenager's face — sending him reeling to the right; a foot struck his spine and flung him forward. The boy caught sight of the curse user's fist flying towards his abdomen. He gasped before retching, his breath escaping through his mouth. Yukari clutched his stomach and fell to his knees.
How did he...?
"Such a pitiful performance!" exclaimed the illusionist, watching as the teenager coughed up saliva onto the floor. "Why does Yukou even care about a weakling like you anyway?!"
The teenager clenched his fists. He slowly raised his head, a derisive grin covering his partially-swollen face. "I guess blood is thicker than water, huh?"
Sayume seized the boy's throat; he yelled and retracted his hand — a purple incandescence permeating the fibres of Yukari's scarf. The teenager's eyes widened. He quickly clasped his hands and summoned ten dark puddles around himself.
Now's my cha—
A clone of the curse user kicked the boy's jaw. The shadow swamps evaporated as Yukari landed back in the middle of the room.
"You little—" The illusionist winced, squeezing his wrist. The skin on his right palm sizzled, a miasma of flesh-scented fumes radiating from its blistered surface.
The teenager brought his trembling hands together.
Shadow Han—
Sayume's foot repetitively bashed the boy. Yukari slammed his eyes shut, curling up on the ground and recoiling at each strike.
"Despite Yukou's orders, I planned to kill you from the very beginning! I'm going to douse your carcass with fake residuals and pretend one of your beloved teammates betrayed you!"
Blood spilt from the teenager's mouth, yet the curse user continued.
"Perhaps I'll consider letting you live if you beg me to stop!"
"S... st..." murmured the boy.
The illusionist paused — the corners of his mouth beginning to form an amused smile.
Yukari glared up at Sayume. "Swallow razor blades."
An anvil crushed the teenager's left hand. He shrieked, tears swelling in his eyes.
"I bet you thought that you were somehow different!" snarled the curse user, snatching the boy's hair and tugging his head back and forth violently. "Right, Yukari?!"
"Help me!" cried Mizuki while crawling towards the teenager, innumerable syringes sticking out of his body.
Hinotori's screams filled the air. The sharp-toothed sorcerer flailed erratically, his body consumed by a mantle of orange flames.
Kana hung from the ceiling, a charred skeleton wearing a plague doctor mask sprawled out on the floor beside her.
The phantasmagoria vanished; the illusionist shouted in Yukari's face.
"Wanna know the best part...?! Big Brother Yukou isn't coming to save you! You're gonna die the same way you were raised — miserable and all alone!"
"Yukari..." called out a familiar voice — one the teenager had not heard in a long time. The boy froze.
No way.
He gradually turned his head to the left: a woman possessing purple hair and light grey eyes stood in the distance, bearing a disgusted frown.
"Why were you even born at all?"
"Mum..." whispered the teenager in a broken tone.
"You're nothing but a replacement for Yukou," declared a man with short black hair and eyes of the same colour. "We never loved you, and never will."
The boy transferred his vision to the illusionist. "How do you know my parents...?"
"Ah! About that..." A malevolent smirk spread across Sayume's face "Yukou wants to eliminate every person with roots in sorcery, so I... may or may not have paid your parents a visit."
Silence haunted the room.
"Woah, don't be sad!" mocked the curse user. "They were neglectful, weren't they?" He crouched down in front of Yukari with an exultant expression.
"Hey, I know! Why don't you use those little shadow hands of yours to snap your own neck and pray you'll be reborn into a family who actually gives a damn about you?!"
The teenager stared at the illusionist.
"What did I... ever do to you?"
Sayume sneered. "Exist."
A kick to the face launched the boy across the Domain; he crashed into the curtains before dropping to the floor — his vision going dark.
The chirping of birds and early morning sunshine infiltrated the glass walls comprising a vast, Japanese-style greenhouse. Luxuriant vegetation furnished the environment, as did an exotic kaleidoscope of picturesque petals stemming from numerous hand-painted pots. Yukari sat on a wooden bench surrounded by purple hydrangea flowers. He frowned and looked at Shinji, who tipped a watering can towards a collection of red spider lilies.
"I don't get it... I'm grateful for the birthday party Kana arranged, but for some reason, my life still feels somewhat empty."
"Have you ever heard of the 'Fight or Flight' response?" asked the man, turning his attention to a vase of tulips.
"Vaguely."
"It is an innate, physiological reaction that activates when a human is faced with danger — giving them enough energy to either fight the threat or flee," explained the sorcerer. "This is an invaluable mechanism for us Jujutsu Sorcerers, as we are exposed to life-or-death situations on a daily basis." He approached a brass tap near the end of the greenhouse, placed the can under it, and twisted its handle. The sound of water hitting plastic introduced itself. "However, there's also 'Freeze', characterised by paralysis and dissociation." The man closed the tap. "I read about a psychologist who stated that human beings can become 'stuck' in one of these modes following a traumatic experience, depending on their temperament."
Shinji set the watering can down on the ground before walking towards the teenager.
"In other words..."
He crouched down — matching the boy's eye level.
"You're frozen, Yukari."
The teenager blinked.
"You internalised the neglect you suffered during childhood, making you believe you are undeserving of love and affection," asserted the sorcerer. "You subconsciously repressed those negative emotions in an attempt to protect yourself from the painful reality of your upbringing."
The boy gave no response.
"Being aware of the cause is helpful," continued the man, standing back up and returning to watering the greenery, "but only if one is willing to resolve their problems."
Yukari nodded briskly. "What do you think I should do?"
"I find it funny you're asking me of all people," replied Shinji. "I was born with a heavenly restriction granting me greater cursed energy reserves in exchange for the burden of incurable Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder." He sighed, his pupils fixed on a wilting chrysanthemum. "At times, the anxiety of not finishing a task makes me want to gouge out my own eyes, and trying to suppress it further aggravates the condition." The sorcerer's tone went from despondent to determined. "Nevertheless... I put on a brave face and tolerate it as best I can."
A cloud obstructed the sun's rays — shrouding the greenhouse in shadow.
"You can't live a life devoid of emotion," stated the man, making eye contact with the teenager. "At some point, the universe will force you to confront the challenges you've ignored until now, and once that happens, everything will change."
The boy's eyes widened; the sun's radiance returned, the chirping of birds growing louder.
"Feel your emotions, Yukari. Even if it means going insane."
A treacherous tranquillity submerged the Stage of Schizophrenia. Yukari slouched against the blood-stained curtains, a crimson liquid flowing down his bruised nose and battered face.
It's over. I'm gonna die.
He gazed at the floor lifelessly as muffled laughter sounded in the background.
What made you believe you deserved a happy life in the first place?
The teenager felt a gentle touch on his left hand. Bit by bit, he turned his bleeding head: a shadow hand cradled the boy's fractured fingers, causing him to blink.
Huh?
The image of a tarot card entered the boy's mind.
Strength — A woman calmly stroking a lion on its forehead and jaw.
Yukari's frown transformed into a smirk.
"Time for round two!" announced the purple-haired teenager — rising to his feet.
Sayume raised his eyebrows. "Seriously...?"
"Most sorcerers are a little unhinged, and with good reason."
Yukari's hair fell over his face. He shivered, whispering to himself while hunched over.
"Resurface the emotions you've kept buried down for all these years. The anger. The sadness. The fear. Don't try to repress how you feel; deal with these sentiments like your life depends on it."
The curse user observed the teenager with conceited curiosity.
Wouldn't it be splendid to give him false hope before crushing his skull?
The boy's eyes lit up — meeting the illusionist's gaze. "Let's get started!"
A dark puddle appeared on the ground.
"When backed into a corner — without any chance of escaping — the prey has no choice but to attack the predator."
Yukari hugged his body.
"Domain Expansion!"
A tar-like substance swamped the Stage of Schizophrenia — stretching over every surface and forming an external barrier as a ghostly purple glimmer illuminated the environment.
"Neglected Hydrangea Marsh!"
Sayume's grin vanished. He stood paralysed, various species of purple hydrangea flowers blooming from the darkness. A disturbing noise prompted the curse user to raise his head: the teenager giggled — blood pouring down his face and dripping onto the floor — before bursting into a fit of deranged laughter.
I want to vomit! It's so much worse than I thought... but who gives a damn?!
The illusionist exhaled and took a couple of steps back.
What the hell is wrong with this kid?
Twenty shadow hands erupted around him.
"Where are you going, Sayume...?!"
The curse user gasped. He stumbled backwards and fell onto the tenebrous terrain upon seeing the boy rushing towards him.
Embrace the innermost depths...
Yukari's eyes adopted a crazed look.
...Of your darkest emotions!
Sayume scrambled away from the teenager, leaving footprints in the marsh.
That's the solution...
The phantom arms twitched to life.
...To my affliction!
A swarm of shadow hands grasped the curse user's arms and legs. They wrenched his limbs in divergent directions, the squelching of thinning skin keeping his screams company.
"Thank you..."
Blood gushed out of the illusionist's left arm socket and right hip joint as a pair of shadow hands brandished his appendages.
"...Sayume."
The Domain dissipated — and a few moments later — Yukari collapsed.