CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE;
beyond death's gaze
chapter title taken from the song by: bruno major
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It was an ordinary, cold and gloomy day — the perfect kind of day to bid farewell to the dead, really — when [Y/n] woke up to a newfound gift: the ability to see 'death.'
However, calling it just that might not even cut it. It would be an absolute understatement. The Cursed Eyes of Death Perception were very special, after all, and very rare too. So rare, in fact, that the last known person to have them was way back in the Heian Era, the Golden Age of Jujutsu.
In that ordinary day — or should he call it a fateful one instead? — [Y/n] opened his eyes to a strange, brand-new world.
Messy, red lines snaked every corner of the room like irreparable cracks. They sprawled over his bed, the floors, the walls—everywhere, and he felt sick just looking at them.
Maybe that's why he got curious.
Maybe that's why [Y/n] prodded a finger into one of the lines, expecting his finger to be rejected by it, to be resisted by it, only for his finger to sink in. Down, down, down into the strange red lines. But, it's not enough, his finger never reached the bottom.
"If I have something thinner... then, maybe...?" His gaze darted to the nearby desk where a pair of scissors lay. With a single-minded focus, he swiftly grabbed it and, in one swift motion, stabbed it into the red line. It sank all the way to the bottom.
"...It's kinda fun."
Alongside the gleeful wonder in his eyes, he continued tracing the scissors along one of the red lines on the bed. Thud. It cleanly broke apart—no, sliced apart, as if it were meant to be.
"What are you doing?!"
[Y/n] turned around, facing the voice behind him. Oh, his father's here, glaring down with unmistakable anger. A classic expression, indeed.
"What happened here? What did you do, [Y/n]?!" His father asked again, though his frustration was more evident this time. But geez, no need for all the shouting, really.
"I traced a red line that was running all over the bed, and then it broke. It was as simple as that," [Y/n] explained, his tone straightforward and honest. But it seemed his father was still struggling to grasp the concept.
"What are you talking about? Explain it in detail, [Y/n]!"
"I can show you, if you want," [Y/n] replied, unfazed, taking a determined step closer to his father, scissors in hand. "Those red lines are running all over your body too, Father."
"You... How dare you propose such a thing—?!" Despite his fury, his father's bravado faltered, and he took a hesitant step back, retreating from his own son.
[Y/n] smiled sweetly. He knows... something inside him didn't seem to be right. Something inside him had definitely changed alongside the emergence of these new eyes of his — As if the sensation of his eyeballs splitting in two with every blink wasn't mortifying enough.
But he pushed those concerns aside, because right now, there was something wonderful he could show his father. Not to make his father proud of him. No. [Y/n] had given up on that specific thing long ago. So, this time—
"We can start with the lines on your right arm, Father. Those lines are the shortest, so I can trace them the easiest."
That was a lie.
He knew that the length of the line didn't matter. Barely any force was needed to slice them clean, akin to cutting a piece of paper with scissors. However, when he had cleanly sliced the bed apart moments before, a thought did ring in his mind: How easy would it be to slice through a living creature using those red lines?
Father would undoubtedly make for an intriguing subject to test it on. However, the fact that his father was still quicker than him would make this a tad complicated to do.
Ah, but who cares? Father and Grandfather experimented with his body more times than he could count. This wouldn't make things even — [Y/n] doubted much could — but he'd at least feel a twisted sense of enjoyment from it.
"My, my. What's this...?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
[Y/n] stilled. That croaky, old voice. The scent of death that always surrounded that decrepit, hunched figure. "Grandfather, you're here," he stated, disappointment thinly veiled.
His father remained tense near him. [Y/n] tightened his grip on the scissors.
Grandfather smiled, his sunken eyes ablaze with unnatural desire. "So you've acquired it, child," he chuckled darkly. "Good. Very good. We can proceed with the next step of your training then."
"What does that mean? You're familiar with these... lines he's speaking of, Father?" How funny. Despite being his son and obediently following his every command, it seemed like his grandfather had never disclosed the full extent of his scheme to his father.
What a pitiful man his father was, [Y/n] thought. Pathetic and utterly devoid of pride.
"Congratulations, my son," Grandfather mused. "You finally have something to be proud of in this worthless life of yours. Your son has gained back something our clan lost long, long ago."
[Y/n] remained silent, a vacant expression in his eyes as he stared at his grandfather.
"You mean—?"
"Yes. The Cursed Eyes of Death Perception." Grandfather flashed [Y/n] a twisted grin, then cast a glance at the cleanly sliced bed. "There's no mistaking it. Just as planned."
As soon as his grandfather finished speaking, [Y/n] struck.
He thrust the scissors into the red line at the old man's neck.
His father cried out, eyes wide with panic.
The scissors pierced through.
But then, not even a second—
[Y/n]'s body collapsed to the ground, the scissors clattering beside him. He could only glare as his grandfather's grotesque grin remained.
The tiny thing inside his chest squirmed erratically, halting all movements of his body, paralyzing his limbs. If he could sigh, he would. And here [Y/n] had thought he was quick enough to kill the old man before he could unleash his technique. What a shame.
"That's not a very good behavior to have, child. Attacking the elderly is a serious offense."
His ears rang heavily, blood seeping from them, staining the bedroom floor a dark red — a mess that would be a nightmare to clean up later. He groaned. "You're right. I apologize, Grandfather," he muttered. "I should rip apart that ancient body of yours to shreds instead."
Grandfather chuckled. [Y/n] wondered how many times he was going to die again tonight.
"What a disobedient child you've raised here, my son. Let us hope my training can reform him to something more useful."
"Yes, Father," his father replied before advancing toward [Y/n]'s fallen body to deliver a kick to the head. [Y/n] heard something crack. "Behave yourself, [Y/n], or things will get much worse for you."
[Y/n] rolled his eyes.
"Do your worst."
━
It was on that ordinary day that [Y/n] realized the world was full of red, messy stitches.
It was on that day [Y/n] understood how easy it would be to tear apart the world.
━
"How strange," [Y/n] muses with a raised brow, staring at the gleaming surface of his dagger which now radiates under the sunlight, "it's all clean now."
Toji must have cleaned it up before [Y/n] and Satoru arrived. How oddly... sweet of him. Though the dagger isn't anything special, he's used it for so long that it's almost like an extension of his own body.
"Hm?" [Y/n] tilts his head to the side, narrowly dodging the attack Toji aimed towards one of his eyes. "And to think, I was just praising you in my thoughts, Toji-san."
"Oh? Thanks," Toji replies with a grin, before swiftly launching another attack from the distance with the Inverted Spear of Heaven attached to the Chain of a Thousand Miles.
"What a combination of weapons," [Y/n] remarks with a wry grin, gaze flickering to the ugly turd thing perched upon Toji's shoulder.
He sidesteps another attack with practiced ease as he gradually closes the distance towards Satoru's position. "Is he finally out of his mind? Taking on both of us like this. I wasn't even going to fight him," [Y/n] says aloud.
Satoru shrugs in response. "He's a Zenin," he says, answer enough for the both of them.
"Yeah. I guess that's true."
The pair effortlessly evades Toji's constant attacks, their movements synchronized in perfect harmony as they gracefully sidestep each swing of the weapon in unison. It's almost like a dance, their coordination seamless and fluid.
"The two of you are getting real annoying," he hears Toji say from afar, green eyes narrowed, and in response, [Y/n] grins at him.
"Should I step closer to make it easier for you then, Toji-san?"
The world flickers.
[Y/n] sees the red 'death' line on Toji's right arm and sprints. The dagger in his hand sings.
Toji is faster than him, [Y/n] knows this.
And that's exactly what Satoru will take care of.
Behind him, with the air thrumming with energy, Satoru smirks, fingers poised and pointed to Toji, and then, another blast of—
"Red."
It goes past him, ringing inside his ears like a blaring siren, shattering concrete as it hurtles relentlessly toward its mark: Toji.
But that's not what [Y/n] is counting on. No.
As Toji deflects the red attack with the Inverted Spear of Heaven — finally succeeding this time — he pauses. In front of him, [Y/n] is nowhere to be seen. "Hiding in the dust and debris, are you?" Toji smirks before launching a relentless assault on the surrounding area.
But that's a mistake. A subtle mistake [Y/n] was relying on when Satoru unleashed red. When the dust settles, revealing once again his absence, he descends upon Toji from above, sporting a Cheshire-like smile on his face—
At the pivotal moment of impact, as Toji's focus was consumed by deflecting red and the dust enveloped the surroundings entirely, [Y/n] leaped into action. With a swift hand, he grasped the largest concrete boulder within reach, elevating himself above the chaos below.
And with Satoru's help of blue, well, it was all easy from there to keep the small boulder suspended long enough before Toji noticed his shadow from above.
—and swiftly brings down his dagger precisely on the red line. Toji's right hand is severed cleanly, the Inverted Spear of Heaven tumbling to the grimy floor.
But Satoru isn't finished. Not by a long shot.
From afar, [Y/n] can see the monstrosity that's brewing at Satoru's fingertips. He swiftly moves away, but not before offering Toji a brief, cheeky wave goodbye.
A brilliant purple light illuminates the surroundings, and before Toji can equip himself with another weapon using his remaining arm. Satoru unleashes a technique [Y/n] has never witnessed before.
"Hollow Purple."
━
Even in that dying state of his — an empty, gaping void on his chest — Toji's body somehow manages to stay upright, gaze fixed on the ground.
"Toji-san," [Y/n] utters quietly, his voice carrying across the dusty battlefield. Those piercing green eyes lock on to his approaching figure. He sees exhaustion. He sees defeat. But most of all, he sees regret.
Beside him, Satoru moves closer as well to speak, "You got any last words?"
Toji stays quiet for a while, his gaze distant, as if lost in the labyrinth of his own memories. When he finally answers, his voice's barely above a whisper. "In two or three years, my kid will get sold to the Zenin Clan," Toji mutters the fact. "Do whatever you want."
"...Your kid, huh?" [Y/n] repeats back, memories of the pregnant woman he once met flashing through his mind, but Toji isn't done talking. Not yet.
"[Y/n]."
"Hm?" He blinks, attention snapping back in place.
Maybe it's a trick of the light, or his sight is a little distorted amidst the remaining dust, but he sees the faint quirk of Toji's lips — a small, final smile.
"Good luck, kid."
He feels a lump in his throat, something so unfamiliar it catches him off guard.
How strange. [Y/n] never thought he would ever grieve for this man — the time they spent together a blend of conversation and combat, was fleeting at best.
So, then... why?
"What's with that expression?" Satoru's gentle touch, two soft fingers brushing against his cheek, draws his attention away from the lifeless body before them. "Feeling a little melancholic, [Y/n]?"
[Y/n] furrows his brows, gently swatting Satoru's hand away. "Does it look like I am?" he asks with a slight tilt of his head. Is it really showing up on his face, or is Satoru just joking around?
Satoru simply shrugs in response, attention already drifting away to the building nearby where Amanai's body should be.
[Y/n] hums, and instead of following Satoru's lead to head inside the building, he approaches Toji's corpse instead, gently lowering the body to the ground. "What are you doing?" Satoru stops and asks, turning back with an arched brow.
He lapses into silence, sheathing his dagger and hiding it back in his sleeve. Taking one final, lingering glance at Toji's lifeless face before he closes the corpse's eyes. "Satoru," he calmly says, "What do you about the language of flowers?"
Satoru sighs, a little reluctant to answer. "What? Planning to charm your senpai with some flowers soon, [Y/n]?"
"I only buy flowers for the dead," he replies back with a pointed look.
"Is that so?" Satoru gestures toward the building and says, "Come on. Let's go inside and get back Amanai's body."
"I've said my goodbye to her already, Satoru. You go on ahead without me," [Y/n] states firmly, his decision has already been made. Their mission to protect the Star Plasma Vessel failed. Amanai Riko is already dead.
[Y/n]'s certain that Satoru can go retrieve the body himself. There's no need for him to come along. If he avoids witnessing Amanai's lifeless form, then maybe, [Y/n] can preserve his final memory of her: the last smile she granted to him.
"And what're you gonna do?" Satoru asks with a slight frown, a little miffed perhaps that he's not coming with.
[Y/n] fixes his gaze at the corpse, of the man he once knew, of the man he wished he had gotten to know better when he was nothing but a child. "I'll take care of this, of course."
"Hah, fine then."
"Before you go, Satoru," [Y/n] calls out again, and Satoru quickly turns around, his expression now weighted with a deep frown. "Tell me, are you going to kill them?"
Satoru stays silent, his face gives away nothing. Ah, he was probably thinking about it, huh?
"I would advise against killing them today, Satoru. Maybe wait a few more days, or maybe even a few weeks. Let it appear like an accident. After all, they're merely non-curse users. We can't openly target them."
Satoru ponders the suggestion, and nods, though his blue eyes continue to reflect his contemplation. "We'll see," Satoru says, leaving the decision open-ended.
As Satoru departs into the building, [Y/n] sighs, attention drawn to the ugly worm inching closer to his leg. Before it can utter a sound, he seizes it and hurls it into the distance, paying no mind to its landing spot, for his focus is now only on one single thing.
He holds the Inverted Spear of Heaven firmly, twirling it in his hand, savoring the sensation of its weight and balance, and lets a small smile play on his lips.
"It's finally mine."
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!! author's note !!
HES FINALLY DEAD I CAN FINALLY MOVE PAST THIS ARC HOLY ASS IM FREE NO MORE HIDDEN INVENTORY OHMAGAHHHH WHY DID IT TAKE SO LONG GAHHHHHHHHH.
Also, I've lost my ability to cook for this book because honestly, I don't even know what writing style to use for this most times it's so infuriating like aduiasigdisgadsad. Hope y'all still enjoyed it anyway because one last original arc before we go to a time skip and then I can finally start some *romantic adventures* mwah. okay bye now see y'all next time!!!