Seven in the morning came too quickly.
Akira woke to his alarm with a clarity he hadn't experienced in weeks. The sleep had been deep, dreamless—or at least, if the curses had sent him dreams, he didn't remember them. A small mercy.
He checked his arms in the early light filtering through the window. The black veins were still there, permanent fixtures now, but they'd receded slightly overnight. Not healed—they'd never heal—but less aggressive. Dormant.
"Morning," one of the original voices murmured sleepily. The office worker curse, the first one he'd absorbed. It had developed something resembling personality over the months, mellowed by time or resignation. "Big day ahead."
"Every day's a big day now," Akira muttered, pulling on a long-sleeved athletic shirt. Black again. Always black.
The fifth curse, the one from yesterday, was mercifully quiet. Still there—he could feel its presence like a stone in his chest—but not actively fighting him. Maybe it had exhausted itself. Maybe it was planning something. Either way, the temporary peace was welcome.
His roommate was already gone, probably at early morning conditioning. Akira grabbed his phone and headed out.
The campus was beautiful at this hour. Dew clung to the grass, catching the sunrise and turning the grounds into something that looked almost sacred. A few early risers were already training—he could hear the rhythmic sounds of strikes against practice dummies, the low murmur of technique incantations.
Normal. Routine. The everyday work of becoming strong enough to survive in a world that wanted to kill you.
Akira made his way to the training ground.
They were already there, all three of them.
Yuji sat cross-legged on the ground, looking surprisingly alert despite the hour. He'd brought a thermos of something—probably tea, knowing him. Megumi stood a few meters away, arms crossed, Divine Dog beside him in its white form. And Nobara leaned against the fence, holding a convenience store coffee cup like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
They all looked up when Akira approached.
For a moment, nobody spoke. The air was heavy with unasked questions, unspoken concerns, the weight of yesterday's revelation hanging between them like smoke.
Then Yuji patted the ground beside him. "Sit. We've got time before class."
Akira sat. The grass was cold and wet, but he barely noticed.
"So," Nobara said, taking a long drink of her coffee. "You eat curses. That's your whole deal."
Not a question. A statement, blunt and direct in the way only Nobara could manage.
"Yes," Akira said. No point in dancing around it. "I absorb them. They become part of me. Their energy, their memories, their... essence, I guess."
"How long?" Megumi asked. His tone was neutral, but his eyes were sharp, cataloging every detail. "How long have you been able to do this?"
"Three months. Since the first solo mission last semester."
Yuji's eyes widened. "That Grade Four assignment? The office building?"
"Yeah. Something went wrong during the exorcism. Or right, depending on how you look at it. Instead of destroying the curse, I absorbed it. Accidentally at first. Then..." Akira's hands clenched on his knees. "Then I realized what it could do. The power it gave me. And I kept doing it."
"How many?" Megumi again, relentless in his need for information.
"Five total. Four Grade Fours and one Grade Two—the one from yesterday."
Nobara whistled low. "Five things living in your head. No wonder you look like you haven't slept properly in weeks."
"I haven't."
"Do they talk to you?" Yuji's question was quieter, more personal. He understood this particular horror intimately.
"Yes. Constantly, some of them. Others are quieter. But they're always there." Akira looked at Yuji directly. "It's not like Sukuna. They're not possessing me or trying to take over. They're just... there. Part of me. Fragments of consciousness that won't dissolve."
Yuji nodded slowly. "But they affect you. Change you."
"Yes."
"The veins," Megumi said. "That's physical corruption. Evidence of cursed energy contamination at a cellular level."
"Gojo-sensei confirmed it last night. The curses are integrating with my cursed energy structure. Changing me from the inside."
Silence fell again. Akira could hear his own heartbeat, feel the five presences stirring in response to his anxiety. They fed on strong emotion, grew more active when he was stressed.
"Does it hurt?" Yuji asked suddenly.
The question caught Akira off-guard. Not how dangerous is it or can you control it but simply does it hurt.
"Yes," he admitted. "Constantly. Like burning from the inside. It's worse when I'm near other curses or when I use the absorbed energy."
"And yesterday," Nobara said, "when you saved our asses. That barrier you created. That was their power?"
"Partially. It's a combination—my cursed energy amplified and altered by theirs. I'm stronger than I should be. Faster. More durable. But it comes at a cost."
"Everything does." Megumi's voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "The question is whether the cost is worth paying."
"Is it?" Nobara challenged. "Worth it, I mean. Turning yourself into a curse hotel so you can be stronger?"
The question was harsh but fair. Akira had asked himself the same thing countless times.
"I don't know," he said honestly. "I started doing it to save people. That first curse would've killed a security guard if I hadn't stopped it. The others—there were always civilians at risk, situations where a normal exorcism would've taken too long or been too dangerous. Absorbing was faster, cleaner."
"Cleaner," Megumi repeated skeptically.
"For everyone else. Not for me." Akira pulled up his sleeve, revealing the black veins covering his forearm. "This is the price. My body, my mind, my humanity—all of it slowly being corrupted. But the people I saved are still alive."
Yuji was staring at the veins with an expression Akira couldn't quite read. Not horror, not pity. Something closer to recognition.
"You're sacrificing yourself," Yuji said quietly. "Piece by piece. Taking the curse into yourself so others don't have to suffer."
"That's one way to look at it."
"That's the only way to look at it." Yuji's voice was firm now, certain. "I get it, Kurozawa. I really do. I'm doing the same thing with Sukuna. Keeping him contained inside me so he can't hurt anyone. We're both vessels. Both carrying poison so other people don't have to."
The parallel was uncomfortable but accurate. Akira had drawn it himself last night, but hearing Yuji say it aloud made it real.
"Except Sukuna was already contained in an object," Megumi pointed out. "You choosing to consume him was a calculated risk. Kurozawa is actively seeking out curses to absorb. That's different."
"Is it?" Yuji challenged. "We both made choices to protect people. The method's different, but the intent is the same."
"Intent doesn't matter if the result is catastrophic."
"Intent is all that matters."
They were arguing about him like he wasn't there, but Akira didn't mind. He was curious where this would go, what conclusion they'd reach.
Nobara took another drink of coffee, watching the exchange with analytical eyes. Then she spoke, cutting through the debate with characteristic bluntness.
"Here's what I think. Kurozawa did something stupid and dangerous to save people. That makes him either a hero or an idiot, and honestly, those things aren't mutually exclusive." She pointed at him with her coffee cup. "But he's also been hiding it, dealing with it alone, slowly losing his mind while pretending everything's fine. That makes him an even bigger idiot."
"Nobara—" Yuji started.
"I'm not done." She fixed Akira with a hard stare. "You should've told us. Should've trusted us. We're a team. We face the dangerous shit together. That's the whole point."
Akira's throat was tight. "I didn't want to worry you. Didn't want to be a burden."
"Too late. You're already a burden." But her expression softened slightly. "You're our burden, though. Which means we deal with it together. Got it?"
Something painful and warm expanded in Akira's chest. "Got it."
Megumi uncrossed his arms, the gesture somehow conveying acceptance. "Gojo-sensei knows?"
"He's known from the beginning. As of last night, there are rules. No more absorptions without his approval. Weekly examinations. Complete honesty about my condition. And if I show signs of losing control, he'll..." Akira swallowed. "He'll stop me. Permanently if necessary."
"Good," Megumi said simply. "That's the correct approach. Supervision and accountability."
Yuji looked less comfortable with the execution clause but didn't argue. He understood better than anyone that sometimes the people you cared about needed to be ready to stop you.
"So what now?" Nobara asked. "You just... keep absorbing curses until you turn into a monster or explode or whatever?"
"I don't know. Gojo-sensei is setting up training, trying to figure out if there's a sustainable limit. Or if I'm on a countdown to inevitable corruption." Akira pulled his sleeve back down. "All I know is that I'm trying. Trying to stay human, stay in control, use this power without losing myself."
"That's all any of us can do," Yuji said. "Try. Keep trying until we can't anymore."
Silence fell again, but this time it was different. Not heavy with accusation or fear, but thoughtful. Considering.
Finally, Megumi spoke. "If you absorb another curse during a mission, I want to know immediately. I'll be monitoring your behavior for signs of deterioration."
"Understood."
"And if I think you're losing control, I won't hesitate to contain you."
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
Nobara stood, stretching. "Great. Glad we had this feelings talk. Very therapeutic. Can we get breakfast now? I'm starving."
The abrupt shift was so perfectly Nobara that Akira actually laughed. The sound surprised him—when was the last time he'd genuinely laughed?
Yuji bounced to his feet, grinning. "Breakfast sounds good. They're serving tamagoyaki today. Come on, Kurozawa. You look like you haven't eaten a real meal in days."
"Because I haven't."
"Then let's fix that." Yuji extended a hand.
Akira took it, letting himself be pulled upright. The gesture was simple, almost meaningless, but it felt significant. An acceptance. A choice to keep including him despite everything.
They walked toward the cafeteria together, the four of them, and for the first time since he'd absorbed that first curse, Akira felt like maybe he wasn't facing this alone.
The cafeteria was mostly empty, just a handful of first-years and some auxiliary staff. They loaded their trays with rice, tamagoyaki, miso soup, pickled vegetables—simple food that tasted better than Akira remembered anything tasting recently.
They claimed a corner table, and conversation flowed more naturally now. Yuji was complaining about Gojo's training methods—something involving blindfolds and thrown objects. Nobara was planning a shopping trip to Harajuku and trying to guilt Megumi into coming along. Megumi was resolutely ignoring her while reading something on his phone.
Normal. Almost aggressively normal.
Akira ate slowly, savoring the ordinariness of it. His phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: Shoko's office, 10 AM. Don't be late. —Gojo
He showed the message to the others.
"Medical examination?" Megumi guessed.
"Yeah. Baseline assessment of the corruption."
Nobara made a face. "Shoko's thorough. Hope you're ready to be poked and prodded for like three hours."
"Can't be worse than what I'm already dealing with."
"Don't jinx it."
Yuji leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs again. "Hey, after your exam, you want to train together? I've been working on a new application for cursed energy reinforcement. Could use a sparring partner."
The invitation was casual, but Akira understood what it really meant: I'm not afraid of you. I trust you enough to fight beside you.
"Yeah," Akira said. "I'd like that."
"Cool. This afternoon then."
They finished breakfast and headed to class together. Kusakabe looked mildly surprised to see all four of them arrive on time and together, but didn't comment. The morning lecture was about domain expansion theory—advanced material they wouldn't be expected to master for years, but important foundational knowledge.
Akira took notes mechanically, mind elsewhere. The curses were quiet this morning, almost dormant. The fifth one—the Grade Two from yesterday—was still sullen but no longer actively fighting him. Maybe it was learning that resistance was futile. Or maybe it was gathering strength for another assault.
Either way, the temporary peace was welcome.
Class ended. Students dispersed. Akira checked the time—9:45. Fifteen minutes to get to Shoko's office.
"Good luck," Yuji said as they split up in the hallway. "Medical stuff sucks, but Shoko's cool. She won't judge."
"Thanks."
Nobara gave him a two-fingered salute. "Don't let her creep you out too much. She gets really into the weird medical stuff."
Megumi just nodded, a gesture that somehow conveyed both support and warning: I'm watching you.
Akira watched them go, then turned toward the medical wing.
Shoko Ieiri's office was in the basement—closer to a morgue than a clinic, which was probably intentional. The woman had a morbid streak a mile wide and the sense of humor to match.
Akira knocked on the door marked "Medical Services."
"Come in." Shoko's voice, perpetually tired and vaguely amused.
He entered.
The office was exactly what he'd expected: sterile, clinical, equipped with both standard medical equipment and tools designed specifically for jujutsu-related injuries. Shoko sat at a desk covered in paperwork, cigarette smoldering in an ashtray despite the numerous "No Smoking" signs on the walls.
She looked up, dark eyes assessing him in a single glance.
"Kurozawa. Right on time. Gojo said you'd be punctual." She stubbed out the cigarette and stood. "Strip down to your underwear and sit on the exam table. This is going to take a while."
No preamble, no small talk. Akira appreciated the efficiency.
He undressed, folding his clothes neatly on a chair, and sat on the exam table. The paper crinkled under him. The room was cold.
Shoko approached with a clipboard and what looked like a cursed energy sensor—a small device that measured spiritual pressure and composition.
"So," she said conversationally, "you're the kid who eats curses. Gojo sent me your file last night. Fascinating stuff. Also deeply concerning, but mostly fascinating."
"That's one word for it."
"I have several words for it, but most of them are medical jargon you wouldn't understand." She pressed the sensor against his chest. It beeped, the reading spiking immediately. "Jesus. Your cursed energy signature is all over the place. Multiple distinct frequencies layered on top of each other."
"The absorbed curses."
"Obviously." She moved the sensor across his torso, taking readings at different points. "Five separate signatures. Four weak, one significantly stronger. The strong one's recent—within twenty-four hours."
"Yesterday's mission."
"Mm-hmm." She made notes on her clipboard. "How's the integration? Any rejection symptoms?"
"Rejection symptoms?"
"Your body trying to expel foreign cursed energy. Usually manifests as fever, nausea, violent energy fluctuations. Classic signs of spiritual incompatibility."
"Nothing like that. Just... the voices. The memories. Physical corruption."
"Show me."
Akira extended his arms. Shoko examined the black veins with clinical detachment, pressing against them, checking for warmth or abnormal texture.
"These aren't metaphorical," she observed. "These are actual physiological changes. Your blood vessels are being corrupted by cursed energy contamination. It's spreading through your circulatory system."
"Will it kill me?"
"Eventually? Probably. But the timeline's unclear. Could be months, could be years. Depends on how many more curses you absorb and how fast the corruption spreads." She moved to his back, examining his shoulders. "More importantly, there's evidence of structural changes to your cursed energy pathways. You're developing new channels, additional capacity. Your body is adapting to house multiple energy sources."
"Is that good?"
"It's unprecedented. Which means it's neither good nor bad, just unknown." She returned to her desk, making more notes. "I'm going to run some tests. Blood work, cursed energy resonance scans, psychological evaluation. The works. You're going to be here for about three hours. Any objections?"
"Would it matter if I did?"
"Not even slightly."
The examination was exhaustive and invasive. Blood draws, X-rays enhanced with cursed energy to see internal spiritual structure, cognitive tests to assess mental degradation, physical evaluations to check reflexes and coordination.
Shoko worked with mechanical efficiency, occasionally making observations that ranged from mildly concerning to deeply alarming.
"Your pain threshold is elevated by about forty percent. Probably an adaptation to constant discomfort."
"Your cursed energy capacity is roughly three times normal for your age and training level."
"There's evidence of minor cellular necrosis in areas with heavy vein corruption. The tissue is dying and being replaced by something else. Not sure what yet."
"Your brain activity shows unusual patterns during rest—multiple overlapping conscious processes. That's the voices, presumably."
By the time she finished, Akira felt like he'd been dissected and reassembled. Shoko compiled her findings into a thick folder, then sat across from him.
"Bottom line," she said, lighting another cigarette despite his presence, "you're dying. Slowly. The cursed energy corruption is progressing through your system at a measurable rate. If you continue absorbing curses at your current frequency, I estimate you have maybe two years before the corruption reaches your vital organs or brain."
The words landed like hammer blows.
Two years.
"And if I stop absorbing?" Akira asked quietly.
"The corruption will stabilize at current levels. You'll keep the voices, keep the veins, keep the pain. But it won't get worse. You'd essentially be frozen at your current state indefinitely."
"But weaker."
"Yes. You'd lose access to the absorbed cursed energy reserves. You'd return to baseline power levels."
Akira closed his eyes. The choice was clear: power and death, or weakness and survival.
Except it wasn't really a choice at all. Because weak sorcerers died in this world. Weak sorcerers couldn't protect anyone. And if he was going to die anyway, better to die strong and useful than weak and irrelevant.
"I can see what you're thinking," Shoko said, voice dry. "And I'm going to tell you right now: that's the corruption talking. The absorbed curses want you to keep feeding them. They're influencing your decision-making."
Akira opened his eyes. "How do I know which thoughts are mine and which are theirs?"
"That's the problem. You don't. Not anymore." She exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. "My medical recommendation is cessation of all absorption activities and immediate therapeutic intervention to stabilize your condition. Gojo's going to make his own call, but that's what I'm putting in my report."
"He won't stop me."
"No. Probably not. He's too interested in seeing what happens." Shoko fixed him with a tired, knowing look. "But I'll keep monitoring you. Weekly checkups, as per his orders. And when—not if, when—things get worse, I'll be the one picking up the pieces."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. Just don't waste the time you have left." She handed him his clothes. "Get dressed. You're free to go."
Akira dressed slowly, processing everything he'd learned.
Two years. Maybe less if he kept absorbing. Maybe more if he got lucky.
Not enough time. But then, it never was.
He left the medical wing and stepped into afternoon sunlight that felt too bright, too cheerful for the death sentence he'd just received.
His phone buzzed.
Yuji: training in 20? meet at ground 3
Akira stared at the message. He could go back to his room. Could spend the afternoon processing what Shoko had told him. Could spiral into despair and existential crisis.
Or he could train with a friend.
He typed back quickly.
To Yuji: See you there.
Twenty minutes to pretend he wasn't dying. Twenty minutes to be normal.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.