chosoblood888

[chosoblood888]

[chosoblood888]

CH 3: Ocean Eyes

[ Heart of the Phantom ]

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Eight hours had passed since your intense testing session with Yuji, your cursed energy remains restless, erratic beneath the thin veil of your strained composure. Following the unsettling episode, Yaga firmly insisted that you rest, assigning a cautious Shoko to keep a vigilant eye on your physical and emotional state.

The corridors of Jujutsu High now feel heavier, suffused with an unspoken tension arising from the raw intimacy your technique had inadvertently unveiled. As the evening drapes itself over the campus, a troubling thought creeps into your mind—how deeply had you unintentionally penetrated the defenses of someone so easily?

Night surrounds you, and despite Shoko's careful watch, sleep arrives sporadically and filled with disturbances as a nightmare starts to stir up; what you imagine was the last seconds your eyes remembered catching before you passed out the day your parents died.

Your anxiety heightens and there was a glimpse feeling of the real world and a surge of uncontrollable cursed energy surrounding you. You barely register the sudden intrusion, heart racing faster as your gaze meets piercing blue eyes in the doorway—Gojo, his eyes wide and uncovered.

It's the first time you've seen them, and the sudden revelation catches you entirely off guard, breath hitching sharply in your throat. Was this what he had hidden behind that cloth all along? His gaze pierces through you, causing an unexpected and intense feeling deep within your chest.

A shudder courses through your body as you realize your technique has activated beyond your control, immediately plunging you both into an overwhelming, vivid flood of unfamiliar memories...

THIRD POV-------------

Gojo freezes in place, his pulse hammering wildly as he's pulled deeply into the distorted images spilling from your uncontrolled technique. The vivid memories surge like a relentless tide, swirling violently around his consciousness, tugging him deeper and deeper into moments he'd buried beneath layers of casual confidence and invulnerability.

Through his eyes, Y/N helplessly witness the time of Riko's death—then comes a flash of blinding clarity, the intense and disorienting surge as Gojo awakened Reverse Cursed Technique, his life force defiantly flaring to reclaim the brink from death.

Yet the most painful image—the one that steals Gojo's breath for just a second—is the memory of Geto's back turned, distant and unreachable despite being mere inches away. These illusions came by so quickly, Y/N or Gojo could react or act on. And for the second time, Y/N's technique became just a sinkhole to someone's memories.

Memories of Geto flood his mind—moments of laughter shared between missions, heated debates about the morality of their world, the painful fracture that widened between them until it became irreparable. Gojo feels stripped bare, vulnerable in a way he has painstakingly avoided.

The illusion finally shatters, leaving both of them in stunned silence. Y/N's breathing is shaky, heart aching from emotions not entirely hers. Gojo remains motionless at first, crystalline eyes clouded with emotion, his gaze still locked intensely onto hers without realizing.

Now paying more attention to what's in front of her, Y/N notices his usually styled hair now falls loosely around his face, catching softly in the dim moonlight filtering into the room, casting faint shadows across his features.

---------------------------

The subtle play of light accentuates the gentle tension in his expression, highlighting the small veins visibly popping along his forearm, still halfway extended towards you.

Your chest tightens, guilt and confusion swirling together as you struggle to find words. "I'm... I'm sorry," you finally manage, voice barely a whisper, breaking the heavy silence. "I didn't mean to."

Gojo doesn't respond right away. His hand lowers slowly, almost reluctantly, as if severing some invisible tether between you. His eyes—still so exposed, so naked without their usual barrier—search your face for something you can't quite name. And in that stillness, you realize what you've just done. You unlocked the unfiltered memories of the strongest sorcerer alive.

The atmosphere sinks into a weight that feels eerily similar to that moment you saw for just a flicker—when Gojo stood frozen before Geto's stolen body.

He closes his eyes for a moment, then exhales, voice dry with a faint, forced edge of humor. "Guess you pulled from the top of the stack, huh?" His attempt at levity doesn't quite land, the weight in the room too thick to let it float. When he opens his eyes again, there's a flicker of amusement, but it's worn, like a mask too thin to hold much longer.

"There's a lot more in there," he adds, voice quiet but firm. "But I guess you only saw the pieces that haven't had time to rot yet." You open your mouth to respond, but the words don't come.

There's too much—too much of him still echoing inside you. What you understand now, more than anything, is the amount of dependence people, the Jujutsu society, has towards him.

You swallow, throat dry. "I didn't see everything," you say carefully, your voice still shaking. "It wasn't... it wasn't like the usual illusion. My usual technique. It was more like falling into a dream, and a feeling." Still, no response. Not yet. But his breathing slows. You press on, needing him to know. "... I felt how much it hurt. Not just what happened, but what it did to you—" your voice falters. "I didn't want to invade that. I couldn't stop it."

Gojo shifts, barely, but enough. His gaze drops to the floor for a breath before flicking back to you. His jaw tightens slightly, and for the first time, the weight of his presence settles into something more grounded, more... commanding.

There's no teasing in his posture now. "You didn't ask to see that," he finally says. His voice is low. Controlled. But not flat. "And I didn't ask to be seen. Yet here we are."

You draw in a shaky breath, guilt coiling in your stomach. "I can't undo what I saw... but I can show how my technique is supposed to be." Gojo's gaze narrows slightly, cautious, but he doesn't pull away. You sit up more fully, eyes glowing faintly violet in the dark. "If you let me—I'll show you."

There's a pause. With a quiet nod, he silently grants permission. Your ability flows differently this time—gentler, intentional.

The room fades.

A modest apartment. Blinds cracked open, letting in early sunlight that warms the room in pale gold. Coffee brewing. A small plant soaking light on the windowsill. A record hums low in the background—vinyl fuzz and slow jazz.

It's painfully normal.

He steps toward the window. The kind of casual walk people do when they aren't rushing toward death. And then—he stops.

But not how he last saw it. There's no blood. No rubble. No screams. The crosswalks are clean. Neon signs blink peacefully in the distance. People walk. Laugh. Wait for lights to change.

He's looking at a version of the city that survived.

And for a few seconds—he just stares.

It lingers.

Then dissolves.

He exhales sharply through his nose, caught off guard by the ache in his chest. "...That was... nothing special," he says, voice low.

You nod. "Exactly."

And for once, Gojo Satoru—the strongest—doesn't have anything clever to say.

You pause, heart thudding. "I made that because I saw it...and still do... how everyone leans on you. You carry everything, and no one ever asks if you want to." Your voice barely rises above a whisper. You look down, fingers curled in your lap. "I know I can't make that your reality. But...you deserved to feel what it's like to just be."

And you don't look up—but you feel it.

He's still watching you.

You recall the flash once more of Gojo's face right before he got sealed, and start to think. "May I ask something?" You finally look up and notice he had stopped looking at you. His body and face were turned away from you, and you're unable to see his blue eyes. "What is it?"

"You were unsealed... but how?" Yes, the question that kept leaving your thoughts as there was never a right time to mention it until now.

Gojo doesn't answer right away. "I'll tell you another day," he says, voice low, almost tired.

Then, with a faint exhale, he straightens and rolls his shoulders like shaking off the weight of everything left unsaid. A small grin tugs at the corner of his mouth—not quite his usual cocky smirk, but something quieter. Lighter.

"I've got a lot to do anyway," he adds, eyes flicking to you for a second. "Students to train, a generation to protect and push forward. If carrying the weight is what it takes for them to stand taller than I ever could... then I'll keep carrying it." His smile comes back. The kind of smile that belongs to someone who's decided long ago.

And this time, when he leaves, the door clicks shut gently—like a promise.

THIRD POV-------------

The hallway hums with the low buzz of a single overhead light as Gojo walks, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, the memory of the illusion still flickering at the edge of his mind. For once, he doesn't feel like covering his eyes. The image of a peaceful Shibuya, whole and untouched, clings to him like the scent of a dream.

He finds Shoko leaning on her doorway, arms crossed, her eyes bleary. She glances at him sideways.

"Can't sleep?"

Gojo shrugs. "Didn't try that hard."

She exhales through her nose, rubbing her temple. "Same."

They settle in that easy, quiet space that only old friends manage to share without effort.

After a moment, Gojo says, "That technique of hers... can be dangerous." He states it without any other context. In truth, Gojo wasn't just talking about the technique.

She lets that sit for a second. Then: "So did you guys figure it out yet? She was less than half a mile from where they found the Prison Realm. The same night you were sealed."

Gojo's expression doesn't change, but the shift in his energy is subtle and sharp. Shoko keeps going. "You reappeared before they had a chance to do anything. Like it just... unlocked itself."

"She was unconscious," he says, recalling the incident. "But her cursed energy... it was tearing the district apart."

Shoko nods. "So maybe it wasn't just a coincidence. Maybe she didn't just activate something inside herself. Maybe whatever that technique is... it reached you."

They're both quiet for a long time.

Then Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's late. And if I don't sleep now, I'm going to start believing half the shit I'm thinking."

Gojo leans his head back against the wall. "Too late."

She gives him a look.

But he doesn't laugh.

Because neither of them are sure it's not true.

-------------

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[chosoblood888]

CH 2: The Curse of Memory

[ Heart of the Phantom ]

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The air felt different once the blindfold was gone.

It wasn't cursed energy—there was none here. But something still pressed against your chest. Not power, but pressure. You were in a reinforced room—bare, soundproofed, and sealed with layers of suppression talismans embedded in the concrete walls. There was no cursed energy here. Just silence. Cold, clinical silence. A place meant to hold something dangerous—or someone. The faint sensation that someone else had once sat in this room clung to the edges of your thoughts.

Your vision was now unobstructed, and you hadn't cried. Not yet. Maybe your body had already wrung itself dry. Yaga hadn't said much after Gojo welcomed you and explained exactly what's been going on in the Jujutsu world. He told you about the Shibuya Incident—how it tore the city apart, killed many sorcerers, and led to Gojo's imprisonment. He spoke of the power shifts, the resurgence of ancient curses, and how the Culling Game, a deadly ritual devised by a curse user named Kenjaku, loomed over them all. He filled in the gaps you couldn't remember of your own doing, such as the the moment your cursed energy surged while you were unconscious and impacted a couple sorcerers who were trying to get to you after curses had vanished. They became paralyzed for a time, and through it all, it was during a solar eclipse passing that day. For now, that game had been delayed, but the tension remained. Yuji Itadori's execution was back on the table, and Yuta Okkotsu had returned, playing double agent to protect him. The Jujutsu world was fragile—shaken and watching everyone closely.

Gojo was still lingering. He crouched a few feet in front of you, arms draped over his knees, blindfold still in place. You couldn't see his eyes, but you could feel them on you.

"You've got questions," he said casually, like it wasn't obvious.

You hesitated. "I don't know where to start."

There was a pause. You could feel the tension humming between all three of you.

Yaga spoke then, more quietly. "Do you remember anything before you passed out?"

You opened your mouth—then closed it. The memory came in pieces, jagged and disjointed.

"My mom... she had been sick. Bedridden for weeks. I was taking care of her. My dad worked night shifts and barely see him." Your voice wavered. "I don't remember what happened first. There was... something in the sky. I thought it was just my head at first. But then I heard screaming. Glass breaking." My head—my head started pounding like it was splitting open. You pressed a hand to your temple, the phantom ache already blooming again. "I ran outside. Or maybe I didn't. I don't know anymore. Everything blurred so fast. All I remember clearly—what I wish I could forget—was what was left of them. My parents."

You swallowed and looked up. "Why am I here?"

Yaga answered without hesitation. "Because you're alive. But more importantly—because you didn't die when everything else did."

"And we don't know what that means yet," Gojo added. "But I'd like to figure it out before the higher-ups decide this room isn't enough of a cell."

You frowned. "Why are they so curious about my cursed energy though? Isn't it normal for people to have unique techniques?" You think about the person Gojo mentioned and interrupted Yaga when we was explaining the jujutsu society. "I mean..  you mentioned someone who speaks in rice ball ingredients."

Gojo chuckled. "True. But those are techniques the higher-ups understand—or at least tolerate. Yours? Even without knowing the full scope, it's clear it's not just flashy or physical. It's psychological. And the unknown always makes them nervous."

The honesty in his tone surprised you. Gojo smiled, a little softer now. "You're not alone anymore, Y/N. Whatever this is—we'll figure it out."

Yaga crossed his arms. "You need to understand the world you're in now. Jujutsu society—this school, the higher-ups, sorcerers like Gojo and Shoko—it's all structured around one thing: cursed energy. It's the byproduct of negative human emotion. Fear, anger, regret... people leak it without even realizing it. That energy takes form—becomes curses.

"Our job is to exorcise those curses. Protect civilians. But lately, the lines have blurred. After the Shibuya Incident, we lost many of our own. Gojo was sealed. Entire districts were destroyed. Sorcerers turned on one another. Now, the higher-ups are scrambling to maintain control. Yuji Itadori's execution has been reinstated, and Yuta Okkotsu is acting like he's following orders to protect him. We're down in numbers, and we're running out of time. You showed up at the worst possible time—and maybe the most important one."

Gojo, leaning casually near the doorframe, added, "It's not just about protecting you. It's about figuring out where you fit in this mess—and whether you're the anomaly that tips the scales." Yaga gave a final nod. "Right now, the Culling Game is on hold. But it won't be forever. When it starts again, we'll need every possible advantage. That's why you're here." You sat with that for a moment. It wasn't comforting, but at least it was the truth.

You let out a slow breath. "I don't really have anywhere else to go. No family. No home left. If I'm stuck here... it's not the worst thing."

Yaga didn't speak for a moment. Then he turned toward the door. "Rest up. You're going to need it." But then he paused. Turned back to you, voice gruff but not unkind. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere with a bed. You won't stay in this cell forever." You stood slowly, your legs stiff but steady. Yaga didn't offer a hand—he didn't need to—but he waited until you were ready. Then he led you through a dim corridor and up two flights of narrow stairs. The silence between you wasn't awkward. Just... tired.

Eventually, you reached a small room in the West Wing. Stone walls. A barred window. A futon. A desk. Clean, but hollow.

"This'll be yours for now," he said. "Don't go wandering too far. We're still figuring out where you stand." You gave a small nod. He didn't stay long after that. Gojo stayed behind a second longer. His hand rested casually on the doorframe as he looked back at you.

You didn't know what to say, so you just held his gaze.

He gave a faint nod, then stepped out.

The door shut with a click.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Someone knocked the next morning, then opened the door without waiting for a reply.

Shoko Ieiri.

She looked exhausted—half-drunk coffee in hand, messy hair barely tied up. Her sharp eyes scanned you in one glance. She didn't smile.

"Vitals look normal," she said, reading a file. "Brain activity shows overactivity in the amygdala and frontal cortex. Not surprising, considering you manifested your technique mid-trauma." You blinked. She was already pulling out a penlight. "I'm the doctor here. Sorcerer. Medical staff. You can think of me as the one who keeps people breathing around here."

Your mouth lifted slightly.

Shoko examined your pupils, pulse, and reflexes. She worked efficiently, but with enough gentleness that it didn't make your skin crawl. "You'll be on observation until further notice," she said. "Yaga thinks it's best you stay on campus, just until the higher-ups settle on a decision. You're not a student. Not a threat, yet. Just a question mark."

"Great," you muttered. "So I'm a case file now."

Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Aren't we all?"

She hesitated before heading to the door. "There's a lot happening right now. Things you haven't been told yet. You should know—Gojo's return hasn't been made public. Right now, it's basically just you and Gojo here. And that's by design. The higher-ups are panicking. Don't assume quiet means you're safe."

But her voice had softened before she left, just a little. "You've already lost enough. No one's asking you to carry everything alone." The door closed softly behind her.

Under the canopy of the outer courtyard is where Gojo ended up finding you. He stood with his hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his uniform. His white hair caught the late sun, framing his blindfolded face like a crown. Broad shoulders, a deeper quiet in the way he held himself. The blindfold hid his eyes, but not the weariness in the curve of his mouth, the way his stance seemed to carry a weight no one else could see.

"Eventually," he said, tone lighter again but still sincere, "I'll have to introduce you to the others. The ones who are still here, anyway." He paused. "There's Maki—tough as nails, says what she means. Panda's... well, a panda, but don't let that throw you off. And Yuta might stop by, depending on how things go with Yuji."

You glanced up at him, noticing how his voice—usually light and teasing—carried a quieter edge. Like he wasn't just reporting facts, but weighing them. Burdened by them.

You kept walking. Then, softly: "Why are you telling me this?" He didn't answer immediately.

"Because you're in this now," he said. "Whether you like it or not." You stared at him, trying to read what little you could from his voice. "So now what?" Gojo pushed off the post he was leaning on and gestured toward the path behind you. 

"Now," he said, "we see what you can really do."

You blinked. "What?"

"I need to understand your technique," he replied casually, already walking.

A flicker of tension crept up your spine. "You want me to use it? On you?"

"Relax," he said with a smirk. "We'll go somewhere quiet. I just need a peek—what it feels like, how it activates, where your limits are."

You didn't move at first. But then, slowly, you followed. You've already felt comfortable and in control with you powers before, but ever since the incident, you don't know if that changed. "And if I hurt someone?"

His voice came back, low but firm. "Then I'll stop you." That should've felt threatening. But it didn't. It felt safe. In a strange, maddening way. He turned slightly, gaze tilting over his shoulder. "And hey—this won't just be me. You'll meet a couple others. Yuta's dropping by. And Yuji, if he makes it in time."

You stiffened. "Yuji Itadori? The one they want to execute?" Gojo gave a shrug and walked ahead again. You followed him through the halls until the stillness of the West Wing gave way to voices—distant at first, then closer as you reached the training courtyard.

Two figures stood under the tree-lined edge of the field. One was lean and composed, with a quiet calm in his posture. His sword was sheathed at his back. The other was in motion—stretching his arms and bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet like he couldn't stay still even if he tried. Messy pink hair, dark circles under his eyes, but a light in them that made it clear he hadn't burned out yet.

They both looked up as Gojo stepped forward, waving like it was the most casual meetup in the world.

Yuji grinned. "Hi! I'm Yuji. You're the one from the eclipse thing, right?"

Huh?

Oh right. Yaga had mentioned my technique or something spilling out of me when I was unconscious. I guess that's the important piece for them to understand what about me they're dealing with..

Yuta offered a polite nod. "Don't worry. We're not here to overwhelm you. I'm Yuta, nice to meet you."

Gojo gestured between you all. "Alright. Let's keep things simple. Y/N, we're just here to see how your ability responds to focus. No pressure. No expectations. We're here to learn—especially you."

Yuji stepped back with a thumbs-up. "I volunteer as tribute!" No fear in their eyes. Just curiosity. And for once, it didn't feel like you were under a microscope the way you thought you would if someone did learn about your technique. So maybe you did belong here.

Gojo stood behind you, arms crossed. "Whenever you're ready." 

You felt his presence more than you heard his words—like gravity shifting slightly around you. 

Yuji stood across from you on the training field, his uniform sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing toned arms still scraped from recent fights. His pink hair was windswept, sticking up like he'd run his hands through it too many times, and the faintest scar rested beneath his eye. He grinned with nervous energy, but his eyes were warm—open, even after everything.

You, on the other hand, wearing soft clothes given to you by the school. You felt out of place, half-worn down with your usual shoes you'd wear every day, maybe the only thing you still have left from that eventful day. You took a breath. Your hands trembled slightly at your sides. Yuji stood a few feet away, patient. Braver than you felt. "I call it... Phantom Mirage," you said softly. 

You met Yuji's eyes—and the world stilled. It hit like a soundless impact—no blast of energy, no flash of light. Just silence.

Yuji froze mid-breath. And then the world around you shifted.

You were no longer in the courtyard. The air grew heavier. Yuji was there, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Across from him stood a figure—grinning, twisted, eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.  Slender. Inhuman. The edges of his form shifted like a bad dream trying to take shape. Whoever this was, his presence reeked of something you couldn't explain—but your stomach turned just looking at him.  You didn't know him—but you knew enough to be afraid.

The memory pulsed like a heartbeat.

Yuji twitched and paused. 

And out of nowhere, he launched forward, screaming—a sound torn from someplace deep. Not at you, but at the illusion. His fists moved fast—desperate, relentless—but no matter how hard he struck, the figure danced just out of reach. Like a memory he couldn't kill.

Again.

And again.

A flash—for some reason what it looked like hammer nails on the floor, faint blood trailing toward a cracked wall. A voice echoed briefly, warm and weary, though you couldn't place it. But something about it made Yuji's breath stutter.

Yuji dropped to his knees, staring at the figure like the weight of the vision alone had crushed him. His chest heaved with the effort of breathing, as if the memory itself had tightened around his lungs.

Your chest tightened. You were caught in the illusion yourself as well. Usually you'd be able to go back and forth on the real world and what your technique is showing, but this wasn't your illusion, it was his. 

 The illusion cracked. The courtyard slammed back into place like a shutter snapping open. Yuji staggered, nearly falling to one knee. You stumbled too, heart racing.

Gojo caught you before your balance gave out.

Yuta was already beside Yuji, steadying him.

The silence was thick.

Then Yuji exhaled. "It felt real."

You swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to—"

He shook his head. "No. It was already there. I just... didn't expect to see it again."

You looked away, ashamed. You felt like you'd torn a memory open you weren't supposed to see. Even now, the echo of his pain clung to you—sharp, and startlingly familiar. Like grief had brushed your own bones through him.

Yuta didn't speak, but his eyes lingered on you-- measuring something he couldn't quite name. Gojo's grip was steady, but he didn't release you right away. Not until your breathing had evened out.

You stared down at your hands. They weren't shaking, but they should've been. I didn't choose that, you thought. You hadn't tried to pull anything from Yuji. There had been no intent, no direction—only a name for your technique and eye contact. Yet somehow, his memory surfaced like it had been waiting for you. Like his grief had been itching for a stage.

"I wasn't trying to see that," you murmured. Your voice was quieter now, rawer. "It just... happened. I didn't even shape anything. It was already there, and I couldn't stop it." The truth settled heavily in your chest. You weren't just unlocking doors—you were being dragged through them. What if I can't control this?

---------------------

He'd seen a lot of things over the years—more than most people should. But the girl sitting in that cell? She wasn't like the others. Gojo didn't need to see her cursed technique in action to recognize its weight. The way Yaga described it—he was afraid of what the higher-ups might do if they did get scared.  Gojo remembered when Yuji had been in that same room, defiant and grieving, alone but trying not to show it. It was strange, seeing the echoes now. Different kids. Same system. Same silence between the questions. He didn't want her to be another piece on the board. Shoko was one of the few people he trusted to see through the fear and treat Y/N like a human instead of a hazard. Gojo hadn't said it aloud, but he knew Y/N's power couldn't be measured with cursed energy scales or technique theory.

After testing her technique on Yuji, he saw what lingered on Y/N's face afterward wasn't fear—it was guilt. And Gojo knew that look. He'd seen it in the mirror after Riko, after Geto, after everything. The kind of guilt you carry because you walked through a door that couldn't be closed. He wouldn't say it out loud—not yet—but in that moment, Gojo decided something quietly, as he did when it cme to Yuji and Yuuta. If the higher-ups wanted to treat her like a chess piece... they'd have to go through him.

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[chosoblood888]

CH 1: What The Eyes Remember

[ Heart of the Phantom ]

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📄 CLASSIFIED: Internal Jujutsu Society Briefing

Unidentified Cursed Event – Tokyo Ward 7 (Shibuya Zone)

Approximately three weeks after the Shibuya Incident, a large-scale cursed phenomenon occurred during the solar eclipse. The event resulted in the untraceable erasure of approximately 10% of the remaining active curses in the district.

A previously unidentified girl was discovered at the center of the phenomenon, unconscious and emitting unstable traces of cursed energy. Subject is now in Jujutsu High custody under observation. Surveillance has been heightened ahead of the delayed Culling Game.

---------

A voice ..."If you ever feel lost in the illusion, follow the thread. I'll be at the end."

---------

Darkness. Not the peaceful kind—the kind that breathes, presses, and lingers like smoke against your skin.

The world is silent, but it hums. A deep, low resonance thrums through your bones, like something ancient murmuring just beneath the surface of your consciousness. Your fingers twitch first—numb. Then your breath stirs. Shallow. Controlled. Not yours.

Fabric rests over your eyes, soft but tight. A blindfold. Instinct tells you to panic but you hold it.

You shift, and the floor beneath you is cold and smooth. Stone, maybe. Somewhere underground, judging by the air—still, heavy with the smell of dust, incense, and something faintly metallic. Like old blood.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Coming closer.

"You're awake," the voice says, calm and deep—but you don't recognize it. It sends a chill up your spine. You don't know where you are, and you don't know who this man is. All you know is that his tone holds authority... and caution.

You sit up too quickly, a dizzy wave crashing through your skull. Panic rises in your throat as unfamiliar surroundings blur in your limited senses. "Where... am I?" you rasp, unsure if you're speaking to yourself or the presence nearby.

"Easy," the voice says. "You've been out for a while. I had to keep your vision covered for everyone's safety. Including yours probably."

Everyone's safety?

You reach up, brushing the cloth tied around your face. Before you can pull it off—

"If you're thinking of removing that blindfold," he warns, "I'd advise against it. Not until we know you're in full control."

Silence falls. He lets the weight of his words settle over you, then adds in a more formal tone: "I'm Masamichi Yaga. Principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High." You blink behind the blindfold. 

The words mean nothing to you, and he was clearly aware of it.

"Jujutsu High is... a school. We train sorcerers—people who can see and manipulate cursed energy. Our job is to protect civilians from curses." You hear his steady steps walking from one side of the room to the other. "I assume you know what curses are as y—"

𝙲 𝚄 𝚁 𝚂 𝙴 𝚂 .

You flinch, and Yaga takes note of it as he pauses. A flicker cuts through the dark behind the blindfold—blood, screams, twisted shapes in the shadows.

You remember.

The last thing you saw before everything went dark: your parents. Or what was left of them. Their bodies broken. Torn. Consumed.

By them.

Your breath hitches. The memory crashes down in sharp, fractured pieces. You remember the fear. The way your body responded before your mind could catch up. The way something in you snapped. The world tilted, and everything went quiet—until it wasn't.

You remember looking into their eyes. Not your parents. The monsters. The curses. As you let the endless memories try to fill the hours you've lost, your head begins to throb. Was it because you used your power? Was this aftershock? Or was it because that night was... something else entirely?

"You unleashed something," Yaga continues, watching you carefully. "There was no one around your body within a mile other than a few curses who never stopped being paralyzed.  We had sorcerers around the area who ended up forced into a state where their bodies also couldn't escape for about three hours after whatever you did when they tried to get close to your body. Paralyzed them on the outside, but clearly got them reacting to something internally. All we know is it caused majority of the curses we were tasked to eliminate to be completely gone."

You swallow hard.

"You must know something about it."

You do. Not everything. You shift slightly. The weight of silence presses against your chest. You don't trust him—not yet. Not when you've woken up blindfolded, in a place you don't know. You shift again, slower this time. Your voice is quiet—not hostile, just tired.

"I don't really know what you want me to say. This wasn't something I planned... or wanted." He doesn't interrupt. You can't tell if he's judging or listening, but either way, it doesn't matter. You sigh, long and low, like it's the only thing keeping your head from spinning. You end up sharing whatever may help to get you out of this situation. 

"When someone looks into my eyes, I can pull them in. And once they're in, I can shape what they see. What they feel." you admit softly. "It's like I guide them through something their mind already fears—or longs for." You pause. "It's not random. I can control the illusion. Shift it. Bend it. Sometimes I make them relive something painful. Other times, it's... quieter. But it always feels real to them."

"That explains a bit. At least why they were just standing still in front of you.. but other than that.." Before Yaga continues, I interject. "When it comes to curses... I'm not much use. Most of them don't even have eyes I think? And I've always—always—been too afraid to really look." You don't know much about the history or existence of curses other than what you can only assume. You've treated them the same as people stating they can see ghosts, except obviously curses can definitely hurt you, kill you.

"I don't recall much and honestly I have bad memory to begin with, but I'm aware of curses since I was 12. My mother knew as well and would protect me, she had her own abilities but we never got in touch with our techniques. She mentioned to me a while back about sorcerers but she never pushed on opening that door and exploring, especially since my father was your average person. i just remember her always wanting us, for me, to be happy and safe.."

I didn't realize I was letting out a whole story to Yaga until the pain knowing they're both gone, my chest feeling tight. 

It's been a bit more than a decade since I saw a curse for the first time, and I remember the couple times after my technique never working on them. Or maybe I've just never really tried. I wonder why it's even a cursed technique if I can't kill curses with it.

______________________

🌀 Inside the Phantom Mirage

When someone locks eyes with you, reality snaps in an instant. Their body freezes in the real world—sometimes mid-step, mid-sentence, or mid-attack—because their mind is no longer anchored to the physical plane.

Y/N creates in real-time (like a puppeteer behind the curtain), manipulating the environment, dialogue, even memories. Emerges naturally from their own subconscious—a scene, dream, or memory pulled from deep within them. Depending on your intention or emotional state, you can either curate the mirage or let them fall into themselves.

Sensory Realism: They can feel pain, warmth, fear, love. Their body reacts in the real world (sweating, trembling, crying) even though nothing physically touches them.

Time Distortion: Hours can pass within the illusion, while only seconds tick by outside. Some come out disoriented, mentally exhausted, or even temporarily broken.

Frozen Reality: Most victims are motionless unless they are extremely strong-willed or have mental resistance techniques. Even sorcerers like Nanami or Mei Mei would pause if caught off-guard.

Level 1: Memory Dive

Victim relives a real memory. You can interfere or observe.

Triggered by subtle focus; calm mental state

Level 2: Constructed

You control the illusion. Fabricate scenes, loop emotions, manipulate outcomes.

Triggered by focused state—revenge, defense, interrogation

If they're not emotionally or spiritually fortified, the Mirage can cause severe psychological damage—especially if you force them to relive a traumatic memory over and over in a time loop.. but would why you want to do that?!

______________________

The world outside this room isn't peaceful. Tokyo is still recovering from the chaos of the Shibuya Incident—an event that left much of the city in ruins, countless sorcerers lost, and the Jujutsu world shaken to its core. Trust in the system is thin. Fear lingers. And in the aftermath of Gojo's sealing and unexpected return, tension among the higher-ups is only rising. With the Exchange Event delayed, an annual tournament meant to build camaraderie between schools, there's more scrutiny than ever on new anomalies—like you.

A new voice interrupts.

"A blindfolded mystery girl, huh? Yaga, are you replacing me already? I thought I was your favorite secret weapon."

You flinch slightly at the sudden shift in energy. The presence that enters the room is casual, confident, and entirely unbothered.

"Gojo," Yaga mutters with a sigh. "Aren't you supposed to be—"

"Please, continue." You hear the scrape of a chair dragged backward, on purpose—for drama.

"So," he says, clearly smiling, "you're the girl with the eyes, huh?"

You don't answer, but he continues casually, "Satoru Gojo. Teacher. Sorcerer. Possibly fan favorite?"

"He's not here to teach," Yaga clarifies. "Only to observe. For now. The higher-ups want someone like him involved." He turns to you again. "What's your name?"

You hesitate.

"...Y/N," you say finally.

You can feel both of their eyes on you—even if yours are still covered. You bite the inside of your cheek. This world you've woken into feels more uncertain than the one you left behind.

Your fingers drift to the edge of the blindfold. "Can I... take it off?"

Yaga doesn't answer right away. But Gojo? He grins.

"Sure."

Your hand hovers for a second longer. "I'm not using it," you whisper. "I promise. My eyes... they're just eyes right now."

Gojo nods once, as though you'd be able catch his small movement at this instance. Your fingertips find the knot. You hesitate—then pull. The cloth slides away. And the moment your eyes open, the air shifts.

"Trust me," Gojo says with a half-smile. "Waking up in strange places? Blindfolded? Welcome to the club."

There isn't much light, but enough to sting your eyes. You blink a few times, focus returning slowly. The man in front of you is tall, relaxed in the chair, a blindfold of his own resting over his eyes. He radiates power—not in pressure, but in presence. To the left, Yaga stands still. Solid. Unshaken. But even he looks a little more guarded now.

Gojo sits back on his heels, giving you space.

Then he speaks again—quieter this time, like he sees more than he lets on. "They're all afraid of what they don't understand... I've always liked breaking the rules."

Yaga speaks after a beat. "Ahem.." His tone remains calm, but there's a flicker of something softer beneath it. "You don't have to tell us everything. But we need to know exactly what we're dealing with here."

A long silence.

Then, Gojo offers you a smile—lighter, but laced with curiosity.

"Welcome to Jujutsu High, Y/N."

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[chosoblood888]

Intro: Reader Background

[ Heart of the Phantom ]

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Name: 𝚈/𝙽 (Your Name) Origin: Unknown (human, no confirmed sorcerer lineage) Status: Civilian anomaly placed under Jujutsu High protection

Jujutsu Society Classification Status: Unranked

Clearance: High-threat anomaly under surveillance

Purpose: Observation, emergency deployment, possible disposal if uncontrolled

⚠️ If you're here for the juicy lore... welcome~

You grew up unaware of the full Jujutsu world but aware of the existence of curses and sorcerers. Raised by normal, loving parents—until the day your home was attacked by curses. Your parents were taken right in front of your eyes. In that moment, something inside you snapped... more than just your usual Phantom Mirage technique you've always had.

Your ability stems from an unknown, ancient curse lineage that never fully integrated into the established Jujutsu world. Since Phantom Mirage requires direct eye contact to activate, facing curses or enemies without eyes (or with some form of resistance to visual-based techniques) creates a serious challenge for you as you have no physical strength. You're significantly weaker than even the average first-year sorcerer and to be honest... you're like every other human without training. Because your ability blurs the boundary between reality and illusion in people's minds, even seasoned sorcerers struggle to counteract it. However, you have minimal control over your powers, and prolonged use drains you quick enough to make you easily vulnerable.

🌘 𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚃𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎: "𝙿𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚖  𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎"

A rare and enigmatic innate technique which allows you to trap a target in a hyper-realistic illusion by making direct eye contact. When activated, your eyes turn a vivid purple, signaling the release of your cursed energy. Within the illusion, time is distorted—what feels like hours inside occurs in mere seconds in reality—making it an effective tool for psychological manipulation, interrogation, or incapacitation. They can smell, touch, and feel pain—but nothing physically happens to them. It's psychological, yet their body reacts as if it's real (sweating, screaming, convulsing). 

Illusion Manipulation: Create hyper-realistic illusions that feel indistinguishable from reality.

Time Distortion: Inside the illusion, time moves slower than reality—what feels like hours in the mirage happens in seconds outside.

Activation Condition: Requires direct eye contact to trigger the illusion.

🌙 Celestial Event Enhancements

Your powers appears to resonate with celestial phenomena, unpredictable boosts--or dangerous consequences. This includes:

🌕 Full Moon  🌑 Lunar Eclipse 🌘 Solar Eclipse

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[chosoblood888]

○ Heart of the Phantom ○

Reader x JJK Male Characters

A slow burn romance that ends up becoming a thread of drama, lust, and tangled relationships.

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After the chaos of the Shibuya Incident, an unexplained cursed phenomenon during a solar eclipse wiped out 20% of the remaining active curses in the ward-and at the center of it all, an unconscious girl. You are brought to Jujutsu High-not as a student, but under surveillance, protection, and to understand your abilities.

As you navigate the world of Jujutsu sorcery, your power and technique deepens-especially under the moon's eerie glow-as your existence may be tied to an ancient curse long forgotten. With the higher-ups keeping a close eye and secrets lurking around every corner, you must learn to trust yourself... even as certain sorcerers start to blur the lines between ally, danger, and something more.

Disclaimer: This is an alternate universe of Jujutsu Kaisen. Certain events, character fates, and alliances have changed. This is a fan-made work based on the universe of Jujutsu Kaisen, which is owned by Gege Akutami, Shueisha, MAPPA, and other rightful holders. I do not own any official Jujutsu Kaisen characters, settings, or world-building elements. This story is purely for entertainment and non-commercial purposes.

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