Chapter Text
the woods have never been yumemi's favorite place. the way the trees creak, the leaves crunch under her shoes in the dead of night, the rustle and scurry of an unidentifiable creature in the cold darkness; all of it is unbearably creepy.
it doesn't help that there are rumors of a ghost lying among the branches.
she was born in the city, the only trees in sight being neatly planted in rows along the streets outside her apartment. when they were all clustered together like this, thin stretches of white bark in the flashlight of her cell phone, it was unsettling. maybe she'd watched too many slenderman videos when she was younger.
curses were close to the stuff she'd imagined in her nightmares; the ones where monsters would chase her in her sleep and she'd have her mother cradle her in her arms — that is, before she was gone. being a sorcerer is a lonely job, one that doesn't save time for parents.
regardless, she's seriously going to tear gojo a new one for this mission.
the soft whistle of the wind picks up in volume, and yumemi shivers in her stationary place among the damp autumn leaves. she manages to take another step, and then another, and then another until she's walking again, phone clutched in her hand. its flashlight is null against the looming blackness.
where even is this curse, anyways?
gojo had said it'd been in a clearing, and given her alone specific instruction to come here. so, on top of sending her to an unnecessarily creepy forest, he's sent her out to supposedly meet a cursed spirit in the middle of some open space somewhere. was at least a smidge of context that hard to give?
i suppose, thank the stars it isn't raining, yumemi thinks as she maneuvers around a log lying dead in the mud. she catches a glimpse of something moving in the corner of her eye and freezes like a deer in headlights. the blur of her peripheral vision barely makes out a smokey black tendril curling around the peeling bark of an old tree to her right.
how often do forest fires start around here?
but no, it couldn't be that type of smoke. the lingering scent of the same rains that wettened the ground underneath her feet would have prevented a fire. either way... it's concerning. forsaking her better judgement, yumemi takes another step closer.
upon further inspection, there's an entire patch of the tree cut out and marked with a series of odd scores. secret codes and such— is that a love umbrella? she squints, trying to make out the names under it. both are nearly unintelligible, but maybe, if she looks closer...
suguru
huh. it's not a name she recognizes at first glance, but it sounds familiar on her tongue. maybe she's heard it in a passing conversation? regardless, the other name is completely unintelligible. whoever wrote these has awful handwriting, and an awfully big knife. though, there's something even more odd about these grooves.
she shrugs off the unsettling feeling that follows her as she trudges through the uncomfortable humidity of this forest. if she was scared the moment her foot had broken a miraculously dry stick half an hour ago, the overwhelming darkness enveloping the entire space causes clusters of goosebumps to prickle at her skin.
another tendril of inky smoke billows into view, covering a larger area at the base of a tree split brutally in two. the damage is blackened, too, but the fracture in its middle proves it wasn't the work of whatever the smoke is, nor an axe. it's likely it's just storm damage.
investigating the patch of black at the base, her eyes widen. she crouches, craning her head closer. this isn't just an odd coincidence, she realizes as the blackness reveals tendrils of dark red.
these are residuals.
she's found it.
special grade cursed spirit, name unknown. the only time it's ever been seen was by one person: gojo satoru, her teacher. it hides itself from others. or, at least, that's what she's been told.
following the trail, her phone's flashlight flickers and she spots another carved out gash in a tree, complete with the same scores from earlier. however, there's a second set of scores, smaller and more neatly carved. she reaches out a freckled hand to trace the grooves, and under her fingertips, she notices they're words.
how have you been?
i have to leave
don't visit me tonight.
complete gibberish is written under the second sentence. a series of nonsensical dashes and dots, slashed up and...
hold on, is this morse code?
she traces some of the dashes, pulling a scrap piece of paper — she'd acquired this from passing notes with haruka — from her pocket. she breaks a piece of bark off the tree, dips it in the mud by her shoe, and attempts to transcribe the words.
.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-
-.-. --- -- . / ...- .. ... .. - / -- .
.... --- .-- / .. ... / .- -. --. . .-.. ..--..
yumemi wishes she knew morse code by heart. she places the scrap back in her pocket to save for later, ignoring the chill that flows down her spine. she turns around, met face to face with an entity — its left eye is closed, its right obstructed by a white spiral, hardened and square. the color in her face drains at the sight.
is this it?
she studies its curious desaturated face, a red mass covering the right half under the strange spiral. it has hair, weirdly enough, black and curling around the wind. it's dressed in a white yukata, folded left over right. it raises a hand, fingers black and sharp — claws.
this is it. this is the curse i've been looking for.
the curse pokes yumemi in the shoulder, and she winces as its claw hooks under her uniform top. it jerks its hand back like it's touched a hot iron. she watches as it plucks a splinter out of its claw, seemingly watching her with intent despite the closed eye. the strip of red under said eye piques her curiosity.
"who are you?" she whispers in the night, cocking her head. it does the same in response, and she's unsettled by how familiar the motion is. it doesn't respond, not verbally. aren't special grades supposed to talk? or is this like the one gojo told her about, with the eyestalks and the odd language that translates regardless?
it noses its way to the tree behind her, peeling off the outer bark. messily, it gouges the wood, forming the same incoherent dot-dash messages she'd seen earlier. so this was definitely the one who made them... it makes sense. this curse doesn't have a mouth, at least not visibly. it turns its head back to yumemi, and then to the message, and back again. she cocks her head.
"you want me to read it?" she asks, studying her vague reflection in its earrings. what an odd looking curse, she thinks as she steps closer to the tree and squints.
--. . - --- / ... ..- --. ..- .-. ..-
"i don't understand. i can't read morse code," yumemi sighs, and the curse remains blank-faced. it turns back to the message, silently drawing a cross through the dashes. there's a tiny flash of violet for a moment, and it turns its head back, its left eye open and glowing. the spiral on its right is spinning counterclockwise.
the familiarity of the color, like its mimicking her actions, sends an unsettling chill down her spine. gojo never described what the curse looked like — which is a really stupid idea when you're sending someone on a mission, she gripes — but there's something eerily similar to her about it. she twirls one of her own black sideburns in her finger, noting that the curse's is the same shade.
it turns, again, to the clear bark, and presses a claw to the wood, starting another drawing. a little round circle, a strip in the middle, spikes at the top, a small downward curve below the dark strip.
is that gojo?
"do you know him?" yumemi asks, pointing at the drawing. it's just finished drawing gojo's cuff earring when it nods. so it can translate her words, but she can't do the same. that's annoying. she reaches out to trace the jagged lines of gojo's awfully drawn face, watching as the curse seems to smile. confused, she only lowers her hand to her side.
the curse's hands are lowered as well, resting against its sides with its claws withdrawn into the long open sleeves of its yukata. she takes notice of its lack of feet or legs at all, instead replaced by a obsidian mass of wispy smoke. she'd heard stories of creatures like this — yūrei, she remembers — but never believed them. yet, this one doesn't look like a traditional yūrei like the ones she'd seen in story books.
this is, without a doubt, definitely a cursed spirit.
she watches as it turns away, its billowing dark hair swaying softly in the calm breeze. it seems awfully docile next to her, not at all the way gojo had described it. maybe he'd just been spooked? that doesn't seem right, not when this curse seems almost... friendly.
it hovers gently away from her, its striking violet eye meeting her own indigo pair as she's beckoned over. she follows it through the forest and over muddy, bug-infested logs, untrimmed grasses stroking at her leggings uncomfortably. itchy, sure, but she needs to keep her guard up.
and, soon enough, the clearing opens up before her. it doesn't stick out very much, but this is exactly what gojo had described. two small tree trunks, a stream filled with the falling leaves of autumn, the grass's emerald blades wavering with the wind. she looks over at the curse, whose violet eye studies her curiously.
"do you live here?" she asks, wondering if it's getting annoyed with how many questions she's been bombarding it with. it cocks its head again, mauve iris darting from feature to feature as it analyzes yumemi's young face. she backs up a little, and it blinks, deciding to close the eye again. the spiral stops spinning.
it seems to watch as yumemi takes a seat on the smaller of the two tree trunks despite having its eye closed. that eerie knowing stare behind the lid had her averting eye contact.
it lifts an arm, peeling off its sleeve. raising the other hand, it taps the charcoal expanse of its forearm. "what does that mean?" she asks, and the curse continues tapping away. "do you want me to write this down?"
the curse opens its eye again. so, it has two ways of communicating, but both are in a code yumemi has never learned nor had any interest in doing such. it nods, and yumemi pulls out her scrap paper, cursing herself for the lack of a pen. it notices, placing its claws on the trunk beside her and fishing around in the broken crack of the wood. it pulls a small black ball pen out, marked in silver sharpie. she studies the name written.
satoru
maybe it's a keepsake. it is odd, though; isn't satoru gojo's first name? why would he be carrying a pen around just for this ghost? the latter holds the pen out for yumemi, and she takes it, wincing as its claws graze her hand and leave a prick of beading blood. it lowers its head in nonverbal apology.
she holds the pen gently in her own hand, and the curse reveals its forearm again, poking it. she pokes her scrap paper in response, and it seems to chuckle at her mimicking action. it taps, and she writes.
i'll translate it tomorrow.