The Little HealerWarning 18+ gore and mature content.
Suguru was exhausted—and bored out of his mind. Especially his legs, which ached after standing like a statue for almost two hours while his mother browsed through clothes for him. At least the tailor lady was kind enough to be as gentle as possible with all those needle pricks.
"Now, which one do you prefer, sweetie?" the tailor asked, holding up two boys' suits in slightly different colors and styles.
Suguru eyed them for a moment, debating. He just wanted something that wasn't too complicated to wear—something easy to move around in.
"The navy one, please,"
The tailor smiled at his choice, nodding as she reached for it.
"Okay—"
"No! No! Absolutely not!" His mother's voice cut through the air like a whip. "The brown one is much more suitable for you, honey!"
Suguru sighed. He should've expected this.
"But I don't like the brown one," he argued. "It has too many buttons. Besides, you told me I could choose the color. I want the navy."
"And you look disgusting in it. Trust Mommy's decision, honey. We're taking the brown one. Now go change immediately. I'll be waiting in the car."
And just like that, she turned and walked out, leaving no room for discussion. Grumbling under his breath, he reluctantly obeyed. The tailor just gave him a slow, pitying smile as she led him toward the changing room.
"This way, sweetie."
---
On the drive, Suguru leaned against the window, one arm resting on the ledge as he stared outside. Sleep tugged at his eyes, the exhaustion from last night's cursed spirit hunt weighing heavily on him. He tried to doze off, but every time he drifted even slightly, his mother smacked his head.
"Don't sleep in the car! It's improper! Besides, we're almost there— so be patient,"
She'd said the same thing two hours ago. And yet, here they still were.
With a flat expression, he watched as she erased and fixed her makeup for what felt like the hundredth time.
Today was an important day for the Getou.
A few days ago, the local government hospital in Sendai has collapsed—but miraculously, not a single person died.
The public saw it as a testament to what a great leader Getou Masakazu, his father, was. He had been desperate for recognition for years, and now, with everyone's attention on them, his parents wasted no time in using the opportunity to their advantage.
His father announced a fundraiser—a grand event where wealthy donors would be gathered. Rumor had it that one of the Big Three Jujutsu Clans would be attending, making this an even rarer occasion.
Even though Suguru was expected to be promoted to Special Grade as soon as he entered Jujutsu High, he was still the son of a non-jujutsu family. That meant most high-ranking sorcerers from prestigious clans wanted nothing to do with him.
To them, a non-jujutsu's blood was worthless—something they wouldn't even acknowledge.
But today, one of those powerful clans had willingly chosen to attend. His parents weren't about to let an opportunity like that slip away. They wanted to raise their family's status in front of these important guests—by any meansnecessary.
"We're here!" his mother suddenly announced.
As soon as he stepped out of the car, camera flashes went off from all directions. Reporters and journalists swarmed the area, snapping photos as he and his mother walked hand in hand toward The Hospice, which had been converted into a temporary hospital.
Suguru scanned the crowd. Guests in expensive dresses and tailored tuxedos moved about, chatting near the entrance.
What surprised him, though, was the lackofcursed spirits.
Usually, events like this—luxurious gatherings filled with high-society elites—birthed at least grade three or four cursed spirits.
Many of the guests secretly despised one another, smiling through gritted teeth while harboring deep grudges.
And on top of that, the event was being held at a Hospice—one of thestrongest breedinggrounds for curses.
It didn't make sense.
How is this possible?
Before he could dwell on it, his mother placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice dripping with forced sweetness.
"Now, sweetie. Follow that nurse and greet the patients in need. And remember, always be perfect. Smile, no matter what you feel. Okay?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Good. Don't disappoint me and your father."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there alone.
Suguru exhaled slowly through his nose, preparing himself for what was to come.
This is going to be a long day.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Yuna sat frozen in her living room, her face burning red as Megumi clung to her lap, still sniffling from his earlier meltdown. Meanwhile, Shizuka was practically wheezing with laughter at the sight of Natsuto dabbing ointment on the growing bump on his forehead.
Across the room, Grandpa Haru and Wasuke were struggling to calm little Kokichi and Yuuji, who had burst into tears in pure baby sympathy after seeing Megumi cry.
And then there was little Sukuna. The only one not crying. Instead, he sat eerily still, watching the chaos unfold with a disturbingly cynical expression—like he was questioning how he ended up surrounded by such idiots.
What the hell just happened?
Five Minutes Ago…
Yuna groggily woke up, immediately registering two things:
1. Toji wasn't beside her. (Extremely rare—her husband was a chronic late sleeper on his days off.)
2. Her head was still spinning from yesterday's mess.
Right. She passed out. ( Stupid cancer.)
But her husband wasn't in bed.
And it was already daylight.
And most importantly—
Did Megumi eat yet?
Yuna dragged herself out of bed, still half-dazed, but the moment she stepped into Megumi's room, she snapped wide awake.
Her son wasn't there. At all.
Panic kicked in immediately, made worse when she heard an unfamiliar male voice coming from the living room.
Heart pounding, she grabbed the first thing she could find—a frying pan—and tiptoed toward the source of the voice.
"I'm gonna get you and eat you. Come out, come out now, kid."
The voice was deep, playful, but very much threatening to a half-awake,protectivemother.
Yuna peeked around the corner and found a blonde hair man crawling around her living room like some horror movie villain.
Her blood ran cold. A damnkidnapper.
She could already hear Toji's voice in her head, full of unbothered, semi-violent wisdom:
"Swing it like they still 'owe you one'!"
So she did.
TANHGG!
And that was how she ended up here.
Yuna swore to herself, gripping her son blanket tighter as she tried to process the chaos that had unfolded.
I shouldn't listen to my husband's violent suggestions ever again!
She cursed inwardly, feeling a flicker of annoyance toward said husband, who was—where, exactly?
Meanwhile, at a McDonald's in the next town over, Toji was mid-stakeout, casually munching on a burger while tailing his target from a distance. Well, was munching—until a chunk of meat lodged itself in his throat, sending him into a violent coughing fit. Several patrons turned to stare as he pounded his chest, reaching for his soda with slightly watery eyes.
' Someone's talking shit about me,' Toji narrowing his eyes suspiciously before slurping his drink.
Back at the house, the air was much lighter—well, for everyone except Yuna, who was still reeling from secondhand embarrassment.
" I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I was panicking! I thought you kidnapped my son!"
Shizuka, the cause of her humiliation, only laughed harder, barely holding herself up. Natsuto, meanwhile, gave a thin smile, lifting a single thumb as if it were some grand gesture of absolution.
"It's alright," he said, which somehow made it worse.
"D-does your face still hurt? Should we call an ambulance?" Yuna asked, her worry outweighing her shame.
" Nah, I already checked him. He's good. Just a mild bruise and maybe a tiny concussion," Shizuka replied, still chuckling.
Natsuto, his forehead slightly bumpy, gave Shizuka a flat look. " I'm fine," he assured her—though his slightly wobbly stance said otherwise.
Yuna groaned, want to sinking further into the blanket. "Okay… but can someone please tell me what happened after I passed out?"
What followed was a retelling so ridiculous that Yuna had to focus very hard not to pass out again.
Apparently, after she had fainted, the Itadoris and her husband turned into headless chickens, taking turns watching over her as if she were some critically endangered species.
The rotation continued until only Wasuke and Naoya were left at home to take care of her.
Jin had to rush off for work emergency, Kushina was, in Wasuke's words, "Busy trying to make a cure, dattebane," and Naoya—unsupervised and dangerously under-stimulated—decided that he was not about to spend the entire day just staring at a sick person.
So, naturally, he wandered over to Grandpa Haru's house, knocked on the door, and when Shizuka and Utahime answered, said:
"Wanna help take care of a sick person?"
And so, thanks to Naoya's laziness—ahem, strategic delegation—their household suddenly gained three (four including Natsuto) more caretakers.
And then the neighbors got involved.
The conversation at Grandpa Haru's house had been LOUD.
Loud enough that curious ears picked up bits and pieces, which led to more people offering their assistance. Soon, the entire village knew Yuna was sick.
And because small-town hospitality was terrifyingly efficient, by the time she woke up, people had already dropped off food, medicine, and even hand-knitted socks (which, she had to admit, were very cozy).
Yuna, still lying on the couch, looked at the pile of offerings and tried to process how a simple fever had turned into a community event.
"...Did I die and get a funeral without realizing it?" she muttered.
She was truly overwhelmed. Back in the city, no one ever did this kind of thing for her. Well, maybe Granny Kikyo—though the last she heard, the old woman had passed away in a car accident ( may she rest inpiacespeace).
As for the rest of the household, with so many people stepping in to help, Naoya—dragging a begrudginglycooperative Utahime—decided to take a break by wandering the village. Shizuka, Wasuke, and Grandpa Haru had gone out to buy food for the day, which meant...
Natsuto was left as the sole babysitter for Kokichi, the twins, and Megumi.
Yuna looked at him with renewed pity.
"...Do you.... want an ice pack for your forehead?"
"... Yes, Please."
.
.
.
.
.
Suguru did what he had always done for the past eleven years of his life.
He called it The 4E—Smile, Wave, Value, and Take.
Smile at others. Wave slightly—just enough to make himself seem approachable. Value the opportunity. And Take the chance—whether it meant adding another cursed spirit to his already vast collection or securing a useful connection.
It had been nearly forty minutes of socializing with hospice patients. To him, it felt like an eternity. So many people, so many (fake) kind smiles and meaningless waves, all under the guise of the dutiful son. Giving them (false) hope that everything would get better when, in reality, their days were already numbered.
Why does he even need to greet these old monkeys people?
They'll probably drop dead any day now.
The only silver lining in this tedious meet-and-greet was the complete absence of cursed spirits. Every time he stepped into a new room, there was nothing. No lingering malice, no grotesque entities whispering in the shadows.
It was… unusual. But he wasn't about to complain.
At least today, he wouldn't have to consume any disgusting creatures. His taste buds were spared, if only for now.
"Did we finish greeting all the patients?" Suguru asked as he strolled beside the nurse assigned to him.
"Well, Getou-san—"
" Please," he interjected smoothly, flashing an effortless smile. "Just call me Suguru. No need to be so formal. Getou-san is my father."
The nurse chuckled softly, charmed. "Oh, aren't you sweet? If you insist, you can call me Naomi-san. Or even Naomi-chan, if you'd like."
Suguru merely smiled, neither agreeing nor declining.
"We just have two patients left," Naomi continued, gesturing toward the far end of the corridor. "They're both boys around your age. They have a condition that makes it hard for them to speak, but they're very bright! You'll probably love them—they might even become your new friends, Suguru-kun."
"Wow, really? That's great, Naomi-san," his lips stretching into yet another well-practiced, hollow smile.
Inside, disgust churned in his stomach.
Friends? With hospice patients? With non-jujutsu who are indirectly responsible for my fate—dooming me to spend the rest of my life eating cursed spirits just to 'help' them?
As if that would ever happen.
"Hey, guys! How have your days been? Everything okay?" asked Nurse Naomi, smiling as she stepped into the room.
Inside, another nurse sat beside two boys who were busy playing chess.
"Oh, hi, Naomi! We're fine, just playing a little. Who's the handsome little guy next to you?"
Naomi chuckled. "Let me introduce you all. This is Getou Suguru. He's the mayor's son and decided to come meet you all for today's event."
"Nice to meet you all. Just call me Suguru. I hope we can all be good friends," Suguru said, wearing his signature fake smile as he gave a small bow.
"Oh, so polite, Suguru-kun!" The older nurse clapped her hands together. "My name is Chen Meili, but everyone calls me Nurse Chen. And this one behind me is Tanaka Akira, or Akira-kun." She gestured toward a bald-headed Japanese boy peeking out from behind her like a wary kitten.
"Hello, nice to meet you, Akira," Suguru greeted, only to receive a small, hesitant wave before the boy quickly hid behind Nurse Chen again.
"Sorry, Suguru-kun. Akira is a little shy. And this is Hamada John, but we usually call him JoJo," she continued, pointing to the black-skinned gaijin boy sitting in a wheelchair, busy arranging the chessboard.
Hearing his name, John—JoJo, whatever—waved enthusiastically.
"Hello, JoJo, right? Nice to meet you," Suguru said.
"Y-yes… N-nice to meet y-you too, Sug-suguru!" JoJo stammered excitedly, his words barely making it out before a spray of spit landed on Suguru's hand.
He's a fucking disgusting monkey.
Suguru wiped his palm against his pants, resisting the urge to grimace.
Naomi, oblivious to his inner suffering, smiled. "Well, that's the end of the tour. Do you want to stay for a bit or head back to the main hall, Suguru-kun?"
"I should probably go back. My parents are probably already worried about me," he lied effortlessly.
As if they missed him. They were probably too busy socializing with other monkeys.
"Okay then—"
"Wait, Suguru-kun!" Nurse Chen suddenly cut Naomi off.
Suguru fought the urge to sigh. "Yes, Nurse Chen?"
"Akira just whispered to me… he wants to know if you'd like to play with them."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Akira and JoJo are really good at chess, card games, all sorts of things! But they've never had a third player their age. You could play together!"
"Well—"
"It'll be so much fun!"
Suguru's patience cracked.
"NURSE CHEN!"
The room fell silent.
Suguru exhaled sharply before forcing a practiced smile back onto his face. "It sounds so lovely and fun," he said. "But my parents have me on a strict schedule, so I really need to go. Maybe next time?"
The excitement drained from Nurse Chen's face. Akira's hopeful expression faltered.
"Oh… alright then. Sorry for bothering you, Suguru-kun. See you next time?"
"That's fine, Nurse Chen. Apology accepted. See you all next time—"
Just as Suguru was about to walk out, a voice muttered behind him.
" P-pussy…"
His footsteps halted.
Slowly, he turned around, his fake smile still intact, but his gaze sharp as a blade. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. What. did. you. just. say?"
JoJo, gripping the edge of Nurse Chen's sleeve, met his stare. "I s-said… Y-you're a P-pussy."
"LANGUAGE!" Nurse Naomi shrieked.
"OH MY, JOJO! WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT WORD?!" Nurse Chen scandalized.
Meanwhile, Suguru's patience reached a breaking point. His veins twitched at his temple.
"I AM SO SORRY, SUGURU-KUN! HE DIDN'T MEAN IT! JOJO, SAY SORRY TO SUGURU-KUN RIGHT NOW!" Naomi frantically pleaded.
"N-no."
"HAMADA JOHN!"
Akira immediately averted his gaze, pretending to suddenly be very interested in his own clothes buttons rather than seeing the fight that's happening right in front of him.
Suguru exhaled through his nose. " Oh? I'm a pussy? You sure you're not talking about yourself?"
"I-I am n-not a pussy like y-you! I'm not af-afraid to play c-chess!" JoJo shot back.
Suguru blinked. Then scoffed. "I'm not afraid of playing chess! I'm a prodigy! I've been playing since I
was five!"
JoJo smirked at him. "P-prove it."
Suguru felt his eye twitch.
This. Monkey.
"Oh, I will."
.
.
.
.
.
.
"This is life... hmmnn..." Naoya sighed in pure bliss, stretching lazily under the shade of a massive tree. A warm breeze, the gentle rustling of leaves, the soft murmur of the river—perfection.
No annoying tutors barking at him to train till he dropped dead.
No backstabbing uncles or cousins waiting for a chance to kill him.
No dumbass Toji screwing up everything in sight.
No fucking Gojo.
Just him, nature, and the best goddamn garlic bread he'd ever eaten.
"...This is life."
"You've said that like five times already, dumbass," Utahime muttered.
Naoya blinked. "Oh, shit. Forgot you were still here, hag."
Utahime rolled her eyes. "How the hell do you 'forget' someone sitting right next to you?"
"Selective memory. A gift, really," Naoya said, taking another slow bite of his bread, looking annoyingly smug about it.
"So, what, you dragged me all the way out here just to watch you eat?"
"Nah. I just needed a solid excuse to ditch the house. You were... 'convenient'."
"Oh, so I'm your scapegoat."
"Scapegoat is such an ugly word," Naoya said with a shit-eating grin. "I prefer 'decoy.'"
Utahime let out a slow, sarcastic clap. "Wow. A decoy. How romantic. You must love me."
Naoya snorted. "I pity anyone who loves a hag like you."
"I JUST TURNED THIRTEEN, YOU ASS!"
"Exactly. A hag."
"You're such a piece of shit," she grumbled. "I'm going for a swim. And don't even think about peeking, you perv."
Naoya didn't even look up. "No one wants to see your flat-ass tits, relax."
Utahime's eye twitched. "They're still growing, you fucking Slacker!" she snapped before stomping toward the riverbank.
Muttering curses under her breath, she searched for the perfect spot to swim. Then—Bingo.
A massive banyan tree leaned over the water, its thick branches stretching across the river, casting the perfect shade. No blazing sun. No annoying Naoya. Just peace.
Now, if only she could drown his smug ass while she was at it.
Utahime slipped out of her clothes and waded into the slow-moving river, the cool water wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. The dizziness and anxiety that had been clawing at her all day began to melt away as she sank deeper, letting the gentle current soothe her.
She took a deep breath before dipping her head underwater, watching as tiny river fish darted past, their scales glinting in the sunlight filtering through the surface. The world beneath the water was quiet, undisturbed. Peaceful.
After a while, she pulled herself up and leaned against a smooth river rock, still half-submerged. The water lapped lazily at her skin, and she let out a long, contented sigh.
This… this is good.
Definitely better than the so-called " luxury" of bathing in the private hot springs inside her grandfather's estate.
No ever-watchful maids hovering around her.
No guards lurking nearby, pretending they weren't monitoring her every move.
No angry grandfather shouting at her for "wasting time" in the bath after training. Or scolding her—yet again—for eating too much.
A simple wish of hers had always been to bathe in nature, to just soak under a waterfall, let the rushing water drown out every unnecessary thought. Kyoto had plenty of breathtaking waterfalls, and she'd long dreamed of visiting one.
But that was impossible.
Her grandfather, and even her mother at times, never let her venture into the forest alone. Too dangerous, they'd say.
Too unpredictable.
You never knew when someone, desperate and hopeless, might take their life in the dense woods or by leaping off a towering waterfall. And when that happened? They wouldn't just leave behind a tragedy.
No, they'd create something worse—second-grade, maybe even special-grade cursed spirits, lurking, waiting for fresh prey.
So, yeah. Any dream of sneaking off alone into the wilderness? Dead on arrival.
But here, in this quiet village, Utahime hadn't seen a single cursed spirit lurking in the shadows.
Not even the smallest, weakest one. The usual heaviness in the air that came with their presence? Nothing.
How?
Even her mother had no clue.
"It's a miracle," she had said once, voice filled with quiet disbelief.
And Utahime had to agree.
For once, at least one of her wishes had come true.
She leaned her head back, staring at the sky, letting herself enjoy the moment. Then, with a soft sigh, she muttered, "Man… if only Shoko was here too. That would make this perfect."
She wondered how her friend was doing.
Would Shoko be pissed at her for n
ot replying to her letters?
Yeah… probably.
Crackle. Crackle.
Utahime froze.
A sound—soft but distinct—echoed not far from where she was. Her body tensed instinctively, muscles coiled, senses sharp. Every instinct screamed at her to step back, to move away from the unknown.
But curiosity had a way of sinking its claws into her heart.
Taking a slow breath, she steeled herself and crept toward the source of the noise. The sound came from behind a dense cluster of bushes, the leaves rustling ever so slightly.
'Come on, you got this. You're strong enough to take down a third-grade curse on your own!' Utahime reminded herself, though her heartbeat quickened just a little.
Carefully, she pushed aside the foliage—
And blinked.
No cursed spirit. No lurking predator.
Just… a koi fish.
A pure white koi, stranded on the damp earth, its body wriggling desperately in search of water.
"Oh, poor thing." Utahime exhaled, shoulders relaxing as she knelt down. Gently, she scooped up the fish, its smooth scales cool against her palms. With careful hands, she lowered it back into the river.
"Here you go."
For a moment, the koi remained still.
It didn't thrash. Didn't rush away.
Instead, it stared at her—its dark, glassy eyes locked onto hers, something almost… knowing in its gaze. Utahime shivered, feeling a strange weight settle in her chest.
Then, as if the moment had never happened, the koi flicked its tail and disappeared beneath the water.
She blinked again. Was she hallucinating?
Before she could dwell on it, a loud, obnoxious voice shattered the quiet.
" Oi! Hag! Where the hell are you?! We need to go home—pack your shit!" Naoya's voice rang through the trees.
Utahime groaned, snapping out of her trance. "Alright, alright! Have some patience, asshole! I'm still naked!"
Silence.
Then a disgusted yell. " Ugh! What the fuck—keep that information to yourself, you freak!"
Utahime chuckled, shaking her head before making her way back to shore.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"I'm home!" Jin called out as he stepped into the house, taking off his shoes at the entrance.
"Welcome home! How was work, son?" Wasuke greeted him, pausing his sweeping.
Jin grinned. "Got some good news! But first—where's Kushina? I haven't seen her all day. Do you know where she is, Dad?"
Wasuke frowned, tapping the broom handle against the floor as he thought. "Now that you mention it... I don't think I've seen her either." He turned toward the hallway. "Hey, Nao! Have you seen Kushina around the village?"
Naoya, halfway to the bathroom, only shrugged in response, too busy brushing his teeth to bother answering properly.
"That's weird… Anyway, what about Yuna-san? Is she still out cold? Do we need to watch her and Megumi again tonight?"
"Nah, she woke up this afternoon. Right now, she's over at Haru's place with his daughter and granddaughter. They offered to keep an eye on her tonight,"
Jin exhaled in relief. "That's good. Well, I gotta head out again, Dad. Just start dinner without me." He was already slipping back into his jacket.
"Where are you going now?!"
"To find Kushina!" Jin called over his shoulder before disappearing out the door.
____
Jin wandered through the village, asking around for Kushina. If she had gone to the market, there were a few people she would have stopped to see. But no one had seen her.
Eventually, he made his way to Matteo's bakery, though the idea of seeing Matteo didn't sit well with him. If anyone had run into Kushina, it would be him.
Matteo looked up from the counter as Jin approached. "Sorry, Jin. No, I haven't seen her."
Jin frowned. "You sure? Not even earlier today?"
"Nope. I've been working in the fields and kitchen all day." Then, as if remembering something, he added with a small smile, "But if you do find her, tell her my bakery is always open for her."
Jin's eyebrow twitched. His bakery? Always open for her?
He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to let it go. Not the time, focus.
Still, it annoyed him more than he cared to admit.
He kept searching, even stopping by the ramen shop where he and Kushina had eaten together before. But there was no sign of her anywhere.
By the time he got back to his car, the sun had nearly set, the sky turning dark. A light drizzle began tapping against the windshield, and the air felt heavier with the promise of rain.
Then his phone rang.
Ring... Ring...
He answered quickly. "Hello?"
"Jin, you found her, yet?" It was his father's voice, filled with concern.
Jin tightened his grip on the phone. "No... She's still not back?"
"No! And you better come home soon, son. Looks like it's gonna rain hard."
Jin exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Alright... I'll be back soon."
But even as he hung up, his thoughts refused to settle.
Where is she?
Did she get lost? Maybe. Did she make new friends and stay over at their place? Could be… but it was weird that no one had called their landline, like Yuna had in the past.
Or—his chest tightened—did she finally find a way to go back home?
No. No way. Even if she had, she wouldn't just leave without saying goodbye…
Would she?
Jin clenched his jaw. "No, no—bad thoughts, go away," he muttered, shaking his head.
Then he remembered.
Last night, she had asked for permission to go practice. And there was one place he hadn't checked yet.
The forest behind the village.
Without hesitation, Jin started the car and drove off.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"
Dozens of identical copies of Kushina immediately scattered, each taking their designated positions. A soft green glow of chakra shimmered in their hands before flowing into the lifeless koi fish before them.
What was she doing?
Kushina was experimenting—trying to fuse medical ninjutsu with nature chakra instead of her own. According to her clan's scrolls, nature chakra had far greater healing properties than regular chakra, capable of regenerating missing limbs and organs. If that were true, it could be a game-changer.
She had spent nearly twenty hours deep in the forest searching for nature chakra, unsure if it even existed in this world. But to her relief, it did. It was there—just hidden.
Unlike in her world, where nature chakra flowed freely in the air, here, it was buried deep within the earth, sealed so tightly it was almost impossible to access. And considering this world wasn't even supposed to have chakra—only cursed energy, curses, and other unnatural forces—its existence felt like a Miracle.
But that was just one hurdle.
Medical ninjutsu already demanded intense focus and precision. Combining it with nature chakra?
That was like trying to melt hardened glue in a cauldron with tiny, perfectly placed flames. One wrong move, and the glue would either harden further—or explode. Even for her, it was beyond difficult.
Sweat clung to her skin, her body aching from exhaustion. She was sure she smelled awful after spending nearly two days straight in the forest, experimenting nonstop. But she didn't care. Her friend needed her. Yuna needed her. There was no time to waste.
One by one, some of her clones began to vanish—half of their bodies turning to stone before crumbling into dust. Another failed attempt. They had miscalculated the ratio between nature chakra and medical ninjutsu.
Kushina scowled, crossing out another failed formula in her notebook. She was currently testing a 4 NC (Nature Chakra) / 6 MN (Medical Ninjutsu) ratio. But at this point, she was running on fumes. Her chakra reserves were thinning, her body felt like lead, and her mind was a mess.
And then—because Lady Misfortune loved her, apparently—the sky darkened, and rain began to fall.
Great...
Kushina slumped onto the muddy ground, too tired to care as the rain soaked through her clothes. She stared at the results of her work—dozens of lifeless, stone-like koi fish littered around her.
All of them. Failures.
She clenched her fists, her heart sinking deeper into her chest.
Maybe Hiashi was right. Maybe she really was just a reckless, idiotic knucklehead.
Maybe she would never find her way home.
Maybe she really would lose everyone she loved again… just like before.
Her vision blurred, but before the first tear could fall, a voice cut through the rain.
"Kushina? KUSHINA?! Are you alright?!"
Her body tensed as she turned toward the familiar voice.
Jin.
He rushed toward her, gripping a large umbrella, shielding her from the pouring rain. His expression twisted in worry as he took in her soaked form, sitting motionless in the mud, eyes hollow, face pale with exhaustion.
Seeing her like this… broke something in him.
Without a second thought, Jin dropped to his knees and pulled her into a tight embrace, ignoring the rain soaking through his own clothes.
Kushina didn't move. Didn't push him away. She just sat there, her face buried against his shoulder, as silent tears finally slipped from her tired eyes.
Jin tightened his hold.
"Kushina…" his voice was softer this time, almost pleading. "Let's go home. Everyone's worried about you."
"..."
He exhaled, resting his chin lightly on her wet hair. "It's okay. You can try again tomorrow… but for now, let's just go home."
A pause.
Then, finally, she nodded.
Jin pulled back just enough to look at her, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Together."
Kushina hesitated, then slowly reached up, gripping the front of his shirt. "...Yeah."
Jin helped her to her feet, keeping an arm around her shoulders as they walked back—together—under the pouring rain.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The muffled sounds of moans seeped through the thin apartment walls, growing louder as the night dragged on. It was already past 2 AM, but the couple in one of the rooms showed no signs of stopping. The rhythmic creaks of the bedframe, the gasps, the desperate cries—it all blurred into a background hum, a familiar melody in this shitty, suffocating space.
The apartment itself was barely a matchbox, just 10 meters long and 5 meters wide—a single adult bedroom with a bathroom, a cramped living space, and a closet-sized storage room shoved into one corner. A place where there was no real privacy, no real silence, and for some… no real home.
This isn't their story, though.
This is hers.
The girl curled up in the tiny storage room, her body thin and frail, barely taking up space. The oversized clothes she wore hung loosely, swallowing her frame, the fabric too big, too worn-out, too not hers.
Her brown hair was a tangled mess, unwashed, falling over her face in limp strands. She pressed her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them like a makeshift shield against the cold, against the hunger, against the loneliness she had stopped trying to name.
She should be asleep. She wanted to be asleep. But it wasn't the noise keeping her up—not the moans, not the way the walls trembled under the weight of two people too wrapped up in each other to care about anything else. That shit didn't matter anymore. It was just there.
White noise.
Meaningless.
No, what really kept her awake was the dull, gnawing pain in her stomach.
Hunger.
She exhaled slowly, pressing her lips together as if that would keep the ache from spreading deeper, as if it would make the sharp twists in her gut go away. Maybe if she stayed still long enough, it would just stop.
But she knew better.
Still, she just had to wait a little longer. He would come.
Then—
"Cit... cit..."
Her breath hitched. The soft squeaks echoed from the other side of the door, barely audible over the distant sounds of pleasure. She lifted her head, dull eyes flickering with the faintest glimmer of something—hope, maybe—before the small figure finally appeared.
A tiny shape slipped through a narrow gap in the door, dragging something along with it—a single cracker, clenched between tiny teeth.
A ghost of a smile tugged at her chapped lips.
"…Thank you, Sebastian," she whispered, her voice raw and barely there.
She reached out, taking the cracker with careful fingers, as if it were something fragile, something precious. The little mouse let out a soft squeak in response, watching as she nibbled on the cracker like it was a goddamn feast.
When she was done, he scurried up her arm, nestling into the mess of her hair like he belonged there. Like he was trying to keep her warm in the only way he knew how.
She let out a slow sigh, feeling the tiny warmth against her scalp. Her only friend.
No—her only family.
Minutes passed in silence, the ache in her stomach still lingering, but now… maybe it was a little more bearable.
Eventually, she shifted, reaching under a loose floorboard, her fingers brushing against the rough edges of something hidden. Carefully, she pulled out a stack of old, worn papers. Letters—ink fading, creased edges curling.
The only proof that someone out there remembered she existed.
The only sign that maybe—just maybe—she wasn't entirely alone.
Here's the revised version with better flow, a fanfiction-style tone, subtle depression, and apathy from Shoko's perspective:
---
"Hey, Shoko. How are you doing? I just finished training when I got your letter. My body feels like crap, and I just wanna lie down for a bit, but my grandfather always loses his anger if I do that. Oh, and send my greetings to Sebastian. —Hime"
___
"Hey, Shoko. How's Sebastian? Is he doing okay? You said he was sick, right? I snuck into the garden and grabbed some herbs that might help him. Hope they work. —Hime"
___
"My mom and grandfather have been yelling nonstop these past couple of weeks. I caught some of it before my grandfather's maid shoved me away. Someone in the clan's probably getting married? Maybe my mom. That'd explain all the screaming. Anyway, here's a little money. Sorry, I can't send more. My grandfather never lets me hold too much cash. 'Only men can have that kind of money, not women. Go back to training and cooking,' he said. Yeah, I know—freaking ridiculous. —Hime"
___
"Me and my mom have been secretly packing our stuff. She says we need to leave. But don't worry, I'll still write to you like always. Take care, Shoko. And seriously, don't eat food that's been on the floor. —Hime"
And that was the last letter.
It had been nearly three months since then. Three months of silence, of waiting, of checking for letters that never came.
Shoko kind of missed her.
Was she even alive? Did she find a new friend? Someone better? Someone not her?
Maybe. Probably.
And honestly? Shoko would never know.
The only thing she did know was that, at this rate, she was going to die alone. Her asshole sperm donor wouldn't give a single shit, and when her body started to rot, Sebastian would probably be the first to take a bite.
And weirdly enough… she wasn't even mad about that.
It's good ending, just enough for her.
GBRAKK!
"RENJI! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, YOU BASTARD?!"
The apartment door slammed open with a deafening crack. From the narrow gap in the storage room door, Shoko saw a woman in a soaked mini dress storm inside. Her dripping wet clothes left dark stains on the carpet, but she didn't seem to give a shit. Her expression twisted into something even nastier when she heard it—the moans. Loud, shameless, echoing from behind the flimsy wooden door of the bedroom.
Her face darkened.
With a snarl, she kicked the bedroom door open.
A chorus of yelps, the sound of things crashing to the floor, curses flying left and right—Shoko listened, barely blinking. The next thing she saw was the woman yanking another naked woman out by the hair.
The homewrecker shrieked, nails clawing at the woman's grip, her body slamming against the walls and furniture as she was dragged across the floor. She fought back, scrambling for anything to use as a weapon—a fucking toaster pan, a lamp, whatever she could reach.
Then he appeared.
Her sperm donor.
Also naked. Also panicked. Pathetic.
"YOU BITCH! HOW DARE YOU SLEEP WITH HIM WHILE I'M STILL HIS GIRLFRIEND?!" the woman in the mini dress screeched, eyes wild with fury.
The homewrecker sneered, still panting from the struggle. "Don't fucking play innocent! YOU FUCKED MY EX WHEN I WAS STILL WITH HIM! HA! Bitch, that's karma!"
"YOU FUCKING WHORE, I'M GONNA KILL YOU—BOTH OF YOU!"
"BABE, STOP! LISTEN TO ME! I CAN EXPLAIN!"
And just like that, they were back at it—screaming, hair-pulling, scratching, tearing each other apart while the useless excuse of a man tried (and failed) to separate them.
They didn't notice it.
But Shoko did.
The sheer rage, the malice boiling between them—it festered, grew, twisted into something unnatural. The air thickened. Curdled.
And then, it was born.
A cursed spirit.
It emerged from the shadows, hunched and grotesque. Its body was rail-thin, its skin stretched tight over its skeletal frame. Long, clawed fingers twitched eagerly at its sides. It had no eyes—just sunken, hollow pits where they should have been. Its sagging, bare chest rose and fell as it breathed, standing tall over the screaming trio.
Shoko didn't move.
She watched as the creature lifted its clawed hands—so casually, so effortlessly—before sinking them into the women's hair.
A gurgled scream. Their bodies convulsed, feet leaving the floor as the spirit lifted them higher, higher—their throats constricting, air ripping from their lungs as they struggled to breathe. Nails clawed at the creature's grip, but it didn't matter.
With a wet, sickening crunch—
Their skulls burst like overripe fruit.
Shoko barely blinked as blood sprayed the walls, dripping down in slow, lazy streams.
Her sperm donor—ever the coward—turned and bolted for the door. He didn't even make it three steps before the cursed spirit was on him.
Teeth tore into flesh.
He screamed.
Bones crunched.
He fell.
His legs were gone.
He kept screaming.
His torso was split open.
His screams turned into wet, gurgled gasps.
And then—nothing.
The room smelled like fresh blood.
Shoko could still hear the squelching sounds of chewing.
Then, slowly—so fucking slowly—the cursed spirit lifted its head.
Its eyeless face turned.
And it started walking towards her.
Her heartbeat spiked. She wanted to move, wanted to run, wanted to scream—but her body stayed frozen, rooted in place as the monster stopped right in front of the storage room door.
Then, with one, sharp pull, the door was torn open.
Shoko barely had a second to react before a clawed hand wrapped around her throat.
Her lungs burned as the cursed spirit lifted her off the ground. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision, her legs kicking weakly in the air.
Something small and warm darted from her hair.
Sebastian.
The little mouse launched at the cursed spirit, tiny teeth sinking into its wrist—
It barely noticed.
The creature's grip tightened.
Her mind felt sluggish. Her fingers twitched, curling weakly around the hand strangling her.
And then—
A sharp, brutal crack rang through the air.
Blood splattered across her face.
The cursed spirit froze—
Its head was gone.
A voice—low, distant, unknown man—murmured something in the background, but Shoko couldn't process it. The world was tilting, her vision fading—
And then, she was falling.
And everything went black.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Author Note : When I mean fix-it tags in AO3, I mean I will fix it all. Shout out to Shoko, one of our underated Characters of Jujutsu! ✨
Rate this chapter 1-100!
And remember to comment 💕