Too late (4k)

Mashiro drew Murasame back into her body and glanced down at the little holes the venom had eaten through her sleeve, paying them no mind.

She raised a hand and formed a ball of water, washed her face and hands, then took out her phone to message Nanami.

"Mashiro": Semi-Special Grade exorcised. Mission complete.

"Nanami": Thanks for your hard work. Any injuries?

"Mashiro": No. It was the kind I counter well.

"Nanami": Good. Just find someone from Window and finish the cleanup.

"Mashiro": OK.

Mashiro opened her chat with Satoru Gojo again. Even after all this time, he still hadn't replied.

That was very unusual. She frowned and sent another message.

"Mashiro": Where are you?

About half a minute later, the screen lit up.

"Satoru Gojo": Still in a meeting. Only just saw your messages. Those old geezers have been talking since yesterday afternoon, right through to this morning. I'm about to fall asleep. Sorry.

A meeting?

An ominous feeling crept into Mashiro's heart.

More than a day had passed since she'd messaged Satoru Gojo. That meant he had spent the entire night in a meeting in Kyoto.

And on that same day, she had received an urgent assignment outside her usual area.

No, no! No wonder I didn't see Satoru Gojo at Jujutsu High yesterday.

She reopened her chat with Nanami.

"Mashiro": Nanami, does Itadori have a mission today?

Nanami's reply arrived almost immediately.

"Nanami": I'll check.

"Nanami": The Juvenile Detention Center. Window rated it Grade 2. Fushiguro and Kugisaki are with him, so it should just be a routine exorcism. Hasn't he contacted you yet?

The Juvenile Detention Center! Mashiro's expression changed.

She hadn't expected it to happen so soon. It had been less than five days since Itadori enrolled, and the Higher-Ups were already moving against him.

Without replying, Mashiro turned and ran down the mountain, immediately calling Satoru Gojo.

It rang twice before he picked up.

"Mashiro?" Satoru Gojo's voice came through the speaker, sounding a little surprised. "It's rare for you to call me first. What's wrong?"

"You're in Kyoto?"

"Yep, in a meeting. Boring as hell. These old geezers-"

"Go back to Tokyo right now. To the Juvenile Detention Center."

The other end went quiet for a second, then Satoru Gojo's tone changed. "What's going on?"

"I'm on an emergency mission in Saitama, and you're in a meeting in Kyoto," Mashiro said. "Window assigned Yuji a mission at the Juvenile Detention Center."

"..."

"Satoru Gojo, they're luring us away. They want Yuji dead."

She heard a chair being pushed back over the phone.

Satoru Gojo's voice turned cold, without a trace of his usual flippancy.

"Fuck. I'm heading back right now."

"Okay."

Mashiro hung up and raced toward Tokyo at full speed.

When the liaison at the foot of the mountain spotted Mashiro, she came forward. "Miss Kujou, is it dealt with?"

Mashiro didn't slow down, sweeping past her like the wind. "It's dealt with. Handle the rest yourselves."

The liaison adjusted her glasses, watching Mashiro's back rapidly vanish from sight, and muttered, "What's the rush? Did something happen?"

Mashiro raced onward, wind roaring in her ears, her thoughts in turmoil.

She knew what she should do. As someone who had transmigrated here with knowledge of the plot, following its course was the safest choice.

Itadori would die once, form a Binding Vow with Sukuna, then come back to life. That way, she could keep control over how Sukuna changed bodies.

If she changed the plot here, what other methods would Sukuna use? How would Kenjaku adjust his plans? With all those variables piling up, the entire timeline could be thrown into chaos.

She couldn't bear the consequences.

But there was another voice in her heart.

It was the promise she'd made to the old man in the Sendai hospital: she would keep Yuji Itadori alive.

It was the hand she'd held out to Itadori beneath the streetlight, telling him he wasn't alone.

It was the boy's radiant smile on the rooftop even after she'd kicked him twice, the smell of sukiyaki drifting through her home on the day she moved in, the boxed lunch she received at her front door every morning.

Now that she knew the Juvenile Detention Center was a death trap meant for Yuji Itadori, was she still supposed to let things take their course?

Mashiro gritted her teeth.

If Itadori died at the Juvenile Detention Center this time, what did her promise amount to? Empty words? How could she ever face him again?

But if she saved Itadori now, and he never formed that Binding Vow with Sukuna, who would bear responsibility for the uncertainty ahead?

The two voices tangled in her mind, neither willing to yield.

She remembered the morning Itadori brought her breakfast.

The boy had stood at her door, handing her the lunch box and telling her to save him dinner. His smile was exactly the same as the first time she'd seen him at the dessert shop. He trusted her without hesitation.

And all she'd done then was nod.

Mashiro took a deep breath and surged forward.

"Following the plot is the right choice, but I don't want him to die," she told herself. "That's not how a transmigrator should think, but it's my responsibility as his sister."

She pushed off harder, flooding her legs with cursed energy and accelerating again.

"Yuji Itadori, you'd better hold on."

Sukuna drove an elbow into Nue as he carried Fushiguro through the air, sending both boy and bird crashing to the ground, unable to rise.

"Cough... I'd better dismiss you before you're destroyed." Megumi Fushiguro stroked Nue's head and released the cursed technique.

Sukuna landed before him. "You gambled your life on something utterly meaningless."

Megumi Fushiguro sighed, forced himself to his feet, and formed a hand sign.

"Furube, yurayura, eight-handled-"

Before he could finish, his eyes widened. The curse markings on Sukuna's body were gradually disappearing.

Yuji Itadori had forced him back down.

"I'm not a champion of justice. I'm a jujutsu sorcerer." Megumi Fushiguro slowly lowered his hands. "I've never regretted saving you."

"Is that so?" Itadori smiled faintly. "You're smart, Fushiguro. I'm sure you've thought about this more than I have."

He scratched his head. "Even though you're right, I still don't think I was wrong."

"Someone taught me to help others, and someone else taught me how precious life is."

"Looks like my time's almost up. Ah, and I was still hoping I'd be able to protect her someday."

He looked at Fushiguro, a hint of pleading in his eyes. "Take care of her for me. Don't let her be too sad."

"You guys... live long lives, okay?"

With that, his body fell to the ground and went still.

Megumi Fushiguro clenched his fists and lifted his head in grief. "You bastard. How am I supposed to tell her?"

A moment later, Fushiguro sensed a familiar fluctuation of cursed energy.

Gojo-sensei!

Satoru Gojo landed, gravel scattering beneath his feet.

Megumi Fushiguro hurried over, his voice hoarse and thick with tears he couldn't hide. "Gojo-sensei... Itadori..."

He couldn't go on.

Satoru Gojo didn't answer. He walked over to Itadori and crouched beside him, removed his blindfold, and stared down at him for a long time.

The last trace of a smile still lingered on the boy's face.

Satoru Gojo reached out and gently wiped the blood from Itadori's face with his thumb.

"Fushiguro."

"...Yes."

"You did everything you could."

Fushiguro kept his head lowered so Gojo couldn't see his expression. His throat bobbed as though he were forcing his emotions back down.

He gritted his teeth. "I was useless. He told me to take Kugisaki away, and I did. He stayed here alone..."

"Enough." Satoru Gojo didn't sound angry with him, and that only made Fushiguro feel worse.

He rested a hand on Fushiguro's head and gave it a gentle press.

"Where's Kugisaki?"

"I already had Mr. Ijichi drive her back."

"Good." Satoru Gojo stood, put his blindfold back on, and hoisted one boy over each shoulder. "Let's get back first."

The treatment room's lights were painfully bright.

Satoru Gojo gently laid Itadori's body flat on the table.

The boy's body had already gone cold. The hole in his chest had been temporarily sealed with a cursed-energy filling, but everyone knew that was merely a formality.

Without a heart, a person couldn't live.

He stepped back and sat down in the chair.

Kiyotaka Ijichi stood in the doorway, looking even paler than usual.

Satoru Gojo exhaled. "This was deliberate, wasn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Ijichi's voice trembled.

"The enemy was Special Grade, and they sent first-years." Satoru Gojo's voice was flat. "If Mashiro hadn't called me, I wouldn't even have known."

"But when they went, we didn't know it would become Special Grade..."

"Tracking down the culprit would be a hassle," Satoru Gojo said, his voice brimming with murderous intent. "Maybe I should just kill all those bastards at the top."

Ijichi held his breath, not daring to answer.

Just then, Shoko Ieiri came in. "It's rare to see you get emotional. Did you care that much about this kid?"

"I've always been a good teacher." Seeing a familiar face, Satoru Gojo calmed down. "Who issued the mission notice?"

"I checked." Ijichi's fingers trembled slightly as he opened his tablet. "The issuance record lists the Jujutsu High Affairs Department, but the process logs were overwritten six hours after the assignment was sent. The physical file was taken away this morning, and the signature field was left blank."

"So there's no name on paper."

"That's right. The only trace is an automated dispatch instruction in the electronic system that doesn't require an approver's name. Technically, anyone could have done it."

Satoru Gojo said nothing.

Anyone could have done it. By the rules, it was spotless, without a single flaw. The cleanest method was to never leave behind a signature, only an order that had to be carried out.

The Higher-Ups didn't need to put their names to it. They only needed to make sure Satoru Gojo was outside Tokyo and Mashiro was away from Itadori, then have the mission delivered right on schedule to send him to the Juvenile Detention Center.

"So this is Sukuna's vessel?" Shoko Ieiri asked, looking at Itadori lying on the table. "I can dissect him as I see fit, right?"

"Do a good job. I still have to answer to his sister," Satoru Gojo said with a nod.

"Of course I'll do a good job. Who do you think you're talking to?"

Satoru Gojo gradually relaxed as well. With Shoko here, there might still be a way.

"Where's Fushiguro?" Satoru Gojo asked.

"In the hallway. He said he wanted to wait until Miss Mashiro arrived before leaving."

"Have him come in."

Ijichi acknowledged him and went to fetch Megumi Fushiguro.

When Megumi Fushiguro entered, the wound on his shoulder had just been bandaged. A small patch of dark red was seeping through.

He stood beside the door without approaching the treatment table. His expression was colder and stiffer than usual. His gaze fell on Itadori as Shoko Ieiri examined him, then quickly shifted away.

Satoru Gojo leaned against the wall. "How's Kugisaki?"

"A concussion and two cracked ribs. She should recover in three or four days." Megumi Fushiguro's voice was hoarse. He paused. "Itadori... asked me to pass something on at the end."

Satoru Gojo looked up at him.

"Take care of her for him." Megumi Fushiguro repeated Itadori's last words. Though he didn't name her, everyone knew whom he meant. "He said not to let her be too sad."

Satoru Gojo watched Megumi Fushiguro. His right hand gripped the hem of his uniform, his knuckles tight.

It wasn't only grief. There was anger too, anger at his own helplessness.

"The three of you went on that mission together, and he chose to stay behind and cover your retreat," Satoru Gojo said. "You didn't fail in your duty, Fushiguro. He made his own choice."

Fushiguro merely kept his head lowered and said nothing.

He understood, but how could he accept it?

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, fast and urgent, then stopped outside the treatment room.

Bang.

The door struck the wall as it was shoved open, making a dull crash. Everyone in the treatment room turned to look.

Mashiro stood in the doorway, her silver hair plastered messily against her cheeks. Her tracksuit still bore several corrosive marks from the Saitama mission. Her rapid breathing gradually steadied, her chest rising and falling less with each breath.

It was obvious she'd sprinted the whole way.

Her gaze passed over Satoru Gojo and Fushiguro and settled on the treatment table.

For several seconds, the room was utterly silent.

Mashiro took a moment to catch her breath, strode into the room, and stopped in front of the treatment table.

Shoko Ieiri glanced at her, then silently stepped back to give her space.

Mashiro looked down at Itadori's face, at the face death had stripped of all expression, at the curve of his lips that hadn't quite faded.

The boy really had been smiling at the end. He'd known what his choice meant, and then calmly accepted his death.

I'm sorry. I'm such a failure as your sister.

She raised her hand and gently brushed aside the tuft of pink hair matted with blood on Itadori's forehead.

Then she withdrew her hand and let it hang at her side, her fingertips trembling slightly.

It wasn't grief. She wasn't sure, but in any case, it wasn't only that.

"From Saitama to Tokyo, from Kyoto to Tokyo. Going out of your way to pick somewhere so far away-you really went to a lot of trouble."

Killing intent spread through the treatment room.

Satoru Gojo turned his head, his gaze settling on her beneath his blindfold, but said nothing.

She turned to face the others in the room, flames flickering in her crimson eyes beneath the lights.

"Neither of you needs to blame yourselves. This is on me," she said. "Fushiguro, did he say anything?"

Fushiguro looked up at her. The girl's expression was calm.

But the flames burning in those crimson eyes told him that the angrier she became, the calmer she grew, and the calmer she grew, the more frightening she was.

"He said someone had taught him to help others, and someone else had taught him how precious life was." Fushiguro spoke slowly, relaying every one of Itadori's last words to her exactly as he had said them. "He said his time was almost up, even though he'd still been hoping he could protect you someday. Then he said..."

Fushiguro paused. "He said he wanted us to live a little longer."

Mashiro stood there looking at Fushiguro. Her lips moved, but then she lowered her head, her silver hair hiding her face.

When she raised her head a few seconds later, her expression was just as calm as before.

"Live a little longer," she said, gently stroking his hair again. "Since when did you get to lecture me?"

Mashiro took two steps away, giving Shoko back her place, and nodded to her. "Sorry for the trouble."

Then she turned to Satoru Gojo, the killing intent in her voice gradually drawing inward. "Satoru Gojo, they'll pay for this."

Satoru Gojo straightened and smoothed the creases in his uniform. "Ijichi, go get some rest. We'll deal with the rest later. Mashiro, stay here. Come straight to me if anything comes up. Fushiguro, you go get some rest too."

Ijichi nodded, turned, and hurried out of the treatment room.

Fushiguro glanced at Mashiro, then followed Ijichi out.

After the door closed, Satoru Gojo walked over to Mashiro. "Shall we step outside?"

Another 4,000 words later.