Cursed Eyes (Itachi in JJk)

4800 Words. Idk how I did this, but somehow, I did. Enjoy.

This was the first time that Satoru stood in front of these gates. His blue eyes peered past the glasses and at the traditional wooden gate before trailing off to take in the medium-high, white, aged fence that stretched far into the distance, surrounding the entirety of the Inumaki clan.

He stood in front of the door, hand in his pocket and a hum on his lips. He had not even bothered to knock. But when Gojo Satoru was at your doorstep, you opened the door. So it was no surprise that, barely ten seconds after his arrival, the doors were slowly forced open to reveal a kimono-clad man.

His platinum hair was cut low, and his lilac eyes stared back at Satoru cautiously. With the man's very Inumaki-centric features, it was no surprise that the snake-and-fang marking of the clan's technique was present on his cheeks. 

"Gojo-san. The clan leader invites you into the clan." The man signed out with his fingers rapidly.

The Inumaki seemed to have fully embraced the well-thought-out and arguably more practical hand signs for communication that Jiki had taught Toge.

Satoru nodded and gave a grin at the man before walking past him with the confidence of a man used to getting his way. The man rushed to close the gate behind him while Satoru continued to strut forward, forcing the other man to double his pace to catch up. Considering the height difference he had over most Japanese men, the man was forced to triple his pace to catch up since Satoru refused to slow down. 

Satoru was forced to pray for Jiki's height spontaneously. He would be damned if his little cousin was forced to scramble after everyone. But if, for some reason, Jiki never grew to be as tall as him, well, as the saying goes: When a bear chases you, you don't have to be faster than the bear, just faster than the person next to you. Satoru pitied anyone with the effrontery to be taller because he was going to start breaking kneecaps. 

The thought brought a chuckle to his lips, and the Inumaki shot him a questioning look, but Satoru waved him off. Already, Jiki was taller than the man, so his kneecaps were quite safe. 

Satoru was forced to stop as they exited the courtyard and reached a crossroad because he was struck by the realization that he didn't know where he was going. The Inumaki clan was a fairly isolated one. Their clan was smack dab in the middle of the countryside. Unlike the Gojos and the Zenins, the Inumaki had never been a powerhouse. 

The potential of their technique made them a target. But the truth was that their strength didn't match the potential of what Cursed Speech could do, as they were weighed down by the repercussions of the technique on their bodies. Yet even that could be circumvented. 

The greatest weakness of the Inumaki was their mindset. Satoru had never seen an Inumaki who was truly phenomenal or motivated enough to succeed. That meant that, in the long and storied history of the clan, they had never had any true genius or sufficiently powerful sorcerer from their ranks other than the first Inumaki. 

His guide finally caught up to him and gave him what should've been a scathing glance for leaving him behind, but the man seemed to remember who he was looking at at the last second because he turned his gaze away sharply. 

"This way, Gojo-san." The man turned to the right, which was weird because Satoru still couldn't sense or see his student's cursed energy. Instead, he seemed to be led toward another. The clan head most likely. He would've loved to see Toge first, but he turned on his heels and followed the man. 

He was already dropping in uninvited, and the Inumaki were decidedly neutral. He had no reason to spurn the hand they were reaching out to him while in a hurry. 

They came to a stop in front of the main building. A traditional one in the style the clans loved so much, built of brick and wood. Without glancing at the guide, Satoru pushed the door open and stepped into the room. 

Unlike the traditional look of the building's exterior, the interior was radically different, with a more modern look. 

A long table surrounded by chairs in which only two were occupied. A man and a woman. The man had the platinum blonde hair and purple eyes of the Inumaki, while the woman was less striking and more average. 

The clan head and his wife. Toge's parents. The older man gestured at a nearby chair laden with food in front of him. Satoru wasn't expecting a parent-teacher association meeting, but considering they were starting with a bribe, who was he to say no? 

The meal was had in silence, and Satoru used that time to observe and analyze Toge's parents with the certainty they did the same to him. Unfortunately for them, he was simply better. 

Toge's father was an older man. Not as old as Tatsumi had been when he stepped down, but definitely older than him. His cursed energy reserve and output were notable but nothing special or unique. If Satoru were to estimate his grade, he would say a weak grade one or a strong semi-grade one. Which made it all the stranger that somehow, Toge had managed to catch up to the man at sixteen and after just a year in Jujutsu High. 

Toge's mother, on the other hand, was entirely mundane, which made the glances she sent his way all the more pronounced. Satoru had just taken his last bite of the meal when a voice spoke. 

"My honored husband assumes that you are here for our son." 

Satoru looked up as the statement finished. Somehow, hearing words for the first time since he had stepped foot into the clan surprised him. 

"Yes," he acknowledged with ease. "Toge remains one of my students, and I would see to his well-being." 

There was silence as the older man stared at him, unable to meet his gaze because of the glasses Satoru wore. But somehow, the man's violet stare was unnerving. 

If his hair was any lighter, or even his eyes, the man could have been a picture-perfect Gojo. 

There were no signs or gestures to prove the duo had communicated, but when the woman spoke again, he knew her words were from the clan leader's lips. 

"I would not begrudge you your right to see him, as his teacher, but you should know that Toge did not take the loss of his… friend well." 

Satoru nodded along with the woman's words. He personally suspected there was something more to it, but he would not know that until he met the boy. "Understandably. They were quite close." 

Without a word, the woman stood up, smoothing her kimono in one move as she walked to him. "Then if you're done with your meal, I'll take you to him." 

Satoru gave one last look at the clan head, who had closed his eyes, before standing up to follow the woman. 

Unlike when she had been in the presence of her husband, the clan head, Toge's mother was more expressive when they were alone. 

"What is the syllabus like?" 

"I heard Toge is very smart, but he doesn't talk much about school." 

"Do you just teach them how to fight? Surely they must learn more than that. The sciences at least." 

The PTA meeting he thought he had avoided hit him like a brick, as he was forced to answer all the woman's questions with a smile. 

"Varied." 

"Toge is one of our most talented students, although he doesn't apply himself as much as he could." 

"A background in the sciences is required to know how to effectively apply a technique, so yes, it is taught just as much as combat." 

The interrogation ended the moment they reached a door just to the side of the main house. Toge's mother was silent for the first time since they stepped out, and she faced the door. 

"My husband was downplaying it, you know," she started, her voice low and somber. "Panda was his first-ever friend. Just like my husband and I, I believe Panda was the one person that could understand him completely even without a sign of communication. For an Inumaki, to lose someone like that would hurt even worse than death." 

The woman turned to face him, tears rolling down her cheeks. She bowed and finished, "So please, help my son, Gojo Satoru." 

He peered down at her, his features impassive. Toge's descent into despair was as much his fault as Panda's death. He had been the one to send them there, to distract Geto and motivate Yuta.

A plan that had worked perfectly, because he knew Geto would never go through with killing young promising sorcerers. Satoru had simply never expected another player to disrupt things. Unfortunately, for all his strength, he could not bring back the dead. But talking to a distressed boy… the last time he did that, it had been a useless waste of effort, and he had been forced to watch his best friend turn his back on him and walk away. 

Satoru was many things, and while he had flaws, he had never made the same mistake twice. 

So when the woman looked up at him to hear his reply, he had a confident smile on his lips, with his glasses pushed up. "It'll be fine, I'm Gojo Satoru after all." 

He got a small smile in response as the woman turned away and walked off, but not before giving one last glance at the door. 

Satoru waited for her to get out of earshot before he tapped gently on the door and stepped inside, not bothering with formalities. He knew better than to wait for an invitation. The air inside was stale, the room dimly lit by the faint glow of a half-drawn curtain. Plates sat untouched on the table, laundry lay abandoned on the floor. Toge sat on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing, as if the world outside had ceased to exist. 

The silence was suffocating, but Satoru wasn't the type to let that last long. "So, this is where you've been hiding," he said, leaning against the doorframe, his tone deceptively light. "Gotta say, I expected something a little less… grim." 

Toge didn't even flinch. His eyes were hollow, his cursed speech locked away behind clenched teeth. Satoru was not sure he had said a word since it happened not that he needed to. The weight of Panda's loss hung between them.

Satoru stepped further into the room, his usual easygoing swagger dialed back, though not entirely absent. "You're blaming yourself," he stated, his voice low but hard. "Thinking maybe if you were stronger, faster, smarter… Panda wouldn't be dead." 

He watched Toge's fingers curl into fists, his knuckles turning white. His head remained bowed, eyes fixed on the floor, but Satoru could feel the emotions swirling inside him rage, guilt, sorrow all fighting for control, all locked behind that apathetic facade Toge always kept. 

Satoru crouched down in front of him, close enough that Toge couldn't avoid his presence any longer. Slowly, deliberately, Satoru took off his glasses completely, meeting Toge's eyes directly. His gaze wasn't the usual playful one he wore; it was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Look at me, Toge." 

Toge's breath hitched, but he didn't move. Satoru didn't back down, didn't soften. "I've lost people too. People I cared about. People I swore I'd protect." The memory came to him, as raw as always—before he lost Geto, he lost someone else, someone he should've protected. Riko Amanai. "You think you're the only one who feels like you weren't enough?" 

Toge's eyes finally shifted, a spark of defiance igniting in their depths. But there was no escaping this. Not now. 

Satoru's voice dropped lower, each word laced with an intensity that left no room for argument. "Panda died fighting as a Sorcerer, Toge. He made his choice, just like we all do. He knew the risks, and he went out protecting the people he loved. He would not want to see you rotting away in here, drowning in your own guilt, " 

The room fell into silence again, thick and oppressive. But this time, Toge's hands shook. Satoru could feel the frustration and anger bubbling beneath the surface. Toge's jaw clenched tight, words fighting to escape, but he refused to say anything. Instead, he raised a hand and went through a rapid set of hand signs. The movements were sharp and jerky, done violently to impress the unspoken words on Satoru like a scream. 

"Panda didn't die fighting like a sorcerer! He was ambushed and killed and not by the curse or curse user! THEY killed him." 

Satoru rocked back the moment he interpreted the signs to words. His eyes widened as everything began to fall into place. There had been suspicions, but in between hunting Geto's killer, cleaning up the mess that was the parade, and reorganizing the clan after the attack, he had gotten overwhelmed. 

There was only one other group that would have wanted Panda dead and Yaga taking down a peg. He remembered the mourning man's speech clearly. The venom in Yaga's voice, coupled with the way the higher-ups felt about the man's technique... They must've thought everything was spiraling out of control. With him and Jiki being untouchable thorns in their side, they had gone for a weaker target. And for a second, Satoru had one thought and one thought alone in his mind. 

MURDER.

This was why Yaga refused to tell him. 

They had dared to touch one of his precious students. He did not care about another group of corrupt bastards taking their place. This once, he was going to do what he should have done years ago. He made to stand up, but Toge's hand snapped out and grabbed his. 

"No." Toge barked out.

Satoru froze for a heartbeat. The curse technique restricted him for all of a second before he broke out of it.

He looked into Toge's purple eyes and somehow he understood. Beneath the pain and anguish was something unfamiliar. Pure and unfiltered hate. 

At that moment, Gojo Satoru was hit with a sudden realization. The Higher-ups and elders were no longer his to Slaughter.

Satoru shrugged off Toge's grip and stood up, towering over his student, though his presence wasn't imposing, it was grounding. "Panda would not want this for you." His voice was bland, not judging. 

Toge's breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with the weight of unsaid emotions. His eyes, still locked on Satoru's, held a mix of pain and fury. 

So Satoru continued, "We fight as Sorcerers because we know the cost. Panda knew it. We all do. This world chews people up and spits them out. The path you want to take... It means you'd try your best at taking a bite back at the world. It would make you something else. Do you understand?" 

Satoru stood there and some part of him wished the boy understood and would step back.

Toge stood up, his shoulders trembling with the effort it took to hold himself together. But he nodded harshly, and that spark had not left his eyes. The previously dispassionate Inumaki had found a reason to truly try for the first time. For a second, Satoru almost pushed him aside to go do the deed himself, but the sight of those bloodshot wide purple eye staring deep into his blue taunted him. 

Who was he to smolder that? To rob the boy of his wish, to steal from the Inumaki, a chance to be more.

He should not support this, yet it was his student who had chosen this path and Satoru found it impossible to turn the boy down. Instead, he would have to extend his wings even wider in case the boy failed. He would be there to catch him. That was his duty as a teacher. 

Satoru turned toward the door and began to walk away. But before he left, he threw one final glance over his shoulder. "Clean yourself up, Toge. We've got work to do, a wrong to be put right, and I have someone I want to introduce you to." 

It was about time for that lazy bastard to pull his own weight, and who better to teach Toge than him? 

Toge didn't respond, but the tension in his frame eased if only a little. As Satoru stepped out, closing the door behind him, a faint whisper carried through the room, just enough for someone like him to hear. 

"…Thank you." 

...

Jiki knew someone was coming before he heard the steps. It was still an amusing thought, how unrefined the act of sensing cursed energy was for sorcerers. It was something they didn't even teach not really at least. Perhaps it was because they lacked true sensors that were enough to make it a known art. 

Cursed energy usage was paradoxical. Sometimes fluid, and other times it was a rigid structure controlled by the old. Another thing that must have factored into the non-exposure of things like refined sensing was probably the scale and rarity of sorcerers compared to shinobi. 

Curse users seemed to have existed for over a millennia in comparison to shinobi with a smaller time frame of two centuries, give or take. Yet where shinobi shined was not just in quality but quantity. 

A dozen hidden villages. Hundreds of Clans. Thousands of Shinobi.

A bigger focus group gave the chance and opportunity for a wider range of abilities that could be manifested from a variety of people, compared to the much smaller focus group that curse technique users were cursed with, forcing them to have a smaller repertoire of techniques that were not strictly inherited. 

Perhaps when he was done with all this-school, the clan, he could do act like Satoru did, although he was certain he would be a more effective teacher than his elder cousin. Unlike Satoru, he wouldn't be doing it to necessarily create a stronger generation, but to simply spread knowledge of the unique ways cursed energy could be manipulated. 

Just like Rikudo Senin did. Still, it was a novel thought. One that he had not truly considered today or even in his past life. Settling down to teach. An opportunity he had been deprived of by going rogue. 

He smoothly rose to his feet, discarding his musings as his guest finally reached the door. Before the person could knock, he called out. "Come in." 

He had calmed down considerably from how he felt the day before, but his voice still held a bite.

He could feel the person freeze, a folded fist in front of the door poised to knock. But the person recovered admirably and pushed the door open before sitting down in seiza before him, head faced to the ground deferential. 

He recognized her, even if he did not see her face. The girl who had led him into the shrine enthusiastically. 

Even with no solid proof yet, she seemed to be his greatest believer. He wondered what he had done that fostered such faith. 

"The preparations are set and ready. You've been invited to the Reiji Rites." 

Finally. He didn't bother with a response, as with her head bowed, she would be blind to his nod, but she got the message anyway. Finding her way back to her feet, she smoothed out her kimono once more before her gaze drifted up to find his. 

Black stared into red, and the black looked away immediately. She backtracked and closed his door before scurrying away. 

He dismissed thoughts of the girl as he moved to undress and freshen up. 

When Jiki came out of the room, he stilled and stared down the hallway. On both sides of the hallway were women, all clad in the white and red of the shrine maidens, and all of them looked at him, some in amusement, some in judgment, and some with reverence. 

His pause was only for a split second, and it was certain they had not noticed it, even more so since he smoothly recovered and began to walk past them. At the end of the hallway was Utahime. The senior-ranked shrine maiden was dressed in even more elaborate wear compared to her usual. 

She nodded at Jiki and began to lead the way. He followed behind her, and behind him were the shrine maidens, still separated on both sides like pseudo honor guards. 

It was a straight path to the peak of the mountain, and Jiki followed until they got to the top, on which rested the sacred grounds of Ise Shrine. On one side was a pavilion; underneath it was the stooped-over figure of the head shrine maiden. She waved at him the moment he stepped foot onto the peak like a caring grandmother, while beside her were the rest of the more senior shrine maidens. 

The procession ended the moment he got to the peak, and as he took a slow walk to the middle, his entourage spread out to surround the peak and trap him in a circle. Jiki stared up at the still-dark sky. They were what he estimated to be minutes away from dawn. Once again, they sought to use symbolism, for Amaterasu was the sun goddess, and what better way to prove his supposed lineage than with her rise? 

There were no words today, for everything that needed to be said had been said. All that remained was to act. 

He eased himself into a meditative seat by crossing his legs and closing his eyes. The moment his eyes shut, the chanting started. Rhythmic chanting from what felt like hundreds of voices rang out until something joined. The sound of feet slapping against the ground. Shortly after, the beat of drums could be heard.

The shrine maidens danced, sang, and drummed, their movements and voices weaving an intricate tapestry of sound and motion that seemed to pulse with the very fabric of existence. Jiki sat in the center of it all, calm amidst the storm, and felt it: cursed energy accumulating in waves, thick and suffocating. If cursed energy were electricity, then Jiki was the conductor of an impending blowout.

The rising heat bathed his back signifying only one thing. Dawn had begun. The sun crept upward, casting its first golden rays across the peak of the mountain. 

Jiki opened his eyes, and the Sharingan twisted, shifting as its three tomoe spun into the intricate fūma shuriken pattern of his Mangekyō. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his hands together in a prayerful gesture. The air quivered, not merely from the charged energy but as if the universe itself held its breath. And an old presence stirred while Jiki's voice cut rang out, quivering with something he did not understand.

"Susanoo." 

The ritual halted. Chanting faltered, drums silenced mid-beat, and dancing figures froze, their movements arrested by the sheer weight of his words. 

Cursed energy poured out of Jiki like a flood and before their wide eyes, the towering form of Susanoo began to take shape. The sound of bones snapping into existence reverberated like the cracking of mountain. Four massive skeletal arms stretched skyward, ribs materialized to shield its core, and a spine coiled upward, erect and unyielding as it bore the weight of its divine presence. 

But Jiki was not content with an incomplete Susanoo, and even though he had never pushed farther, he knew he could. They sought proof of divinity, and he would give them no less.

His eyes glowed.

The Susanoo swelled, continuing to grow. A pelvic girdle formed, supported, and carried upward by supermassive femurs, tibiae, and fibulae. Jiki rose, weightless, his form suspended at the heart of the colossal figure. Its presence continued to expand as ephemeral muscles of glowing red wrapped around the skeletal frame, each strand surging with raw power as they overlaid the exposed bones. 

The air grew dense, and heavy, under the weight of Susanoo's manifestation. A thunderous crack rang out as ethereal armor locked into place with finality. Crimson plates superimposed over each other, their weight palpable. Finally, the tengu-faced mask snapped into position, its cold and imperious gaze completing the divine visage. 

His eyes burned.

Then, the Susanoo moved with him as though they were one, and its towering frame shimmered under the light of the rising sun. Its head tilted back slightly, catching the first full rays of dawn and it seemed like even Amaterasu approved of Its presence. Even Jiki could not suppress the thrill that shot through him.

The new weight of multiple presences. The attention of others, yet above that It was his complete Susanoo that mesmerized him. An act that he had been deprived of in his past life and he muttered to himself in the safety of the ultimate protection. "Was this how you felt, Sasuke? Was this the power that made you think it possible to overturn the world as you wished?"

Gasps filled the courtyard, drawing his attention as reverence and terror bubbled in the air as shrine maidens fell to their knees, unable to bear the overwhelming presence. He could imagine what it seemed like to them. Divinity made flesh, and Jiki was not certain they were wrong. Not when he could feel Susanno's presence. 

But he refocused and fixed his eyes on the Head Miko. Where others were cowed, she stood, her face a mask of composure as she smiled. Yet even she could not fully disguise the tremor in her hand as it tightened on her staff. 

They wanted proof of a god, and now they trembled before one. Yet he was not done yet. It was not enough to ruffle her, he wanted to break that composure if he was not just going to get the counter ritual, but twist the Shrine Maidens into backing him in full.

His eyes bled.

Jiki willed it, and the Susanoo's hand moved, and from the left arm that cradled the sake jar, the Blade of Totsuka sprung out. The ephemeral liquid-like sword caused the first crack in the Head Miko's facade as she lost her smile, her face smoothing out as she beheld one of the Sacred treasures of Japan.

But if Utahime truly answered to the head Miko, then the old woman must have known about it, so he needed something else. Something groundbreaking to truly cement it, and he had it. One more card to play, and the one that would etch itself into their memories, and make their reverence absolute.

The Susanoo's left upper and lower arms shifted, fusing in a grotesque but seamless transformation. The air around the limb warped, curse energy spiraling outward as something began to take form. Jiki felt the cursed energy draining from him in waves, but the storm around him, summoned by the ritual, continued to feed his reserves. The flow was unending, fueling him, yet his eyes bled.

From the fusion, a shield materialized in a swirl of cursed energy. Flawless, shimmering with a power that bent the very light of the setting sun and reflected it a hundredfold toward his bewildered audience.

The Yata no Kagami had returned. The second scared treasure and Imperial Regalia. The divine mirror, the symbol of truth and reflection and the embodiment of wisdom.

The rest of the shrine maidens gasped blinded by the light and were forced to look away. But the head Miko's pale eyes widened instead, the sole person capable of witnessing what he held with her blinded milky orbs. Her lips parted in shock. Her hand trembled as she clutched her staff tighter, her voice a mere whisper, barely audible above the wind. 

"Impossible... How.. It was destroyed in that fire... centuries ago. How is It here now?!" 

Her words were stuttered, yet legible enough as they hung in the air. There was no more disbelief. Jiki looked down on the Shrine maidens with bloody tears and watched them bow and call out in a rhythmic chant.

"The scion of she that Illuminates the Heavens had returned. The second coming of Ninigi-no-Mikoto walks the earth once more."