#limitlesscursed

@limitlesscursed

A young man with medium-lenght brown hair whose bangs are hiding his eyes as he wears a purple light hapi boring a yellow quence crest and ankle brown pants as he walks the streets with geta sandals with orange socks on. He hums to himself while bobbing the beat to his headphones on his playlist as his fluffy tail keychain at his waist, swish side to side. Who knew it would be so soon that they will make contact?

After that such skirmish with sorcerers from Kyoto, they never thought that they had someone in charge of the Kyoto School in their grasp and probably...most likely...one of those in charge in Jujutsu HQ. Of course, the gang never planned to since the man did challenge them after failed warnings and such.

So the best thing thing that he can do is to advise Oda that it's good time to take advantage of this and establish boundaries once and for all. But first....the biggest challenge to make sure that the talks go smooth is to meet with the Strongest Sorcerer.

Gojo Satoru.

He heard tales of the man but he hasn't met him personally so this is going to be interesting. "Huh...I heard he is described as a tall guy with white hair and....wearing a black blindfold..." He murmurs to himself, and it's easy to track down his cursed energy since it's very papable and strong. No...strong is understatement, more like extraordinary strong. Almost like legendary.

Shukaku goes to raise his hand, trying to find him. Oh there he is! With a chuckle, he goes to blend in with the crowd, approaching. One moment he's there and with a chime, he's right in front of the man himself.

Shoko doesn't look over at him as she takes her bright blue nitrile gloves off, "What is bringing this on, are you running a fever?" she asks. She did know she was an accomplished sorcerer. She might not have any official ranking because the higher-ups didn't want her anywhere close to combat, but she knew just how accomplished she was.

She remembered the fanfare when her ability developed. Remembered the old men who came to her house and spoke of her healing like in a world of horrors she was a miracle. A savior.

It had been a lot of pressure to drop on a five year old's shoulders.

"Okay, so uh.. before you ask...I um..have nothing to do with this, sir!" He said with a nervous chuckle, with a wave of his hands. Then, on cue, the dilapidated building he was in exploded behind him during the fiery display. He didn't look back; he grins, hoping to dissuade the other from calling the proper authorities by adding this:

Hiroe never was the kind of kid to sit still. Less so when things were worrying at her. She's got her knee bouncing at mach five, pencil tapping unrhythmically along her knuckles   ( because she got told off about tapping the desk already ).   No way in Hell was she focusing. Whatever focus remained had been cut clean in two by two short buzzes from her phone, Hiroe snapping it out of her pocket and answering without caring about the lesson going on at the front.

       ❝ .   .   .   - Shit, yeah...   Yeah, I'm on my way. ❞   Quick volleyed words, like she'd been holding them in for a while. She shoves the phone back in her pocket and collects herself and her stuff before any amount of reprimand reaches her from the front.   ❝ I got'a go.   - Sister's in the hospital. ❞   and Hiroe obviously wasn't taking no for an answer about leaving.

      𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍. they were uncomfortable, and his excess appendages couldn’t express themselves while compressed under so many insufferable layers. on the battlefield, sukuna preferred to be barefoot and without upper garments. so liberating. peeling everything away to the last thread, feeling the earth beneath grounded soles and warm sunlight kissing his skin. four eyes are honing in from a short distance, blood glistening across pearly teeth when he smiled prominently. one hand 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 toward the other, fingers swiftly crooking to spur him on. they weren’t done, he enjoyed this too much. suppose the sentiment was shared, because neither were backing down.

      ❛ come on, gojo. you can do better than that. or at least, i initially assumed that was the case. ❞    he negates his own healing factor, suppresses that natural urge to mend wounds. pain induced adrenaline, triggered that fight response he so eagerly craved like an addict seeking his fix. ❛ did i overestimate you ? ❞ mirthful laughter soon followed, pupils blown for a split second as they search his 𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐘 features. numerous limbs prepared, raising into tightly spun fists. no techniques … nothing save for their pure, unadulterated strength. although satoru should be more careful, he might break a nail. @limitlesscursed

All  he  wanted  to  do  was  have  a  PEACEFUL  TIME.  Though  he  felt  his  phone  go  off,  it  was  going  off  like  crazy.  Annoyingly,  he  pulled  it  out  of  his  pocket  and  stared  at  the  number,  and  what  the  other  was  sharing  with  him.  If  he  could  block  the  other's  number,  he  would  by  this  point.  But  since  they  did  work  together,  there  was  no  way  of  doing  so.

He  hated  it.

A  sigh  left  his  lips,  and  his  eye  twitched.  He  was  getting  a  headache  already.  HOW  ANNOYING.

[  SMS:  Gojo  ]  I'm  not  answering  any  of  your  questions.

[  SMS:  Gojo  ]  and  I  CAN  ignore  you  even  longer  if  I  block  your  number.