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Interlude (Before My Very Eyes Chapter 7)
🕑 Added 2024-10-25 20:53:55 +0000 UTC"You were given your time with him, just as you requested," the first elder intoned, their voice carving through the shadowed room. It echoed like a dull bell, absorbed into the wooden talismans draped around numerous paper Shojis, obscuring their presence behind tradition.
The incense spiraled upwards, slow and deliberate, as if time had grown languid in their midst. "That request was granted with the understanding that nothing could be hidden from your eyes—nothing about the boy."
A second voice, softer, cut through the lingering haze, like a ripple on still water. "He possesses cursed eyes, yes. But they are not the Six Eyes."
In the periphery, another elder stirred, the rustling of their robes announcing their intent to speak. Their tone lacked accusation or surprise, settling instead on a scholar’s curiosity. "He summons shikigami—one with no precedence in the records. Powerful. Untamed."
"If not for your presence as the bearer of this generation’s Six Eyes," a sharper voice interrupted, cold as steel, "we might have mistaken his abilities for a mutation, some aberration of the Six Eyes."
The room vibrated with the weight of their murmurs, a low undercurrent of fear cloaked beneath their words.
From the deepest corner of the chamber, a figure hidden within the folds of shadow spoke in a near whisper, barely a breath. "This new form of eyes..."
"And your limitless," another added, their talismans rattling softly. "He wields it."
Gojo Satoru lounged in the high-backed chair they had given him, his posture at ease but his presence anything but. His lips curved into a languid smile, though the faint flicker of lantern light barely grazed his face. His dark shades, as always, veiled his gaze, but behind them, his mind spun faster than any of the elders could fathom. He drummed his fingers lazily on the armrest, as though toying with the questions left unsaid.
The elders’ scrutiny pressed down on him like needles, waiting for his usual flippant remarks—perhaps a joke, a sly insult to deflect their unease. But this time, Gojo did not speak because, for once, he didn’t have an answer.
Nagato Uzumaki was strong.
Different in a way that went beyond Jujutsu sorcerery. The depth of abilities he had shown, strained what Gojo knew about Sorcery and that grated him more than he would admit.
The silence deepened, stretching to the brink of discomfort. Gojo finally broke it with a low chuckle, the sound grating against the room’s severity, like nails dragged over glass. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "You’re all so serious." His smile widened, sharp and mocking. "Fine."
"Rinnegan," he said, the word falling heavily between them, weighted with something none of them yet grasped.
"Eyes of Rebirth?" The second elder muttered, shadow twisting forward like a serpent. "How…arrogant."
Gojo's smirk deepened. "Perhaps. But those eyes… they're unlike anything I've encountered. Not in the archives. Nor among cursed eyes I've crossed paths with."
The incense seemed to freeze mid-coil as his words sank in. The weight of what he was slowing revealing sinking in
"I do not believe his eyes are just cursed eyes," Gojo continued, his tone thoughtful, edging towards revelation. "The Six Eyes enhances my perception to what you would call an ultra-fine level. This enhanced perception allows me to perceive and in turn manipulate cursed energy to an absurd degree. And that’s not even mentioning what it does for my cursed technique, the limitless.”
At least, that was what they knew.
The truth was what when he said ultra-fine perception. It went beyond that.
Gojo Satoru did not simply see the world—he deciphered it, stripped it bare of every pretense and shadow, reduced it to its simplest, rawest forms of cursed energy.
Each living thing, every curse, flickered with a distinct rhythm, a signature pulse of life or malice. The entire spectrum of cursed energy played out like a constant whisper in his mind, and Gojo listened, hearing every echo, every faint heartbeat, every concealed tremor of intent that threaded through his surroundings.
You could say that where others might feel cursed energy as a brimming ball of negativity, the six eyes cut through that assumption with the precision of a blade, cutting right down to the heart of it, to what it was. A form of energy. Spiritual perhaps. But energy nonetheless.
With that awareness came a profound sense of control, granting him mastery over his own cursed energy reserves to such a degree that the question of exhaustion was irrelevant. His cursed energy was an endless river, a current that flowed with inexhaustible force and refinement. No wasted drop, no energy lost in the air around him. It no longer became a matter of large his reserves were when he just didn’t seem to run out of cursed energy, deploying vast amounts of power with the same ease others would breathe.
It painted the illusion of invincibility he had going for him.
“But the Rinnegan..." Gojo continued, measuring his words before speaking. "They’re more than just cursed eyes. I believe those eyes are his cursed technique."
A shudder rippled through the chamber. Even the elders, veiled by centuries of tradition, could not fully conceal their surprise.
One of them broke the silence, their voice tight. "You mean to say—"
"Yes," Gojo cut them off, his voice sharp as a blade. "Everything he does—every ability he had shown—comes from those eyes."
A murmur swept through the room, the elders struggling to contain their shock.
Gojo understood their surprise. Cursed techniques were innate, woven into the very essence of a sorcerer. To suggest that such power could be concentrated in a single pair of eyes... it broke the rules of everything they knew.
There was the unspoken fact that it meant that who wielded the eyes would in fact gain these abilities and Gojo more than anything else found that hilarious.
He leaned back into his chair, posture reflecting his casual amusement. "He can manipulate cursed energy with an efficiency that rivals mine. Absorb it without an external medium. His control... it’s like touching Infinity itself. Spatial manipulation that feels unnervingly close to my own Limitless."
The elders shifted, unease rippling through their ranks like a cold wind. Gojo could almost taste their discomfort.
"And then there are his summons," he mused aloud. "They remind me of the Zenin Clan’s Ten Shadows technique, except... we all felt what he summoned that day. Its effects till this day.”
The room tightened around his words. They had all felt it—the raw, untamed power that had twisted the air when Nagato had called forth his beast. It had been something vile, reeking of decay and death.
"At first, I thought he might be like Yuta," Gojo continued, "someone who could mimic techniques. Picking up cursed technique on reflex. So I put him to the test. Throwing him against different cursed techniques. But nothing.”
“Every ability he shows is contained purely in his eyes.”
He let his words settle, watching as the elders murmured amongst themselves in these fleeting moments of silence.
Before he continued. “Nanami has been training him in hand-to-hand combat."
A dry scoff echoed through the chamber, curt and dismissive. “The clanless one,” one elder muttered, the disdain in their voice brittle.
Gojo’s smile grew sharp, almost dangerous, as he emphasized. "Yes. The clanless grade one sorcerer, Nanami Kento."
Another wave of muttered discontent rippled a few of the elders. And Gojo felt a muted sense of satisfaction and pride at the man Nanami Kento was.
"His assessment is that, with time, the boy’s skill in cursed energy reinforcement could rival even his own."
And Gojo had seen it too.
The boy fought in a way that went beyond instinct— like memory. Like half-recalled moves being pieced together. Pulling off combos and using his abilities in ways that spoke of experience.
A curious contradiction that had initially left Gojo silent more than once, watching the boy as if he’d missed something critical.
Till he peered deeper into the boy, till something looked back. Something other.
Gojo’s fingers tightened around his chair, his easygoing facade flickering ever so slightly. Whatever he saw was vile and dangerous.
“Is that all Gojo or perhaps there’s more to this boy than you’re saying?
Gojo chuckled, low and soft, his amusement nearly lost in the incense-laden air. “There’s always more, isn’t there?”
"You’ve always been reckless, Gojo," another elder snapped, frustration biting through their tone. "But this boy... he’s a gamble none of us can afford to lose."
“Calm your pants down” Gojo bit back. “I’ve told you everything. If there’s any new development, then yes I will report back to HQ, till then…I’ve given you everything you need to update your little file.
The elder he address bristled, behind his shoji and the other elders began as usual cautioning Gojo on his lack of respect.
The boy might be different but Gojo satoru really wasn’t bothered because he was sure that whenever what was in him came out to play.
He, Gojo Satoru would win.
