Cursed Eyes (Itachi in JJk)

In his opinion, his dislike for sorcery and the supernatural, in general, was very valid.

Some people's first experience with curses and jujutsu originally starts in a classroom, if he had to guess. His first real experience with one started with what he learned later down the line was a grade 1 curse spirit.

"Where are youuuuuuuuu?" The oscillating childlike voice called out, even as the heavy thud of meat and bone colliding with a wall sounded out above him.

He sent searching eyes up, only to watch as the body slowly slid down from where it had impacted.

The monster had flung the body with so much force that the face was a mess of bone and flesh, with an eye that fell and rolled to where he was hiding. A familiar brown eye.

He lay crouched on the floor with his palm tight around his mouth, strangling his screams shut. Searching eyes were drawn back to the body as it continued its slow slide down before settling on the ground.

The man… at least he thought it was a man, was dressed in a three-piece black suit that had not survived its encounter with the multi-head monstrosity.

Sunlight flashed in from the window, exposing a gold and diamond ring band on the man's finger. A ring bearing the kanji for king.

So that was where Boss Eiji ended up. Fitting for a man who grew his reputation from bashing in people's heads. The irony of it all.

"I told you to leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me aloneeeeeeee. Why didn't you!!!!!!!!!!"

The monster continued to the ghastly crunching of its monstrous limb slamming into another unfortunate person's chest.

This was his fault. The thought almost made a deranged laugh squeeze past his lips.

He was the one who had suggested they sweat the man out, instead of the regular yakuza method of beating him up till he finally paid up his debt.

He was a once-in-a-lifetime genius, the intellectual brain-piece that was the brawn of their organization. He had finished high school by twelve years old and college by sixteen.

So why hadn't he listened to his instincts' warnings when he felt a dark miasma building up in the man? He had lived so long ignoring the weird quirks and little monsters he had seen hanging off people's shoulders for so long; he had almost started to believe it was a selective hallucination.

Boom boom boom.

Gunshots, he thought with hope blossoming in his chest. Considering the strict gun laws in Japan, most fights were settled using fists, baseball bats, and long knives. Big bro Shinobu was the only one who carried a gun around.

He struggled up from his position hiding behind a couch only to see the monstrosity had one arm wrapped around the Yakuza's head. The burly man was held at arm's length even as he continued to shoot at the monster at point-blank range. The bullets barely formed wounds that were quickly plugged back up.

The older man's eyes found him from where he just stood. The usually fierce and arrogant man's face was squeezed into what he never expected to see on such a man's face. His eyes had tears already forming in them. While his screams were strangled by a monstrous finger down his throat.

The moment the gun clicked empty. Whatever fear was in his eyes magnified as he finally found his voice getting past the digit.

"Hel-"

Shinichi ducked back into cover, a second before the loud squelch of the monster's hand closed with force over the enclosed head.

Half of the gang was ripped apart, and their organs and guts had been used to redecorate the simple house they found themselves in. The two toughest men he knew; Boss Eiji and Big Bro Shinobu were also dead. He knew he was dead; there was no surviving whatever this was.

The door to the house opened, and he heard a child's voice call out nonchalantly.

"Hey Dad, this is the place."

"Hmm, it's a pretty big one, isn't it?" an older voice called out.

The voice was followed by steps. Heavy steps that forced the wooden ground they stepped on to creak and groan.

"Why don't you try taking this one on by yourself? Brat."

"There are easier ways to kill me if you want me dead, you overly muscled ape." Came a younger dismissive voice.

He crawled to the side to peep behind his barricade. He wasn't certain who these crazy people were, talking and bantering like they were not stepping on the blood-soaked and gut-strewn floor created by his dead comrades.

But he'll be fucked to hell and back if he doesn't take this god-given chance for what it was.

"Huh, you're one lazy brat, aren't you?"

He finally looked around and saw the two intruders. A younger boy with black hair and dark eyes and an older man with strikingly similar features.

"When I was your age, I was already out there taking risks, what's your excuse, brat?"

Shinichi sent a calculating glance at the duo. The kid wasn't anything special, but the man was muscular and tall with a scar at the edge of his lips.

His sheer presence reeked of violence, highlighted by the tight muscle shirt he had on. Every twitch, every shuffle screamed of restrained violence. A musculature that strained against will. Yet, in the end, the man was human. He would die to the creature all the same, but Shinichi was sure he would give him the head start he needed to run.

Tossing the kid at the monster should give him an additional three seconds at least.

He shifted his glance to the multi-limbed monstrosity and realized it had frozen the instant the duo walked in. With limbs that seemed to tremble What? Was it suddenly scared?

Impossible.

The monster had ripped through seven of some of the most hardened men he had known for over five years. Men who had dipped their toes into violence for the better half of their lives. It had torn them apart with the ease of a child plucking the wings off a fly.

A twitch, and he refocused on the monster. It was at least the size of three men and was forced to hunch over in the apartment due to its sheer height.

It was a massive being with putrid yellow skin the color of infected pus and shaped like a traditional sumo wrestler. It stood upright on four massive arms the size of a fridge that held up the disgustingly obese frame with ease. Its upper half was a mess of fat with three faces seemingly screaming and stuck in a frame of pain. The wife and daughter.

It had dropped to the ground using all its six limbs to grip the ground as the duo continued to ignore it to argue among themselves.

Shinichi knew that stance. He had watched enough American football with his brothers. It was a running tackle stance, aimed solely at the still-bantering man and boy duo.

"I've really been lackadaisical with your training, back then-"

"Lackadaisical?" The kid interrupted the man with a raised eyebrow. "You abandoned me at the top of Mount Kumotori a week ago and expected me to make it back in two days. I was back home in twenty-six hours."

"I would've made it back in twelve hours," the man replied with a smirk.

"We're not all muscle-bound freaks of—"

The monster moved. It had finally had enough of the utter disregard the duo had treated it with for the past few seconds. Its sheer movement splintered the ground it was on as it channeled its strength into its huge limbs, propelling it forward. And Shinichi was in the perfect position to take advantage of it.

A split second later, the monster was missing, and the duo were still standing there relaxed.

"—Nature like you."

Shinichi wiped his eyes and looked at the scene again. What had happened? He had not even blinked, so what the heck did he just miss?

They stood as they had always been, with the older man looking down at the boy as the kid argued his point. He realized a heartbeat later, there was a change. The man's hand was outstretched behind him. But how? He had not even seen the man move.

"By the way, I'm not going to have a running battle in the town with you. You could've just killed it here."

The sound of debris falling from the opposite wall drew his attention, and he looked and saw a hole in the wall.

A hole the size of a car that was fresh enough that he could still see the wiring in the walls sparking at their sudden disconnection and exposure.

He knew what had occurred. He was smart enough to place the dots. A missing monster. An outstretched arm and a hole in the wall. It was not hard to solve that particular mystery. What turned everything on its head was the how. It was impossible. Then again, who was he to say what was actually impossible and not?

He had just seen a monster be born of a depressed madman who smashed in the head of his wife and daughter before hanging himself after they had pressured him until he broke.

"If I had done that, the useless sap of a man might have gotten hit by something, and we wouldn't be any richer for the effort. What did I tell you about making money, brat?"

A monster that had killed almost everything and everyone he knew. Who was he to say anything about the impossible? He thought with a hysterical giggle. He blinked and realized he was lying down in a fetal position with his arms circled around his knees. When had he fallen?

"Minimum effort, at maximum profit and never doing something until you're certain you'll be paid for it," came the voice of the kid, bearing a tone that had a hint of recital to it.

"That's my brat."

The sound of foot on fleshy entrails drew him out of his funk. The disappearance of his shield and barricade (couch) forced him to his knees. He raised his eyes at the duo. Uncomprehending eyes stared at the man and boy, just as they stared back at him with an apathetic look mirrored on their faces.

The man said something, but he was too far gone. The sheer madness and insanity he had witnessed over the past few minutes and had been forced to endure had bent him. The impossibility of what the man had done finally broke him.

The kid shifted back a smidge to brace himself before launching his left leg forward in a kick that connected with the side of his head.

The force of the blow sent him skidding back over blood and entrails before he was finally stopped by something soft. He moved to rise back up with trembling hands, his thoughts clearing up from the fog of despair that had clouded it.

He turned his head to see what arrested his momentum and looked down at the beaten and battered body of another old friend; Maeno.

His original brown hair and mixed handsome features squeezed together and crumpled into a disgusting mess of meat, bone, hair, and flesh. "Ahhhh" he stumbled back with hysterical movements, forcing himself back to his feet.

"He's finally with us," a voice out called from behind him.

He spun around with adrenaline-fueled force and stepped on an intestine that slipped him up and forced him back to the ground. At least, that is what should've happened if a hand hadn't blurred out and snapped his head up by his hair. Arresting his momentum and leaving him in an awkward position.

"W- Who are y-ou?" He asked with a stutter.

The man's seemingly apathetic visage twisted into something he must've thought was a smile. His scarred lips rose and highlighted his shark-like teeth.

"You're asking the wrong questions to the right people," the voice came out, rough and dry. "The question is how much is your life worth?"

"Wha- what?" came his response.

"He's trying to rip you off all you have, and you've no choice but to allow it. Unless you'd rather be back with the curse spirit. I'm sure we can find a way dump you back wherever he sent it to," the kid spoke up with an uncaring shrug.

With the words came more clarity. With clarity came righteous anger. Enough anger that fueled him. He was not sure about what they were saying, but the monster wasn't here again. He was dealing with humans once more.

It was just him, a trained yakuza against a man and boy. A boy who kicked him in the face and a man who was still holding him up by his hair in a position unfitting for a man of his stature.

"You kicked me, you bastard, I will—"

Everything went black.

What had happened again? He couldn't remember. He felt pressure on his head, and he blinked blood out of his eyes before realizing more got back in as he tried to blink them out. He was facing the floor?

He had been saying something just a few seconds ago. His head was dragged up, and his blurry eyes picked up the indentation that had formed on the wooden floor after his head was lifted up. He was slammed into the floor. Was that what happened?

The shock held back the pain, yet he could feel it coiling. Testing the edges of his awareness, looking for the best time to hit.

The scarred man moved to a crouch and brought Shinichi's blood-soaked face up to look him in the eye. Face to face with the man, he felt chills go down his spine. The man's black eyes were blank. Completely devoid of feelings and emotions. His features were set into a stone mask as those cold fish eyes stared deep into Shinichi's soul.

"I'm the only one allowed to speak to him like that." Somehow the voice had gotten low with an even tougher tone. Yet Shinichi heard the words with all the clarity of a gunshot in his ear. His heart beat in his chest like a chained beast straining against chains that held it down.

This close, he saw death, and it had empty shark eyes and scarred lips. He let out forceful and quick head nods, stuttering out apologies as the man kept staring at him.

"Another hit like that, and I'm not sure he would even remember his account number," the kid noted from behind the man.

"Oh shit, he hasn't paid us, has he?" The man said, his previous tone and expression fading into what Shinichi was starting to realize was a signature smirk. "So answer the question, you yakuza bastard, how much is your life worth?"

With trembling lips and a glance at the ripped-apart remains of his former partners, he stuttered out a reply. A reply that made the man's smirk transform into a full tooth grin.

"Everything."

"You're so fucked." The kid replied with a chuckle.

x

He hated hospitals.

Yet here he was, walking through another for the second time today, with a formal button-up white shirt and tie, because that was how she always wanted to see him, wasn't it.

He tugged at the collar with one hand while his second held Japanese iris flowers; her favorites. Good thing they signified good news because that was what he honestly hoped for.

Hospital attendants and nurses saw him and gave him distance, struggling and tumbling over themselves to get out of his way. He would've assumed they were scared of his no doubt impressive scowl, but he knew their fear had more to do with the over six-foot man behind him with a scar and a matching scowl.

They got to the room, and he hesitated to open the door for a moment, for once Toji didn't slap him over the head for hesitating, so he marinated in mixed emotions of hope, fear, and anxiety.

He gripped the door and forced it open to see the sprayed-out form of Tsumiki. Her beautiful brown hair laid out around her face had dulled in shine the longer she stayed here.

He walked up to her bedside, sitting on the chair placed there he took a hold of her hands - her too-cold hands. She could've been mistaken for dead. Yet keen ears noted the slow beating of her heart.

"How is she?"

The rough voice of his father calls out, and he sends a glance at him. The renowned sorcerer killer also had on a white button-up shirt, tucked into black pants. Although his black tie had found its way into his pocket. Yet not even Toji was immune to Tsumiki's scolding.

"Still comatose," he replies, his tone tired. Despite their hope. Despite all the money they've been funneling into the hospital and the increased amount of jobs they've been taking. At this point, he knew the bills they pay alone contributed a solid percent to the hospital's earnings.

"So we've exhausted all the mundane means to revive her then," Toji admits easily as he keeps his eyes on the unconscious form of his step-daughter.

"I know that!" Megumi lets out. Sadness turns to anger and anger clouds his reasoning, yet Toji's only reply is a frown and a glare.

Heh, she would've been rolling on the floor right now if she witnessed Toji being the responsible one while he was left lashing out like a child.

"I spoke to Shiu Kong." Those words brought to mind the cigarette-smoking suit-wearing mediator who worked part-time as a handler for them. "We figure we have a better chance of waking her up with the reverse curse technique, and luckily for us, I know where the best user in Japan is. I also have my way of getting in."

He looks up and watches the way a confident smirk spreads out on Toji's scared lips, and for the first time in months, he feels hope.

He lets his eyes wander back to Tsumiki's and whispers to her still form, "Wait for me, big sis."