April fool, The Diddy special

Kenjaku the 69 God.

"He's young, black and famous, with power hanging out the anus..." Kenny drooled as he rubbed his hands malevolently. That foreign sorcerer used a system called 'Mana' and in regards to how it functioned...

 It could have more versatility and a higher power ceiling than regular Cursed Energy ever could. He just needed a sample... and the only good way to get a sample from was that boy and... his teacher....

'Nah... I don't want that smoke for real... That woman in our last encounter, made this body... feel fear.' Kenny mulled. 

'That boy though... He seems innocent enough... But.. He is a growing man, with... Urges. Urges I can exploit..."

Uraume narrowed their eyes as they looked at their benefactor's focused visage "Kenjaku.... 've been intending to tell you this: You're weird. I actually deadass want no part in this."

"Uraume... You know I'm a savage, no matter what I want, I have to get...!" Kenjaku stood up and shouted, his hands balled into fists. "And I'm bouta get that Mandingo's big, fat, juicy, MANA!"

Uraume steepled their fingers and exhaled, heavily.

"Good for you, I still don't wanna be involved."

"I'll make it worth your while."

"Nothing you could say will-"

"I'll give you my credit card and you can get all the ice cream you want."

"...Alright, shipdit, what do you want?"

Kenjaku walked up to a dead body, one of the few not beyond recognition from the events of October 31st and smirked as Uraume followed him.

"This is it."

"Uh.... huh. You know that you're going for an objective downgrade right. The only way you'd get far is if there was another one of you."

"Another one of me... I have an idea... And possibly several binding vows to make."

As Kenjaku surfaced in his/her/it's/IDFK new body, a massive grin overcame his face as they belted out: "I'M A SAVAGE! WHOOOOO! I'M A SAVAGE! WHATEVER I WANT, I HAVE TO GET! WHATEVER I WANT, I'M GOING TO GET!" a dark grin covered the woman's face as the realization crossed her mind, 'And I'm gonna get what I want... after a little.... Meet cute.'

The Shibuya Incident had left behind a staggering amount of casualties and catastrophic damage, even with the intervention of the forces of Jujutsu High and their allies.

What was only a few scant hours ago a bustling prefecture full of cosplayers celebrating Halloween, reveling anywhere there could be reveling, salarymen and women trying to get home after a grueling day at work... now was a ghost town. 

Emptied buildings, with shattered and even no glass in the windows, a dearth of people even in said buildings, rubble and craters that used to be other buildings of decent relevance and stature to the people present, even if were just everyday life, and if the buildings weren't completely wreckage, the missing parts had become the dust that was inhaled by those present there; the rising sun, once the sign of a new dawn was now a spotlight of the apocalyptic scene.

Few survivors made themselves known.

 Even fewer had the temerity to go out in the heart of the disaster to go and see what had overtaken them, and left behind an apocalyptic hellscape.

Many people were declared dead or missing, with multiple bereaved families searching for friends, relatives, even acquaintances.

 Some however, were looking for anyone to be saved. And anyone meant any one. One young African-American male, his eyes baggy, was drifting amongst the empty streets, searching for people who could be saved. 

In the wake of the disaster, Cursed Spirits became a lot more abundant and plentiful, with attacks on civilians becoming more prevalent. Anyone in his position would be especially vulnerable.

But not him.

Even after being awake for dozens of hours on end, facing beings beyond the comprehension of normal people, his determination would not waver.

He walked up to a group of people all huddled together in the remains of a building and crouched down to look at them.

"Are you all okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse and gravelly, struggling to not hack up a lung

"Yes.... Thank you." one of the people said, an old man with graying hair. "Young man, you should-"

"Please head to safety. Emergency services are in the area, just go straight, and then go past the last 3 rights, and you'll find some people on the fourth right." the young man said, the gravel in his voice slowly fading as he seemed to regain his composure. 

"I'll be fine, I'm helping rescue people."

"Thank you so much...!"

Even in the face of a massive cursed Spirit, he would not yield. Even as the air was filled with the shrill scream of a terrified woman.

"GOLDEN!" he shouted

As he shouted it out, a shadowed warrior wielding an axe appeared and split the curse in half, its body seeming to dissipate as it was flooded with golden light, the spectacle illuminating the street as the curse faded, while the young man started to stagger slightly, the bags on his eyes seeming to grow ever deeper from his battle fatigue

The young woman bounced up to him, revealing herself to be a gyaru, who seemed all too eager to thank her rescuer

"Hey.... Daddy~..."

'Who, Where, What in the fuck?' [Seeker] thought as the busty gyaru strode up to him, his eyes squinting as he saw her forehead scars.

"I wanna thank you for saving me, daddy... Let's go and have some fun elsewhere... I know a love hotel nearby..." the gyaru said, twirling a lock of her hair coquettishly. 'He's in my sights now... I can feel his girthiness inside me now...'

"We are in the middle of a disaster zone. I'd advise you to go elsewhere..." he said, leaning on the remains of what used to be a building, now a monument to the widespread destruction.

"C'mon... I'll make it worth your while... You speak such good Japanese too... Let me reward you... After all... You deserve it, daddy..."

[Seeker] immediately backed away, and observing the scar on her forehead, summoned one of his Shadow Servants, and used an ability to survey what they had up their sleeve, and his mind sputtered as he saw...

'Huh...? A paralytic drug? In a Cursed Spirit? Her brain...? Ugh, this is already shaping up to be weird....' the young man thought as he straightened himself and grunted in pain.

"Theodoric."

Upon saying that, a dark knight on a chimeric mount appeared, and much like the other summon that was performed, its appearance was marred in shadow, and this time, a grueling storm of lightning and thick miasma built up around it, seeming to consume everything in the vicinity, and incorporating it into itself, the act of doing so coincided with its' summoner's weary bones growing ever wearier, his body twitching and spasming, as if the very storm would burst from his own body in response to its own fatigue.

But it was a perfect maneuver to counter whatever this enemy was.

'Theodoric's Noble Phantasm is near perfect for this. If it worked well enough in Shibuya, it'll get whoever she is down.... I can't waste time though, I'm going to give out...'

In response, her head slammed into her hands, fingers digging into her scalp as her vision blurred and her thoughts twisted into a knot. 

Every pulse of her brain felt like a hammer strike, each throb echoing through her skull like a distant explosion. 

Her eyes strained, bulging from the pressure, her body fighting against the overwhelming surge of pain.

And then she smirked. 'Thank goodness I can still use Reverse Cursed Technique in this body...' She smirked and started to confidently walk forwards, the brain damage minimized to such an extent that she could keep moving.

Meanwhile, he had started to stagger and nod off even more, his own body rebelling against him. But he knew that he couldn't yield. Yielding meant death.

His overtired body felt a massive wave of panic and fear, the primal urge for survival overriding his fatigued and battle racked body, the surge of energy coming all but too late.

But as he had less than fumes to run on, there was only one other option available.

RUN.

NOW.

"You will not escape me, Big Dick Randy!" Kenjaku shouted as they started to give chase, before the taste of metal and bile violently surged out of their body's mouth, a bloody mess surging onto the floor as a smirk spread on the woman's face. 'How cute. He's playing hard to get... I love it when they're scrambling and scraping...'

Meanwhile, in a nearby area...

"Bara's gone... And so's Kaito..." Saki Rindo muttered. "Who's going to tell me not to eat food out of the trash now...?"

"Stop eating food out of the tra-" Momo started

"Fuck you, you bum-ass glazer! You don't get to tell ME what to do!"

"Was that really necessary?!"

"Don't complain, I haven't seen such immaculate dickriding involving Kyoto since your Principal got a lap-dance from that Usami guy..."

"Principal Gakuganji got a WHAT?!"

Suddenly, the former delinquent turned student felt her hair standing up on end.

"Tch. Go make yourself useful and go fetch Itadori, and [Seeker]'s friend, messenger pigeon." Saki said, her voice tense. "We're going to need all the help we can get."

"Then let me help!" Momo replied. "I know Shibuya was a bad showing, but I-"

"Not worth it. You'll likely just get hurt, or killed accomplishing nothing. Just... go find whoever isn't too fucked up from the fallout of Shibuya and tell them to come immediately. Gotta feeling that something is really really wrong."

As the young man continued to run off into the ever fading dusk, only one thought crossed Kenjaku's twisted mind.

The chase was on.

/Author is not me, its my friend @AzureFlareNexus. He is like better at writing freaky ass shit and somehow its been 6 month and his ass is not even done 3 chapter of his own story...yes I am throwing shade.

Can't write 3 dam chapters in 6 months but can write this freaky stuff in days.

As for what I wrote. It tame.

/

Dawn found herself in a strange place; she did not know where she was. All she knew was that this was some sort of party.

She noticed that several rich people seemed to be in attendance, their lavish attire and confident demeanor making it clear they were well off.

However, she was thirsty. Grabbing a cup of water, she raised it to her lips.

Just as the water was about to touch her mouth, her instincts screamed at her. Something about it felt wrong. Off.

Across the party, a black man noticed her. He had never seen such a woman before.

Her skin was smooth, her body curvy, and the way her eyes seemed to glow made her look almost ethereal. She carried an air of innocence and grace.

But the diddler only had one thing in mind as he watched her.

He had to have her. Those baby oils were not going to use themselves up.

He walked closer to her.

"What up there, mama?" he said with a smirk.

Dawn felt something truly evil emanating from the man. Her brow furrowed slightly as she regarded him.

"Do I know you?" she asked, her tone guarded.

"Some call me Comes, some call me Puff Daddy. You can call me Diddy."

Dawn wasn't sure about this man. His aura felt overwhelmingly sinister.

"May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" he continued smoothly.

She hesitated before responding.

"Dawn," she said, her expression unreadable.

"Dawn... what a beautiful name."

He was a charmer, but she felt nothing for him.

"You look thirsty. Let me buy you a drink," he offered.

She shook her head slightly.

"You don't have to. It's fine."

"No, I beg to differ. It's a party. Let me treat you," he insisted with a smile.

"Server, give this wonderful lady your finest wine."

"I don't drink," Dawn said calmly.

"Oh, you don't?" His eyes glinted with something she couldn't quite place.

"There's a first time for everything," he said, his voice smooth as silk.

Dawn could feel his intentions from here. Was this the worst humanity had to offer? This was evil... truly evil.

The man whispered something to the waiter, who nodded and walked away to retrieve her drink.

"Never seen you before. Is this your first time at a Diddy party?" the man asked casually.

"Yes."

Jeez. The man in the sky sure was merciful. Fresh meat, served on a golden platter just for him. Just the thought of it almost aroused him.

When the bartender returned with the drink, the man took it before handing it to her.

"Let's have a toast to your first party," he said, smiling.

Dawn remained quiet, not saying a word.

She took the drink but, as she brought it to her lips, she hesitated.

Diddy watched her closely.

"Aren't you going to drink?"

"It smells funny," she replied flatly.

The diddler felt a thrill. A prey that could sense its trap? This was new. He wondered how she had managed to achieve such a feat.

But he had more tricks up his sleeve.

He clinked his glass loudly, drawing the attention of the entire party.

The man went on to talk, spinning a web of smooth words, weaving social pressure around her like a net.

Dawn's gaze swept the room. Some people seemed to look at her with pity, yet none of them spoke up.

They knew. They knew something was wrong with the drink. And yet, they said nothing.

Giving them a mental pass, she decided to take a sip.

The man seemed far too pleased when she did.

Dawn had never seen someone so evil. Someone whose very presence felt so dark.

As the party continued and guests slowly trickled out, Dawn held her head in her hands. A strange sensation coursed through her body.

She felt sluggish, yet oddly sensitive at the same time.

Her eyes widened.

Had she been... drugged?

The realization hit her like a brick. She struggled to move, dragging herself toward the exit.

Before she could reach it, she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

She froze.

His voice slithered into her ear.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Her pleading eyes darted to a nearby guest.

The man looked at her. Then, as if she were nothing, he turned and walked away.

As if he hadn't seen a thing.

This...

This...

Crack.

Humans are so evil.

The booty bandit was ready to strike again, someone did not get to dine with such scrumptious chocolate and let that slide.

Dawn's body felt like lead, her limbs sluggish and unresponsive.

But even in this fog, her instincts screamed at her—danger. Pure, unrelenting danger.

The diddler's hand tightened on her shoulder, his breath slithering into her ear like a serpent.

"Where do you think you're going, mama?"

Dawn's mind raced. Every fiber of her being told her that if she didn't act now, she'd end up on the back of a milk carton—or worse, a poorly lit documentary about "Survivors Who Got Away."

She wobbled slightly before suddenly throwing herself forward in the most ungraceful, desperate maneuver imaginable.

The sheer force of her movement made Diddy stumble, his grip slipping for just a moment—just long enough for Dawn to stagger forward, knocking over a waiter holding a tray of champagne in the process.

"HEY, WATCH IT!" the waiter yelled, now drenched in overpriced bubbly.

Diddy cursed, lunging forward, but Dawn, despite her jelly-like limbs, found newfound speed in the realization that she was NOT about to let a dude named Puff Daddy be her final boss fight.

She booked it, knocking over chairs, tables, and an unfortunate man carrying an entire fruit platter. A pineapple smacked Diddy in the face mid-pursuit, but he growled and kept going.

"STOP HER!" he barked, but the guests—being the type of rich people who only intervene when their wine is poured incorrectly—simply stepped aside and continued watching with vague amusement.

Dawn reached the grand staircase, her vision swimming. The exit. So close.

Diddy, in his desperation, lunged at her again—only for his foot to catch on a decorative rug.

The world slowed.

As Dawn stumbled, her vision still swimming, she felt a sudden force—hands shoving her forward.

She barely registered what was happening before she collided with a broad chest.

A sickening sound followed.

ZZZZZIP.

Her mind barely had time to process before the weight of pure, unfiltered evil pressed down on her.

Her breath hitched.

Something inside her snapped.

Her pupils dilated, then shrank to slits.

Her irises, once a deep brown, flared gold—a color so intense it seemed to shimmer, before slowly morphing into an otherworldly, creamy white.

Heat surged through her veins.

The pressure, the fear, the revulsion—all of it burned away in an instant, replaced by something ancient. Something furious.

A gust of wind, despite there being none inside the building, rushed outward from her body.

Feathers—pure, blinding white feathers—sprouted from her back.

Then, everything faded to black.

When the scene cut back in, the room was silent.

The air hung heavy, thick with something unnatural.

Dawn stood in the center of it all, her breath ragged, her entire body trembling.

Her wings, now stained at the tips with something dark, twitched slightly.

Her golden dress was no longer pristine.

It was splattered—drenched—in red.

Blood dripped from her fingertips, slow and deliberate, as if time itself had decided to take its time acknowledging what had just happened.

Her nose bled.

Her eyes wept crimson.

She felt hollow. Drained. Like something inside her had been used—taken—to carry out whatever had just happened.

And across from her, sprawled out on the cold, expensive floor...

Diddy.

Or rather, what was left of him.

His eyes were open.

But they were empty.

Not dead in the normal sense.

No.

There was nothing left inside.

No soul. No life. Just a husk.

His mouth was frozen in a silent scream, his hands twisted as if he had tried to fight back—tried to resist whatever she had unleashed.

But he had failed.

And now, he was just... gone.

Dawn stared at the lifeless form, something deeply wrong curling in her stomach.

She had done this.

But she didn't know how.

She stumbled, her vision blurring as exhaustion swallowed her whole.

With heavy, sluggish steps, she dragged herself out of the room, her breath shuddering, leaving behind only the husk of what once was.