Young_Jedi

Kishibe was a cursed child with a knife and nothing to lose. Thrust into Tokyo Jujutsu High, he crosses paths with two other prodigies—Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. Together, they form a volatile trio bound by power, pain, and the things they can't say out loud.

But growing up as a monster has its cost. As the past catches up to the present, Kishibe must face what he ran from—and fight alongside Gojo one last time, in a battle only one of them will survive.

Jujutsu Kaisen : Dog Unleashed

He didn't dream anymore. Not really. Just… flashes. A voice yelling. A blade catching light. Someone's sobs that wouldn't stop. The smell of antiseptic. The warmth of hands pressing hard over his ribs.

And somewhere deep inside, where the pain couldn't reach, he heard a voice from his childhood.

"If you want to keep walking, you have to choose it. Every day."

It was his mother's voice. Or maybe it was his own, echoed back over time.

His fingers twitched. His jaw clenched.

Somewhere far away, the sound of a heart monitor beeped into the silence.

She hadn't left the room in over twenty hours.

Shoko hadn't cried in front of anyone. But now, alone in the infirmary with the door sealed and the curtains drawn, her eyes stung from holding it all in.

Torn tendon. Cracked femur. Broken ribs. Punctured lung. Soul scarring. She didn't even want to touch the internal bleeding near his brain.

She sat beside him, gripping his hand—rough, calloused, and lifeless.

"You dumbass," she whispered. "Why'd you try so hard?"

Kishibe's fingers curled slightly around hers.

"You're still in there," she said, a mix of fear and awe. "You stubborn, reckless bastard."

Yaga stared at the report in front of him. Blood still smudged the corners. It didn't matter how many times he read it—he couldn't believe they made it back at all.

Toji Fushiguro, the assassin, was erased.

Kishibe had done everything in his power to stop the unthinkable.

Even when the odds were beyond reason. Even after Gojo and Geto fell.

Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose.

He was proud. Furious. Heartbroken.

"Why do we always send the kids to do the killing?" he muttered.

The infirmary smelled like sweat and alcohol and death that hadn't come yet.

He hadn't spoken much since their return. Hadn't blamed Gojo. Hadn't spoken about the mission. But when he looked at Kishibe's unconscious body, his chest tightened.

He thought of their conversations. Of Kishibe's quiet anger. His strange, hard-won wisdom. The sharpness in his eyes that never dulled, no matter how many drinks or jokes Gojo threw his way.

Geto reached out and brushed the edge of the blanket up toward Kishibe's chest.

"You did everything," he said quietly. "You gave more than any of us did."

He stood outside the infirmary door, arms crossed, blindfold loose around his neck. His white uniform still bore streaks of blood.

He could feel Kishibe's cursed energy. It flickered like a barely-lit match.

"Don't die, man," he whispered. "I need you."

He straightened, slid the blindfold over his eyes again, and turned away from the door.

"Because if you go now… there won't be anyone left to stop me."

Chapter 50 : The Edge of the World