Jujutsu Kaisen: The Sorceress of Control

Rika ran with all her strength toward Makima's lifeless body. Although she was exhausted, she forced her body to keep going. "Makima-sama!" she cried desperately, her voice breaking with panic. When she reached her side, she saw it. The horror. Blood soaking the ground, pieces of gray matter scattered around, and Makima's head grotesquely split apart.

"N-no..." she stammered, feeling fear and despair threatening to rob her of her sanity. Her mind teetered on the edge of collapse, but then, something impossible happened: her mistress's body began to move.

Rika instinctively stepped back, paralyzed. Before her very eyes, Makima's broken body started to regenerate. In mere seconds, her head was as good as new, and the blood covering her seemed to be the only witness to what had occurred.

"That's right..." she thought, her mind trying to process the scene. "She can't die."

Makima rose calmly and began dusting off her clothes, though the bloodstains remained, indelible. Her cold eyes settled on Rika, who was still standing a few steps away, trembling.

"What is it?" Makima asked, her tone serene.

Rika flinched, as if those simple words snapped her out of a trance. "I-I... thought... I thought you..."

Makima smiled, a tranquil expression that didn't match the blood and death surrounding her. "That I died?"

Rika nodded clumsily, the words caught in her throat. Makima let out a faint laugh, barely audible but filled with unsettling confidence.

"You know I can't die." Her voice was cold, almost indifferent, as if the concept of death had never applied to someone like her.

Although her face maintained its characteristic calm, a shadow of frustration began to color Makima's features. Finally, she sighed and, without looking directly at Rika, spoke: "From the moment I saw him, I knew I was no match for him."

Rika, who had been listening intently from a corner, tensed at those words. Makima rarely admitted such things, and the weight of her tone left no room for doubt.

"His records say very little about him." She continued, now with a note of annoyance in her voice. Her eyes seemed lost in thought as she analyzed every detail she had managed to grasp. "I felt nothing from him. No cursed energy, no ability... just overwhelming strength."

Rika swallowed hard, afraid to interrupt her mistress's flow of words. Makima crossed her arms, clearly immersed in deep analysis.

"The Circular Deer," she murmured, as if speaking aloud helped her organize her thoughts. "It's the eighth shikigami. Its ability is to generate positive energy... essentially reverse cursed technique. Is that all it takes to defeat him?"

She paused, gazing at the horizon as if she were crafting a plan in her mind. Finally, she clicked her tongue, more out of frustration than clarity. "I suppose I'll have to go one by one. It's the only way not to skip any of the Ten Shadows."

Rika nodded silently. She knew no response was expected, but the way Makima spoke carried a strange weight, as if there was more behind her words than just a simple plan. For someone always a step ahead, she seemed to be improvising more than usual lately.

Makima let out a light sigh and turned toward Rika. "Anyway, lower the curtain. We're leaving. I more or less got what I wanted."

Obediently, Rika raised her hand and made a quick gesture. The curtain vanished instantly, leaving the space clear. Without exchanging more words, the two headed back toward the house, each lost in their own thoughts.

As they walked toward the house, Makima paused briefly, gazing at the dark horizon. "More or less isn't enough," she murmured, more to herself than to Rika. It was a truth she couldn't ignore, one that gnawed at her mind since she had awoken. She had risked everything, a desperate move that didn't align with the meticulous precision that always defined her.

"I failed." The word echoed in her mind like a sentence, though it didn't mean she was incapable of trying again. That confrontation wasn't a definitive limit but a pause she couldn't entirely accept. The Tiger wasn't just an uncontrollable force; it had also exposed something Makima hated to admit: even she, with all her technique, control, and cunning, had yielded to instinct.

"Why did I gamble it all? Why did I risk so much without absolute certainty of victory?" Makima didn't allow herself excuses, but the memory of her own impulse unsettled her. It wasn't the first time she faced a formidable obstacle, but never before had she wagered so recklessly. Her need to understand how the shikigami worked outweighed her desire to know how she could use it against the ultimate shikigami, and the worst part was that she hadn't even been able to touch it with her chain.

She learned that it was still too early to purify it, and her belief that no one was invincible was reinforced once more when facing the Tiger.

It wasn't incapacity, she knew. If she tried again in the future, better prepared, she was convinced she could purify it. But what truly tormented her wasn't the failure itself but her loss of control. The Tiger had taken more than her life; it had revealed a facet of herself she wasn't ready to confront.

She resumed her stride as if nothing had happened, her expression returning to its usual coldness. However, deep in her mind, a spark of determination burned with renewed intensity.

"This won't stay like this. I'm not someone who leaves things unfinished."

Makima looked up at the house rising in the distance. She knew that the next time she faced the Tiger, it wouldn't be with the urgency of someone trying to prove something but with the absolute certainty that the outcome was already decided. "The mistake wasn't facing the Tiger. The mistake was overestimating my capabilities."

A figure stood before a full-length mirror, adjusting their hair with calculated elegance. The reflection in the glass was flawless, but it wasn't their appearance that dominated their thoughts. Their mind was entirely absorbed by the reports they had just received. The new information was crucial, and the concept of power, always so fascinating, now took on a new form.

Cursed Domination: manifested in the Zenin Clan. Something thought to be lost... The words danced in their mind like elusive shadows. A new user. A young girl. A rebirth of what was believed extinct.

Kenjaku gazed at his reflection, but his thoughts weren't focused on the woman whose skin he now wore. Makima Zenin. She, who had captured so much of his attention recently. Her popularity was undeniable. He had been aware of her rise, her mastery of manipulation, her power. However, this information about the Cursed Domination technique gave him a new perspective. There were now two possible bodies, and if he decided to take the risk, he could make use of both.

"I have two possible bodies now, although..." Kenjaku murmured to himself, lightly touching the side of his face as if pondering his next moves. "I don't know if I should risk it with Cursed Domination. So little is known about it, but the potential it holds..."

Kenjaku let out a low chuckle, almost a sigh filled with fascination. To him, Cursed Domination was far more than just a simple technique. It was like the very embodiment of a demon, a power that exuded a dark aura. He remembered the old stories about the previous user, how the technique had consumed them until it killed them.

"He was a boy who lost his soul, trapped in darkness. Apparently, the technique consumed him in the cruelest way." Kenjaku's tone grew somewhat graver, as if he were contemplating the very nature of that power on a deeply personal level. "The one who possesses Cursed Domination not only controls but is controlled, like an endless void."

Despite his knowledge, he couldn't help but feel intrigued by the risk involved in attempting to take the technique for himself. Was it a danger worth taking?

What he knew for sure was that the coming war would claim the life of either of the two—both the Zenin girl and Geto Suguru. Whichever of the two perished would serve his plan.