Jujutsu Kaisen: False Dawn

Ren's eyelids fluttered as the heavy silence of the infirmary pressed down on him. He flexed his fingers, curling them into fists. His skin pulled against the bandages, tight and raw.

A long, shaky breath escaped him as he sat up, ribs aching beneath the wrappings.

Fucking hell… it really felt like I was getting cut by paper a thousand times over. Again, and again, and again. Every inch of me screaming, but not from pain—just that unbearable sting. Ugh… whatever. That's over now. But so is my hope of using the reverse cursed technique…

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the recent memory wash over him. The warmth that had spread through his body when Shoko's technique flowed into him—fascinating, but at the same time disappointing.

I got a feel for it this time. It's all nice. Feels like… warm air brushing past my skin, settling in my veins. Comforting, almost. But in the end, that's all it was. A feeling. No technique, no deeper connection. Useless for me. It doesn't matter anyway—I was never particularly talented in jujutsu, not the way others are. Not naturally gifted, not overflowing with talent.

His lips twitched upward, bitter but not defeated.

But that doesn't mean I have nothing. My real strength isn't raw talent. It's theory. It's understanding. Ha… I see connections others miss. I piece together what others overlook. And now, after Sutoku…

Ren's gaze lowered, his expression shadowed with awe and exhaustion.

The understanding I gained from his cursed technique was… by far the most different and profound one I've ever touched. Divine Writ: Ink Sutra… just thinking about it feels heavy. That cursed technique—it isn't just powerful. It's transcendent. A thing that shouldn't exist, and yet does. Stronger than anything else I've laid my hands on. Even stronger than Copy, maybe… but thanks to Copy, I now hold it too. Hahaha…

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head at the absurdity.

I was wrong before. Comparing it to cursed speech was foolish. Cursed speech manipulates reality by force, using sound and cursed energy as the medium. But Divine Writ? No… it doesn't manipulate. It rewrites. It engraves over reality itself, whether it's something or even nothing. It is erasure and creation in one, bound only by the hour of undoing. The world, the void, all of it—subject to rewriting. The understanding of that cursed technique is something almost impossible to explain, but… I have it now. Every stroke. Every weight of the kanji. Every implication Sutoku bled into the world.

Ren clenched his fists tighter, his mind alight with clarity.

And that's why I'm ready. Truly ready. I know the plan now. It's time to weaponize my own technique—Red Stitch. Before, I always felt like something was missing. That I lacked too much. But now? Now I lack nothing. I even have Rika. Sutoku didn't just give me a fight to the death. He showed me my flaws. He carved them out in blood. And more importantly… he showed me the way to rewrite them. To rewrite myself. I understand it now. The only thing left… is to begin.

The door suddenly burst open.

Mei Mei swept in like a storm, her usually composed appearance disheveled. Stray strands of hair framed her face, and her sharp eyes zeroed in on him at once.

"You reckless fool!" Her voice cracked, harsh but trembling. She strode quickly to his bedside, fists clenched. "Why didn't you tell me you were suffering wounds like this? I would've taken you here faster! Do you have any idea how—how dangerous—" She bit her lip, then snapped again. "And don't even get me started on how you collapsed the moment we arrived! Do you want to give me a heart attack?!"

Before she could release another barrage, Ren simply raised one bandaged hand and pressed a finger lightly against her lips.

"Shh." His tone was calm, almost soft. "My ears hurt. Loud voices sting right now." He paused, his eyes gleaming faintly with amusement. "…Also, why are you even here? Go to my dorm, take a bath or something. You smell like leaves."

For one beat, Mei Mei froze. His touch—gentle, unexpectedly intimate—stopped her in her tracks.

Then his words registered, and her face twisted in exasperation.

She jerked back, cheeks faintly warm, and huffed. "I do not smell like leaves!" She turned her head away, arms crossing. "Idiot… you'd better give me a long explanation once you get back to your dorm!"

Ren only gave a small nod, leaning back slightly against the headboard.

Mei Mei glared, then stomped toward the door, muttering under her breath.

Her thoughts were a mess, tumbling faster than her words. Damn him… Who gave him the right to touch my lips like that?! If he doesn't want to talk, he could've just told me. But no, he had to—ugh! And then telling me to go to his dorm? To take a bath? Does he… does he have other ideas? Her pulse quickened. Telling me to clean up and get ready for—no, no, no! He's not like that! He would never—

Her face flushed despite herself. She shook her head violently, trying to banish the thought, but her steps betrayed her—moving faster toward Ren's dorm.

As she turned a corner, still lost in her own spiraling thoughts, she nearly brushed shoulders with another girl walking the opposite way.

The woman wore round glasses that caught the hallway's dim light, obscuring her eyes for a moment. She walked with measured steps, quiet but deliberate, her gaze cutting briefly toward Mei Mei before continuing forward without a word.