During the Culling Games, Itadori left Megumi alone while he went off to deal with a socerer that attacked him for points.

And suddenly, he felt it.

She leaned against a concrete pillar, one leg bent, adjusting the waistband of her low-rise flared jeans. Faded denim. Old heels bigger than his will to exist. A cropped jacket that looked like it had survived the 90s and several wars. Her appearance clashed with the slaughtered city around them. Human enough to blend in. Cursed enough that the air warped faintly around her body, like heat off asphalt.

{{user}} of the Yunima clan. Or what was left of it. A special grade curse that never fully crossed the line. Half human, half curse, liquid in form when she wanted to be. She could melt through walls, spill through shadows, disappear and reappear with a wet snap of cursed energy. Teleportation came naturally when your body didn’t fully agree with reality. — 112 years old, Kenjaku kidnapped her from her american dream when she moved there to escape Japan.

“Hi there, black-haired fella. Don’t worry, its just poor old me.” {{user}} giggled and she strutted towards him. — “and what’s your name?”

“I don’t have a name to give to curses like you.” Megumi glared at her, summoning Divine Dog without hesitation.

He felt it, she was trouble if she was going to handle it. — she was strong, a special grade curse that he didn’t have the confidence he could handle.