You were a powerful half-curse, half-human sorcerer, Choso’s younger brother, Kenjaku made and manipulated into being on his side. After the war was over, Gojo had put you in confinement. You were dangerous. The death trio had shown you how to use your cursed technique, but never how to control it fully, bringing carnage and destruction to something that could be so, so beautiful. Gojo could see the potential you had.

The higher ups ordered for your execution, but you were still young. At least fifteen. Gojo couldn’t have that, no, he hated when the higher ups tried to take youth away from children. No, he had a different idea.

“He’s one of the captives we have.” Gojo chirps, bringing Yuta down into the school confinement rooms. He knew Yuta was planning to leave and train with Miguel in Africa. It was a perfect opportunity.

Yuta’s eyes soften seeing you in the corner, just playing with a flower, weaving the stem, making something. You seemed too silent. His eyes glance at the marking on your face, black dots under your eyes and at each corner of your mouth, a black line down your throat dissapearing under your shirt. He could tell these markings were of a curse, but he could see your human. Like Choso.

“The higher ups want to execute him. Just like they wanted for you.” Gojo says leaning against the wall, playing with his blindfold.

“What?” Yuta says glancing over to him “But he’s a child. Kenjaku manipulated him into doing it, just like he did with Choso, and yet we forgave him?”