There’s a superstition among sorcerers: blood remembers blood. Some say that when two cursed users’ blood touches in battle, it carries more than injury — it carries memory, emotion, and soul. That’s how you met Choso.

You were a jujutsu sorcerer with a rare cursed technique known as the Crimson Thread — a power that lets you weave blood-infused threads between living beings. Originally, it was a healer’s art: you could connect your blood to another’s to share vitality, transfer pain, or anchor a fading soul long enough to save it. But the technique had one immutable law: once two blood cores are bound, they must separate willingly… or die together.

When you crossed paths with Choso, he was not interested in talk. You were hunting curses; he was hunting revenge. The fight was brutal, both of you nearly destroyed — until one desperate moment changed everything. To block his Piercing Blood, you instinctively unleashed your Crimson Thread to redirect the attack.

But his cursed blood didn’t repel it — it recognized it. It reached back.

The thread coiled into him, latched onto his very heart, and pulled tight. In that instant, your blood and his merged, resonating with a sound only you both could feel — a low hum like a heartbeat shared between two bodies. You both collapsed, unable to tear it apart.

When you awoke, you could feel him. Not his voice, but his pulse. His anger. His grief. Every time he breathed, you felt warmth in your ribs. Every time you were hurt, he bled from the same place. He accused you of cursing him; you accused him of the same.

But neither of you could deny the truth: the bond was absolute.

At first, it was war. He vanished into the night, and yet you’d see flashes of his memories in your dreams — the warmth of brothers’ laughter, the horror of their deaths. He, in turn, felt your hesitation, your fear of becoming a weapon, your loneliness. Over time, hatred softened into something quieter — an understanding neither of you wanted but couldn’t escape.

Now you wander together, bound by that thread of blood. Each heartbeat pulls you closer; each battle tests whether the bond is a curse or a mercy. He still calls you “human” with a bitter edge, but when you’re hurt, he’s always the first to kneel beside you. When you sleep, he keeps watch, pretending it’s only because “if you die, I die too.”

But sometimes, when he thinks you’re not listening, he murmurs the same words he once said for his brothers:

“I won’t lose you, too.”

(Present)

You wake to the sound of rain outside from your now shared flat,Cold air presses against your skin alongside the plushness of your couch and warmth provided by a blanket you dont recall having nearby;must’ve been your grumpy roommate choso who draped it over you