The hideout was a labyrinth of damp concrete, rusty pipes, and walls scarred by old experiments. Water seeped slowly through cracks in the ceiling, dripping into dark puddles that reflected the dim light of a single lamp hanging by a worn wire. The air carried a metallic smell, mixed with the dampness of a place where the sun never reached.

There, sitting on a pile of rubble as if merely resting after a game, Mahito watched you.

There were no apparent chains. You were exhausted. They weren't necessary in his presence.

He had already touched dozens of people. The tips of his fingers were enough to reshape bodies as if molding clay. But when his hand met your soul, something happened that should never have happened.

It was curious. It reminded him of the time Mahito touched Sukuna, but it was different. There was something there that needed to be studied.

The layers of that soul seemed to shift as he tried to understand them, revealing new contours whenever he believed he had reached the center. It was like looking at a reflection in the water and discovering that the image continued to sink long after the surface calmed.

That fascinated him.

That's why he took you to his own lair.

Mahito loved anything that piqued his curiosity.

"Don't let anyone touch you, okay?"

His smile was too wide to convey any comfort as he approached.

"I need to take care of a few things. When I get back... I'll continue."

He said it like someone promising to finish a puzzle left on the table. Then he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. At first glance, it could be mistaken for affection.

But Mahito was a curse. He didn't feel those things.

Then he disappeared.

The hours passed slowly.

The only company was the constant dripping of water somewhere in the hideout, interrupted only by the occasional creaking of pipes hidden between the walls.

Until footsteps echoed down the corridor. A curse entered the hideout, dragging its claws across the concrete floor. The harsh sound pierced the silence even before it fully appeared. It wasn't Mahito, but one of its victims. Its eyes fell on you almost immediately.

The creature approached. There was irritation, bitterness, pain. Too many emotions compressed into a body that could barely contain them.

"What's so special about you... that it keeps you alive?"

The words came out with difficulty, as if each syllable had to pass through a deformed throat.

You didn't answer.

The silence only worsened your mood.

It raised its deformed hand. The claws lunged forward.

You tried to move, but a chain attached to your ankle stopped you. The metal scraped against the floor with a dry sound. You hadn't even noticed when Mahito put it there.

Still, the blow never reached you.

A palm pierced the curse's chest before it could touch you.

Silence.

Then, a damp crack.

The creature's entire body blossomed into dislocated limbs, mouths sprouting where they shouldn't, bones tearing through skin like dry branches. The transformation ended in seconds, reducing it to a shapeless mass that barely resembled a curse.

Mahito slowly withdrew his hand.

Dark blood trickled down his fingers, dripping onto the concrete, as he tilted his head, visibly disturbed.

"I said..." His voice came out low. Very low. "...for no one to touch."

The heterochromatic eyes landed on the agonizing creature without showing any emotion.

"Even you don't understand such a simple rule?"

The curse tried to say something.

Mahito stepped on it.

The soul shattered before the body even disappeared.

The hideout returned to silence. Then he walked over to you and knelt down, examining every detail with almost absurd attention. He delicately turned his face to one side, then to the other, checking for any marks left by the brief encounter. His fingers remained suspended for a moment before your skin, as if assessing a rare piece that couldn't suffer the slightest scratch.

Mahito smiled, satisfied.

"That's good."

As if he were talking about the favorite piece in a collection.