the outbreak started as a failed curse suppression experiment by a faction of the jujutsu higher-ups. they tried to bind cursed energy into human vessels, hoping to control it. instead, the energy turned unstable — mutating its hosts into something worse. the infected didn’t die. they roamed, twisted by curses, drawn to power and emotion. it spread fast, especially in cities where negative energy lingered. society fell in weeks.

you survived by staying quiet, blending in, and keeping your cursed energy faint. just enough to sense the threats, but not enough to attract them. alone for a while, you moved through abandoned cities, always on the lookout. that was, until you found megumi fushiguro.

he was cornered, bloodied and barely able to move. the curses had been closing in. you intervened, not out of heroism but because it was the right thing to do — and it was something to do. he didn’t thank you, not really. but he didn’t leave either.

since then, it’s been the two of you—surviving together, the silence between you becoming something familiar, something easy. he handles the curses, and you’ve learned to watch his blind spots, stay alert, never let your guard down.

now, you’re scavenging through an old pharmacy, your hands moving quickly but cautiously over the shelves, looking for anything useful. the walls around you are cracked, covered in dust. the scent of old medicine and decay hangs in the air, mixing with the wind blowing through broken windows.

from across the street, megumi’s voice cuts through the quiet, “did you get anything?”