A thousand years of memories are like a vast sea of mist. The fragments of this "Fujiwara" are few, but not without trace.
From what I recall, it was near the end of the Heian period. Zen'in Genji was invincible, leading Mahoraga to clear the four directions, rectify the order of the jujutsu world, and "purge" those special-grade cursed spirits that were too rampant or harmful. This woman did not confront Genji directly, but before his thunderous sweep, she used her domain and the Great Barrier to quietly shelter and hide some cursed spirits, and together they "disappeared."
They were like rats sensing a storm in advance, burrowing into the deepest, most hidden caves, avoiding the indiscriminate destruction of Zen'in Genji and Mahoraga. At that time, Sukuna himself was either fighting other powerful enemies or conserving his strength. He scoffed at such "hiding" behavior and paid it little attention. He only knew that such a "generation of rats" existed and didn't bother to recall their specific appearance or abilities.
Sukuna's intuition told him that this woman's power was far from simple.
"Hmph, hiding your head and tail for a thousand years, are you ready to come out now?" Sukuna's hands were in the pockets of his tracksuit, his posture casual, but his crimson eyes were sharp as knives. "Why? Did seeing that bastard Zen'in Genji wake up make you feel like you can't hide anymore? Or…"
He paused, a hint of playful malice in his voice:
"Do you think now is… a good time to fish in troubled waters?"
Sukuna's straightforward sarcasm and provocation towards Fujiwara still maintained her flawless smile, as if painted on by a ruler. She tilted her head slightly, her long dark hair sliding over her delicate collarbone, her gaze seeming to pierce through Sukuna, transcending time and space, seeing something deeper.
"Your Highness, Falling Sky, jests," her voice remained soft and beautiful. "I simply feel that after a thousand years, a storm is rising again. Some old 'fates' also need to be continued. Perhaps some future 'bureaus'… could also add another chess piece."
Her words were vague and full of insinuation, but she refused to speak clearly.
Sukuna impatiently clicked his tongue. He hated this kind of vague, roundabout style. If you've got something to say, say it. If not, shut up—that was his consistent style.
Apparently sensing Sukuna's impatience, Fujiwara finally stopped beating around the bush. With a slight flick of her wide sleeves, an ancient box, the size of a palm, appeared out of nowhere in her white hand. It was carved entirely from some dull ebony, covered with delicate lotus petals and ghostly face patterns. The box was not locked, but its closure flowed with an extremely mysterious cursed seal, which had the same origin as Fujiwara's aura.
Fujiwara lightly tapped her fingertip on the box's lid.
Click.
With a soft sound, the seal lifted, and the lid automatically slid back.
In an instant, a dense, brutal, and ominous cursed energy fluctuation, like an unsealed monster, burst from the box!
Sukuna suddenly stiffened, his gaze fixed on the contents of the box.
The box was lined with crimson flannel, and on top of it, neatly arranged and quietly resting—
Nine fingers.
Nine fingers identical to the one Sukuna had just swallowed: whole body pitch black, spiral lines twisted, radiating terrifying cursed energy fluctuations—
Sukuna's fingers!
Nine! A full nine special-grade cursed objects! Cursed energy aggregates capable of triggering national-level disasters! At this moment, like the most ordinary snacks, they were presented in a wooden box in this beautiful woman's hands!
After an initial pause, Sukuna's expression quickly returned to its manic, playful look. He didn't reach for them immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, stared into Fujiwara's deep eyes, and the corner of his lips curled into an undisguised, mocking, and discerning smile.
Snort… He gave a short laugh and shook his head, as if seeing something extremely ridiculous and stupid.
"Not a small gesture, 'Fujiwara,'" Sukuna's voice was lazy, but sharp as a needle. "It seems you haven't been hiding for nothing these thousand years. Not only did you hide well, but you also secretly saved a lot of 'good things'?"
He didn't ask "how did you get them?" or "what do you want?" At their level, some things don't need to be spelled out.
The ability to gather nine of Sukuna's fingers, scattered everywhere or tightly sealed, shows this woman's energy, resources, and patience. And she chose to take out this "big gift" here and now, right after Sukuna had just appeared, swallowed a finger, and displayed some of his power…
"It looks like…" Sukuna extended his right hand, his movements as casual as if taking a piece of candy, casually picked a finger out of the wooden box, held it up before his eyes, and examined it. His crimson pupils reflected the dark spiral lines, his tone almost pityingly mocking:
"Your ambitions, woman… are not small."
He didn't say her "goal is very big" but used "ambitions are not small." This was a kind of positioning and condescending judgment. As if saying: I see your calculations, your investment, your … or your use. But in my eyes, your scheming isn't a "plot"; at best, it's a "little move" with some "ambition."
Fujiwara's smile remained unchanged in the face of Sukuna's mockery and almost insulting, casual demeanor. Even the curve of her lips didn't flicker. She only slightly lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes casting a faint shadow on her pale cheeks, her voice as soft as ever:
"This humble woman's strength is weak. Surviving a thousand years was by chance. How dare I speak of ambition. However… by chance, these things return to their original owner, finding their way… perhaps it's just a 'path' that can be taken further."
"These fingers left here with me are just gathering dust. In Your Highness Falling Sky's hands, their true edge can be restored," she extended the wooden box again, her attitude respectful but not humble. "Just consider this… a small 'welcome gift' to congratulate Your Highness on your return."
Sukuna watched her flawless performance, a flicker of boredom in his crimson eyes, but he understood the essence of this "deal." He wasn't polite, taking the entire wooden box and claiming the remaining eight fingers as well.
"Welcome gift?" Sukuna shook the wooden box in his hand, feeling the majestic cursed energy within, and sneered. "Fine, I accept the gift. As for your 'path'…"
He raised his crimson eyes, stared at Fujiwara, and enunciated word by word:
"Don't get in my way. Don't try to use me as a weapon."
"Otherwise," Sukuna smiled, a bloodthirsty grin, the King of Curses' terrifying killing intent spreading like a physical substance, causing the surrounding temperature to drop sharply. "No matter how deep you hide or how well you conceal yourself… I can still dig you and your rat droppings out of the ground and chop them up to feed the dogs."
A threat, naked, undisguised.
Fujiwara's body stiffened slightly, her perfect smile seeming to freeze for a ten-thousandth of a second. But she quickly returned to normal and bowed slightly again:
"I dare not. I only wish for Your Highness Falling Sky's martial arts to flourish."
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