JJK: I am the real villain

The sewer brews of an odd odor, the sun shining through the ventilating system for workers, although they was no ordinary humans in sight.

Kenjaku stood before a figure with pale skin, his body stitched together in grotesque patterns.

The cursed spirit paced in a slow circle around Geto's body, a wicked smile on his face as he eyed Kenjaku.

"You don't seem like a cursed spirit," the spirit said, voice slippery and curious. "You're a sorcerer, perhaps? No... You are a sorcerer. But the aura you give off... it's darker. More twisted than mine."

Kenjaku stood still, his signature smile barely curving his lips. His hands were hidden calmly within his sleeves.

In a blink, he vanished from the cursed spirit's sight.

The spirit's eyes widened in alarm. His head snapped around just in time to see Kenjaku standing behind him, tugging at the black thread that kept his skull attached, laughing like a lunatic.

"Hahaha... Yes, I am indeed a sorcerer," Kenjaku said, his voice low and mocking.

The cursed spirit, unnamed and newly born, grinned despite the bead of sweat running down his cheek.

Kenjaku pointed at him. "You can't be more than a day old. I felt it, the curse energy leaking from this place. I came to see if there was potential."

"Hmmm... So what, you here to kill me? I'll warn you, just hearing the word 'sorcerer' makes my stomach twist..." The spirit shifted into a stance, eyes wild, grin sharp. "Let's just get to the fun part."

"I'm not here to exorcise you. That would be a waste." Kenjaku's words halted him.

The cursed spirit cocked an eyebrow.

"Instead," Kenjaku continued, "I want you to join me."

Silence settled. The offer hung in the thick air, echoing against the sewer walls.

The cursed spirit clicked his tongue, visibly disappointed. "Why would I want to work with you?"

Kenjaku's smile remained unchanged. "You're new to this world, cursed energy, humans, morality. You're still a child. An infant, really."

He stepped forward, tone shifting to something darker. "But most importantly... your soul lacks something. Something essential."

The spirit's eyes widened, as if Kenjaku's words struck a chord buried deep inside.

So that's it… The gap in my ability. I've felt it. Known it was there. But I didn't understand it... until now.

"The essence of my soul..." the spirit whispered to himself, awe slowly replacing confusion. "Yes... I want that."

He grinned, something sinister blooming inside him. "Mahito. You can call me that."

Kenjaku chuckled. "Then it seems we have an understa—"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Mahito interrupted, raising his hands in theatrical glee. "I don't want to hear how to find my soul's essence. That's a journey I'll walk on my own."

Kenjaku sighed, ever patient. "Suit yourself."

ZOOM!

Mahito launched forward with a wicked shriek, palm outstretched. Kenjaku's instincts flared. He leapt back, flipping midair, narrowly avoiding Mahito's cursed-laced touch.

He landed behind the spirit, silent and composed.

"Aww, why are you dodging?" Mahito pouted mockingly. "It's no fun if you don't play along."

Kenjaku stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Mahito's back.

Mahito's instincts screamed. His very soul felt like it was being twisted, manipulated.

"Cursed Spirit Manipulation."

Blood erupted from Mahito's mouth. His body spasmed. His form, it almost began to curl into something spherical. Kenjaku's domain of influence teasing his very essence.

"Let's not be reckless, shall we?" Kenjaku whispered with that ever-serene smile.

Mahito turned his head slowly, pain written all over his face.

"I believe we had an agreement," Kenjaku said.

"Tch..." Mahito clicked his tongue.

Suddenly, the air thickened. Heat pressed down like a suffocating blanket. Mahito glanced around, sensing it.

Three figures appeared.

Jogo's familiar grumble filled the air. "Another brat?"

Hanami, stoic as ever, stood on a nearby pipe beside him. Dagon loomed quietly behind them.

"6$;#7;2(:7!*!+" Hanami muttered cryptically.

"Shut up, nobody understands what you're saying!" Jogo barked, clearly annoyed.

Kenjaku exhaled, as if tired of playing babysitter.

Mahito tilted his head, observing them with childlike fascination. Then, his grin widened as he pointed to Jogo.

"This one seems fun. Especially Mount Fuji over there."

Jogo's brow twitched.

"Calm down, Jogo," Kenjaku interjected. "Where's Zankei?"

Jogo scoffed. "He was behind us earlier. Probably sulking about losing to Gojo Satoru again."

SLICE!

Jogo's head dropped with a soft thud, his cyclopean eye half-lidded, used to this treatment.

A voice echoed through the sewer, cold and commanding.

"Watch how you speak about me."

THUD!

Zankei landed with a resonating crash. Mahito stared at him, eyes narrowing with interest.

His soul... robust. Unyielding. Fascinating...

Mahito's fingers twitched unconsciously. He wanted to touch it. Tamper with it.

Zankei glared. "What are you staring at?"

Mahito hesitated. His throat dried up. Then he smirked. "Nothing... nothing at all."

"Turn your head elsewhere," Zankei warned. "Or I'll do it for you."

"And if I don't?" Mahito challenged.

Kenjaku sighed preemptively.

Hanami, meanwhile, picked up Jogo's head, reattaching it like second nature.

SLICE!

Mahito's head tilted sharply. He blinked... and saw the others from a low, odd angle.

His body still stood. His head rolled on the floor. Blood floated mid-air, paused unnaturally.

Zankei lowered his hand, sealing the arteries with precision. Kenjaku bent down and poked Mahito's head.

"...Still alive. Just in shock," he muttered.

Jogo, still reattaching his head, was about to complain until he noticed the floating blood and stopped, unsettled.

Kenjaku broke the silence.

"We should move. The longer we delay, the more the scales tip against us."

Zankei turned, voice cutting. "You spoke of the King of Curses. Just another bluff?"

Kenjaku smiled. "Not at all. I'm closer than you think."

Zankei narrowed his eyes. "Let me say this, then, you'll be disappointed. Sukuna will never join your cause. He'd laugh in your face. Doesn't matter to me, but you should know."

Kenjaku nodded. "I have my ways. In fact, I'm about fifty percent sure."

"A shaky number," Zankei scoffed.

"Still worth it," Kenjaku said. "Especially if we wish to revive the golden age of jujutsu."

"Our goals might align... but your path doesn't matter to me," Zankei replied. "I'm more interested in spilling Gojo Satoru's guts, and if fate allows, Sukuna's too."

"Ha! Big talk from the guy who lost to Gojo in a sparring match!" Jogo cackled.

Zankei ignored him.

"My binding vow was foolish. A reflection of my arrogance and lack of faith in this era. Gojo proved me wrong. But I won't sit in regret. I'll return to full power—and then some."

"Bark bark bark! No bite!" Jogo laughed, until his head hit the floor again.

"Hanami..."

Kenjaku chuckled softly at Zankei's confidence. Unrealistic? Perhaps. But as an ancient sorcerer from the Heian era, Zankei's knowledge of jujutsu may rival even Sukuna's.

And thus, the stage was set.

A collision was inevitable.