Jujutsu Kaisen: False Dawn

Day 1

Ren sat alone in his apartment, the dim light of a single bulb casting a shaky halo over the cluttered room. Outside, the world buzzed—trains rumbled, dogs barked, and lives moved. But inside, the world was still. Focused. Obsessed.

He rolled up his sleeve and stared at his hand. His fingers. The idea he'd fallen asleep with last night was now all he could think about.

"What if I can use Red Stitch inside my body?"

It was insane. Dangerous. Stupid, even. But he had nothing to lose.

Ren slowly gathered cursed energy into his palm. His breath slowed, and his heart thumped in sync with the rising pressure in his hand. He visualized the red threads forming—not outside, but within. Just under the surface of his skin.

And to his surprise...

It worked.

A small red thread shimmered faintly inside his index finger, running along the bone like a wire. No backlash. No pain. Just... warmth.

He grinned.

"It only breaks when I touch it from the outside," he muttered. "It's like... like trying to grab a wire that's live. The string gets confused when more than one output is touching it. But if I run it internally... then it's like I'm the battery and the wire at the same time."

It made sense, weirdly. Red Stitch wasn't smart. It followed logic—his cursed energy and intent. And for the first time, he was beginning to understand the cursed technique not just as a tool, but as a part of his body.

He stared at the red glow under his skin. It pulsed faintly. Like a heartbeat.

"This... this is possible."

And he laughed.

Not out of joy. Not out of victory. But from obsession. Desperation. The kind of laugh you hear from someone who has nothing to lose and just found a knife in a dark alley.

Day 2-4

The next morning began without sunlight. Ren hadn't slept. The world outside was slowly getting warmer with spring, but his apartment was cold. Cold and full of silence.

He laid down on his futon, arms crossed, eyes closed, and focused on everything.

He visualized his body like a blueprint. Veins of cursed energy. Pathways. Nodes. His spine. His fingers. His joints. Then he tried to connect the thread.

Flick.

Red Stitch snapped apart inside his wrist.

Flick.

It fizzled into nothing inside his elbow.

Flick.

It just wouldn't hold.

It was like trying to sew a wound shut while blindfolded with trembling hands. He had to create a path inside his body, using Red Stitch, without letting it rupture or overheat. One bad connection and the cursed energy flow would snap. It was delicate, surgical. Not like punching a tree or firing a thread.

And worst of all—he couldn't see any of it.

Only feel.

Every failed attempt burned. Not with fire, but with frustration. His cursed energy would swirl into a part of his muscle, spark, fizzle, and vanish.

His hands shook. His head pounded.

And he kept going.

He tried to focus the cursed energy in his shoulder. Then from the shoulder to his spine. Then from the spine to his stomach.

Day 2 turned to 3.

He collapsed. Slept for an hour. Ate crackers. Drank water. Repeated.

He was down to one shirt, two bowls, and a single can of miso.

Day 3 turned to 4.

Finally.

It clicked.

A connection formed. Weak. Fragile. But real.

A thin, vibrating line of red cursed energy laced itself from his shoulder to his spine, down to his stomach. It didn't buzz with raw power. It wasn't flashy.

But when Ren activated his cursed energy—

His entire arm lit up.

He coated his fist.

One second. Two. Five. Ten. Thirty.

Still stable.

He pushed harder.

A minute. Two. Three.

No sputter. No backlash.

His jaw dropped.

He ran to the mirror in the hallway. His reflection stared back, a gaunt teenager with bloodshot eyes, stringy hair, and red veins flickering faintly under the skin of his arms.

He threw a punch toward the air.

The cursed energy didn't shatter.

He threw another. A harder one.

Still stable.

Then he sat down and did the math.

"Before, I could hold cursed energy around my fist for thirty seconds, tops. Now...?"

He ran a stopwatch.

Ten minutes.

Ten full minutes of cursed energy surrounding his fist, without flux or failure.

His eyes widened.

"That's... That's a 1900% improvement."

He said it aloud, then laughed.

A full, loud laugh. One that echoed through the empty room.

He couldn't believe it. He had broken through.

And this wasn't even a perfect circuit. This was the prototype. The needle was only half-threaded.

He looked at his hand. The faint glow of red energy flickered between his knuckles like static.

"...I can do this."

He whispered it.

He believed it.

After weeks of trial, failure, and pain, he'd created something.

Something no one in Jujutsu society had done.

Red Stitch wasn't just a technique anymore. It was becoming an engine.

And for the first time in a month ever since Ren had come here...

Ren wasn't afraid.