Steam rose in lazy coils from the natural hot spring nestled within dense forest, mineral-rich waters creating a microclimate of perpetual mist among ancient trees. The isolated location—miles from the nearest human settlement and protected by subtle barrier techniques—made it ideal sanctuary for entities that preferred avoiding human detection.

Jogo reclined against smooth volcanic stones at the spring's edge, his volcanic body temperature creating additional steam where skin contacted water. The elemental curse appeared unusually relaxed, features arranged in something approaching contentment as he smoked a traditional pipe. Blue-tinged smoke curled from his lips, the substance within the pipe not tobacco but something more exotic—crystallized cursed energy harvested from particularly potent locations.

This rare moment of tranquility represented necessary recovery rather than idle leisure—Jogo's form having required substantial regeneration after your encounter weeks earlier. The volcanic curse had spent considerable energy reconstructing the physical vessel that contained his consciousness, a process requiring both time and specific environmental conditions.

His peaceful respite shattered as familiar presences registered at the edge of his awareness. Through the perpetual mist surrounding the springs emerged two figures—one moving with fluid grace despite obvious injuries, the other maintaining the composed elegance that characterized his public persona regardless of circumstance.

"Jogo!" Mahito called with childlike enthusiasm entirely incongruous with his nature as embodiment of humanity's transfiguration anxieties. Without ceremony or apparent concern for social convention, the curse immediately disrobed, casting aside tattered clothing that revealed extensive damage to his physical form beneath.

The curse's usually fluid body showed unusual rigidity in certain sections—evidence of sophisticated constraint techniques that had temporarily altered his fundamental structure. Black fluid had dried in patterns across his torso and limbs, the equivalent of scabbed wounds in a being that typically healed through instantaneous transformation rather than gradual process.

With characteristic disregard for dignity or restraint, Mahito launched himself into the steaming water, the impact creating splash patterns that Jogo observed with mild irritation. "I'm so glad your body grew back!" Mahito exclaimed, genuine pleasure evident in his expression despite his own obvious injuries.

Geto remained standing at the spring's edge, his white coat immaculate despite traveling through forest terrain. His aristocratic features revealed nothing of his thoughts as he observed the cursed spirits' interaction with the detached interest of a scientist monitoring experimental subjects rather than a colleague joining companions.

Jogo's eyes narrowed as he properly assessed Mahito's condition, professional concern momentarily overriding personal annoyance at his peaceful recovery being disturbed. "You look terrible," he observed bluntly, volcanic features arranging themselves into something approximating concern. "What happened?"

Mahito sank deeper into the mineral-rich water, his expression cycling through theatrical representations of human emotions before settling on rueful amusement. "Things didn't go well between me and Sukuna's vessel," he admitted, referring to Yuji with characteristic dismissal of human identity.

The cursed spirit's explanation carried deliberate misdirection—attributing his condition primarily to confrontation with Yuji rather than your intervention. This subtle deception revealed fascinating aspects of supernatural politics—Mahito attempting to maintain certain hierarchical appearances even among supposed allies.

"ALSO," he added with sudden enthusiasm that contradicted his injured state, "our queen gave me a real beatdown." The declaration emerged with disturbing pride rather than resentment—as if physical domination by a superior entity represented accomplishment rather than defeat.

Geto, who had maintained silent observation, finally turned his full attention to Mahito. "Again, why do you keep running into her?" he questioned, his cultured voice carrying subtle edge beneath its measured calm. The inquiry contained layers—professional assessment of tactical coincidence alongside personal investment barely concealed beneath strategic concern.

Mahito laughed with genuine amusement despite his injuries, the sound echoing strangely across the steaming water. He repositioned himself to recline against smooth stones, adopting pose of leisurely relaxation that contradicted his physical condition. "How would I know? You're the one who's stalking her, Geto, not me," he countered with childlike directness that contained adult cunning.

The accusation created momentary tension within the unlikely alliance—cursed spirits and human sorcerer finding common cause despite fundamental differences in nature and objective. Jogo observed this exchange with analytical attention, volcanic features revealing little of his assessment while steam continued rising around the gathering.

This improbable triumvirate represented significant threat precisely because of their complementary capabilities—Geto's strategic brilliance and technical knowledge, Mahito's fundamental understanding of human vulnerability, and Jogo's raw destructive power. Their continued cooperation despite obvious philosophical differences and personal agendas made them far more dangerous than their individual abilities would suggest.

The hot spring's natural beauty created unsettling backdrop for this gathering of entities dedicated to humanity's subjugation or destruction. Steam continued rising through dappled sunlight filtering through ancient trees, creating ephemeral beauty that contrasted sharply with the dark purposes being discussed within its mist.

Geto sighed—the sound carrying exaggerated patience intended to mask genuine irritation—and rubbed the bridge of his nose with elegantly manicured fingers. The gesture revealed rare glimpse of the human mannerisms that occasionally surfaced beneath his cultivated supernatural persona, remnants of the jujutsu sorcerer he had once been.

"For the last time," he stated with measured precision that betrayed the importance of this distinction to his self-perception, "I'm not stalking her. Merely observing." The correction emerged with the particular emphasis of someone convinced that terminology alone could transform the fundamental nature of an action—semantic defense against uncomfortable truth.

The two curses exchanged glances that transcended their usual adversarial relationship, momentary alignment created by shared amusement at their human ally's transparent self-deception. Mahito's fluid features arranged themselves into exaggerated skepticism while Jogo's volcanic eyes narrowed with uncharacteristic humor.

"Yeah, sure," Jogo responded, the casual dismissal carrying particular weight from an entity typically devoted to hierarchical formality. Steam curled around his angular features as he took another draw from his pipe, the blue smoke creating momentary patterns that resembled your silhouette before dissipating into the humid air.

Geto's composed features tightened almost imperceptibly, the microexpression revealing genuine emotional response beneath practiced control. His eyes—windows to a brilliance that had once embodied jujutsu society's brightest hope—narrowed with cold warning that would have terrified ordinary humans or lesser curses.

"Shut it," he commanded, voice carrying none of its usual cultured modulation but instead the raw edge of genuine irritation. The brief display of unfiltered emotion created fascinating disruption to his carefully maintained aristocratic persona—evidence that your mere mention could penetrate defenses constructed through years of meticulous self-discipline.

Mahito's grin widened to unnatural proportions at this reaction, his malleable features stretching beyond human anatomical possibilities in expression of genuine delight. The curse found particular satisfaction in identifying emotional vulnerability in others—especially beings who prided themselves on transcending such weaknesses.

"You should see your face right now," Mahito observed with childlike glee that masked calculating assessment. "Just mentioning her name makes your heartbeat change rhythm. I can hear it from here."

The observation carried unsettling accuracy—evidence of Mahito's enhanced perception regarding biological responses despite his outwardly chaotic nature. The curse's fundamental connection to human transfiguration granted particular insight into physiological tells that betrayed emotional states regardless of external composure.

Jogo observed this exchange with increasing interest, his initial annoyance at interrupted recovery giving way to strategic analysis. The volcanic curse's perspective—fundamentally oriented toward hierarchical power structures—found Geto's apparent obsession both fascinating and potentially concerning for their collective objectives.

"Your interest in her transcends strategic value," Jogo stated, volcanic features arranging themselves into something approximating thoughtful assessment. "This presents operational vulnerabilities we should address."

The observation shifted the exchange from personal needling to tactical consideration—territory where Geto could respond from intellectual rather than emotional foundation. This reframing offered escape from the uncomfortable exposure Mahito's teasing had created, allowing retreat to strategic discourse rather than personal motivation.

Steam continued rising around the unlikely triumvirate, mineral-rich water bubbling from underground sources heated by the same primordial forces that had shaped Jogo's existence. The natural hot spring represented perfect metaphor for the tension simmering beneath surface interactions—powerful currents of ambition, obsession, and supernatural forces temporarily contained but inevitably seeking release.

The forest surrounding their sanctuary remained unnaturally silent, local wildlife having instinctively abandoned the area upon sensing the concentration of predatory entities within. This absence of ordinary natural sounds created acoustic void filled only by the gentle bubbling of heated water and the occasional shift of bodies within the spring—auditory isolation that emphasized the separation of this gathering from ordinary existence.

Geto's normally cultivated voice emerged as a low growl, the sound carrying primal possessiveness that contradicted his usual aristocratic affect. "We are not going to harm Y/N at all," he declared, the statement emerging not as tactical directive but as absolute boundary—non-negotiable parameter around which all other strategies must conform.

The intensity of his declaration created momentary stillness across the hot spring, steam swirling undisturbed as both curses processed the emotional undercurrent beneath tactical assertion. The protective quality in Geto's tone revealed complex layers in his obsession—desire for possession tempered by genuine concern for your wellbeing, instrumental value balanced against something approaching reverence.

Mahito shook his head with theatrical earnestness, water droplets flying from his fluid form to create momentary patterns in the surrounding steam. "No, of course not," he responded with surprising sincerity. "I wouldn't dream of that."

The cursed spirit's declaration carried unusual honesty—rare authentic communication from an entity typically defined by manipulation and deception. This genuine respect represented not moral evolution but pragmatic recognition of hierarchical reality—your demonstrated abilities having established position worthy of acknowledgment even from humanity's natural enemies.

"Just," Mahito continued, his malleable features arranging themselves into something approximating constructive suggestion, "we can have you meet her instead of me or Jogo." The proposal carried strategic sense alongside subtle manipulation—positioning Geto as suitable intermediary while implicitly acknowledging previous tactical failures.

Mahito's expression shifted to rueful amusement as he referenced his recent encounter. "She already beat my ass," he admitted without apparent resentment, the casual vulgarity contrasting with the genuine respect underlying his assessment. His usual performative persona temporarily gave way to pragmatic acknowledgment of power differentials—rare display of adaptive intelligence from an entity typically driven by chaotic impulses.

The transfiguration curse turned toward Jogo, mischievous intent returning to his features as he prepared to reference the volcanic spirit's previous defeat. "And Jogo, well..." he began, chuckling with anticipated delight at his companion's discomfort.

"Don't mention that," Jogo hissed immediately, volcanic features emanating intensified heat that created momentary temperature spike in the surrounding water. The elemental curse's reaction revealed lingering psychological impact from your encounter—tactical defeat compounded by existential implications regarding supernatural hierarchies.

Steam billowed more intensely around Jogo's form as his emotional state affected his physical manifestation—molecular excitation corresponding directly to psychological agitation. This involuntary response betrayed vulnerability that contradicted his carefully maintained image of elemental implacability.

The exchange revealed fascinating dynamics within this unlikely alliance—each member harboring distinct psychological responses to your existence while collectively adjusting strategies to accommodate this unforeseen variable in their plans. Their ability to adapt despite these complications made them particularly dangerous—pragmatism overriding ego in service of shared objectives despite individual agendas.

Sunlight filtering through forest canopy caught the rising steam in ways that created momentary rainbow effects—ephemeral beauty contrasting with the dark purposes discussed within its shifting patterns. This juxtaposition of natural splendor and malevolent planning created dissonant harmony characteristic of cursed existence—corruption and beauty inextricably intertwined.

Beneath the surface conversation lay deeper currents of supernatural politics—fundamental questions about cosmic hierarchies that transcended jujutsu society's understanding. Your existence represented disruption to established categories, forcing realignment of assumptions that had governed relationships between humans, curses, and other entities operating in dimensions adjacent to conventional reality.

The hot spring continued bubbling with primordial energy, mineral-rich waters carrying trace elements from Earth's core to its surface—physical manifestation of connections between superficial existence and deeper realities typically hidden from perception. This natural phenomenon provided perfect backdrop for entities discussing similar dynamics in supernatural hierarchies—visible manifestations of powers with ancient, hidden origins.

Mahito, recognizing the confusion his linguistic shift had created, returned to Japanese with a theatrical sigh. "All I'm saying," he clarified, lazily trailing his malleable fingers through the mineral-rich water, "is that it seems strange you claim she's so important to our plans, yet Jogo and I are the ones who keep facing her directly."

The cursed spirit's features arranged themselves into exaggerated thoughtfulness as he continued his provocation. "If she trusts you most, as you've suggested, wouldn't our objectives be better served by you making contact instead of sending us to be beaten?" The question carried deceptive simplicity, its surface logic masking deeper manipulative intent.

Geto's aristocratic features hardened almost imperceptibly, the subtle tightening around his eyes betraying emotional response despite his controlled exterior. "Trust and tactical deployment are separate considerations," he replied, his cultured voice carrying measured precision that suggested each word had been carefully selected. "My position requires strategic oversight rather than direct engagement at this stage."

Jogo, initially annoyed by the linguistic confusion, found himself drawn into genuine strategic consideration as the exchange continued in comprehensible terms. "The transfiguration curse makes a valid point," he observed, volcanic features shifting to something approaching analytical interest. "Your personal history with Y/N remains our most promising avenue of influence. Why not leverage it directly?"

The volcanic curse's unexpected alignment with Mahito created momentary tactical realignment within their unstable alliance—two supernatural entities finding common cause in questioning their human leader's tactical decisions. This development represented potential fracture point in their collaborative efforts, precisely the kind of internal discord that could undermine otherwise formidable combined capabilities.

Geto recognized the dangerous shift in dynamics, his brilliant mind rapidly calculating responses that would maintain hierarchical control while addressing legitimate strategic concerns. "Our next phase will involve more direct approach," he conceded, the admission carrying carefully calibrated authority rather than defensive justification. "Previous encounters have provided necessary intelligence about her current capabilities and allegiances."

This reframing—positioning previous failures as deliberate information gathering rather than tactical defeats—represented masterful manipulation of perception. The subtle implication that Mahito and Jogo's painful encounters with you had served larger strategic purpose offered retrospective dignity to their defeats while reinforcing Geto's position as master tactician.

Mahito's expression revealed skepticism not entirely masked by his usual playful demeanor. "So we were just information gathering?" he questioned, his tone carrying just enough innocent inquiry to avoid direct insubordination while clearly communicating disbelief. "Good to know my transfigured spine was part of the grand strategy."

Steam continued rising around the unlikely triumvirate, creating visual representation of the tension simmering beneath surface interactions. The natural hot spring's bubbling waters provided constant ambient sound that filled silences between exchanges—nature's indifferent commentary on supernatural politics.

The forest surrounding their sanctuary remained unnaturally quiet, local wildlife having instinctively evacuated the area upon sensing concentrated predatory essence. This absence of ordinary natural sounds created acoustic void filled only by the gentle bubbling of heated water and the occasional shift of bodies within the spring—auditory isolation emphasizing the separation of this gathering from ordinary existence.

Sunlight filtering through forest canopy created dappled patterns across the water's surface, intermittent brightness contrasting with the darkness of purposes being discussed. This juxtaposition of natural beauty and malevolent planning characterized the dissonant harmony of cursed existence—corruption and splendor inextricably intertwined.

Geto released a measured sigh that carried notes of both exasperation and calculation—the sound of a brilliant strategist recognizing necessary tactical adjustment rather than true surrender to his companions' pressure. Steam momentarily parted around his aristocratic features as he exhaled, creating fleeting window of clarity amid the perpetual mist enshrouding their clandestine gathering.

"Alright, listen here," he began, his cultured voice adopting the particular cadence he reserved for definitive declarations rather than theoretical discussions. His posture straightened imperceptibly, shoulders squaring beneath his immaculate white coat with subtle authority that reminded his companions of the formidable power contained within his seemingly human form.

"When we proceed to Jujutsu High in a few days," he continued, each word precisely enunciated as if formalizing verbal contract, "I will be the one who seeks her out. Okay?" The final syllable carried interrogative tone that belied its actual function as declarative conclusion—linguistic habit from his teaching days rather than genuine request for approval.

This concession represented significant strategic realignment—acknowledgment that direct personal engagement had become necessary despite previous insistence on operational distance. The commitment contained layers of implication beyond its surface meaning, suggesting both confidence in his ability to approach you without triggering immediate hostile response and acknowledgment that his previous strategic framework required adjustment.

Sunlight filtering through the forest canopy illuminated Geto's features from above, casting dramatic shadows that emphasized the subtle transformation occurring as he made this declaration. Something shifted behind his eyes—the calculated strategist momentarily yielding to deeper motivations typically kept carefully restrained beneath tactical considerations.

Water rippled outward from his position at the spring's edge, concentric circles expanding to touch both his cursed companions—physical manifestation of how this decision would necessarily impact their collective operations. The mineral-rich liquid carried microscopic particles of crystallized cursed energy that momentarily aligned in geometric patterns reflecting supernatural significance of this tactical pivot.

Jogo's volcanic features registered approval through subtle relaxation of perpetually furrowed brow, the elemental curse recognizing pragmatic value in Geto taking personal risk after previous deployment of subordinates. Steam surrounding his mountainous form momentarily thinned—physical reflection of emotional satisfaction at leadership accountability being established.

Mahito's reaction proved more complex—his malleable features cycling through rapid succession of expressions that suggested multiple simultaneous assessments. Satisfaction at successful manipulation mingled with genuine curiosity about potential outcomes, while beneath both emotions ran calculating analysis of how this development might serve his individual objectives beyond their collective agenda.

The forest surrounding their sanctuary responded to this tactical shift with subtle environmental changes—birds momentarily resuming calls in distant trees before falling silent again, wind briefly stirring branches before returning to unnatural stillness. These momentary returns to natural patterns suggested ripple effects extending beyond their immediate circle—cosmic acknowledgment of significant decision point in supernatural politics.

The hot spring's bubbling increased slightly in tempo, underground forces responding to altered energy patterns among the three powerful entities conducting their strategy session at its edges. Primordial connections between elemental manifestations and conscious intentions created feedback loops that transcended ordinary cause-effect relationships, natural phenomena reflecting and influencing supernatural decisions through complex harmonics.

This commitment from Geto represented not merely tactical adjustment but potential turning point in their collective approach to integrating you into their larger objectives—shifting from attempted coercion through proxies to direct engagement by their most sophisticated operative. The implications extended beyond immediate plans to fundamental questions about authority, persuasion, and the complex interplay between power and connection in supernatural hierarchies.

The other cursed spirits nodded in acknowledgment of Geto's commitment, their synchronized movement creating momentary ripples across the mineral-rich water. This rare display of unified response highlighted the significance of the tactical adjustment—both supernatural entities recognizing potential value in direct leadership engagement despite their usual competitive dynamics.

Geto smiled—a carefully composed expression that revealed precisely calculated warmth without exposing genuine emotion beneath. The expression carried practiced charm that had served him well in past manipulations of both humans and cursed spirits. "Good. Now I have to go," he announced, his tone shifting to casual dismissal that strategically diminished the importance of his previous concession. "You know how impatient the girls get."

The reference to his collection of cursed spirits—entities extracted from humans and preserved through his specialized technique—served multiple purposes in this context. It reminded his companions of his considerable power while simultaneously providing plausible reason for departure that maintained his authoritative image. The casual mention of these captured entities as "girls" revealed the particular blend of affection and objectification that characterized Geto's relationship with powers under his control.

Without waiting for response or formal farewell, he turned and headed toward the forested area beyond the springs, his white coat remaining inexplicably immaculate despite proximity to mineral water and mud. His departure carried practiced elegance—each step precisely placed to create impression of casual confidence while actually following optimal path through potentially treacherous terrain.

As Geto's figure disappeared among ancient trees, the remaining cursed spirits exchanged a significant look that contained volumes of unspoken assessment. Their momentary alignment—transfiguration curse and disaster curse finding common ground—created rare instance of genuine communication rather than tactical cooperation.

"He's so obviously in love with her," Mahito observed, his malleable features arranging themselves into expression of theatrical insight. The observation emerged without his usual mocking tone, instead carrying notes of genuine fascination at witnessing something unexpected in their human leader.

The statement named explicitly what had remained implicit throughout their strategy session—Geto's interest in you transcending tactical advantage to encompass something approaching human emotional attachment. This recognition represented significant intelligence for beings whose existence depended on understanding and exploiting human vulnerabilities.

Jogo narrowed his volcanic eyes, brow furrowing to create deeper crevices across his mountainous features. "You're too, idiot," he responded, his gruff assessment lacking Mahito's playful delivery but carrying similar recognition of fundamental truth.

This blunt reciprocal observation created momentary stillness between the curses—mutual acknowledgment of shared vulnerability despite their non-human origins. Though neither entity would describe their interest in human emotional terms like "love," both recognized attraction patterns that transcended mere strategic consideration.

Steam continued rising around their partially submerged forms, creating visual metaphor for thoughts and motivations that remained partially concealed even between supposed allies. The hot spring bubbled with primordial energy that predated human consciousness, mineral-rich waters carrying elemental connections that mirrored the ancient forces embodied in the cursed spirits themselves.

Sunlight filtering through forest canopy created shifting patterns across the water's surface, intermittent brightness punctuating shadows in ways that emphasized the duality of their existence—entities born from human negativity yet evolving beyond their origins into something more complex and independent.

Birds remained silent in surrounding trees, their instinctive avoidance creating unnatural acoustic void that emphasized separation between ordinary natural processes and the supernatural entities conducting their assessment in isolation. This absence of normal forest sounds highlighted the fundamental otherness of the cursed spirits—beings whose existence operated adjacent to conventional reality rather than within it.

The acknowledgment of shared fascination with you created subtle shift in dynamics between Mahito and Jogo—temporary alignment through recognition of common experience rather than merely shared objective. This momentary connection revealed complexity beneath their typically adversarial relationship, suggesting potential for understanding that transcended their fundamental differences in nature and temperament.

As afternoon progressed toward evening, shadows lengthened across the hot spring, creating gradually shifting patterns that mirrored the evolving supernatural politics taking shape within its steaming waters. The natural phenomenon had temporarily hosted conference of entities dedicated to humanity's subjugation, yet continued its indifferent bubbling—primordial energy operating according to rhythms that would continue long after current conflicts resolved in whatever form they might eventually take.