Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

October 10th, 2010. 6:45 PM

Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College

Ieiri Shoko shivered in the frigid morgue, scalpel hovering just over the front shoulder of the latest cadaver to grace her gurney. It was hardly the cold that bothered her nowadays, though. Nothing seemed to faze her anymore.

“You’re early,” she said in greeting before resuming the Y-incision on the corpse. Grade 4 Sorcerer Ikeda Hatsu no longer had the ability to flinch at the cool steel cutting deep into his torso.

The buzzing energy in the room returned to normal as Gojo Satoru walked into existence. “Yo, Shoko!” he boisterously called to her in return. “I gotcha somethin’!”

Shoko only had enough time to roll her eyes, put down her scalpel, and turn before “Think fast!” and a paper bag were hurled at her. She deftly caught the heavy package and flicked the flap back with a still-clean finger. Her eyebrows lifted at the treats inside.

“You bought me uiro?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” His pointer fingers wagged back and forth in some excited, celebratory jig, and the large grin on his face never wavered.

Shoko sighed through her nose and set the sweets off to the side before resuming her autopsy. Peeling back the skin on Hatsu’s abdomen, she revealed the internal damage within. “Why did you bring me uiro?” Aren’t we already going to dinner tonight? she didn’t bother adding. The less questions asked of Satoru, the less chance of him ignoring said questions.

Satoru was already on his phone, thumb fast at work messaging someone. She knew this, without even looking up, because he never disabled that annoying little chime that went off with each button he pressed.

“The new sweet potato flavor apparently has rave reviews on Gururnai—”

“Satoru.”

The chiming stopped, and Shoko glanced to the side to watch him look up to the ceiling as if he was really trying to think up an answer, humming obnoxiously all the while. He’d recently started using white bandages to cover his eyes, and he’d raided her medical cabinet to get them. The sunglasses just hadn’t been enough.

It was better this way, she sometimes thought. His eyes never looked at her the same way after … everything. She’d seen him truly vulnerable only a handful of times, and it disturbed her more than his all-seeing abilities ever could.

When he got distracted by his phone again, Shoko snorted. “I take it you’re standing me up and thought some rave-reviewed sweets would suffice instead.”

“You make it sound like it was a date. Shoko, I had no idea you thought of me like—”

“Gross.”

“Mean,” he pouted. After a moment, as if realizing he should probably explain himself, he shrugged one shoulder. He was still typing away, only with two thumbs now. It must be serious. “Can’t be helped,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Got called away on a mission in Nagano.”

She hummed, reaching for her saw. “That’s not far.” Not for someone who could be there in two seconds.

“Special Grade,” was his reply. It caused Shoko to pause. Were Special Grades worthy of worrying about when Gojo Satoru was on the case? No. It was laughable, in fact, that someone like Satoru was even considered on the same level as other Special Grade curses. That wasn’t what gave Shoko pause. If the mission was for a Special Grade and was relatively close enough, that only meant that someone else was guaranteed to be on the scene.

Not to exorcise the curse. But to collect it.

With the possibility that Getou Suguru could end up on her gurney in the near future, Shoko set down her saw and turned before Satoru could warp away.

“Satoru—”

Digimon’s epic battle theme music blared out of the speakers of his phone, cutting off the words she still didn’t know she’d say.

“Gojo speaking!” he chirped happily into the receiver. His smile, the fake one that never reached his eyes (and she didn’t need the blindfold off to know that it hadn’t), dropped abruptly. It could have been the Higher-Ups giving him hell. It could have been Ijichi relaying information about the upcoming mission. It could have been anything really, but it left Shoko restless for some reason.

His voice was still smooth, but there was an edge to it only she and Yaga would have picked up on. “Who is this? … Why are you calling me?” A pause, then a huff. “Yes, yes, I’m sure they’re very well behaved! But! You must know, since you called me, that I’ve already got the Fushiguros to deal with.”

At the mention of Satoru’s wards, she lost all interest in the conversation. She sighed through her nose again, fogging up her goggles in the process, and picked up her saw. She needed to get to work on Hatsu’s ribs that were currently in the way. He was a gusher, this one, so she was really glad her hair was finally long enough to be pulled back in a bun.

“Wait, you’re here? Now?” Satoru asked incredulously. Only half-listening, Shoko was surprised when Satoru ended the call with an exasperated sigh.

“Shoko!” he barked, pointing at her in dramatic fashion. “Stop playing with that man’s heart and come with me!”

She gave him an unimpressed stare, droopy organ still in her hand. “These are his lungs, Satoru. You should at least know that much.”

“I know his looks a lot better than yours. Shame, really—but we don’t have time for that! Now strip down and let’s get a move on!”

If she hadn’t known him for as long as she had—scratch that, she was still thinking of slapping him for that one. If it wasn’t for his blasted Infinity and the fact he looked mildly worried (which was probably something that’d cause a normal person to freak out about), she’d have clobbered him. Nevertheless, she stripped off her gloves, tore off her mask, and pulled off her goggles, tossing them all on the equipment table by her side.

“Fill me in then,” she said with a sigh as they stalked off toward the entrance of the college campus. She looked down and frowned at the splattered blood on her white lab coat and wondered if she should take that off too, but the nights were about as chilly as the morgue in October, so whoever they were meeting up with had better not be squeamish.

Maybe they were badly injured and needed her help, but what would that have to do with the Fushiguros?

“Woman from the Zenin Clan called me, asking if I’d take in these twins. Thinks just ‘cause I take care of Megumi and Tsumiki that I run a daycare now.”

Shoko was neutral to all the political drama with the clans, but she knew the Zenins to be a nasty bunch. She also didn’t comment on how the Fushiguro kids probably took better care of themselves than Satoru could for himself.

What she did comment on was her involvement in all this. “And I’m coming with you, why?”

Satoru looked at his bare wrist and clucked his tongue. “We’re not gonna make it in time. Hang on tight.”

Her eyes widened. She knew what those words entailed. “No, Gojo, don’t you dare—”

Nothing seemed to faze Shoko anymore … except when it came to sifting through time and space where nothing and everything collided together in an abstract, liminal realm.

“Up and away we go!” he cheered, and Shoko could have—would have—killed him somehow, someway. They were gone in a blink, rematerializing at the bottom of the stairs shrouded in the shadows of the hundreds of repeating torii gates. The golden color of the ginkgo trees, highlighted only by the moon this late in the evening, blurred together as Shoko stumbled into reality.

The sound of tires screeching to a stop had her looking up, trying not to sway on the thin heels she’d stupidly decided to wear that day. Well, every day. Beauty was pain after all. It was probably why Gojo was the biggest pain in her ass to ever exist, but she’d never admit that in all her life. Objective beauty did not equal attraction.

Out of the black sedan’s driver seat was a frantic-looking woman with graying hair and wild eyes. She raced around the car and opened up the backseat passenger door, and out came two twin girls dressed in too many layers with backpacks as big as themselves, stuffed to the brim.

“I can’t thank you enough,” the woman gasped, bowing profusely in her stiff yukata even as she was nearly tripping over herself to straighten the girls’ appearances.

“Don’t thank me,” she heard Gojo reply airily. His large hand clapped down on her shoulder, jostling her. “Thank Shoko here.”

Wait. What?

“What?” she asked aloud, eyeing the man beside her and then the two girls who stared at her as if she were the most suspicious person in the universe.

His grin was all teeth. “Special Grade mission, remember?” Then he was gone. Just disappeared like the deadbeat dad gone to get the milk. She was left staring at the space where he’d once been, but cold hands grasped hers and yanked her attention back to the windswept woman in front of her.

“Thank you,” she expressed with teary eyes. “I now leave them in your care.”

She felt her jaw drop. “What?”

Nothing seemed to faze Shoko anymore … except when she went from overworked doctor to fulltime nanny in a single night—and it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.

Chapter Text

“Youko-chan,” Mai whimpered, tugging on the Zenin servant’s yukata. “I’m hot.”

Zenin Youko flinched at the contact. She ripped her yukata away and snapped, “Behave!” in a harsh whisper. There were eyes watching them still. She gave her best glare at the twins and managed to stay firm even when precious Mai recoiled from her and her little face crumpled. Maki, her sister, wisely said nothing, but she threaded their fingers together in silent comfort.

Youko turned before she could see the tears pooling in Mai’s eyes. If she did, she’d lose all her composure, and she’d gone through too much—they all had—to ruin the plan she’d spent so much time on.

She glanced over her shoulder at the other servants seeing her off. Just a little bit longer, and they’d be free. They would never have to go back. They would never be subjected to the abuse, the neglect, the horrible treatment ever again. They just had to remain strong a little longer.

Thinking back, she wondered if this was always meant to happen. If she had been born into this world purely to save these girls. If that’s all her life would ever amount to, then she couldn’t back out now. There weren't going to be any more chances if she messed this up. Not after what she’d heard.

Zenin Naobito, the clan head and the most ruthless man she had ever known despite his lax demeanor, had voiced extreme displeasure in the girls’ efforts to improve their cursed energy output. Maki was deemed utterly useless. Couldn’t even see the small curse swinging right in front of her, and Mai had been so scared she’d nearly fainted when the clan’s heir, Naoya, had cruelly tossed a harmless specimen at her.

They’d been sent immediately to a small, dilapidated shack at the back of the compound to repent for their failures. No candles, no futons, no blankets. Not even a dust rag to combat all the cobwebs. Just a drafty shed that had somehow withstood the test of time. She’d been sent there with them too, of course, because she was their keeper. But she hadn’t minded because, at least this way, the girls wouldn’t be alone.

Youko closed her eyes and exhaled quietly. All that fuss just because someone couldn’t see curses. As if they could help it. As if they’d asked to be born this way. But, nevertheless, that little shack had been a blessing in disguise. It had been a long walk to the kitchens, but it was one she was inevitably thankful for because it took her right past Naobito’s main quarters. She could still hear the whispers in her mind as clearly as she had that day, but it was the last one that had caused her to pause just outside the shoji doors.

“… useless, good-for-nothings …”

“Twins …”

“Activate … restriction …”

“… Toji—”

“Don’t speak of that name!”

“… experiment …”

She had nearly dropped the tray holding the girls’ meager rations: two onigiri—just enough so they wouldn’t starve—but hurriedly rushed off before she was caught and caned. Or worse.

She’d spent the rest of the night awake, scrunched up against a cold wall with both girls huddled in her lap for warmth. Rubbing their arms every so often for friction, she forced herself to stay up and go through every option, every possibility, every chance or streak of luck or miracle there could be. Only one name kept coming to her mind.

Gojo Satoru.

A demi-god if she’d ever known one. He was the twins' best bet at surviving this cruel world. He’d already taken in the other Zenin rejects—the Fushiguros, so …

What were two more?

Youko tried to take a deep breath as subtly as she could. The last thing she wanted to come off as was nervous, especially when she and the girls were only supposed to be going on a “pilgrimage.” It was all part of her plan, and it all rested on her. Her and Satoru, who still didn’t know she even existed, much less that she was about to spring this kind of surprise on him.

The specific pilgrimage they were supposed to be going on was the Shikoku Henro. She had begged, prostrated even, to allow the girls to go “so they would not bring anymore shame to the Zenin name.” It would take anywhere between thirty to sixty days if they walked—which was the only condition Naobito gave in allowing them to go. The girls were supposed to reflect on their lives during their journey and change for the better.

Naobito had always witnessed her stern, unforgiving nature toward the girls, so he had no reason to suspect her of trying to escape. She was merely a kenin—a house servant. What could she possibly do?

Their flight was called, and Youko felt her heart jump in her chest. She cleared her throat and looked down her nose at the twins. “Don’t fall behind.”

The girls shuffled after her, quiet as mice.

From Niigata to Kochi Ryoma Airport was nearly a three-hour flight plus the one-hour layover in Osaka. But they wouldn’t be boarding their next plane to Kochi. It was expensive, but she had already bought the tickets going from Osaka to Tokyo. It was an hour-and-a-half flight, and then after dropping the girls off she’d take another flight from Tokyo to Kochi to use the Zenin MasterCard at the hotel she’d booked just in case the clan wanted to track her. Her contingency plan, if there was some kind of hold-up, would be that there was a delay in Osaka for their layover.

She would wait until the end of the thirty days in Shikoku before calling in that the girls had escaped. Then, she would disappear too. To where, she still wasn’t sure. She had a month to figure it out, though.

Their seats were located in the middle of the plane so they wouldn’t be separated. Mai took the seat by the aisle, Youko sat in between them, and Maki was brave enough to sit next to a stranger. They both gripped the armrests until their knuckles were white, and Youko wouldn’t feel relaxed either until they were up off the ground.

“I’m scared,” Mai whispered. She was nibbling on her lip, and the skin around the area was already scarred from years of this habit. Youko thumbed her quivering lip, and Mai stopped.

“I know,” she whispered back. “We’ll be flying soon.”

Looking at the two of them, it was easy to think of Maki as the brave one. But it took true courage to admit when you were scared, especially after having grown up in a place where weakness could get you killed.

When the plane finally took off, she felt the first real tears gather in her eyes as relief swept through her. She felt a tug on her sleeve, and she wiped at her face before peering down at Maki’s big, brown eyes and wondered how anyone could confuse the twins for one another when they were so uniquely different.

“When do we have to go back?”

She never told them the plan, and she believed even now that it was for the best. She gathered the two of them as close to her as she could. Kissing their cheeks, their foreheads, the tops of their heads, she whispered over and over to them that everything would be okay.

She would make sure of it.

“Keep them hidden,” the woman, Zenin Youko, had pleaded. “They cannot go back. No matter what.”

Now, there were two ways Shoko could go about this. She could continue staring at the twins with her mouth open in shock, or she could walk away. The car was already gone, so there was no sending them back to wherever they came from.

She took in their sunken eyes and gaunt faces, badly cut hair, and ratty clothes and cursed that sentimental streak in her she thought only Utahime was capable of pulling out. As much as she didn’t want to be responsible for any of this, she could never be that cruel. It was like looking in a mirror of some distant, far away past she didn’t want to dredge up.

She coughed into her closed fist as the awkward silence stretched. “Um.”

Off to an excellent start already.

The girls didn’t respond, only huddling closer to one another and shivering. Right. It was chilly out. Or maybe they were scared? Probably both.

Time to figure out what to do. She had no experience with kids, but she knew the basics the human body needed in order to survive: shelter, food, water, sleep. Shelter was taken care of—for now anyway—and sleep would come later.

Right. Food and water. She had this in the bag.

“You, uh … you guys hungry? Thirsty?” Nailed it.

The one with the blunt bangs stared at Shoko like she was testing them. Eventually, she nodded, but jumped back when Shoko went to move. She repressed the sigh she wanted to let out. Kids always knew when they were unwanted. It was like a sixth sense. She’d seen it firsthand with the Fushiguros when she’d gone with Satoru for a visit. She knew it firsthand herself.

Hands in her coat pockets, she gripped the pack of cigarettes that were now half empty. She’d tried to stop smoking a while ago, but when things got stressful or when she was feeling particularly nostalgic, she’d light one up. Not like she’d do that now with two little sets of lungs around.

Damn. Speaking of lungs, she still had that cadaver to take care of. Then the cleanup and disinfecting process. Then all the documentation that went along with it had to be entered into the computer. Then she’d have to come up with a plan on just what the hell she was going to do with these kids. This was already shaping up to be a really long night.

Those uiro had better be worth it.

Chapter Text

The uiro had not been worth it.

That was the first thought Shoko had when she woke up the next morning. The sun coming in through her curtains and the persistent pressure of a full bladder from too much coffee the night before had roused her from the dead of sleep.

As much as she had wanted to multitask and leave the twins—Maki and Mai as she’d come to know them—in the cafeteria while she worked on the corpse on her gurney, she knew she wouldn’t know how to explain the situation on the off chance someone were to walk in and see them. At least if she was with them and heard someone coming, she could shove them into a cupboard or something. And as much as Shoko was fully capable of eating in a room with a cut-up corpse, she knew that wasn’t the case for everyone. The last thing she wanted to do was clean up a dead body and child puke.

So, she’d hurriedly made them soup, hid the empty cans under some trash already in the trash can, washed the dishes and put them up before whisking away the little runaways into her dorm room. It was quite a walk, but nothing compared to all the stairs they’d had to climb to even get to the campus.

She sat straight up in bed and drowsily turned her head enough to peer down at the pallet of blankets she’d made for the twins last night. They were already awake and staring at her.

She blinked.

“You smell funny,” the blunt-banged one said. Look, she knew their names, but not who was who.

She looked down at herself and sniffed. She did smell funny. The clothes from yesterday were thrown onto the end of her bed, her lab coat probably still in the morgue’s washing machine, and she’d fallen face-first into her mattress wearing her bra. She could also feel the mascara caked onto her lashes from the makeup she hadn’t washed off. All she’d wanted to do when she made it back to her dorm at nearly five in the morning was sleep.

Everything that had needed to be done for the next two days had been accomplished in a single night. Not only was it the distraction she needed, she could now afford to not come in unless there was some kind of emergency. A day off was something she was going to need if she was to find a place for these kids to stay.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she mumbled, throwing off the blankets and standing on her sore feet. She looked down at the twins still staring up at her, one with mistrust and the other with anxiousness. They were just as dirty as she was, but there was no way she was going to take them to the baths here.

As much as she was still pissed off at him, she fumbled around her sheets until she found her phone and called Gojo. He was speed dial number two with Uta being number one, and that seemed to perpetually offend him.

Serves you right, she thought bitterly. She heard his happy-go-lucky voice pick up on the other end and rolled her eyes.

“What do I do with these kids?” she asked, cutting off his good morning spiel.

“Eh? Don’t you have, like, motherly instincts to rely on?”

“That’s the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard you say,” she replied blandly.

“Nuh-uh. I’ve said loads worse before.”

She fell back onto the bed with a sigh. “You make me want to try my hand at women just so I can steal Uta away from you.”

His sputtering cough was immensely satisfying. Everyone knew of Gojo’s infatuated crush on Utahime, and sometimes, when she was feeling merciless, she’d rub it in his face that pulling Uta was something not even “the honored one” could do.

“Gojo,” she said, cutting off his lame excuses. “What am I gonna do?”

“Why you asking me?”

“You—” dumped them on me, she almost said before remembering that the “them” in question were in the room, clearly listening to everything she was saying. “You know I can’t keep them here. Not that I think Yaga would pitch too big a fit, but they’d get seen. Word would get back to the clan.”

“Who’s gonna tell?”

“What am I supposed to say then?”

“Look, just tell Yaga what’s up. No one’s gonna look at those kids and send ‘em back to the Zenins.”

She sighed again and scrubbed at her face, racking her brain for any possibility of that being untrue. She had one instantly. “Mei Mei would snitch if someone paid her off.”

“If they were adults, maybe, but she’d probably charge them so much the information wouldn’t even be worth it. If they’re weak, the Zenins won’t even notice they’re gone, and I’m guessing that’s the whole reason they ran away to begin with.”

Shoko snorted. Leave it to Gojo to say it like it is. “I hate you.”

“Aw! I love you t—” She cut the call, and her arm flopped back down beside her.

She felt a tug on her sheet, and she looked up to find the non-blunted banged one—Mai?—staring at her with the biggest, roundest puppy dog eyes she’d ever seen outside drunk Utahime wanting to sing another round of karaoke.

“I need to go pee,” she whispered.

No amount of sighing was going to make her feel prepared to take today on with only three hours of sleep, but she pushed herself up and threw on a robe anyway. “Same, kid. Let’s get you a bath too while we’re at it.”

For the first time, both twins’ eyes lit up. “Bath?”

The hopeful joy in their voices caused Shoko to pause. Not even Utahime on her best day could pull on her heartstrings like that. She found the corner of her lips turning up. “Yeah, I think a long, hot bath is just what the doctor ordered.”

The one she assumed to be Maki tilted her head and crossed her arms. “A doctor ordered us to take baths?”

Shoko leaned forward and cupped a hand near her mouth as if divulging a secret to them. “Yeah, and guess who the doctor in this school is?”

“Who?” maybe-Mai asked.

“Me.”

8:55 AM

Youko stared down at her empty wallet and sighed. She’d only used the Zenin MasterCard on the plane ride from Niigata to Kochi and then for the hotel when she arrived in Shikoku for the night. Yet, all her remaining savings had dwindled to nothing between the two other plane rides, the rental car in Tokyo, food for the girls, and, eventually, food for herself.

She didn’t know what she was going to do for the next month with no money, and she felt the overwhelming sense of hopelessness begin to crush her. How was she going to eat? Where was she going to stay? What was she going to do to earn money?

A part of her wanted to go back home. Make a big fuss about losing the twins and catch the next plane back—but what would that accomplish? They’d kill her, not because the twins were worth anything to them, but because she’d be deemed more useless than the two combined. Who needed a servant who couldn’t even watch a couple children?

And using the MasterCard when the three of them were supposed to be on a month-long pilgrimage was like asking to be tracked down and murdered in her sleep. She was better off cutting the plastic square up to resist the temptation when the hunger pains began kicking in.

A sob caught in her throat, but she cut it off. Lightly smacking her cheeks with her open palms, the sting brought her back to the real world. Everything was going to work out. She was going to be okay.

She had to go get a job, for starters. She had the skills. She had the drive. She would travel for a while, finding work wherever she could, until she found some city to disappear in for the rest of her life. She’d discard the name Zenin in the trash where it belonged. She would start over. A clean slate. A fresh start.

A knock startled her out of her musings. It was getting to be that time of day. Housekeeping was here to politely pressure her to get her stuff and go even though she had a few more hours until check-out. She sighed and rose from the bed. “Coming!”

She opened the door, an excuse on the tip of her tongue, but the sight of Zenin Naoya killed all the thoughts in her head.

His cat-like eyes gleamed. “Hello, Youko-chan,” he purred. “Care to tell me where Maki and Mai are?”

Chapter Text

If Shoko was a more modest woman, she probably would have felt a lot more uncomfortable being naked in the communal bathhouse for as long as she had. What was supposed to take maybe an hour had taken three.

First, the girls hadn’t known how to use the more modern toilets that Jujutsu Tech had graciously bestowed upon the faculty and students. Maki fell in and screamed, causing Shoko to have to go in and pull her out. Then Mai, who’d bore witness to the whole thing, nearly peed herself holding her bladder too long because she was too untrusting of toilet-san afterward. Only a hundred spoken promises, four pinky promises, and the proposal of a damn pact that Shoko would not allow her to fall in got Mai on the toilet.

Second, Shoko had underestimated just how dirty the twins were. A shower would normally take someone ten minutes if they weren’t goofing around or half-asleep (which was how Shoko ended up always taking thirty-minute showers each morning until the water ran cold, snapping her out of her dozing). But no. Surface dirt was one thing, but Maki and Mai had practically shed a whole layer of dead skin by the time Shoko was done scrubbing them clean. Their hair, too, was full of rats and knots despite it being so short. There was definitely going to be some clogged pipes by the time she was done. She’d also had to use almost an entire bottle of her expensive conditioner for their two little heads, and now the whole bathhouse smelled like pink lotus and honeysuckle.

“My hair is so smooth,” Mai marveled as she kept running her fingers through her wet hair and then doing the same to Maki’s.

Shoko gave her a thin-lipped smile and a hum of acknowledgement, but mentally she was tallying up how much she was going to bill Satoru when this was all over.

Thirdly, as excited as they’d seemed to be over the mention of the bath, they hadn’t immediately jumped in. Which, fair, considering their bodies were scrubbed pink and were probably tender. But they couldn’t just stand there naked all day.

“It’s too hot,” Maki complained.

Shoko leaned back against the wall and sighed as the heat from the monstrous tub embraced her. “It’s a bath,” she said around a yawn.

“Why do we have to take baths even though we’re clean?” Mai asked, but at least she was sitting on the edge of the bath now. It seemed the toilet incident and the hour-long shower had emboldened her just a little bit. At least she no longer looked at Shoko like she was going to slap her. Maki hadn’t seemed to be scared of her, but she still didn’t trust her either.

Why, indeed? she wondered, eyes still closed. “You don’t have to, but it’s nice.”

Maki was resolute, though. “It’s too hot.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” she tried.

“No, it’ll hurt.”

Screw it, she thought finally. Stand there naked. But then her eyes popped open as a thought entered her mind. Once, during their first year here, Satoru had flooded the men’s side with an avalanche of foam after he’d poured half a bottle of bubble soap into the bath. Yaga had yelled for nearly an hour, and Satoru was never allowed to do it again, but he’d never gotten rid of that bottle either.

Shoko didn’t know how good foaming bubbles were after sitting on a shelf for years, but surely it’d be fine? Only one way to find out. She clamored out of the bath, ignoring the girls’ confused queries, and wrapped a towel around herself. She hurried over to the men’s side—listening just in case someone was in there—and sneaked over to the side shelves. Right there, in obnoxious yellow with a cartoon duck on the peeling label, was the bubble bath soap. She returned quickly and immediately poured a small capful into the water.

“What are you doing?” Mai asked, pulling her legs out of the water as if Shoko had poured acid in instead.

Hopefully, this would work. “You’ll see.” She splashed around with her hand, but not a lot of foam was forming. Maybe these things really did go bad?

She discarded her towel and stepped in, kicking at the water and accidentally splashing Mai who squealed. Maki huffed and crossed her arms, looking all of forty at the tender age of eight, and shook her head. “You’re not supposed to splash in the bath.”

She poured a bit more in. “Says who?”

“It’s the rules.”

Okay, this wasn’t working. “Maybe in the Zenin Clan, but not here.” She turned the bottle upside down and emptied the whole contents. It was only then, on the back, that she saw the faded instructions.

Wait five minutes. Bubbles will gradually form. One capful is enough for a whole bath!

Oh. Oh no.

“What?” Zenin Naoya snapped into the receiver of his cell phone. His flight was leaving in ten minutes, and he’d already had a shit day. Considering it wasn’t even noon yet, he was reasonably pissed off.

“Status report,” his father demanded gruffly.

Naoya rolled his eyes and bit back a growl, but just barely. “They’re gone.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me!” He’d pulled the phone away from his ear just in time for that one.

“Can it, old man, I’ve got the Kukuru searching all over Shikoku. If they’re anywhere on this damn island, they’ll find them.”

“And the maid? What was her name again?”

“Youko. She was still at the hotel. What a dumbass. Like she didn’t think her plan would arouse suspicion. I knew it was weird when she asked to go on that trip, and that's why I said it wasn't a good idea! Now look what happened.”

“It would have been good for them! She was always strict with the girls—I saw no reason to suspect her! What did you end up doing with her?”

“She wouldn’t admit to anything. For all we know, those stupid kids aren’t even in Japan anymore.” His frown curdled into something nasty. “Put up a nice fight, though. She was a screamer. Almost got caught.”

“Disgusting,” his father spat. “Keep searching. We need them alive.”

The call for his flight went off, and Naoya sucked at his teeth. “Yeah, yeah.” He hung up and glared at his phone before pocketing it and rubbing his dry eyes. He’d had little to no sleep last night after his meeting took longer than expected. He’d need to get some shut eye on the plane if he was going to be up searching for two little brats all day.

The flight to Tokyo wasn’t long, after all.

Shoko sat on a throne of bubbles, dubbed the Bubble Queen by Mai, and was surrounded by a mountain of foam so tall it brushed the ceiling. It had already spilled over onto the floor, and—however much Maki seemed to be a stickler for the rules—she and Mai had actually giggled before running in and out of the wall of suds. They came dashing out wearing new bubble outfits and hairdos.

“Nice beard, Maki,” Shoko commented dryly from her spot in the bath.

The girl whirled around to look into the foggy mirrors, wiping away the condensation, and Shoko watched her eyes widen in the glass. Mai laughed and grabbed a huge clump of bubbles from the wall and shoved them onto her face. Her hands came away to unveil her new mustache and goatee. She stopped giggling immediately and looked down at her stomach before turning to Shoko.

“I’m hungry.”

Shoko sighed, though she wasn’t really surprised. It was nearly noon now, and the Bubble Queen was slowly turning into the Prune Princess.

“Okay, let’s go.”

She quickly helped them dress, but she was soon out of her element (not like this whole thing was, in any way, her element) and left the tying of the sashes on their yukatas to the girls. She had dug through their packs earlier to find the cleanest clothing she could, but the rest she vowed to throw away. Add a new wardrobe to Satoru’s growing tab. If the girls were going to go into hiding, they didn’t need to look like they belonged to an overly-traditional clan, Zenin or not.

She texted Satoru on the way to the cafeteria after she swung by her room to dump their dirty clothes and pick up her cell.

^{Does your hotel have a shopping mall? Sent 12:07PM}

^{Yeah why Received 12:07PM}

^{Girls need new clothes. You’re paying. Sent 12:15PM}

^{You sound like Mei Mei Received 12:15PM}

^{I’m going today. Sent 12:32PM}

^{Leave your card with the staff or something. Sent 12:32PM}

^{So demanding Received 12:33PM}

^{You also owe me a bottle of conditioner. Sent 12:45PM}

^{??????? Received 12:45PM}

^{Also also, I used the rest of your bubble bath. Sent 12:50PM}

^{If Yaga comes looking for me, you don’t know where I am. Sent 12:50PM}

^{Aye aye captain Received 12:50PM}

^{It’s Bubble Queen. Sent 12:53PM}

Shoko snapped her phone shut and looked over at the twins stuffing their faces with the rest of her leftover yaki udon and two bowls of rice. “We’re going to go shopping.”

Maki had the grace to swallow her food before speaking. “What’s that?”

“Shopping?”

She nodded her head, already shoving another spoonful of rice into her mouth. She’d made a face at the chopsticks and shoved them away from her. Mai had tried, bless her, but after the fourth time the clump of rice fell off the utensil just inches from her lips, Shoko had slid the spoon closer to her without comment.

“It means we’re going to buy stuff. You’re getting new clothes.”

Mai wiped the rice from her mouth with the sleeve of her clean yukata, and Shoko had to resist the urge to frown. “Why?”

She leaned her head on her fist and brought her coffee cup up to her lips. She hummed as she looked for an answer, sipping all the while. Did she go for the truth? Did she respond flippantly? Did she lie? She sighed. Maybe she should have called Utahime about all this before diving in.

“Do you always wear traditional clothing?”

Maki pushed her empty bowl away from her, but she glared at it like it had offended her. “Yeah.”

“Do you like wearing traditional clothing?”

She shrugged. Shoko glanced over to Mai, and she shrugged too. “I guess. Everybody in the clan wears these things.”

“What if you could pick out whatever you wanted?”

The girls’ eyes widened. She was starting to notice the subtle differences between Maki and Mai, but Maki’s blunt bangs really helped.

Mai opened her mouth, but she hesitated. She looked down at her—Shoko’s—udon and fidgeted with the chopsticks. “So … we get to pick what we want to wear?”

“Like, anything?” Maki pressed.

Not my money. “Mm-hmm.”

The twins’ eyes grew wide again, wider than before as they stared at her and then each other. Shoko knew the possibility of their eyeballs falling out was nil (not unless the optic nerve was damaged) but it was still funny to think about—in a morbid sort of way, of course.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The new, soft and feminine voice froze the light in the girls’ eyes, transforming it into fear as they spun around to take in the stranger that’d stepped onto the scene. Shoko sighed and lifted her cup in greeting.

“Mei Mei,” she acknowledged, her tone edging on relief. “Perfect timing. Want to go shopping?”

Two thin, silver eyebrows rose high on her forehead. Her hair had been pulled up into a sleek and voluminous side ponytail that rested high on her head. She loftily examined her perfect, blood-red nails and hummed in thought.

“Satoru’s paying.”

Mei Mei dropped her hand, and a large, ruby-red grin spread across her face. “Oh? Well then, what are we waiting for?”

“Great.” She finished off the rest of her coffee and placed it in the sink, not bothering to wash it even though she knew Kento would gripe about it later. “We’re going to Hotel New Gojo.”

Mei Mei hummed again, but her eyes kept dropping to the twins still staring at her like she was some kind of curse rather than the person tasked with exorcising said curse. “Any particular reason the bathhouse is currently flooded with foaming bubbles?”

The twins gasped and whirled on Shoko, essentially blowing their cover, but Shoko kept her face neutral and lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug.

“Who knows?” Then, before she seemed to realize what she was doing, she sent a wink to the girls. One that was obvious to Mei Mei, but she didn’t care. “Maybe it was the Bubble Queen curse come to flood the school grounds.”

Maki snorted—a very adult sound for such a little girl—and Mai cupped her hand over her lips to contain her sudden giggle.

And there it was again. That weird tug in her heart.

Damn. She was in way over her head with these girls.

Chapter Text

Hotel New Gojo was a 4-star luxury hotel in Chiyoda City—the same city that housed the emperor. In the sorcerer world, the Gojos were tantamount to the Imperial Family anyway, so it made sense. The hotel housed nearly fifteen hundred rooms and thirty-nine restaurants as well as an immaculate, 400-year-old, traditional Japanese garden. It had catered to prime ministers, kings, presidents, been the face of magazines, the set of major American films, and was still the top-rated suggestion on any booking site for hotel searches in Tokyo.

The Japanese government, already having established Jujutsu Headquarters—the ruling authority over all Jujutsu Sorcerers in Japan—had requested the Gojo family to construct the hotel for foreign visitors who would travel to the country for the 1964 Summer Olympics. The Gojo Clan, already influential and powerful and rich enough to build such a nice hotel in the first place, had turned around and made ¥1 billion within that same year of opening.

Shoko sometimes forgot just how rich Satoru was. Then she stepped inside Hotel New Gojo, was starkly reminded of such a fact, and immediately wished she had chosen literally anywhere else to go shopping. But they were already here, and Satoru was paying, so it didn’t matter how much she didn’t belong as long as she had that thick, shiny plastic to wave around.

That being said, even she felt a little self-conscious in a place like this. The guests here were lavishly dressed in their best suits and dresses with not a hair out of place. Shoko looked like the teen mom of two with her sugar mama taking her out on a day trip. Thankfully, black was always in fashion. At least, that’s what she told herself since her black turtleneck, gray slacks with the silver-metallic thread, and cherry-red heels were the nicest things she owned.

It didn’t matter in the end because any attention aimed at them was instantly directed to Mei Mei as if she had the gravitational pull of the sun. She strutted right over to the front desk like she owned the place. The girls, having somewhat warmed up to the sorcerer’s daunting presence, followed dutifully behind. Shoko awkwardly trudged after them.

The lady at the front desk went from smiling at Mei Mei to taking one look at Shoko and acting like she was about to choke. Well. Shoko hadn’t thought she looked that bad.

“Ieiri Shoko, correct?” the woman, Kobayashi Hinata as her nametag supplied, asked timidly.

Shoko’s eyebrows lifted, though she maintained her neutral expression. “Yes?” She wasn’t expecting them to know her name upon arrival.

Hinata looked relieved and promptly handed over a thick, black and gold card with both of her dainty, well-manicured hands. “As per the request of the master, the Amex Black Card is free to use however you please.”

Mei Mei brought a hand up to her forehead and struggled to keep her sudden snort of laughter in check. Shoko frowned at her behavior. Mei Mei only acted like that when she got paid a lot of money. Just how much was on this stupid piece of plastic?

She took the card, felt the weight of it in her hand, and carefully slipped it into her candy-red purse. “Thanks. I’m surprised you knew who I was, though.”

The clerk’s eyes widened. “Oh! Yes, well, the master left behind very detailed descriptions so that there would be no mistake as to who you were.”

“Descriptions?”

Hinata nodded vigorously and picked up a piece of fancy-bordered paper and cleared her throat. “‘Tall, skinny, brown eyes, and very limp, brown hair.’ Um …” She suddenly looked nervous to be reading this out loud.

Shoko felt her eye twitch. “Go on.”

“Um … uh, yes, of course. A, uh … ‘a corpse-like face—but in a pretty way—with large eyebags an attractive shade of eggplant—’”

Shoko grabbed both of the girls’ hands and walked away before Hinata could even finish. She wasn’t going to feel bad at all for spending Gojo’s money. Not one bit.

“Why are you in Tokyo?”

Naoya leaned back and flipped his haori sleeves out of the way before elegantly picking up his chopsticks. This was, by far, the best soba restaurant he’d ever been to. He knew this call would be coming though because that was just how his luck had been going today. So, he’d rented the entire restaurant out and now the only people milling about were the nervous-looking employees.

“I’m investigating,” he sighed in aggravation. The chilled, buckwheat noodles were doing little to quell the rising heat of his anger.

“Explain yourself, Naoya.”

He blew out a breath and set down his chopsticks. On the table beside his beautifully presented plate were pages and pages of flight details he’d already read through.

“Someone was stationed at Osaka International to confirm if Youko made it onto the connecting flight from Niigata to Kochi Ryoma. That never happened, yet she ended up in Kochi anyway.”

“Get to the point.”

“Don’t rush me, old man. Anyway, I had the records pulled of every flight out of Osaka within the last twenty-four hours. Around the time frame she could have booked it, there were only flights that went out to Tokyo, Sydney, and New York. And of the three, only Tokyo had a flight out to Kochi within the period of time before Youko swiped the card for the hotel in Shikoku.”

If she had been smart—well, she never would have sacrificed herself for two kids bound to end up dead or disfigured anyway, but, if she had been determined to still betray the Zenins, she shouldn’t have tried to cover her trail with a trackable card. Even Naoya would have been hard pressed to find an unremarkable, plain-as-day woman in Tokyo. Twin girls, on the other hand …

“Is that why you dispatched The Hei without consulting me?”

“The Kukuru Unit would’ve been wiped out within minutes of entering Tokyo, either by the city curses or whoever it is Youko has protecting the brats.”

Zenin Naoya was a cruel, arrogant man. But he wasn’t stupid. Youko went to Tokyo, there was no doubt about that, and there were only so many people she’d be able to find to hide the twins on such short notice.

“Keep me updated from this point onward.”

“If that is what you wish, father. Now, I have a meeting to get to.” He hung up before his stupid father could ask who he could possibly be meeting up with and looked down at his meal with distaste.

His soba had gotten warm.

^{By the way, you’re an asshole. Sent 4:20PM}

^{What’d I do? Received 4:20PM}

^{Hello???? Received 4:22PM}

^{Shokooooooo Received 4:25PM}

^{Stop ignoring me! Received 4:26PM}

^{[GIF; crying cat] Received 4:27PM}

“Which one?”

Shoko left the latest message on read and looked up to find Maki holding up two different boots in each hand, her expression expectant. She snapped her phone shut and hummed as if thinking of an answer. In all reality, she was really trying to figure out how to tell an eight-year-old that those were the two ugliest boots she’d ever seen in her entire life and she’d never be caught dead wearing either of them.

“The white one, Maki,” Mei Mei said with a smile, coming to her rescue. She was browsing the cocktail dress section while Shoko had been casually thumbing through the sweater section. Even though it wasn’t her money, she found it hard to justify buying a plain, gray shawl for ¥10,500, but she was glad the girls weren’t shy about putting things in the hands of their personal shopping assistant.

Anyone with the Gojo Amex Black Card was going to get a personal shopping assistant.

The twins had been nervous at first, but with the encouragement of the hotel staff, the changing room practically had a revolving door on it with the two of them going in and out so often.

Mai had gotten three dresses in varying shades of pink, four blouses (all frilly or sparkly), six snuggly sweaters, a rainbow array of leggings, and plenty of trousers with the pockets that were just for show. Then, to Shoko’s amusement, she had specifically wanted the babydoll shoes with the very short, chunky heel in every color. Shoko, as the responsible adult in this situation, had said yes on the condition that she got a pair of tennis shoes too.

Maki hadn’t wanted any dresses, but she had put a variety of jackets in the personal assistant’s arms (some with chunky zippers and studs, some that reached the floor, some that looked impractical, and some with cringy sayings on the back). She’d liked the plain sweaters in dull or neutral colors, same with the shirts, and gravitated toward the leather, tight pants and skirts. Top it off with chunky boots with also too many zippers to be necessary and that just about wrapped up Maki’s new wardrobe.

New underwear, socks, and pajamas were non-negotiable, and Shoko let each of the girls get their own fluffy robes as well as the cute mittens and knitted beanie hats they’d seen at the front of the store.

Not one yukata in sight though—not that the girls cared.

Rather than shop anymore for herself, she’d chosen to sit down on the tufted, velvet couch in the back while the twins each modeled their newest picks. With staff direction, they surprisingly pulled off outfits that could have been walked right off the runway.

Mei Mei, of course, couldn’t not be the center of attention for long and took to the changing rooms to try on her own picks. For every walkout, Shoko shamelessly whistled and clapped.

After nearly an hour of this, Maki collapsed on the couch next to her just as Mei Mei sashayed back in to strip out of the glittering, violet dress that was so short Shoko was sure it violated a few laws. She peered down at the young girl who was sighing and staring up at the ceiling like shopping had been a deadly foe she’d given her all to vanquish. “Yeah? Tough day?”

Maki nodded. “I’m not used to all this. The clan never let us do stuff like this whenever we got to leave.”

Mai came around the back of the couch and sat down directly next to Shoko, swinging her legs with a little smile on her face. She was wearing her newest outfit out of the store: a pink, oversized pullover with glittery kanji spelling “that girl” in a graffiti-styled font with white shorts over pink leggings. Surprisingly, she wasn’t wearing any of her new babydoll shoes but her bright white tennis shoes that squeaked whenever she walked.

“I like my new outfit,” she said shyly.

The corner of Shoko’s lips quirked upward. “I’m glad. You look cute.”

“I know.”

She snorted and turned to peer down at Maki. “Aren’t you going to wear your new clothes out of here?”

Maki looked up at her with astonishment, clearly not having thought about that. She sat up and glanced over at Mai before finding Shoko’s gaze again. “You can do that? Even though we haven’t paid yet?”

“You can do anything you want in the world as long as you have money.”

Maki’s face darkened, and she stared down at her fraying yukata. Picking at the fibers, she whispered in a voice Shoko hadn’t heard her use before, “Is that why so many bad people have money?”

It was Shoko’s turn to look away, and she sighed heavily. “Bad people exist in the world whether or not they have money. Having money doesn’t make you a bad person. Being selfish does, or greedy, or being so mad you think the only way to handle your emotions is to hit someone.” She paused, not having meant to let that last part slip out. She wracked her brain for something else to say, but a streak of black hair and a patient smile flashed through her mind. She didn’t want to think of him either, but if the shoe fit …“What makes you a really bad person is when you kill innocent people. People with no money do that every day.”

She looked down to find both girls staring at her. She gave them a wan smile. “Besides, Satoru has a lot of money, and he’s not a bad person.” He’s a stupid jerk, though. But they didn’t need to know that.

Attention diverted, Mai piped up with, “Who’s that?”

“The guy buying all our clothes today. I got his credit card at the front desk. He’s the man you saw last night.”

Mai tilted her head. “The one who looked like a paintbrush?”

Oh, she was so going to tell him that one. “Yes.”

“Why?” Maki asked.

She glanced over at the other twin. “Why what?”

“Why is he buying our clothes?”

“Because I told him to.”

Maki gave her a disgruntled face. “Youko says those kinds of people are called gold diggers.”

Shoko’s jaw dropped. “I’m not a gold digger.”

Maki ignored her, face screwing up even more. “Does that make us gold diggers too?”

“No.”

Mai giggled and threw her hands up in the air, shouting, “Gold digger! Gold digger! Gold digger!”

Shoko sighed in exasperation and hunched over, hiding her face in her hands.

“You called?”

She peeked through her fingers and found Mei Mei standing before her, casually posing like good-looking women do, with bags upon bags loading down her arms. Behind her, another hotel employee was holding a tower of boxes, his face blocked.

“You got our clothes?”

Mei Mei smirked. “Oh, honey, these are all mine. Now, are we ready to check out?”

Shoko snorted. “Yes, please.”

It turned out that Shoko would never be ready to see the amount of money on the register’s popup display. She swiped the card on the machine, half expecting it to decline, but no. It was approved.

¥900 million down the drain.

As soon as they left the shop, Shoko shakily pulled out her cell phone and speed dialed Gojo. He didn’t even have time to answer with a greeting before the words were rushing out of her.

“I really didn’t mean to spend that much money with your card.”

“Eh? Did you? I didn’t get a notification.”

Shoko brought the phone away from her face long enough to give it a confused look. “What? You get notifications whenever you use your card?” Talk about annoying.

“Nah, just whenever I dip below twenty billion ye—”

Shoko never pushed "End Call" so quickly in her life.

Chapter Text

“Shoko? Shokooo? Huh, guess she hung up on me.” Satoru sighed and pocketed his phone before leaning back and stretching out his long legs under the table. “Anyway, what were you saying?”

Naoya looked two seconds away from erupting if the ticking vein at his temple was any indication. Ah, this meeting was going to be so much fun.

Though not strictly enforced, it was customary when entering a prefecture presided over by a clan—especially when it involved one of the Big Three Sorcerer Families—to invite the head of the clan to dinner as a token of courtesy. To not do so was to be seen as a snub against that family, but only the three major clans ever really kept to tradition.

That being said, it was extremely rare for a Zenin to enter Tokyo. They would rather sit on their thrones back in Niigata and deploy their lackeys. Satoru wasn’t stupid, though it was hilarious watching everyone around him think so. He knew Naoya was looking for the twins, and he’d already sniffed out the trail that led him to Tokyo. The question that remained, though, was why had he come himself?

This did not mean Satoru thought Naoya was working alone. If he was here, then that meant The Hei were here too. They could be anywhere, looking like anyone.

This could pose a problem.

^{Stay at the hotel. Sent 5:48 PM}

Satoru turned off his phone and pocketed it once more. Shoko and the girls would be safe until he learned what Naoya’s intentions were. He just couldn’t figure out the why of it all. There had been nothing noteworthy about either twin upon his initial introduction. Of course, that wasn’t to say he thought they were useless. But to a Zenin? One had little to no cursed energy output, and the other barely had enough to do anything with. From their clothing alone he could tell they weren’t born to anyone high up in the family.

So, why had Naoya put in the effort to come here himself? He, who hated Tokyo, the Gojos, the technical college, children in general, and anyone who wasn’t useful to him?

Hopefully, he’d soon find out.

Across the table, Naoya stewed in his rage. As the current heir to the Zenin Clan, he could not look so easily undone by the likes of Gojo Satoru. Composing himself as best he could against the most annoying sorcerer in history, Naoya took a sip from his teacup and set it gently down onto the table.

“I was asking how the success of the Gojo empire was coming along. Hotel New Gojo seems to be flourishing.” He’d never been good at small talk, and frankly he didn’t care if Hotel New Gojo burned to the ground along with every Gojo inside—actually, that was a lie. He did care because he would be absolutely delighted in the event the entire clan was reduced to nothing more than tiny piles of ash.

Satoru tipped his head obnoxiously to the side, nearly looking at him sideways and putting the upper half of his body into the action. “When is it not?”

Naoya sniffed. “As arrogant as usual, I see.”

The sorcerer across from him shrugged, a smile spreading across his face. He’d taken to wearing bandages over his eyes now—the excuse being it was somehow less taxing on the Six Eyes—so it was difficult to read him at times. “It can’t be arrogant if it’s a fact.”

Naoya glared over the rim of his cup as he took another sip. “If you say so, but I was act—”

“I do.”

“… Do what?”

“I do say so.”

Naoya’s glare sharpened. “As I was saying—”

“Say, what’d you call me out here for? Don’t tell me it’s a courtesy thing. You don’t seem like the type.”

He snarled. “That’s what I’ve been trying to get to!”

Satoru whistled. “Scary.”

“You Gojos are always the same—”

“I take offense to that.”

“—never taking anything seriously, never respecting your betters—”

A snort. “Betters? Who even says that?”

“—purposely acting as obnoxiously as you can—”

“It’s called having a personality.”

“Will you stop interrupting me?” Naoya snapped, slamming his fist down onto the table.

Satoru grinned before pantomiming zipping his lips closed and throwing away the key—which didn’t make any sense considering zippers weren’t locked to begin with.

Naoya waited for a moment just in case, but Satoru just sat there twiddling his thumbs with the same goofy smile. “I think it’s best for both of us if I cut to the chase.”

Satoru shrugged wordlessly.

“Recently, twin Zenin girls went missing. We tracked down their kidnapper, the servant who’d, up until recently, been responsible for them. We want to know if there was any contact between the Gojo Clan and Zenin Youko over the last forty-eight hours.”

Gojo seemed to ponder this a moment before looking like he had an answer. Except he didn’t speak.

Naoya was going to kill him. “Well?”

He held up a finger, like he’d just come up with a bright idea, and unzipped his mouth. No need for the key it seemed …

Gojo gasped dramatically as if he'd been held underwater until now. “I’m sorry ... what was the question?”

“You—!”

“Oh, right! Nope, can’t seem to recall any Yokos contacting me.”

Naoya narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

“I think I would've remembered a Zenin hittin' me up. Let me ask you something, though.”

“This should be good.” He drained his tea cup and went to work refilling it with the small kettle on the table.

“How is a clan so renowned for pursuing power so horrendously incapable of holding onto some little kids? You already let the Fushiguros slip through the cracks, now two more? Talk about pathetic.”

Naoya refused to take the bait, instead snorting at Satoru’s audacity. “Because an idiot is leading the clan instead of me.” He set down the kettle and picked up his cup, blowing gently at the steam that wafted into the air. His cat-like eyes gleamed over the rim. “I think we’re done here, Gojo Satoru. This meeting was to determine if you were involved in any way with the kidnapping case. Since you’re not, you may take your leave.”

With a big sigh, Satoru leaned back and stretched instead. “Seems like a lot of fuss over some kids. It’s not like they inherited the Ten Shadows Technique since, you know, that’d be impossible.”

At the subtle dig, Naoya’s fingers bit into the ceramic cup hard enough to nearly shatter it. “It doesn’t matter. They belong to the Zenin Clan. I’m sure you remember Toji—”

“Who?”

A creaking noise came from the cup in his hand. “You can’t possibly be that forgetful.”

“All the weaklings kind of blur together at this point.”

Naoya scoffed. “That weakling very nearly took you out, and I would have been eternally grateful for there being one less shithead in the world.”

“Rude! Nao-chan, no one’s going to want to marry you with an attitude like that. I know! You should smile more.”

The Zenin heir slammed his cup down on the table and shot to his feet. “I grow weary of this conversation.”

Across from him, the taller sorcerer only pouted. “Aw, but I was having fun. We should hang out like this more often, Nao-chan.”

“Don’t think I haven’t caught on to your suspicious behavior, either, Gojo. You’ve been more obnoxious than usual.”

Satoru only pursed his lips and looked off to the side. “I’m not obnoxious,” he mumbled.

Naoya ignored him, already incensed enough to forget just who he was lashing out at. “The Hei have already been dispatched throughout Tokyo. If the girls are in this city, I’ll find them, and if you’re involved, I’ll know. Every move you make will be watched, and if I find out that you are involved in the twins' disappearances—”

The bandages holding back the Six Eyes had slowly begun to unravel, and now ethereal blue glowed in the dim lighting of the restaurant.

“You’ll do what, exactly?”

Naoya straightened under the sudden, immense weight pressuring him from all angles, but his glare never wavered. “You don’t want to find out.”

^{Stay at the hotel. Received 5:48 PM}

“What?” she muttered to herself, looking down at her phone with confusion.

“Something the matter?” Mei Mei asked, leaning up against the front desk as elegantly as a model.

They’d made out like bandits in the mall, and they’d been on their way to return Gojo’s card when she’d heard her phone go off. She’d thought it was just him responding to her hanging up on him, but thought it was better to check just to be sure. It could be Yaga for all she knew asking where she was or why there was still probably a mountain of suds flowing out of the women’s baths.

Shoko looked down at the twins and saw the sudden tenseness in their shoulders, the wariness in their eyes. They were waiting for her to say there was a problem, that they’d have to run, that they were in danger again. With bated breath, they were waiting to hear if they’d lose everything all over again.

She pulled back the card she’d been about to hand over to the new clerk and tucked it close to her chest before squatting down to meet Maki and Mai at eye level. “How excited would you guys be if we stayed the night here?”

She didn’t know why Satoru was telling her to stay at this super-luxurious hotel, but she trusted him. Even on the rare occasions he could stress her out so badly she’d need a cigarette (which seemed to happen a lot more recently), she could always trust he’d do anything to keep one of the last people he cared about safe.

And speaking of people he cared about, Shoko was really going to have to stop putting it off and call Uta. But later. Right now, she was dealing with excited squeals from the twins that were so loud everyone in the vicinity was turning to see what all the commotion was about.

“Okay, okay, okay,” she hushed, but she couldn’t help the small smile that wound up on her face. “You have to promise to behave though.”

Both girls stuck out their pinky fingers at the same time, and Shoko hooked one with each of hers before kissing her thumbs to seal the promises. She stood up and turned, handing over the Amex Black Card to the nervous-looking employee who held it like it was worth more than his life. “We’re checking in. Two beds, please.”

Mei Mei leaned over the counter. “Get her a corner room.”

The clerk nodded before his head popped up to confirm with Shoko. “Garden view or city view?”

She shrugged. “Surprise me.”

Mai tugged on her pants. “Can we get a room on the top floor?”

“I want to see the garden,” Maki informed.

After everyone’s desires were accommodated, the clerk smiled to himself as if proud he’d managed to find something they all wanted. “Okay. I’ve got a two-bed corner room with a garden view on the 16th floor. The room includes room service up to ¥15,000 a night, free breakfast, WiFi, valet parking, as well as 24-hour access to the fitness center, spa, pool, in-room premium coffee station—”

“That sounds nice,” she interrupted, hoping to get a move on. The girls were still excitedly whispering to each other, and she was looking forward to taking a hot shower (no baths this time) and collapsing into bed for the rest of the evening.

The clerk beamed. “Yes, ma’am. That’ll be—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted again, this time more urgently. “Just … don’t tell me.”

“Uh … yes, ma’am.”

“Here,” Mei Mei said just as they were about to part by the elevators. She handed Shoko three oversized shopping bags from the mall they’d practically ransacked earlier.

She fumbled with the weight of them, eyes feeling too wide for her sockets. “What?”

Mei Mei sighed dramatically, dark brown eyes glancing over her form. “I took it upon myself to gather some clothes for you since I knew you wouldn’t take the opportunity to do so yourself. Really, Shoko? You shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Shoko was floored. Not only by the gift but by the gesture. “Oh. Thank you, Mei Mei.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Consider it a thank you for inviting me out today. Well, then, ta-ta.” With a graceful wave, she pivoted and sashayed away with her own bags. The personal shopping assistant had informed Mei Mei her boxes of shoes, purses, and whatever else she’d helped herself to would be loaded up into the limo waiting for her outside. Originally, the girls’ clothing would have been personally delivered to the Tokyo campus, but upon deciding to stay for the night, all of it had already been brought up to their room.

Shoko peered down into the heavy bags, but insistent tugs on her slacks kept her from rummaging through them.

“C’mon, Shoko,” Mai whined. “I want to ride the elevator.”

She snorted but let the eight-year-old pull her along to the line waiting for the elevator. “Have you never been on one before?”

“Of course not,” Maki stated matter-of-factly, like that was a stupid question. If Shoko thought about it, it kind of was.

Just like with the baths, though, the girls seemed to be super excited right up until it came time to actually get in. Shoko waited patiently all the while, but after the third elevator closed and ascended, she knew she’d have to make the first move.

Following a businessman in, Shoko turned to watch Maki and Mai stare at her with wide eyes. “Better hurry,” she called to them before pulling out her phone and sending Satoru another text. He hadn’t replied back to her, and that was weird in itself. She felt one of the girls ram into her in their rush to get over the threshold, and without looking, she pointed at the floor selection buttons. “Press sixteen for me.”

She frowned down at her phone. Her Line message hadn’t even been read. She was going to end up calling him back at this point. She at least wanted to know why he’d told them—

“Hurry up and get on!”

Shoko’s head shot up just in time to watch the elevator doors begin to shut on a frozen Maki. She rushed over to throw her hand up and stop them, but she was too late.

The elevator doors closed, with Maki on the other side.

Chapter Text

Shoko quickly pressed the ground floor button, expecting the elevator to immediately open back up. That did not happen. The elevator was going to climb all the way to floor eight for the businessman before going up to sixteen to drop them off—assuming no one else got on.

“Should’ve watched your kids,” the businessman remarked in a nasty tone.

“Shut it,” she snapped and jammed her finger against the second-floor button. The elevator stopped, and she hauled Mai out with her. A vindictive part of her really wanted to smash her hand down all the buttons in the elevator, but she had more important things on her mind. And the guy hadn’t exactly been wrong.

“We left without her,” Mai cried as Shoko barreled her way through the crowded elevator next over. Thankfully, it was going down.

“I know. We’re going back for her.”

Giant, fat tears were welling up in Mai’s eyes, and she couldn’t stop sniffing and grabbing onto Shoko as if she, too, was going to get left behind. Squished together in the stuffed space, her cries were muffled by Shoko’s stomach. That didn’t stop the concerned glances she was getting from everyone else. Nor the expectant looks that practically screamed, Aren’t you going to do something about this?

Like she knew what to do in this kind of situation. Shoko didn’t know how to handle tears, especially someone else’s. Satoru never cried, even when Suguru left. Suguru never cried, even with every nasty curse he had to swallow. No one even cried when a classmate ended up on Shoko’s gurney. It was a fact of life as a sorcerer.

Only one person ever cried on her and that was Utahime when she was belligerently drunk, and usually it was about superficial things that Shoko could easily distract her from with simple things like the moon, another beer, or any utterance of Satoru that would take her from sniveling to cursing his name in two seconds flat.

There was no moon for them to see, Shoko was not giving Mai a beer (although she could really use one herself), and no one hated Satoru like Utahime so mentioning him would be just as useless. She settled for anxiously running her fingers through Mai’s locks as she waited for the ding of the elevator to reach the ground floor.

Please be waiting there. Please be waiting there.

She really didn’t know what she’d do if Maki wasn’t waiting for her in the lobby.

When the ding finally went off, Shoko shoved her way through the masses, dragging Mai behind her, and whirled around in circles as she searched the area. “Maki!” she shouted loud enough to encompass the whole reception area, but right away her eyes landed on the hunched form still standing by the first elevator.

At the sound of her name, Maki’s head snapped up, and Shoko felt her whole body flood with relief. Maki raced over, and Shoko didn’t even think as she knelt down to the ground to catch her. Ugly sobs wracked the poor girl as she buried her face in Shoko’s neck.

“You left me,” she choked the words out.

Shoko bit her lip against the sudden onslaught of feelings that crashed over her. She brought her hand up and laid it gently against Maki’s head and held her tight. “I know. I’m sorry.” She felt more than saw Mai hovering next to her. She had taken to petting her sister’s back, and her sniffles had diminished somewhat.

“I di-didn’t know what to do,” Maki continued, her shudders calming down somewhat, but she refused to let Shoko go.

Shoko ignored the odd looks she was getting from those around her. “You did good. You waited for me. I came back for you, so it was good that you waited.”

Maki pulled back, and she glared at Shoko for all she was worth. “Don’t ever leave me behind again.”

In any other situation, she would have snorted a laugh. She would have rolled her eyes and sarcastically lifted her finger up for a pinky promise. Would have told Maki that she was the one who refused to get on the elevator with Shoko. But she didn’t do any of those things. She just nodded and whispered, “I promise.”

No matter what Shoko said to try and convince Maki she wouldn’t get left behind again, she wasn’t satisfied unless Shoko agreed to carry her—and one might not realize just how heavy eight-year-olds could be, even regularly underfed eight-years-olds, but they were. But Shoko had already fumbled the bag once, so she stumbled into the hotel room with a child wrapped around her like a backpack and nearly choking her, arms loaded down with cumbersome bags, and with one hand holding Mai’s so she also wasn’t left behind.

Like Shoko was going to make that mistake again.

Mai raced over to look at the window, and Shoko let all the bags drop to the floor with a groan. She tapped Maki’s legs, securely wrapped around her stomach, and pointed. “Look,” she encouraged, “it’s the garden view you wanted.”

Maki sluggishly lifted her head. How someone could hold on so firmly yet be dozing should have surprised Shoko, but she was too happy about being set free to care. The haze lifted from Maki’s gaze, and she scrambled down Shoko’s back and dashed past the giant, full beds and slapped her hands against the massive, glass window.

In a neatly stacked pyramid that was unreasonably large and a little ridiculous looking, all their boxes and bags were piled on top of one another on one of the beds. If Satoru was here, he’d have used all the boxes like a set of stairs to climb to the very top while Suguru would have swiped a box near the bottom so that the whole structure …

Shoko’s lips thinned. She didn’t want to think about what Suguru would have done in a situation like this. She kicked off her heels and quickly passed the bed without another glance. Collapsing onto the other one, she watched the girls “ooh” and “ahh” over the garden. Even from her prone position, she could see all the fall-touched trees lit up, the gorgeous waterfall connecting the huge, two-tiered pond, and the red, curved bridge that welcomed guests into the garden. It was a perfect blend of modern opulence and traditional culture.

She sighed and rolled over before blindly searching for her purse. Finding it, she dug around inside until she felt the weight of her phone. She flipped it open and frowned at the lack of messages in her inbox. Putting Uta off for a moment, she tried calling Gojo.

“Yo!” Satoru’s voice filtered through in his typical, cheery fashion.

Shoko felt a wave of relief course through her. “What was up with that cryptic—”

“Just kidding! This is a recording. Leave me a message after the beep!”

Shoko’s expression soured, and she hung up before the beep could even play. “You little shit,” she growled before tossing the phone next to her. Her eyes drifted to Maki and Mai again. They were pointing things out to one another and sharing smiles, giggling about some joke only they were in on.

They looked so different now that they were wearing their own unique styles. Where Mai was having a cute, girly moment, Maki looked like a businesswoman who could turn around and punch your lights out. She’d worn a leather skirt and zipper jacket out of the store with black leggings and an oversized scarf around her neck. Her chunky boots had higher platforms than Shoko’s heels, but it was a good look. A lot more leather than was probably normal on an eight-year-old, but Maki could pull it off.

She wondered briefly what they both would look like in ten years. Their styles were bound to change, but they looked so … right … in their current outfits. Like the world could finally see the personality it’d nearly snuffed out of them.

Shoko blinked, coming back to reality and feeling the weight that came with thinking those thoughts. Was she prepared for this to be her new normal? Waking up and going to bed with two little shadows? Hearing them whine about being hungry, making sure they didn’t ever get scared again, and taking them shopping when they needed new clothes? She’d been thrust so suddenly into the role of caretaker that she hadn’t managed to catch her breath until now.

She didn’t know if she could do it. Just thinking about always having to be responsible for two human beings was enough to give her hives. Her breath felt short all of a sudden, and she was cursing Satoru in her head for a whole new list of reasons.

Satoru, you jerk …

She’d never gotten his voicemail before. What did that mean? What happened? Was he okay?

The Star Plasma Vessel mission warped through her head, and she let her mind conjure up images of the near-death fights she hadn’t been there to witness herself. Every day, she thought of that mission and how she could have done something if she had just been there when Yaga came for the boys. Maybe she could have healed Satoru faster, gotten him up and ready to fight again before that man took out Suguru—before he took out Amanai Riko for good.

She hadn’t been able to take care of two teenage boys powerful enough to go up against the world, so what luck did she have in taking care of two sheltered little girls?

What if she failed them like she’d failed Suguru?

She sat up, suddenly needing a distraction, and there was no balcony for her to smoke on. Suicide rates being what they were and all that … what a depressing thought.

Luckily, she knew just how to change the mood. “Who wants food?”

The girls looked over at her with wide eyes reflecting all the lights from the garden, but they seemed reluctant to leave the window. Understanding their plight, she reached over to the end table and picked up the wireless hotel phone. She shook it at them and gave them a secretive smile. “We don’t even have to leave.”

Maki and Mai exchanged dumbfounded expressions before running over to her and crawling onto the bed. Didn’t even take off their shoes. All that Zenin training had gone right out the window.

“We don’t have to leave?” Maki asked, confirming if she’d heard Shoko right.

“Do they bring it to us?” Mai asked excitedly, clapping her hands and not being able to sit still.

“Mm-hmm. We call in what we want, and then they bring it to us.” She handed the twins a menu, and her own eyes drifted over to the “premium coffee bar” that doubled as a kitchenette.

“How do we pay for it?” Maki queried as she flipped through the menu that wasn’t so much a menu but a generalization of what each restaurant provided. Some were dessert only, some just catered to the late-night snackers, some solely provided breakfast, and it went on and on and on.

Shoko was already over by the bar, browsing the Drip Pod selection. Where were the plain black coffee pods? “They know what card to use because we left it downstairs. They can just swipe themselves.” She knew that wasn’t how it really worked, but try explaining to a horribly sheltered eight-year-old how a card could be on file and see how that worked out.

Well, maybe it wouldn’t be that hard, but Shoko didn’t have the mental energy to do that right now. Hence, the coffee browsing.

Both girls gasped, and Shoko turned just enough to peer over her shoulder. “Find something?”

Mai turned the pamphlet around and pointed, but her finger was blocking their choice anyway. “Sushi!” she clarified, thankfully.

“You guys want sushi? Really?”

Maki nodded. “The elders always got to eat it, and they would talk about how good it was all the time.”

“And sometimes,” Mai continued, “Youko-chan would take the trays from the other maids and give us the ones they were too full to eat.” She looked sad just then, and the pamphlet drooped in her grasp. “I miss Youko-chan.”

Not wanting to be present for another emotional rollercoaster, Shoko swooped in and picked up the phone off the bed and handed it to Maki. “Sushi it is then. Here, tell them what you want.”

Maki took it nervously. “But I …”

“Just dial the number, and they’ll pick up. They’ll ask you what you want and just tell them to pick. Tuna, salmon, uh …” What other fish was there in sushi? She was never big on it herself. “Eel?”

Rather than being disgusted, the girls’ eyes lit up, and Maki hurriedly dialed the number.

There, that’ll keep them busy for a while. Though she did feel slightly bad for whichever employee picked up on the other end.

Her own phone started to ring, and Shoko abandoned her coffee search to hurriedly answer it without looking. “Hello?”

“Shoko!” Yaga barked on the other end, and Shoko sighed in frustration. “Where are you?”

She went back to browsing. “I’m at a hotel. Is someone dying?” She’d found the just plain coffee section, but she was currently torn between French roast and Italian.

“No, thankfully. Why are you at a hotel? And why is there so much foam in the women’s baths?”

She settled for Italian. If she couldn’t smoke, she could at least get that smoky, almost burnt flavor from her coffee. “I finished up all my work, so I took a vacation. I’ll be back soon. And blame Gojo for that.”

“What—Gojo? Why—?”

“I’m hanging up now. If you need me, don’t.” She ended the call and began filling the Drip Pod’s back tank up with the provided filtered water. In the background, she could hear the twins arguing over what to get. That poor employee.

Her phone rang again, and Shoko grumbled irritably until she saw Gojo Satoru flash across her screen. She picked up at once. “Satoru?”

Satoru whistled in her ear, making her wince a little. “Man, you would not believe who I just got done talking to.”

“Is that why you told me to stay at the hotel?”

“Yeah. Say, what room number you in?”

“Why, so you can come be a creep?”

“Creep! A creep wouldn’t ask politely like I did. They would just look up what room you’re staying in—which is something I can do—”

“You’re a creep for even thinking about that.”

“Shoko! I thought you loved me—”

“1654. Now are you going to tell me who it was you talked to?”

The girls gasped. “I was planning on doing it in person,” she heard come through the receiver as well as right behind her.

She spun around, not even surprised that in the middle of the room stood Gojo Satoru. The white bandages were tight against his eyes, pushing his hair up and out of his way, and she was immediately reminded of how the girls had called him a paintbrush.

She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her, though she had tried to cover it with a hand. Satoru wilted like a flower in the sun and sighed at her reaction. “Come on, Shoko, at least pretend to still be impressed by that.”

She hummed in acknowledgement before pressing a button on the coffee machine and watching as it began to squirt her coffee out with disgruntled noises. “Yeah, well, turn around. You sure impressed someone.”

Satoru pivoted on heel, a beaming grin back on his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Zenin runaways. Whatcha doin’?”

Maki picked her jaw up off the floor to glare at him, but Mai just held up the phone and said, “We’re ordering sushi, but we don’t know what we want.” Shoko could hear the confused employee speaking even from her side of the room. It earned her a look from Satoru.

She shrugged. “What? I figured they needed to learn how to do things for themselves.”

“And you say I’m the bad parent?”

“I never said you were a bad parent. That would imply that you are, in fact, a parent.”

“Uh-huh, a likely story. So, what do you girls like?”

“Spicy tuna,” Maki said simply.

Mai looked excited as she began counting on her fingers. “Mackerel and salmon andddd … um, those fish egg-thingys, and eel, and also squid.”

Satoru snatched the phone away from her and started talking over the employee. “Hello! I need an order of your best spicy tuna, and I’m also gonna want mackerel, salmon—yes, this is Gojo Satoru, nice ta meetcha—a side of grilled squid, and any sushi with those fish egg-thingys on top.”

Mai giggled at that, and even Maki looked charmed over his ramblings.

“Yes, yes, yes, all that sounds great! Send it up to 1654. Thank youuu.” He hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed before throwing his arms up in the air and shouting joyously, “The sushi has been ordered!”

“Yay!” Mai cheered, mirroring his pose from the bed.

“Yay!” he echoed.

Shoko and Maki shared a look before their expressions cracked, and they both ended up laughing.

With the girls stuffing their faces with their hands (Shoko was starting to see a pattern whenever chopsticks were an option) in the security of the room, Shoko and Satoru took a walk. He showed her up to the revolving restaurant at the very top of the building, and she could admit that the view was pretty remarkable. They were shown to the VIP lounge, and Shoko had the gall to order a simple draft beer.

“Zenin Naoya contacted me earlier today,” he said when they were left alone, tone serious. Shoko sipped her beer without comment. While rare for Satoru to act this way, there was more to him than the clown persona he so often wore. He was more complex than people gave him credit for, but even Shoko didn’t know the full depth of his soul.

Only one person ever had.

“He wanted to know if Youko had contacted me in the last forty-eight hours.”

“That was fast.”

Satoru looked out at the view, and Shoko briefly wondered how it looked to him with bandages over his eyes. “We can assume she’s dead.”

The girls were going to be devastated, and she was no doubt going to have to deal with their tears again. As much as that was something she wasn’t looking forward to, she refused to keep the truth from them. She sighed.

“What’s the plan then?” She certainly didn’t have one.

“We tell Yaga, but after the Zenins raid the campus.”

“The clan’s going to search the school?”

“I’m betting on that being their next move.”

She sipped her beer and hummed. “Never took you for a gambling man.”

Satoru cocked his head and aimed her a wide grin. “I’m the best. Stands to reason I’d be good at gambling too.”

Shoko snorted but decided to humor him. “Of course.”

He leaned forward suddenly and steepled his fingers, a serious expression back on his face. “You have to stay hidden.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “I have to?”

Satoru pressed on. “Stay here for a while, I’ll handle Yaga. Don’t leave the hotel for any reason until Naoya’s out of Tokyo. Which, knowing him, will be a while. I can warp you in and out of the morgue until then, though. Don’t want you gettin’ fired now.”

Shoko let him go on, waiting patiently until he was finished. “Satoru,” she said after a moment of silence, “I’m not their mom.” As fond as she was of the girls, there was just no way she could be tasked with keeping them for the rest of her life. She had her job, her friends, her whole life to get back to. It may not be anything glamorous like Satoru’s or Mei Mei’s, but it was still hers. She enjoyed her quiet evenings when she wasn’t pulling all-nighters cutting up dead bodies. She enjoyed taking baths and peeing in peace. She liked going out, smoking when she felt like it, eating when the hunger pains got too bad to ignore, and sleeping in until noon.

All the wind seemed to seep out of the taller man, and he slouched back in his seat. “You’re giving up on them?” The words were quiet, but she could hear the subtle, accusatory tone.

Shoko paused, not because of his tone or the way he acted. She didn’t know why, but the words themselves made all the jumbled feelings she’d been experiencing freeze in her chest. Sitting heavy there, it made breathing difficult. She persevered though. “What’s there to give up on? It’s not like they’re mine.”

“They don’t seem to think that way.”

“You don’t know what they think, you haven’t even been here.”

Satoru stared at her, and even with his bandages blocking out his otherworldly eyes, she still felt the weight of all six. “I see everything, Shoko.”

She took another sip of her beer and flicked her gaze to the window. “Then you should see that I’m not fit to be their mom—caregiver, whatever.”

“All I see is someone giving up on two kids who need them.”

Her anger, dormant most of the time, surged forward. “I never asked to take care of them in the first place. You didn’t even stick around that first night—you left me to figure everything out on my own. Someone is dead, Satoru, because of bullshit clan politics, and you’re upset at me for not wanting to be a part of that?”

“You think I suddenly wanted to be responsible for the kids of the man who nearly killed me? Who killed Riko?”

At any other time, Shoko would have been shocked to hear him admit his failures. He hadn’t said Riko’s name since the mission. But her temper had flared, and she was beyond caring. “You can hardly call yourself responsible when you’re never there!”

She might be selfish for not wanting to take on the burden of raising Maki and Mai, but at least she was honest with herself. At least she didn’t swagger around pretending to care, pretending to be there when all an absentee parent ever did was damage the child more by randomly showing up whenever they felt like it.

Taking a final swig of her beer, she stood up and threw a wad of bills on the table. Gojo had paid for more than enough already. “Come up with a better plan. One that doesn’t involve me.” Then she left.

She strode out of the restaurant without looking back. She was so pissed she didn’t look at anyone she passed, mind too preoccupied by what he’d said to really see where she was going. Before she knew it, she stood in front of her hotel room. If she hadn’t so angrily stormed away from him, she would have thought Satoru teleported her here.

She quickly swiped the hotel key and entered the room, kicking off her heels without regard for where they landed. She went to move toward the coffee bar, hoping there was more than complementary coffee hidden under the cabinets, but stopped in her tracks at the sight before her.

Maki and Mai were both knocked out on the bed, still fully clothed. Mai had a piece of sushi in her grasp, having passed out before it could even get to her mouth. The metal room service cart was absolutely ransacked with platter lids askew, rice strewn everywhere, soy sauce dripping over the edge and staining the hotel carpet …

Shoko felt another heavy sigh leave her before she trudged over to the bed and looked down at the twins’ sleeping faces. Their lips were stained with soy sauce, and rice was all over their faces too—and in their hair? At least their new clothes weren’t soiled.

Was she really going to give all this up?

No, I am not entertaining that thought. Who wants messy, sticky-faced children to clean up after? If this had been my carpet, I would have been pissed.

No, she wouldn’t have been. A carpet could be cleaned. Children could be cleaned. Messes, big or small, could be cleaned. She would have sighed, tossed out the idea of cracking open her bottle of gin, and made some snide comments about farm animals tracking through her home. At the end of the day, it wouldn’t have been that big a deal.

Shoko felt the tension leave her, and she went to work shucking off the girls’ shoes, tossing them over her shoulder in the process. She worked Maki’s scarf off so she wouldn’t choke herself in her sleep before slipping away to the bathroom to find a washcloth. It was as luxurious as the rest of the place with black, honeycomb tile flooring and a wooden, standalone tub next to the walk-in shower. The hot water she used for the rag was instantaneous.

The girls’ faces weren’t that bad at least—their hands far worse—but she was making them jump in the shower tomorrow to get the sauce out of their hair. She put back Mai’s forgotten sushi and then wiped up the still dripping soy sauce on the cart. The stain on the carpet mostly came up after a few firm presses, but the hotel staff were still going to have to go over it with a steam cleaner.

They never stirred once, not even when she picked up their legs to get the covers out from under them. They only moved closer to one another when they were snug under the comforter, sharing a pillow and throwing sleep-weighted arms over each other.

Shoko swiped the other pillow and headed for the bathroom. She didn’t feel like moving a mountain of boxes and bags, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d slept in a tub. She climbed in and settled down on her side, untucked her phone from her back pocket, and ignored the countless messages from Satoru and Yaga. She only cared to talk to one person right now.

She heard the phone pick up on the other end, and she felt a relieved breath escape her. “Hey, Uta.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Uta.”

“Shoko?” Utahime’s kind voice came through on the other end. “What’s wrong?”

Why was it that one question could always make someone so on edge feel like falling apart? Shoko felt her eyes grow hot, and then she felt stupid for even crying in the first place. It hadn’t even been that bad today, it was just … a lot.

She managed to keep her voice level though. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Cut the crap. I can hear it in your voice. Did Satoru do something? I’ll wring his neck, Infinity be damned—”

She was cut off by Shoko’s chuckles. “Uta, only you cry whenever Satoru does something to you.”

An indignant squawk. “I do not.”

“Mm-hmm, keep telling yourself that.”

“Seriously, Shoko, what’s wrong?”

What wasn’t wrong? Her whole day had been littered with wrongness from the moment she opened her eyes. “How long do you have?”

“I just finished my coursework for the day, so I have time. Figured I'd give myself a break before starting on that paper.”

Utahime was currently studying for her Bachelor's degree in Education with a major in Japanese History at Kyoto Women’s University. She was aiming for a teaching position at Tokyo Jujutsu High’s sister school in—as expected—Kyoto. The last time Shoko had called her, she’d been on a school trip and staying at a ryokan that’d been standing for over 1200 years. This was probably normal to Utahime, though, who grew up in a shrine that was more than a century old. The Iori family was steeped in ancient tradition and had founded the Hokkaido Jingu in Sapporo on the orders of the past emperor.

“Cool,” Shoko murmured into the phone. She could really use a cigarette right now, but settled for rolling over and cracking the joints in her neck. “So, you know the Zenins?”

A snort. “Seriously? They only burned down the main building to my family’s shrine after Obaa-chan turned down the marriage offer for my mom—who was nine if you recall. Disgusting.”

Yes, Shoko did remember that now that she thought back. The case remained unsolved to the public, and after thirty years, it was as good as buried. The Ioris, though, never forgot. A disturbing, heavy feeling settled in Shoko’s chest at the thought of Maki or Mai—nearly the same age that Uta’s mom had been—being married off for political gain.

“Gross,” she agreed, though she did wonder if that was why the Zenins were wanting the girls back. “Well, speaking of kids about to be nine, I’ve got two now.”

There was a long pause. Then, “I don’t follow.”

She sighed gustily, figuring it was better to start from the beginning. “Last night, Satoru got called away on a mission, but before that he got a call from a Zenin maid. I didn’t get any details before he was rushing me out of the morgue and teleporting me down the mountain.”

“Ugh, I hate it when he does that. I’m never ready to warp speed through the universe.”

“Me either. But as soon as we get there, this car pulls up and that maid, Youko, jumps out and unloads two kids from the backseat. Uta, you should have seen them. They were dirty, starving, and wearing the cheapest-looking yukatas I’d ever seen.”

Utahime gasped, her voice softening. “Those poor babies. Are they okay?”

This was why Shoko called Utahime. She was such a mom—a real mom. A good mom. A mom that actually cared like how all moms should.

“Yeah. Satoru went off on that Special Grade mission and left me with the kids—”

“And you didn’t call me?” she interrupted, tone indignant. “Shoko, what the hell?”

“I know, I know. I had so much to do though. I hid them away in my room for the night after giving them some of Yaga’s soup, and then it’s been go, go, go ever since I woke up this morning.”

“So, why are you in charge of two nine-year-old Zenins? Don’t tell me it’s another case of the Fushiguros?”

She picked at a loose, metallic thread in her pants and shrugged as if Uta could see her. “They’re eight, actually, and yes and no. It’s clear they’ve been abused and neglected, but I don’t know why exactly Youko was so desperate to free them. The Zenins clearly want them back, and now they’re crawling all over Tokyo trying to find them.”

“You’re just now telling me this?” Utahime screeched through the phone. “Do you need a place to stay? My apartment’s pretty small, but—”

“Uta, it’s okay. Satoru put me up in his hotel.”

“Oh.” All the anger seeped out of the sorcerer. “I forget he has that hotel.”

Shoko let a small smile slip onto her face. “I’m glad I didn’t. I made him pay for the girls to get a whole new wardrobe.”

“And you picked out their clothes? With your sense of fashion?”

“Sorry, no, they didn’t have a ‘I don’t get paid enough to wear a uniform so I wear whatever’s comfy’ section. Mei Mei helped them.”

The door squeaked, and Shoko turned just enough to peer over the rim of the tub. Maki and Mai looked like little zombies holding each other’s hands and squinting at the bathroom light.

“Shokooo,” Mai whined, and God did she sound like Gojo just then. “Come to bed.”

“Is that the girls?”

“Yeah, hold on,” she whispered to Utahime. Then to the girls, she gave them a small smile. “The other bed has all our clothes on it.”

Maki sighed. “You can share our bed.”

“I—”

“Mai’s not gonna go to sleep unless you come back.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be right there. Go get back in bed.”

“Promise?” Mai huffed.

“Yes, I promise.”

Only when they shuffled out of the bathroom did Shoko slump against the tub. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”

“Oh my God, they sound so precious,” Utahime practically squealed.

“Yeah, well you can have them.”

“Don’t be like that. If I could, I would, but you’re apparently all they’ve got, so you’d do well to remember that.”

Shoko sighed. “Am I, though? Like yeah they seem attached to me, but it’s only been one day—”

“One day where they probably haven’t been absolutely terrified, starved, beaten, forgotten about, controlled … want me to keep going? You might not be the motherly figure you picture them needing, but you’re a thousand times better than anything they’ve gotten so far.”

“I don’t know about that.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “That maid—Youko—died so that they could escape. That’s a pretty high bar to reach.”

“All the more reason for you to not let her death be in vain. And you said she was a Zenin? Do you seriously think she was allowed to show them any mercy while in the presence of others? She might have loved on them all night long, but the minute someone else was around, she’d have to act like she didn’t care.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she never would have been able to sneak away with them otherwise. No one would have left a sentimental maid alone with two children that were viewed no better than property or tools. They’d start thinking they were worth something.”

Shoko released a hiss of laughter that didn’t hold any joy. “Harsh, Uta.”

“That’s how the clans are. My clan might be small, but that didn’t mean I didn’t spend my whole life learning all about them. Especially the Zenins after what they did to our shrine.”

“Shoko!” Maki called from the bedroom.

“I’m coming!” she called back. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Uta. I’ve been summoned.”

Utahime giggled. “Okay, but just think about what I said, okay?”

“Yeah. Take care.”

“Love you!”

Shoko pulled her phone back and watched the call end. She hit the home button, and was just about to close her phone when an idea came to mind. While he’d been a jerk, she didn’t have to act the way she did. She brought up her inbox and selected Gojo Satoru from her most recents.

^{Sorry Sent 9:24 PM}

^{[GIF; “forgive me pwease”] Sent 9:24 PM}

^{[GIF; glaring husky] Received 9:24 PM}

She snorted. Just like that, they were good again. She quickly scrolled through her GIF library.

^{[GIF; shaved husky] Sent 9:24 PM}

^{[GIF; Homer Simpson backing into bushes] Received 9:25 PM}

^{[GIF; “bitch, I see you”] Sent 9:25 PM}

^{[GIF; man running away] Received 9:25 PM}

She was in the middle of finding the perfect GIF to end the GIF war when she heard Mai whine for her again. With a heavy sigh, she pulled herself out of the tub, grabbed her pillow, and flicked off the bathroom light. When she entered the room, both girls were sitting up waiting for her like they’d been training all night to do so. The curtain was still drawn, and the lights from the garden and city flooded the room and doused them all in sickly shades of blue, green, and red.

She pulled the curtain shut, blacking out the room with the exception of the warm glow from the nightlight in the outlet by the bed. She tossed her pillow onto the mattress and shucked her pants. The girls could sleep in leggings, but she wasn’t about to sleep in slacks. Thankfully, she was wearing a tank under her turtleneck, and she quickly worked her bra off and tossed it somewhere without looking.

The girls scooted over, and she crawled in beside them. Mai gave a big, contagious yawn and relaxed into the bed, and Maki rolled onto her side to get comfy. Shoko was about to follow them into the dream world when a buzz from her phone alerted her of a new message. She fumbled her hand over the nightstand and nearly dropped the blasted thing but caught it just before it slipped off the edge. The bright screen made her wince, and she peered through one squinted eye at the text. She’d never responded to the GIF war, which could only mean one thing …

^{I win. Received 9:29 PM}

Shoko was a terribly light sleeper. It was the reason she drank so much so often, and if she couldn’t do that, she’d work herself to the point her body would give out and sleep whether it was a good time to or not. There were many times in her life she’d gone over forty-eight hours with no sleep, and not even Satoru jumping on her bed or Suguru banging metal pots together could wake her up.

So, it stood to reason that with hardly a beer in her system and having gotten at least a little rest the night before, that every other hour she would wake up to one of the twins getting up out of bed to go use the toilet. Rather, it was Maki hauling Mai out of bed so she wouldn’t pee all over herself.

“Again?” she couldn’t help but moan when, at 5:45 in the morning, Maki was stirring and climbing over her sister.

“She’ll pee the bed otherwise,” was Maki’s slurred reply.

Shoko threw an arm over her eyes and sighed. “She didn’t pee on the pallet I made for you guys.”

“She was too scared to sleep, so she held it all night.”

Well, now she felt bad. She pushed her arm back and watched them leave through tired, dry eyes. Her nose wrinkled at the brief scent of soy sauce that wafted up from their pillow. Why were children so sticky?

“This’ll pro’lly be the last time,” Maki announced around a yawn when both girls stumbled back into the room, the loud flush of the toilet still echoing in the bathroom.

Shoko only nodded since she caught Maki’s yawn, and she settled back into her pillow and waited for them to stop shifting around before trying to catch some more Z’s. Except a small, warm body snuggled right up under her chin. She peered out of one eye and found Mai had scooted over to her side of the bed, and Maki was one step behind her.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh,” Mai whined, face scrunching up before burying it in Shoko’s chest. She got another whiff of soy sauce and her expensive shampoo and conditioner. Not that the products worked since she had “very limp” hair. She ought to shave Satoru bald for that one.

Maybe that was too harsh. She’d settle for hair dye in his 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner.

As her mind tiredly wandered over which hair color would suit Satoru the least, the quiet snores from the twins recaptured her attention. Her eyes flicked down and scanned their chubby-cheeked faces, slackened with sleep, and her own words from earlier filtered back into her brain.

“Dirty, starving, and wearing the cheapest looking yukatas I’d ever seen …”

Utahime’s responding horror came next. “Those poor babies.”

She watched the rise and fall of their chests, their mouths bobbing open just enough to breathe in deeply, their eyelids jumping as they dreamed. They really were just babies. Shoko didn’t know much about children, but she’d never thought that eight-year-olds—so close to hitting the big, double-digit milestone—could still be so dependent and needy.

Her gaze fell to Maki and then Mai, and the events of the day unfolded for her like a book. Maki falling into the toilet and screaming, Mai scarred for life over the incident until Shoko intervened, the amount of dirt and grime scrubbed off their skin, all the hair they’d lost in the de-knotting process, the bubble bath fiasco, and later them boldly picking out their own styles of clothing in the mall. What a day.

“One day where they probably haven’t been absolutely terrified, starved, beaten, forgotten about, controlled …”

But then the elevator scene played out, and Shoko swallowed around the lump in her throat. If only she’d been paying attention, but that was exactly why she felt so sure she wasn’t fit for this whole … caregiving thing. She couldn’t even come close to saying the word “mom.” But Utahime wouldn’t have let that happen.

“If I could, I would, but you’re apparently all they’ve got, so you’d do well to remember that.”

Yeah. She really was all they got if she thought about it. Utahime—even though she was the best choice—was pursuing her degree full time. Yaga would traumatize them with his cursed dolls, Nanami had the emotional intelligence of a dead fish, Mei Mei would sell them off to the highest bidder, Ijichi would pass out from one look at them, and the only reason the Fushiguros had survived as long as they have was because they didn’t listen to anything Satoru said.

Maki shifted, and the blanket fell from her shoulder. Without thinking, Shoko moved it back up under her chin. She stopped abruptly and stared down at her hand like it’d been possessed.

“You might not be the motherly figure you picture them needing, but you’re a thousand times better than anything they’ve gotten so far.”

“Don’t ever leave me behind again.”

“I promise.”

Shit. She was in deep. After only one day, these twins had wormed their way into her life and, like the parasites they were, they were planning to stay.

She sighed and continued securing the blanket around Maki’s chin. If this was her life now, she better start acting the part.

She had vowed a long time ago to never be like her own parents, after all.

Chapter Text

Naoya stared out of the window of his hotel room, mostly taken up by the bright red Tokyo Tower, with a severe frown marring his deceptively handsome face. His henchmen had come sniveling to him throughout the night with no major news, leads, clues, nothing. Granted, Tokyo was massive. It was why he hated it so much. You could spend four hours driving in a reasonably straight line and still be in the city.

That being said, Youko only had the time frame of about an hour and fifty-five minutes to find someone to take those brats to.

Youko’s flight had left at 3:15 PM, and she had checked into the hotel at 9:54 PM. Her flight from Niigata to Kochi was supposed to be two hours and fifty-five minutes, plus the one hour layover in Osaka. But she never got on that connecting flight. A flight from Niigata to Osaka equaled an hour and fifteen minutes, and from Osaka to Tokyo it was an hour and twenty-five minutes. Meaning two hours and forty minutes of her three hours and fifty-five minutes had been eaten up just getting to Tokyo (plus the time it took to get off the first flight and locate and board the other).

That should have only left her an hour, but her excuse when she’d called in that night was that there had been a delay in Osaka.

Naoya called bullshit.

The only flight leaving out of Tokyo and stopping in Kochi took off at 7:45 PM which gave Youko an extra fifty-five minutes. That flight would have been an hour and forty minutes, so it was no surprise when the MasterCard was used at 9:54 PM to check into the hotel in Shikoku.

Naoya peered over his shoulder at the large map of Tokyo Prefecture spread out across the glass coffee table. He glided over and stared down at all the traffic lines merging with those of the topography. He flicked his haori sleeves out of the way before laying a finger down on the unmarked spot where Tokyo Jujutsu High was located. It would be pushing it, and any traffic delays could have hindered the whole plan, but from Narita International Airport to the school would be roughly forty-five minutes one way.

An hour and thirty minute round trip would be well within the hour and fifty-five minute time frame …

Naoya grinned. It was time to make a call to Father Dearest.

Shoko held up the dress to the floor-length closet mirror and frowned. The bags from Mei Mei the night before were scattered at her feet because, even though she probably wouldn’t like a lot of the clothes picked out for her, she refused to wear the same thing two days in a row in the nicest hotel in Chiyoda. She turned to see what the girls’ opinions were.

They were in the middle of ruining the fresh shower they’d just gotten as they stuffed their faces with American-style pancakes that had way too much whipped cream on them. At least the strawberries on top were nutritious.

Maki gave her a disgusted face but at least didn’t speak of her disdain until she swallowed her food. “Too short. And sparkly.” Right, because Maki seemed to hate glitter, sequins, gems, and just shiny things in general (unless it was metal). Her own clothing spoke of this. She was wearing a chunky, black sweater with brass buttons, wine-red shorts, and black leggings underneath. Thankfully, she’d pushed her sleeves up to her elbow so the syrup wouldn’t get on the material.

Mai looked up and shrugged, cheeks stuffed fuller than a chipmunk’s. She covered her mouth with her hand, which Shoko was sort of grateful for, and said, “I like it.” And of course Shoko expected that answer from Mai, the Princess of Glitter. Only she wasn’t wearing anything glittery today, surprisingly, so Shoko might have to rescind that title. Her blouse was pale pink and had large, delicate ruffles on the long sleeves. She wore a pleated, white skirt and white leggings underneath with plans to wear her pastel-pink babydoll shoes. She’d also taken care to push her sleeves up and out of the way.

It seemed they’d both learned that scrubbing sauce out of things wasn’t very fun.

Shoko sighed and dropped the dress. It wasn’t bad—very short though as Maki had pointed out. She rifled through the same bag and came out with a lavender, floor-length dress with a pearl-like sheen.

“Where would I even wear this to?” she muttered to herself before trying again. Apparently, that bag was strictly dresses, so she nudged it out of the way and tried the others. Ah, finally, some sweaters.

She pulled out the one she’d been looking at yesterday, the gray shawl, but decided against it. The navy-blue fisherman looked cozy.

“Shoko!” Gojo yelled from out of nowhere, appearing in the room right behind her.

Shoko slowly turned, expression darkening.

He wasn’t wearing his bandages today, so she saw the quick up-and-down flick of his blue eyes over her bra and underwear before he paled so badly he matched his hair. He whirled around and dry-heaved, making disgusted noises in the back of his throat. She kicked him square in the butt for that, but she only hit his Infinity.

“Ack, gross! Put some clothes on!”

“I’m not the one who barged into someone else’s room,” she stated simply as she pulled the sweater over her head.

Gojo continued to dry-heave. “Ah, God, it’s like I’m seeing my sister in her bra and panties.”

Shoko rummaged around until she found some high-waisted, skin-tight (thanks, Mei Mei) khakis in a very autumn, rusty-orange color. “First of all, the word ‘panties’ is something I never want to hear you say ever again. Secondly, you don’t have a sister. Okay, I’m dressed.”

Satoru stopped dry-heaving at once and spun around, cheeky smile back on his face like the situation never happened. “If I did, it’d be you.”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

Satoru turned and strolled over to the twins, long legs making him look like a spider, and bent over to get in their faces. Maki bravely stared him down, still chewing, while Mai looked unnerved. “I see the squirts are eating a balanced, nutritious breakfast.”

Shoko was brushing her shoulder-length hair in the mirror, unfazed by his lack of personal space issues. The girls were just going to have to get used to him. “Don’t act like you don’t pick off the strawberries and add chocolate sauce.”

Satoru stood up ramrod straight and turned on her. “Not true! Chocolate-covered strawberries are the best.”

“Why are you here annoying us so early in the morning?”

“Mean!”

“The truth hurts.” She put down her brush and spun around, crossing her arms and waiting for an answer.

Satoru peered over his shoulder to look at the kids, but they were ignoring him now. He then met her gaze and nudged his head in the direction of the door. She took the hint well enough.

“Girls,” she said but paused. For some reason, she lost the words she was going to say when she glanced over at the domestic scene before her. It was a surreal moment now that she was about to walk away from it. She had looked over and had seen Maki neatly cutting her pancakes maybe twenty times. She’d seen Mai smear the whipped cream evenly over every pancake. But, right at this moment, it felt different watching them stop what they were doing and look up at her, attention undivided. She shook herself. “Satoru and I will be back in a few. You know the rules?”

Mai’s eyes glanced back and forth between them, and she slowly set down her fork. “Where are you going?”

“Just nearby—”

“Are you leaving us?” Maki asked suddenly, and Shoko knew she didn’t just mean for a few minutes.

The weight of that question seemed to rest squarely on her shoulders, and she felt Satoru watching her and waiting for her answer as well. She was standing at a fork in the road, and there was no more time to think about where she was going to go. She had to make a choice.

Either it was everything she’d ever known, or a life full of twists and turns the likes of which she would never be able to predict.

She sighed, and all the weight fell off her shoulders. She already knew her answer, so she might as well stop beating around the bush. “No, I’m not leaving.”

Shoko could see it instantly. The weight that had been on her shoulders had been on theirs too.

“Okay,” they both said and resumed eating.

She nodded, but she still felt a little lost. Freer in a sense. Weighed down in another. But equally lost in both. When she closed the door behind her, she felt Satoru’s gaze on her back. She started walking ahead of him, not wanting to see his smug smile. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Pay up.”

Shoko’s eyebrows rose, but her face remained otherwise neutral. “What?”

“I told you the Zenins would raid the campus.”

They had just crossed over the curved bridge into the garden. Visitors were milling around and pointing at the beautiful, landscaped views. Fallen leaves fluttered in the breeze before sweeping by their feet. Her cherry-red heels threw her outfit off, but she hadn’t cared enough to scour through the boxes and bags for something to match.

She hummed, recalling their conversation from last night—the one before it’d veered off into feel-ville. “I don’t remember betting against you.”

A frown pulled at Satoru’s mouth, and he dropped his outheld hand. “That was supposed to work.”

Shoko stopped abruptly, and her eyes didn’t even see the aquamarine water rippling in the gorgeous pond as a pulse of fear struck through her. “Wait. When are the Zenins supposed to be searching the campus?”

Satoru scratched the top of his head. “Eh … probably sometime now?”

She grabbed onto his shoulder, and her fingers felt the buzz of Infinity separating them by mere millimeters. “You have to take me there—now.”

“Wha—”

“I have to look like I have no involvement in their disappearance, and I left a pallet of blankets on my floor along with their stuff. While I walk around being seen, you go take care of that.”

“The girls—”

“They’ll be fine. I already gave them my word.”

He looked pensive for a moment before nodding. “All right, hang on tight.”

Her fingers dug into his sleeve. “Just don’t drop me.”

The first thing she did when they landed within the morgue was spark up a cigarette from the packet in her desk drawer.

Satoru waved the smoke away from him and coughed. It seemed it was the only thing that his Infinity didn’t work on. “You said you quit.”

“I’m trying to, but you keep stressing me out.” She waved the lit stick around her body and let the smoke embed itself into her clothes. She ashed it on her desk, rubbed the soot stain off with her sleeve (and tried not to think of the dry-cleaning bill) before pocketing the evidence.

“Ooh, clever.”

She grabbed a spare lab coat and threw it on. “Not the first time I’ve snuck in or out of somewhere.”

“Shoko, I had no idea you were such a bad girl.”

“And leave all the fun to you and—” She cut herself off. Suguru wasn’t to be named around Satoru. Not anymore. It wasn’t a rule or anything, but she wasn’t heartless. “—Nanami?” she finished lamely.

Satoru laughed, and she winced at the sound. It was clearly fake. “Real smooth.”

She pivoted, face blank, and started pushing him toward the door. “Shut up and go clean my room.”

“What? Am I a maid now?”

“You can be one for Halloween if you behave, now go.”

“Fine, but you have to dress up like a sexy nurse. We can hit the streets together and steal candy from the kids.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Before she could shove him some more, he teleported out of there. With him out of her hair, she spun to take in her office. There was paperwork strewn everywhere, but not because of any aggressive searching done by the Zenins. This was how her office always looked.

She technically didn’t have any work to do, but she could always look busy. She grabbed a stack of paperwork that was probably a month old and made for Yaga’s office on the other side of the school. She’d be seen, and her nonchalant disposition wouldn’t rouse suspicion.

It paid to be desensitized to life sometimes.

A knock on her door halted her thoughts. It opened before she could turn, and Yaga and a man wearing traditional clothing came barging in. Yaga stopped abruptly upon seeing her.

“Oh, you’re back. I wasn’t sure.”

She shrugged. “Vacationing in Tokyo turns out to be pretty boring when you live here. I should have gone to Kyoto.”

“Right. To see the Iori girl?”

“Yeah.”

Yaga sniffed, and his nose wrinkled. “Have you been smoking in here?”

“You’d lecture me to death if I smoked in here. I just came back in.” That, technically, wasn’t a lie.

The man yet to be introduced didn’t seem to have any qualms in openly looking around the morgue while they spoke. He was taller and lankier than Satoru with long, black hair tied back in a tight ponytail. He seemed very young; it was obvious in his movements, his expressions, his grace. His eyes were also more expressive than he probably meant for them to be, for Shoko could see him eyeing the cold chambers with clear suspicion.

“Interested in being a pathologist?” she asked dryly, leaning back on her desk. “Or maybe a mortuary assistant?”

The man gave her a withering glare. “No.”

She shrugged. “Well, if you change your mind, we’re always hiring.”

Yaga cleared his throat. “This is a member of The Hei. They’ve been given permission to search Jujutsu High for the disappearance of two missing girls.”

“They’ve been given permission,” not “I’ve given them permission.” Which meant the Higher-Ups were in on this since no clan—not even the big three—could impose on neutral ground without going through Jujutsu Headquarters first. This wasn’t good. If they had some of the Higher-Ups in their back pocket, the Zenins were going to be a much bigger problem than they first thought.

“How old are the girls?” Shoko asked cooly, and she made herself seem as disinterested as possible as she began filing her nails.

The Hei member, having been introduced, made quick work of opening up the chamber hatches. He made faces at what he found in a few of them. “Eight.”

“Little young to be going to school here,” she sighed. “I think I’d remember cutting up a child’s body, so you can stop looking in there.”

That seemed to only offend the man. “Are you trying to stop me? Now you only look more suspicious!”

“Enough,” barked Yaga, clearly stressed over the whole situation, and it wasn’t even noon yet. “She’s just saying you’re wasting your time.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

After thoroughly investigating the space—taking longer than necessary and forcing Shoko to pinch her thigh every time she felt like tapping her foot—The Hei member huffed.

“No little girls? Shame, I could use the help.”

The man ignored her wry comment and crossed his arms over his chest. He may have some super technique, as having one was required to be a part of The Hei, but Shoko wasn’t intimidated. Not only was she a vital part of the sorcerer world being the only person who could use RCT on other people, but an attack on a neutral party would piss off even the corrupted Higher-Ups. They had an image to uphold.

And it was no secret that the entire school was under the protection of Gojo Satoru.

“Where were you on the night of their disappearance?”

What, no date? Is he stupid? Does he think I’m stupid? It made Shoko want to mess with him a bit.

“In the morgue.”

His eyes flared wide, and he pointed at her as if he’d caught her. “Ha! I never spoke a word of when they disappeared!”

“Yeah, but I’m in the morgue every night.”

The man deflated, but now he just looked more pissed. Yaga groaned. The big man was two seconds away from having an aneurysm. “Shoko, please.”

“I was just answering his question.”

The man, whose name she did not care to learn at this point, growled in annoyance. “Fine, then where were you on October 10th between 4:00 and 7:00 PM?”

“In the morgue.”

His lips pressing into a thin line was kind of funny, but Shoko was already tired of playing with him. She wasn’t going to give him any indication she knew about Maki and Mai, and time was ticking. The girls were waiting for her back at the hotel, and she needed to wrap this up without seeming jittery or jumpy or anxious.

She groaned and threw her head back, and her own annoyance wasn’t fabricated in the least. Yet, the lies rolled easily off her tongue. “I didn’t see any eight-year-olds that night, I don’t know what they look like, where they could be, and I haven’t heard a single thing about missing children because I’ve been in the morgue cutting up dead bodies of people who died doing real jobs.” Her head rolled around, and she stared him dead in the eye. “If that’s all you wanted, get out so I can get back to work.”

Incensed, the man looked a second from going against the neutral policy, but Satoru chose that moment to materialize. The Hei member floundered upon his entrance and backed up a few steps, suddenly nervous. Must be nice to have that kind of presence.

“Shoko! There you are, I was lookin’ for you everywhere!” Satoru whined loudly in true Gojo fashion.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’ve been here this whole time, dummy. Where did you look?”

“The smoke shop, the convenience store, the arcade, every spot on campus where you think no one knows you’re smoking, the sex shop—”

She chucked her hole puncher at him, and he ducked like his Infinity wasn’t up. His too-wide smile was back. “What?” he cried, dodging her stapler. “I can’t imagine what it’s like being lonely, but I’m sure—” He ducked again when she threw her ivory paperweight next.

The Hei member, having had to dodge everything that bounced off Gojo’s Infinity, stood up and angrily yelled, “Gojo Satoru! I have a few questions—”

“Non!” Satoru turned on heel, holding up one finger and adopting a stupidly accurate French accent. He pivoted again, leaving the man behind him stunned, and then he sent Shoko a wink behind his blacked-out sunglasses. “My good lady, our brunch date awaits.”

“Satoru!” Yaga barked, face grave and arms crossed over his chest. “You better not have caused any trouble.” He spun on Shoko who was back to filing her nails. “And didn’t you just say you were going to get back to work?”

“Yes, but now I have a brunch date, and you know how destructive Satoru can be when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

Yaga grumbled something about spoiled children, which Shoko full heartedly agreed with, but he allowed them to blip off the school grounds without any more complaint.

Chapter Text

Maki and Mai ran up to Shoko as soon as she walked into the hotel room. Mai barreled straight into her and hugged her around her waist, and Maki stood just a few paces behind and started firing off questions.

“Where were you guys? What took you so long? You were only supposed to be gone for a little while—did something happen? Why—”

“Oi, oi, oi,” Satoru interrupted and dropped down into a squat before her. He flicked his glasses up, and it was like a trance had fallen over the girl as she met his gleaming gaze. “Listen up, kid, I’m about to drop a bomb of wisdom on your head. The only thing you gotta remember is that I’m the strongest. As long as Shoko’s with me, nothing bad’ll happen. Got that?”

Maki looked unconvinced. “You’re supposed to be the strongest? No one else is stronger than you?”

Only one person ever gave him a run for his money, but he was dead now. “Nope. No one’s stronger. Everyone who’s weak fears me, and everyone who doesn’t is stupid.”

Maki looked to Shoko for confirmation, and she nodded. Though she hated inflating Satoru’s already enormous ego, the girls needed to be assured they were in the best possible hands. “He’s what makes the Gojo Clan so powerful.”

"Are the Gojos as powerful as the Zenin Clan?" Mai asked, still clinging to Shoko.

Satoru shrugged nonchalantly, but a smile had stretched over his face. "Don't know how the members of my clan match up against the Zenins to be honest. We're kind of small, but you want to know something?"

Both girls nodded.

"I could take on every single Zenin member all at the same time and win."

The girls gasped and snapped their gazes up at Shoko, needing confirmation from her like she was some kind of expert on jujutsu techniques. She guessed it really didn't matter if she was or not. It was Gojo Satoru they were talking about here. She nodded with a single shoulder shrug. "He's not lying."

The girls gasped again, and Shoko could see it in the shine of their eyes that they were seeing him in a new light. With them now sufficiently calmed down, they hurriedly crawled back into bed while Satoru showed them how to work the TV.

As cartoons played in the background, the adults shuffled over to the coffee bar. “So, what do we know so far?” Shoko asked to start the conversation rolling while she filled up the water tank.

Satoru leaned against the bar, and Shoko could see the gears turning in his head. “The Higher-Ups are involved. Naoya had to pull some strings because Headquarters wouldn’t care about two kids with not enough cursed energy to even take out a Grade 4 curse. None of this makes any sense.”

She nodded. “This goes beyond their pride. They want something.”

“Whatever it is, it’s fueled by desperation. Naoya would have never singled me out otherwise.”

“Which meant he already knew the school was suspect. Yaga would’ve been pissed about it, but I doubt he would have denied the Zenins onto the property if they were just searching for two kids.”

Satoru shook his head. “Nah. He would’ve told ‘em to get lost.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, he hates clan politics more than anyone, but that’s ‘cause he deals with the Higher-Ups directly always pullin’ him in different directions. Ever since he became principal, his mood’s been worse.”

Shoko watched her coffee squirt out of the machine, but her mind was elsewhere. “Well, that means that, rather than waste his time with Yaga, he went straight to the Higher-Ups. He had incentive.”

Satoru shrugged. “May have been ‘cause I pissed him off last night, but even I didn’t account for him movin’ quick as he did.”

“They’re the largest clan out of the three. They’ve probably done the smart thing and divided their numbers so they seem like they’re always one step ahead.”

When she collected her mug, Satoru popped in a chocolate-caramel cappuccino pod into the Drip Pod and brought down a cup from the top cupboard. “Yeah, and Naoya’s always been the calculative sort. Insufferable bastard.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

Gojo, for once, didn’t rise to the occasion. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he figured out Youko’s plan down to the exact timing. The only thing he isn’t sure about is my involvement.”

Shoko’s eyes drifted over the rim of her mug to land on the girls. Maki kept looking over at them, clearly listening, and Mai looked … off. She was hunched in on herself as she watched Doraemon play out on the television. It was clear she’d been listening too.

They really shouldn’t be having this discussion in front of them, but she highly doubted the girls would want her to leave again. And it wasn’t like they could postpone this discussion. They needed to come up with a plan.

“What do we do then?” she asked. She knew she couldn’t stay at the hotel for the rest of her life. Something had to be done about the Zenins. Maki and Mai would never know peace otherwise.

Satoru plucked a carton of cream from the mini-fridge and poured an unhealthy amount in his cup. “For now, lay low.”

“That’s it?”

“S’all I got right now.” He then tipped a can of whipped cream over, and Shoko watched in amused disgust as he sprayed a mountain of the stuff ontop. She turned away before she could watch him drizzle caramel sauce over it all. Her gaze flicked back over to the girls, and she felt lost once again.

God, she missed Suguru. Especially at times like this. If this was a video game, Satoru’s stat chart would have him bleeding over the edge with his cursed energy output, complex cursed techniques, and advanced combat skills. But Suguru? Suguru may not overflow in any one area of his stat chart, but he would fill it all up, that was for sure. And that included the little-known skill called strategy. He had it in spades.

So, imagine her surprise when he threw his life away on fascist ideals after the Star Plasma Vessel mission failed. Like the old Getou was dead and this new Getou was a stupid imitation. Like Toji had shot him in the head and he’d died that day …

Okay, that was mean. Riko didn’t deserve that.

She blew out a shuddering breath. He just would’ve really been useful right about now.

She felt a nudge on her arm, and she peered over to find Satoru looking down at her. His glasses had fallen forward, and she could see all of the world reflected in his blue eyes. “Hey, remember what I said earlier?”

She couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at her lips. “‘Everyone who’s weak fears me, and everyone who doesn’t is stupid’? Guess I’m stupid.”

Satoru snorted, and she was relieved to see a real smile on his face even if it was fleeting. “Guess so. But no. What I told Maki. It wasn’t just for her, ya know.”

“As long as Shoko’s with me, nothing bad’ll happen.”

She nodded, letting the words sink in. “Yeah.” And yet, even with the strongest sorcerer alive on her side, it was hard not to imagine the what-if’s. As much as Satoru liked to think he was God incarnate, he wasn’t. He couldn’t will things into existence just because it was what he wanted.

They all learned that the hard way the day Suguru left.

“Hey!” Maki gasped, and both Satoru and Shoko whipped around. They found both girls standing on the bed, Maki pointing to the television.

And there, on the TV, were the twins. The word “MISSING” was stamped above their slightly blurred photos.

Shoko sank down onto the bed. There was no way they could lay low now. Not in a place with as many eyes and ears as Hotel New Gojo.

“What?” Maki shrieked, and Shoko closed her eyes and withheld a sigh as Mai burst into tears. She knew this would happen, but she hadn’t had time to tell them yet. Everything felt like it was going at a breakneck speed, and she could hardly catch her breath.

She turned just in time to catch Mai in her arms, and she had to pull Maki over to her with some force. The girl had lost all her strength, and she’d fallen back to the mattress in a heap of limbs. Her mouth was agape, and a single tear was trailing down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the tops of their heads, but she knew the words meant nothing in the wake of their pain. They hadn’t meant anything to her when she’d heard them countless times over the years.

Maki was silent as she wrapped her arms around Shoko’s neck, but her body started shuddering violently. She held the sounds back, and Shoko couldn’t help but think this was something she’d forced herself to do after so many years of being hushed. She carded her fingers through both girls’ hair, but she didn’t know what else to do. “I’m sorry,” she repeated uselessly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why does everyone have to leave?” Maki finally sobbed into her chest, and her voice was so raw. It was so full of pain, of longing. It was so real. Shoko swallowed, but the dam on her feelings was cracking. She felt a hot tear slip down to her jaw. How often had she felt that way? How many times did she smile and wave someone off, only to receive their body in a bag the next day? How often did she stay up night after night, waiting for them to come home?

Waiting for the mother who abandoned her?

The friends who died?

Suguru who changed?

“I don’t know,” she said to them, but her voice cracked too many times to even sound like herself. Both of them jerked back, eyes wide as they took in her expression, her red eyes, the lone tear, and their faces crumpled all over again.

She felt a heavy hand rest against her shoulder and long fingers squeeze. Satoru wouldn’t cry. He would never cry in front of anyone. But she knew. She knew he had gone through this all before, only he had been alone, just as she had once been. These girls would never be alone again, though. This she vowed. They had the strongest backing them, and whatever the strongest couldn’t stop from reaching them, Shoko would be there to heal the wounds.

She was a doctor, after all. Healing was what she was meant to do.

“We can’t stay here,” she said later that morning. The girls had emotionally worn themselves out and were napping, heads laid across Shoko’s lap. She was threading her fingers through Mai’s hair, and every time she stopped, the girl would shift and whine.

Satoru was on his phone—had been on his phone since the news story. The girls were never supposed to see that, but Maki admitted to changing the channel so Mai would be more distracted. She hadn’t been a fan of Doraemon.

“I know,” he said, shutting his phone with a snap and looking out the window. He appeared as serene as he always did when not wearing his goofy smile, but she knew his mind was working overtime. When was it not? He was no Getou Suguru, but Gojo Satoru was, by all rights, a genius. “The clan elders have already been alerted that it’s a political ploy, but they don’t want the girls staying here. The staff are all distant relatives to the Gojo line, but all it takes is one guest seeing them.”

She nodded. She’d never seen the Gojo elders, but she imagined them all with white hair and blue eyes. It stood to reason that probably wasn’t true, Satoru being the anomaly that he was, but she still couldn’t get the image out of her head. “Twins are rare. Identical twins are even rarer.” She needn’t say more. Maki and Mai could pass for one another even with their bangs cut in different styles. They were dangerously memorable in that regard. With their faces plastered all over the news, even in a city as packed as Tokyo, they would stand out.

He sighed, but it wasn’t big or theatrical. It was tired. It was annoyed. Shoko felt the same way. “They had to have filed a missing person’s report as soon as we left the school.”

“How many were there searching?”

“Out in the open? Fifteen. But I saw forty-three scouting the campus.”

Shoko whistled. “That’s a lot.” Her statement held more weight to it than it may have seemed. That was a lot—for neutral ground. That was a lot—for two little kids. That was a lot—for mere “property.” “They would have covered the ground in less than an hour at that rate.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But there’s a few buildings that are so secretive even the Higher-Ups don’t know about them. I doubt even Yaga does. We could hide them out there.”

“When’s the last time the Higher-Ups came looking? And Yaga’s got enough on his plate to worry about secret buildings you may or may not be fooling around in.”

He shrugged again. “Probably not a good idea anyway. I can go look, but I’m sure they’ve left surveillance up via cursed techniques.”

She shook her head. “It’s not worth it. Even if there’s no surveillance, we can’t bring them back to the school. If they searched the campus once, they’ll search it again. They’ve got big dogs backing them.”

“I just don’t get why. It’s been buggin’ me.”

“You’ll figure it out eventually. Finding a place to go is the priority right now.”

He suddenly grinned. “Oh, I’ve got a place for you to go, but it’s not gonna hold all this.” He waved his hand at the mountain of clothes still stacked on the other bed.

“You can’t be connected—”

“Trust me, I’m not. The place is registered under another name. Besides, it’s not even located in Tokyo.”

Shoko narrowed her eyes. “Where is it then?”

His grin spread wider across his face, and he looked positively devious. “Saitama.”

Oh. That wasn’t far at all, so she didn’t get his reaction. “Your devil is showing.”

Satoru wiped the smile off his face. “You and the girls’ll be fine. You’ll even have your own space. I’ll just have to drop by more often to getcha for work.”

He wasn’t telling her the whole story, but she didn’t think he’d drop her in shark-infested waters now after everything. So, there wasn’t much point in asking a whole bunch of questions he’d just dodge anyway.

“I’ll treat you whenever we’re out from now on.” She owed him that much, at least.

He seemed to brighten at that prospect. “I’ll hold you to it, doc, now let’s get a move on.”

She sighed. “Okay, I’ll start packing.”

Saitama was like what Tokyo was fifty years ago. It was a little less crowded, a little less expensive, but just as easily lost within as the capital. She was still on edge being seen in public with identical twins, but Satoru had continued watching the news story while everyone else fell apart. The news reported that the girls were believed to have been dropped off in Tokyo prior to Youko fleeing to Shikoku.

Satoru had assured her that anyone in this part of Saitama wouldn’t be looking for the girls. They were just on the edge of the “good” part of the city, and the buildings were old and rundown. Power lines cut through the views of the sky, and the busy street was pushed right up against the standalone, three-storied building.

“This is a multi-unit building I took ownership of when I first started sponsoring Megumi and Tsumiki. Though, it’s still under the previous owner’s name.”

“Charming,” Shoko muttered as she eyed the rusted railings, the odd stains that dripped down the concrete surface only to dry in the relentless sun, and the wires that curled and looped this way and that. It was on the corner of an intersection with a road on the left side and an overgrown alley on the right.

“You should have seen the first apartment they were living in. Makes this place look like Hotel New Gojo.”

A pungent smell whipped by with the breeze, and the girls both wrinkled their nose. “I don’t think so,” was all she said.

“Look, it’s the only place Megumi allowed me to move them to. Anything fancier and he started whining about him owing me and how he ‘never wanted to be indebted to me for as long as he lived.’ Tch. Ungrateful much? I told him it wasn’t my money but funding from the school on the assurance he would attend Jujutsu High. That shut the little twerp up.”

Shoko said nothing as he walked them through the property. If Megumi and Tsumiki were living here rent-free, then she could expect the same treatment. The entrance was located on the alley-side of the building, and opening it led to a garage—technically the first “floor.” No one owned a car so it was just used as storage. Shoko had half a mind to tell Satoru to warp back and get the rest of the girls’ clothing he’d told her to leave behind and put it all here. In fact, she would—eventually. It wasn’t like he was going to throw their new wardrobes away.

In the garage, an enclosed, L-shaped stairwell took them up to the second-story landing before hooking right and continuing on up to the third and final story. The lone door was accessed by a coded lock, and it opened up to Megumi and Tsumiki’s apartment. It was only a one bedroom, but it was enough. The third floor would be identical but remained empty since the kids below hadn’t wanted to needlessly climb stairs. Not like there was much of a view anyway, but if one did want to see it, the rooftop was a shared space.

Satoru stopped on the landing and banged loudly on the door in a specific, unique pattern. Four knocks in, the door opened to a scowling face that would look more appropriate on a forty-year-old rather than a seven-year-old.

“What do you want?” the boy demanded in way of greeting.

“Is that Gojo?” a soft voice asked excitedly from within the apartment. Megumi sighed and moved out of the way just as Tsumiki barreled through with a plate of cookies in her hands. Her chestnut-brown hair had been piled messily on top of her head, but her signature side bangs still framed her face. She wore a faded apron with flour-dusted handprints marking it up over her clothing—which also had flour all over it. “Satoru!” she gushed happily. “I made cookies! Try one, try one! Megumi won’t eat any.”

“How cruel to let a lady’s hard work go to waste, Megumi-chan. I thought I taught you better than that!”

Megumi only rolled his eyes, but his expression looked suddenly pained, and he held his stomach. “That’s the fourth batch she’s made in less than a week. I can’t take it anymore.”

Gojo laughed triumphantly, taking two, three, four cookies and stuffing one into his mouth straight away. “Weak,” he chided, crumbs falling from his lips.

“Oh!” Tsumiki grasped, having finally realized Gojo wasn’t alone. “Shoko, you’re here too? And … your daughters?”

Shoko’s eyebrows shot up high on her forehead. “How old do you think I am, Tsumiki?” She’d only met the girl twice, but she was an odd blend of both Megumi and Satoru. Serene and mature, but friendly and outgoing. Neither too cynical nor super hyper—unless she was wanting someone to try her cookies.

Megumi came to Shoko’s defense … sort of. “That’d be like if Gojo was our dad. Gross.”

“You wound me, Megumi-chan!” Satoru whined around a mouthful of cookie.

“We’re staying on the third floor for a while,” Shoko clarified. “This is Maki,” she shoved the braver girl forward, “and this is Mai.”

Tsumiki waved kindly. “Feel free to come knock on our door if you ever get lonely.”

Shoko was about to say that wasn’t likely to happen, but Mai stepped out from behind her with a wide-eyed look. “Really?”

Megumi shrugged. “Better than him knocking on our door—”

“I’m literally right here.”

“—and we’ve got video games.”

Shoko and Satoru exchanged looks. This just might be a better plan than they originally thought.

Maki, pugnacious through and through, crossed her arms and stared Megumi down. “Can you show us how to play?” She looked like she might deck him if he made fun of her for not knowing how to play video games, but Megumi could rival Shoko’s level of apathy even on a bad day.

“Yeah, come on in.”

The girls’ excitement was palpable as they rushed in without even a backward glance.

“Have some cookies!” Tsumiki excitedly offered as she followed behind.

Shoko blinked as all four children disappeared from the hall. “I’ll just be up—”

The door slammed shut.

“… stairs.”

She felt Satoru’s crumb-coated fingers squeezing her shoulder. “Welcome to the club, Shoko.”

She stared at him, then down at his hand. “What club?”

He leaned in, and his sunglasses dropped low on the bridge of his nose. “Club Rejects.”

“Get off me.”

Chapter Text

“Getou,” a light voice floated into the room, and Suguru looked up from his desk. His eyes were starting to blur together the numbers from the newest quarterly contribution report. Looked like funding was down 7% over the last three months.

“Yes, Manami?” he asked just as lightly, keeping the strain from his voice. He wasn’t due any more appointments for the day, so maybe she was just here to drag him out of his office before his brain melted. Sometimes, Suguru really believed the Time Vessel Association would fall apart without Suda Manami.

He’d only found her a year ago, and already he understood how vital she was to his organization, to his plan. A world without non-sorcerers was one he could finally breathe in. Thankfully, she shared that ideal wholeheartedly.

Manami curled a wavy lock of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear, but the pouty frown on her lips tipped him off that something was wrong. She was always so put together, looking as professional as any CEO’s secretary would be in the monkey world, but she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve.

He tilted his head, hoping his easy smile would mollify her somewhat. “What is it, Manami?”

She sighed, blowing the new bangs she was trying out from her eyes. “I told him to leave, Getou, but he rudely stated he wasn’t budging ‘til he saw you.”

Suguru’s smile dropped. Even their highest-paying benefactor knew better than to throw their weight around. Manami had full permission to use her cursed technique against any monkey that dared oppose her—so it was very rare that that ever happened.

Which only meant that a curse-user was here to see him. Getou didn’t need to know the name of this new visitor to know this was going to be a long, tedious meeting. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Looked like another late night at the office.

“I can try sending him aw—”

Suguru cut her off with a wave. “It’s okay. Tell Nanako and Mimiko to have dinner without me.”

She appeared to not like that order, but she nodded and bowed lightly. “As you wish. I’ll let him in.”

Suguru spent the next few moments organizing his work station and pondering on just who could possibly need to see him so urgently that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He was missing dinner with his girls because of this, but he didn’t let himself think about that too much or he was going to end the person’s life as soon as they entered his office. That could be bad for business.

When that person stepped through the doorway, he realized that move would have been really bad for business. He stood up with a tight smile that didn’t do much to hide his disdain for the man before him.

“Zenin Naoya, what a pleasant surprise.” They both knew it was not.

Naoya kept up the ruse and smiled cordially, though his eyes were as cold as ever. He was feeling positively victorious right now, and that was the only reason he was bothering to smile at all. “The pleasant surprises are just getting started, Getou Suguru.”

Naoya had known since this morning that the twins wouldn’t be found at the school in Tokyo, not after he’d so blatantly threatened Gojo the night before. Neutral ground or not, the man wasn’t as idiotic as he’d like the world to believe. Still, he knew he had to have sent Satoru scrambling after The Hei showed up to search the property the very next morning with authorization from Jujutsu Headquarters. His father, Naobito, of course had connections with the Higher-Ups. So would Gojo, if he ever bothered to use them, but no. The man had placed himself on an untouchable pedestal where the Higher-Ups were nothing more than mere ants to him. That’s why they hated him, and that’s exactly why they allowed his father to send in the Zenin forces.

As soon as it was reported that Satoru was seen on the campus, Naoya had immediately filed a missing person’s report for the twins. Gojo hadn’t stayed very long, but Naoya hadn’t needed him to. The fact he was there at all was suspicious. With a bit of monetary pushing and calling on long-standing connections with several Ministers of State, Tokyo police officers were sent out in droves and the news channels were reporting on the case within the hour. The girls’ faces were plastered all over TV’s everywhere, so there was nowhere they could run without the public noticing them. The children were identical twins, after all. How rare was that?

Naoya had stuck around Tokyo just in case news cropped up, but when it was clear Satoru had managed to find some hole to crawl into, he’d gotten on the Shinkansen to Kyoto before boarding the JR line to Nara. That dumb blonde was closing the doors when he arrived at the Star Religious Group’s church base, and he’d only gotten her to let him in under threat of force.

Getou looked mildly surprised, though Naoya knew from all the rumors that Suguru had always been the more reserved—and now more guarded—of the two “strongest.” This was just for show, to placate Naoya. “Is that so? I suppose we should do away with the pleasantries then and get straight to the point.”

Well, if that was what he wanted, then get to the point he would. He leaned forward, cat-like eyes gleaming. “Gojo Satoru recently came into possession of two Zenin girls. We want them back, and we’re asking you for your cooperation in assisting us.”

At the mention of Gojo Satoru, Getou stilled. His tight smile was back. “As reclusive as the Zenin Clan is, I’m still surprised you haven’t heard of my defection. Gojo Satoru and I no longer run in the same circles.”

Ah, Getou was angry. They were currently sitting in the Time Vessel Association’s headquarters. Of course, Naoya knew of Getou’s defection. He wouldn’t have had to travel nearly three hours by bullet train to get here if that wasn’t the case. So, he was insulting his intelligence for his audacity in bringing up a name that was as good as dead to him.

Naoya’s smile dropped, as well as all of his pretenses. Though the two strongest were no longer friends, they were both similar in just how infuriating they were to talk to. “Everyone knows of your defection, Getou. Word spread like the fires you set to that village, and everyone’s got the order to kill you on sight.”

“And yet, here you are, coming to me to do your political dirty work.”

“It’s not political, it’s purely principle. Those twins are ours—”

“Don’t insult me in my own office, Zenin.” Getou’s smile dropped as well, and the air seemed to chill around where they were sitting. “We both know you don’t give a damn about children, and Satoru might be an idealistic and stubborn fool, but he doesn’t make a habit of stealing children.”

“How can you say that after he intervened in the deal with the Ten Shadows kid?”

“Who do you think tipped him off? It was none other than the boy’s father.”

Naoya sat back in his chair, miffed that he hadn’t actually known that. His father must have, though. He sneered. “You know him so well, do you? Even after all these years?”

Suguru waved those questions away with a flick of his hand. His expression was all business now. The fake emotions he wore to placate everyone around him had bled away into the cold contempt he reserved for non-sorcerers. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because you can’t pin him down. You don’t know what his next move is, where he’ll go, who’s involved, or what connections he has. So, why don’t you tell me what makes these children so valuable that you’re willing to risk not only the Gojo Clan’s retaliation but mine as well?”

“You would go against us?”

“For wasting my time? I’ve killed people for less. You’re making me miss out on dinner with my family.”

Naoya wrinkled his nose as if the notion of family disgusted him. It likely did. “Fine then, but before I do, there’s something interesting you might like to hear. It’s relative to the Zenin girls Satoru’s currently got a hold of.”

Suguru fiddled with the edge of some paperwork, listening although already inclined to believe nothing Naoya said would be all that interesting. He let him speak, though. Naoya leaned forward, and the air around them shifted once again.

“Zenin Toji was once a twin.”

“What do you mean you don’t own a rice cooker?” Shoko was beside herself. Never in her life had she ever come across someone without a rice cooker. It was like a rite of passage to living on your own. Even she, stuffed in the tiny Jujutsu High dorms, owned a rice cooker. It was essential to every Japanese person.

Tsumiki looked embarrassed. Megumi looked bored. “I’m not the best cook,” the older sibling explained, “but I’m really good at baking … so, I’ve just tried to stick with what I’m good at.”

“I like her melon bread,” Megumi offered unhelpfully.

Shoko peered around the kitchen, but the pantry was empty and the cupboards were barren. “What do you do about food? You can’t just eat baked stuff all the time.” By the look on Megumi’s face, that seemed to have been an option at one point.

“We usually just order out or get convenience store food,” he grumbled.

From the slim pickings in their fridge, that indeed looked to be the case. Shoko felt the need to breathe deeply and slowly, but she whirled on Gojo as soon as he walked through the threshold with an obnoxious sigh. She’d made him go back to the hotel and bring the girls’ clothes after all, and now she was about to lay into him.

“Satoru,” she called lightly, gaining the man’s attention. “Here’s a cookie for all your hard work.” This one was chocolate chip.

Smile brightening, Satoru went to reach for the treat only to gasp in horror as Shoko crumbled it in her fist. The crumbs fell to the dirty floor.

“Go get these kids a rice cooker and anything else you think they might need to cook a basic meal. Now.” Her words were a low whisper, a tone Satoru rarely heard.

He snapped into action, saluting her improperly with a “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” before he blinked out of existence.

Shoko turned and didn’t miss Megumi’s mouth hanging open. She’d clearly just earned his respect. Not like it was hard when her only competition was a man-child. It boiled her blood that Satoru had been walking around telling everyone he was responsible for two kids when said kids lived like this.

When she first walked into the apartment, a dim hallway greeted her with a buzzing light that flickered through the haze of dead bugs gathered in the bulb. The faded, pink-tiled bathroom off to the right was a wet-room the size of a closet with the sink in the toilet’s back tank and a shallow tub that could fit a person if they sat with their knees to their chest. The bedroom to the left was small, but the two futons that had been left out were shoved up against the walls, allowing a small walk space in between. Through the hall, the living room was by far the biggest space in the apartment, but the single window Maki and Mai were curiously peering out of made it look like a cave. The only seating options were around the kotatsu, and Shoko eyed the thin blanket that wasn’t meant for it worriedly. The small TV was mounted on the wall, but the gaming consoles and speakers were propped up on cardboard boxes. The kitchen was … small. The coffee bar at the hotel was bigger. The dining room was completely non-useable as it was mostly taken up by boxes of stuff that wouldn’t fit in the meager closet space.

Though she had never seen their first apartment, they were still far removed from any of the luxuries Gojo could provide for them. It didn’t matter if Megumi didn’t want to live in a fancy, ¥150,000 apartment, Satoru could have at least provided him with a freakin’ rice cooker. She knew that gaming console hadn’t been cheap.

Screw this, I’m calling Utahime anyway.

But first, Shoko was going to make them something to eat that wasn’t a dessert, convenient, or deliverable. She knew just what to cook, too.

“Tsumiki, help me out in the kitchen. Megumi, go beat Maki in a few rounds of video games.”

The seven-year-old appeared confused. “You don’t want me to go easy on her?”

Shoko was already scrolling through her recents, prepared to send Satoru a grocery list while he was out. “No, because failure will bring out her competitive streak. If Mai wants to play, then yeah, maybe go easy on her. But decimate Maki.” It was out of love that Shoko was doing this. Mai would cry, but Maki was going to get so mad that she’d end up beating Megumi by the end of the night. She was willing to bet money on it.

Megumi shrugged before heading over to the TV and turning on the PlayStation 3. Tsumiki was already rummaging around in the galley kitchen and pulling out aprons. She handed Shoko an off-white one with a fat, sleeping calico cat on the breast pocket. Tsumiki had a pink one with ruffled frills all around the border.

Cute.

She tied the apron strings and stepped into the tight space. A large pass-through window with a ledge could have been useful if the dining room wasn’t overtaken, but it at least allowed for extra cupboard space up above. “All right, tell me what we have to work with.”

Not that the extra space was filled with anything. A half-empty, sticky bottle of soy sauce, a dusty container where rice should have been, and some packets of instant ramen were all that greeted her. No seaweed packs, no miso, spices, rice wine, or vinegar. She’d already established the fridge to be empty …

Her speed-dial finger itched. Whether to call Satoru and chew him out and serve him for dinner or to call up Utahime and rat him out anyway.

She bridled her ire and called the lanky man-child. If she was going to serve up some shogayaki, she was going to need a lot more than this kitchen offered. She was also going to get him to buy some storage bins, closet organizers, vacuum-seal bags, and an actual kotatsu blanket. And if he complained one incy-wincy bit … well.

May his soul rest in pieces.

Naoya stepped off the train car in Kyoto with a sigh. A weight he’d felt building on his shoulders was gone. He was a free man. The Hei would continue to search without him at the helm, and Getou and his entire, delusional organization would be in charge of getting Satoru out of the way. Hopefully, they’d both kill each other in the process.

But then, getting the twins back would be a moot point. No matter.

“Zenin Toji was once a twin.”

Naoya couldn’t believe his luck. Getou had laughed. Joyously, uproariously laughed at the opportunity to ensure Gojo wouldn’t be able to interfere with his aspirations for a new world. With him under his thumb, what sorcerer could stop him? He had listened to the Zenins’ plans and had stared at Naoya with such surprise, the clan heir had known it wasn’t a facade. Then he’d started chuckling, and then it had just devolved into near convulsions. When Naoya offered to fund his arbitrary vision as remuneration, the man had bowled over.

“I’ll need assurance that this plan of yours will work,” he had said after he collected himself, though his grin had never faded. “How can you be so sure?”

Naoya had waved away his concerns. “There’s an entire catalogue of all past data from the Toji case I can send to your secretary by tonight. You can review the process for yourself.”

Suguru’s smile had calmed, but there was a light in his dark eyes that Naoya recognized. “I’ll agree to this deal as long as you agree to a pact.”

“I wouldn’t leave here without one.”

And Getou had laughed all over again. Naoya knew what that was like. To feel that rush in the veins that sent shivers down the spine. The promise of power, the surety of a fool-proof plan, the feeling that nothing was going to get in the way. If Getou got them the girls back then his non-sorcerer world was as sure as all the sins he’d commit in its process.

A long growl interrupted his musings, and along with a twinge of pain in his gut, Naoya realized it had been several hours since he’d eaten anything. Train food wasn’t up to his delicate palate, but thankfully Kyoto was an area much preferred over Tokyo when it came to cuisine, tradition, basically everything. It wasn’t as beautiful as Niigata, but it would do.

He quickly hailed a cab and demanded the best restaurants in the area. Happy to oblige, the old man began babbling on. However, it was as his taxi driver was trying to talk him into trying an Italian and Japanese fusion restaurant that something other than food caught his attention.

A flash of red hakama, the swish of white kosode. They were in the city of Kyoto. The sight was almost normal.

But a Zenin knew an Iori when he saw one. Especially when that Iori was a former classmate of Gojo Satoru …

“Stop the car.”

To say Shoko was feeling overwhelmed would be an understatement. The kitchen was tiny, and every available space (even the pass-through ledge) was taken up with ingredients, plates, bowls, utensils, pots, and pans. Tsumiki kept walking in front of her, bumping into her by accident, and apologizing over and over again even when she didn’t do anything. Maki was screaming in the living room, Mai was cheering, and Gojo was goading Megumi one moment then rooting for him the next.

All while she was being bombarded with memories of when her mother taught her how to make this dish.

“Cut the pork thin, Shoko, thin! Yes, good job!”

“Onions must be sautéed until translucent. No, that’s not done yet.”

“The secret to making the family ginger sauce recipe is extra sake—don’t give me that look!”

Shoko swallowed the onslaught of emotions that wanted to well up inside her as she poured the secret Ieiri family ginger sauce over the caramelized onions and the pork slices sizzling in the pan. “Check the timer for the squash,” she said to Tsumiki, dishing out the food on the final plate.

She heard rustling behind her. “We have two minutes left.”

“Good enough. Go ahead and start scooping some out. I’ll get the rice.”

With Tsumiki’s help, they brought out large (brand new) dinner plates piled high with shogayaki, simmered kabocha squash and steaming rice made by the kids’ new rice cooker.

The racing game was paused immediately, and everyone turned as the smell that had been wafting into every nook and cranny of the house intensified. Megumi looked like his eyes were glowing. Maki and Mai equally looked as though they hadn’t eaten in days. Gojo, even, looked famished.

“Shoko!” he gasped as the plate was set down in front of him. “I didn’t know you cooked!” He was positively squished at the kotatsu—now sporting a thick comforter—with all the kids crowded around him.

Shoko leaned against the wall before sliding down it when her legs threatened to give out. “I only know how to cook this one meal.”

“If you make this every day, I’ll eat it,” Megumi said around a mouthful of rice.

Shoko snorted. That was probably the highest compliment anyone was ever going to get out of that kid. “I taught Tsumiki how to make it.”

The Fushiguros shared a look, and a small smile stretched out over Megumi’s face. It was utterly endearing. She had to look away before the emotions she’d been battling all evening resurfaced with a vengeance. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep over the last few days, so her mental walls were weak.

Her eyes couldn’t stay away long, though, and they slowly drifted over the quietly munching children. Giggles erupted when Satoru got some rice stuck to his face and tried to get it with his tongue. Mai tried to swipe Maki’s onions, but Maki retaliated by stealing some of her sister’s squash. Megumi kept looking at Tsumiki’s rice, and the girl said nothing as she slowly pushed her plate over to him.

Shoko couldn’t help the smile that wound up on her face. It took her back. It took her to the simpler times, back before she was a doctor. Before high school and before she, Gojo, and Getou terrorized the campus. Before she was dropped off at the school grounds by her uncle whose name she can’t remember. Before her father went to jail. Before her mom walked away, crawled back, left again, never making up her mind. Before the drinking, the screaming, the fighting, the black eyes and bruises, the slaps across the face, the broken fingers and empty stomachs. Back before Shoko realized she could heal her own injuries. Back before there were any injuries at all.

Back when Shoko needed a step stool to help her mother pour the Ieiri ginger sauce over the pork slices. Back when she would carry her father’s plate, by herself, over to their own kotatsu and eat as a family. Where someone would giggle when rice was stuck to their face. Or when her mama tried swiping onions off her dad’s plate. Or when her dad slid Shoko the rest of his rice.

“Shoko, stop stuffing your face.”

“Honey, pass me the squash.”

“You’re going to turn into squash at this rate.”

“Shoko, pass your plate over.”

“Shoko, do you want more rice?”

“Shoko, eat your onions.”

“Shoko.”

“Shoko!”

She blinked, and it dawned on her that everyone at the table was staring at her. “Wha—” She cleared her throat when her voice cracked. “What?”

Satoru tilted his head much like a puppy’s. “Aren’tcha hungry?”

“Hmm?” She looked down at her lap as if she had a plate waiting for her. She did not. “Uh, no, not really. I’ll eat later.” She stood up and aimed her best smile at Maki and Mai who were staring at her. “I’m gonna go call Utahime.”

“Put in a good word for me!” Satoru called to her, mouth still full. She sent him a thumbs-up as she walked out the door.

The stairwell was chilly, but the rooftop was even more bitter as the breeze whipped by. In the distance, lightning lit up the sky over the city, but the thunder was hardly audible. The air was damp, but the bench near the railings was dry so it hadn’t rained any. She slid her fingers into her new, fur-lined boot—courtesy of Mei Mei (and Gojo technically)—and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. After the past few days, she felt like she’d done a good job holding off.

But she really needed one now. She hadn’t expected all the memories from her childhood to bum rush her over a simple dinner.

She inhaled the smoke and sighed out a breath of air visible in the dark night. Satoru liked to tease her for having black lungs, but her RCT was already healing her body without her conscious thought. With each inhale, it was soothing the lining of her nose and esophagus. With each exhale, it was replacing all the good bacteria in her mouth that had just died. It was pumping collagen into her skin, driving oxygen into her blood, and sending fibroblasts, endothelial cells, and macrophages to her lungs to repair the damaged tissue.

It was different for other people. She had to mentally engage her technique to heal, so it was vital she understood the human body as well as she did. She couldn’t heal what she didn’t understand, but Shoko had been healing her own body since she was …

She swallowed and hastily took another drag off her cigarette. Since she was Maki and Mai’s age, she’d been healing her bruises, her black eyes, her knocked-out teeth, her broken fingers. Her pinky had healed wrong because she just didn’t know how to set it correctly, but rather than rebreak it and fix it, she left it as a reminder.

You can’t heal what you don’t understand.

So, when she hid under her bed during her father’s drunken rages, she stayed up late reading medical books. By the time she was twelve, she was reading college-level textbooks borrowed from the local library. By the time she was enrolled in Jujutsu High, she had enough medical knowledge to own several degrees.

She glanced down at her phone. Speaking of degrees, the workaholic student she knew and loved should be free to take her call. She still hadn’t told her she’d decided to stay with the girls—at least until they didn’t need her anymore. She didn’t know how long that would be, but the thought had her drawing on the cigarette between her lips.

The phone rang, drowning out the distant cracks of thunder that were still too far away to worry about. She got so lost watching the lightning web across the dark skies that she didn’t realize until the voicemail was playing that Utahime hadn’t answered. Her brows pinched, and she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up before the beep could sound.

“Huh,” she murmured and drew her knees up to her chest. The cigarette between her fingers had burned down to the filter, so she flicked it onto the cracking rooftop tiles. Her phone buzzed, and she put it up to her ear without looking.

“Hey—”

“Shoko,” Yaga panted through the speaker. “You’re needed at the school.”

Shoko was on her feet before she realized what she was doing. The door to the rooftop slammed behind her as she jogged down to the second floor. “What’s going on?”

“An emergency. I don’t know if she’s going to make it.”

Satoru was passed out when she walked into the apartment as well as Tsumiki and Mai. Maki and Megumi had resumed their video game. They turned at the sound of her shoes drawing near them, but she didn’t have time to worry about taking them off.

“I’m going back to the school. Stay here,” she announced, shoving at Gojo’s shoulder at the same time. “Wake up, we’re leaving.”

Satoru jerked awake, and his Infinity activated immediately. “Huh? What? W’as goin’ on?”

“An emergency at the school.”

“Is Gojo there?”

“Yeah, he’ll be dropping me off.”

“Good. I’m going to need him. Bastard wasn’t answering his phone.”

“A Special Grade?” she guessed. Whoever was on her operating table, they were lucky to still be alive if that was the case.

“Yes. And Shoko?”

She was pulling Gojo to his feet, and she felt marginally bad for the sleepy look in his eyes. They were both in for a long night. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

Shoko blew out a sigh as she breathed in the fresh mountain air. Hachioji was beautiful in the fall, and while she never visited the city, she heard it was nice there too. It was a shame she couldn’t appreciate the views fully considering her eyes were dry and sore. She had to force her own body to not use her RCT, knowing sleep would fix the issue, but she didn’t think she had any left at this point anyway. Not after the night she had.

Semi-Grade 1 Sorcerer Fujiwara Kumiko died on her operating table at 2:57 AM. She’d been in the same class as Nanami and Haibara. Had shiny, black hair she often kept in a braid. Big doe eyes. Freckles mostly on the left side of her face—something she was so self-conscious about. Shoko had seen her around a lot, and their small conversations were often light-hearted, if not completely entertaining. She’d had the biggest crush on Getou.

Shoko would indulge her half-hearted fantasies only to turn around and talk shit about both him and Gojo, and Kumiko would laugh out loud. Unrestrained. Responding in kind about how two of the handsomest men in the field could have such trash personalities.

Her fingers itched to pull out a cigarette, but she resisted the idea. She didn’t want to crawl into bed—the same bed the girls were probably sleeping in—smelling like an ashtray. She pulled out her phone instead and messaged Nitta to come pick her up. Satoru had texted her throughout the morning, trying to distract her, and maybe even using her to distract himself. She knew Getou hadn’t shown up on the site of the Special Grade case. Otherwise, everyone in the world could have tried getting in contact with Satoru, and he would have given the world the middle finger.

But, there he was, sending her GIFs of cats instead. Utahime had even messaged her sometime throughout the night, apologizing for the missed call and that she would be free all day today. Shoko didn’t bother responding. Uta might be free, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate being texted at 5:30 in the morning.

The black sedan pulled around, and Shoko pocketed her phone. Nita drove her to the train station, not bothering to ask her where she was staying or why she wasn’t sleeping at the dorms (for which she was thankful), and from there she took the hour-long train to Saitama.

She rested her head against the glass and watched the scenery blur by. She could feel every bump and shift of the ride down to her bones. Her skin felt tight. She was cold, but not the kind of cold that a jacket could fix. Her eyes felt like they were stuck in their sockets. Her mind kept wandering.

The last time she’d seen Kumiko, it was around two months ago. She had long moved on from Getou and was stuck on finding a date. She didn’t care what anyone else thought, she wanted to get married and have some kids. She’d been almost desperate enough to use the Fujiwara name to get her a contract marriage with another clan. But Shoko had at least managed to talk her out of that. She couldn’t talk her out of Nanami Kento, though, even when the man ditched Jujutsu High for a desk job in the business world.

“The next time I see you, you think I’ll have gotten Kento to give me a chance? Ooh, you think if we had kids, they’d get his blond hair? What do you mean no? That’s no fun …”

Shoko had thought she was so stupid. Raising children? In their line of work?

But now … now a part of her felt like she understood Kumiko a little better. As much as she wanted to just give up and melt into the train seat, become one with the cheap plastic, she knew she wouldn’t truly relax until she’d checked in on the girls, made sure they were safe and sound, and crawled into their rolled out futon.

Her mind wandered to last night. Maki had been so determined to beat Megumi. Mai had gotten comfortable enough to slide up to Gojo, and together they tried to out-cheer each other in their support for the opposing players. Tsumiki had been so sweet.

She’d want to come home to that everyday too. Even on the days where she just wanted peace and quiet. Even on the days she just wanted to sleep in, or drink all night, or go out with friends until the morning hours. Even when she felt so overwhelmed by all the noise, all the clutter, all the bodies walking around. Even when it brought forth a rush of memories she’d rather not think about.

She knew she’d trade it all in for a night like last night.

The train came to a stop, and Shoko sighed. Dragging herself to her feet felt like a chore, but the crisp, morning air she breathed into her lungs helped snap the world into clearer focus.

Clear enough to realize she didn’t know where in Saitama she was temporarily living. The headache she’d been pushing off by sheer force of will surged to the forefront of her brain. She pulled out her phone and frowned at the low-battery warning she got.

^{Send me the address of the apartment. Sent 6:43AM}

She was banking on Satoru’s usually quick response time to see her home before the battery died. He pinged her right away, and she sighed in relief. The cab she hailed a moment later only drove about fifteen minutes before they were pulling up to the building.

“Keep the change,” she muttered sleepily as she stepped out.

The sidewalk was packed with morning commuters, but Shoko paid no attention to the masses. Slipping through the crowd, she strolled up to the building’s side door and tried to ignore the chill of the dark alley. Her fingers grasped the doorknob, but a hand clamped over her mouth before she could twist.

Adrenaline struck through her body like lightning, flinging sleep to the side so she could slam her elbow back into the chest of her assailant. Their gasp was sharp in her ear. She threw her head forward and snapped it back as hard as she could, smashing her skull into their nose.

Shoko may have been the weakest out of the three, but that did not mean Shoko was weak.

They know.

Have to get inside. Have to get the girls.

Satoru!

Her assailant screamed. Blood gushed from their nose. A shadow on her right had her whirling around—

Her arms were seized from behind. Her foot slid back against the gravel, throwing them off balance as she ducked and twisted out of their hold. She was free to grab the back of their knees and yank. As they hit the ground, her hair was grabbed tight by the scalp. A hand went over her mouth, a cloth shoved under her nose.

The smell of Desflurane was strong. She stopped herself from breathing in the fumes and slid her foot back behind her assailant’s leg. Her head snapped back again into their face. Pain exploded behind her eyelids. Her lungs screamed. She needed air.

Her RCT kicked in against her will.

Excess carbon dioxide was essentially a poison in the lungs. Her RCT worked to split the CO2 into pure oxygen molecules and pure carbon monoxide molecules. Oxygen was essential for the lungs to work. Carbon Monoxide—in small doses—was beneficial and could be utilized in defending the tissue from oxidative stress and preventing cell death. Basically …

Shoko didn’t need to breathe to breathe.

The grip around her mouth slackened from the impact, just enough for her to rip away from their hold. She kicked out her leg and felt them tumble and fall behind her. She rounded on them but tripped over the uneven, cobbled path. The hard rocks bit into her knees as she hit the ground, ripping a cry from her mouth. She gasped and struggled to stand, but her body was starting to get sluggish. Her mind was slowing down. She’d had five hours of broken sleep over the last three days. She’d just used up the very last of her RCT.

Her body was shutting down.

No. Not now. Not now!

“SHOKO!”

That was Mai. Mai. The edges of her vision darkened, but she pulled herself to her feet with a growl. Her breathing was uneven. Her sight was doubling. Someone was holding two Makis and two Mais. The girls were screaming as hard as their little lungs would allow.

“Let them go—” Her words were snatched away as her head was yanked back from a cruel grip around her throat.

A fountain of blood erupted from the guy in front of her, and Maki and Mai screeched in horror as they were dropped. A gruesome schluck sounded right behind her. Shoko felt the fingers around her throat squeeze before they slackened, and she gasped as her knees gave out on her. Another scream, further behind her, sent chills skittering down her spine.

Maki. Mai.

Her head lolled up. A person draped in large robes stood at the mouth of the alley. The sun lit up the streets behind them, casting them in shadows as dark as the long hair that billowed in the breeze.

Shoko recognized him immediately, but the words she wanted to say never got to leave her mouth before the world finally faded to black.

Gojo leaned to the side with a big smile and threw up a peace sign, snapping the picture of him posing right in front of Hokkaido-jingu Shrine. Right after that, he sneezed and shivered. Snow was already on the ground in Sapporo, which wasn’t that rare, but how he wished it could have waited another month.

He’d been sent out on a wild goose chase trying to find a Special Grade in the Hokkaido mountains. Some girl from Nanami’s class was sent in first—which was already a red flag. Semi-Grade 1 or not, all Special Grades were supposed to be filtered through Satoru first. Not whoever was available and then, if that didn’t work, send in the big guns. Sorcerers were hot commodities, and Jujutsu Headquarters couldn’t afford to waste what little resources they had. If Gojo thought someone else could handle it, he’d pass the buck.

And whatever Special Grade curse that had terrorized the mountain villages and inflicted a mortal wound on the Fujiwara girl had up and disappeared. Not even his eyes, from a vantage point high in the sky, could see where the curse had slithered off to. Another red flag.

Had Getou slipped in, collected the curse, and dipped? No. Not possible. Out of everyone in the world, Satoru would always be able to sense whenever Suguru was nearby.

Well, there was nothing he could do about this now. Hence the tourist-y, pit stop photo he was already sending to Utahime. Shoko wasn’t answering her phone anymore, so she had to be passed out. Considering that woman just pulled an all-nighter using her RCT, Satoru wouldn’t be surprised if she was in one of those disturbing coma-sleeps he could never wake her up from.

^{Guess where I am?}

^{[MMS; IMAGE] Sent 9:03AM}

^{How are you allowed to be on sacred ground? 🙄 Received 9:04AM}

^{What do you take me for? A curse? Sent 9:04AM}

^{Yes Received 9:04AM}

^{I could always be a zenin instead Sent 9:05AM}

^{[GIF; burning house] Sent 9:05AM}

^{I hate you Received 9:06AM}

^{Is Shoko with you? Received 9:06AM}

^{No why Sent 9:06AM}

^{I called her this morning but her phone went straight to vm Received 9:07AM}

^{Prolly asleep. You can call me instead! Sent 9:07AM}

^{I’d rather die Received 9:08AM}

Satoru snickered and pocketed his phone. Utahime was so into him.

Another gust of bitter wind stole his giant grin, and he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. How Hime had survived this frozen hell was beyond him. Maybe he should really stop calling her weak if this is what she grew up around.

Nah.

He rubbed his hands together and admitted he was calling it quits for today. The Higher-Ups could kiss his ass. The Special Grade was gone, and if it popped back up, he’d come exorcise it then. But it was time to get back to Megumi’s little hovel and pass the hell out. Maybe he could convince Shoko to cook up more shogayaki when they woke up.

“Okay!” He swung his hands out wide before they flew back together, and the clap echoed like a boom of thunder just as he teleported out of Hokkaido.

He made a few pit stops along the way to Saitama—his powers weren’t that OP (at least not yet)—before he landed in the apartment’s living room.

Immediately, he knew something was wrong.

Tsumiki was sobbing uncontrollably by the window. Megumi was hunched in on himself by the kotatsu, a thousand-yard stare in his gaze.

“What happened?”

His hard tone snapped both children out of it, and Tsumiki ran to him while wiping her tears away. “Maki and Mai and Shoko—they were taken. I saw it happen, but I couldn’t stop them!”

He turned to Megumi. The boy was staring at him, and it was hard to miss the shame that wrapped around him like a cloak. “What else happened?”

Megumi glared at the floor. “I couldn’t summon my shikigami. I tried. I—I thought I could save—” He cut himself off and looked away. Satoru stepped over to him, knelt down low, and clapped his hands on the boy’s small shoulders. Tears were visible in his dark eyes.

“You couldn’t have saved Shoko even if you did summon your shikigami.” The words were harsh, but Satoru never minced words when it came to Megumi. It wouldn’t help him. He wouldn’t grow, evolve, survive if Satoru went easy on him. His feelings were also not a priority at the moment. “What did you see?”

Megumi took a deep breath and quickly wiped at his face. His gaze was determined as he looked into Satoru’s illuminated eyes. “I saw three men wearing masks over their faces. One barged into the house and grabbed Maki and Mai. Tsumiki and I ran out after them, but then we saw Shoko fighting off the other two. That’s when I—when I tried …” He shook his head and sucked in another large breath of air. His failure was still bitter on his tongue. “I couldn’t do it, but when I looked back up I saw that Shoko was on the ground and that the three attackers were dead. A new man showed up and killed them.”

Satoru tried to bridle his rage. He had to keep his cool in front of the kids. His voice remained firm as he asked, “What did he look like?”

Megumi swallowed nervously. Guess he hadn’t kept the anger out of his eyes. He really should have worn his bandages last night. “He was wearing these weird robes. Like a monk. But he wasn’t bald. He had long hair. It was black, I think.”

The more Megumi spoke, the more furious Satoru became. Betrayal was an emotion he didn’t think he’d feel again so soon, yet it gurgled hot in his stomach and shot up to the back of his throat. Like bile, it made him want to retch.

He stood stiffly to his feet. “Don’t leave the house. I’ll be back.”

Then he was gone. And he knew exactly where he was going.

Shoko being involved changed everything. He hadn’t even been aware she was part of the mess Satoru and the Zenins had stirred up. It never crossed his mind, and who could blame him? He never would have guessed her to take responsibility for two eight-year-old children. To fight off three of the Kukuru Unit for them. It was so …

Not Shoko.

She was so nihilistic, even in their younger days. He’d found it charming, in a sense, that life could turn her upside down and she’d smile and walk on the ceiling. Nothing fazed her. Nothing mattered. If it didn’t entertain her, or make her laugh, or interest her, she’d walk away. It was why she never complained when Yaga shoved her off onto him and Satoru all the time, hoping she’d change them for the better only to regret it when she encouraged their misbehavior.

It was why he thought he stood a chance of bringing her with him when he defected. That day in Shinjuku, he’d taken a chance. And she’d called him childish. He watched her giggle, lips working around a cigarette effortlessly, but the shine in her eyes was gone. He was dead to her. She didn’t even look at him when she hung up the phone after tattling to Gojo about where he was. He could have killed her right then and there, and she dared him to without saying a word.

He stared down at her prone form and frowned. Even in her sleep, she gravitated toward the two unconscious children he’d dumped beside her. Like one big, happy family. They looked so cozy huddled together in the rolled out futon he’d set out for them.

The decorative fusuma slid open, and two curious heads peeked inside. Suguru peered over his shoulder, and his whole body relaxed. A soft smile played over his lips, and he unfolded his arms and held out his hand. Instantly, Nanako and Mimiko ran up to him and clutched onto his robes as they stared down at the new guests.

“Who are they, Getou?” Mimiko whispered, careful not to wake them up.

Getou wasn’t worried about that. Shoko’s body and mind were on mere fumes by the time he revealed himself, and the girls he had knocked out cold himself. It was the only way they’d stop screaming and crying out for Shoko to save them. “The woman’s an old friend of mine.”

“She’s pretty,” Nanako observed.

“And them?” Mimiko pointed to the twins.

Getou tilted his head, and a sigh left his lips. “For now? Collateral.”

Nanako tugged on his robes. “What does that mean?”

He smiled down at her and patted her head, grin widening at the sound of her giggle. “Don’t worry about it. Have you guys had breakfast?”

“I want tamagoyaki!” Mimiko shouted in excitement only to freeze and clap her hands over her mouth. Shoko and the girls didn’t even twitch.

Suguru herded them out of the room. “Let’s get you tamagoyaki then.” He pulled the panel doors together but paused just before they could shut. Through the crack, he watched Shoko continue to sleep peacefully. She would hate him when she woke up, but for now he could pretend the last few years never happened. That she was just sleeping in. That when she woke up, she’d come bug him and Satoru while still half-asleep. She’d ask to go to Shinjuku, her favorite spot, and she’d want to bum a lighter off him. If money was tight, he would share a single cigarette with her. Then she’d lay her hand on his chest when they were done, and she’d heal his lungs without a word.

His cell phone began to ring, and he made a face as he slid the doors closed. Judging by the number, the time for pretending was already over. He answered with a flat tone he only reserved for the monkeys of this world.

As he listened, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. The Time Vessel Association’s headquarters had been blasted out of existence. Well, it was a good thing he’d sent Manami a text about evacuation. Knowing her, everything was well taken care of.

“Getou!” Nanako hollered down the hall.

“Coming,” he called back, pocketing his phone with a sigh. So, it had already started.

Let the games begin, Satoru.

Chapter Text

Shoko hissed as consciousness returned to her. There was light somewhere in the room, so she buried her face into her pillow and groaned. What the hell did she drink to make her feel like this? Her mind was a chaotic blur of memories, vicious thoughts, and pain.

“Shoko?” a sharp whisper halted the mental barrage. Who was in her room?

Think, Shoko, it’s obviously one of the girls.

Girls, right. Maki or Mai.

One of them continued to whisper. “Shoko, where are we?”

She was glad they were being quiet. She had a killer headache.

“Shoko, please, wake up!”

She inhaled sharply and sat up, ready to go off on them, but her head reeled from the momentum and caused her to fall back flat. She groaned and scrubbed at her face, but her hands froze mid-action as everything came back to her like the rewind feature on a VHS tape. She gasped, and the sudden rush of air caused her to choke. She floundered around, looking for either of the twins, until her hand slapped down on a small knee. Her watery vision homed in on Mai shuffling near her, and she grabbed the girl and pulled her to her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

“Maki?” she croaked, eyes still unfocused.

“I’m right here,” a dull voice answered her.

She rubbed at her stinging eyes—how long had she even slept?—and found the girl a few feet away with her knees to her chest and staring vacantly at the floor. She situated Mai better on her lap and glanced around the room. The flooring was all tatami mats, and shoji doors lined one wall while fusuma sliding doors took up the adjacent wall. Built-in shelving would hold the one futon Shoko and the girls had shared, but there wasn’t anything else noteworthy in the room.

“Where are we?” she asked, though she doubted either twin would really know.

“Don’t know,” Maki replied somberly.

Shoko would feel a little somber too if she was kidnapped and dumped in an unfamiliar place—well, that was exactly what happened to her, but she wasn’t allowed to feel somber about any of this. She had to get these girls out of here before he came back. Maki didn’t have any more cursed energy than a non-sorcerer, so the fact Getou hadn’t killed her outright was a miracle.

A miracle, or something far worse.

She set Mai off her lap and climbed to her feet. She was still unsteady, and the room spun a few times as she stumbled to the shoji doors.

“Don’t bother,” Maki sighed, but she was gonna bother. Usually effort and Shoko didn’t go hand in hand, but sometimes she would grab effort by the throat and squeeze when she wanted something. And Shoko wanted out.

She threw the panels apart but gasped at the sight before her. Stepping one foot out would result in a forty-foot drop. Countless abandoned, concrete buildings surrounded them on all sides, and slowly nature was starting to reclaim them. Strong gusts of winds blew through the forgotten, industrial town, and any minute she felt it would be enough to send them all crumbling down into piles of rubble. Farther out, huge waves crashed violently up against the concrete seawall as dark, stormy skies raced overhead.

She slid the shoji doors shut before slowly sinking to her knees. Reality was an evil mistress cooing in her ear, telling her how they were all trapped on a deserted island with a mass murderer (who specifically hated non-sorcerers). Her cellphone was gone—and if she did find it, it was dead—and she was pretty sure they were inside a curse’s domain. The room’s interior was way too solid to be from any of the dilapidated buildings on the island.

Getou, as far she was aware, never developed his own domain expansion. He didn’t need to when he could simply spam different domains out of the curses he controlled. The max number of curses he could control while outside his body (not including his super-condensed Uzumaki technique) varied depending on the grade of the curses he had in his arsenal. Easily, he could control a thousand mindless, Grade 4 curses or five Special Grades at one time. So, it stood to reason one of his curses might very well be responsible for the surging storm going on around the island as well.

Leaving out the other sliding doors was probably just as pointless if they were in a domain. Effort had had enough of her abuse and was walking away, leaving Shoko to sprawl out lifelessly on the floor with a sigh. She wasn’t a brilliant strategist like Getou. She wasn’t stupidly strong like Gojo. Her luck wasn’t great like Utahime’s. All she was good for was memorizing body parts and healing them back from nothing.

That would not help her out here.

Mai crawled over and looked down at her with a quizzical expression. “What do we do now?”

Shoko blew a lock of hair out of her face. “We wait.” Getou would come around to them eventually. She didn’t know how she would feel about the situation because right now she was trying to wall off every emotion that tried to surface. Effort had left, remember? And it was with effort that allowed her to feel something rather than her default nothing.

Mai sighed, and it was like all the life had been scooped out of her. Shoko stared up into her eyes, and she saw the hints of honey and flecks of amber swirling around in the rich, coffee color. Surrounded by the thickest, darkest eyelashes, her innocence shined through so vividly. Her chubby cheeks dimpled around the pout she wore and it was so … it was so adorable.

Ah, who was she kidding? Her walls were about as sturdy as the concrete buildings all over the island.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Mai whispered, and her clear eyes blinked down at her.

Shoko could lie like a cat in the sun, but the fastest way to lose her trust in someone else was for them to deceive her. It was hypocritical, but when had the world ever been fair to her? But Maki and Mai didn’t deserve her lies. The world was going to deceive them enough, build them up just to tear them down without her having to lift a finger. If she was going to stay in their lives, she needed to be someone they could come to for the truth. Even if it was ugly.

“I don’t know.”

Mai began worrying her bottom lip, and Shoko thought she looked like a little bunny doing that. She lifted her hand, and a lone finger poked at the abused lip. Like a button was pushed, tears sprang to Mai’s eyes. Coffee was drowned in salt water as a sob suddenly escaped her.

Shoko’s eyebrows shot up high on her forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“I miss Youko-chan,” she wailed. Her tears kept falling even as Shoko sat up and gathered her in her arms. “I don’t wanna be here. I wanna go back to the hotel. I want to see Megumi and Tsumiki and play with them again. I wanna see them every day. I want to be normal and not have to hide all the time. It’s so stupid! I want to go to school. I want Gojo to come save us because he promised nothing bad would happen!” She hiccupped. “I want to stop running all the time. It’s not fair!”

Shoko laid her chin on the girl’s head and hummed, rocking her gently back and forth. “I know, kid. I know.”

“Gojo said we didn’t have anything to worry about,” Maki said under her breath, and the comment was full of bitter resentment.

“Don’t do that,” Shoko replied softly. She found Maki’s heated gaze and met it head on. “Gojo’s cocky, but he’s human. Everyone else treats him like a god, so he has to act like one, otherwise people won’t like him anymore. You know what it feels like when people don’t like you.”

Maki’s glare fell, and realization slowly took its place.

“He’s just one person. Don’t be mad at one of the only people on our side. He’s probably trying to search for us now.”

Mai had stopped sobbing, but she wouldn’t let Shoko go for anything. She did lean back enough to meet Shoko’s gaze. “Is he gonna save us?”

Shoko let herself smile. “Yeah. He’s gonna beat all the bad guys up, including the bad guy who’s keeping us here.” He just had to find them first.

Maki didn’t look convinced, but at least she didn’t seem so angry anymore. “Is the bad guy here … really strong?”

“We’re the strongest.”

Shoko looked away as Satoru’s words rang through her head. “Yeah. He’s really strong. But I don’t think he’ll kill us.” At least, he wouldn’t kill her. She fit the mold of his cruel, messed up world. And she would make the strongest, most impassioned case for Maki and Mai to be able to fit into that world too, just so they could all escape with their lives.

“How do you know?” Maki asked quietly. Shoko patted the space next to her, but the girl hesitated. She patted the space again, and reluctantly, Maki crawled over to her.

Only when she felt her lean against her side did she answer. “The man that’s keeping us here … a long time ago, he was my best friend.”

It hurt to admit that out loud. It was one thing to think it in your head because you could always push the thoughts away. You could always distract yourself. It didn’t matter if the thought loomed around every forced laugh, every tear shed, every late night. Shoko would always find a “happy distraction” that would take the edge off for a few months. And when that no longer worked, something else would take its place. Something that didn’t force her to confront the truth.

Maki stared at her incredulously. “He was your best friend? So, maybe—”

“We still have to be careful around him,” she cut her off. She wouldn’t sugarcoat the truth. Not when it came to Maki’s life. “He hates people who don’t have cursed energy. He calls them monkeys.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s stupid.”

Shoko snorted a laugh into Mai’s hair, though she hardly felt any joy in the action. “If it makes you feel better, my cursed energy is useless as a weapon. I only know how to use a reversed cursed technique, so I can’t hurt others or defend myself. I only heal people.”

Mai pulled back and stared up at her with eyes wide as saucers. “But you don’t need it because you fought off three people at once!”

Maki nodded. “I recognized their outfits. They were from the Kukuru Unit.”

That would explain why they didn’t use any cursed techniques.

Shoko pushed back a lock of Mai’s silky-soft hair behind her ear. “They probably weren’t trying to kill me since I’m the only known healer. They were most likely under the assumption I didn’t know how to fight, but in the sorcerer world, you have to be strong. If you’re not strong, you die.”

“I don’t want to die,” Maki whispered, and Mai nodded emphatically in agreement. “So, I’m gonna grow up and be like you.”

Those words caused a piercing sensation in her heart and stole her breath. She peered down at the girl, but Maki was staring at Mai with the most determined expression Shoko had ever seen. “Like me?”

Maki looked up at her and nodded. Her eyes were hard as steel, shoulders pulled back tight. “Yeah. You had to adapt to not having cursed energy, and you still were able to take on three of the Kukuru Unit! I’m gonna be just like you so I don’t have to rely on Gojo ever again!”

A guffaw left Shoko before she could help it, and she didn’t even bother correcting Maki over the fact that she did have cursed energy. She was too amused over Maki still being hung up over Gojo not saving them.

Mai punched her fist into the air. “And I’m gonna grow up to be stronger than Gojo so I can always save you!”

Shoko was clutching her chest as more of her laughter threatened to spill out into the open. “You’re going to be stronger than Gojo?”

“Yeah, I have cursed energy and I see curses.”

Maki rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean you’ll be as strong as Gojo.”

“That’s why I have to train!” Mai argued passionately.

“No one is as strong as Gojo,” Maki retorted. “Shoko said so.”

Mai deflated and looked at Shoko. “Is that true?”

Shoko’s laughter had ebbed, and she stared down at the two with a charmed smile. “Yes, he’s always been super strong. Unfortunately, he knew it so he was always so full of himself. But he messed up a lot when he was a first year.”

“He did?” both girls asked in surprise.

Rather than answer them directly, she leaned back on her palms and sighed. “When I was in school, there were only two other people in my class. I bet you can guess who one of them was.”

“Gojo!” Mai answered swiftly. Maki pursed her lips, clearly having known the answer and wanted to say it first.

“Mm-hmm. And the other person?”

Maki suddenly sat up straight and looked around like the walls had ears. Shoko wouldn’t be surprised if they were currently being spied on, and no amount of whispering would hide their conversation. Still, Maki lowered her voice. “The bad guy? The one you used to be friends with?”

Shoko nodded. “Yeah. Getou Suguru. They were both known as the strongest sorcerers. They fought all the time, but eventually they became the bestest friends. They would try to prove just who out of the two of them was stronger. And then there was me, the only sorcerer who could heal other people. But I was weak.”

Maki looked indignant on her behalf. “But you fought—!”

“That was after they taught me how to fight. You don’t get paired up with Getou and Gojo and not learn basic jujitsu. They used to bully me all the time.” She smiled at the memory, even if back then when the two of them ganged up on her she’d hurl insults so colorful that, had they been weapons, they would have pierced right through Gojo’s Infinity and struck him dead. Getou had no shield, but they’d still bounced off him, and he’d only stare down at her with his condescendingly sweet smile. “They only relented when I finally landed a hit on Getou.”

Rather than the cool, calm, and collected attitude she had expected to receive even after such a feat, she remembered seeing genuine surprise register on his face. He’d laughed. Boyishly. Just like when he and Gojo would get up to something and tell her “no girls allowed” before giggling like the brats they were. They were so stupid, both of them. But after that day, they’d started seeking her out. Like she had passed some initiation test and was now a part of their clique—as if she cared. But then it was no longer Gojo and Getou. It became Gojo and Getou and Shoko.

One time, the three of them stole Yaga’s car and took a midnight drive around Tokyo until the lights of the stars were exchanged for the lights of the city. With all the windows rolled down, Shoko had climbed over Getou and sat on the window ledge while he’d held onto her. Somehow, Gojo had been chosen as the driver, so it was a miracle none of them had died that night. They weren’t let off the hook for two whole months after that.

Another time, they stayed up late talking about their lives, where they grew up, what their dreams would be if they were allowed to have them, what a future with the strongest sorcerers ever would look like. And then when she’d gotten up to go to bed at God-thirty in the morning, they’d whined (both of them) that she should just stay. She passed out on their floor and woke up to Gojo’s foot on her stomach and Getou’s armpit in her nose. It was the only night she could remember getting decent sleep without having to force her body into shutdown or drink herself into oblivion.

Anyone who tried to talk to her got mean looks (looks they thought she couldn’t see). Anywhere she planned on going alone, they’d get up and groan like she’d asked them to come with—which she hadn’t. Anytime they had some major dispute, they’d corner her and badger her until she picked a side. It was why she’d gotten so good at picking up on their combative ques and slipping out of sight. Only later did they question her about it.

“You know we’d never hurt you, right?” Gojo asked around a bright pink sucker. They’d found her smoking on the roof after the two had tried to kill each other over their moral differences.

She shrugged, already over it. The cigarette was no longer trembling in her grip. “Just don’t like all the yelling.” It was too reminiscent of a time she’d rather forget about.

“I’ll never yell at you like that,” Suguru promised, leaning against the railing and plucking the cigarette out from between her fingers. He took a long drag and blew the smoke out into the air.

She snorted. “Yeah right. You yell at Satoru once a week.” It was a feat in its own right considering Getou had the most patience out of all of them.

“You’re not Satoru. I actually like you—"

“Hey!”

She took her cigarette back and chuckled. “I’ll inevitably do something to piss you off.”

“No, I mean it, Shoko. I’ll never yell at you. Promise.” He held up a pinky finger with a mocking smile.

“Me too!” Satoru childishly chimed in, throwing up his own sticky pinky in all seriousness.

And neither of them ever did. Yaga might have yelled at them all the time, but Yaga wasn’t scary despite his gruff appearance and his violent tendencies toward Satoru (who usually deserved it in all honesty). She remembered one time when—

“Shoko?” Mai called to her.

Shoko blinked, and all the memories came crashing to a standstill. The image of the three of them together fractured before breaking into pieces and dropping out of her mind like glass. Reality crashed down in its place. “Sorry. I was just … thinking.”

“About what?” Maki asked softly beside her.

Shoko tapped Mai on the hip, and the girl scurried off her lap. She stood up and dusted herself off. “I was just thinking that it’s about time I confronted my past.” She straightened and held her hands out, and Maki and Mai looked at each other for only a moment before latching onto her. Shoko faced the fusuma sliding panels and set her shoulders back. She wasn’t going to wait around for Getou to come find her.

She might be in his domain, but it wasn’t ever just Gojo who had a bone to pick with the traitorous bastard. If she had it her way, Getou Suguru was going to get another blow right to the chest five years after the first one she landed on him.

For old time’s sake.

Chapter Text

Gojo strolled into Kojima Dentistry with his hands in his pockets and took in his surroundings. Potted plants, half dead and falling limp, took up the empty corners, magazines from two years ago were spread out on the tables, and the flickering lighting cast the rest of the dingy place in a sickening glow. How pathetic. They weren’t even trying.

He stalked up to the front desk, and the wary employee eyed him with suspicion. “No further appointments can be scheduled at this time, sir. We’re booked through the rest of the year.”

“You didn’t even ask what I’m here for,” Satoru leaned down against the dirty counter. His bandages were tight over his eyes, but it didn’t stop him from staring down the guy on the other side. “Seems awfully deserted in here for you to be so booked,” he continued.

The man’s eyes shifted nervously in his sockets. “Wh-What’s your business here?”

Satoru clucked his tongue. “What a rude way to ask a paying customer what they need.” His tone dropped. “I have an appointment with Negi Toshihisa.”

The man’s eyes bulged. “Dr. N-Negi is-is—”

Satoru straightened up but cocked his head, lips pursed. “Still pretending? Well, no matter, I know he’s here. It’s this way, right?” He pointed at the thickly painted door with the “employees only” sign nailed into it. The man didn’t even get to stutter out a response before the door was blasted off its hinges. Satoru walked through only to stop and poke his head back out. “I’ll see myself out from here.”

Striding through the long, overly bright hallway, he destroyed every door he passed. Most were empty. They hadn’t even cared enough to keep up the ruse of a dentistry. Eventually, he found what he was looking for. The last door opened up to a dark, concrete stairwell. Two flights led him down to a large, underground anteroom. Five shallow offices were situated on each side of the room where non-sorcerers were cowering under their desks. Satoru paid them no mind. He only had eyes for the lone curse-user in the back.

Toshihisa was one of Getou’s top dogs. He was responsible for the Kyoto branch of the Time Vessel Association and all their underground offices posted around the city like the dentistry. It was only thanks to Gojo rooting around the Star Religious Group’s main building before he’d absolutely decimated it that he managed to nail down Negi’s whereabouts.

The man wore loose robes tied tight around his waist by a sash, leaving one shoulder exposed where a black muscle shirt was visible underneath. A thick strip of cloth was tied around his head over his light brown hair and covered one of his eyes.

If he covered the other one, they could be twinning.

“Yo!” Satoru called in greeting.

“Under different circumstances,” Negi began, dropping into a fighting stance, “I’d be honored to be in presence of the Gojo Satoru.”

“Under different circumstances,” Satoru tilted his head to one side and lifted two fingers in the air, “I’d be flattered.” He crooked his fingers, and Negi was hurled toward him in the blink of an eye. Effortlessly, he threw him up then flung him down to the ground. The concrete flooring underneath cracked from the force, webbing out around his writhing body. Satoru brought his foot up and slammed it down a couple inches shy of Negi’s chest, using the force of his Infinity to condense between the space. He leaned down against his knee, and Toshihisa gasped.

“Where is Suguru?”

Negi’s teeth were slick with blood as he bared them. “I don’t kn—”

Satoru pushed down, and it was like an elephant putting its full weight on the man’s chest. He gasped and thrashed from side to side, but he could not escape the strongest sorcerer.

Satoru’s voice rumbled out like thunder. “Where—is—Suguru?”

“Go to hell!” Toshihisa gasped out and lifted his eyepatch. “UV Technique: Radiation!” Cursed energy shot out of his eye like a beam, striking straight through Gojo’s Infinity. Satoru snapped his head back just in time to watch a longer lock of his hair disintegrate. The baked air in front of his face felt like that of an oven. Without further preamble, his foot crushed through Negi’s torso.

The man was dead instantly.

Satoru slowly lifted his foot out of Toshihisa’s chest and stepped back. Not a single drop of blood stained his attire. He pulled out his phone and opened the notepad, deleting Negi Toshihisa off his list.

Next up: Larue.

Utahime sighed and dropped her phone onto her bed. Shoko still wasn’t answering her calls. Usually by this time she would have already woken up. Utahime couldn’t help but worry, especially since there were two little kids involved. Shoko had never been … well, motherly. She was reclusive these days. Always holed up in the morgue, and the only time she ever got out was when Gojo dragged her out or Utahime made the rare trip up to the school.

She’d already felt bad about missing her last call, but she’d been walking home last night and felt … watched. It was a weird sensation and one she couldn’t shake. Every time she turned around, she expected someone to be standing right behind her staring at her. She’d felt that way all the way home, and even today she felt a sense of paranoia flare up if she lingered too long near a window.

She looked up and realized she’d been pacing back and forth. She was going to wear a hole in her carpet at this rate, so she stuffed her pride in a box and picked up her phone.

Gojo answered on the third ring.

“I’m just a little bit busy at the moment, Hime.”

Utahime frowned. Gojo could take on curses blindfol—okay, well, he could take on curses with both hands tied behind his back just fine. She’d personally received a phone call from him before while he was in the middle of battle, asking if she’d go to dinner with him and Shoko.

She ignored him. “Is Shoko okay?”

Something exploded in the background. Gojo wasn’t even out of breath. “Probably.”

“What do you mean ‘probably’?” she shrieked. “She’s not answering my calls, and don’t give me some BS excuse of her being asleep. The latest her body lets her sleep is noon, maybe 12:30!”

“That’s weird that you know that about her, Hime-chan.”

“Gojo!”

“Look, some things happened, and I’m in the middle of figuring it out. No need to worry, I’ve—” another explosion happened, “got this.”

That did not reassure Utahime at all. She was pacing all over again. “What ‘things’ happened?”

“Hime, can we not do this right now? As much as I adore your—”

“Gojo, I swear to—”

“—wonderfully soothing voice, I am, in fact, very busy at the moment.”

A prickling sensation at the back of her neck stopped her from responding. She had paused by the window, and she peered out through the glass at the busy street below. There, at the crosswalk, was a shadow lurking by the light pole.

Staring right at her.

She inhaled sharply and stepped away from the window.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru’s sudden voice in her ear made her jump.

“Nothing,” she quickly stated. “Just—Just tell me what’s going on later.”

“Utahime, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. You’re busy, so—”

“Give me two minutes to wrap this up.” The line went dead, and Utahime brought her phone around to stare at the darkened screen. She stood there in her apartment for a long moment. What the hell was going on?

First, Shoko wasn’t answering her, and Gojo’s non-answers only made her more suspicious that something had happened. Yet, no one had been alerted otherwise, and Utahime highly doubted they wouldn’t have been if Jujutsu Headquarters’ only healer went missing. Then there was Gojo’s odd comments about being busy. She’d heard the explosions in the background. He would have just told her he was on a mission or something. And if it was just a mission, the idiot would have shirked responsibility just to talk to her. That or ended the fight in two seconds flat.

And how could she forget the man lurking outside her apartment? That could be chalked up to just a stalker situation. She could honestly handle that herself. In fact, she’d go take care of it now. That would keep her mind off the situation at least for a little bit.

Mind made up, she stepped forward—

—and walked straight into a wall.

“Oomph! Ow!”

“Hime-chan! You could have just said you wanted me to embrace you. Here!”

Ugh, the most annoying wall in history.

She batted at his arms. “Get off me! What are you even doing here? Are you going to finally exp—hey!”

But Gojo walked right past her and stared out the window. He didn’t move, but he didn’t have to. The moment stretched, and Utahime felt frozen on the spot. A horrible heaviness had settled on her chest, like a weight had been pressed directly on top of her, and the temperature dropped in the room. The immense pressure of his Six Eyes wasn’t even directed at her, but she felt seen all the same.

It all stopped abruptly, and Utahime stumbled forward with a soft gasp. Gojo was already turning around, but instead of the goofy grin she was so used to seeing, a serious frown played out over his features.

She caught her breath and stood up a little straighter, expression wary. “That wasn’t just a normal stalker, was it?” But she already knew the truth.

It was why Gojo didn’t answer her. “Hime, you need to leave.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to snap at him that she couldn’t just up and leave. She had school. She had an assignment due in two days. But, honestly, who gave a damn about school when their life was on the line? And if Gojo was telling her to up and leave, then something was wrong. And something was obviously wrong. She took a deep breath, but she didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for the answer to the question she was about to ask.

“Is Shoko dead?”

Satoru’s lips thinned. “No.”

“Are the twins dead?”

“No—at least, I’m pretty sure they’re not.”

Utahime felt like she needed to sit down and pace at the same time. She settled for raking her dark hair out of her face. “Tell me what happened.”

“Only if you promise to stay out of it.”

She glared at him. “If this is you telling me I’m weak, then you can shove—”

“I lost Suguru, Hime.” Satoru interrupted suddenly and stepped forward. “I lost him, and I can’t get him back. Now Shoko’s gone.” Another step forward. “Two kids are being used as pawns in some sick, political game.” Another step, and the bandages unraveled around his ears. “And the players are willing to kill to win.” The last step brought him directly in front of her, and his piercing, blue eyes stared down at her through the crisp, white ribbons. The pressure was back, but it was different this time. “They know I’m involved now, and they know my weaknesses.”

Utahime’s mouth bobbed open. Satoru had no weaknesses. Not if Getou and Shoko were already—

Oh.

She stood up a little straighter and cleared her throat, looking anywhere but at the intense gaze staring down at her. Her traitorous heart had picked up speed, and she didn’t know what to say or do.

She blew out a breath. There were so many other priorities here that came before … that. Shoko was gone—but not dead. The kids? Satoru wasn’t sure. And now she was a potential target.

“Okay. Fine. Tell me what you know and I’ll …” Come with you? Leave this place? “ … go,” she finished awkwardly.

Satoru’s face broke out into a huge grin, and the pressure in the room was lifted instantly. “Yay!” he cheered, and Utahime scoffed and rolled her eyes. How she’d managed to take him seriously for any length of time was beyond her. “Hope you know how to cook, Hime-chan. The kids are getting tired of convenience store food.”

She flopped down on her sofa and began rubbing her temples. “Shut it. This place better have Wi-Fi because I have an assignment due Friday night.”

“You think I could keep a couple kids in a place without Wi-Fi?”

Her stink-eye was enough of an answer.

Shoko frowned as the sliding doors opened to the same room they’d left. The futon was still out and everything. She shut the doors and kept walking, the girls shuffling after her. They had been trying to find a way out, find Getou, or just find something for the last hour. Whenever she felt like throwing in the towel, the girls seemed to notice and would wander ahead of her. They opened every door they passed in the eternal hallway, but most were empty. The only exception was the room they started in. Shoko had walked past it seventeen times.

The problem was that this curse felt so familiar somehow. She’d never gone up against it herself, as she rarely ever went onto the field in her younger years, but she couldn’t shake the sense that she’d heard about this domain before.

“I’m hungry,” Mai whined as she pulled open another set of sliding doors. An empty room with barren floors stretched out before them.

Shoko sighed and ruffled the girl’s hair as she walked by. “Me too. Just don’t think about it too much.” She’d learned a long time ago that if you ignored your hunger, it eventually went away.

“Try telling my tummy that,” Mai grumbled behind her.

Shoko stopped at the next set of doors and placed her fingers on the concave handles. “I find it difficult to imagine Getou would bring us here only to let us starve to death.” She slid open the doors and came face-to-face with the man himself. She blinked in surprise before her face fell. “Case in point.”

Suguru’s charming smile was laid on thickly. He still towered over her, but his frame had thickened out over the last few years. His shoulders were wider, more relaxed. His hair was longer, now kept half up and half down. Still had those thin side bangs. He stood in the ridiculous monk robes she’d heard he’d started wearing after his defection, hands hidden in his sleeves.

“Shoko,” he said softly. “It’s been a while.”

It was like being punched in the chest.

Don’t feel anything. You don’t feel anything. You feel nothing. He means nothing. Nothing.

Shoko’s blank face searched his for any hint of deception, though she couldn’t see any. “Why am I here, Getou?” she asked just as softly.

His eyes flicked over her features, and it was like a beam of sunlight left behind warm traces everywhere he looked. “You’re not happy to see me?”

Yes, her traitorous heart whispered. “I’m curious,” she said instead.

“Ah, curious,” he uttered, and his hand was revealed to rest under his chin as if he were truly contemplating her words.

“Cut the theatrics.”

He held up both hands in surrender, though that charming smile never vanished. “What theatrics? I’m merely surprised we’re of the same mind when it comes to each other.”

She said nothing as she waited for him to explain.

“I’m equally curious,” he continued, and the smile slid off his face and was replaced with a cold stare, “as to when you became a zookeep—”

SLAP!

The rest of his words were stolen before either of them registered her arm’s movement. Already, his cheek was beginning to welt.

It wasn’t a blow to the chest, but it was immensely more satisfying.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Getou,” she began, voice lower and angrier than she’s ever heard herself sound before. “You not killing us was your biggest mistake because now I know there’s a reason why. So, before you disrespect my girls again, listen closely: I am not about to put up with your racist bigotry.” She leaned in closer, and Getou met her steely gaze cooly. “And if you put your hands on them, I’ll do to you what Gojo never could.”

His charming smile was back, but now it only made Shoko sick. “Duly noted.”

“Duly noted.”

Nanako and Mimiko peeked out from behind one of the hidden walls that served as an exit of the cursed spirit’s domain. They looked at each other with gaping mouths left wide open, amazement shining in their eyes. No one touched Getou. No one but them. Even Manami kept her distance despite his teasings.

This Shoko lady was fearless!

“She’s scary,” Mimiko whispered in Nanako’s ear. She nervously clutched at her doll and held it closer to her chest.

“She’s what Manami calls Getou: a Mama Bear,” Nanako whispered back with a grin, thinking herself so clever.

“She doesn’t look like a bear.”

“Getou doesn’t exactly have fluffy ears and sharp claws, Mimi.”

Mimiko gained a look of understanding. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

The girls quietened down as the adults continued talking. It looked like they were arguing, and Shoko kept looking back over her shoulder at the dark-haired girls.

“I promise nothing bad will happen to them.”

“Your promises mean nothing to me.”

Getou sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “Fine. How about this? Mimiko! Nanako!” He suddenly turned and looked right at them.

The girls both gasped and ducked behind the wall.

“Come on out, you’re not in trouble.” Nervously, Nanako and Mimiko peered around the corner. To Shoko and the other set of twins, they probably looked like their heads had sprouted from the wall. They scurried down the hall without making eye contact with anyone and dashed behind Getou.

“Do you just have a habit of stealing little girls, Getou?” they heard the woman ask.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, Shoko. But one thing I’m not is a kidnapper—well, usually. And it was either I take you and the girls or the Zenins. I think I’m certainly the lesser of two evils.”

“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”

“You wound me. I’m offering an olive branch, so to speak. Maki and Mai will be in safe hands because they’ll be accompanied by my girls. They’re the same age, you know.”

The hallway stretched into silence once more.

“Nanako, Mimiko,” Getou called lightly, tone affectionate. “Introduce yourselves.”

Nanako, the braver of the two, peered around him and met Shoko’s dead-looking eyes. Mimiko was right after all. She was scary. “Hi,” she ended up whispering. She glanced up at Getou, hoping that was enough, but he only gave her an encouraging nod. She hesitated before meeting Shoko’s gaze again. “My name’s Nanako.”

The stiff, frozen expression on the woman’s face thawed a little as she bent down. “Hi, Nanako. Tell me something. Is Getou mean to you?”

Nanako looked at her as if her head had sprouted out of a wall. “No! Getou’s the nicest person in the whole world! If it wasn’t for him, Mimiko and I would be dead!” She looked back up at him and grabbed at his hand. She loved how warm they always were. His other hand came up to smooth down her blonde hair.

Shoko nodded, like her answer clarified everything. “Right. Well then, are you going to be mean to my girls if I leave them with you?”

Nanako shook her head. “Not unless they’re mean to me first. Getou says it’s not polite to start the fights—only end them.”

“O-kay,” Getou said suddenly and moved his hand from her head to her mouth. “That is not what I taught you, young lady.”

Nanako squawked and shoved at the hand smushing her face. “Is too!”

“Is not. You and I are going to have a talk later,” he said with finality.

Uh oh. Nanako knew what that meant. She threw her head back and groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

He sent a pointed look at Shoko. “And you say I’m theatrical.”

Shoko stood back up and crossed her arms. “Wonder where she learned it from.” She sighed, eyeing both Nanako and Getou. “Fine. I’ll leave them in your girls’ care. If you’re lying—”

“I have a pact with the Zenins. It’s in my best interest to keep them alive.”

She glared at him, and Nanako silently slipped back behind Getou. “That would have been nice to know beforehand.”

“And reveal all my cards?”

“Is this private conversation you’re wanting to have with me even going to be worth my time?”

“That’ll be up to you. It’s not a conversation for little ears, though.”

The silence stretched again, and Nanako and Mimiko shared a look.

Shoko sighed. “Okay. Let’s go. Maki, Mai, I’m going to leave for a little while, but you’re going to be safe.”

“Promise?” one of them asked. Nanako and Mimiko peered around Getou’s robes, but the other twins looked identical. Telling them apart was going to be hard.

Shoko looked like a different person when she smiled. Nanako felt like she’d just been proven right. Shoko was definitely a mama bear. “I promise.”

Getou showed her out of the room, but not without a final word of warning to Nanako and Mimiko. “Be my good girls, okay?”

They nodded in unison before the door behind Getou was shut. Peering over at the other girls, Mimiko nervously stepped forward. Maki and Mai watched her with suspicious glares.

“Do you wanna play in my room?” She held up her doll as a peace offering. “I have other dolls you can play with.”

Nanako scratched at the back of her head. “I have some new nail polish too.”

One of the girls looked down at Nanako and Mimiko’s nails, and her expression brightened. “That sounds fun. I like dolls too.”

The other twin nodded. “Do you have any dark colors?”

Nanako nodded enthusiastically. “Getou got me every single color there is! C’mon, I’ll show you.”

“How?” the first twin asked curiously. “We’ve tried all the doors, but they’re all empty.”

Mimiko smiled brightly. “Oh, that’s easy! You just go up to any door and say, ‘Mimiko’s bedroom!’”

She ran over to the other side of the wall where a set of open doors showed only a barren room. She grabbed both handles, shut them, and yelled out the key phrase. When she pushed them back open, an overly cute room was now in its place. The bed was huge and up off the floor with shimmering, pink curtains that flowed down to the ground. The walls were pale blue, the flower-shaped rug was pink, and the massive toy chest was pale purple and overfilled with stuffed animals. A sorority of dolls, plus all their houses and convertible cars, were scattered all over the floor.

Mimiko looked proud. “This is my room.”

“It’s so … colorful,” the girl with sharply cut bangs said in awe.

Nanako cleared her throat, and the girls turned to look at her. “Yeah? Wait til you see my room!”

Getou’s girls couldn’t see it, but at least one of the twins was excited. Maki on the other hand … well, she was just glad they weren’t calling her a monkey.

Chapter Text

Satoru knew this shop. Satoru liked this shop. So, imagine his surprise when he realized one of his favorite dessert shops in all of Shikoku was owned and operated by one of Getou’s “family members.” He stepped inside, and already his mouth was watering as the sweet, cotton candy smell of sugar caramelizing assaulted him.

The building was in a lot better shape than the dentist office, and there was a massive flow of patrons coming in and out. The shop wasn’t just a front for the shady underbelly of the curse-user world but a true, operational business. Satoru would know, since his wallet was lighter every time he left this place.

The interior was a blend of eclectic modern pieces and old, traditional elements that seamlessly blurred the architectural line between what was French and what was Japanese. Desserts from both cultures sat side by side behind the glass display cases in a myriad of colors and tasteful designs. Each piece was like a work of art.

Satoru stepped up to the counter under the large, sputnik chandelier and viewed the desserts currently for sale. The lady in the dark blue apron tried to offer up a customer service smile, but it wobbled at the edges as she glanced at his bandaged eyes in confusion. “Uh—um, what can I get for you today, sir?” Her accent was definitely not Japanese.

Satoru sent her a smile as sweet as the confections on display. She had that foreign look he so often teased Nanami about. Blue eyes, blonde hair. He figured he could try his hand at French. It had been awhile. “Où est ton patron,” he peered down at her name tag, “Isabella?” Ah, his accent was impeccable as ever. She must be so impressed.

The woman blinked at him. “What?”

His smile dropped. Whatever. Who needed to speak French in Japan anyway? “Where is your boss?” he asked in his native tongue, tone a bit miffed.

Understanding cleared up her confusion. “Oh! Right away, signore.”

Satoru made himself busy as he waited, though his gaze kept getting drawn back to the profiteroles and the chocolate eclairs. He wanted to pick something up for Utahime and the Fushiguro kids, but Hime-chan didn’t like sweets. Maybe he’d get her the tri-colored dango.

She’d refused to be teleported to Saitama and was now currently on the three-hour train ride there after he’d given her the address. That was fine with Satoru—although he didn’t understand why everyone hated warping around when it was so much fun—because it gave him plenty enough time to cross Larue’s name off his list. It was a sad thought to know 2WorldCollide would lose its head chef. It would probably go out of business. Maybe he could be lenient …

He had just decided on the raindrop cake for Hime and a classic lemon tart for the kiddos when an enormous shadow was cast over him, the counter, and most of the area around him. He tilted his head and side-eyed the humongous man towering above him. Gojo wasn’t a big manga fan, but he’d read Weekly Shonen Jump a time or two.

He knew a JoJo character when he saw one.

Shoko fell a step behind Getou as he led her through a maze of doors. Whether this was necessary or not was beyond her, though she had the sinking suspicion he was trying to confuse her and give her less of a chance of running away. With her hands stuffed in her pockets and a bored expression on her face, she looked about as casual as someone taking a stroll down a non-cursed hallway.

On the inside, though … She didn’t know what the maelstrom of emotions she was feeling could be called. She didn’t even know if it was possible to be feeling everything that she was feeling all at once. She had never been confronted with the brunt of her own emotions this strongly before. A part of her was happy, in a sense, at being in Getou’s presence again. It felt as natural as standing next to Gojo. Where everyone else felt put off by the power these two radiated, she felt at home. And that’s what Getou felt like. He felt like home. Like the missing puzzle piece that had been carved out of her heart by his own two hands.

And then there was the rage. A rage that burned so hot she’d nearly scorched herself when it flared. He’d dared try and call Maki a monkey in front of her. It was evident he hadn’t been around either Gojo or herself in the last few years since no one else was brave enough to put him back in his place. Her palm still stung from the sheer force of that slap. She knew his cheek had to be smarting.

And then there was an emotion that welled up big inside her, choking out any words that could have been said with such deep longing that if she lingered on the feeling, she’d burst. That hot, prickling sensation had happened twice behind the back of her eyelids, and Shoko had realized with abject horror that she was about to cry. She hadn’t cried in all the days he’d been gone, but it felt like it was all catching back up to her in that moment. An ocean of tears crashed up against her soul like the vicious waves around the island, demanding to be let out.

To hell with her tears. Getou didn’t deserve to see them.

He pushed open the last set of doors and stepped into a white, modern kitchen. It was juxtaposed against all the other traditional elements they’d walked through that it nearly gave Shoko whiplash. The countertops were made of marble, the appliances were the latest on the market, and the island was large enough to hold a council meeting.

“Quite the contrast,” Shoko commented idly as she took a seat at the island bar.

Getou hummed, rounding the island and heading toward the cupboards. From there, he began pulling things out and laying them on the countertop. “Larue requested a more modern kitchen a while back. He went to culinary school when he was younger. I actually really like his pastries.” Upon closer inspection, Getou was pulling out coffee mugs, sugar, a container of whole beans, and a coffee grinder.

If he thought he was going to butter her up with a cup of coffee, it was going to have to be one damn good cup of coffee. “Am I supposed to know who Larue is?”

Getou was busy filling up his shiny kettle from the copper pot-filler sticking out above the six-burner range. “He’s part of the family. I met him two years ago when he was working at the Kamo Estate as their head chef.”

Her fingers drummed against the smooth countertop as she watched him work. “Kamos didn’t kill you outright but served you a five-course meal?”

“Not quite five.” He began rinsing the filter and turned on the coffee grinder. The next few minutes were filled with the sound of coarse grinding, but the nutty and smoky notes that floated up into the air had Shoko’s fingers stilling.

Shit. He might just butter her up after all.

When the grinder shut off, he continued. “The Kamo Clan is the smallest of the three big families. They’re trying to expand their numbers to remain a powerful force in the sorcerer world. I offered a truce of sorts with Nobuki, the clan head. They leave me and my organization alone and not follow through on my execution order, and I won’t level their estate to the ground.”

Shoko snorted, but it wasn’t out of amusement. “They’re trying to expand their numbers and you turn around and take one of their men.”

Getou slowly poured the heated water over the coffee grounds, stopping when it began to drip on its own. He made a face. “He wasn’t being appreciated there.”

She said nothing as she watched him. She didn’t really care about this Larue person, and she also didn’t care about clan politics. Though, she was interested in hearing how he came to have a pact with the Zenins, but only because it involved Maki and Mai.

He slid the full mug across the counter toward her, and the marble was so smooth the coffee inside didn’t even slosh over the rim. It was a deep, dark brown. Nearly black. The smell in the kitchen alone was making her mouth water, but she managed to keep her composure as she took a sip.

Double shit. This was a damn good cup of coffee. Never before had she had to gnash her teeth together to stop a moan from slipping out over the taste of a hot cup of Joe. Screw Joe. This cup was more like Joseph Benedicte III.

Getou was waiting for a reaction across the island. She could practically feel the weight of his gaze on her, but after years of dealing with Gojo, the weight was nothing in comparison. She merely hummed in acknowledgement and flicked her gaze up to him, as stoic as ever. “Thanks.”

His disappointment was well masked, but she saw it in the tiniest of creases in his brow. Ha. Served him right.

He smoothly covered it up with a chuckle. “That’s it?”

She sipped at her drink, keeping eye contact with him. The only thing keeping her from gulping it all down was her pride. And the scalding hot temperature. Mostly the scalding hot temperature.

She set her cup down softly and demanded just as quietly, “Tell me why I’m here, Getou, and get to the point.”

The man sighed, and it was like his whole body deflated. He perched himself adjacent to her, and she was grateful for the space. “Do you know why the Zenins are after those girls?” he asked. His gaze never left her, and for once she was having trouble keeping up the eye contact.

She looked away. Her coffee rippled in the mug. Time stretched on. Then, “No.” She didn’t know. She could speculate. Gojo could guess. But at the end of the day, they didn’t know anything.

“Let me ask you something else. Do you remember Zenin Toji?”

How could she forget? The man, the myth, the legend. The one who nearly killed Satoru—who should have killed Satoru if not for Satoru being the freak of nature that he was. He’d wiped the floor with Suguru, and Shoko had been there after to heal the X-shaped scar that ran deep into his torso. He was the one who killed Amanai Riko, who ruined the merger with Tengen, and who set Getou on the path to self-destruction.

She’d never hated anyone more.

“Yes.”

Getou sipped his own cup of coffee. He was more like her in this regard. Cigarettes and black coffee were things synonymous with both Shoko and Suguru. “Yesterday afternoon, Naoya came to my office. He told me Toji was once a twin.”

Interesting, but not interesting enough for her to care.

“He and his brother were useless to the clan. He had as much cursed energy as a non-sorcerer, and his brother, Teiji, had little more than that. Sound familiar?”

Shoko said nothing. She felt that same, familiar, sinking feeling settle in her chest.

Getou’s voice remained light. There was no remorse in his eyes as he continued. “Teiji and Toji were ruthlessly tortured by the clan as children. Sometimes, they were even thrown into disciplinary pits filled with curses—and what was worse? Toji couldn’t even see curses at the time.”

Shoko felt herself growing nauseous.

“Naoya explained how the clan elders had gotten together and decided to experiment on the brothers. What could it hurt? The only thing going for Toji was his Heavenly Restriction which allowed him to fight off curses he couldn’t even see. So, they conducted rigorous experiments on both. Day and night. I read the full, detailed reports myself. A success of sorts happened after Teiji’s heart gave out. Toji was unconscious, but after he awakened, he had a sword in his hand that had manifested out of thin air. He was interrogated later about it, but he never admitted anything even under further punishment. The elders believed it was due to Teiji’s Construction Technique. He must have used up all his cursed energy to create that sword for his brother. But that wasn’t all.”

She couldn’t get the image of a small Toji fighting for his life against foes he couldn’t even see out of her head. The image was replaced with Maki, and her fingers clenched around her blistering hot mug to keep them from shaking.

Getou, mercilessly, continued. “Twins are seen as one being to the Jujutsu gods, you know, so when Teiji’s cursed energy left the world, so did Toji’s. You know what that means? The full potential of his Heavenly Restriction was awakened. Naoya went on to say that, years later, twins were born again in the clan—with the same circumstances. One with a Heavenly Restricted body, and one with the technique of Construction.”

She was going to be sick. She was going to be so sick. The coffee had been too rich. She hadn’t had enough to eat for coffee that rich. She could feel saliva starting to pool in her mouth. Her leg was bouncing. Her body was rigid. It was going to come back up, all of it, all—

A hand settled on her shoulder. “Shoko.”

She swallowed. A horrible, tingling sensation had spread over the bridge of her nose and buzzed down to her teeth. She sat up a little straighter in her chair and breathed deeply through her nose before blowing out the imaginary candles.

She was okay. She was fine. She took another deep breath, and her body finally relaxed on the exhale.

Getou may have snapped her out of it, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. She couldn’t look him in the eye. He was silent through it all, never leaving her side. He lingered there beside her, hand still on her shoulder. She could feel the heat from it seep down to her cold bones, and she hated how it grounded her.

He was waiting for her to come to the conclusion he had all but spelled out for her. Another deep breath rushed past her lips, and she let her eyelids flutter shut as her racing heartbeat calmed down. “The reason the Zenins are after Maki and Mai so badly … is because they’re trying to recreate Toji?”

“Toji was the only one who could go up against Gojo and live—who could give him a run for his money. Not the second time around, but they’re banking on learning from past mistakes. It’s why the girls were treated so much better than Toji and Teiji.”

Shoko’s gaze snapped to his and hardened. “They were—”

“Treated much better than Toji and Teiji.”

Right. She couldn’t argue with that. “So, what then? They’re wanting a weapon that can go up against Gojo? That’s pretty ambitious.”

Getou stepped away, and he took all the heat in the room with him. “Not just the Zenins. Who do you think is funding the child experimentation?”

She stilled. “Are you serious?”

It made so much sense. The Higher-Ups were always complaining about Gojo not bending to their will, doing whatever he pleased whenever he pleased. They couldn’t force him to do anything. They couldn’t punish him because he could kill them all if he wanted to. He had been a menace since he was born, and he was the only one who couldn’t be puppeted. A weapon against him, a weapon that could work, would be highly coveted.

She already knew Jujutsu Headquarters gave the Zenins authorization to search the campus, but now it made sense as to why. It went deeper than mere connections. The Higher-Ups had something to gain from the twins being found.

“Makes you want to kill them all, doesn’t it?”

She looked up and found Getou idly swirling his spoon in his mug. He looked so relaxed, so nonchalant. “What?”

“The Zenins,” he clarified. “The things they could do to those girls … it’d keep you up at night, Shoko. And then there’s the higher ups. They’ve been a thorn in our sides from the beginning, haven’t they? And now you’ve come to find out they’re funding these inhumane tests. Makes you want to take them all out.”

“What are you getting at?” She couldn’t admit that yes, it did make her want all of them to suffer and burn. The fact that she could ask Gojo—could ask Getou, even—to wipe them all out was so tempting. So, frightfully, tempting. Knowing they’d both probably do it made it even more tempting. Both for different reasons, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

Getou’s gaze sharpened, and he looked every bit the villain Jujutsu Headquarters marked him up to be. “Why do you think I killed all those people in that village?”

Her eyes slowly trailed over his features, breath held tight in her chest. She never found out. She hadn’t had the spine to ask that day in Shinjuku. She’d been trying too hard to play up the I-don’t-give-a-shit act. The details hadn’t mattered to her then. She’d half-hoped Satoru would find out why, but she’d taken one look at him after and knew he hadn’t—or if he had, it hadn’t mattered.

“Why—”

The default ringer on a cell phone went off, and Suguru sighed. His posture rolled back into that of a businessman as he stood up and took out his phone.

“You get cell service in a domain?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s Nanako’s phone,” he muttered before answering the call.

Shoko huffed. Like having an eight-year-old’s phone made a difference in cell service.

Getou’s expression shifted into something more guarded. “I’m surprised you found my number … Larue?” He sighed again, and his posture changed once more as his shoulders slumped and a hand came up to cup his exasperated face. He made a dissatisfied noise and peered over at Shoko. “Yes, yes, she’s fine. Here.” He held the phone away and whispered, “Tell Gojo you’re fine. He’s currently holding Larue’s dessert shop hostage.”

She rolled her eyes. That sounded like such a Gojo thing to do. “Oh no. What a travesty.”

“He’s serious, Shoko. Larue’s practically in tears. He’s very sensitive.”

How had she gotten caught up in all this again? She held out her hand and took the weird-looking phone. It was rectangular rather than the typical flip design she was used to, and it was encased in something hard with pink bunny ears poking out at the top. She felt like an idiot for putting it up to her ear. “Hello?”

“Shoko!” Satoru sounded like his usual chipper self, but she could hear the underlying relief in his tone. “Havin’ a fun reunion? I’m sad you didn’t invite me.”

She’d only get this one chance. “I’m on an abandoned isl—” The phone beeped, and she yanked it away to see the screen darken as it died.

From across the counter, Getou tutted her like she was a child. “Shoko, you should know better, though I will admit I should have warned you that saying trigger words would result in the phone dying. However, I did tell you it was Nanako’s phone. Her cursed energy is imbued in the device. It allows me to take calls even in a domain, and it also allows conditions to be set when being used.”

She glared, angry at him for besting her but angrier at herself for allowing herself to be bested in the first place. She slid the phone across the marble and pushed up from her chair. She was done with their conversation. She’d find her own way back to the girls.

There was amusement in his voice as it floated over to her retreating back. “You didn’t finish your drink. Did you not enjoy it?”

She opened the sliding doors and stared out into the eternal hallway. “Too bitter.”

They both knew she wasn’t talking about the coffee.

Chapter Text

Utahime felt her eye begin to twitch. The state of this apartment was horrendous. She’d never given it much thought when Gojo had said he’d stopped the sale on the Zenin kid, but now she wished she would have. He’d told her when he picked her up from the station that Shoko had come and done up the place a bit—with his help of course—so this was the after product.

No, breathe. Breathe. You should have known he wasn’t going to be a responsible adult. They’re alive, and that’s what matters.

She forced her shoulders to relax, and she took a deep breath. One, two, three—

“Home sweet home!” Gojo crowed from behind her, and her patience snapped.

“GOJO, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”

The man, for what it was worth, looked genuinely confused. He put a finger up to his lips and shushed her. “Shh, Hime! You’ll disturb the neighbors. And what are you even talking about? This place is great!”

The dead roaches in the corner said otherwise. The smudge stains on the wall protested. The tacky floors objected loudly with each step. The haphazardly stacked, dilapidated boxes stuffed into the dining room cried out for a merciful death.

Megumi and Tsumiki were huddled up under the kotatsu blanket, watching them with subdued expressions. Two bowls of rice and a plate of shogayaki were currently being picked clean.

Her foot began tapping in her agitation as she took in the place. Then, from her travel bag, she rummaged around until she pulled out a notebook. “No, I can’t do this. I’m writing down a list of things I’m gonna need.”

Satoru groaned. “What? You mean I have to go shopping again? And after I got you sweets!” Larue had graciously agreed to whatever he wanted—as long as he was willing to pay for them—just to get him out of his shop. It’d been hilarious watching the macho man weep over the thought of his shop being ransacked by a guy who could teleport in whenever he wanted, doors locked or not.

“Shut it. You’re lucky I’m making a list and not calling CPS on your ass.” She tore off the piece of paper and shoved it toward him. “Get me the cleaning supplies first. I’ll tackle the house while you do the remainder of the shopping.”

Satoru pouted. “This is gonna take all day. I’ve gotta rescue Shoko!”

“I’m on an abandoned—” was all he’d heard before the line went dead. Getou was smart enough to put conditions on the phone call, but Satoru could think of only so many things something could be abandoned on. You couldn’t be on an abandoned building. Well, you could, but that was unlikely. So … on a what?

Utahime’s face fell. She spied the children out of the corner of her eye and watched them pause eating at the sound of her friend’s name. They were there when Shoko and the girls had been taken, so it had to be weighing heavily on them. She blew out a harsh breath and turned to find Gojo’s bandaged eyes. “You said she was with Getou. And that she was fine when you spoke to her. I hate him for what he did, but I don’t think he’ll kill her. You don’t have any leads right now anyway, do you?”

He shrugged, put off by that fact. “Not really—”

“Then think while you shop.”

Satoru stared at her for a long moment before his shoulders slumped. “‘Kay.”

Utahime watched dejection take hold of the strongest sorcerer, and her expression faltered. She hesitated a second but laid a gentle hand on his arm. She didn’t quite understand what people talked about when they said they could feel his Infinity. She never felt anything. “Hey,” she said quietly and waited for him to acknowledge her with a head tilt. “You can’t push your other responsibilities off to the side. These kids need you. Not as much as Shoko and the girls, but we can’t do anything about that right now. So, do what you can do instead.”

Gojo peered down at her arm, and his frown disappeared, replaced by a giant grin that made Utahime’s eye want to twitch again. She dropped her hand and huffed. “If you have time to goof around, you have time to go get the things I need.”

“Aw, to think the day where Hime-chan would comfort me has finally come!”

She turned away and shut her eyes, refusing to respond to that stupid comment and hoping that by counting to twenty, she would calm back down.

Satoru continued, sighing dreamily to no one. “What could I have done to deserve such an honor? It must be true lo—”

“GO GET THE STUFF!”

She hadn’t even counted to five. Was that a new record?

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” Satoru laughed, and she grumbled as she turned enough to see him off. “Take care of the kids while I’m gone, honey!”

She hurled her bag at the space where he’d been standing, but he was already gone. She was so mad her face was burning up, and her heart was clearly racing because she was having homicidal thoughts. No other reason. Absolutely not.

She whirled back around and met Tsumiki’s deer-in-headlights expression and Megumi’s thoughtful gaze. “You two!” They both snapped to attention. “Help me in the dining room. We’re clearing that mess out.”

She watched the two of them jump up and rush over to tackle the hoarding situation, and she let out a heavy sigh that took most of her strength with it. She was already way over her head, and she wasn’t Shoko. She couldn’t take a bad situation head on with a passive face and a “screw you” attitude. She let things get to her, piss her off, upset her, and tear up the heart she wore on her sleeve.

But, she loved helping people. She’d always been told she was useless, way before Getou and Gojo thought that was a fun moniker for her. Not by her family, bless them, but by jujutsu society. She was that three-star support character you got when you first joined the game that was supposed to carry you through the early stages.

Yeah? Well, you’d never even get to mid-game without that three-star support. If that was going to be her specialty, she’d excel at it. She was going to school to be a teacher for Jujutsu Sorcerers stumbling into their techniques. She’d set the foundation, rock solid under them, so they could eventually stand on their own two feet without her.

Today, though, the foundation she was going to set would be a clean home and a hot dinner. First things first, she was attacking that dining room.

Gojo better hurry up with that mop and bucket.

Shoko blew out the smoke in her lungs, and the cloud hung heavy in the air before slowly dissipating. She’d pushed the shoji doors open and was now leaning against them, one leg hanging over the edge and swinging back and forth, the other pulled up close to her. The twins were passed out haphazardly across the futon, having played their little hearts out today with Getou’s girls.

Three trays of food had been left outside her door. A pack of cigarettes accompanied the trays. Her favorite brand. She’d snagged the carton and shoved the food over to the girls. She wasn’t hungry. It was a lie, but Shoko was so good at lying sometimes she even believed herself.

“You didn’t eat.”

Shoko brought the cigarette back up to her lips. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d walk away. She wasn’t ready to speak to him again so soon.

But even that lie she couldn’t believe.

“You spying on me?” she sighed out, and the smoke fell from her mouth like a stream. The lightning above the island lit up the sky, throwing harsh shadows over the room.

Getou stepped into the flashing illumination, but she refused to bring her eyes up to meet his. “Not at all, but you’re sitting there with that look on your face you often wear when you’re upset. You never eat when you’re stressed. For a doctor, you take horrible care of yourself, Shoko.”

Well, damn. It’d been three years since he’d last seen her and he still managed to notice all the little details.

He sat down next to her when she said nothing, legs swinging over the edge. He leaned over and plucked the cigarette from her fingers, bringing it to his lips with a sly smile. She watched the action wordlessly, but her heart stirred. It was just like old times.

That bitter emotion from before choked her, and she stared down at the cigarette when he placed it gently back between her fingers.

He leaned closer, and a distant part of her thought of shoving him over the edge, but he’d never die that easily. She sat still as a statue as he closed in on the space between them. She glanced up from the cigarette to his gaze, and she saw so many things reflected in his dark eyes. They all melted together into something just on the tip of her tongue, but it dashed out of reach when she went to grasp it.

Her gaze flicked down to his lips for the barest of seconds, but warning bells blared in her head the second she did. She sat up straighter and turned away, staring out at the vast, angry sea. Her body felt like a live wire. If he got any closer, she’d combust. Her heart was having palpitations, but the doctor in her said that was from the lack of eating.

A breathy chuckle sent a shiver up her arms—one that she ignored—before Getou moved away. “Get some rest, Shoko,” he said quietly. He stood up to leave, but he’d only made it a few feet before her voice called out to him.

“Why did you do it?” She was still looking out at the ocean. It was the only thing that would quell the raging emotions in her chest.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

She took another long drag off her cigarette before flicking it out the door. She savored the smoke curling in her lungs before slowly letting it go. “Why did you have to leave?”

The room was quiet for a long moment, but she knew he hadn’t left. She refused to look over at him, to coax an answer out of him. She didn’t want to know what she’d see in his expression.

“You could have come with me, you know.”

She huffed a humorless laugh. “Leave everything behind and live a life of crime? Deprive the school of their only doctor? I didn’t realize you were so selfish.”

“I spent a large part of my life being selfless, Shoko, and look where it got me.”

“Hah, I don’t remember that. Why don’t you refresh my memory? Tell me all about the times you were selfless. Was it when you took on solo missions to make yourself look better to the Higher-Ups?”

“Shoko—”

She steamrolled over him, not knowing where this newfound boldness was coming from. “Or was it when you and Satoru would level a building trying to prove who was stronger?”

“I—”

“What about all the times you let other sorcerers go all out only for you to show up at the end, finishing the fight with your curses before they could get the glory?”

“Shoko, stop.”

“Were you selfless when you told Riko—”

“Don’t say her name—”

“—not to go through with the merger? What about all the times you suffered and didn’t tell anyone? Bet you thought that was pretty selfless then. You really chose to not confide in the only two people who ever gave a damn about you, and then you left us!”

“I HAD NO CHOICE!”

Shoko flinched back, eyes widening and heart stilling in her chest. The girls jumped awake but froze when they saw Getou in the room. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him long enough to assure them it was okay.

Getou stepped away from her. Like she had yelled at him. His guarded expression had dropped, his smugness all but gone. He looked so much like the Suguru she remembered that—had it been any other time—she would have teased him for it.

“Shoko, I—I’m s—”

“It’s okay,” she said tonelessly. She turned away from him and looked back out to the sea. “I told you it would eventually happen, didn’t I?”

She didn’t hear anything for a moment, but his quiet footfalls and the sliding of the doors told her everything she needed to know. He had left. Again.

The silence that lingered behind was deafening.

“I’ll never yell at you like that.”

Shoko tipped her head back and laughed through her nose.

“Yeah, right. I’ll inevitably do something to piss you off.”

“No, I mean it, Shoko. I’ll never yell at you.”

She closed her eyes. Liar.

“Shoko?” Mai’s timid voice drifted over to her.

She inhaled a deep breath of night air and stood up. She left the shoji doors open and dropped down to the futon. “Scoot over,” she whispered. As soon as her head hit the pillow, Mai wormed her way over and snuggled up under her chin. Maki lay her head against her back and threw her little arm over her waist. Within moments, she felt Maki’s breathing even out and Mai’s grip on her shirt loosen.

This was enough. She was okay. She didn’t need to get hung up on a promise made such a long time ago. Did promises made over five years ago even still count? It’s not like they made a pact, pledged vows, or swore an oath. He’d just been trying to make her feel better that day. So, it didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt. Not at all.

Liar.

Chapter Text

“Kitchen,” Shoko demanded before opening the sliding doors. The kitchen was pristine, shiny, and—most annoyingly—empty. She’d really been hoping he was in there. She closed the doors. “Getou.” She opened the doors, but the kitchen was still there, so she closed them again. Guess it didn’t work that way. Fine then, she’d just go through all the rooms in the domain until she found him. “Mimiko’s room.” She slid the doors open, and a pastel wonderland stretched out before her. The brown-haired child on the floor squeaked and nearly dropped her stuffed doll in surprise. “Sorry, looking for Getou.”

“Wait! I wanna come!” Mimiko cried, racing out of the room before Shoko could shut the doors. She ended up barreling into her, and Shoko’s breath whooshed out of her from the impact.

“Oomf!” Mimiko interjected as she smacked face-first into Shoko’s belly. She froze, then, as if remembering just whose belly she had run into. Peering up through her choppy, blunt bangs, she met Shoko’s gaze nervously. “Uh. Sorry.” She hastily retreated back a few steps. “Getou says I don’t watch where I’m going enough.”

Shoko smiled down at her, though she was sure it wasn’t a very reassuring smile. She wasn’t great at those. “Where’s your sister?” Maki and Mai had run off with Nanako earlier, and she hadn’t seen them since.

Mimiko looked sullen all of a sudden. “She’s in her room with Maki and Mai painting their nails. They didn’t wanna play dolls with me.” She pulled her doll out from behind her back and held it up in the air. Its sewn-on mouth and button eyes were giving Shoko Lilo and Stitch flashbacks, only this one’s skin wasn’t green. “Do you wanna play dolls with me?”

Why were all the eight-year-old girls out for her heart?

She sighed. “I can’t. I’m looking for Getou. We need to talk.” He’d been ignoring her for the past two days, and in his absence Nanako and Mimiko had wandered into her room to steal her girls and leave her alone with only the seaside view and half a pack of cigarettes to keep her company. She only knew the day and time because she asked Nanako. Her phone was still MIA.

Mimiko wilted. “Oh. Okay then.”

Shoko closed her eyes and tried to find her inner strength. Finding no such thing, she blew out a breath and said, “After I talk with Getou, I’ll … come play dolls with you.”

The girl’s eyes lit up like miniature moons, and she jumped up and down excitedly. “Really? Yay!” She stilled abruptly, and a frown marred her delicate features. “Um. Well, Getou’s probably in his study room. He’s upset right now.”

Shoko’s brow lifted. Nothing was sweeter than plucking the blunt truth from a child’s mouth. “Oh?”

Mimiko nodded. “Yeah. He says he’s not, but me and Nana can tell.”

“Mmm. He’s probably upset with me.” Though he’s the one who went back on his word. The world liked to think Suguru was the more collected of the two—and most times he was—but he could pout just as obnoxiously as Satoru.

The girl before her grinned shyly. “Well, when Getou is upset with me and Nana,” her voice dropped, and she cupped a hand to the side of her mouth, “we have a secret trick to make him like us again.”

Shoko dropped down to a crouch and leaned forward. She was dying to hear this trick.

Mimiko giggled, looked both ways down the hallway, and whispered, “We call him daddy. He can’t stay mad at us at all after that!”

Shoko’s face, mind, and soul blanked out. “Mimiko,” she said, voice devoid of all emotion. “I am not calling Getou daddy. Ever.”

Mimiko—sweet, precious Mimiko—tilted her head in confusion. “Why not?”

“You said he was in his study?”

Question forgotten, Mimiko brightened and nodded. “Yeah. He’s always in there.”

She stood up quickly, but that proved to be a mistake when she nearly tumbled forward and her vision whited out. She caught herself just in time, and Mimiko gasped and pushed back against her with her hands like she could hold up a fully grown woman.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.

“Low blood pressure. I’m fine.” She was not fine, but an eight-year-old didn't need to know she was developing orthostatic hypotension from not eating enough. She patted the girl’s head and closed the doors to Mimiko’s room. She cleared her throat and said, “Getou’s study.”

When the doors reopened, she found the man sitting at a desk writing something down. He had stacks of papers all around him, and the ugly filing cabinets by his side threw off the traditional theme of the study. His shoji doors were also open, and Shoko could hear the ocean from where she stood.

Mimiko took a cautious step forward. “Getou?”

He didn’t even look up. “I’m busy, Mimiko.”

Mimiko once again wilted, and she pinned those big, puppy dog eyes on Shoko. Shoko bent down so she was at eye level with the little girl. “Wait for me in your room. I promised to play dolls with you, remember?”

Mimiko’s eyes widened, and a beaming grin stretched across her face. “Okay!” she whispered excitedly and raced off down the hall.

Shoko watched her for only a moment before she looked back over at Getou. He was ignoring her, pretending to be focused on his work—whatever that work was, she was sure it wasn’t that important. She knew he knew she was here.

What a child. Actually, that was an insult to all the children she had come to acquaint herself with recently.

She quietly shut the doors behind her and strode over to the desk. Getou never looked up, even when she stood right next to him. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and stared at him, ready to wait him out.

“I’m busy at the moment, Shoko. Please see yourself out.”

Shoko’s brows shot up. Oh, so the last three years had gotten him used to people obeying his every whim and fancy, huh? She took her hands out of her pockets and pushed his chair away from his desk.

“Shoko, what—”

She plopped right on top of the papers he’d been working on and crossed one leg daintily over the other. The incredulous expression on his face was so comical, she had to work to keep her usual, neutral countenance up and going. The look disappeared too quickly for her liking, and false amusement took its place. His clenched jaw and tight smile were dead giveaways.

“That ink is fresh.” Everything I just wrote is now smeared.

Feigning innocence, Shoko shrugged. “I’ve been wearing the same clothes for the last few days anyway. They need to be cleaned.” Suck it, Suguru.

His patience was thinning. She could see it, and a thrill skittered up her spine at the notion that she was getting to him. He’d already yelled at her once. Would he do it again?

She’d realized the other night—because there was no way she could have gone to sleep after everything—that Getou hadn’t … frightened her. She could admit to herself now that it had surprised her, and it’d hurt her feelings when he’d raised his voice at her. A brief flashback of her father had reared its ugly head, but Getou had stood there in the room with her. Not her father. They may be on opposite sides of a greater war, but she held out the belief, even now, that he wouldn’t hurt her.

“If you’re wanting something else to wear,” he began, and his eyes flicked up and down her body, “I can arrange that for you.”

Another thrill, but this one was unrelated. She didn’t take the bait. “If you were going to offer new clothing, you would have done it already. I’ve taken a shower twice now.”

He stood up slowly and hid his hands in his wide sleeves. “You never asked.”

She needed space. He was getting too close. She pulled out her cigarettes and lighter. “I also didn’t ask for a pack of cigarettes.”

He made a face. “Don’t smoke in here.”

“Then talk to me.” Stop ignoring me.

They stared at one another for a long moment, the threat of an unlit cigarette hanging between them. Getou rolled back onto his heels and sighed big. The tension in his shoulders relaxed. “If you’re here to talk about that night—”

“I don’t care about that.” At least, she didn’t anymore. She got over things fairly quickly, and if they stuck to her soul only to later be dredged up by unkind thoughts, that was her own problem to deal with. She was certain Getou yelling at her wasn’t something that would keep her up any more than it already had. “I want proof the Higher-Ups are involved in the Zenins’ schemes.” If they were involved, she and Satoru were playing a whole different ball game than if it was just the Zenins they were going up against.

Getou’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

It didn’t matter to her whether or not it was obvious. It mattered if there was proof. And it sounded like he didn’t have any. “Is it?”

A shadow crossed over his features. “I know they’re involved, Shoko. The fact that there is no proof is a red flag.”

“It doesn’t matter what color their flag is. Until you’ve got proof, no one will believe you.”

“Why do you think I left? I didn’t have any evidence of their involvement.”

She leaned back. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready to understand why he left, but it was now or never. “You left because you killed a bunch of people and got branded as a curse-user.”

He looked away from her, eyes landing on the view outside the shoji doors. “They all deserved to die. You weren’t there.”

She wasn’t. “Enlighten me then.”

He was quiet for a moment, so Shoko turned and stared out at the ocean too. It was no longer storming, but the skies were dark and gray.

“That village never reported any cursed activity happening in the area. Someone in the mountains finally complained, and Masamichi caught wind of it. He sent me out, and I collected over fifty curses that day.”

Fifty? That was practically unheard of. Reports usually came flooding in after five to ten curses. Jujutsu Headquarters would have been in an uproar if that amount of curses were going unchecked even in the most rural areas.

“I tracked them all the way to the village. The people acted suspiciously. They weren’t grateful for all my help, in fact they were almost hostile. I questioned the village head, but he kept dodging me. Finally, I snapped at him, and he panicked. Looked like a rat backed into a corner.”

She listened, waiting for the other shoe to drop. If a sorcerer killed a curse-user, or even another sorcerer, they could be justified if the offending party was hostile. But that was because sorcerers and curse-users were considered deadly weapons. Even a Grade 4 Sorcerer could take out a non-sorcerer MMA fighter without issue.

“He took me to this shack. I could smell something rotten even from outside. When we walked inside, I wanted to gag. I swallow curses, Shoko. I told you what that tastes like.”

She did, and she shuddered every time she was reminded of it. To get Getou to gag … it had to be bad.

“Inside this huge cage, I found Nanako and Mimiko.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. That would do it.

“They were completely emaciated, filthy, and had bruises all over their bodies.” He glared at her. “They were only five years old.”

She nodded slowly. “So, you killed the village head. That could have been justified to the Higher-Ups—”

“You don’t understand,” he snapped. His anger wasn’t wholly directed at her, so she let it slide. “They blamed the girls for everything that was going on. After I killed him and his wife, who was just as bad as him, I freed the girls. That was going to be it, but instead of just leaving, I felt the need to investigate the place. Who knew how many other children could be held hostage there? I found what looked like medieval torture devices and metal cages everywhere. I set fire to the whole place, and I didn’t care who got caught up in the flames.” He laughed then, and the sound was harsh and grating. “A village that small? Everyone was in on it, Shoko.”

Her gaze had wandered to the sea again. It was all she could do to keep her face placid, but the thoughts of poor Mimiko and Nanako being tortured all their lives kept replaying in her mind. She felt her lips tremble and her eyes grew hot.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked after a long, silent moment.

“By then, I was already convicted by Jujutsu Headquarters. They wouldn’t even hear my side of the story, nor did they care that two children capable of using cursed energy had been tortured. That’s why I know they’re involved in the human experimentation project. Naoya only solidified that when he spoke of Maki and Mai becoming the next Toji. Nanako and Mimiko might not look like it, but they are twins. I believe the Higher-Ups have been trying to forge a weapon like Toji ever since he broke away from their control.”

She wiped at her face and sighed. This was a lot. “Why didn’t you tell us any of this? Why didn’t you tell Satoru? He could have—”

“Because I still held onto my beliefs that a world without non-sorcerers would eventually see the end of curses. Villages of non-sorcerers willing to abuse sorcerer children wouldn’t exist. Our allies wouldn’t have to die anymore. We could finally live.”

“At the cost of everyone else dying?”

He blew out an aggravated breath and turned away. “You don’t understand.”

She pushed up off the desk and walked around Getou until she was facing him. “I understand you’re a hypocrite.”

His face screwed up in confusion. “How am I a hypocrite?”

“You hate non-sorcerers for what they can’t control, yet you don’t hate Satoru?”

If possible, he looked even more bewildered. “Why would I hate Satoru?”

She searched his face for any sign of deceit in his confusion. There wasn’t any. He truly didn’t know …

She stepped away from him. That was right—Gojo only told her just last year. It was something that, in hindsight, was obvious. But it was something that never clicked in her mind, but she believed it would have clicked in his. She could just laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but all she felt was pity. “You really don’t know.”

“Know what, Shoko?”

A dry laugh burst from her lips, and she had to look away as the hot, prickling sensation returned to her eyes. She turned away, no longer able to look at him, and walked over to the open shoji doors. She needed the fresh air. Not even a cigarette could help her right now.

“Get this: a man walks down a back alley street in the middle of the night. He’s wasted. He just lost his son and wife in a horrible car accident caused by a drunk kid. His emotions are so intense he feels like he will never get over them.”

Getou said nothing.

She sighed. “His negative emotions conjure up a curse. The grade? Four.”

Silence.

“A woman is walking down the street. She’s grabbed, raped, held at knifepoint. She comes home to her husband crying, and he leaves her, disgusted. She finds out she’s pregnant a few weeks later. She’s lost her job, her husband, her life. Her negative emotions conjure up a curse. Can you guess its grade?”

Silence.

Shoko continued. “Grade 4.”

“Shoko—”

“Do you see where I’m going with this, Getou? Did a Grade 4 kill Furuta Minato? Or Hayakawa Kenji?” A flash of soft, brown eyes and a winning smile. “Haibara Yu?”

Getou stilled. Yu’s naive boyishness had charmed even the ever-frigid Nanami Kento. He was the only sorcerer Getou and Gojo didn’t ruthlessly rag on. His gentle soul had needed to be protected at all costs—but it hadn’t been.

He blew out a breath. “What does that have to do with Satoru?”

She bit her thumbnail and closed her eyes, debating on even answering him. He deserved the truth. “There have always been powerful curses, Getou, but have you not noticed a rise in their numbers over the last twenty years?”

She peered over her shoulder and watched the exact moment of what she was trying to say click in Getou’s mind. He shook his head, but she could tell she had rattled his cage. “Gojo being born only sent the weaker curses to the shadows. It only seems like there’s stronger ones around.”

“I surely don’t need to tell the man hiding behind the Star Religious Group what someone does while waiting unseen in the shadows.” They get stronger. They evolve, or they die.

His eyes widened, and she watched them fog over as the wheels in his head—always turning, always funneling plans and schemes and tricks—stopped abruptly. She left him like that, staring off into nothing. She didn’t have any words of comfort for him because there weren’t any words that could comfort him.

Gojo Satoru’s very birth shifted the balance in the world. That had always been a known fact. But to try and regain that balance, curses had evolved to become stronger and close the power gap. All those curses that had cultivated cursed energy just to try and overpower Gojo … they had likely been responsible for the deaths of all their friends.

“He never told me,” she heard him mutter when she was nearly at the doors. “He never said anything.”

She hummed. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

Utahime rubbed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t sleep no matter how much she cooked, cleaned, or stared at the textbook in front of her. The words were blurring together, and she’d had to reread the same paragraph four times. The current chapter covered the historical importance and cultural significance of adopting Chinese customs and Buddhism, leading to the influence of Japanese garden designs. Not the most riveting subject, but she couldn’t concentrate despite her best attempts.

Shoko still hadn’t been found. Gakuganji and Yaga had both been alerted the day after she’d been taken, and then—of course—the Higher-Ups were informed. It was like watching a lit match fall into a river of gasoline. Everyone had received a mass emergency notification to be on the lookout. Gojo had all but disappeared, but whenever he did pop in, it was to tell her about the grilling interrogations from the Higher-Ups, the endless investigation he was conducting to find her, or how they had him running around exorcising curses—he was being called on more than usual since the school’s only doctor was MIA and the Higher-Ups couldn’t take chances. Mei Mei had called him with what could only be her version of concern, but after he revealed the truth, she seemed mildly surprised at best. Never one to miss a chance at collecting a reward, she was probably out there searching along with Gojo.

Utahime wasn’t participating in the regional manhunt because there was no point, though she faked it whenever Gakuganji called her for an update. She needed to seem like the obedient follower she normally was when talking to him, otherwise she’d never get a teaching position at the Kyoto school.

A soft knock on the wall had her looking up. Tsumiki looked nervous standing there, wringing her hands. She was dressed in a new pair of long-sleeved pajamas, and kitty-cat slippers decorated her feet. “Um, Utahime?”

Utahime snapped to attention and quickly patted the space next to her. “What’s wrong, Tsumiki? Are you okay?”

Tsumiki skittered over to her side at the kotatsu—now relocated to the usable dining room. A low sectional currently resided in the small living room. All the boxes had been properly organized, and most of the stuff stored in them had needed to be thrown out anyway. The floors shined, the walls reflected a cleaner shade of beige, and the home smelled like … well, not a boys’ locker room. The Fushiguros seemed immensely grateful—Megumi in his own, quiet way of course. Tsumiki had baked her a cake, and it remained half-eaten in the fully stocked fridge.

Tsumiki pouted, and Utahime’s concern was momentarily overshadowed by the intense feelings of cuteness overload. Tsumiki was so adorable. “It’s not me,” she went on to say. “It’s Megumi. I can tell he’s still bothered by what happened the other day, but he won’t talk to me. Maybe he thinks I just won’t get it because I’m not …” She shrugged, and the dejected action told Utahime all she needed to know. “I’m not a sorcerer, so I don’t know how he’s feeling.”

She placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder and offered a small smile. “You’re enough, Tsumiki. Your not being a sorcerer doesn’t equate to the value you hold as a person. It’s okay to not understand what someone else is going through. You don’t have to be the one to fix other people in order for them to love or appreciate you.”

Tsumiki’s lip wobbled, and she sniffed and looked away, trying to put on a brave face. Her words left her in a harsh whisper. “I just wish I could help.”

Utahime shook her head. “That’s a responsibility that never should have been placed on your shoulders to begin with.”

She shrugged again. “We’re all that we have left. After Mom died, Toji left without saying anything. Megumi was just four. I’ve been raising him ever since, and I …” Tears started dropping down her cheeks, and she wiped at them uselessly. “This is the first time I can’t figure out what to do. I’m supposed to figure it out.”

Utahime’s eyes widened. “You’ve been raising Megumi since you were six?”

Tsumiki nodded, finally managing to collect herself. “We had help from the neighbors here and there. Whenever they asked, I just said Toji was working a lot. Our auntie couldn’t take us in because she was a flight attendant, but she paid our rent.” She wiped at her reddened eyes. “I think she knew Toji wouldn’t stay with us, so sometimes she sent us extra money. After Gojo started taking care of us, I never heard from her again, but it was okay because we always had food. I’ve been so grateful ever since.”

A newfound respect for Tsumiki settled in Utahime’s core. She’d known the girl was stronger and more responsible than the average kid, but she’d gone through so much and shouldered the responsibility of not only herself but her younger brother as well for so long. “You’re amazing.”

Tsumiki’s face reddened, and she giggled in what could only be embarrassment. She couldn’t meet the older woman’s eyes as she shyly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“I mean it, Tsumiki,” Utahime pressed. “You’re so strong, and brave, and selfless. You’ve done what a lot of people couldn’t do at your age—what a lot of grown people couldn’t do.” She felt a wave of emotions surging within her. They balled up tight in her throat and made swallowing them down difficult. “It must have been scary.”

Her smile slipped. “Yeah. Every time I got scared, I thought about what Mom would do, but I—” Her voice broke, and a sob escaped her. Utahime moved before she could think twice and wrapped her arms around the girl. Tsumiki buried her face into her shoulder and let the tears fall. “It just made me miss her more.”

Utahime shushed her and cradled her head, rocking her back and forth. “You won’t ever be alone again. You’re okay. I’m here. I see you, Tsumiki. I see you.”

They stayed like that until her shuddering breaths evened out and her tears dried up. All the while, Utahime’s mind raced on how she could help. She still had school for another year, and then there was the year-long apprenticeship position at Kyoto’s Jujutsu High she had to enroll for before she got her teaching job. She couldn’t stay here, but she also didn’t want to leave these kids on their own any more than she had to. They’d suffered so much already.

And as much as she wanted to point fingers and get angry at Gojo, even she couldn’t really blame him. She could admit he had a lot on his plate—especially right now with Shoko missing. Being the clan head at such a young age, being responsible for two kids, taking on a mountain of curses, being interrogated daily by the Higher-Ups, trying to find Shoko, and still wearing a smile every day? His strength went far deeper than his cursed techniques. She just wished he’d be more real with her—with all of them.

But Gojo refused to let anyone get that close to him again.

“C’mon,” she urged gently, patting Tsumiki on the shoulder. The girl had nearly fallen asleep in her embrace. “Let’s get you in bed.”

Tsumiki nodded drowsily. “Okay.”

Utahime smiled at her soft, sleep-filled voice. “I’ll talk to Megumi tomorrow.”

The mention of her brother’s name cleared some of the haze from her eyes. “Thank you, Utahime.”

She smiled and smoothed down Tsumiki’s flyaways. “Anytime, honey. Anytime.”

Chapter Text

The endless dark skies and crashing waves were starting to become a comfort to her. Strange how a place meant to be a prison could bring her some semblance of peace. She wasn’t being bombarded with calls, she could sleep as much as she liked, and she knew the Zenins couldn’t reach the girls.

Yet even as lightning flashed above and the thunder rumbled after, she couldn’t help but feel like this was just the calm before the real storm. Getou had a pact with the Zenins. Gojo was looking for her, determined to bring her back. The girls couldn’t stay here forever.

So, what was going to be the catalyst that ended it all?

Shoko contemplated that as she smoked her last cigarette, and she thought the answer may lie in the soft slide of the panel doors being opened behind her. She blew the smoke into the night air before turning and watching Getou pad silently over to her. There wasn’t enough light to see all of him, but she noticed the tray he was holding in his hands.

“I already ate dinner.” A lie. She’d shoved most of it off to Maki and Mai, but Maki had determinedly shoved it back at her. She’d tried to pick at the food, but neither its wondrous smell nor its flavorful taste registered in her mind. She’d pushed it back over and told them to eat it before it got cold.

“It’s a peace offering,” Getou replied, sitting down beside her and setting said peace offering down between them. A bottle of plum wine, two shallow cups, and a new pack of cigarettes rested on the red, lacquered tray.

She took one last hit off her cigarette and flicked it out the open door. “I didn’t know we were at war,” she said as she blew out the smoke.

Getou pushed back his billowing sleeves and went to work pouring her some of the wine. “If we were,” he noted softly, “you would probably win.”

She snorted dryly. “The mighty Getou falls at last.”

The smallest change in his expression caused her to pause, but it was gone before she could comment on it. She picked up her cup and swirled its contents around. The liquor was mildly sweet with a tartness that hit the back of her throat when she took a sip. She preferred gin or rum, but this wasn’t bad. She wouldn’t feel anything though.

“You do find ways of crippling me where others can’t even touch me,” he continued after a thoughtful moment.

She stared out at the night sky, wondering why he was telling her this. “What a compliment.”

He sighed. “Shoko, I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved the other day. You didn’t deserve that.”

Some would disagree. She’d pushed him too far that night, and a part of her had wanted him to break that promise made to her so long ago. A part of her wanted to make him be the bad guy everyone else saw him as. To give her another reason to hate him. To give her another reason for wanting to leave this place.

Because, as awful as it seemed, another part of her didn’t want to leave. For all that Getou was a monster, a small part of her could ignore his atrocities—especially now that she knew the truth of what happened in that small village. That side of her she didn’t like, the one that balanced across a morally gray tightrope, was tempted to sit back and grow happily complacent in a domain on the edge of the world without a care for the rest of it. Where Maki and Mai didn’t have to hide. Where she never got called into work to cut up someone she cared about. Where she could rest in the company of an old friend drinking fruity wine on a stormy night.

“Did you think I would have come and found you if I hadn’t forgiven you?” she eventually said, letting the words hang between them in the chill that lingered.

She saw Getou turn toward her out of the corner of her eye. “You forgive me?”

“For yelling at me?” she snorted. “I’m not a child. I also forgive you for killing a whole bunch of people. Though,” she shrugged with a wry grin, “I suppose it’s not my call to make, but I think anyone who came across that place would have done the same thing. Had it been Utahime?” She whistled low, not needing any further explanation.

Suguru chuckled lightly and finally picked up his own cup.

She heard Maki mumble something, and then both girls got up and left the room. Getou watched them, eyes narrowed, and she felt a heat surge forward that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “What I won’t forgive you for is your twisted views on non-sorcerers.” His gaze snapped to hers, and she barreled on. “Maki is one of the most courageous, honest, and capable people—not children—people I’ve ever met. If you even look at her with ill intentions, I will never forgive you.”

Lightning flashed, and it highlighted all the sharp panes of his face. It accentuated his rigid posture, his unwavering beliefs. “You know I can’t make exceptions,” he said gravely. “I would have made them for my parents.”

Shoko swallowed and looked away. It was like arguing with a brick wall. How do you find common ground with a person who killed their own parents? Maybe she would have understood if they were like her father. Her mother was just a coward, but that was something Shoko couldn’t blame her for. Because more than her chestnut-brown hair or beauty mark, Ieiri Ayuka had passed that same toxic trait onto her daughter. For Shoko was the biggest coward she knew—she just didn’t show it.

But this was something she refused to budge on. “You’ve already made an exception, or did you forget what I told you earlier?”

He took a sip of his drink. “I’ve been thinking about it.” She could tell that he had been. Consternation wasn’t a good look on Getou.

She knocked back the rest of her drink like it was a shot and sighed heavily. The taste of plums was stuck dry on her tongue, the perfect companion for a new cigarette. She plucked one from the pack and held it up to her lips. Her fingers felt numb as she flicked the lighter. “And?”

“It doesn’t change anything.”

She knew a lie when she heard one. She could almost forgive him for it since the lie was more for him than it was for her.

“It’s funny,” she said in a tone that indicated it was nothing of the sort. “You’ve always needed your ideals in order to live. You could never just exist. Even back then you believed so strongly that sorcerers were needed to protect the weak. It was like you were desperate to hold onto that. And now, you’ve done a complete 180. Was that also just a lie you told yourself to quell the monster inside?”

At the word monster, he flinched. He tried to hide it behind the act of pulling out a cigarette and using the tip of his finger where a tiny curse had popped out to light it. He took a long, deep drag. She watched his hands work. He always held his cancer sticks with such elegance. “It wasn’t a lie,” he murmured after a moment. “I fully believed it. But then I kept watching our comrades die, and I thought, what is all of this for? Why are we dying for people who are the cause of their own suffering?”

She blew out a lungful of smoke. “It’s in our nature to suffer. We humans fall into it without even trying, and no matter how much you try to distance yourself from non-sorcerers by calling them monkeys, you’re no different.”

He scoffed. As if the idea of being on the same level as a non-sorcerer was preposterous. “My suffering doesn’t produce curses—”

“You’re a curse in human form,” she spat out as irritation took hold of her. She watched his eyes widen, his mouth fall open. Like she had just slapped him again. “Your suffering doesn’t produce curses directly, but the pain you’re willing to inflict on the world is going to end up producing something much more sinister. You’re a curse to non-sorcerers, Suguru. You prey on them just as a curse would. At least they’re not aware that their suffering affects more than just themselves. What’s your excuse?”

“I’m trying to end the suffering of us all,” he argued. “I’m putting non-sorcerers out of their miserable existence, and in doing so I’ll see to it the end of curses. All of them.”

She groaned and slumped back against the shoji doors. “Aren’t you forgetting that non-sorcerers birthed you?”

His expression hardened. “We’ve already established I couldn’t make—”

“I’m not talking about that,” she snapped. She pulled angrily at her cigarette and flicked it out into the night. She’d hardly gotten anything out of that one. “I’m talking about how you’re one of the most powerful sorcerers in the modern age—someone who can actually go toe-to-toe with Gojo Satoru—and you came from nothing. No sorcerer lineage, nothing.” She leaned forward, close enough to smell the smoke furling out of his lips and see the reflection of lightning in his glassy eyes. “And you know something? You’re not special.”

Anger morphed his features, but Shoko was beyond caring.

“There’re cases like you popping up every once in a while, but most go undetected because we don’t have the manpower to scout out new talent all across Japan. No one’s probably as powerful as you—in that sense you are special, but your circumstances aren’t, and for the longest time, I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it. Before you defected, you were seen as one of our greatest hopes. I think a lot more sorcerers would have died if you hadn’t been born—if you hadn’t been given the opportunity to be born. So, you killing millions of non-sorcerers is only hurting us in the long run. You’re stopping sorcerers, sorcerers who could be powerful like you, from ever being born.”

“Me killing millions of non-sorcerers is preventing the deaths of our own kind. We won’t need more sorcerers born from non-sorcerers because there will no longer be any more curses!”

“And what are you going to do when sorcerers give birth to non-sorcerers? What then, Getou? What if Utahime has a kid with a normal amount of cursed energy? Are you going to pry her baby away from her and murder it?”

“Of course not!” he snapped, voice elevating and sending horrible shivers up her arms.

“Then what’s the difference between her baby and anyone else’s?”

“A normal person doesn’t grow up learning to control their cursed energy. Someone born into a sorcerer family has at least that much knowledge. Maki is a prime example—”

“Don’t bring Maki into this,” she hissed.

His frustration was nearly palpable. “Then what do you want me to do, Shoko? Do you want me to continue sitting back and watching all our friends die? Is that what you want? Is your only goal in life to spend time with our friends after they’re already dead?”

She laughed humorlessly, eyes hot behind her eyelids. “You know it isn’t.”

“Then why are you so against my goals? Why do their lives matter so much to you that you’re willing to sacrifice us sorcerers?”

She leaned back suddenly, energy sapped. She felt so tired, yet she couldn’t take her gaze off of him. Why couldn’t she just hate him? Why was she trying so hard to change him? Why couldn’t she just accept the fact that he was a monster? Why did she keep persisting?

Her voice sounded every bit as hollow as she felt inside. “Every time I think of a world like what you’re talking about, a world with so few people in it, I hate it. I imagine cities with no one in them. I think about there being no more new movies or TV shows, no more clubs packed full of people, no more restaurants to go to, or festivals in the new year. I think of a world that’s already dead … so what’s the point in living in it?”

To that, he said nothing. He didn’t need to, though, because she had made her point. If this didn’t reach Getou, nothing would. The coward in her returned, and she looked away. Her eyes searched the shoreline, and she counted each wave that crashed against the seawall. The silence continued to stretch, and she realized after a moment that she had been holding her breath waiting for him to say something.

He sighed then, after a long, terrible moment. Slowly, without a word, he climbed to his feet and left the room.

As soon as the sliding doors slipped shut, she slumped forward and buried her face in her hands. Her chest felt so heavy, and breathing felt like a chore, but her RCT was useless here. This wasn’t something she could heal, and Getou wasn’t someone she could save. He was a lost cause. She couldn’t reach him. He was going to continue down this damned path no matter the cost. No matter how much pain he would cause, or death he would bring about, or destruction he would raze.

A sob ripped through her chest.

She couldn’t be here anymore. She couldn’t keep pretending. That small part of her that could have kept the ruse up died the moment he got up and walked away, just like when he had walked away from them all those years ago.

She didn’t know why, but it hurt so much more this time.

Gojo, where are you?

Satoru picked up his ringing cell phone without looking at who was calling him. “Gojo speaking,” he said, tone heavy. His eyes were dry, his head was pounding with a headache, and his mind was abuzz with a restless energy that propelled him on despite next to no sleep. He’d been like this before once, a long time ago when it concerned someone else’s safety. He had failed then. The thought left him irritated.

“Go on,” he ordered, glancing down at his desk.

Scattered before him were all the salvaged documents from both the Star Religious Group headquarters, Negi’s archival room, and Larue’s back office. No matter how much he poured over the forms, he couldn’t find any other lead. They were all annual renewal registrations, non-disclosure agreements, employment contracts or other useless file fodder. He’d already pulled the employment records, and that was how he’d been able to find Negi and Larue. He’d figured Getou couldn’t have been signing all these tax forms—he had to have someone pencil pushing for him—but every wet signature used his name.

Something wasn’t adding up, though. Some documents were blanked out, like the words had been pulled right off the page and taken.

The voice on the other end of the line spoke in a low drone. It was clear a voice enhancer had been implemented before the call had taken place just in case any party wanted to record the conversation. His own voice would come through distorted on the other end as well.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed behind the white bandages as he listened. “Send it in.”

He stood up and made his way over to the desktop in the corner of his penthouse. With one hand, he fished out a flash drive from his inside pocket and stuck it into the tower. The Gojo Clan’s dedicated server was kept on the device, and it was imbued with so much of his cursed energy that it was practically a bomb to whoever touched it besides himself. Within moments, an encrypted file was uploaded to the site. His fingers blurred over the keyboard as he input the twenty-three digit passcode.

A picture of Getou smiling at the camera with a woman next to him posing spread out over his screen. Under it, green text listed the photo’s relevant information.

^{>taken June 20, 2009
>compact camera; DSLR-A230
>retrieved from Kitamura Camera, Shinjuku Database
>uploaded under username: sudamanami
>related: Suda Manami deleted BizReach profile :attach: link}

This was more than anything he could have found on his own, and he had known it after a day of fruitless searching. It only took a single text to his father for the man to reach out to the Gojo Clan’s vast network of contacts. Their connections ran farther than most realized. The halo Satoru cast around himself shadowed those connections from the rest of the world, and though it wasn’t intentional, it was one hell of a boon when jujutsu society knew you were so powerful you could very well act all on your own.

He muttered a stiff goodbye to the Minister of Cybersecurity’s secretary and ended the call. His eyes flicked over the woman’s profile then over the picture of her and Suguru together, memorizing her every feature.

Suda Manami, huh?

Finally, another lead.

Chapter Text

Zenin Naoya scowled down at his iPad as he sipped at his Sencha tea. His father had actually been the one to recommend the device. Naobito had been obsessed with technology since he was a boy, modeled his innate technique around it, and adapted his extension techniques with the rapid evolution of computers and televisions. Naoya much preferred the quiet control of tradition to the obnoxiously loud, modern world. However, certain exceptions needed to be made if they did not want to fall behind the rest of society, so he allowed his father his nifty whims without too much fuss as long as the TV couldn’t be heard outside the master’s quarters.

Begrudgingly, he could admit his iPad was not only useful but congenial. It allowed him to receive messages from his contacts in real time on a much bigger screen than a cell phone, yet it was much more portable than a laptop while maintaining the same amount of storage space.

At the moment, though, he was contemplating throwing the device across the room. The one thing he abhorred, above all other things, was being taken for a fool.

^{Gojo eliminated three members of the Kukuru Unit after being spotted in Saitama. Advising to retrieve the bodies and retreat from the area as it is under the protection of the Six Eyes.}

That was sent October 13th around noon. Naoya had concluded that, yes, three of the Kukuru Unit swordsmen had met their ends in Saitama. Their bodies had been recovered at the address Getou provided. That was fine.

^{Tracked residuals to Sendai. Concluded to be a dead end. Retracted steps. Second set of hastily covered residuals point in Osaka’s general direction.}

That was sent on the 15th around four in the afternoon. There had been no follow-up to that message. Naoya had frowned when he’d received the note and immediately sent out The Hei to validate the claim. There were no cursed energy residuals leading to Sendai, though he relented on his suspicions knowing it had been days since Gojo would have used his technique. It was plausible, even, that Gojo had led a false trail in the opposite direction. He was a skilled enough sorcerer to cover up his actual tracks anyway.

The problem?

The man he’d put on the Iori girl reported that he’d been under direct fire of the Six Eyes around 1 PM on the 13th. So, how could Gojo be creating false trails up to Sendai, warping down to Osaka, and be in Kyoto while trying to hide three people?

And obviously there were three people he was trying to hide. The mass message that went out to all sorcerers concerning Ieiri Shoko’s disappearance happened on the 14th. She was the only true healer Jujutsu Headquarters had, so of course Naoya knew who she was. He also remembered what a member of The Hei reported the day they searched the campus. Gojo had teleported in and whisked her away with some lame excuse for brunch. So, she’d been part of the plan from the get-go, had she?

Now, he wasn’t convinced Gojo and Getou had set aside their moral differences and joined forces just to toy with the Zenin Clan. They were too far gone on opposite sides of the fight to come back together now, but Ieiri Shoko could very well be the bridge between the two.

Naoya pulled up a file and scrolled through the long list of photos kept within it. The clans—not just the Zenins—had always kept track of those enrolled in both Jujutsu Tech schools. Keep your allies close, your enemies closer. They might not have been allowed on neutral ground, but how often did teenagers stick around school campuses in their downtime?

Ah, there.

Several photos of Getou, Gojo, and the Ieiri girl together loaded on the screen. In many of them, Gojo and Getou were caught goofing around in arcades and parks. In others, they were going all out against each other in the rural mountains. The photos had been used to gauge the true scale of the sorcerers’ powers.

But it was one photo in particular that snagged Naoya’s attention. In it, Getou—after having just defected—was seen in Shinjuku with Ieiri. While she had been snapped laughing on the phone, Getou had been caught staring at her with the softest, most disgusting look Naoya had ever seen.

He would never love anyone more than he loved himself, but Zenin Naoya was nothing if not a master at exploiting people’s weaknesses. It was a shame, really, that he couldn’t kill the woman. She wasn’t worth the trouble the Zenin Clan would suffer if the Higher-Ups knew they’d killed the only RCT healer in jujutsu society.

His iPad pinged with a new notification, bringing Naoya out of his thoughts.

^{Twins in sight. Await further correspondence.}

His eyes narrowed at the message. Maybe Getou was telling him the truth. But maybe … maybe Naoya needed some extra assurance.

Shoko woke to the sound of booming thunder and the smell of grilled fish. Her eyes felt crusted over, her head hurt, and her mouth was dry. Her RCT could do a lot of things, but it couldn’t produce water out of thin air to rehydrate what alcohol stripped away. Sometimes, she drank simply so she could feel human. Hangovers were a universal experience, and it was one of the few things her RCT couldn’t fix.

But this was not caused by a little bit of plum wine.

“Water,” she croaked and sat up drowsily in the futon. She sniffed herself and grimaced. She didn’t care how expensive the outfit she was wearing currently was, she was going to burn it the second she got a change of clothes.

“There’s coffee,” Maki offered softly.

Even better.

She grabbed the hot mug and sipped at its dark contents. It could have tasted like mud and she would have been thankful, but of course it didn’t. That familiar tug in her heart had her frowning and rubbing at her chest. Even after everything, Getou had still felt the need to make her an amazing cup of coffee.

Tiny fingers ran through some strands of her hair, and she peered up and found Mai’s worried gaze. “What’s wrong, Shoko?”

Shoko tried to smile, but neither twin was convinced. “I just don’t feel very good.”

Maki put down her bowl of rice and shuffled over to her. She reached up and placed her wrist up to Shoko’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

She laughed through her nose, but it was a tired sound. “My reversed cursed technique would have healed a fever, Maki. What I feel, a doctor can’t cure.”

Maki looked at her confused. “Why not?”

Mai huffed, crossing her arms. “It’s because she’s sad!”

Maki glared at her sister. “Why would she be sad?” She turned toward Shoko. “Why are you sad? Is it because Getou was mean to you? Did he call you a monkey?”

Shoko couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her lips. Maki looked so ready to storm into Getou’s study and fight him one-V-one. “No, he didn’t call me a monkey.” She looked away, smile slipping. “I tried to make him see that being a bad guy isn’t good.”

Maki now crossed her arms. “Isn’t he supposed to know being bad isn’t good? He doesn’t sound very smart—are you sure he’s not the monkey?”

Shoko nearly choked on her second sip of coffee. Maki was funnier than she meant to be, and her bluntness was unrivaled. Maybe that was why her bangs had been cut that way. “Something bad happened to him a few years ago. He doesn’t think he’s being bad. He thinks what he’s doing is going to be good. He’s … confused.”

Maki stared at her for a few moments, eyes narrowed, but she relented with a sigh. “Fine. But you have to eat.”

If someone could get whiplash from topic changes, Shoko would have gotten it then. “What?”

“You haven’t been eating lately,” Mai whined, pushing the third tray over to her. On it, a spread of grilled fish, pickled vegetables, natto, miso soup, and seaweed salad were separated into tiny serving bowls on the tray.

It just all seemed like so much effort. She sipped her coffee instead. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the girls to have it, but Mai clumsily picked up a pair of chopsticks with both hands and brought a piece of pickled cucumber to her lips.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt.

She took a bite, and the spice flooded her tongue. Interestingly enough, when she sipped her coffee, the heat remained and shook the bitter, smoky notes of her drink into something much deeper. She sighed afterward, but it was a good sigh.

When her eyelids fluttered back open, Maki was holding up a spoonful of miso soup.

Oh, so the girls had learned the art of ganging up on people.

Just as she swallowed down the miso, a soft knock on the doors could be heard before the fusuma was opened. Her heart leapt, but Shoko maintained her calm façade as she peered over her shoulder. She hated the disappointment she felt in seeing Mimiko and Nanako standing there instead.

“You’re still eating?” Nanako called to them, hands on her hips.

Maki scowled. “You just eat too fast. It’s bad manners.”

Nanako huffed. “Getou says I have manners, I’m just a growing girl.”

“When you’re done, can we play?” Mimiko jumped in. Clearly, she had priorities.

Mai hesitated and glanced at Shoko before shaking her head. “No, Shoko’s not feeling good, so we’re gonna stay with her today.”

Mimiko gasped, and her little hands flew up to her lips in worry. Her big, doe eyes rounded. “Is she sick? Should I get Getou?”

“No,” Shoko said quickly, betraying that tiny voice in her head. She snuffed it out before it could protest. “You don’t need to worry, girls.”

Maki didn’t look convinced. “She won’t eat. So, we’re gonna stay here and make sure she does.”

Shoko looked up toward the ceiling, hoping for a way out of this. It came to her in the answer of Mimiko and Nanako’s audible disappointment.

“Why don’t you guys play in here?” she asked quietly. She really didn’t want to be alone, and the thought of spending the day with Maki and Mai sent a warm feeling curling around the hole in her heart. Mimiko and Nanako were precious in their own right. They would all have a great time—as long as Mimiko didn’t bring Sakura. That doll had been very rude on their playdate the other day.

Getou’s girls lit up and dashed down the hall squealing without waiting around to see if that was what Maki and Mai even wanted. Maki grumbled under her breath, but she picked up some of the grilled fish and held it up to Shoko. “Fine. As long as you finish your breakfast.”

Shoko allowed herself to be fed, but her brows rose at the girl’s tone. “Who’s the guardian here?”

It was rare, but when Maki smiled, it transformed her whole face. “I am today.”

“Me too!” Mai chimed in and hastily picked up another pickled cucumber.

I think I can live with that.

Utahime slowly sipped at her spoonful of miso as she watched Megumi pick at his toast. Her eyes flicked up to meet Tsumiki’s before they were drawn back to him. Utahime had noticed the kid had been withdrawn since her arrival, but what Tsumiki had said last night made sense. Every time her phone went off, he looked up only for his expression to drop when it was clear there was no news. The last any of them had heard from Gojo was a few days ago now.

Utahime eyed Tsumiki again. The girl shoved the last of her buttered toast into her mouth, quickly got up from the kotatsu, and scurried out of the room. Megumi sighed and rose from his seat too.

“Megumi,” she called softly, patting the table. He looked at her with a confused expression but gradually sat back down in his seat. His eyes drifted to his toast. She pushed her own miso aside and rested her arms onto the table, slumping forward a little so she was more on his level. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Megumi shrugged dismissively. His eyes refused to meet hers.

That was okay. Not everyone was comfortable with admitting their weaknesses. Time to change tactics. “What happened that day … you saw it, didn’t you?”

Megumi paused in picking at the crust of his toast. He nodded.

Progress. “It was scary, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t scared,” he mumbled. Finally, a response.

“It’s okay to be scared. It’s a scary thing you witnessed.”

He looked frustrated all of a sudden. “I wasn’t scared. I just—” He cut himself off and sighed heavily. He didn’t continue.

She wasn’t backing down now. “You didn’t what?”

Another shrug. Instead of pressing, Utahime waited. His eyes were darting back and forth, lips twitching as if he wanted to say something but just couldn’t find the words. If she spoke now, he’d let himself get talked over.

“I couldn’t—Gojo said I wouldn’t have been any help,” he said eventually.

Utahime couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Gojo is a jerk. He thinks everyone’s weak because they’re not him.”

Megumi shrugged. “Doesn’t make it not true.”

Well, he had her there, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. “So, you weren’t any help. You seem to be upset about this. Is it because you tried to help but couldn’t?”

His brows furrowed for a moment before he looked away from her. Bingo.

“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. Because maybe I can help.”

He sighed again, finally meeting her gaze with a flat look. “Gojo said the same thing.”

She leaned forward, grin near maniacal. If she could pull off something Gojo couldn’t, she’d rub it in his face for the rest of her life. “Gojo’s technique doesn’t amplify another sorcerer’s cursed energy.”

For the first time, Megumi gave her a genuine reaction. His eyes rounded for a full second before he composed himself. “You can amplify my cursed energy?”

She nodded. No matter how indifferent he tried to act, she could see the curiosity shining in his midnight eyes. “My technique is called Solo Forbidden Area. It’s more suited for buffing up other sorcerers, but I can apply it to myself if I wanted to.”

Megumi was trying so hard to play it cool. “So, you help people get stronger?”

“Yes, if they need it. A lot of sorcerers don’t ask for my help though. Their pride won’t allow themselves the boost. That’s why I want to be a teacher.”

“To help students who need help with their techniques?”

She smiled. “I figure if I can guide sorcerers before they get too arrogant, my contribution to the world will be bigger than if I just applied my technique to myself. Plus,” she shrugged, “I’ve always liked helping people.”

Megumi stared at her for a long moment, eyes flicking from one corner of her face to the other. He was assessing her. She held her breath. For a child, his gaze was so intense. He would be a force to be reckoned with when he got older.

“I can’t subjugate my shikigami,” he said suddenly. He was still assessing her, as if daring her to make fun of him for it.

She nodded, thinking his comment over in her head. “Okay, show me.”

Megumi’s eyes rounded again before he glanced around the room. “Like … now?”

Utahime suppressed a giggle. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Awkwardly, he got up from the table and stood in front of it. He gauged his surroundings to determine if he had enough room before he took a stance and slapped his hands together. They took the shape of a howling wolf. His face burned from embarrassment, but he stared straight ahead and shook with the force of his concentration.

The shadows at his feet began to squirm and move, and a snarling wolf head erupted from the floor. Its ferociousness startled both of them, and Megumi panicked and closed the door on his shikigami before it could maul him to death. The wolf’s head transformed into inky liquid and dissolved back into the shadows. A sharp exhale exploded out of him, and he slouched from the exertion. Disappointment was clear to see in his face.

She stood up. Reluctantly, she could admit that having Gojo’s eyes right about now would be beneficial. She would have been able to see the flow of Megumi’s cursed energy and determine where it was waning and where it was maybe burning too brightly. She couldn’t do anything about that, but she could focus on what she could see.

“Pull your feet in a little,” she instructed, nudging his foot with her own. “You’re too wide. They should be about hip-width apart. Keep your core tight and lower your body so your center of gravity is more stable. You should feel your weight shift to your heels. Keep your back flat. This not only improves blood circulation, but the flow of your cursed energy as well.”

His muscles trembled a little, but his stance was nearly perfect.

“Close your eyes.”

When he did, she began.

Solo Forbidden Area could be elevated into a ritual if need be. If Utahime used hand signs, dancing, and music, it would raise the technique’s effectiveness by 120 percent. That was not necessary here, so she stuck with just her hand signs.

She closed her own eyes, and her hands began to blur as they signed different shapes quickly, one after the other. The light she saw through her eyelids dimmed, and she sank into the place she always went to when she funneled her technique’s power. It was a cool, dark room with candles flooding the space, flames lit in searing blue. The person she was channeling her power into stood in the center of the room, gaze unseeing. She weaved through the maze of candles until she stood right in front of them.

Then she grabbed them.

Megumi gasped, and her eyes flew open in time to watch him jump back. He looked down at his arms in disbelief. He could feel it then. The rush of cool strength running through his veins. She hadn’t been completely honest with him earlier. While it was true some sorcerers didn’t ask for her help out of pride, some asked her too frequently. The feelings she could induce could be extremely addicting.

“Now,” she said softly, crouching down so that she was eye-level with him. “Try again.”

Megumi hesitated, looking from his arms to her, but he resumed his stance and closed his eyes. His breathing was slow and calm. He raised his hands and brought them together. The howling wolf took form in the shape of his hands before it ripped through reality and crashed onto the floor. He stumbled back with a gasp as not one but two giant wolves shook off the fall before howling out in unison. Tsumiki could be heard racing through the apartment, and she skid to a halt at the threshold, mouth dropping in shock.

“Divine Dogs,” Megumi breathed out in awe. He shook himself and quickly took the same stance. His fists tightened in front of his body, and he poured out his cursed energy into the beasts as they turned on him with drooling growls.

Their reaction was immediate, and they stopped their advancement. After a second, they sat back on their haunches and wagged their tails. Megumi hesitated briefly before he gingerly reached out and touched the fur of the white wolf, jumping back slightly when the black wolf snuffled at his fingers.

“Puppies!” Tsumiki suddenly squealed, racing forward and hugging the black wolf around its large throat, causing it to yelp. As its twin brother choked, the white wolf happily wagged its tail and started sniffing all over her.

Utahime crossed her arms over her chest as pride swelled within her, and she couldn’t hide the large grin on her face when Megumi looked up at her with amazement. “Good job,” she whispered.

A sparkle had entered the boy’s eyes. His smile was small, but it changed his whole demeanor. “Thanks.”

While the kids were busy marveling over the fluffy shikigami, Utahime skipped over to the kotatsu and grabbed her phone. She snapped several photos and sent them immediately to Satoru.

^{Eat your heart out, Gojo [MMS; IMAGE] [MMS; IMAGE] [MMS; IMAGE] Sent 9:53AM}

She cackled when Gojo’s name suddenly flashed across her screen. Let the rubbing in commence.

Chapter Text

Manami swore viciously as she ended the call that’d gone to voicemail once again. She dropped it onto the desk and continued hurriedly stuffing papers into her briefcase. She yanked the drawers open and ripped out the files, shoving them into her leather tote bag. She could feel the weight of the Six Eyes on her from down the street.

Ever since Negi’s death, she’d been all over Japan trying to outrun Gojo Satoru who’d become a veritable hound dog hot on her trail. And now she’d been found out. How? How had he found her? She’d erased her name off everything at headquarters, she’d redacted all her electronic signatures, and she’d left no paper trail since the 13th.

So, how?

Getou wasn’t answering his phone—he always answered his phone. Nanako had the only working phone in that blasted domain, but if she didn’t have it then no one else should.

If she’d known she would have been found out today, she would have tried a little harder to get in contact with the boss before now. Now, she was staring down death’s door. Every day she cursed her technique’s overbearing limitations. If she could just rewind time!

The Six Eyes drew closer. She could feel it. That slow ascent up the city blocks. The pressure swelled and swelled until Manami’s heart was slamming against her ribcage, just as desperate to escape this hell.

She flung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her suitcase before sprinting across the room and grabbing the door handle, ripping it open—

Only for the Six Eyes to disappear.

Manami froze.

Cautiously, she glanced around. It was gone. The pressure was gone. Her lungs burned, and she stumbled back with a gasp. She had truly stopped all movement, and now she felt too dizzy to stand.

She couldn’t get complacent now. She righted herself and pulled her bag tighter over her shoulder. She didn’t care if the Six Eyes had up and disappeared, she was getting the hell out of here. Gojo could come back at any second. She reached for the door handle once more.

If she made it out of this alive, she was getting on the first flight out to Shanghai. She had plenty of contacts among the mafia, the true ruling body over curse users in China. She had been in connection with The Triads since 2007. The only reason she hadn’t shipped off sooner was because, as murderous as they were, they didn’t share the same sentiment that non-sorcerers as a whole needed to be exterminated. Human genocide was bad for business.

The door flung open, but she stopped abruptly at the person blocking her path—a person she, unfortunately, recognized.

“Zenin Naoya,” she uttered stiffly. “I’m sorry, but I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“Tough shit,” Naoya growled and shoved his way into the room. She stumbled back with a glare as he surveyed the room with obvious distaste. He shot her a glare of his own. “We both know you’re not actually busy—you’re fleeing. What’s wrong? Things not going according to plan?”

She sneered, eyes flicking up and down him coldly. “Why would I tell you anything?”

“Because your boss and I have a deal, and I feel he’s not being as forthcoming with information as was agreed. He’s done just the bare minimum—enough to not be killed by the pact we agreed on.”

“Then I’ll be sure to let him know. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

A blade was pressed up against her throat in a second. Another man had appeared out of nowhere, fast like a shadow, wearing a red Tengu mask and all-black clothing.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to tell me what your boss has been up to this past week, and you’re going to tell me now. I may not be able to do anything against you, but this hired goon of the Akasofu Clan can.”

Despite the sweat trickling down her brow, she kept up her glare. Right. How could she forget that this man was the heir to one of the Three Big Families? He was used to getting the utmost respect out of men and absolute servitude from women. Traditionalist pig. The pact he agreed to with Getou must have her protected against the Zenins, but the Zenins were nothing if not snakes. She had to be careful with her words.

“I don’t know. I’ve been in long-distance contact with—”

“Then get him on the phone.”

“He hasn’t been answering me all morning!”

Naoya’s glare sharpened, and the Akasofu Clan member leaned ever so closer. She swallowed, and an acute pain across her throat made her wince. “Then for your sake,” he growled lowly, “you better hope he answers now.”

Gojo waited among the masses with his hands in his pockets and a pair of vintage Matsuda sunglasses over his eyes. His snug, crew-neck sweater and fitted slacks were simple, but he was drawing gazes left and right. Like the weight of the Six Eyes to a curse, he could feel the weight of every non-sorcerer staring him down.

If only he were in a better mood. He could have flirted his way into free karaoke, arcade gaming, or brunch. Whichever he fancied most. Too bad he was on a mission—and his target was in sight.

The lights turned red, and the crowds flooded the streets. He let himself be swept along with the tide, feeling the barest buzz of his Infinity as he was accidentally (or maybe not so accidentally) brushed up against. His eyes never left the cursed energy signature in the expensive hotel down the road.

He could very well teleport there right here, right now. But this chick had been evading him for the last four days, and he was just a little pissed off about it. He wanted her to feel him drawing nearer. He wanted that fear to overcome her, knowing her time was running out, knowing there was nothing she could do about it, knowing that when he got his hands on her—

Satoru stopped in his tracks, and his crystalline eyes snapped to the side to see the news report in the window of an old media shop. TVs stacked on TVs with different resolutions all played the same channel—except the one in the corner that was randomly on a game show—while speakers blared out the coverage into the bustling city streets. It was only loud enough that someone walking directly under the overhang could have heard it, but Gojo only needed to hear “phenomenon” to know it was curse-related.

And anything that could change the weather would have to be of high-grade. And anything of high-grade meant it had the chance of already belonging to one man.

“I’m on an abandoned—”

Those words had tumbled around in his head for days. On an abandoned what? What had she been trying to tell him?

But Satoru wasn’t listening anymore. Abandoned island. It made so much sense now. He could laugh at the absurdity of it all. He’d been searching for Suguru for days, and this was how he found him?

He looked back down the street in search of his target, but she had slipped out from under his nose while he’d been distracted. No matter. He didn’t need her anymore.

He’d found his true target.

“And that’s how Mimiko got grounded for a whole month!” Nanako exclaimed with the smuggest smile, fists poised on her hips.

Shoko hid her snort of laughter behind her hand, but Mai fell over cackling and Maki clutched at her stomach as she wheezed. They were all lounging around the futon with Shoko on her side, head propped up by her hand while the twins leaned back against her. The shoji doors had been shut, but Getou’s girls had brought a bunch of warm lanterns to fill up and illuminate the space.

Beet red in the face, Mimiko glared at her sister hotly. “Yeah? Well—well, you also got grounded from your phone for a whole month because you switched Manami and Getou’s outfits in the middle of that important meeting!”

Shoko subtly cupped her hand over her mouth, but her shoulders shook as laughter took over her. Maki and Mai gasped, but their shit-eating grins were too much to bear.

Nanako’s face flared red. “That was when I was little!”

Mimiko ignored her and looked smugly at Shoko and the girls. “Getou was so mad I thought he was gonna chase us around the church with his curses!”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“He was with—like—twenty people, and then poof! He’s wearing Manami’s pink dress-thingy! And Getou’s robes were so big they almost fell off Manami in the middle of the room!”

Shoko couldn’t help it. A laugh burst forth from her lips. The thought of Getou suddenly wearing a bright pink skirt and blouse in front of twenty corporate big shots had her stomach hurting from trying to hold back her laughter. Big, scary, murderous Getou—she wheezed and shut her eyes, hand shooting down to the burning sensation in her stomach.

Oh, God, she was crying with laughter.

The fusuma slid open, and Shoko was in the middle of sitting up and wiping at her eyes when Getou’s smooth voice slipped into the room. “Why do I feel like I’ve been made into the butt of a bad joke?”

Through bleary eyes, she saw Getou in his giant monk robes, and the image of him in a woman’s business suit had her falling into another round of choked cackles.

“Well, that’s certainly not the reaction I was expecting.”

“I was just telling Shoko and Maki and Mai about how Nana swapped you and Manami’s clothes at that one meeting!” Mimiko helpfully supplied with a beaming smile. Nanako slumped forward and hid her burning face in her hands with a groan.

Getou’s polite smile morphed into an exasperated frown. “Ah, that. Thank you, Mimiko, for sharing.”

“You’re welcome.”

He sighed. “If you wouldn’t mind, girls, I would like to talk to Shoko alone.”

Mimiko and Nanako gave him a chorused, “Kay!” and rose, but Maki and Mai huddled closer to Shoko. She, herself, really didn’t want them to leave, and she really didn’t want to hear what Getou had to say, but she made no move to speak out against him.

Maki glared at him despite her nervousness. “Are you here to make Shoko sad again?”

She sighed. Maybe she should have shooed them out of the room after all. “Go on, Maki, I’ll be okay.”

The twins looked back and forth between her and Getou, but Getou aimed a patient smile at them. It wasn’t very genuine, but the fact he wasn’t sneering down at them gave Shoko pause. “I promise not to make Shoko sad again.”

Maki, though, wouldn’t relent. “Shoko says your promises don’t mean anything.”

She sat up and pulled Maki around, nudging her face to look at her. “Hey,” she said softly. “I meant it when I said I would be okay. You don’t have to protect me, Maki.” She smiled teasingly then. “At least not until you’ve had training, remember?”

The girl stared back into her eyes, unafraid to look away. Her mouth thinned into a disappointed frown, and all the negative emotions she tried to bottle up were reflected in her hazel-green gaze. “Okay,” she sighed finally, and her shoulders dropped.

All four of them quietly left the room, but Maki and Mai paused long enough to look back over their shoulders. Shoko’s heart lurched, but she kept the feeling from showing on her face. It was so clear to see in their faces just how much they cared, and Shoko didn’t even think Getou or Gojo ever showed her that much.

She saw them off with a smile, but it dropped when the fusuma closed behind them. Daringly, her eyes lifted to meet Getou’s, but the man said nothing as he quietly padded into the room. He sat down before her in the center of the warm lamplight. It made him look younger, softer. It was a dangerous look.

“I made you sad?” he asked quietly. His disarming smile, the one he always wore to make him appear not-so-scary, had softened as well. It was genuine, and the sadness behind it was genuine too.

“The girls think you’re the reason I’m not eating,” she deflected. She gestured to the completely cleared trays as if to disprove that theory.

Getou’s eyes never moved away from her own. “Am I the reason?”

You certainly didn’t help. She snorted. “I haven’t had much of an appetite since they showed up at the school.”

Neither said anything for a moment, and the quiet that settled between them was only interrupted by the hushed, rolling thunder in the background. Shoko watched him. She watched how he seemed to be reading her as much as she was trying to read him. Neither’s defenses were very penetrable; he hid behind a charming smile, she behind a wall of iron. Yet, knowing the other was hiding, and being so good at it yourself, was the key to discerning the other’s emotions—if just barely. It was why they both reached for distractions when in each other’s company. Cigarettes, turning and looking elsewhere, drinking their coffee. It drew the eye away, it deflected, it hid them.

But they had no such distractions now. They only had their walls, and someone was bound to raise the white flag sooner or later.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he finally said after what felt like an eternity.

She couldn’t find her voice, so she nodded wordlessly.

His shoulders were tense. She wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “I notified Naoya this morning that I had the twins in my sight. I’ll be expected to deliver them in the next few days.”

Shoko froze. Her wall fell instantly, and every emotion she didn’t want him to see came crashing to the surface. Betrayal, hurt, anger, fear—everything burst forth and choked out any response she could have given.

“But that’s not going to happen.”

Her gaze snapped to his, but she held back the hope that dared to bloom. Her breath exploded out of her in a quiet huff, and she sat up immediately. “It’s not?” she asked carefully.

His walls had fallen too, and he looked at her with an expression she couldn’t name, but it made her heart squeeze in her chest. “I told him I have the twins in my sight, that much is true. But I’m not going to hand them over. I just have to figure out how to keep him at bay until I’ve completed my investigation.”

If anyone could do it, Suguru could. She moved closer, trying to keep sight of his eyes. She couldn’t be fooled. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for his schemes. She couldn’t afford to believe a lie. “Is that why you whisked us away to this place? To keep the Zenins away?”

Lightning flashed close by, but the shadows it cast didn’t seem so stark in the soft lighting. “In part. You being involved changed everything.”

Shoko couldn’t confront that comment right now. She had to stay focused. She couldn’t be diverted. “And the other part?”

“I never intended to allow the Zenins to go through with the plan to recreate another Toji. The world doesn’t need another monster like him roaming around undetected.”

But a monster like you is acceptable? she almost said, but that would just derail the entire conversation into another fight. She didn’t want a fight. If Getou was talking to her, after everything that happened between them, that meant there was still some hope right?

“What are you investigating?” she asked instead. “The Higher-Ups’ involvement?”

He nodded. “Naoya allowed me full access to the Toji case as assurance it would work on the twins. I’ve been sending the files to my organization to see what they can find on their end. In return for the documents, I’ve been feeding Naoya plausible misinformation over the last four days as a means of stalling, but I can only hold him off for so long before he becomes suspicious. It was another reason I ignored you for those two days.”

She grabbed her pack of cigarettes and quickly lit one up. She sighed out the smoke as the soothing sensation spread through her. The girls weren’t in here, so she didn’t feel that guilty. “What are you planning on finding in the Toji case?”

“Allocated funds, written authorization, or anything of the like that I can trace back to the Higher-Ups. My secretary’s cursed technique comes in handy at times like this.”

She nodded, trying to follow along without being overwhelmed. Getou’s support could change everything. It was one thing if one of the strongest sorcerers in history was on their side—it was another if two got involved. “I’m sure you’ll explain just how she’s so helpful?”

He leaned forward and plucked the cigarette from her grasp. Her eyes fell to his lips as he effortlessly pulled the smoke into his lungs. The way he leaned back, his easy confidence, the way the smoke fell out of his mouth—she had to resist the urge to lean forward and inhale it back into her own lungs. His gaze watched her like a hawk, and his smile was predatory. “Her technique is called Past Reflection, but it’s her extension techniques I find most interesting. When she uses Unmaking, anything organic that was once made in the past and still there in the present can be unmade.”

Shoko’s mind blanked out. “That’s … impressive.” Almost as impressive as Gojo’s Infinity. So, there had to be a catch. Otherwise, she’d be marked Special Grade.

Getou shrugged. “Maybe if it had been an inherited technique to one of the Three Big Sorcerer Families, but in the Suda line its limitations mark its downfall. It can only affect organic matter, and it is further limited to things that can only be held within the palm of her hand.”

Her brows quirked. “So … she can unmake … say, a flower?”

He nodded. “Correct. Another extension, Rewind, is basically the same concept except it stops Unmaking in the middle of its process. Instead of the flower being completely unmade into nothing, she could stop the process while it’s a seed.”

She didn’t understand how that could be useful in any real situation. “That’s … cool, I guess.”

Suguru snorted and went to take another drag off her cigarette, but she leaned forward and snatched it out of his grip. He didn’t appear bothered. Rather, he leaned back and watched her. “The part that’s useful is that it can be anything organic. Meaning, she can unmake contracts or rewind signatures. Even if it’s typed up on a computer, she can print it off and completely alter what’s written—and it will reflect the new version even in inorganic matter like a computer. Not only that, but Past Reflection reveals all of the past. If the Higher-Ups had written anything damning and then had it deleted, covered up, or hidden in any way, her technique would reveal what had once been said.”

Oh. Oh, that could be useful.

“That’s why you’re so sure you’ll find something with the Higher-Ups. You’d be able to clear your name—” She stopped. He’d be able to clear his name, but he would only sully it again once he massacred another village of non-sorcerers. His beliefs of a world without them were still so deeply rooted in him. She found his gaze, and something within her flared up. She leaned forward, slowly burning up the space between them. “Suguru, you’ve got to stop this. You’ve got a chance to fix everything. If Manami finds evidence against the Higher-Ups, about human experimentation on sorcerer children, jujutsu society would be in an uproar. Gojo would have no issues with destroying them—you would be able to destroy them without repercussions. We could make this right.” We could go back to how we used to be.

Getou looked down and laughed through his nose, shaking his head. “What you said … both times, it’s been all I’ve thought about.”

His fingers grazed hers, and her gaze snapped down to watch him cover her hand with his own. That familiar thrill skittered up her spine, and she knew what it meant. She’d been denying the truth ever since she’d seen him that first day here. It was funny. She’d never liked him in school. Getou was just … Getou. Just like Gojo was Gojo. They were attractive, but they were both menaces she wouldn’t have shared a bed with—in that way—even if Gojo shelled out all the money in his bank account. She still thought that way about Gojo. He was beautiful, sure, but there was no attraction.

But Getou? His beauty was subjective. It wasn’t in-your-face obvious. It was his charming smile and calm confidence that wooed women. But he had been nothing more than a dumb kid to her.

Suguru wasn’t a kid anymore. It was clear in his powerful shoulders, his strong jaw, the knowledge that his confidence was backed by techniques that could level an entire country.

“Yeah?” She swallowed. Her ears sounded like they were ringing, and her face was hot. The cigarette in her hand had burned down to the filter.

“It made me realize something,” he said lowly, and the rough timbre of his voice made another shiver dance through her body all the way down to her toes. His face drew near, and she couldn’t decide whether to stare at his lips as he spoke or his eyes as they seared over every inch of her skin.

“Yeah?” God, she sounded pathetic, but her mouth was dry and her mind was hardly on the conversation. Every time she spoke, his gaze landed on her mouth, and she wanted to do everything in her power to keep his attention there. She licked her lips, and like a hawk he watched her.

She could feel his breath on her face. What were they talking about? Did it matter? It had to matter because there was no way she’d be letting him get this close if he still planned on murdering Maki. And he didn’t want to do that—right? Right. Because he was closing in, and now their lips were a hair’s breadth apart.

“I was thinking,” he said against her lips, and she just wanted him to stop talking already, “about how useful Maki could be.”

What?

The haze cleared, and Shoko pulled back. “What?”

Getou looked a bit frustrated, so he hurriedly clarified. “Maki. You were right, Shoko. I get it now. The world doesn’t need to be completely purged of non-sorcerers, just the ones unwilling to change. I said it last night, but I’ve thought more about it since then. Maki could be useful—she could be the example.”

It was like ice had been dumped all over her, and she reared back even more. “What are you talking about—example? You’re going to use her? For your messed-up world?” Her voice had grown louder and louder until she was practically shouting.

Getou leaned back with a hurt look. “Shoko, I’m trying to compromise—”

“You can’t compromise on genocide!”

“I’m not—” He stopped and whirled around, and she watched a terrifying anger distort his features. He cursed viciously, and just as Shoko was going to demand what the hell was wrong with him, the booming thunder overhead was abruptly cut off. Bright light flooded the room. Shoko shot up and raced over to the shoji doors. She threw them open, and there—standing above the world—was Gojo Satoru.

Chapter Text

As soon as Shoko found him hovering in the sky, he disappeared. His presence felt like a raging fire when he reappeared directly behind her. She barely had time to turn around before his fingers were biting ruthlessly into her arm. She blinked, and they were gone. When she blinked again, they were in Mimiko’s room.

Getou’s girls screamed out in fear, but Maki and Mai leapt to their feet.

“Gojo!” Mai shouted.

“No time for chit-chat,” he said gruffly and grabbed both girls by the arms single-handedly. They were gone before they could even protest his rough hold.

Shoko gasped when they reappeared in the middle of the Fushiguros’ apartment, and Maki and Mai fell to the ground with queasy expressions. Shoko wasn’t given even a moment to breathe before she was being crushed in Utahime’s embrace.

“I was so worried!” she cried loudly in Shoko’s ear. “Gojo’s been looking non-stop every day!” She leaned back and started looking over her face and body. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything—say something!”

“Hime,” Satoru called to her and gently pulled the woman back by the shoulders. “You gotta give her time to say something.”

But Shoko didn’t know what to say even as the room quieted. She was still reeling from the teleportation. She didn’t know if her stomach was in knots because she just jumped through space or if it was from the conversation in the domain. Her face was still hot from when she had nearly let Getou kiss her—nearly let him do a lot more than that—while he still planned on killing innocent people. He was going to use Maki as some shining example—the monkey that evolved enough to speak but would never be human in his eyes.

“Shoko?” Utahime’s soft voice shook her out of her thoughts. She blinked and found everyone in the room staring at her. Uta, Satoru, Megumi, Tsumiki, Maki, Mai …

Say something. Anything.

“I’m okay,” she said. She nodded along to the words as if she believed them. “I’m … I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Good idea. You reek!” Gojo said through a pinched nose. He jumped away from Utahime when she rounded on him and tried to slap him.

“Gojo, you jerk! Can’t you see she’s just gone through something traumatic!”

“Uh, yeah? Six Eyes, remember? I see everything, Hime-chan, but I’m not using my eyes to smell that nasty B.O.—”

“SHUT UP, YOU INSENSITIVE ASS!”

Shoko quickly left the room while they continued to bicker, and she closed the door behind her and took a deep breath when she was finally alone. It wasn’t the silence she appreciated—she could still hear shouting from the other room—but it was the solitude she was so grateful for.

She shed her clothes and went about turning on the shower robotically. The showerhead hissed and spurted out an ice-cold spray for a long moment before the pressure finally caught up, and it was another long moment of standing there with nothing on while she waited for the water to heat up. She stood in the shower for an undetermined amount of time just thinking about everything, but eventually the weight of it all came crashing down on her, and it was too much to stay standing. If she had any tears in her, it was the perfect time to cry. No one could hear her. No one could see her.

But she didn’t have any tears. A cold numbness had spread through her chest, and not even the heat from the water could warm her up. It was pointless, even, for her to still be in the tub. With one arm, she shut off the shower, but she remained there crouched in on herself for a little while longer.

The moment just before she kissed Getou kept replaying in her mind. It was so fuzzy, like it had all been a dream. How it turned so quickly into a nightmare, she didn’t know. Maybe she reacted too strongly? He had wanted to make an exception for Maki—an exception he hadn’t even made for his parents. That was a huge step. People didn’t just change their worldviews overnight. It only looked like he had three years ago because she and Gojo hadn’t paid enough attention to him.

He had shown he was capable of progress. Right? So, maybe with time—maybe with Satoru beating the truth into him—he’d go back to the way he was. It was a possibility. He just needed guidance. He needed to get away from the cultish followers he’d surrounded himself with. His echo chamber of moral superiority had only pushed him further down the path, but if he got away from it …

Why was she doing all this?

She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and blew out a harsh breath. Was she doing this because Getou was her friend? Because she believed he could be saved? Because she wanted things to go back to how they used to be? Because as much as she cared about Gojo, and as much as he cared about her, it would never be the same without Getou?

It hurt sometimes when Satoru would come around demanding her time and energy. It didn’t take a genius to know he wasn’t always pestering her for her. He used her like a band-aid to his bullet hole. She was his normal, his nostalgia. She represented the good times, and he clung to her so he could cling to them.

It was okay, though, because she did the very same thing. She allowed herself to be annoyed, to be dragged out of the morgue, to go out with the whole crew—what was left of it—and let herself be hung off of like a coat rack. They asked her how she could put up with him, his obnoxious behavior, his reckless plans. She would just shrug and smile because the answer—the real answer—was too cruel to speak aloud.

Gojo and Shoko would never be Gojo and Getou, and without Getou, there was no Gojo and Getou and Shoko.

She sighed and pulled the shower curtain aside. Folded on the outdated, pink toilet seat were a set of new clothes. She stared at the items before a soft laugh escaped her. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. Leave it to Gojo to find it acceptable to warp into a bathroom while someone’s using the shower.

Gojo and Shoko might never be Gojo and Getou, but the idiot still cared about her. That much was obvious. And, begrudgingly, she could admit that if Gojo ever ended up on her gurney … well, she didn’t want to know what kind of husk she’d become.

She stepped out of the bathroom in immodest, low-rise leather pants (Utahime had probably chosen her outfit, but there was no way she realized just what Mei Mei had picked out for her) and a burgundy, off-the-shoulder sweater that thankfully covered her lower belly.

Maki shuffled by her quietly, arms loaded with her fluffy robe and a change of clothes. She stopped long enough to look up at Shoko, and there was so much that went unsaid between them. The girl was tired, she was relieved, she was upset, and she was so many other things all packed away in a little body.

“Me too,” Shoko whispered, ruffling her hair. “Me too.”

Maki nodded wordlessly and continued on into the bathroom. Shoko trudged into the living room and found Gojo lounging on the couch—when had they gotten a couch?—and typing away at his phone. He peered up and shook his phone at her, grin big on his face. “I’m being hailed as a hero!”

She snorted and flopped down onto the sectional, head falling next to his thigh and hair spilling out around her in damp clumps. Utahime and Tsumiki were in the kitchen, Megumi was blowing things up on the screen, and Mai was sitting silently beside him watching. “No one’s regarding you as a hero, Satoru,” she muttered. “You’re probably doing damage control so Getou’s name isn’t brought up.”

The chiming paused. It started up again too quickly, and Satoru sighed in mock exasperation. “Why the long face, Shoko? You’re practically a celebrity. Everyone’s been so worked up tryin’ to find you—and then I come in and save the day! Why, the Higher-Ups actually said I did a good job this time!”

At the mention of the Higher-Ups, the knot in her stomach twisted. “Did they?”

“Well, they said I finally did something good for once, but I’ll take it!”

She wasn’t really listening. Her mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once, but it was currently dredging up her teenage years and dumping a slew of still shots onto her, burying her under the memories. “Do you remember when the three of us stayed up late? And when I went to go to bed, you cried about me staying the night?” she asked suddenly.

The chiming stopped again. It didn’t start back up. “Yeah.”

She nodded, not bothering to elaborate. “I woke up to your foot on my stomach.”

“How is that possible? I’m so much taller than you.”

“Dunno. You sleep like your body’s being possessed, though.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m like an angel when I sleep—one of those cute, baby angels.”

“Too bad you’re not actually that cute.”

“Mean!”

“Am not.”

“Are too! You’re even mean in your sleep.”

Her brow scrunched, and she tilted her chin up to look at him. “How?”

“You slapped me in your sleep that night.”

Her eyes widened. “Did not.”

“Did too. Su—” He paused, and Shoko waited. Would he say it? Would he say his name? After a short moment, he said, “Suguru laughed so hard he farted.”

A chuckle was wrung out of her, genuine but tired, and she looked back up at the ceiling. “I wish I could have heard that.”

“Nah. Then you’d have been awake to smell it.”

She breathed out another laugh, but the silence that stretched afterward felt weighted. She let her eyes slip close. “I think I’m gonna take a nap.” She could feel it then. The return of the cold that seeped into her chest. It tumbled around in her heart, bled into her limbs until they were heavy.

The chiming started up again. “You won’t be able to slap me this time.”

She smiled. “Don’t be so sure.”

Utahime came humming out of the kitchen but faltered when she saw Shoko asleep. Her eyes darted to Satoru typing annoyingly loud next to her and Megumi blasting alien butt on the screen.

Something was wrong. Shoko was the lightest sleeper she knew. Unless she poured all of her RCT into someone on top of pulling an all-nighter, or she drank herself under the table, there was no way she’d be able to stay asleep right now.

Utahime quietly made her way over to her prone friend, checking with a feather-light touch to make sure she really was asleep. Shoko didn’t even stir.

“Gojo,” she hissed, but the man didn’t even bother looking up from his phone. “Gojo,” she tried again.

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong with Shoko?”

No response.

“Hey … Gojo!”

“Yes, senpai?”

She blinked at him. She would never get used to him calling her that, and he only ever did it to get a rise out of her. “Is this normal?” she went on to say and pointed down at her best friend, but again Satoru never even looked up. Not that he probably needed to. “Gojo!”

He sighed and finally looked up from his phone. “Hime-chan, you’ve got this all backward.”

“Got what backward?”

“I’m supposed to be the one who annoys you.”

Utahime’s fury instantly hit the roof, but just as she was about to curse him out and probably scare every child in this apartment, Gojo quickly put a finger to his lips and shushed her.

“Ah ah ah, Shoko is sleeping. Be more considerate.”

She very carefully lowered her volume, but her rage still burned bright. “Gojo, I’m going to kill you.”

“Hime-chan, Shoko’s not that kind of doctor. If you’re delusional, I’d suggest seeing—”

She growled and stormed off. “Tsumiki! We’re going to bake something!” she shouted angrily from within the kitchen.

Tsumiki, ever-patient Tsumiki who had never even left the kitchen, happily obliged her with a cheerful, “Okay!”

Satoru snorted in amusement and finally set down his phone. The Higher-Ups were demanding an audience with him. They wanted Shoko back on Jujutsu High’s campus so a full report from Yaga could validate his claims, and they wanted the culprit’s name. If Satoru lied too heavily, it would come back to bite him in the ass since the Zenins had to be involved with Getou. How else did it explain Getou showing up here on the Fushiguros’ door right after the Zenins attacked? Granted he killed them, but it was too coincidental for them not to be working together, and Naoya wasn’t above sacrificing some pawns. But that meant the Zenins had to have a way of ratting him out without uncovering their own involvement to Headquarters. However, that might not even matter if the Zenins have the Higher-Ups in their back pocket. He could just tell the truth and say it was Getou … but then they’d doubly demand Suguru’s head. And who would have to take him out? Satoru himself.

This was all such a delicate situation, and he didn’t do too well with delicate situations. The best he could do for now was stall.

He peered down at Shoko. He hadn’t wanted to worry Utahime, but Shoko wasn’t doing too good. He remembered during their second year—way before the Star Plasma Vessel mission—how Yaga had brought Shoko into his office one day. She left it looking like a zombie. She hadn’t responded to his teasings or Suguru’s questions. She’d gone to bed and slept for three days. Barely ate, barely moved. It took him and Suguru both blasting her door off its hinges and dragging her—literally—out of bed to get her back to acting like a human.

She told them then that her mom had committed suicide.

So, what the hell did Suguru do to her to have her end up like this? She’d been going downhill for years—ever since that bastard walked. Looking at her hurt most days. He could see how she treated herself, how she was slowly falling down the apathetic rabbit hole. How she no longer cared about anything. She used to laugh all the time. She used to come up with wild ideas and make bets with him and Suguru. She used to care. She might have always had that nonchalant personality, that calm, cool, and collected attitude, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care. He’d watched as every day she seemed a little more lifeless, a little more indifferent. Being in the morgue cutting up their friends’ bodies didn’t help, but this had all started before she became the school’s only doctor. It all started just after Suguru left—it had just taken him a long time to finally notice it.

It was why he bounced back so quickly after. He vowed he’d never let Suguru’s defection drag him down. He was the strongest. Nothing would stop him from being his loud, boisterous, obnoxiously smug self. He thought that by maybe acting this way around Shoko, she’d bounce back too.

When that didn’t immediately happen, he thought maybe she just needed more time. Maybe, if he kept it up, it would eventually come to pass. It didn’t.

But, what he’d been wanting to see did finally happen after only one day of caring for Maki and Mai. It was subtle. So subtle not even Utahime had noticed. But he saw everything. It was why he’d pushed her so hard not to give up on them back at the hotel. If she did, she would continue to give up on herself.

He couldn’t lose another friend.

His phone pinged with another message, but he dropped it onto the floor without a care for what it said. He stretched out and sighed. He hadn’t seen Suguru in years, and now that he had, he felt the same way he felt after their last conversation—their true last conversation back in Shinjuku three years ago. He felt wrung out, tired, old.

He looked back down at Shoko and huffed out a laugh. For old times’ sake, a nap couldn’t hurt. It was just her, the kids, and Hime. There were no curses, no Higher-Ups, no one to pretend for. He slouched back against the cushions, scooting down until his legs were hanging off the sectional’s long side. The cursed energy signatures in the apartment flickered and swayed behind his eyelids, fading and blurring out until the darkness finally swallowed him whole.

Utahime sighed and dusted the remaining flour onto her apron before wiping the sweat off her brow. Shoko didn’t like sweets, and she was right up there with her, but they both liked scones. Gojo would surely complain that they weren’t sugary enough, but that was okay because they were not for him. He could have the cake in the fridge.

She quickly washed her hands and came around the corner, just about to warn the man to not even think about complaining but stopped abruptly. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she watched Maki tuck a blanket around Shoko and Mai carefully place one over Gojo. Satoru’s long-limbed body was completely limp and half-hanging off the cushions, head tilted toward Shoko who had rolled onto her side facing the couch.

These idiots, she thought fondly. She’d never seen Gojo let down his guard this much, and she hadn’t seen Shoko sleep like this while sober in … ever. They were both so guarded, and she knew why, but it hurt to watch both of them struggle all the time when they thought no one noticed. Shoko never thought she was good enough, and Gojo was all or nothing—either he had to be the god everyone expected him to be or he was worth less than the dirt under his Infinity.

“I’ve never seen him sleep before,” Megumi said from the side. He’d paused his game to watch the twins put blankets over the adults.

“Of course he has to sleep sometime,” Tsumiki giggled as she walked out of the kitchen.

Utahime sighed and shook her head. “Let’s let them sleep in peace. Megumi, turn your game down. Mai, why don’t you go take a shower now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” both children quietly replied, and Utahime nodded to herself. She wished she could take a nap herself, but that history report wouldn’t write itself.

Well, at least the house was quiet. For now.

Chapter Text

“Shoko, wake up.”

Shoko refused.

“Shoko, c’mon! It’s called a nap, not a sleep!”

Shoko wasn’t even fully conscious, but even she knew that made no sense.

“Shokooo. Shooookooo!”

If she just ignored him, he would eventually leave. The gangly Satorus Annoyasaurus would realize she was dead, and it would stalk off in search of new prey.

“SHOKO!” he screamed right in her ear.

Shoko reared up and swung her fist. She should have known playing dead wouldn’t work. The man was a damn scavenger. Her fist hit his Infinity, and she hissed and pulled it back against her chest. “Fucking—what do you want, Satoru!”

Satoru snickered. “Look at you, gettin’ all mad. I thought you excelled at playing dead on the outside and the inside.”

She slumped back against the cushions and cast him a flat look. “What can I say, you bring out the best in me,” she said as dryly as she possibly could.

Gojo plopped down on the couch beside her and lounged back. “What I’m hearing is that I should definitely keep doing what I’m doing.”

Shoko sighed and wiped at her face. “Why did you wake me up?”

“We need to talk about what happened.”

She paused mid-action, and her head snapped up and around. “Girls?” she called loudly.

“They’re upstairs,” he stated, and Shoko felt a sigh of relief leave her. “I kicked everyone out. Utahime’s watching all four of ‘em.”

She snorted. “You couldn’t have just woken me up and taken me upstairs? I could smoke on the roof.”

Gojo cocked his head to the side. “And have Maki and Mai witness how cranky you can be? I’ll spare them for now.”

“How generous of you.”

The silence that followed stretched. Satoru was waiting.

We need to talk about what happened. Right. So much had gone down over the last few days. She didn’t know what was worse, the fact she would have to think about the Zenins’ plans all over again, the fact that she would have to talk about Suguru to Satoru of all people, or the reminder of what she and Suguru had developed.

“Where do I even start?” she sighed and wiped at her face again. She could feel it from the heaviness in her eyes just how deep into her sleep she had been. She was so tired still.

“Usually, people like to begin stories from the beginning. Though, sometimes an author will start it off in the middle and then go back for some odd reason, like character development or whatever, but personally I’ve never understood that considering the stakes are no longer high—I mean, you know that character survives, so why even—”

“Satoru.”

“Huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Mean,” he pouted.

She sighed again. “I got ambushed by a few Zenins—the Kukuru Unit swordsmen. I held ‘em off for a bit, but I was running on fumes.” She remembered Maki and Mai’s screams so vividly, and she closed her eyes against the onslaught. “I really thought that was gonna be it. But then …”

“Then Getou showed up.”

She looked up and met his gaze, though the bandages stopped her from staring into his eyes. “Yeah. I passed out after that. Then I woke up in that domain.”

He was silent as she paused to gather herself. He was about to hear what hell she had to have gone through, and she was about to hear herself explain it all from the top, reliving every moment once more.

“The domain felt familiar somehow. You opened up the doors, and you came into this hallway, but the hallway never ended. Every door was some room, and it repeated over and over again. It was Suguru who found us, and when he did, he made some comment about me being a zookeeper because of Maki.”

“He’s still on about that?”

“You know he is. Hearing him actually say it himself pissed me off. So, I slapped the shit out of him.”

Satoru choked. “You did?”

She breathed out a laugh. “Yeah. My hand hurt for like an hour after that. But he wanted to talk to me. Had these two kids of his own—”

“He has kids?”

“I’ll explain them later. He took me to the kitchen while my—” she cleared her throat, “—Mai and Maki played with them. I sat down, he made me coffee, and he told me about the Zenins’ plan.”

Satoru was rubbing at his jaw. “He made you coffee?”

She lounged back against the couch and stared at him. “Really? That’s the part you’re hung up on?”

He shrugged defensively.

She ignored him. “Anyway, he asked me if I knew … if I remembered Toji. Turns out he was a twin.”

Satoru turned away and looked out over the living room. She didn’t need to see his eyes to know the wheels were turning.

“The Zenin Clan tortured them both. Toji had hardly any cursed energy, and Teji had a very weak technique. When Teji died and used all his cursed energy to make a sword, he took all of Toji’s cursed energy with him.”

“I always wondered how that bastard managed to have absolutely no cursed energy. So, that’s why his Heavenly Restriction was so strong. Now the Zenins are trying to recreate that monster.”

She blinked. “That was fast.”

He shrugged, this time accompanied by a small smile. “I am a genius.”

“Very humble too. They’re doing it to put you in check.”

“The Higher-Ups in on it? No way they don’t know.”

She sighed. “We don’t have any proof. That’s … that’s not it, though.” When she heard nothing from him, she took a deep breath. This was going to suck. “The year Getou defected and killed everyone in that village, he’d stumbled across all their human experimentation equipment. Those girls I mentioned earlier? They’re twins too. How he described them in that state …” She didn’t need to say more.

“That’s why he burnt down the village, and because the Higher-Ups are in on it, they sacked him.” His brow scrunched under the bandages. “Then why—”

“Because he still believed a world without non-sorcerers was a good thing. He used that instance to fuel his bigoted hatred.”

“Even though the Higher-Ups are the puppet masters to all this shit?”

Shoko watched as agitation slowly took hold of him. It was rare that things could get to him, but the quickest and surest way to see it happen was to talk about Suguru. “You’re not saying anything I haven’t already brought up.” She stared up at the ceiling. She was going to regret this, but … “I think … I think he’s capable of changing, though.”

Satoru swung his legs over the side of the couch and stood up. She’d never seen Gojo pace before. She was already regretting having opened her mouth, but she was in this deep.

“I mean it, Satoru. I said—I told him about what you told me.” About your birth inspiring every monster to grow stronger, evolve, change for the absolute worse. “You should have seen his face. I told him how someone powerful like him came from non-sorcerers and—” here went nothing, “—if you just talked to him—”

Satoru’s long limbs ate up the tiny space. Without skipping a beat, he shot her down. “No.”

She stood to her feet. She had to get through to him. If she couldn’t get through to Suguru, she needed to get through to the only person who could. “Just listen, Satoru, I saw it. He didn’t flip a switch overnight, but I could see that he was changing.”

But Satoru wasn’t listening. He was shaking his head, pace gaining speed. He almost barreled into her in his agitation.

Shoko, though, couldn’t stop now. Getting Getou back would fix everything. It had to. “He just needs his ass handed to him. He needs to hear the truth and not whatever his cult continues feeding him. If I could get him thinking in just a few days, then you—”

Satoru whirled on her. “Don’t you think I tried!”

She stumbled back, that cold feeling snapping through her chest as the freeze response activated in her body. Her heart was pounding, but Satoru was not her father. She had to push through. “When’s the last time you actually tried? Three years ago? You can hardly even say his name, I doubt you’ve had the balls to see him face to face!”

Satoru laughed nastily. “Like you’re one to talk, Shoko. All you know how to do is run from your problems!”

It was like a slap to the face. She could feel the burn of it engulf her. “At least I’m not running now! At least I’ve tried talking to him! For someone who claimed to be his best friend, you haven’t done shit!”

“I’VE BEEN ORDERED TO KILL HIM!”

Shoko reared back, suddenly under the most horrible pressure she’d ever felt in her life. She couldn’t breathe—she couldn’t move—

It was gone just as suddenly, and she dropped to the floor with a gasp.

“Me, Shoko, me! The guy who can kill anyone. I am the strongest—stronger that Getou. I could kill him. I know it. He knows it. The fact that I haven’t says a lot! Even the Higher-Ups see it, so don’t tell me I haven’t done shit!”

But Shoko was done listening. She was trying to stand, and when she could, she was stumbling toward the door.

“Shoko? Sho—shit, Shoko! Shoko, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed when he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Like she’d burned him, he reared back, but that was all she saw before she turned back around and yanked the door open. “Don’t follow me.”

“Shoko, I’m—”

The words smacked against the door as it slammed shut in his face. He breathed out a harsh breath and crouched down to the floor as all his strength left him.

For the third time in his life, Gojo Satoru felt truly and utterly hopeless.

Shoko didn’t know what to do with the feelings in her chest. What did you do when it felt like you were going to burst? She was so done with crying, yet even as she resented the act, she felt her sore eyes prickling and the lump in her throat choking her. She wanted to slam her fist into the nearest brick wall—she’d just heal herself, right? What did it even matter if she shattered every bone in her hand? Would it at least distract her from the pain in her chest?

How dare he. How dare he stand there and accuse her of running away when all he ever did was half-ass his own responsibilities. Wasn’t it better to walk away from something you knew you couldn’t do? What was the point in trying when you knew you’d fail? And then he’d—he’d—

A sob escaped her, and she felt herself growing so angry she reared back and slammed her fist into the apartment’s brick. She stifled her scream as she dropped to the ground, clutching it to her chest.

She hated this. She hated all of this. Why couldn’t things just go back to how they used to be? When she didn’t care? When she didn’t have to try? She could do what she was good at—heal, examine bodies, incinerate the dead along with all her feelings for that person. Why did she have to be the one chosen for this? Why did she have to be the one to get Maki and Mai? Why did she have to get taken? By Getou of all people? Why did she have to understand him now? Why couldn’t he just be evil? Why did she have to care? Why couldn’t she just leave it be? Everyone else stopped caring—everyone except Satoru, but even he refused to try. He believed he loved Getou most, that he cared more than she ever could, and yet what had he done to try and fix any of this besides refuse to kill the man?

The pain in her hand did not distract from the pain in her chest. In fact, it only compounded on the pressure until she wanted to scream for all she was worth. Her RCT kicked in, and she watched through her blurred vision as the skin stitched itself back together and the fragile bones under the flesh realigned and snapped back into place. Not even hairline fractures would remain, and the pain became nothing more than a memory.

She stared down at it, but her heavy eyes flicked to the side as she saw something shiny and black on the ground. Her cell phone. Carefully, she picked it up and flipped it open. She already knew what to expect, yet the disappointment upon seeing the black screen was somehow enough to rip another frustrated cry out of her.

She stumbled to her feet and shoved it into her pocket. For a long moment, she didn’t know what to do, so she just stood there staring at nothing in particular. She shivered in the bitter breeze, but like hell was she walking back into that apartment. She didn’t want to see Satoru or hear his excuses, his apologies, his pleas. The cold would be good for her. Clear her mind. She took off down the shaded alley, mind morbidly searching for any traces of blood left from the Kukuru Unit swordsmen. Whoever had come to clean up had done an expert’s job.

She shouldn’t be out here alone, but she really didn’t have anything to worry about. With Satoru still around, no one as weak as the Kukuru Unit would try anything on her, and anyone from The Hei would be sensed immediately. Beyond all that, she just didn’t care. How far could she push the boundaries if she walked down an ill-lit alley, forging deeper and deeper into the shadier side of the city where the buildings housed ghosts and the shadows stretched long and dark over everything?

Her mind was occupied by things far worse than curses anyway. It lashed out at both Gojo and Getou, her father, the Zenins, her cowardly mother, even at Utahime—it was irrational, fueled by desperate anger, a wild desire to pin the blame on someone, anyone, even herself. Oh, the nastiest things she could think about anyone were pale in comparison to the daggers she ripped through herself.

And you just let him do whatever the hell he wanted. You didn’t try to stop him. All you were good for was crying like the pathetic shit you are. You were so ready to roll over and let yourself be used by filth. He was going to make Maki into a weapon. You should have seen it coming. If Gojo can see it, why can’t you? They’ve only ever cared about each other. You were nothing more than the third wheel, but you just had to think you were so much more important than you actually were. They couldn’t even keep their promises to you! Why can’t you just give up, you stupid, fucking—

And she didn’t even stop herself, or argue, or fight back. She believed every word. Took the words into herself, let them soak into the fibers of her soul until they were hers.

Her house slipper landed in a deep, murky puddle with a splash. She looked down, and her reflection rippled in growing rings. Through them, she could see her dead eyes, the dark circles under them, her gaunt face. She looked like she was on the edge of becoming a cold, beautiful corpse. She could already feel the chill from within her spreading. If she closed her eyes to blink, should she open them back up? What was the point?

But her eyes did open, and they looked down at the quiet ripples in the puddle. Except, the ripples were frozen, half-formed in perfect circles around her watery image.

What the—

Satoru could sense it as soon as it happened. He jumped to his feet and whirled around, Six Eyes spearing through concrete and stone until every single cursed energy signature in a ten-mile radius was lit up.

All except Shoko’s.

He teleported up into the air, Infinity expanding until he was standing hundreds of feet above the city. The bandages were ripped from his face, eyes searching everywhere. No Shoko, no Zenins, no curses, no Getou. Nothing but ordinary people and curses too small to cause even non-sorcerers much harm.

He warped back into the apartment, this time upstairs. Utahime jumped at his sudden arrival, but her snappy comment died on her tongue when she saw the redness around his stark blue eyes.

“She’s gone,” he said before she could ask what happened.

Utahime looked like she’d just been slapped. “Gone? How—? I thought you guys were talking downstairs!” At the sound of her panicked voice, all the children came racing into the living room.

Satoru scrubbed at his face and raked his fingers through his hair. “We were, but then we started talking about Suguru, and she kept saying he could be saved, and I—I lost it, Hime. I—she left and told me not to follow her, and now she’s gone.”

“Who—?”

“I don’t know. I checked already. No residuals. No one could have possibly covered their tracks that fast. No—” He paused abruptly, and his otherworldly eyes narrowed.

Utahime watched the change, felt the rising pressure, and softly stepped forward despite the instinctual warnings going off in her head. When that searing gaze snapped to hers, she only felt slightly unnerved, but she was no threat to Gojo. Even at his most feral, he would recognize her. It was something she just knew without knowing why.

“What is it?” she asked with a quiet strength that belied the panic inside.

Satoru leaned back and blew out a slow breath. His eyes had gone cold, ice-like. “No one besides me is fast enough to disappear and cover their tracks at the same time. Not unless they were wearing the Cloak of Nihility.”

Shoko heard the sound of glass breaking before she was flung onto the hard, cement floors of what smelled like a musty dungeon. She gasped and whirled around, but she was only fast enough to see the iron bars of her cell door slamming shut.

The place she was being held was dark, dismal, and damp, yet there was no broken glass anywhere near her. Only cold concrete, a rusted cot in the corner, and a bucket that smelled horrible. A cloaked figure stood just outside her cell. They were tall, and the shadows that clung to the cloak hid their face from view. She felt her breath freeze in her chest as one of their hands revealed itself from beneath the fabric and lifted high above their head. Their fingers snatched the tip of the hood and pulled it back to reveal—

Zenin Naobito?

Chapter Text

Getou sat on the rooftop of one of his favorite hideouts in Kumamoto. The high-rise was tall enough that he could see the castle on a clear day like today. He’d relocated himself and the girls here earlier, but it had taken them hours to stop crying over the disappearance of their newfound friends. It amazed him, actually, to see Mimiko and Nanako so attached to someone other than himself. And to think, those Zenins were no better than non-sorcerers.

He sighed and rubbed his face. He could already hear Shoko’s words echoing through his head. He’d even made an exception for Maki, and she threw that back in his face like it was nothing.

“You can’t compromise on genocide!”

He knew that, but you couldn’t tell him that billionaires in the non-sorcerer world profiting off the sale of trafficked sorcerer children deserved to live. Working in the shady underbelly of the curse-user world exposed him to a lot of atrocities, and at the helm of these power-hungry syndicates were people who couldn’t even see the curses they manifested.

Maki could have been an example of the type of person the world could come to accept. She couldn’t see curses, but she could become aware of what little cursed energy she did produce and control it.

He pulled out a hard case from the pocket in his long robes and flipped it open. He gently plucked out some round frames and held them up to the light. The lenses were made of normal glass, but around them flickered and flared some of his own cursed energy. It was next to nothing for him to create a cursed tool, but he never needed tools when a stronger curse could do the job just fine.

The round glass reflected his image back at him, but in that reflection, he only saw a man. He didn’t consider himself to be a monster even if the rest of Jujutsu society did. He knew that innocent, non-sorcerer children grew up to be lazy, entitled, reckless, selfish non-sorcerer adults. They helped contribute to the greater problem. However, if they could be taught …

He hadn’t listened to her then, but Tsukumo Yuki had given him other options besides wiping out humanity. Either she wanted to get rid of cursed energy altogether, or she wanted to teach the world how to control it. Both seemed impossible at the time, and he still couldn’t forgive the previous Time Vessel Association for what they had done. He didn’t think he could forgive other organizations who were just like them.

But maybe …

He shook his head with another sigh, pocketed the spectacles, and tried calling Manami again. When the girls had finally calmed down, he’d stepped away from them long enough to call her, but she was no longer answering despite all the missed calls from earlier. Nanako had looked so guilty she’d nearly burst into tears telling him how she hadn’t heard the phone go off while she was with Shoko and the Zenin twins.

For all he knew, Manami was dead now. Satoru had already taken out Negi, and she had tried to call him just before Satoru showed up and took Shoko away.

The voicemail played once again, so he hung up. If she wasn’t dead, she’d tucked tail and run. He couldn’t even blame her. Besides himself, anyone going up against Gojo Satoru was a guaranteed death sentence. He just hoped she’d been able to pawn off her findings to the mindless minions under her, though even then—without her keen abilities—he didn’t have much hope in finding any evidence against the Higher-Ups.

“Getou?”

He peered over his shoulder at the doorway, left open because the breeze wasn’t bad today. Mimiko and Nanako stood side by side, hands held together, with teary-eyed expressions that tore at his heart. He quickly pocketed his phone and grabbed the metal chair by the railing. It scraped against the tiled rooftop as he sat down and patted his knee.

They came scampering over to him, and both girls climbed up into his lap with their bony knees digging into his thighs as they got settled. He grunted as they curled their weight into his chest—they were getting a little too big to still be doing this, but he couldn’t help but indulge them when they aimed those big, puppy-dog eyes his way. If Satoru could see him now, he’d have teased him mercilessly for sure.

“What’s wrong, you two?” he murmured softly to them. “Still upset about earlier?” He felt Nanako nod against his chest.

Mimiko pulled back and looked up at him. “Getou?” Her voice was as small as it was back when he’d first found her.

His hand came up and smoothed down her dark brown hair. “Yes, Mimi?”

“Maki said—” Already tears were forming in her doe eyes. “M-Maki said that you don’t like her b-because she doesn’t have a lot of cursed energy like we do.” She swallowed and wiped at her tears with her wrist. “So—So, we wanted—we wanted to know—” But her face crumpled, and a sob ripped out of her.

Getou’s eyes blew wide, and his hand froze. “Wanted to know what? Mimiko, what’s the matter?”

It was Nanako who leaned back, more put together but dark eyes just as shiny. “We wanted to know if you would hate us if we didn’t have any cursed energy.”

It was like a curse had just ripped through his chest. His mouth dropped open, and his mind blanked. His first instinct was to immediately reply with a resounding no because he loved both his girls. They were his world. He couldn’t imagine life without them, and if they were ever taken from him then he would massacre everyone in his path until his death toll rivaled that of the infamous Sukuna.

But for a horrifyingly brief second, his mind whispered, Would I?

Because even if every non-sorcerer in the world could be taught, they were still far beneath the sorcerers of this world. There were no benefits to their existence. They were just there, existing, with no greater purpose or goal that wasn’t steeped in selfishness—so would he love Mimiko and Nanako? Could he?

Whatever his answer might have been, it hadn’t come fast enough. Mimiko’s tear-streaked face crumpled all over again. She scrambled off his leg and took off for the door, wailing the most heart-wrenching cries he’d ever heard in his life. Nanako stared at him with a look of utter devastation before she jumped off his leg and raced after her sister.

He sprang to his feet so fast the metal chair flew back and clattered to the ground. “Nanako—”

The door slammed shut behind her.

He stood staring at it for a long time, frozen stiff and mind tumbling with thoughts that tried to throw him into one direction or another. Their horrified faces would haunt him forever. Should he go after them? What was his answer? He loved them—but did he really? Could he love them if they weren’t sorcerer children?

Yes, he realized too little, too late. The shame of how long it took him to come to that conclusion choked him, and all the strength in his legs gave out as he hit his knees. His hands came up to rub his face, but he paused just before they could. He looked over every line and callus on his palms and wondered how much blood coated them that he couldn’t see. How much of that blood was deserved—like the blood of the villagers—and how much was not?

His parents’ faces flashed across the back of his eyelids, and that horrible pain spasmed in his chest once again. No. When he’d cremated their bodies, he’d burned away all their memories in the flames. He refused to think about them now.

His cell phone suddenly blared, and he truly felt that whoever was on the other line was calling just to spite him in some way. He thought about ignoring it, but he took a deep breath and pulled it out of his pocket. It could be Manami. He would give the girls time to calm down before going to talk to them, but when he did, he would assure them to the ends of the earth that he would always love them no matter what.

“Hello?” He slowly stood to his feet and went to right his chair.

Nothing but the soft sounds of breathing came through the receiver. His eyes narrowed, and a million thoughts began to race through his mind as to who was calling him. The Zenins? Manami? Anyone from the Time Vessel Association?

“Who is this?” he demanded coolly. His dark expression vanished as the last person he ever expected to hear spoke. “Maki?”

Maki watched Utahime and Gojo argue back and forth about what to do. Gojo was going to go blow up the Zenin Estate, and Utahime kept angrily talking him out of it because Shoko could be there and then she would die.

There was a horrible pain in her chest as thoughts of Shoko being tortured by Naobito and Naoya rushed through her mind. She didn’t want to lose any more people she loved. And she loved Shoko. Shoko was always sad, but she was good. She understood Maki, knew what she was thinking without Maki having to say a thing. She was patient, and kind, and funny in a not-funny way. She stood up for both Maki and Mai, even to her own best friend, the scary man with the long hair.

Mai was grabbing onto Maki’s gray turtleneck sleeve so tight she was bound to rip it off. Big, fat tears dripped down her face, but Mai was trying to silence her sobs as she watched the adults fight. Maki, though, refused to cry. She hardly ever cried because if she did, Mai would cry worse. She had to protect Mai, and now she had to protect Shoko too.

She set her mouth into a hard line and shook off her sister. Before Mai could whine, she took off down the hall to the bedroom. They’d all squeezed into the room to watch a movie on Utahime’s laptop before Gojo came. There, on the rolled-out futon, was Utahime’s cell phone. From her pocket, she pulled out a scrap of crumpled up paper.

“Shoko says we can’t stay here forever.”

“But why not?” Mimiko pouted.

“Because we have to go back. We’re always on the run.”

“We used to be like that too,” Nanako said with a sad look. “But Getou always made sure we had a place to stay. Here—” She ran over to her pink desk and pulled out a small notebook. Ripping out a piece of paper, she then grabbed a sparkly pencil and wrote something down on it. She ran back over to Maki and Mai with a big smile on her face and held out her hand. “This way, you can always call and talk to us.”

Mai gasped. “You mean we can stay friends? Even though … even though Getou doesn’t like us?”

Mimiko frowned. “Why doesn’t Getou like you?”

“Because we don’t have enough cursed energy,” Maki said with a frustrated sigh.

Mimiko and Nanako shared a long, silent look, but they both shrugged after a moment. “We don’t care how much cursed energy you have. We like you guys! So here, take this.” Nanako shoved the piece of paper at Maki. “Make sure you don’t lose it!”

With a shaky thumb, she unfolded the paper and dialed the number scribbled on it.

Her heart leapt in her chest at the first ring, but she swallowed down her fear. Just like Shoko taught her, she just had to tell the person on the other side what she wanted. It didn’t matter if it was Getou. Getou may not like her, but he liked Shoko, and that was all that mattered.

“Hello?”

His deep voice sent shivers down her spine, and she froze up just as the words tried to rush out of her.

“Who is this?” he demanded, and her heart jumped at his scary tone.

“It-It’s Maki,” she managed to get out.

“Maki?” He didn’t sound as scary anymore, but her heart was still slamming in her chest. He didn’t like her—he hated people like her. Was he going to hang up before she got the chance to say anything?

Speak! she snapped at herself.

“Shoko’s missing!” she said suddenly, and the tears she’d been holding back started to pool in her eyes. Her lip trembled, and her nose began to run. She rubbed it and sniffed in frustration. She hated crying.

“What?”

His tone was back to being that horrifyingly deep, scary tone he had when they first met, but Maki ignored her cold shivers and pounding heart. “Shoko’s missing. Gojo said someone took her and covered their residuals or whatever, and now he’s fighting with Utahime. I know you’re friends with Shoko, so you have to help her!” Her voice had grown more and more desperate, cracking near the end. She’d felt hopeless so many times throughout her life that she’d grown used to the disappointment, the constant moving, the goodbyes to people she thought would stay, but now—now was different. Now she knew what hope really felt like, and she was determined to hold onto it. Shoko couldn’t die—wouldn’t die.

Getou was silent for a long moment, and she strained her ears as she listened to his quiet breathing. Then, he said in a voice that sounded tired, “Is Gojo still there?”

She could hear him still arguing with Utahime in the living room. “Yeah.”

“Hand him the phone.”

“Okay,” she whispered and went to race out of the room, but Getou’s voice stopped her.

“—And Maki?”

She hesitated. “Y-Yes?”

“I hope you’re not attached to anyone in the Zenin Clan.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest. Youko was dead, and it was all Naoya’s fault. She took a deep breath and set her face into a look of determination. “I’m not.”

“Good.”

Shoko slumped back with a sigh. She’d gotten herself worked up for nothing. Here she thought she’d actually been in danger.

“And, that, my dear boy, is how you get things done,” Naobito said with a smug grin.

Slow clapping echoed around the room as the heir to the Zenin Clan emerged from the shadows. “I’ll admit, old man, I fully expected to become the clan head today. Didn’t think you had it in you to pull something like that off right under Gojo’s nose.”

Naobito threw back his head and gave a deep, belly laugh. “There’s much more for you to learn before you can stand as head of the Zenins, boy.”

Shoko stared at them both. Her mind was fumbling for answers as to why she was here, what they wanted from her, why she had been targeted instead. But she already knew. She was a hostage. Her in exchange for the girls.

She closed her eyes at the painful sensation spreading through her chest. She brought her knees up and leaned her head down against them. She’d just left this morning, but she already missed Getou’s domain where she could lounge around a rumpled futon and hang out with tiny people who were too sticky and loud and energetic for their own good.

“What? No crying? Demanding to be let go? How boring,” Naoya sighed from beyond the cell.

She shrugged, refusing to look up. “No point.”

“Well, you’re certainly smarter than the other two, I’ll give you that.”

Her head lolled to the side, and she stared up at him with one tired eye. “You don’t give them enough credit. They’ll figure out it was you. Then they’ll come find me.” You just made an enemy out of the strongest sorcerers in history, she didn’t bother saying. It was obvious. To her, to them, to everyone involved. Satoru would come for her—even after everything that just happened, he would do it. Getou? She truly didn’t know, but a piece of her dared to hope. Even if he didn’t, even if he killed that last little bit of hope in her by not showing up, Gojo Satoru would level the Zenin compound to the ground. Of that, she had no doubt.

Naoya crouched down until he was eye level with her, and his long smile was unsettling. “Do you think we haven’t thought of that? We’re not at the estate. Where we’re at, Gojo will never find you.”

She barked a harsh laugh suddenly, and even Naoya looked taken aback. That last little bit of hope bloomed like a rose inside her, and its thorns sank deep into her heart. “Then you’re stupider than I thought. Those boys love a good challenge. If not for my sake, they’ll find you just out of spite.”

Naoya stood to his feet, a natural sneer on his face. “I’m not worried about Getou. We have a pact keeping him in line, and as for Gojo? He’s the clan head now. Whatever he does directly affects the clan, so he can’t afford to act emotionally. If it comes down to it, I’m sure Jujutsu Headquarters would love to hear the excuse as to why you’ve been harboring Zenin minors without consent.”

She laughed again. A lightness had entered her head. She’d never been high, but she imagined this was what it had to feel like. “You forget who the three of us are. Getou still lives despite his execution order. Gojo does whatever the hell he wants, and no one can stop him. And if the Higher-Ups learn their only healer is a hostage, even the corrupt ones in your back pocket will turn on you.”

Naobito snorted and turned away from her. “You three are one in the same. Just as arrogant as the next. You’ve got no legs left to stand on.” His cell phone began to go off, and the beepy jingle sounded like it was from some ‘80s city pop band.

“I told you to turn that shit down,” Naoya snapped, rubbing his temple as if he’d already gotten a headache.

“I’ll turn it up louder if you keep whining, boy,” Naobito huffed and finally answered it. “Yes, what is it? What?” The man whirled around and locked eyes with Shoko.

“What is it?” Naoya growled, storming over to his father.

Naobito’s fingers bit into the device until the screen cracked and went dark. “The Zenin Estate—it’s been obliterated.”

“WHAT?”

From the back of the room, Shoko snorted. Even as they directed all their fury at her, she found herself grinning. “I told you. Don’t think you’ll ever be able to win in a pissing contest with Satoru.”

Naoya scoffed. “The Zenins don’t congregate at the estate all at the same time. I’d say hardly a third of us are dead.”

Naobito chucked the ruined cell phone against the nearest wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “The Hei, the Akashi, and the Kukuru Unit have already been dispersed. My brother has also already emptied the curse warehouse of all its tools and fled.”

Shoko shrugged, suddenly tired again. “Don’t care. Wake me when the boys get here.”

Naoya strode back over to the cage, and his hand dipped in his pocket to bring out his phone. “Why don’t I send them a little reminder of just who we have in our custody?”

“Leave her,” Naobito demanded. “We’ve got bigger issues here, and besides that, we can’t touch her if we want to live after all this.”

“It’s not like she can’t heal herself,” the younger of the two argued. His smile was sinister.

Naobito’s cold, beady eyes flicked up and down Shoko’s form before he turned away. “You’ve got a point there.”

Shoko met the heir’s stare with a dead-eyed look. After a moment, he sucked his teeth and turned, following his father and disappearing into the shadows. She released a slow breath when she heard a creaking door slam shut. All her bravado was gone now. She definitely hadn’t thought Naobito was much of a threat beforehand, but the transformation in his expression just then coupled with the appearance of his son changed things. She never wanted to underestimate ruthless men like that again.

She hadn’t wanted to look weak in front of them, and she was pretty good at acting now that she’d had to do it for so many years. She lifted her hand to her face, and even in the dim lighting, she could see she was trembling. She breathed out a chuckle and tucked it back into her lap where she could keep her fingers warm.

Satoru, please hurry. She’d apologize to him for everything as soon as she was out of here, and if Suguru did come to her rescue …

She’d stop at nothing until he was changed for the better. She’d never give up on him. Not ever again.

Chapter Text

Getou Suguru walked into the Zenin Estate’s disciplinary pit full of screaming, starved, hostile curses unscathed and at ease, and that’s exactly how he walked out. Cell phone pressed to his ear, he said lightly into the receiver, “Now you can blow up the place.”

He popped a mint into his mouth as he skirted by rushing maids he only marginally felt bad for. No one could stop him from leaving, Zenin or not, because anyone who had any sort of power was dead.

The council of clan elders who were all Special Grade 1 Sorcerers were slaughtered by a surprise attack from Tamamo-no-Mae's incarnate. Disguised as a beautiful maid bringing them tea, they hadn’t been able to even scream out before her foxfire boiled the blood in their veins. Their bones were black and brittle now, disintegrating as the wind swept through the burned down tea house and stole them from their own land.

He’d also taken the liberty of raiding the cursed warehouse full of the clan’s most prized tools. The only one who stood in his way was Ogi—Naobito’s brother—and it was laughable how the man who fathered Maki and Mai was more pathetic than his eight-year-old daughters. Tall and lanky with a high ponytail of black hair, Suguru couldn’t see the resemblance until Ogi glared at him. The man had only managed to pull out his sword before Getou slammed Playful Cloud into his skull. He blasted through the warehouse’s chained doors, and his splattered blood decorated the floors like abstract art under the many abstract weapons gleaming in the light of the clerestory windows.

He’d had to hold back a laugh as he fed Inventory Curse—Zenin Toji’s very own fanny pack worm—every cursed tool in the warehouse.

The last thing on his list had been the disciplinary pits where Grade 2 curses and below were kept. He’d swallowed every one, adding to his ever-growing collection. All the while, his every move had been observed from above.

Gojo Satoru watched Getou’s cursed energy signature—so much brighter and more controlled than anyone else’s—saunter off the property from his vantage point five hundred feet in the air. He was still within the confines of the curtain Getou set earlier. Yaga would be so proud.

Working with Suguru made it feel like old times. It made him want to laugh, crack jokes, do something reckless, but then he would be bombarded by their conversation in Shinjuku. It left him feeling lost, irritated, and withdrawn. This yo-yo of emotions forced him to push them all to the side and act purely on logic and instinct. Getou was regarded as an ally for now simply because they shared a common goal, so he made sure he was no longer on the property before he began.

With his Limitless technique self-amplified, he brought forth the conceptual impossibility of negative distance into reality. A grin surfaced on his face as he maximized his cursed energy output.

It was not a nice smile.

Every building on the Zenin Estate was torn off its foundations. Like a conductor for an orchestra, his arms moved fluidly as he manipulated Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue. The buildings whirled around in the air before colliding against each other, and the clamorous sounds were spectacular. Hundred-year-old trees were ripped from the ground, metal warped and screeched in protest, and wooden structures exploded into thousands of splintered pieces. He heard the screams of those caught up in the chaos, and with a flick of his fingers, he snatched them from the wreckage and flung their bodies off the property. If they broke an arm or leg from the fall, well ... they should have tried to get out quicker.

He could feel the effects of Blue wearing on him, but he also noticed the technique wasn’t as taxing as it used to be. His grin widened. Only when the land was cleared and gouged with deep scars did he bring his arms together. The mass of concrete, wood, trees, and dirt from the earth was packed together tighter and tighter the closer his palms neared one another. When he slammed his hands together, the mass imploded.

Fine debris rained down from the sky. His feet gently touched the ground, and the veil dispersed. He expected Getou’s reappearance, but seeing him casually walk up to him over the flattened land was still a blow straight to the chest.

“Good work,” Suguru commented, hands hidden in his wide sleeves.

Satoru stuffed his own hands in his uniform pockets. “Could say the same to you. I almost forgot about lowering a veil.”

Getou’s smile was ever-patient. “You never learn.”

“How would you know that?” He hadn’t meant for his tone to slip. What was the point of covering his eyes—the windows to his soul—with bandages if he was just going to give away whatever he was feeling in his voice?

Getou didn’t seem bothered. He simply shrugged and looked away, smile morphing into a knowing grin. “I keep tabs.”

“Ooh, a stalker. I’m flattered, Suguru.”

“You would be,” he scoffed lightly.

Satoru’s head snapped to the side, and his Six Eyes detected the presence of a small army headed their way. “Heads up,” he said just as they were surrounded. The Akashi—those with techniques yet couldn’t meet the requirements needed for The Hei—as well as the Kukuru Unit closed in on them from a distance.

Suguru sighed. “I feel we’ve been slighted, Satoru.”

Gojo pulled out a coin from his pants’ pocket. “Heads I take ‘em, tails they’re yours.”

“Why am I tails?”

“Because you’re an ass.”

Suguru laughed, and it was a deep sound that punched Satoru in the gut with its genuineness. “You’ve been hanging around Shoko too much.”

“One of us has to.” He flipped the coin up into the air and snatched it as it fell.

Heads.

He brought a single digit to his chest just as the swordsmen charged.

“Cursed Technique Reversal: Red.”

Utahime was up to her ears in children. When did she sign up for this? Who signed her up for this? She’d clobber them. She’d always been called the “mom friend,” but this was ridiculous. Wanting to be a teacher for high school students was one thing—being a babysitter for six little kids was a completely different ballgame. Speaking of ballgames, the Saitama Seibu Lions had lost the first stage series 0–2 yesterday to the Chiba Lotte Marines, and she had only been able to scream from the confines of her room rather than at the stadium like she wanted.

Not something to really be worried about when your best friend’s been taken hostage, but the game was yesterday and this was today. And today, Gojo and Getou had a plan to get her back.

Gojo’s spatial manipulation had taken him from Saitama to Getou’s location and back in just under an hour. She really hadn’t expected them to come back here at all when the Zenins were in Niigata, but when a knock rapped against the door, she’d opened it with a sword in hand only to freeze at the sight of Getou. His smile, always so condescending, had been plastered onto his face as he’d pushed an adorable brunette and an equally cute blonde into the apartment. They’d both squealed loudly in excitement upon seeing Maki and Mai, and the whole house erupted into chaos as Getou closed the door with a smile and a wave.

Utahime still planned to throttle that man when she saw him next, but she was thankful in a way for what he’d done. Video games alone weren’t enough to distract Maki from Shoko’s absence, and Mai hadn’t stopped crying since this morning. But at least now she was sniffling while giggling with Mimiko’s curse-animated doll. It wasn’t the same technique Yaga used, so Mimiko had to improvise with her own voices. Maki was showing Nanako how to play The Sims 3 on the PlayStation while arguing with Megumi over whether the Sims could still drown in the pool if you removed the ladder.

The answer was yes, but she wasn’t going to butt in on this development. Whatever distracted them from the looming cloud of Shoko’s disappearance was good enough for her.

Her heart throbbed as she lounged back against the couch on the floor, Tsumiki leaning up against her side. She’d just gotten Shoko back, and she was already gone. She hadn’t even gotten to speak to her really. What were the Zenins doing to her? Was she okay? When was Gojo going to call her and tell her she was found? What if word got out that Getou was working with Gojo?

She sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. She didn’t want to be thinking about all this. She needed a distraction too.

Tsumiki suddenly tugged on her jean overalls, and Utahime looked up to find her gentle smile. “Want to make cookies with me?”

What had the world done to deserve Tsumiki? She chuckled and pulled herself to her feet. In that tiny kitchen, they had probably made thirty desserts in the few days she’d been staying here. “Why don’t we make dinner instead? I think if we make one more batch of cookies, Megumi’s going to actually get sick.”

Tsumiki giggled and jumped to her feet. “I know how to make Shoko’s shogayaki!”

Utahime froze, and her heart throbbed once again. “She taught you how to make shogayaki?”

“Mm-hmm!”

“Did you say shogayaki?” Megumi’s voice suddenly piped up from his seat by the TV. Maki and Mai also turned around, expressions a precious mix of hungry and hopeful.

Oh, Shoko. You probably don’t even understand what this means.

In all the years she’d known Shoko, she’d never once made shogayaki, and after her mother’s death in April of 2006, she’d stopped eating takeout of it altogether. Utahime knew why—knew about all the memories associated with the dish. Whenever she offered to make it for Shoko, she would get a far-off look in her eye and say she wasn’t hungry.

She blinked back the burning sensation in her eyes and pushed up her sweater’s baggy sleeves. “Well then, let’s get started.”

Getou stood at the summit of Ichimichi Mountain and surveyed the valley down below. Satoru walked up beside him, hands in his pockets. He’d been quiet since they’d left the Zenin property—what was left of it anyway. There was a cold focus about him that Getou recognized.

Partly because he had felt the same the day he burned down that village. It was like flipping a switch on one’s humanity. There were many facets to Gojo that most people didn’t know about simply because he would never show them. Getou had witnessed them all. The cocky and arrogant brat, the cold-blooded killer, the free-thinking philosopher, the insane lunatic, the gentle big brother, and the withdrawn sociopath. What he projected for the world to see was the biggest lie he would ever tell.

Suguru was probably the only one who would ever be able to see through that lie. Or, at least, he used to be.

Neither wanted to think of the conversation they would inevitably have with one another. How it would go, how it would end up, where they would be once the dust settled. That had no relevance now. It would come with time. They were like magnets, Getou and Gojo. They either repelled each other with force, or they would snap back together just as violently.

For now, they had other priorities. They had been led here to the mountains by Getou’s Grade 2 curse, Predatory Obsessional. It was a bloodhound of a curse that, after obtaining the scent of a person (Shoko’s futon, to be exact), it would hunt down its victim with an obsessive, single-minded focus until it found them. No amount of distance would deter it. Once it found its victim, it would sexually assault them until the victim died.

Obviously, Getou would absolutely not let that happen to Shoko. In fact, this would be Predatory Obsessional’s final night alive. He would exorcise it before it got within three hundred feet of her location. If he didn’t, it would always be obsessed until it got its hands on her. He couldn’t have that.

Satoru’s Six Eyes would be able to determine her exact whereabouts once they were close enough.

“Nothing yet,” Satoru determined after a quick scan.

Getou hadn’t thought so since Predatory Obsessional, the large, unnatural-looking curse, was still sniffing at the ground with wild, unfocused eyes. It lunged down the mountain in wide, frog-like leaps as it made disgusting, gurgling noises. He sighed through his nose. They had to be getting close.

Satoru had had his fun earlier, but in the next fight, Naoya was his. After all, that was what they had agreed upon.

Suguru stared at Naoya across his desk. Both wore identical, diabolical grins neither could contain.

“I pledge a binding vow to financially support Getou Suguru’s Time Vessel Association, as well as provide any and all documentation over Zenin Toji’s case files, under the agreement he provides information on the whereabouts of Gojo Satoru as well as Zenin Maki and Zenin Mai. Failure to uphold this agreement will result in Getou Suguru’s immediate death.”

“I will agree to this binding vow with the additional condition that the Zenin Clan not touch my family before the binding vow is complete. I will restrict my cursed energy to 80% until the binding vow is complete. Failure to uphold this agreement by the Zenins will allow me to maximize my cursed energy against Zenin Naoya by 120%.”

Naoya’s grin had been all teeth at the conditions. “I see no problems with that. The binding vow will be considered complete once Zenin Maki and Mai are back with the Zenin Clan.”

“Sounds good to me.” And that had been that.

Naoya was under the impression that Getou’s “family” was limited to his organization. He should have known better. Anyone considered to be a weakness for Suguru would always be considered his family.

And that went doubly for Ieiri Shoko.

Shoko sighed heavily as she stared up at the stone ceiling. A candle just outside her iron cell was her only source of light, and her eyes continued to lose focus in the flickering shadows cast over the dungeon walls.

There was no one to talk to. Was that a blessing or a curse?

What time was it?

Her internal clock was busted. She couldn’t even go off her own state of hunger. Was she hungry? No. The thought of food made her nauseous.

Had the girls eaten yet? Utahime was watching them so of course they would eat dinner. She had nothing to worry about. They were in perfect hands.

Maybe Maki and Mai would want Utahime to take care of them after all this. Shoko had been better than nothing, but what would they think once a real motherly figure stepped in?

She could laugh at herself for how much that thought hurt. It’d been what, a week? And she was already attached? Did people even get attached to others that quickly? To anything that quickly? Probably not.

She didn’t get it, but every time Maki made some smartass comment or Mai looked at her with those big, round eyes, she just wanted to scoop them both up and squeeze the life out of them—in a good way, of course. There was this weird pride every time they said or did anything. Her walls didn’t crumble or break around them … they just simply didn’t exist. The hardest battles Shoko had fought recently were the ones where she had to keep composure every time Maki and Mai worried, cried, or asked her personal questions.

They just got her. They didn’t ask her to be better. They didn’t ask her to do more. They asked her to stay, to not leave. They asked her for the bare minimum, and even though that was sometimes all she could do, it made her want to try to do more.

And so … she just couldn’t understand it. If she could feel this way about Maki and Mai—two little girls she wasn’t even related to, who she had known for only a week—then why? Why couldn’t her parents feel the same way about her?

What changed? Why had her father looked at her with adoration one day and hatred the next? She had seen it in his eyes. It would always stick with her. How she could see the love pouring out of his gaze, and the next day his eyes were cold and hard like stones at the bottom of the sea.

“You’re just like your mother!” he’d scream just before he’d hit her. “Always seeing shit that isn’t there! Are you mocking me?”

Ah, it made sense now. Ieiri Ayuka had been able to see curses. She hadn’t been a sorcerer—not according to Tokyo Jujutsu High’s records. Shoko had looked. Her mother’s brother, Uncle Something or Other, hadn’t either—though she distinctly remembered him talking about curses as he drove her up to the school. At the time, she didn’t even know what a curse was. Uncle Whatever hadn’t even talked to the school board—he’d just dropped her off.

Yaga hadn’t known what to do with a girl who didn’t even know what Jujutsu society was or that curses—the things of nightmares that kept her up at night—weren’t part of her imagination. Satoru had thought she was the perfect target for endless teasing until Utahime had come flying into the office screaming and crying over some training accident. She'd broken her arm, and Shoko had walked over, gently grabbed it, and healed it. Point-blank, no fuss, without even putting her all into it, she’d healed a broken bone in front of everyone.

The Higher-Ups had immediately granted her a position at the school.

She snorted at the memory and turned over, curling in on herself as the memory faded and a new thought surfaced. What would Maki and Mai be like in high school? Would Jujutsu Headquarters even allow them access? What was their future going to look like after all this?

She didn’t know. She didn’t have any answers. But she did know one thing—she was willing to bind her life to theirs to ensure their survival. If it was the only thing she could do to convince the Higher-Ups to keep their hands off the twins, she would do it. If she had to lose Maki or Mai, Jujutsu society would lose its only healer.

Chapter Text

Satoru split from Suguru once they came across the Zenins’ hideout. It was clear Naobito had made the decision to escape while he could, and it was—objectively—a good call since Satoru could not track him.

The Six Eyes granted the user sight comparable to a high-definition camera, allowing the bearer to see things several miles away without issue. Though most sorcerers can see cursed energy if they concentrate, the Six Eyes cannot only effortlessly see the flow of cursed energy, it allows the bearer to see another’s cursed technique as well as determine its function. Because of this, it allows for perfect precision in manipulating cursed energy down to an atomic level—which is how one brings the Limitless into its full potential. Though any Gojo member can inherit the Limitless, only the bearer of the Six Eyes can master it. It was truly a remarkable gift.

It was no wonder then that the Zenins possessed a cursed tool that hid them from even the Six Eyes. Crafted by the head of the Zenins thousands of years ago to combat the first user of the Six Eyes, the Cloak of Nihility had been a passed-down treasure ever since. Its only downside was that, while it could hide cursed energy completely from the Six Eyes’ supreme sight, it could not hide the wearer from one’s normal vision. If Naobito was standing right in front of him, Satoru would be able to see him.

But Naobito was fast, and without the Six Eyes’ ability to track such a quick-moving target, Satoru was in for an actual challenge.

He grinned. This was going to be fun.

He had been in a panic when Shoko had first been taken, and Naobito’s fast cursed technique, hidden further by the cloak, had enabled him to slip under Satoru’s radar. Now, however, he was no longer in a panic. Above the trees, his eyes narrowed in on any possible movement. Swaying branches and thick underbrush could only hide so much from him—there.

He teleported directly in front of Naobito, feral grin wide on his face, and expanded his Infinity enough for it to slam into the Zenin head. Naobito was instantly behind him, throwing up a sword that Gojo blocked with his bare arm since it would never spear through Infinity. Tearing down a man’s pride was all part of the fun for Satoru as he continued to block and strike out at the sword-wielding man with just his hands. To add insult to injury, he stopped the blade with just his finger and laughed when Naobito growled out in frustration.

His opponent was gone in the blink of an eye. The chase was on again.

Satoru weaved through the trees in a blur of speed that would have easily had him catching up to Naobito if he had been able to track his cursed energy signature. It didn’t matter—he was closing in. Just up ahead was a flash of movement too unnatural to be from a tree. He lifted his hand, and a blast of red cursed energy shot through the forest. Massive trees cracked and exploded, crashing down with an echoing boom through the mountain valleys.

Naobito pivoted and disappeared.

Satoru’s laughter rang through the forest. His cursed techniques ripped trees out of the ground and sent them flying, cutting off path after path until there were enough gaps in the canopy to allow the bright moonlight to pierce through the leaves.

Naobito skidded to a halt and spun around to face Satoru head-on. He threw back his hood and glared as Satoru casually walked up to him. Both may have been clan heads, but Naobito knew he could not go up against the other in a one-on-one. No one really could.

“You gave up so quickly,” Satoru said with his hands in his pockets. He shrugged with a sigh. “And here I thought the great Zenin Naobito would actually be a challenge.”

Naobito huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe if you hadn’t stolen the Ten Shadows kid, you would have gotten the challenge you seek.”

“Maybe I would have. Maybe if your plan to recreate Toji hadn’t been thwarted by a mere servant, I’d have had another challenger.”

At that, Naobito’s jaw clenched. Not keeping enough eyes on the twins had been an oversight of dire proportions. Now the jig was up. He knew when he had lost, and he and his son were backed into a corner he couldn’t see a way out of. “Maybe,” he conceded.

“So, tell me,” Satoru suddenly said, hand coming out to gesture his exaggerated confusion. “Your plan was set in place way before I intervened with Megumi, so this wasn’t all some petty revenge.”

“You’re right about that,” he agreed reluctantly. Naobito heaved a huge sigh. If he was going to meet his end here tonight, he was dragging down the real culprits with him. “That’s because this plan was set in place before you were even born.”

“I never knew I was so popular.”

Naobito laughed humorlessly. “Your birth was foretold by Jujutsu Headquarters because your father possessed the Divine Eyes while the Limitless skipped him.”

Ah, so they knew.

The Six Eyes were an extremely rare, inherited gift of the Gojo family line, but so were the other Five Eyes of Buddha. Only by possessing all five can one unlock the sixth eye and gain enlightenment and become the honored one. If one inherited one of the Five Eyes of Buddha, they would be regarded as the predecessor of the Six Eyes bearer. However, if they also possessed Limitless, this nullified the chance since the Limitless technique skipped generations. Since Limitless had skipped Gojo Hideaki, the bearer of Divine Eyes, it was a near guarantee Satoru would inherit the Six Eyes.

It was why his mother, Gojo Naomi, had gone into hiding as soon as she found out she was pregnant.

“So, they were scared of a baby? Are you going to tell me they’re also the ones who put a bounty on my head when I was born?”

“That I don’t know, but it was obvious they were scared of what that baby would grow up to become—especially since you were raised by your father.” Naobito snorted. “Arrogant bastard. He never agreed with the Higher-Ups any more than the rest of us did, but he made it so obvious and well-known.”

That was true. Satoru grew up hearing his father constantly complain about how the Higher-Ups were handling things. As he grew older, he saw the ways in which Hideaki would try and push back, but he did not have the power to go up against them. Divine Eyes were a nice gift, but they were nothing in comparison to the Six Eyes. They just granted the bearer a similar, high-definition vision that spanned nearly 360° all around, but they did not give him access to seeing the Limitless and the cursed energy flow of all living things.

The man, powerless on his own, had vowed to get back at Jujutsu Headquarters somehow—and he did that by raising Satoru to challenge all authority. In retrospect, Satoru could attribute his god-complex to his father. It was something that had put a strain on his parents’ marriage while he was growing up.

“He’s become such a spoiled brat because of you! He disrespects me over everything and treats me like I’m stupid!”

“If we wish to push back against the powers of Jujutsu Headquarters, we must be willing to sacrifice things such as filial piety! If he cannot even stand up to us, Naomi, how will he stand up to the Higher-Ups!”

He’d been seven when he’d overheard that conversation. He didn’t understand it then, but now it made sense.

“They knew he would raise you to oppose them, so before you were born, they sought out my father. The Zenins and the Gojos have been enemies for hundreds of years. It was an obvious choice. They were willing to invest billions into creating a super soldier that could be on par with your capabilities. They thought they found the answer in Heavenly Restriction—and they were damn close! Toji should have been able to kill you that day.”

Satoru cocked his head to the side. “Toji wasn’t a Zenin by the time he came after me.”

Naobito waved that concern away. “All the Higher-Ups had to do was push the Time-something or other association in his direction when Tengen’s vessel popped up and you were given the orders to protect her. Damn bastard could have been lured to his grave with a banknote on the end of a stick.”

“Now I know you’re lying. The Higher-Ups wouldn’t endanger the merger with Tengen like that.”

“You think so? So, it was a coincidence there was another vessel that merged with him so soon after that girl’s death?” Naobito raised an eyebrow at him, and a slow grin spread across his face. “They had her on standby the whole time.”

Ice shot through Satoru’s veins, and his vision went white. Riko’s death … had been meaningless? The girl who wanted to live—the girl who had put on such a brave face but who had really just wanted to be normal. To go to school. To make friends and keep them. To laugh, and play, and swim in the ocean, and watch the sunset with a melon soda in hand, who wanted to travel, and see the world, and—and—

Satoru bent at the waist and dry-heaved. His breaths came out harsh and gasping. Naobito threw back his head and howled with laughter. The deep, grating sounds were abruptly cut off as Satoru’s raspy voice sliced through the night.

“Domain Expansion: Unlimited Void.”

“Found you,” Getou snarled as he threw a hand out. Predatory Obsessional screeched as a whirlwind of light surrounded it. In the palm of his hand, an ugly, plum-black cursed orb formed. His fingers flexed and bit down until the orb began to crack. Fractures raced over the surface as if it were glass, and then it burst into thousands of pieces.

Its disintegrating remains caught the wind, sweeping up and into the sky and past the smug sorcerer standing outside the perfectly camouflaged hideout.

Satoru had warped out once they realized Naobito was nowhere to be found. That left Suguru alone with Naoya. That was fine with him. He wanted to fight Naoya one-on-one with no interference. In one of the many valleys of the mountains, secluded as they were, there was no need for even a curtain to be lowered. They could go wild.

“Looks like I was right,” Naoya laughed bitterly. “You really are pathetic, Getou. Defecting over some snot-nosed kids, and now you come here to save the woman you love.” His smile morphed into an disgusted sneer. “How tragically poetic it’ll be when you die just before reaching her.”

Without a word, Getou lifted a hand, and a thousand small cockroach curses skittered out of the ground at his feet. His cursed energy flared, and it flowed into the creatures until they exploded in bulk. Now the size of small dogs, they transformed the ground into an undulating river of insects. With a flick of his hand, they charged with hoarse screams toward Naoya.

Naoya only looked mildly annoyed as he quickly sidestepped the mass of insects with ease. He became a blur of unchecked speed as he wove in and out, dodging each and every attack—capturing curses left and right and smashing straight through their frozen frames.

He was before Getou instantly.

Getou blocked a left jab, threw his body back in time to miss a lethal right kick, and swerved to block the blow to the head. Just as Naoya was an expert at hand-to-hand combat, so was he, and he landed a harsh open palm against the heir’s chest, throwing him back into the sea of writhing curses.

Naoya bellowed out in rage and burst forth from the swarm, disappearing in a flash until he was immediately before Geotu—slamming his fist right into Getou’s nose and throwing him back with equal force.

Naoya’s howling laughter surged up into the night as he fought off the countless weakling curses. His arms were indistinct as they moved with inhuman speed. With each press of his hands against the cockroaches, they were frozen and obliterated. “Is that all you got!” he shouted loud enough for his voice to crack.

He took off after Getou, so fast the curses beneath him caught fire under the tread of his shoes. Their screams tore through the night, and Naoya could only laugh as he was before Getou once mo—

Something slammed into him with the force of a train, and he was sent flying through the air. He landed hard enough to bounce off the rocks of the valley, kicking up plumes of dust around him. He snarled and looked up from the ground, spitting a wad of blood from his mouth.

Getou was dusting off his monk robes as a hideous-looking female curse hovered around him. “How does it feel to be thrown to the ground by a woman?” he snickered. The curse at his side, a Grade 1 known as Shikome, cackled along with him. She was a myth brought to life. Black teeth, heavy white makeup that accentuated her beastly features, and greasy black hair that hung to her feet. She was fast despite wearing too many traditional kimono layers, all scantily revealing her sagging chest.

“That thing’s a woman?” Naoya sneered as he got to his feet. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Shikome’s laughter cut off with an animalistic growl. Naoya eyed her and then Getou, disappearing in a blur of speed as he tried rounding to Getou’s blind spot. He slammed into the curse again and again, each time infuriating him until he screamed as he was once again thrown back. Getou’s fist was right before his eyes just as he hit the ground, and the blow sent him down into the dirt so hard the impact blasted a hole in the earth.

Naoya was gone by the time the dust settled. He blasted past Shikome, sending her careening to the side as he slammed into Getou’s side. They both crashed into the ground, and Getou’s cockroach curses screamed as they fled from the scene.

Naoya spat blood from his mouth for the second time, ready to curse Getou to the ends of the earth—but not before Getou unleashed yet another curse.

His grin was unhinged with eyes as sharp as obsidian as he uttered, “Dragon Court.”

Naoya blinked. He was suddenly no longer in the Hinohara mountains. He now stood in the middle of a courthouse, but this was no ordinary courthouse. The benches and podiums were made of colorful, stony coral. The huge bench for the judge was decorated in shimmering scales and sea glass and taken up by a massive, blue-green dragon with a head four times bigger than its snake-like body. Its head was so massive it rested on the bench while the rest of it slithered and whorled behind it. It had large, bulbous eyes the color of fresh blood and long whiskers like a catfish.

The gallery was full of spectating aquatic curses like stingrays, sea urchins, giant turtles, squid, or just creatures that looked straight out of storybooks. They were all whispering and hiding their comments behind their flippers or tentacles. He whirled around to find Getou standing smugly behind the plaintiff podium.

“You don’t have a domain expansion,” he snarled. “What the hell is this?”

Getou’s typical condescending smile was back. “You’re right. I don’t, but my curses do. This is Dragon Court. It is only one of the many buildings in the complex of Dragon Palace. The Dragon God of the Sea is an enormously powerful Special Grade—but it is a double-edged sword. Dragon Court is laid out when the plaintiff—that’s me, by the way—wants justice upheld. The defendant, you, can defend yourself however you please. If you make a sound enough argument, and Dragon God of the Sea sides with you, the domain’s sure hit is granted to you instead of me. Throughout the hearing, the Scales of Justice will either tip toward you or me until the judge makes his decision.”

Naoya narrowed his eyes and glared over at the massive dragon head. It stared back at him unblinking, eyes as large as dinner plates. “What justice are you needing upheld? As far as I’m concerned, I upheld our pact! In fact, it was you who infringed upon the agreement!”

The dragon’s large head swiveled toward Getou at a speed that rivaled Naoya’s cursed technique.

Getou tipped his head to the side. “Oh? How so?”

The dragon head swiveled to him now.

Naoya wanted to rip that smile off his face with his bare hands. “You lied about Gojo’s whereabouts. You said he was headed to Sendai, then how he was actually going to Osaka, but I had someone watching the Iori girl who reported being under fire of the Six Eyes at the same time!”

The Scales of Justice tipped slightly toward Naoya. The Zenin heir’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought he’d actually stood a chance.

Getou, however, didn’t look the least bit concerned. “I mentioned he was in Saitama first. That was not a lie—”

“So, you admit you did lie.”

The dragon head swiveled to Getou.

“Our pact never explicitly stated I had to give accurate reports. I told you his movements based on where I thought he might go—which is what you hired me for.”

The scales evened out, and Naoya snarled at the dragon’s expressionless face now pointed at him.

“You, however, went back on our agreement by harming a member of my family before the binding vow was considered complete.”

Naoya sneered. “You talking about that secretary of yours? I didn’t lay a hand on her—I hired someone from the Akasofu Clan to take her out.”

Getou’s smug smile froze, and Naoya perked up at the change in expression. His grin resurfaced, all teeth with eyes shining in the wavering light of the underwater palace. “Oh? You didn’t know? You weren’t producing satisfactory results, so I took matters into my own hands to see what was taking you so long to find the girls. Turns out your secretary wasn’t very competent. If you think about it, I did you a favor in getting rid of her.”

Shadows stretched over Getou’s face. “I wasn’t talking about Manami. I was talking about Shoko. You laid a hand on her.”

The scales tipped toward Getou.

Naoya curled his lip. “Shoko’s not part of your family, and furthermore, it was my old man that took her—not me. Your complaint holds no weight.”

The scales evened out, and the dragon snapped its head in Getou’s direction once again. The man’s condescending smile was back.

“The pact specifically said the Zenin Clan was not to touch my family.”

The scales started listing to his side.

“The Zenins also grabbed her on the 13th of October. I decided to forgive the incident since it was so early in our agreement and I was able to kill them effortlessly. However, you not only laid your hands on her again, you kidnapped her.”

The scales kept lowering.

Naoya’s eyes snapped from the scales to the dragon’s massive eyes staring him down before directing his rage to the man before him. “You never stated who was part of your family! She wasn’t mentioned in the binding vow!”

“Family is a social construct, Naoya. It is subjective. You did not require specifics.”

A loud, resonating click echoed throughout the room. The Scales of Justice had favored Getou Suguru in this trial. The Dragon God of the Sea’s jaws opened wide, and a massive ball of cursed energy crackled from its mouth like lightning. With the conditions of the pact set in place beforehand, the amount of cursed energy within the jaws of the beast equaled that of Getou’s absolute maximum output—now raised to 120%.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Naoya screamed, lunging across the large space separating them. “YOU’LL NEVER KNOW PEACE—I’LL CURSE YOU UNTIL YOUR DYING BREA—!”

The cursed energy shot out in a wide beam, striking straight through Naoya’s head and vaporizing everything in its path.

If Getou had been weaker, and had the output not been raised by an additional 20%, Naoya might have stood a chance at living. His body collapsed just a mere foot away from Getou.

Dragon Court disappeared in a blink of an eye. Naoya’s corpse now rested amongst the grasses of the valley, hand still outstretched. His words, as nasty as his personality, echoed in Getou’s head as if he’d shouted them through the surrounding mountains.

“Don’t worry, Naoya,” he said softly, smiling down at the headless body on the ground. “If you ever do come back as a curse, I’ll be sure to collect you myself.”

He stepped over the dead heir and continued walking toward the hideout. No other obstacles stood in his way now.

Shoko didn’t bother looking up at the sounds of shuffling feet. It felt as if days had passed by since her time in this cell, though she knew it had only been a few hours. When sleep doesn’t come, when there are no “happy distractions,” when the thoughts in your head conjure up long-winded hypothetical situations in which you end up with nothing every time … a few hours feels like a lifetime.

It’s like when you’re walking down the street and you think of being hit by a car. Do you survive or die? If you live, how many people care enough to come to your hospital room? How many call you, crying and thanking a higher power that you’re still alive? If you die, how many people show up to your funeral? Does anyone cry? Does anyone care?

Did anyone ever love you at all?

“Shoko,” a soft voice called just as a lone tear slipped down her cheek. She slowly sat up and turned, holding her breath and hoping the voice she just heard was actually real.

She wasn’t hearing things or being messed with, though. Getou stood in the center of the room with a small smile. She could tell it was fake even from here. His face was white as ash, and his hands were hidden in his sleeves. Then she remembered.

“Inside this huge cage, I found Nanako and Mimiko.”

“Getou,” she called back, and her voice seemed to snap him out of a trance.

The lock on the cage was crushed instantly, and he swept into the cell and crouched before her. “It’s time to go,” he said gently.

“Back to your domain?” A part of her liked that idea as long as Maki and Mai were there. Mimiko and Nanako too.

Getou breathed out a hushed chuckle. “As much as that idea appeals to me, no, Shoko. Back to the apartment.”

That was a bad idea. She knew it even as she allowed herself to be scooped up. Her eyes fluttered against her will. She was so tired. “They’ll find us.”

“Naoya’s dead, and Naobito is with Gojo.”

She hummed. “He’s dead too then.” Her eyes slipped shut, and she didn’t fight it anymore. “The Hei?”

“They’re nothing but a disorganized mess without Naoya leading them. If they come for us, they’ll just end up dead. And they know it.”

She sighed and leaned further into his chest. “‘Kay.”

“Get some rest,” he whispered. “When you open your eyes next, you’ll be able to see your girls.”

The prospect of sleep never sounded as good as it did right then. Within moments, she was out.

Chapter Text

Shoko woke up to Maki and Mai in her face and the news that Gojo and Getou were gone.

“I packed as much as I could,” Utahime said as she charged into the room with several suitcases held together by bungee cords. Shoko was blearily blinking away the sleep, chin nestled in Maki’s shoulder as she held the girl to her chest like a stuffed animal. Mai was slumped over her back, head stacked on top of Shoko’s with her arms around her neck.

“We’re leaving?” she asked around a yawn. “Getou said we were fine—where did he and Gojo go again?” She hadn’t exactly been the most awake when Maki and Mai told her the news.

“That was before Jujutsu Headquarters sent out a notice. Now they’ve been labeled criminals, so they’re going to lay low somewhere else. You’re still a target for The Hei though.”

“The higher ups won’t let anyone touch me.”

Utahime flicked her thick hair out of her face as she rushed into the bathroom for something. “Not you, but they won’t bat an eyelash to The Hei taking Maki and Mai away.”

Oh. Right. Her fingers curled a little tighter around Maki. “So, we’re leaving then? Where we going?”

Utahime walked back into the room holding a bag of hastily stuffed toiletries. “You’re going to lay low at my family estate. I’m going back to Kyoto to resume my studies.” At Shoko’s sudden look, her confidence faltered and her voice softened. “I can’t look like I’m involved in this. I told my professors I’d only be gone a few days, and the last thing I want is for the higher ups to catch wind of my disappearance. If I’m suspicious in any way, they’ll start investigating me and my clan—that includes the estate.”

Shoko nodded silently and patted Maki’s leg so she could scoot off her lap. “That makes sense.”

As soon as she stood up, Utahime dropped the bag and enveloped her in a strong hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into Shoko’s ear. “I haven’t got to talk to you or ask how you were doing this whole time. I’m glad you’re safe again.”

Shoko felt her arms wrap around Utahime’s neck loosely. She was taller than Uta by a good few inches, and sometimes it was funny how Gojo could make the woman—older than all of them by a year—look like a child when they stood next to each other. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Strangely enough, I think I’ve grown used to this.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Utahime argued. “I wish it wasn’t like this—and I wish I could go with you.”

She shrugged but kept her arms around Uta’s shoulders. Her hugs always felt so grounding, so comforting. Like when you got one, you could take a deep breath and let everything you’ve been holding onto, everything you’ve let weigh you down, go. She smelled like warm spice and crisp apples, and Shoko breathed in her scent and closed her eyes. She was going to miss Utahime. She was right, they hadn’t gotten to talk much—at all, really, but her presence had been reassuring. If she could trust anyone outside of Gojo to watch the place while she slept, it was Utahime.

“Depending on how long we’ll stay there, I’m sure I’ll see you in the next month. Winter break and all that.”

Utahime sniffed. “Yeah.” She pulled back, and her dark eyes were shiny. She sniffed again and fanned at her face. “Okay, c’mon. We don’t have a lot of time to get a move on. Gojo and Getou aren’t here anymore to defend the place. I’m a buffer-type, and you’re a healer, so if The Hei come kick down our door, we’re sitting ducks.”

Shoko snorted at the RPG analogy because she also went there in her head sometimes. “Okay.” But then Uta’s words kicked in. No Gojo meant no teleportation, which meant a … shit, it was too early to think about the math, but a road trip was in order. Out of the four of them, she was the only one with a driver’s license. Getou preferred public transportation, Gojo just blipped to wherever it was he wanted to go, and Utahime could never pass the test because of her road rage. She sighed. “A road trip with two kids. This’ll be fun,” she said and scrubbed at her face before bending down and rifling through her assortment of clothes.

Utahime was already in the other room, but she called out, “Getou’s daughters are here too, so don’t forget about them. By the way, they are such angels. Definitely do not take after him.”

Okay, a road trip with four kids. No big deal.

“Oh, shoot,” she said as she came into the room and dropped down to fold up the futons. “I completely forgot, but Megumi and Tsumiki need to go too. The Hei know they live here, and we don’t need another hostage situation.”

Shoko stared at her, but Utahime was completely unaware of the look she was being given as she shoved the futons into the closet and rushed out of the room. Her voice continued from the living area.

“They’re downstairs and already packed. Mimiko and Nanako are with them. Getou didn’t bring any spare clothes for them, so you’re going to have to share, Maki, Mai, okay?”

“‘Kay,” the twins chorused as they picked up some of their bags. So used to moving as they were, they knew the drill by now.

Utahime came back into the room with more luggage. “Shoko, I left out a spare sweater and some khakis. I packed all the warm clothes I could. Mom says it’s already snowing in Hokkaido. You should have heard her! She’s so excited to see you again. I told her the kids were coming, but you’re going to have to explain why when you get there. She wasn’t bothered at all by it, though.”

Shoko looked in another bag as Uta rambled on and, sure enough, a change of clothes that were too warm for Saitama but probably not warm enough for Sapporo were in there.

“Snow?” Mai whispered excitedly.

Maki was frowning. “It’s always so cold when it snows. You get sick every time.”

Shoko pulled the sweater over her head. She already felt itchy, but the wool would keep her from freezing. “You guys have sweaters and scarves now, remember? Your new coats are so thick you could play in the snow and probably not even feel cold.”

She turned to find both twins’ eyes sparkling. If Mimiko and Nanako had lived just as sheltered a life, they would probably act the same way at seeing snow. And she would bet the Fushiguros rarely saw snow in Saitama …

Maybe a road trip with six kids wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Shoko learned—very quickly—that a sixteen hour road trip with six kids was very bad. They couldn’t use public transportation since Maki and Mai’s faces were still being plastered all over the news, and identical twins were rare enough to get a second glance. Security would stop them at the airports, people would stare at them for hours on a bus, and a train was no better. Besides all that, trying to keep up with six kids in a crowd was a disaster waiting to happen.

Getou had left her a fat stack of banknotes since stores further out of the cities rarely used credit cards. Plus, any card he or Gojo left behind could be traced. So, no, she totally didn’t look suspicious hauling an army of children in a black rental van with a wad of untraceable bills in her purse. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but she swore the konbini clerk gave her a weird look.

She hopped back into the van and shoved the bags of food behind her seat. Megumi had gone with her since he’d tested out just about every type of food konbinis had to offer, so he was a certified expert in her book. He climbed into the van through the side door and squeezed by Maki and Mai’s separate bucket seats. He’d been squished in the middle of Mimiko and Nanako in the third row while Tsumiki had called shotgun. Not like he really cared since he’d plugged in some headphones into his PSP Go and was playing some dungeon game, ignoring the twins’ excited squealing on either side of him.

The girls had all gotten some sort of bubble tea, and lone Megumi had wanted a few juice boxes to tide him over. A whole case of water bottles had been bought, along with several different types of sandwiches, onigiri, deep-fried chicken, and two bento boxes per child. And, yes, Megumi made sure she got some food items for herself. He had been under strict orders from Maki to do so.

Shoko sipped at her coffee and put the car in drive, but she’d barely gotten onto highway 463 before the girls started back up.

“Where’s my bento?”

“You don’t need your bento right now, Mimi,” Nanako argued.

“I want it!”

“Continue straight to stay on Koshigaya Urawa Bypass slash National Route 463,” the GPS interrupted.

Maki sighed. “Can you turn on some music?”

Mai gasped. “I saw a person walking a really big dog!”

Mimiko perked up. “I want a dog—”

“You’re allergic to dogs!” Nanako snapped.

“So!”

Tsumiki turned around and shook her drink. “I don’t like my tea, can I have another one? Does anyone want this one?”

“Shoko, music!” Mai demanded, bouncing in her bucket seat as she took Tsumiki’s drink.

Maki turned on her sister. “Don’t yell at her, she’s trying to drive!”

“You’re the one who asked for it first!”

Mimiko gasped. “Whoa, did you see that bus? It was huge! Look—you’re not looking!”

Megumi sighed. “I don’t c—”

“You missed it!”

Mai turned around, two plastic cups of bubble tea sloshing in each hand. “Can I play games on your phone, Nana?”

“No, I’m playing a game—”

“Use the left lane to take the ramp to Iwatsuki.”

“Ooh, look at that cloud! Doesn’t it look like a pig?” Mimiko asked with a giggle.

“What, are you blind?” Maki scoffed. “That doesn’t look like a pig at all.”

“Turn right toward Iwatsuki Kaido slash National Route 122.”

Shoko sighed and sipped at her coffee. This was going to be a long, long sixteen hours.

“What now?” Getou sighed as he waved a large paper fan at his face. It was early morning and he was already sweating. He hadn’t felt like this since high school. It would probably be best to shed his monk robes, but they were catching the nice breeze that blew by.

“How should I know?” Satoru snapped at his side. “Aren’t you supposed to be the strategist?”

As soon as he’d gotten the notice from headquarters this morning, he’d been pissed. It was expected, honestly, since he obliterated another clan’s head, the estate, and colluded with a mass murderer to do so. The higher ups also now knew he was aware of the plan against him. He was more of a liability than he was beneficial to them at this point, so they had ordered his execution.

He knew it was bound to happen one day. He’d always been a thorn in their sides, but now he knew their hatred and fear of him and his abilities went farther back than he’d first thought.

Getou rolled his eyes. “Please, the only reason you haven’t come up with a plan yet is because you’re too pissed off to think clearly.”

Satoru sucked his teeth and looked away. After everything he’d just learned, coupled with the new bounty on his head, he was in no mood to even look at Suguru. Especially considering their surroundings. A beautiful, tropical beach stretched out for miles to the left and right, and the early sun was casting a glittery sheen over the turquoise waters of the Pacific Ocean. Surging waves crashed against the shoreline, frothing against the pale sand as they retreated. It was too reminiscent of their time in Okinawa.

That was the last time he remembered being truly happy. When it was all over, he had lost his best friend and a girl he’d been literally destined to protect.

And he’d failed.

And not only had he failed, but her death had been utterly meaningless. She had been nothing more than a way for the higher ups to get to him.

“This takes me back,” Suguru said after a long moment where the only sounds heard were the crashing waves and the trilling wildlife from the jungle behind them.

Satoru swallowed. He should have known Suguru would think about Okinawa too. “Yeah.”

“Sometimes, I wish we could go back and relive those moments.”

That was the absolute wrong thing to say to him right now.

Satoru glared at him over the bridge of his sunglasses. “I don’t.”

Getou looked surprised at that. “You don’t?”

“Why would I want to go back? Because I was happy? Yeah, I was, and then Riko got her brains blown out. Then you burned down a whole village and walked out on me. Forgive me for not wanting to relive what were probably the shittiest moments of my entire life.”

Getou snapped the fan closed and narrowed his eyes. “Shoko should have told you about that village—”

“Yeah, she tried to. All she wanted to talk about when she got back was the three of us together. How you were somehow redeemable—right after she took one of those long ass depressed naps of hers. What the hell did you do to her in that domain? Because she was doing so much better before you showed up—we all were.”

“I didn’t do anything but tell her the truth.”

Satoru sneered. His eyes were practically glowing. “The truth? Ha! Do you even know what that is?”

Suguru scoffed. “If this is about killing off non-sorcerers, I already spoke to Shoko about it—”

“And somehow you twisted her mind into believing a world without non-sorcerers was somehow gonna be just dandy. No wars, no fighting, no death—”

“I never said any of those things, Satoru—”

“Then what the hell is the point!” Satoru shouted. “I used to think like you, Suguru—that normies were just weak and it didn’t matter whether they lived or died. But you kept me grounded in reality. You told me that we were strong for a reason, that we had purpose, and that purpose was to protect those too weak to protect themselves!” His breath left him in an explosive huff as he turned and began walking away.

He kicked his flip flops off and dug his toes into the sand, letting the waves surge over his feet. He took a deep, shuddering breath and shook his head. How had it all come to this? How had they both ended up here?

“Satoru—”

“What sense is there in living in a world with so few people anyway? With nothing driving us? If you had no one to go up against, to give your all to, you would never reach your full potential. Remember when we used to spar?”

Getou said nothing.

“We used to try and prove who was stronger? What was it all for? Was it all just a pissing contest to you?”

“You know it wasn’t. But that doesn’t—”

“Maybe it was just one big competition because I sure as hell didn’t care that I could protect people. I was just some cocky brat with an ego the size of the moon—but I thought you were fighting to back up your ideals. Because why does it matter who’s stronger if there’s no one to be strong for?”

Getou was silent for a long moment, and Satoru sighed again and blew a lock of white hair from between his eyes. Why did Shoko think he could talk any sense into Getou? Because they used to understand each other? Hard to understand someone when you both walk in polar opposite directions.

“The whole point,” Suguru said, more calmly as he walked up to him, “was that our friends would no longer have to die fighting curses. Because curses are caused by non-sorcerers not watching their cursed energy.”

Blazing-blue eyes flicked up to glare at him. “Non-sorcerers don’t create the kind of curses capable of wiping out sorcerers. Maybe collectively, but not single-handedly. You should know that.”

Getou’s frown pulled at his face, and he looked out into the sea. “Shoko told me the same thing—and about how your very existence causes these weak curses to evolve into something with that capability.”

Satoru grabbed a fistful of his robes with lightning speed. “So what? You hate me too now?” As soon as the words were out of him, he waited with baited breath. He didn’t know if he could predict what Suguru was bound to say in this situation. He honestly didn’t know if he preferred it one way or the other.

Suguru smacked his fist away. “Of course not! It’s not like you can help it—”

Satoru threw back his head and laughed like a mad man. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. The most racist piece of shit on this planet tells me he doesn’t hate me for what I can’t help!”

Suguru shoved him back, anger contorting his features. “You don’t get it, Satoru—”

“So, tell me!” he snapped, his own anger surging forward. “Tell me what it is I don't understand. What I don’t see with my all-seeing eyes. Tell me how murdering millions of innocent people is gonna be the key to changing this world for the better!”

“I was trying to rid the world of curses!”

A fist slammed straight into Getou’s jaw, sending him flying back. He hit the ground and bounced off the dunes, flinging sand up into the air.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you’re trying to convince me.”

Suguru spat sand out of his mouth and growled as he pulled himself up. “What a cheap shot. Is this how you consider yourself the strongest? Taking shots at others while your impenetrable shield is up?”

“What shield?” Gojo held up his arms to the side, a feral smile on his face. “I’m not even using Infinity right now. Come at me, Suguru. No techniques, no curses—just you and me. Prove to me who’s more right.” Who’s stronger.

Getou was fast, and he was before Gojo in a blink of an eye. His arm shot out then dodged when it was thrown aside. Gojo’s fist grazed his cheek, but he wrapped his arm around his throat. He blocked a punch to the stomach, but he couldn’t see the second one to his chin coming until it was already knocking him back. They both jumped away, eyes flicking over each other swiftly, assessing the situation. Then they leapt back into the fray.

They exchanged rapid-fire blows, each blocking the other, moving into each other’s space, backing away to dodge. Like a dance, they maneuvered around each other with a fluidity that could only be achieved through knowing the other person as well as they knew each other.

Suguru slammed his elbow into Satoru’s chin, finally knocking him back a few steps. His own lips were bleeding, and the taste of copper sat heavy on his tongue. “You seem to think I don’t know about the horrors curse-users and sorcerers get up to. But at least they have purpose—at least when a curse-user or a sorcerer is born into this world, it isn’t to mindlessly create monsters plucked straight from their darkest nightmares.”

Satoru disappeared, reappearing right behind him and slamming his knee into Suguru’s back. Getou gasped, whirling to throw his fist into Satoru’s ribs—but Satoru was gone.

“Someone got bored quickly,” he hissed through his teeth.

Satoru, now standing ten feet away with a shit-eating grin on his face, merely shrugged. “Why don’t you show me what you’re really made of?”

Getou held up two fingers. “Fine. If that’s how you want it. Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.” An eerie, night-shaded dome spread like ink in water over the top of them until they were surrounded on all sides by the massive veil.

Satoru snorted. “Really? Who’s gonna see us on this deserted island?”

“With your recklessness? Astronauts in space could see your techniques.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Suguru.”

Portales opened up all across Getou’s body, and swarms of curses burst forth into existence. “Of course, Satoru. I meant for it to be one.”

He knew, deep down, that there was a chance he wouldn’t make it out of this fight alive. But that was all right—if he were to fall to anyone’s hand …

Let it be Satoru’s.

“I have to pee,” Mai whined.

Shoko felt her eye twitch as she glanced in the rearview mirror. “We just stopped at the 7-Eleven.” They'd needed to restock since, somehow, the kids had managed to go through half (if not more than that) of the food in the last four hours. The new bag of snacks was now up in the front with Tsumiki who was the only one outside of her brother with any ounce of self-control.

“I know, but I didn’t have to pee then!”

She sighed and put on her blinker. This was what she got for allowing the girl to drink two cups of bubble tea. “Fine, but you’re all going. I’m not stopping again until we reach Hachinohe.”

“But I don’t have to pee,” Nanako groaned from the third row seat.

“You’re all going pee. End of discussion.”

Every one of the children—except sweet, sweet Tsumiki—sighed.

She stopped at the nearest convenience store and sent the kids out in pairs, but Maki and Mai were not to go out together. From a safe distance away but still within eyesight of the van, Shoko lit up a cigarette and hastily drew the smoke into her lungs. Her fingers were trembling, but on the outside she looked as unaffected as usual. It wasn’t from the cold, even though Sendai was certainly a little chillier than Saitama.

She was nervous. She was so nervous she thought she might puke. Her phone had been charging in the van the whole time, but she’d left the mass amounts of messages unread. All except one—the notice from Jujutsu Headquarters. They were in too deep to turn back now, but even still, she didn’t know what to do anymore. She hadn’t really from the start. Gojo and Getou were elsewhere, Utahime was back in Kyoto by now, and every sorcerer was probably still looking for her since she never showed back up at the school. If she was found, what would happen to the kids in the van? What would happen to her? Would she just be used as a hostage all over again?

She didn’t even know what the plan was, and that left her feeling emptier and colder than any weather ever could. All she knew was she had to lay low at Utahime’s family estate. For how long? A day? Two? A month? The rest of her life? When was this ever going to end?

She hastily dragged on her cigarette again, jumping slightly when someone tugged on her sleeve. She blew out her breath and looked over at Maki.

“It’s time to go,” she said matter-of-factly. “Everyone’s done using the bathroom.”

Shoko nodded and quickly disposed of her cigarette. “All of you went?”

Maki nodded as they walked back to the van. “Yeah. The konbini clerk asked why I was using the bathroom again, so I told her Mimiko was just scared to go alone.”

“Good cover.”

She shrugged. “Not like it was a lie or anything.”

“At least we know they didn’t think you were a twin.”

Maki sighed bitterly. “Yeah. No one can ever tell us apart.”

Shoko aimed her an odd look. “I can tell you apart just fine.”

“You don’t count,” she said, again in that same matter-of-fact voice of hers.

Shoko opened up the driver’s door with a pinched brow. “Why don’t I count?”

Maki pulled open the side door and gave her the flattest look she’d ever seen a child give someone before. “Because you’re our mom.” Then she hopped into the car.

And oh shit, it felt as if she’d just been stabbed in the heart. “Oh.” It was all she could say, and even then the words could hardly squeeze past the lump in her throat.

She slowly got into the car and buckled up before putting it in drive. The kids’ voices all faded into the background as she listened to the GPS direct her onto the highway, movements on pure autopilot.

Mom … They think of me as their mom.

Chapter Text

Blood dripped from the wound on Getou’s temple and down the side of his jaw as he stood gasping for air. Satoru was a monster, but he had been able to tell halfway through the fight that he hadn’t been giving it his all. A tiny part inside him was pissed, offended even. A much larger part was thankful he wouldn’t die here today.

At the very least, Satoru’s busted lip was a satisfying thing to see. Neither were using reversed cursed technique to heal themselves yet. If they did, their fight could go on for days. Suguru wasn’t afraid of depleting his cursed energy, but he would eventually run out of the curses in his arsenal—all 2,752—as Gojo was just shredding through them. Even the two Special Grades he’d released.

But maybe he stood a chance if he used Doppelgänger. It wasn’t a curse he felt the need to use often, but then again, he didn’t seriously fight Gojo Satoru on a regular basis.

From the shadows at his feet, a hand emerged and crawled into reality. Identical down to the blood-splattered and ripped clothes, a second Getou Suguru stepped into the fight. Doppelgänger was a Special Grade only because it could copy the techniques of anyone who summoned it. If Suguru had summoned it back when he was Grade 1, it would have only been as powerful as Grade 1. A limitation Getou had figured out throughout the years was that it could not duplicate Getou’s curses, but it could pull out ones the real Getou wasn’t currently using.

Satoru whistled, unfazed. “Where’d you pick this one up?”

Getou grinned, and the curse mimicked him in a mirror pose. “Not telling.”

“Boooo!”

Satoru was before him before he could blink, and he dodged just as the first fist swung. He turned and aimed for Doppelgänger, but it dissolved into the portal at its feet before it reappeared right behind Gojo.

Getou couldn’t teleport, but he could cheat the system.

Gojo’s eyes glowed as their fight continued to escalate, Doppelgänger disappearing and rematerializing somewhere else just to land a blow before Gojo could warp away. Doppelgänger pulled out swarms of Grade 4 curses that could be easily ripped through but served as great distractions even for the Six Eyes. Gojo was easily keeping up with the hand-to-hand despite the disadvantage, but that was to be expected.

Suguru couldn’t afford to even blink as he watched the two exchange blows. One would be somewhere one moment, the next moment they would both be gone. He kept up with them, hands working to puppet the curse from a long distance in the fight against Gojo—until Satoru warped right in front of him. Getou swung his fist only for it to connect with Infinity, and Gojo’s cursed energy blasted him back with the force of a bomb exploding. Getou hit the sand with a groan, arms completely twisted and mangled, but he managed to wave his disfigured hand in a sharp, slicing motion and dissolve his Special Grade before it could be exorcised.

Satoru spat blood onto the sand and grinned at him through red-stained teeth. “Well, that was different. As much fun as this has been, why don’t we find a way to end this? Why don’t you bring out that one Special Grade of yours? What’d you call it? Ah, Dragon Court!”

Suguru wiped his chin on his shoulder and stood up. His arms were already regenerating thanks to his RCT—finally having learned it just last year—but he only used it for the bare minimum. It took a lot out of him to convert his negative cursed energy into positive energy. His body felt like he’d gotten run over by one of those large, industrial trucks, but he could still fight through the discomfort. “How do you know about Dragon Court?” When had he had the chance to overhear the fight between him and Naoya?

Satoru shrugged casually, but something was off about the movement. “The fight between Naobito and myself only lasted 0.68 seconds. I’d originally planned on just stunning him with my domain expansion so I could question him, but I overclocked it. His brain was practically fried when I was done, so I put the old man out of his misery. Had plenty enough time to come back and watch the show—totally missed that blow to the head, though. I’m curious how it works.”

Getou’s eyes narrowed. “You mastered your domain expansion.”

“Just basic concepts right now. I’m trying to bring myself and my target into the Limitless, but so far I’ve only succeeded in bringing my target into it. I’m always on the outside looking in. Still a work in progress.”

“And here I thought you’d learned everything after your near death experience.”

Satoru’s grin slipped, and his blue eyes flashed. “Why don’t you tell me how Dragon Court works? Or better yet, open it up and I’ll be able to see for myself. Based on the name, I’m guessing it has everything to do with justice and rules.”

Suguru straightened up warily. He wasn’t so much afraid, but he was cautious as to just what Gojo had up his sleeve. “Yes …”

“So, why don’t we make a bet?” Satoru stepped forward, gait menacing and overconfident.

Getou stood firm. “What are the terms of this bet?”

“Why don’t we pit our ideals up against the judge? I’m sure there’s a judge in this court of yours—so, why don’t we ask ‘im who’s more just?” His grin slipped completely, and his tone hardened. “If I’m seen as more just, you give up this monkey business and your crock of shit mission to end non-sorcerers.”

Suguru glared. His ideals were justified—they made sense. Dragon Court was completely unbiased to whoever entered the courtroom and operated on pure logic and reason. The Dragon God of the Sea would have to side with his ideals. They were sound and rational, but he suddenly didn’t feel so sure anymore. The expression on his face never spoke of this unsureness though; his shoulders had relaxed, his brow had smoothed over. His eyes stared directly into Satoru’s overly blue ones. “And if I'm the one who's seen as more just?”

Satoru’s grin was back. “I’m already a criminal. I’ll join you.”

Like hell Satoru would ever join him. He’d made that abundantly clear from the start. “You’re that confident?”

“When am I ever not?”

Getou held up two fingers. “I don’t want to hear any regrets then.”

“Ditto.”

Shoko exhaled and felt her whole body deflate when they finally parked. She was mentally exhausted after nearly seven and a half hours of driving, and she really needed to pee.

“All right, I’m going to the bathroom. Who has to go really badly and who can wait?” And, of course, Maki and Mai both raised their hands with pinched facial expressions. Between the two of them, Maki looked like she might explode the most. “Okay, Maki, you go first and be quick.” Maki was already bolting out the side door before Shoko could say anything else. “O-kay … Mimiko and Nanako, you’re with me.”

It was after the second wave of children were going to the bathroom that Shoko was browsing the coffee section. Her eyes would glance up every so often at the sound of the restroom doors opening and closing and counting each child in her head …

But she wasn’t the only one watching.

A man in a pair of painter’s overalls kept staring at the bathroom as well, and he’d only ever look up when one of the girls walked out. Alarm bells were sounding in Shoko’s head, and she inched closer toward the bathrooms. If it came down to it, she’d grab the children and run. She didn’t know yet if he’d recognized Maki or Mai from their blurry photographs, but she didn’t want to take a chance. As soon as the last two were out, they were driving out of there as soon as poss—

The man adjusted the front of his pants just as Tsumiki walked out.

Oh hell no.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she barked loudly, suddenly gaining everyone in the store’s attention. The man’s eyes bulged in their sockets as his head whipped up to meet her gaze. He dipped his head, turned, and swiftly scurried out of the store. “Only guilty people run away like cowards!” she continued to shout after him, chasing him all the way to the front of the store. The bell clanged against the door as it slammed shut, and she watched him through narrowed eyes run right past her van.

Tsumiki hurried over to her and peered out the large windows. “What did he do?”

Mai was suddenly at her side and grabbing onto her sleeves. “What happened, Shoko? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” she uttered, eyes still trained on the white work van that sped off out of the parking lot. She turned toward the girls still giving her confused looks and snapped at them. “Don’t you ever go anywhere alone, do you hear me? I paired you guys up for a reason. Tsumiki, you should know better than anyone since you live on your own.”

The shy girl’s face flared red in distress, but she nodded quickly without a word. Mai’s eyes had rounded at Shoko’s tone, and she quickly nodded too. “We won’t go anywhere by ourselves,” she assured.

“Not even to go to the bathroom,” Shoko pressed. “Always stick together, understand?”

Both girls hastily nodded.

“Good. Go wait in the van, I’m gonna buy some coffee.”

She watched them both race out of the store and climb into the van, only letting her eyes wander back over to the coffee selection when the sliding door closed shut. Thinking twice about it, she took out the key fob from her purse and waited for the car lights to flash to tell her the doors were safely and securely locked.

He lost …

Suguru stared at the sandy ground, eyes unseeing as every moment in the last four years flashed by in his mind. Dragon God of the Sea was unbiased, just, and purely logical. So how? How had he lost? Where was he wrong?

Blood dribbled out of his mouth, blotting out the white sand underneath. A rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet. He stumbled back, ears ringing as the domain’s sure hit had damaged most of his left shoulder and some of his torso. Gojo’s non-lethal, 60% cursed energy sure-hit was still 500% more powerful than a normal Grade 1 sorcerer’s.

“Heal yourself,” Satoru commanded, and like a rubber band, Suguru snapped back to reality. He hacked up some more blood and felt the thick fluid against the back of his throat, scraping it raw as he continued to cough. His RCT kicked in, and his body slowly stitched itself back together.

“Now that you see that your views are flawed, do you want to know the real culprits behind Amanai Riko’s death?”

Suguru slowly met Satoru’s bright blue eyes. “What?”

Satoru merely watched him in silence.

His brow furrowed, and he stumbled away from the sorcerer in front of him. “I saw her get shot right before my eyes,” he snapped. “What the hell are you talking about? Toji—”

“Who sent him?”

“The Time Ves—”

“Who do you think sent them?”

Suguru stopped. “What?”

Satoru slowly straightened up and let go a deep breath of air. Everything he’d learned from Naobito in the woods came flooding back to him, and he repeated it all for Suguru to hear. He watched the man’s eyes widen further until he was left staring off into the sea.

“Do you see now?” Satoru said quietly, coming up and grabbing him by his healed shoulder. “The worst of us all come from our own kind.”

Suguru slowly nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something—agree maybe, but the words were caught in his throat. He was pulled into a strong embrace, and a fist pounded on his back. He gritted his teeth against the action, but he found himself clinging to Gojo just as tightly. His mind was still reeling, and he had no words to say, but Gojo had already moved on anyway.

“Glad to have you back,” he said and pushed Suguru away, grin beaming across his face. “And just so you know, I’m never letting you live this down.” His smile faded, and a serious air returned to him just as the veil around them began to disperse. “You still have to pay for what you did to that village, Suguru. Shoko says you can be redeemed, and as much as I want to believe her, you better have a really good reason for what you did.”

Suguru cleared his throat, but it still felt raw. He was going to have to see Shoko for the full treatment. His RCT could only really work against serious injuries before it sputtered out. “There is a good reason, though it doesn’t matter now. The higher ups want us both dead.”

“Like there’s anyone alive who can kill me now that I’ve awakened my full potential. No one can beat me in a battle of domains—not even you, Yuki.”

Getou whirled around just as Tsukumo Yuki stepped out from a jutting stone spearing through the sand and soil where the beach met the lush island vegetation. She was wearing a bright red bikini with a white wrap skirt clinging to her hips. Her blonde hair had grown out and hung down to her calves while a large, white sun hat was perched on top of her head.

Not exactly the best fighting attire, but there was no doubt that was what she was here for considering the long, serpent-like cursed spirit figure-eighting around her. It was plated in segmented, bone armor with eight thin, sharply pointed wings that levitated around it.

Gojo didn’t look the least bit worried, but they were both surprised she’d managed to find them so quickly given the order had come in that morning. As far as they had been aware, she was overseas.

“Gojo Satoru,” she shouted boisterously before stopping and abruptly posing like a model. Confidently, she demanded, “What kind of woman is your type?”

Getou’s tensed body deflated instantly. Was that how she seriously greeted everyone for the first time? He remembered when she’d asked him and Haibara the same thing years ago. He hadn’t taken her seriously then, and he couldn’t take her any more seriously now.

Well, he was going to have to. She was their executioner after all.

Satoru grinned wildly beside him. “Any girl hotter than myself,” he shot off immediately. “If they even exist.”

Getou’s expression dried up as he groaned and scrubbed at his face with one hand. He was surrounded by idiots.

Yuki barked a laugh and threw off her sunhat. “The fact that you would dare say that in front of me, you must be asking for a beat down.”

Getou threw up his hand and whispered the incantation for another veil. Three Special Grade sorcerers—the only three currently in existence—were about to go head to head. Satoru could handle a one-on-one with his Infinity, but Getou had no such shield. Yuki was an unknown variable. It was best to keep his distance. There was no intel on her whatsoever in Jujutsu Headquarters’ archives, and none of his own research had ever revealed anything on the woman. He only ever knew her one goal: free the world of curses.

He summoned Special Grade Ganesha, and the gigantic beast towered over them all. It looked like a curse had warped the body of an elephant and a beetle together and gave it six, massive arms with human-like palms. Its main purpose was to target concepts and eliminate obstacles in its path. Ganesha would target Yuki and deem her an obstacle that would remove her. Permanently. It was a sad thought, really, to know he was going to have to off someone of the same mindset as hi—

Nothing happened.

Getou’s brows furrowed, but Ganesha didn’t move.

Yuki whistled and held out her palm. “That’s a big boy you got there. Let’s see if Garuda wants to play.” The cursed spirit floating at her side instantly curled up into a ball and dropped into her palm, its size bigger than a basketball.

Satoru stood still, eyes assessing and confident smile unwavering in the wake of her amping up. His Six Eyes were already assessing the entire situation, gauging her power and abilities in real time.

“Bom Ba Ye, baby!” she shouted and threw Garuda up in the air before hauling back her leg and kicking the cursed spirit with all her strength. It blasted straight through Ganesha like a bullet through butter.

Getou’s eyes widened. There was no way that was purely physical strength. Satoru chuckled beside him. He had already figured her out. “She adds mass to herself that gives her that destructive force. Ganesha couldn’t do anything to her since too much mass makes her uncontainable and no longer able to be removed as an obstacle.”

“Yep, that’s my technique!” she stated with her own wide smile, thumbing at herself and winking. “But it’s not mass—it’s virtual mass, which means—”

She was before them instantly, and her fist connected with Gojo’s chin in a burst of black cursed energy. His head snapped back as he landed on the ground, much to Getou’s absolute astonishment.

“Huh, I expected you to go flying,” she said, tone almost disappointed.

Satoru vanished, reappearing right behind her and putting a finger up to his chin in what looked like confusion. “So, that’s what I was missing. Your virtual mass doesn’t slow you down any, and you’re immune to concept-based techniques. Except Infinity is infinite amounts of finite space, but you’re able to ignore this if the layer of Infinity is thin enough—”

Yuki spun around and swung again, but Gojo was already gone and back by Suguru’s side.

“If you want to stand a chance in this fight, Suguru, you better come out with some curses that don’t rely on target-specific, concept-based attacks.”

Suguru swore and brought forth several Grade 3 curses. They would do nothing to Yuki besides offer distractions that would allow him to close in with hand-to-hand combat, but he didn’t want her destroying any more of his Special Grades. That Asianic god she just obliterated was one of his trump cards.

All three charged each other at once. Gojo’s speed was a blur, quicker than Naoya had ever hoped to be, and Suguru filled in the gaps. Yuki parried what she could and took punches to the face like a beast. His curses wrapped around her one moment only to explode as Garuda ripped through the air around them. Yuki tried for a roundhouse kick, and Suguru neatly dodged before she could split his body in half. He was not about to block her blows if he wanted to keep his limbs. His cursed energy surged to the surface of his palm as he aimed a blow to her head, but a fist around his collar hauled him back just in time to miss her upward strike.

He was thrown to the side just as Satoru kicked up and out, hitting her square in the chest. Like a brick wall, she didn’t budge and only laughed as Gojo jumped back.

“She’s strong,” Gojo said with a smirk.

Suguru was rubbing at his neck and cast him an annoyed glare. “The title of Special Grade isn’t given to just anyone.”

“I don’t mean to drag this out, boys,” Yuki said suddenly, Garuda now hovering behind her once more. “I really just wanted to test something, and I figured you guys would be the perfect subjects.”

“I’m all for helping out a fellow sorcerer in need,” Satoru replied sarcastically.

Yuki’s responding grin was feral. “That’s the spirit!”

Getou didn’t like this one bit. He was confident enough to go up against any sorcerer in the field—even Satoru if he put down his blasted Infinity cheat shield, but his technique was not evenly matched against Tsukumo Yuki. He didn’t even think he had any curses currently in his arsenal that wouldn’t end up like Ganesha if stacked against her, and her boosted virtual mass meant she could undoubtedly punch straight through his arms in a hand-to-hand fight if she landed a blow on him.

Her palms wrapped together, thumbs hooking like a chain link as she called out, “Domain Expansion: Meteor Shower!”

Getou had two seconds to act fast—his curses vanished back into the shadows at his feet. In their place, a Grade 2 ripped out of the portal he opened. It would be useless against Yuki herself as she was smart enough to figure out its inverse properties, but he didn’t have it out for her. Anyone worth their salt would know a technique dealing with mass would mean an absolutely crushing domain expansion.

The Grade 2 wrapped its stretchy, latex body around Getou in a large ring before it blew up like a murky, black bubble over top of him. His body had already shifted into a specific counter measure stance—something far more effective than Simple Domain.

“Falling Blossom Emotion,” he whispered just as the mass and pressure of a hurtling meteor blasted into the island.

The sand under their feet instantly and violently surged up, transforming into crude, glass structures. The rocky shoreline blasted up into the air in a massive explosion, and water rushed up and around them until Suguru was forced to summon a giant manta ray cursed spirit under him. He managed to balance on it like a surfboard as it lurched over the endless, surging waves.

Satoru stood grinning through it all, the water rushing around him in a perfect circle, kept at bay by his widened Infinity. He turned and found Getou’s incredulous expression. “They said teaching anyone outside the Three Big Sorcerer Families the Falling Blossom Emotion technique would come back to bite that person in the ass. I say it has its advantages.”

“You could have covered me with your Infinity, you know,” Suguru groused in agitation.

He merely shrugged. “Guess I’m still a little mad at you.”

“I could have died."

“Doubt it. Besides, I taught you that for a reason.”

Yes, the only reason Getou was probably alive right now was because of the secret technique Gojo had taught him when they were teens. It was highly confidential and only to be used by those hailing from the three major clans, but Gojo had always been the rebellious type.

The electric-blue cursed energy field around him dispersed. The veil also started to disperse, allowing light to reclaim the island and chase away the shadows. Suguru sat cross-legged on top of the manta ray and surveyed the damage around them. Most of the island was completely wiped out, and what was left of the beach was no longer a beach at all. Glass structures shot up out of the water from where the invisible meteor had hit. It looked like an abstract art sculpture had been dropped into the middle of the ocean, shining in the sun and reflecting the aquamarine color of the water.

When the dust settled enough to see, Yuki stood along the glass beach with a too-wide smile. She held up both arms and gave them double thumbs up. “Congrats! You pass!”

Suguru looked down at his soaked robes weighing heavy against him and sighed. It could be worse, he figured. He could be dead. “I assume this means you’ll tell the higher ups you couldn’t kill us?”

At that, Yuki’s face distorted into one of confusion. “Why would I do that?”

Getou and Gojo both exchanged a confused look of their own. Satoru jumped up and landed on the surface of the water before sitting down next to Suguru. His eyes narrowed. “Aren’tcha here to execute us?”

If possible, Yuki looked even more dumbfounded. “No?”

This was … unexpected. Not an unwelcome development, though. Pouncing on the confusion, Suguru leaned forward. “You’re not even aware of the notice that went out to all sorcerers in Japan.”

Suddenly, Yuki’s face flooded with color, and she began to laugh nervously. “Ah … about that. I lost my phone last week in Australia. But it’s okay since that’s where I picked up Garuda!” She held up the balled-up curse like a proud Pokemon trainer. As the silence stretched, her grin gradually fell. “Something big happened, didn’t it?”

Satoru laughed. “The higher ups have ordered our heads delivered to them on silver platters, and you’re supposed to be the one servin’ ‘em up!”

Yuki’s eyes widened and her jaw slackened, and for a moment she just stood there soaking up the information.

Satoru elbowed Suguru and whispered, “I think we broke her.”

Uproarious laughter pealed out of the Special Grade sorcerer, and both Getou and Gojo watched as she doubled over on herself and clutched at her stomach. There were tears in her eyes, and her high-pitched cackles turned into gasping breaths of air before long.

“Definitely broke her,” Suguru muttered back.

“That’s the funniest thing I heard all year,” she said once her laughter abated, though her voice was still heavily winded. “Me? The executioner of you two?” She pointed to Suguru, grin returning. “You maybe, though I’d probably have to annihilate you at the cost of my own life, but I could do it. Curse Manipulation isn’t the best match up, but you?” She turned to Gojo, but whatever she was going to say was replaced by more raucous laughter. “As if! Jujutsu Headquarters has finally lost its last marble if they seriously think I’d take any commission from them, much less an execution order. But against you two? What a compliment!”

Suguru peered over at Gojo, but the man looked as if he was sunbathing and hardly paying the two of them any attention anymore. He knew he was listening, but Suguru ignored him and turned back to Yuki to ask the most important question plaguing him. “If you weren’t here to execute us, then why did you come picking a fight?”

Yuki wiped another stray tear from her eye and exhaled a gusty breath. “Huh? Oh, I thought I told you. I wanted to test my domain expansion on someone of your caliber to see where its weak points were and where I could improve it. I saw the veil you guys cast while I was in Chichijima, so I rode my jet ski over he—ah man, it’s probably toast now! Say, Gojo, can I get a ride back?”

Satoru snickered. “I s’ppose. Your domain wasn’t bad, though it was weak around the top and side walls. If you tightened that up, your impact would pack a much bigger punch. Think dinosaur level catastrophe. I’d work on condensing it, but be careful not to accidentally create a black hole.”

Yuki took the advice in stride. “I knew it was good I came to you guys. Well, good luck with the higher ups. Sounds like they’re up to their usual tricks. I’ll just pretend I never got the notice, which, I mean, isn’t really a lie.”

“You’re leaving?” Suguru asked incredulously.

She shrugged. “Well, I was hoping Gojo could take me back to Chichijima, but … uh, yeah? I'm usually not in Japan long. My research tends to take me between Australia and Singapore the most, but I figured a short vacation back home would be nice. It gets tiring having to use Google Translate all the time.”

“Whatcha researchin’?” Gojo asked curiously, and Suguru sighed. They were going to be here all day at this point. Just as he was going to ask to wrap this lovely conversation up, a shrill ringing came from his inner breast pocket.

As he brought the wet phone out—honestly surprised it was still working—he briefly wondered how Shoko and the kids were doing. However, all thoughts of the others vanished as he stared down at the unknown number coming across his screen.

“Hello?”

His eyes widened.

Chapter Text

It was roughly ¥70,000 to board the ferry with the rental van, an adult (thankfully with a driver’s discount), and six kids. Ridiculous. Thank God Suguru was stacked. Might have been blood money, but Shoko was trying not to think about it too much. She was going to try instead to relax the whole hour and a half trip in her reclining chair without having to think about driving. Maybe take a nap. The view was bland anyway—it was overcast and dreary out on the ocean, and thinking of crashing waves and dark skies just made her think of Suguru, so she closed her eyes and let her body become one with the chair.

The kids either sat at her feet playing house with Mimiko’s doll or, like Megumi and Maki, vegged in one of the other viewing seats next to her.

“Pretend I said, ‘It’s time for bed,’ and then you got upset,” one of the various twins at her feet whispered. Shoko didn’t bother opening her eyes to see which one, though it sounded like Mai.

“‘No, mommy, I don’t wanna go to bed,’” a high-pitched whisper responded.

“‘That’s too bad! You have school tomorrow, young lady.’ Now pretend you stomped your feet off to your room.”

“No, she’s gonna run away instead.”

Shoko snorted and let her head roll to the side as sleep continued to elude her. It was weird how, after the day she’d had, that now of all times she couldn’t fall asleep. But she let her mind wander as the girls continued whispering their odd, bad-parenting story and wondered if any of this was inspired by the events of their life or if this was what normal children did too.

“No, Nanako, you have to be the dad.”

“Why am I the dad? I want to be the sister.”

“Because we need a dad, and you copy Getou the best.”

Maybe it was for the best that she wasn’t falling asleep. She really wanted to hear this Getou impression from Nanako.

“‘That’s not how you talk to your mother, young lady,’” Nanako’s purposefully deep voice quietly boomed, and Shoko couldn’t fake her sleeping any longer. She bowled over and laughed so hard she snorted. Nanako’s horrified face when she opened her eyes made it worse, and her laughter started to wheeze out of her.

“I told you you did a good job copying Getou,” Mimiko giggled.

Shoko’s dying-seal laughter did nothing to convince Nanako of that.

The Iori family home was a five minute drive from the Hokkaido Jingu, but one wouldn’t know it with how deep into the forest one had to venture. Built backed up to the mountainside, several traditional homes stood under the looming cover of trees. Despite the near barren branches, the crowded forest around the small estate made it feel darker and closed off from the rest of the world.

It was a perplexing feeling, having just driven through the lively city of Sapporo. The family shrine was located within busy Maruyama Park, and the baseball field Utahime grew up playing at (when she wasn’t weighed down with shrine duties) was two minutes down the road from it. Schools, shops, a cemetery, several smaller shrines, and even a zoo with an elephant exhibit were all right around the corner, but you wouldn’t think so when you crossed over to Iori private land.

Regardless of the darkness or the snow, Iori Chiyo stood waiting for them all with a patient smile on her face. She was dressed in a season-inspired, pine-green kimono with a brown hanten over it for warmth. Beside her, her dutiful husband, Jiro, held a matching parasol over her head that was already lightly dusted with snow. The lanterns illuminating the walkway brought warmth to the otherwise cold night.

“You all must be so tired,” Chiyo said lovingly as she helped the children out of the van. “Jiro, dear, let’s get them inside quickly before they catch a cold.”

“Yes, dear,” he grunted.

“Thank you—” Shoko tried to say, but she was cut off with a gentle embrace.

“No need to thank us, Shoko,” Chiyo laughed softly. “You are like family to us all. This is the least we could do after you took such good care of our Utahime all these years. I don’t know the details, but we can always talk about it tomorrow. Come along, the servants have already set up the futons and stoked the fires.”

“I’m tired,” Mimiko whined as she stumbled down the path, clutching her doll closely to her chest.

Mai sneezed, and Maki sleepily pulled her sister’s coat closer around her face.

Chiyo gasped, hearts practically forming in her eyes. “Aren’t they just precious? Jiro, dear, aren’t they just precious?”

“Yes, dear.”

Shoko snorted. “You try driving sixteen hours with them all and see how precious you think they are afterward.”

“Honey, you say this like I didn’t raise seven children.”

Ah, right. Chiyo didn’t look a day over thirty so it was hard to believe she was a mother at all, much less one of seven. She passed onto Utahime her long, dark hair and kind eyes, but Utahime carried a lot of her father in her face like her nose and the way she frowned. Jiro was the kindest man Shoko would probably ever meet, but he definitely didn’t look it.

The guest house was warm when they stepped inside, and Shoko and Chiyo both helped take off the shoes of every fussy, half-asleep child in attendance before they were all herded into a massive room with tatami mats on the floor. The tokonoma, the elevated alcove in the center of the main wall, was decorated with deity statues and beautiful vases with flowers that brightened the space. Two giant futons were laid out for them, and Megumi face-planted onto the first one. He was asleep when Shoko rolled him over, snores already pouring out of him. Tsumiki crawled under the cover next to him and was out along with her brother within seconds.

Maki and Mai stood there like zombies, as was their default when they got this tired, and Mimiko and Nanako were stumbling on their feet as their heads kept nodding and lolling to the side.

“Come on, you two,” Shoko sighed and pulled Mimiko and Nanako down onto the futon before they fell over. Nanako crawled in next to Tsumiki in the first futon, and Mimiko was right beside her in the second futon. Their hands slid out under the duvets to intertwine, but they were asleep instantly.

“All right.” Shoko sat down on the other half of the futon and held out her arms. “Come here.”

Maki and Mai shuffled over, and rather than flopping down onto the futon, they fell into her arms. She grunted under the impact, but she only rolled her eyes fondly.

“I’ll leave the rest to you,” Chiyo whispered from the hallway, traditionally on her knees by the fusuma. She slid the door shut, and the paper lantern in the room was the only light glowing within the space now. She pulled Maki down first under the cover, then Mai, before she took the edge of the futon where it was a tad cooler.

She didn’t remember falling asleep when her head hit the pillow, but when she opened her eyes next, it was morning.

All their bags had been brought in while Shoko had situated the children for bed, and she was immensely grateful to both Chiyo and Utahime when she rolled over and found everything she needed to get all six of them ready.

Mimiko favored Mai’s clothing, choosing rainbow-checkered leggings under a lime-green sweater-dress. Nanako picked something from both twins’ bags and came out of the bathroom wearing a hot-pink sweatshirt and charcoal, fleece-lined leggings. Maki was swathed in several layers, even wearing her gloves and scarf, and Mai was just as bundled up in her pastel shirt, sweater, and overcoat. Tsumiki wore a light jacket over her outfit, and Megumi only had the one hoodie to keep him warm.

“Here,” Maki muttered and shoved one of her plaid scarves at the boy. “So you don’t get cold.”

“Thanks,” he’d mumbled back, but he’d hastily wrapped it around himself.

Utahime had packed Shoko’s clothes in stacked outfits so she wouldn’t have to dig through and try to look put-together. Once again, she whispered a silent thanks to her best friend as she pulled out a modern, navy michiyuki overcoat decorated in persimmons along with a cream turtleneck dress that reached her ankles. The knitted fabric at least wasn’t itchy.

“I want to go play in the snow!” Mai excitedly stated when she came back into the room.

Mimiko and Nanako both gasped, “Me too!”

Megumi made a face and pulled the scarf up over his nose for warmth. “Isn’t it cold?”

Tsumiki giggled. “Snow tends to be that way.”

He grunted. “Count me out.”

Maki huffed and stuffed her gloved hands into her fleece-lined, leather jacket’s pockets. “Me too.”

The fusuma was tossed open with vigor, and the children spilled out into the central room of the home. It was much brighter than last night thanks to the sunlight shining through the surrounding shoji doors, and it allowed them to not miss the massive kotatsu that took up the space with enough room for all of them to sit at. Food had already been delivered, and the snow was quickly forgotten as each child rushed over to huddle under the blankets and dig in with quick shouts of thanks.

Shoko buried her legs under the blanket, and warmth engulfed her lower half as the heat leaked out from the sunken fire pit in the floor covered only by a grate. No matter what century it was, the Iori’s would always keep it traditional. Electricity? Never heard of her.

She picked up her chopsticks and watched each child struggle with theirs—except Megumi and Tsumiki it seemed—over her pickled vegetables. The flavor that burst over her tongue made her sigh. Stupidly, it reminded her of the breakfast she had in Getou’s domain, and now she was thinking of Suguru.

She pulled out her cell phone and looked for Satoru’s contact amongst the mass of emails, Line messages, and missed calls.

^{Are you dead? Sent 8:25AM}

^{How would I message you back if I was? Received 8:26AM}

^{Bc you always message me bk right away. If you didn’t respond in five minutes, I’d know. Sent 8:28AM}

^{You know me so well Received 8:28AM}

^{[GIF; teary-eyed baby] Received 8:29AM}

^{Where are you guys rn? Sent 8:32AM}

^{Hold on a sec Received 8:32}

Shoko expected to receive a selfie with some unknown location in the background, not for the sliding shoji behind them to be thrown open. There, standing on the veranda, were both Satoru and Suguru.

Mimiko’s eyes bulged, and she screamed in excitement as she jumped up from the table. “Getou!” She flung herself at him, and Getou caught her effortlessly and tossed her up in the air with a smile that made Shoko’s heart clench.

“Oof, I love the smell of seaweed breath so early in the morning,” he teased, reaching for Nanako’s insistent grabby hands. Mimiko grinned and buried her face in his neck with a girlish giggle.

“Megumi,” Satoru cooed, grin fairly devilish as he leaned over on one long leg. “Where’s my loving embrace?”

Megumi stuffed some natto in his mouth and turned away without a word.

Satoru snickered. His blinding white hair and bright blue eyes nearly blended in with the snowy background under the clear skies above. He looked like he had just climbed Fuji with his big, puffy, orange coat and matching, windbreaker pants. Suguru was more subdued. He no longer wore his monk robes but thick, black sweatpants and sweatshirt. With his hair down, the whole ensemble did funny things to Shoko’s stomach.

“When did you guys get here?” she asked after swallowing her piece of grilled fish. She wasn’t going to ask about what happened between them, what Suguru being here meant, what was going to happen now that they had all grouped up, or what they were going to do about the higher ups. As Suguru had mentioned once before: not a conversation for little ears.

“Early this morning,” Gojo supplied as he sat down cross-legged beside Tsumiki and stole one of her tamagoyakis. The girl gasped in offense and cast him a betrayed look. Megumi wordlessly gave her his, and her pout vanished.

“We figured it would be best to let you guys get as much sleep as possible. The drive up here must have been exhausting,” Suguru said as he came to squeeze himself in between Nanako and Mimiko’s seats. The girls each offered him their own tamagoyaki without fuss.

Shoko leveled him with a flat look and said in an equally flat voice, “No, it was great. Wonderful. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”

Gojo leaned back and turned his stupid smirk toward Shoko. “Good, cause there’s no way I’m warping all you brats back to the mainland once this is all over.”

“Then you can drive them back,” she countered.

“No driver’s license.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“Nah, sounds like a you problem.”

“I’ll fly us out,” Suguru interrupted with a sigh. “Not like I’m hurting for money—the Zenins’ first deposit hit a few days ago, though I doubt I’ll see another one.”

Satoru scoffed. “You think?”

Megumi narrowed his eyes at Suguru. “You’re working with the Zenins?”

Satoru reached over and ruffled the kid’s hair, much to his displeasure. “Don’t worry, squirt, it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Maki looked up with sharp eyes, gaze locking onto Megumi and then Gojo. “Why would they have anything to do with you?”

It was like a light bulb flicked on in Shoko’s head, and she paused mid-chew. “Oh,” she said around a mouthful of fish. “That’s right. You guys are cousins.”

Silence.

“We’re what?” Mai shrieked, turning her head to stare at the dark-haired boy. “But your last name isn’t Zenin!”

“His dad took our mom’s last name,” Tsumiki defended. “We don’t know anything about them.”

“You’re lucky,” Maki grumbled and stabbed at her fish with her chopsticks. Not skipping a beat, she turned and looked over at Shoko. “It’s cold, can we close the door?”

Shoko would never grow used to Maki’s ability to switch topics so easily. Rolling with it, she tucked a lock of hair behind the girl’s ear. “It’s Hokkaido, Maki. You’re going to have to get used to the cold.”

She frowned. “I hate the cold.”

Gojo leaned back and sighed. “Ditto kid. But hey, they got a nice hot spring here.”

Megumi glanced up, eyes wide and shining. “They do?”

“Oh, so now you’re gonna speak to me, ya little twerp?”

Megumi ignored him and looked to Shoko for the answer. Suguru hid his grin behind the palm of his hand as he leaned against the table, and Shoko felt for the second time that morning her heart squeeze in her chest. It was like old times. The three of them together, ribbing each other and laughing at the other’s expense. She knew this was real, that this was happening, that he was here.

But it also felt like at any moment, she’d blink and he’d be gone again.

Because of this, her guard was back up, and she wouldn’t lower it until she got the full story from the both of them. It wasn’t just for Maki and Mai’s sake—though that was the main reason—but her heart couldn’t take another round of hoping for something more before knowing the whole truth.

“Shoko?” Megumi prodded.

She shook herself and focused back on the here and now. “Yeah, they’re really nice.”

“I want to play in the snow!” Mai reiterated, almost done with her breakfast.

Mimiko inhaled sharply and nearly choked on her fish. “Me too!” she gritted out, coughing. “Me too!”

“Eat your breakfast first,” Suguru sighed, rubbing her back. “Slowly.”

They all continued to eat in relative silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Shoko shared most of her food with Gojo so he’d stop picking things off Tsumiki’s plate, and Maki and Mai would in turn hand her food from their trays. Sometimes someone would ask to pass the soy sauce and feet would occasionally bump against each other under the kotatsu.

“Gojo, if that’s you kicking my shin, I’m going to pinch you with my toes,” Shoko warned.

Satoru stuck his tongue out at her. “Not with my Infinity up you won’t.”

She examined the firm tofu between her chopsticks. “Fine. Guess I’ll call up Utahime and tell her you’re being a bad guest for Chiyo and Jiro.”

He moved his foot immediately, and the children around the table giggled at his expense. Satoru glared over the rim of his glasses, but that only seemed to make them laugh harder.

Shoko cleared her throat and pushed her tray away. “Finish up eating, guys. The snow’s going to melt if you don’t hurry.” The lie was as white as the fresh powder outside, but she still got a flat look from Suguru. She returned it with one of her own.

Once the kids were done, most of them hurried outside with shrieks of laughter. A servant had been called to show Maki and Megumi to the hot springs, and the adults were finally left alone.

“From the top, gentlemen,” Shoko stated around the rim of her black coffee the other servant had provided for her. Like ghosts, they appeared and disappeared with anything and everything before one could even ask. Chiyo was likely the cause. Once they were done here, she would have to seek the woman out and tell her what was going on.

Satoru yawned and bent over his steaming hot chocolate. His glasses fogged over in seconds. “You’re the better storyteller, Suguru.”

Suguru sighed but took the compliment even though they all knew it wasn’t completely sincere. “Your laziness is your worst trait, Satoru.” He sipped at his own drink, some matcha genmaicha tea.

“You said it was my recklessness.”

“It’s definitely his arrogance,” Shoko chimed in.

“No, I once said it was your thoughtlessness.”

“It’s really hard to choose just one. You’ve got so many.”

“Quit ganging up on me, you two!” Satoru whined, and Shoko and Getou hid their grins behind their drinks.

“We didn’t speak much the night I brought you back to the apartment,” Suguru started. He leaned over the table and watched through the open shoji doors as the girls began building a giant snowman. “Satoru was alerting most of the Gojo Clan on what happened, and I was out making calls of my own. Obliterating one of the three major clans is going to disrupt order and overturn the balance we’ve had over the last few centuries. I wasn’t exactly surprised when Jujutsu Headquarters sent out the notice.”

She nodded along. In truth, she wasn’t that surprised either. The higher ups were going to have their hands full as the clans vied for power, each looking to become the next big family.

“We left as soon as the notice came in. Satoru made sure to lead a trail away from the apartment before we teleported to some islands.”

“That’s where I kicked his ass,” Satoru butted in with a grin.

“Good job,” Shoko commended with a raise of her cup. It clinked against Satoru’s hot chocolate. They both ignored Suguru’s betrayed look.

“You didn’t ‘kick my ass—’”

“Shoko, quick! Heal him before he suffers from any more brain damage. He clearly doesn’t remember how I wiped the floor with him.”

Humoring him just because Suguru had pissed her off one too many times, she held out her hand and motioned for him to come closer. His glare over the table did nothing to intimidate her.

“To top it off,” Satoru ruthlessly continued, “his own curse turned on him when judging his ideals. We made a bet that if that happened, Suguru would have to come back and drop his plan to end non-sorcerers.”

Shoko dropped her hand, and one eyebrow arched high on her forehead. “Are you planning on backing out?”

Suguru was silent for a long moment. Shoko held her breath. Satoru never took his eyes off him.

Finally, he sighed, and it was like a weight had lifted from them all. “No. I still fully believe non-sorcerers are the root cause of the curses in this world, and I do still think it would be easier if they all were gone … but I can admit that I was wrong in wanting to kill them. That’s the easy way out.” His gaze sharpened as he leveled both Shoko and Gojo an intense look. “There are plenty of sorcerer trafficking rings all over Japan, funded by these damn mo—” he cut himself off and sighed in agitation, “by these non-sorcerers. If and when I find them, I will kill them without remorse.”

“Just don’t make it so obvious it was murder, and we won’t have to deal with the police breathing down our necks,” Satoru said in a level-headed manner.

“The police won’t go up against headquarters,” he countered.

“They will if there’s enough media attention and public outcry.”

Suguru nodded. “There won’t be. I’ll make sure of it.”

“How will you atone for your parents’ deaths?” Shoko asked quietly. Her coffee cup sat empty beside her, but she still fiddled with the handle.

For the first time throughout their conversation, Suguru looked truly remorseful. The village incident could be forgiven, and they had no official reports on if Suguru did or didn’t kill anyone else since his defection. However, his parents were innocent people who had only been targeted so Suguru could never look back, only move forward. But now he had reached a dead-end, and he was forced to turn around and witness the carnage he had had a hand in.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve allowed myself to see them as people again.”

She nodded. “As long as you don’t sweep what you’ve done under the rug. Some may not forgive you for it, but if they want to point fingers, I’ll tell them to point them at the higher ups. We’ve all been pushed to our limits because of the lack of resources and aid. It was no wonder one of us eventually snapped.”

He sighed heavily and quietly agreed with her. She could tell in the twitch of his fingers on the table that he could really go for a cigarette right now, and she could as well, but they both were going to refrain while around the children.

Satoru stretched and downed the rest of his hot chocolate. “Anyway, after I kicked Suguru’s ass, guess who showed up?”

Shoko would never be able to guess, so she shrugged.

“C’mon, guess!”

“I don’t know? Mei Mei?”

“Nope!”

“It was Yuki,” Suguru clarified. “We thought she was there for the execution order.”

“I mean, she did use her domain expansion on us. Blew up the whole island pretty much.”

Shoko’s surprised expression was bland but genuine. “And she wasn’t there to execute you?”

Satoru smirked. “Nope. Just a fellow sorcerer looking to test her strength.”

“You’re all monsters,” she mumbled as she scrubbed at her face.

Suguru cleared his throat. “Anyway. After that, I received a phone call from one of Manami’s associates.”

She stilled. Her eyes followed Getou’s movements and watched him pull out a folded wad of papers from his sweats’ pocket and drop it on the table between them all. She didn’t hesitate to snatch it up and begin unfolding it. There, in black and white, were bank statements with billions of yen transacted to the Zenins’ private accounts.

“Akutami Group?” she questioned, brows pinched. “What’s that?”

Suguru leaned forward with a devious smile that could rival that of Satoru’s. “It’s a huge conglomerate that owns several major corporations all across Japan. Officially, Jujutsu Headquarters pushes all their money through Nippon Bancorp, but guess who owns Nippon Bancorp?”

It clicked. “Akutami Group … Wait, is this really enough to prove they’re in on human experimentation? This just lists money being moved over to the Zenins—which is suspicious—but it’s not damning.”

Suguru’s smile never wavered. “Check the last page.”

Flipping through the stack revealed more transactions, and Shoko’s eyes nearly dropped out of her head at the amount of money the Zenins had received over the last twenty years. No wonder Naoya had been so nonchalant in offering sponsorship of Getou’s mission. Finally, the very last page was mostly blank, but a mere thirteen words stood out across the paper.

Chapter Text

Shoko sipped at her third cup of coffee that morning and watched the girls defend their snowy base from Gojo and Getou’s barrage of snowballs from the safety of the kotatsu. Their shrieks of glee, coupled with the men’s obnoxious laughter, caused the ball of festering feelings she so often tried to squash to swarm within her chest. She felt like laughing for no reason. She was clearly going mad because she also felt like crying.

They did it. After more than a week of running, hiding, chasing, fighting, never knowing what the next day would hold, they could breathe. The fight against the higher ups was something she didn’t want to think about, though she knew she’d be a vital piece on the board. But that wouldn’t be today, or tomorrow, or possibly even the next day. They had a case to build, and until then, they were safe on sacred ground.

“That’s cheating!” Nanako yelled as Satoru used Infinity to block her snowball. Satoru replied by sticking out his tongue. Getou retaliated by shoving snow down the back of his sweater when Infinity dropped. The girlish squeal Gojo let out sent every child into fits of high-pitched giggles—until he blasted them with an avalanche of snow.

She snorted as she watched all four children get buried under the heap, some of their limbs randomly sticking out here and there. She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Chiyo entering the room hand-in-hand with Maki and Megumi. Three servants filtered in behind the woman quietly, and as the children tucked themselves under the warm kotatsu blanket, the servants stoked the fire underneath, served snacks with fragrant teas, and refilled Shoko’s coffee mug.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Chiyo said as she sat down next to her with a sweet, motherly smile.

Shoko found herself returning the smile. Chiyo had that aura that made you want to fall into her arms and sigh out all your problems. “I’m enjoying the view.” At the screaming retribution of four high-strung girls, she continued, “I love how tranquil and quiet it's been here.”

Chiyo hid her giggles behind her sleeve. “I’m glad. It certainly puts my mind at ease. Utahime didn’t tell me much about what was going on, but I know it had to be important.”

Shoko nodded and averted her gaze. “I won’t drag your daughter into this mess any more than I have to, but I know she’ll find a way to get involved regardless.”

“She has a big heart. If it has anything to do with these children, she’ll put her life on the line for them. She’s always been that way, and I can’t stop her from doing what she feels is right. I would do the same thing.”

Her eyes trailed over to see if the kids were listening, but Maki and Megumi were too engrossed in what was happening outside while munching on their adzuki cakes. Nevertheless, she dropped her voice. “We’re going to war with Jujutsu Headquarters.”

Chiyo didn’t respond right away, and it looked as if she, too, was absorbed in the snowball fight outside. Then, quietly, she said, “I assume you’re well prepared to go up against them. It will not be easy, but we Ioris will support you in this endeavor.”

Shoko looked up at that with surprise, but Chiyo was still staring outside with a soft smile on her face.

“We may be reclusive,” she continued, “but we’re not ignorant to the happenings outside this estate. We heard about the Gojo Clan declaring war on the Zenins and how Satoru and Suguru laid waste to the long-standing family.” She eyed Shoko with a secretive smile. “I give my personal thanks to the Gojos for enacting vengeance on a clan that has long abused our own.”

Her lips thinned as she pictured nine year old Chiyo sitting where forty-five year old Chiyo sat. She would have the same big, doe eyes and long, dark hair, only it would be done up in some hairdo that had been popular decades ago. She pictured her sitting there with small hands cupping hot tea, wondering if she was going to be sent off as a child bride to the Zenins. Thinking later, after her clan had thankfully refused the offer, that the family shrine going up in flames was all her fault.

“They had it coming,” she said after a moment. Awkwardly, she fiddled with her coffee cup and coughed. “I don’t know how long we’ll need to stay here, by the way.”

Chiyo brushed off the sudden change in topic, stood, and offered Shoko a slight bow before saying, “Do not fret. It has been many years since it has been this lively here on our little estate. I will miss it when the silence returns.”

Shoko watched her as she quietly left but turned when everyone rushed back into the warmth of the home. The children and Satoru shed their layers of coats on the engawa and dove under the kotatsu’s covers. Shoko held onto her coffee as the table jerked from the boisterous roughhousing, and eventually she ended up squished between Getou and Nanako. The kids had already found their adzuki cakes and were stuffing the treats into their mouths. The fragile wafer casing stuck to their fingers and flaked all over the place as the red bean paste clung to their blue lips.

“I want to learn how to make these,” Tsumiki marveled after taking one bite.

“Can I try them when you make them?” Mai asked before stuffing the rest of hers in her mouth.

“Sure! I always appreciate the feedback!”

“I think I have frostbite,” Satoru suddenly determined as he held out his reddened hands, fingers looking like cherry popsicles.

“You don’t have frostbite,” Shoko sighed from the other end of the table.

“Yeah? How would you know?”

She blinked and turned to Nanako. “Did you girls have fun?”

“Hey!”

Nanako lit up and nodded. Her cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk’s, and Shoko heard Getou grumble about manners on the other side of her. He was like her personal furnace the way heat radiated off of him despite the cold, and Shoko had to stop herself from subconsciously leaning into his warmth. She still didn’t know where they stood.

“Yeah! I finally landed a hit on Uncle Satoru!”

“Uncle?” all three of them asked at once.

Undeterred by the attention, Nanako nodded. “Yeah! Getou says that Satoru was like a brother to him, but that they had a huge fight and never made up. But they made up now, and he’s like a brother to him again, right? So, that makes him my uncle!”

Mimiko gasped. “Does that mean more birthday presents?”

“Mimiko!” Getou admonished much to Shoko’s amusement.

“What?” Mimiko shrugged like the question wasn’t rude at all. She turned back to Gojo. “Uncle Gojo, I really like dolls—”

“Mimiko, that’s rude,” Getou continued to reproach.

“But I don’t want him to get me something I won’t want,” she reasoned, and Shoko finally snorted, unable to hold back her laughter anymore.

Maki cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “You know what they call people like you, Mimiko?”

“What?”

“A gold digger.”

Shoko inhaled her coffee by accident and coughed violently as it tried to come back up. She didn’t miss Mai’s gasp, Satoru’s loud guffaw of laughter, or Mimiko asking Getou what a gold digger was.

Satoru came to the rescue with a distraction. “Don’t worry, Mimi, I’ll get you all the dolls you could ever want. Even the ones that talk late at night when they shouldn’t. I’m sure Suguru would love that.”

She shrugged again. “I don’t mind. Getou says I sleep like a rock.”

“Mimiko, you already have enough dolls,” Suguru sighed as he patted Shoko’s back.

Shoko gasped as her coughing subsided. As soon as she could breathe again, she felt a tug on her sweater. Nanako was just finishing her treat and licking her lips when she asked, “Why is your finger crooked?” She pointed to Shoko’s pinky, and everyone at the table was now staring at her.

The atmosphere felt like it had shifted. She swallowed and looked down at her bent pinky. Slamming a door on it had done that, but she wasn’t going to get into the gruesome details. Only Utahime knew the real truth, but Suguru and Satoru had guessed somewhere down the line in all the years she’d known them.

“It was an accident,” she said simply. She could forgive herself for this one lie.

“Why don’t you heal it?” Mai asked from beside Gojo. Shoko caught his searing-blue eyes, suddenly serious and watching her intently, but she smiled as she pretended to be fine.

“It’s a reminder to be careful in the future. Who wants more adzuki cakes?”

Every child raised their hand, and Satoru got up from the table and stretched. “Let me go call the servants. Shoko, you need a smoke break?”

He was giving her an out if she needed one. A moment to breathe and let the memories wash themselves away while out of eyesight of everyone here.

But, strangely enough, she was okay. “No, I’ll have one later.”

He nodded in understanding and walked out of the room, arms crossed back behind his head. She felt Suguru nudge her with his shoulder. She nudged him back without looking in his direction and continued to sip at her coffee, hoping it would hide her growing smile.

Her broken pinky tingled.

“There!” Nanako shouted triumphantly. “I fixed it!”

Shoko snapped her gaze in the girl’s direction, took in her decorated phone waving around, and looked down at her pinky.

For years whenever she glanced down at her hand, her awkward, bent pinky would always stick out to her first. The reminder would always float into her mind. The images of that day would slam forward afterward, and phantom pains would race up her arm. You can’t heal what you don’t understand, she would chant to herself and turn to her anatomy and histology textbooks.

From this moment on, however, she would look down and see a completely healed finger.

She didn’t realize she’d dropped her coffee cup until it clattered across the table. The girls shrieked and jumped back, and Nanako’s triumphant smile vanished. Gojo warped back into the room at the commotion, but Shoko had already grabbed the girl by the shoulders and was shaking her.

“How did you do that?” she demanded frantically. “Did you use reverse cursed technique?”

Nanako paled, and her words left her in a squeak. “N-No, I used just used my phone’s camera—”

“You can use your camera to heal others?”

Nanako’s eyes widened and snapped between her and Getou behind her. “Yes?”

Getou’s arms came around her and gently took her wrists, prying them away from his daughter’s shoulders. “Shoko, calm do—”

She whirled on him and grabbed him by the sweatshirt. Her eyes were the widest and most frantic he’d seen them in years. “Do you know what this means? I’m the only healer, Suguru! Not even Gojo can heal other people, just me! And now someone else has the ability to heal.” She let go of him and stared off into space as the information hit her. She wasn’t the only healer anymore. Nanako could fix people’s broken bones—at the age of eight. Shoko hadn’t been able to heal her own finger at that age. Bones were too complicated. Bruises, scrapes, welts, black eyes—she could do all that. But the complicated structures of bones and tendons and muscles and—

She whipped around and grabbed Nanako by the shoulders again. “Nanako, what you just did was amazing. Your ability is going to benefit so many people.”

The blonde child blinked at her. “It is?”

“Yes. So many sorcerers lose their lives because they fight curses, and I’m the only doctor who can heal them if they can’t use RCT to heal themselves. A lot of people can’t use RCT, Nanako. A lot. But now you can help—”

Once again, Suguru reached around and pulled her back. “Shoko, you’re confusing her. She’s eight. She doesn’t understand.”

She turned around and met his calm gaze, but the thoughts in her head were racing. “When I was eight—”

“She’s not you,” he said softly. “I made sure she and Mimiko would never grow up that way.”

It was as if the wind in her sails died off, and she stopped to let his words sink in. She nodded, accepting that. “I … I think I need a smoke after all.”

“I’ll go with you,” he replied and stood, taking her hands and pulling her up. She didn’t look at anyone as she left the room, only pausing long enough to put on her boots at the door.

The crisp air outside the home stole her breath as it caressed her cheeks in an icy breeze that whipped by. It snapped her into an automatic focus, and all the thoughts in her head died, replaced with the need to retrace steps she hadn’t had to take in years. She barely noticed Suguru behind her.

They crossed the perfectly landscaped yard and stepped onto the stone path that wrapped around the property. It would eventually take them to a viewpoint where they could see the city of Sapporo, but only in the winter when the leaves had all fallen. Her pace was fast, and only Getou’s long legs allowed him to keep up with her. They got to the lookout point all too quickly, and Shoko sat down on the stone bench and stared out at the dull-looking city. Sapporo was beautiful at night, but in the morning hours it was nothing to write home about with its big, chunky buildings now devoid of the springtime greenery.

Suguru gingerly sat beside her, and it was only then she remembered to pull out a cigarette. The first one she pulled out was plucked out of her fingers, and her eyes followed the stick until it was placed between Suguru’s lips. He pulled out his own lighter and lit it, and she watched him intently.

“Wanna talk?” he asked as he blew out a breath, the smoke camouflaged by the sheer cold.

She nodded but took her cigarette back and pulled the smoke into her lungs first. “Sorry,” she said after a moment. She fiddled with the stick in between her fingers as she thought about what to say next, but words escaped her, so she took another hit before passing it back to him. “That was a lot to process just then.”

He nodded as he smoked. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s my daughter, and I didn’t know she could do that.” He shook his head and sighed. “It never even occurred to me her technique could be used in that way.”

“It realistically shouldn’t,” Shoko said, still as bewildered as she had been back in the house. “Cursed energy cannot heal someone—not unless they’re a curse, but hers allows her to because of her technique. And because its cursed energy, she isn’t limited like me. She could use this offensively if she had to—Suguru, Nanako’s technique is really powerful.”

He nodded again, eyes cast down to the city, but it was clear he wasn’t looking at Sapporo. “If she utilizes it correctly. A good sorcerer doesn’t become good just because of their technique—look at Mei Mei for example.”

“Yes, but it helps. It has the potential of being some cheap parlor trick or a seriously useful tool that will save sorcerers’ lives.” She took her cigarette back with trembling fingers, though she couldn’t tell if that was from the cold or the shock.

Suguru frowned and caught her hand before it could reach her lips. “Your hands are freezing.” He tucked her hand in his own and pulled it over to his sweats’ front pocket. The fleece lining inside was warm. Her other hand would just have to suffer while she smoked.

“She’ll be a boon to Jujutsu Headquarters,” she said after a quiet moment where the only sounds were the tweeting birds and the rustle of branches rubbing against each other in the wind.

“I don’t want that for her,” he replied. His fingers squeezed around hers, and she shuffled closer to him. “I keep envisioning a future where all the kids attend Jujutsu High, and I don’t know what’s worse—them going off to fight curses and ending up in body bags, or Nanako sitting in the morgue by herself cutting them up.”

She swallowed and took another hit off her cigarette. It was a horrible reality to think about … mostly because it had the potential to come true. When Shoko eventually died, someone would have to take her place. She didn’t wish her job on someone as bright-eyed as Nanako because Shoko had once been that cheerful and energetic, but she’d slowly eroded away as the days blurred by with nothing but gray walls around her until she couldn’t tell who was more unfeeling, her or the corpse in front of her?

“I guess we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen,” he said after a moment, and his words caused her thoughts to still in her head.

She peered over at him, not moving as he pushed into her space and reached for her cigarette. “Can you promise that?” Not just for Nanako, but for Mimiko, and Maki, and Mai, and Megumi (and possibly Tsumiki) and every other child that came to Jujutsu High. They had the strongest sorcerers alive on their side. If they couldn’t do it, no one could.

His gaze traveled over the panes of her face, dipping to her lips before catching her eyes. His were so bright even as dark as they were in color. There was so much life to them now than there had ever been before. “I can promise I’ll stop at nothing to make them the strongest they can be, so they never have to die.”

“So we never have to examine their remains,” she added.

He nodded. “So you never have to examine their remains.”

The cigarette was done, and he ashed the remains on the stone bench between them. It was time to walk back. The girls likely had questions. Gojo had probably figured out what happened by now, but he’d want to check up on her. They stood to their feet, and Suguru pocketed the cigarette butt before starting off toward the house.

With their hands still intertwined, Shoko tugged him back to her before he could get too far. He peered over his shoulder, a question on the tip of his tongue, but he was silenced as her hand rose up and laid itself gently across his chest. Her reversed cursed energy flowed into his body, spreading out through him from each of her five finger points. All the injuries from the previous fights that he hadn’t healed with his own RCT melted away until even the tiniest bit of damage from their last shared cigarette was gone.

His eyes widened, and his hand came up to gently rest over hers. They locked gazes, and there weren’t any words that needed to be said between them. They understood one another in this regard.

She forgave him, his atrocities, his wayward thinking, and for walking away.

She accepted him, his faults, his flaws, his mistakes.

He had earned his place back in her life, and he would remain in it forever.

When her hand fell, he aimed her a boyish grin she hadn’t seen him wear in years. She returned it with a smile just as bright.

Chapter Text

When they stepped back into the guest home, Shoko noticed the shoji panels had been closed. As the morning had turned into noon, the skies had grayed out and the temperature had dropped even further. It was toasty warm inside, but she wouldn’t be happy until she was back under the kotatsu.

Satoru was surrounded by the children on all sides, but he had his attention on Nanako and her cell phone. Various objects were lined up in front of him: a small chest, a twig from outside, a water bottle, and Shoko’s empty coffee cup. He didn’t bother looking up at them as they neared but said, “Watch this,” and held up the twig. Using his long thumb, he snapped the branch nearly in half. “Okay, Nanako.”

Nanako looked a little more tired than she had earlier, but she snapped a photo of the twig without fuss. Shoko and Getou reclaimed their seats, but by the time they had sat down, the twig was already back to its original form.

“We all assumed she could do that,” Satoru said, now holding up the small chest, “but look at this.” He opened up the chest, and inside the box was another broken twig. He closed the chest and set it down.

Without prompting, Nanako took a photo of the chest. Everyone waited with baited breath as the moments passed by until Satoru reopened the chest. Inside, the twig remained broken.

Nanako sagged in her seat. “I can’t do it no matter how many times we try.”

Getou reached around Shoko and ruffled her blonde hair. “It’s okay, Nana. No one starts out perfect.”

“Every technique has its limitations,” Gojo said pragmatically. “Yours is simply limited to things you can see. You could see the snapped twig just as you could see Shoko’s broken pinky. You couldn’t see the snapped twig in the box.” He uncapped the water bottle and poured some of the water in the cup. “You can see the water in the bottle, but you can’t see it in the cup—so what will happen when you use your technique?”

Nanako wiped at her face and took a deep breath before holding up her camera. The flash went off, and Shoko and Getou exchanged glances before turning their attention to the water bottle.

In the blink of an eye, it was full again. Everyone leaned over, and the water in the mug was gone.

“I thought she couldn’t change what she couldn’t see?” Tsumiki queried with a small, confused frown on her delicate face.

Satoru tapped the cap of the water bottle. “But she can see the water in the bottle, and she could see where it used to be. So, let’s say someone’s on the ground losing a lot of blood. She could snap a picture of them, and all the blood would go back and replace what was lost, and she would close the wound up at the same time.”

“But there has to be an injury on the surface for her to be able to fix, even if that injury goes further than skin-deep,” Shoko added on, piecing the puzzle together. “If someone were to rupture a kidney, she wouldn’t be able to fix anything because she can’t see it. But if someone were to be shot with a bullet, and it tore through the same kidney, she could fix it then because she would revert the body back to its original state.”

Getou leaned forward with a calculative expression. “What if she took X-rays and saw the injury that way? Would she be able to take a picture of the X-ray and fix the ruptured kidney then?”

Satoru nodded along in thought, eyes scanning the objects before him with careful consideration. “We could try that hypothesis out. Nanako, how squeamish are you?”

The girl rubbed at her tired eyes. “What does squeamish mean?”

“I think that’s enough for now.” Getou reached over and dragged her over to him, holding her in his lap. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she laid her head against his chest without another word.

“Why is Nana tired?” Mimiko asked with concern, kicking off the kotatsu blanket and racing over. “Is she sick?”

“Using a lot of cursed energy takes a lot out of you,” Shoko assured, though she did do a temp check by placing her wrist against the girl’s forehead. “She’s fine, just needs some rest.”

Satoru grinned, already pulling out his cell phone and typing away (probably to Utahime). “That’s okay. It’s Mimiko’s turn anyway.”

Shoko thought Mimiko’s wide-eyed look of apprehension was completely justified.

Shoko sat on the edge of the engawa with a pocky stick in her mouth. It was a terrible substitute for a cigarette, but she didn’t want to smoke again so soon and she didn’t want to leave the house. She also respected Chiyo and the rest of the Ioris enough not to smoke around the home.

Getou had taken Mimiko and Nanako—completely worn out from their mini-training sessions with Gojo—out on the town as a reward. Satoru, of course, wanted to see what the local sweet shops had to offer, and Tsumiki and Mai had begged to go with him. It was surprising, honestly, that he had been so willing to let them come along.

Megumi had picked up his PSP Go and headphones and curled up under the kotatsu without a word. The shoji door behind her slid open, and the last child came padding over to her and sat down beside her. She was still bundled up in all her layers and kept her gloved hands under her armpits for warmth.

“You didn’t want to go with Satoru?”

Maki shook her head. “I don’t like sweets all that much. Not like they do.”

She hummed and crunched down on her pocky. The chocolate coating had started to melt in her mouth. “Probably too soon to be left alone with Getou too—not that he’d do anything.” She turned to her suddenly, wanting to make that clear. “He won’t hurt you. I yelled at him enough, and Satoru beat him up. We got him to change his mind about non-sorcerers.”

Maki could only hold onto her cool and aloof persona for so long before her smirk broke across her face. She snickered and looked out over the landscaped garden and toward the thick forest. Her smile slowly fell. “I called him when you got kidnapped. I didn’t know what else to do, and Gojo and Utahime were fighting.”

Shoko pulled the girl closer to her and wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “You did good, Maki. And, I think … I think, because of you, you fixed Gojo and Getou’s friendship.”

She looked up in surprise. “I did?”

Shoko nodded, sure of herself this time. “Yeah. You calling Getou forced them to work together for the first time in four years.” She caught her eyes and offered her a small smile. “Not even I could do that. So, thank you, Maki.”

Maki’s eyes shined, and she quickly looked away and sniffed. “My nose is running from the cold,” she hurried to say even though Shoko didn’t ask.

She hummed, allowing her to think she’d been fooled.

A quiet hush settled between them, blanketed further by the snow all around. It looked like a major battle had taken place back here with all the chaotic track marks trucking through the once-pristine powder. The girls’ fort stood abandoned and half-demolished after Satoru had nosedived into it. Suguru’s fort had giant holes blasted through it from where Mai had tucked rocks into her snowballs. The snowman, the sole survivor and lone witness to all the carnage, stood further back with a twiggy arm saluting all those who had fallen in the war.

“I wanted—” Maki said suddenly but cut herself off just as quickly. Shoko peered over at her but didn’t say anything. Maki would either tell her or choose not to, but Shoko wasn’t the type to push. Eventually, Maki let go of a big sigh and said, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay,” she replied, voice light. From the girl’s tone alone, it was clear whatever she wanted to ask was weighing heavy on her. After everything they’d gone through, it could be literally anything.

“Are you …” She sighed harshly and started over. “Do you wish I had more cursed energy?”

Slowly, Shoko looked down at the girl beside her. The girl she had fought off trained swordsmen for, who she’d stood up to Getou for, who she had taken in from a blood-thirsty clan and stayed on the run for.

Maki wouldn’t even look at her. “Like Nanako?”

Ah. Shoko took a deep breath and sighed out, “No, Maki. I don’t.”

Maki’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. There was a look of disbelief on her face, and her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You don’t? Not even a little bit?”

She shook her head. “If you had more cursed energy, you would have become some mindless slave for the Zenins to control. I would have never gotten to meet you or Mai. And remember what I said earlier? Getou and Gojo may have never gotten over their differences. I would have never seen Getou at all. He would have gone on to do horrible things he could never be redeemed for. I would still be in the morgue, cutting up dead bodies, and when I was done, I would go home to an empty dorm all by myself.” She pushed a lock of hair back behind Maki’s ear. “You and Mai … you’re the most important people in my life now.” Her eyes had steadily grown hotter and hotter, and now her voice was thick with emotion. “I love you, Maki, and I don’t want to change anything about you.”

She didn’t know what direction her life would have gone in if Maki and Mai hadn’t been shoved onto her all those nights ago. Would she have continued to live a monotonous life under the higher ups’ thumb? Would Getou really have become the murderer he was so determined to be? Would Gojo ever bounce back—truly bounce back? Or would he hide behind his clown persona and relive the exact moment it all went wrong for the rest of his life?

Were it not for Maki and Mai, she believed wholeheartedly she, Satoru, and Suguru would never have been happy again. Not really. They might have found some semblance of joy or delight in the coming years, but never would they find real happiness. The last time any of them would have felt that way would have been when they were mere second years in high school. The thought was as depressing as the last four years had been.

Maki bit down on her lip to stop it from trembling. “Even though I’m not useful like the others?”

Shoko took her filled-out, chubby cheeks into her hands and pulled her close to drop a lingering kiss to her forehead. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Maki. Being useful is doing what only you can do really well. You promised me you would train really hard so that you could always protect me, and so that I would never have to rely on Gojo ever again, remember?”

Maki sniffed and nodded, eyes still downcast.

“Are you going to go back on your promise so soon?”

She finally looked up at her and shook her head. “No! I’m gonna train hard to be the best I can be.”

“Then that’s how you become useful, Maki. You try your very best and you never give up. I’ll always be proud of you for that.”

“Promise?” she asked quietly, eyes skirting away as if afraid of the answer.

Shoko held up her pinky finger. “Promise.”

Maki and Mai acted as if Christmas had come early when they were served Kaisen-Don for dinner. It was a sushi fanatic’s dream dish; a bowl of steaming rice topped with juicy salmon and roe, shelled crab legs, scallops, and sea urchin. Tsumiki had been willing to try the salmon eggs, but Megumi had looked at the halved urchins with alarm.

Shoko cracked a crab leg and tried to keep a straight face as the boy inspected the suspicious-looking topping. Gojo—the devil—reached over and grabbed the boy with a shout that made him jump.

“Stop that,” he snapped with a flat frown.

Satoru snickered and popped a piece of salmon in his mouth. “Can’t help it,” he said around the bite. “You looked so scared.”

“I’m not scared of some sea urchin.”

“Eat it then.”

Megumi, for all his bravado, suddenly looked nervous over the prospect of eating said sea urchin.

“Satoru, stop bullying Megumi,” Shoko sighed and glanced over at Suguru for help. The man had spooned a heaping of salmon roe up for Mimiko to try, but the girl’s mouth was closed for business.

“Just try it,” he pleaded, sighing when she resolutely shook her head. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Mimiko dropped her clamped hands from her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him. “Shoko says your promises mean nothing.”

Shoko choked this time on a crab leg.

“Psst, Shoko.”

Shoko sighed. She’d just fallen asleep around … sometime earlier. She wasn’t actually sure what time it was now, but it certainly didn’t feel like she’d been out long.

“Shoko.”

She sat up with a grumble and aimed her best, tired glare at the two boys—not men—boys grinning like idiots next to her.

“This better be good,” she warned.

“It is,” Suguru assured and gave her his hand. She took it and let him pull her out from under the kotatsu. She shivered at the drop in temperature, but Satoru was there tossing her a throw blanket.

Everyone was currently passed out around the table. Mimiko had once again retold the story of Suguru and Manami’s wardrobe switcheroo—much to the displeasure of her sister and father—after Getou had all but forced the salmon roe down her throat. She had not liked it, so the story was an eight year old’s version of vengeance. Tsumiki had told them all about the time she nearly burned down the kitchen with her first baking experience. Shoko told everyone how Gojo got beat up by their principal all the time for messing up. Gojo had retaliated by telling them about how Shoko fell that one time in Shinjuku and ripped her pants. She’d had to borrow Suguru’s jacket to cover her butt. Shoko, unbothered by everyone’s laughter, proceeded to tell them about the bubble bath incident.

They had gone back and forth for nearly an hour after that, dragging Suguru and then eventually poor Utahime into their storytelling until it was so late everyone was too full and too tired to get up and go sleep in their rooms.

Shoko pulled the blanket tighter over her shoulders and squinted in the darkness. Satoru had pulled on his gaudy, orange jacket, and she understood why when he reached over and pushed open the shoji panels.

Oh.

It was snowing.

Fat, heavy flakes were dropping from the heavens and blanketing the lawn as the icy wind that whipped by stole her breath and carried the cloudy puff away. The lights from the lanterns lining the walkways of the estate cast flickering shadows over the white, rolling hills, and the moon broke through the cover of clouds for just a moment to shine down onto the trees in the surrounding forest and make their swaying branches look like skeletal bones.

It was so quiet. She couldn’t help but marvel at how serene it was watching all the snowflakes, every one of them unique, fall to the ground and meld together, becoming one with the land. She rarely got to see the snow fall whenever it did reach Tokyo. She was always in the morgue. How long had it been since she’d gotten to witness a scene like this? Now that she thought about it, it had been … many, many years.

“Shoko, wake up,” her father whispered.

“What?” she’d mumbled sleepily.

Her mother gently pulled her out of bed. “Come look out the window, honey.”

She was led over to the giant window in the living room, and her daddy hoisted her up into his arms and moved the curtain aside. A flurry of snow rushed by, piling up all over the yard.

“Isn’t it pretty?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

“You think I should wake the girls?” Suguru whispered beside her.

She smiled as the memory faded. “Yeah. I think I’ll wake Maki and Mai too.”

Satoru cracked his knuckles with a grin. “Guess that means it’s on me to wake Megumi and Tsumiki.”

Both Shoko and Suguru responded with an immediate and resounding, “No.”

The days passed by in a blur. One went by, then two, then a week. Sometimes, a gnawing guilt would plague Shoko that she wasn’t available to any sorcerers sent out on missions. How many were dying while she was eating Hokkaido-style ramen? Or curled up watching the kids fight to the death with snowballs? Or going out on the town to placate Satoru who just had to show her this one sweet shop?

But then she was reminded of her position, of who had put her in this position, and the guilt—while still there—faded into the background. She knew Gojo and Getou weren’t not working behind the scenes. She had seen them on their cell phones typing away here or there or talking to someone in what looked like a highly confidential call. The kids didn’t notice, thankfully. They’d spent the days having the time of their lives, tucked away from the world that wanted to tear them apart.

She knew that this would one day end. What the future held she still didn’t know, but she knew these snowy days in Hokkaido couldn’t last forever.

Even though she wished they would.

She blinked and came back to the conversation unfolding around her. The adults were sitting at the kotatsu, just the three of them, on a bitter, Tuesday evening discussing very important matters.

“No, I’m clearly Bleach because I have the best taste in fashion,” Satoru declared, slamming his hot chocolate down on the table.

Shoko sipped at her coffee calmly. “Like I said, I’m Bleach because Bleach has the most badass women. You’re One Piece because you’re so goofy.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Suguru hummed with a thoughtful expression. “No, he has to be Naruto.”

Satoru glared at him. “Is that supposed to be a Kakashi joke? We cover different parts of our faces, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, but the white hair ties it all together.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “You do know that in saying that, that makes you One Piece, right?”

Suguru made a face. “Never mind, I’ll be Naruto.”

“Yeah!” Satoru eagerly agreed. “You’re Itachi.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take it.”

“Which means I’m Blea—”

“I’m Bleach,” Shoko interrupted.

“And just who in Bleach are you?” Gojo argued, growing more exasperated. “Orihime?”

Shoko leveled him with her most deadpan stare. “Unohana.”

Suguru’s eyes lit up. “Ah, no, I can see it. She’s definitely Bleach.”

“What!”

A shrill ringing cut off their banter, and each of them stilled and looked down to the lit up phone buzzing beside Satoru. He answered it quickly with a low murmur. Shoko had hoped it would be Utahime to back her up, but it was clearly … work.

Gojo’s frown slowly disappeared, and his eyes widened just barely. Shoko and Getou exchanged glances. This couldn’t be good. He muttered a goodbye and ended the phone call.

“Well?” Suguru demanded before Satoru could get lost in his own head.

Gojo’s eyes were gleaming behind the rims of his glasses. “My mother finally tracked down the identity of The Laughing Fox. Some of the clan members were sent out on reconnaissance and were able to locate his general base of operations via cursed techniques, but they had to pull back because of the wards put in place.”

As it turned out, each Jujutsu Lieutenant had a code name so their real identities wouldn’t be so easily discovered. Satoru’s mother, Gojo Naomi, was an amazing sorcerer for her time, but she was so overshadowed by her own son that few hardly remembered her. She’d faded away into the safety of the clan after his birth, but that didn’t mean she’d stopped working. The fact she had managed to unearth one of the higher ups’ true identities was a testament to her abilities.

The only ones who knew about Jujutsu Headquarters’ involvement in the human experimentation projects, outside the three of them (and Utahime), were now the Gojo Clan. It was a gamble to tell too many others until they were prepared with a plan set in place.

“What happens now?” Shoko asked as she set down her empty mug. She didn’t follow politics even when they were spelled out right in front of her. She could understand some things to a degree, but just thinking about all the conniving, manipulative, and calculative possibilities that one had to run through was mentally exhausting.

“We’re going to need more people in our corner,” Satoru explained. His fingers were steepled and held up against his lips as he contemplated their next move.

Shoko raised an eyebrow at this. “You need more people in your corner?”

“It’s not a matter of strength. I could kill all the higher ups easily enough, but they would just be replaced by others with the same mindset as their predecessors. If not right away, it wouldn’t take long before they were corrupted. Power, when not kept in check, gets to people’s heads.”

There was a quiet stillness that blanketed the room. That was neither a dig at Suguru any more than it was at Satoru’s own ego, yet it fit just the same.

Satoru continued. “No, what we need is for them to see how much they’re outnumbered. We have to change their way of thinking—”

“This isn’t Suguru we’re talking about,” Shoko interrupted. “These people have been experimenting on children for years. There is no redemption for them.”

“I’m not saying that,” Satoru sighed. “I don’t think the entire council is in on the human experimentation projects, though. The Laughing Fox—Ogawa Akio—will be subject to trial along with anyone else in on it. They’ll be due the death penalty.”

“How do you know?” she pressed.

A shadow crossed over his face. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Shoko sighed and leaned back. “So, we need people in our corner. Utahime will no doubt be one—don’t even think about opposing her, Satoru.”

Satoru’s mouth shut, but the creases in his brow remained.

“She’s going to want to be there, and if she puts her foot down, I’m sure Gakuganji will either take her side or take no one’s side. Don’t give me that look. He’s got a soft spot for her. Anyway, I’m sure both of you could probably afford to pay Mei Mei off to join us.”

Suguru looked offended. “‘Probably’?”

“It’s Mei Mei we’re talking about here, and you’ll be asking her to go up against the higher ups.”

Suguru’s expression melted away. “That’s true.”

Shoko racked her brain, but every face she saw in her mental carousel of sorcerers were dead. “Who else is there? Yaga?”

“Larue is still loyal—and alive.”

“To be fair,” Satoru quickly said and held up a finger, “Negi tried to kill me first.”

“You attacked him first.”

“He got into a fighting stance first.”

Suguru heaved a heavy sigh and scrubbed at his face. “You’re one of the strongest—”

“‘One of?’ You mean the strongest—”

“Exactly my point—”

Shoko clapped her hands, and both of them turned to her. “Talk about your homicidal tendencies later. Who else can we bring on board?”

Satoru leaned back and peered into his now cold hot chocolate. He sighed. “I’ll call Nanami.”

Oh? That was surprising.

Kento Nanami was between worlds at the moment. He’d left Jujutsu High a while ago for a career in business, but he’d pop back in every once in a blue moon to take on a special request from Yaga. It was rare, and Shoko only ever knew he was at the school when the dishes she left in the sink were cleaned and put away. He was still very much elusive to most of them, though.

“You think he’ll agree? You’re a criminal,” she reminded.

“He knows I never do anything without a reason. He might be a little rusty though.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Suguru leaned forward, eyes flicking to random objects in the room as his mind churned with strategies. He blew out a long sigh and finally locked eyes with Shoko and Satoru. “I think I have someone in mind who can turn the tide on the higher ups, and I believe once he hears the reason we’re going up against them, he’ll be more inclined to join our side.”

Satoru looked intrigued. “Someone we know?”

“Not likely. I only recently found out about him myself, but you just reminded me of him when you spoke of putting the higher ups on trial. I learned through my organization’s networking of a sorcerer with a technique so similar to Dragon Court that I found myself interested in him for his abilities. We only spoke once, but he wasn’t interested in what the Time Vessel Association stood for and bowed out. Now, however …”

He let his sentence hang, but Shoko wasn’t here for his dramatics. “What’s the guy’s name?”

Suguru’s smile was unsettling. “Higuruma Hiromi.”

Chapter Text

“When are we going to leave this place?” Mai whispered. She’d been quiet the whole night up until now. She must have known Shoko was awake, though how was a mystery.

Shoko rolled over and faced the little girl. Maki was passed out and snoring in the other futon where Mai was supposed to be, but at some point in the night she had wiggled over to Shoko’s futon. She thought at first Mai had needed to go pee, but she hadn’t had to wake up to do that lately, and she’d only had one accident three nights ago. The three of them had pinky promised not to tell anyone but the servant in charge of cleaning it.

“Soon,” Shoko whispered back. “I don’t know when exactly.”

In the moonlight that glowed through the shoji doors, she watched Mai’s expression fall. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Me either.”

Mai looked up, expression hopeful. “Can’t we stay here then?”

“No,” Shoko replied softly. “This isn’t our home.”

Her eyes glazed over for a moment as if thinking about something. After a quiet moment, she asked, “What does ‘home’ mean?”

Shoko’s brow pinched in confusion. “It’s where you live.”

“So, how is this not our home? We’re living here.”

Ah. “No, we’re staying here. We’re not living here.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Home is where you live for a really long time. It’s where you’re happy and make lots of memories.”

“You have to stay somewhere for a really long time and be happy there?”

Shoko shrugged. That was more or less what a home was, wasn’t it? “Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh.” Mai looked like she was thinking again. “We’ve never had a home before.”

Those words shot through Shoko’s heart in a way she hadn’t been prepared for. She brought her hand out from under the duvet and tucked a lock of hair behind Mai’s ear. “I know,” she whispered. “When this is all over, we’ll have a home together. Just us three.” At the beginning of this endeavor, she never would have thought she’d say those words, but here she was two and a half weeks later making it a promise.

Mai’s eyes began to shine, and she pulled her lip in between her teeth. Shoko poked at it, and she laughed quietly when Mai lunged across the remaining space and threw her arms around Shoko’s middle.

“I can’t wait,” she said softly with breathless excitement, head resting on Shoko’s chest. “We never had a mommy before either, and now we’re gonna have both. A mommy and a home.”

Shoko grimaced against the squeezing sensation in her chest, but Mai thankfully couldn’t see her expression. There was that word again. Mom. Mommy. This was her life now. Whether it be what she wanted or not, there was no going back. Despite all her flaws, these kids looked up to her and loved her and wanted her. She knew she wasn’t qualified, yet that didn’t seem to matter to them.

“You try your very best and you never give up.”

God, her own words were being thrown right back at her by her own mind.

She swallowed and leaned her cheek against the top of Mai’s head. “I can’t … I can’t promise I’ll be a good mommy. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Mai’s voice was so small next to her. “But you said you loved us.”

“I do.” She knew that more than she knew anything else.

“And you said you wouldn’t leave us.”

“I won’t.”

“Doesn’t that make you a good mommy then?”

Shoko's lip began to tremble. She supposed that, yes, that was exactly what made her a good mommy.

“You’re coming up here?” Shoko queried in confusion, cell phone balanced between her shoulder and her ear as she poured herself another cup of coffee. Her question had everyone in the room looking up, but she ignored them as she reclaimed her spot next to Getou at the kotatsu. His warm hand came up to span the small of her back, and she had to stop the shiver from skittering up her spine. “Do your parents know?”

“No, it’s a surprise,” Utahime said on the other end. “There’s a lot of faculty meetings going on in preparation for the new year, so our professor—who doesn’t give us a lot of assignments anyway—said after Friday we could take off until November 8th. I’ll probably get there late on the 29th. I already booked my flight.”

Shoko nodded, sipping her coffee and leaning into Getou’s warmth. No one seemed to notice (excluding Gojo because the man saw literally everything, but he wasn’t going to say anything with Utahime on the phone). “Good. You’ll be here just in time.”

“Eh?”

“The boys made a plan this morning. We’re headed to Nagoya the morning of the 31st.”

“What’s in Nagoya?”

Shoko hummed and accepted some tofu from Mai. Chewing, she replied softly, “The location of the higher ups.”

Utahime gasped in shock. “They’re in Nagoya?”

The location of Jujutsu Headquarters was highly confidential and kept secret from nearly all of jujutsu sorcerers. Of course, Satoru’s Six Eyes saw through everything—even the highly advanced and complicated barrier Master Tengen had enacted around headquarters. Knowing this, Satoru had been given authorization to come whenever the council summoned him.

“It is right in the middle of the Kyoto and Tokyo schools.”

“Yeah, but like … where in Nagoya? In Nagoya City or just the prefecture?”

Utahime was going to get a kick out of this. “Try the castle.”

“WHAT? How? The castle’s open to the public!”

Shoko couldn’t remember what exactly Satoru had said, so she gave her the watered down version. “Basically, Master Tengen has this super advanced barrier up that copies what’s on the inside and puts it out on the outside. The higher ups are in the real Nagoya Castle.”

“But what about the bombings from WWII? The Americans partially destroyed Honmaru Palace, some of the turrets, and the main keep!”

Shoko took a bite out of her grilled fish. “I didn’t take you for such a nerd.”

“Shoko!” she cried defensively.

“It’s Tengen, Uta. I don’t know how to explain it—Satoru, you tell her.” Without any more warning, she handed the phone off to Satoru who’d just stuffed a bunch of milk cookies into his mouth and now looked like a deranged chipmunk.

“Humugh-chaun?” Satoru’s voice came out disgustingly garbled, and Shoko was the only one outside of Suguru who had the stomach to watch as his food crumbled out of his mouth.

Everyone heard the line go dead instantly.

Satoru hastily swallowed. “I think she hung up on me.”

“You should call her back,” Shoko said with a devious smile not even her coffee cup could hide.

She didn’t catch Gojo’s stare behind his bandaged eyes, but if she had, she would have seen the man genuinely surprised. Shoko sounded like Shoko. Like the old Shoko. He snapped out of it and grinned before putting the phone up to his ear. “Of course I will. Should I put her on speaker phone so you can hear her reaction?”

She chuckled. “I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

They all listened intently as the phone rang, and Utahime finally picked up with a sigh. “Ugh, he is so annoying. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

Shoko shushed the girls as they began giggling, and Getou hid his grin behind his hand as Satoru made a loud, offended noise. “Hime-chan, that hurts my feelings you know!”

“Gojo!?” Utahime squawked. “What the hell are you doing with Shoko’s phone!”

“Eavesdropping,” he said unabashedly.

“Punk! Give it back!”

At Shoko and Suguru’s quiet behest, the kids were ushered out of the house. They would either be on their way to the hot springs or would find Chiyo and beg her for more treats. The woman was determined to fatten them all up. When the last of them left, Satoru regained control of the conversation as he announced their plan. Shoko tried to pay better attention this time around, but to her credit, she’d just woken up when the boys first pounced on her this morning.

They were supposed to set up a base in Nagoya the morning of the 31st. The barrier around Nagoya Castle was unique in that it was the only one of its kind and had been standing since the end of the castle’s construction during the Edo period. The barrier was called Duplication Barrier, and it faithfully copied what was inside the barrier to the outside with everyone else being none the wiser—barring one Gojo Satoru. It was so advanced that the “fake” castle could take real damage (such as the WWII bombing incident) while the “real” castle remained untouched.

One just had to know where the entrance to the real castle was located, and that was where Satoru came in.

There were three phases to the operation.

Phase One: Blackmail. They would converge onto the castle’s property at 9PM with their allies in an attempt to engage with Jujutsu Headquarters. It was a unanimous decision that they needed to confirm if all the higher ups were in on the human experimentation projects. If headquarters declined to speak, the evidence they had gathered would be spread through the Gojo Clan’s massive database and reach all sorcerers in Japan—as well as the prime minister who was responsible for choosing the jujutsu commander.

Regardless if the higher ups wanted to speak or not, they would move onto Phase Two: Judgment. Higuruma Hiromi had accepted Suguru’s invitation to judge the leaders of the jujutsu world. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all, and he would be regaled as a hero if he took down those involved. Whoever was determined guilty by Judgeman, Hiromi’s shikigami, would face the death penalty.

If at any point the higher ups decided to launch a counter attack, they would move on to Phase Three: Night Parade of One Hundred Demons.

This was where Suguru came in. Over the last three years, the man had been absorbing curses off non-sorcerers under the guise of a helpful monk from the Star Religious Group (the face of the Time Vessel Association). This did not include the curses he possessed beforehand. In his arsenal, he had a total of over two thousand curses of varying grades he was ready to release on Jujutsu Headquarters and anyone who sided with them. A veil would be drawn, and the few people who loitered around the castle after hours would be evacuated as the battle commenced.

Shoko was hoping it didn’t have to come to that, but she was going to be on standby just in case to heal anyone caught in the blast.

“Eh? Eh? Pretty good plan, huh, Uta-hime, wouldn’t you say? Go on, shower me with compliments. I’m all ears.”

The line was silent for a long moment. Then, “It’s suicide.”

Gojo visibly deflated, but he didn’t have time to fire off a snappy comeback before Uta started talking again.

“Do you think it’ll work?”

Suguru leaned forward. “Between the Gojo Clan on standby with incriminating evidence, Higuruma’s Judgeman, my two-thousand curses, and the support of highly respected sorcerers such as Nanami, Yaga, and Mei Mei, I say we stand a fairly good chance.”

“Oh, Yuki’s in too,” Gojo said suddenly, snapping his fingers as if just remembering.

“Yuki? As in Special Grade Tsukumo Yuki?”

Suguru’s dark eyes widened. “I thought she wasn’t interested?”

“Hello?”

Satoru shrugged. “I talked to her on the phone the other day. She’s in Bali right now. She’s totally down to go up against the higher ups.”

“Hellooo? Gojo, when did you start talking to Yuki?”

“Just here recently,” he replied, only half-paying attention.

“You realize this changes things right?” Suguru snapped. “Just the three of us showing up should be enough to change their mind and oust the culprits.”

“Ah, but then you wouldn’t get the chance to show off. I know you’re dying to impress Shoko over here.”

Suguru’s glare darkened, but the flush in his cheeks was unmistakable. Shoko patted him on the shoulder, though she didn’t know if that action helped any.

“Anyway,” she said, hoping to distract the two, “it’s basically guaranteed we’ll win against them, right?”

“Of course,” Satoru said with a grin. “I came up with the plan after all!”

Shoko nodded and motioned silently to take Utahime off speaker phone. Confused, Satoru obliged and leaned forward as she dropped her voice.

“Tell Uta you haven’t been talking to Yuki all that much. She’s gone quiet.” She stood up from the table then. “I’m going for a smoke.”

Hoping Gojo would bring up the topic gracefully but knowing he wouldn’t, Shoko was not surprised to hear him shout, “Hime-chan! Why are you so quiet now? Are you jealous I’m talkin’ to Yuki?”

Shoko could hear Utahime’s responding shout as if she were still on speaker phone. “WHAT! No way would I be jealous! Why would you even say that?”

“Aw, don’t be like that! You’re still the number one weakling in my eyes!”

“As if I care! Go to hell, Gojo!”

Suguru had followed her to the door, finger twirling in his ear as he grimaced. Satoru and Utahime were some of the loudest people they knew when they got worked up. “Do you think those two will ever get together?” he asked as he pulled on his thick coat. His sweatshirts hadn’t been enough to ward off Hokkaido’s searing cold winds.

Shoko wobbled on one leg as she pulled on her boot. “I hope so. If I have to watch Satoru longingly sigh at his phone when he talks to Uta for much longer, I’m gonna puke.”

“Ah, c’mon, I only text her once or twice a day. It’s not that much!”

Suguru face-palmed. “He’s blowing his chance as we speak.”

Shoko grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. “Don’t you know by now that’s part of his charm?”

“You okay?” Suguru asked after they reached the viewpoint. The bench was covered in snow but neither cared to sit at the moment.

“Yeah. Just thinking.” She’d been thinking the whole walk up here, and there was a lot on her mind. “About everything,” she said before Getou had the chance to ask.

He took out a cigarette and handed it to her. Once it was between her lips, he lit it up for her. “We’re going to be fine. We’re the strongest.”

Shoko nearly lost the cig after a laugh burst forth from her. She hadn’t heard those words in a long time. “I’m not worried about that.”

“You’re worried about something? You?”

“Very funny.”

They stood side by side for a while, taking in the view. A large snow cloud had gathered over the town, but snow had yet to reach the estate. She inhaled the smoke into her lungs and passed the stick, blowing out and watching the wind carry her breath away.

“I think after all this is over, I’m going to go see my dad.”

Suguru choked on his inhale, and Shoko had to reach up and rub at his back as he coughed.

“You have a dad?” he gritted out as he massaged his throat and handed her back her cigarette.

“Don’t we all?”

He leveled her with a look.

She sighed. “Yeah. He’s in prison for what he did to me and mom.” There was no point hiding the fact. Satoru and Suguru just didn’t know the details, and she’d like to keep it that way. The prison didn’t need to be Hollow Purpled or attacked by thousands of curses for her sake.

Suguru was quiet for a moment, and she appreciated the silence. It was hard to hear much when your heart was beating like a war drum in your ears anyway. She offered the last of her cigarette to Suguru, but he waved her off. Guess his throat was sore. She quickly ashed it on her sole and flung it over the tree line, technically off Iori property, before reaching up and laying her hand on his chest. His throat and lungs were healed immediately.

When she was done, he caught her before she could take a step back. “Do you want someone to go with you?”

She liked that he hadn’t offered himself because the first person she thought of bringing was Utahime, but as much as she loved Utahime, Uta would want to talk to her about her feelings the whole time. Utahime was so mature (unless Gojo was involved), but sometimes Shoko didn’t want to process things right away. She wanted to linger on them, maybe push them away and come back, or just never think about them again.

The next two people she thought about were Maki and Mai. They were so close to her now, but the thought was immediately nixed. They were too young to be brought to a prison, and they didn’t need to know about what had happened to her when she was little. As much as they had gone through, they didn’t need the added horrors. She wanted to spare them of that until they were old enough to not be traumatized by it.

That being said, she didn’t want to go alone now that she thought about it. She hadn’t seen her dad in … years. She didn’t know if she could even face him despite this feeling of needing to. She’d only gotten a taste of being a parent, yet she could never imagine herself ever doing to the twins what he did to her.

She wanted to know why her dad could.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment. Her eyes dropped to his lips for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Come with me.”

His hand came up to cup her face. “You know I always will.” Then he leaned in and kissed her.

Shoko’s heart leapt in her chest, and her eyes widened before fluttering shut. His lips were cold, his tongue was hot as it swiped against her mouth. Tingles raced down her body, settling low in her belly as her nerves came alive. She gripped his jacket to bring him closer, and he responded by grabbing her around the hips and pulling her flush against him. A moan slipped out from between her lips, and she pulled back with a gasp.

She watched him through a daze as he licked his lips. His fingers felt like a brand through her clothes, and her heart was beating so hard against her chest she wondered if he could hear it.

“Where’d you learn to kiss like that?” she heard herself ask breathlessly. She still hadn’t let him go. Her head was swimming and her legs felt like jelly.

His grin was smug. “I’m not one to kiss and tell.”

She raised an eyebrow at this. “The first thing you’re going to do when it’s just you and Gojo is tell him you knocked my socks off with just a kiss.”

His grin only widened. “I knocked your socks off?”

Shoko kept her face neutral as she looked down and scrunched her toes in her boots. “Oh, guess not. Looks like you’ll have to—”

Getou’s mouth covered her own before she could finish, and she sighed into the kiss. When they pulled back much later, breathless and laughing with teen-like giddiness, they realized something.

It had started snowing.

Chapter Text

“Shoko!” Utahime cried as she jumped into the woman’s arms. Shoko, having expected this, accepted her full weight with a soft laugh. Utahime’s hugs were as warm as ever, even amidst freezing Hokkaido temperatures.

The taxi driver honked, and Utahime scrambled back with a blush and a nervous laugh. The two of them worked together to get her bags out of the trunk before quickly hurrying inside the main house.

“Is mama inside?” she whispered as she set down her stuff to shuck off her boots.

“Yeah, I got the girls to distract her with making them some treats. Satoru helped too.”

Utahime rolled her eyes. “That’s because he’s nothing more than a big child himself.”

“Shoko, was that a car just now?” Chiyo called from the main room where the brick stoves were working overtime to keep the home warm. Traditional Japanese kitchens were a little too rustic for Shoko’s tastes, but she could admit they at least didn’t rack up a heating bill when you used them.

Shoko smiled as Utahime shushed her and watched as the woman—older than her by at least a year—tip-toed across the hall until she peeked around the wall.

And she called Satoru a child.

Then she jumped out in full view, shouting, “Mama!”

“Utahime!?” Chiyo gasped, and Shoko heard a clatter of kitchen utensils as the older woman rushed into the hall and collided with her daughter. They were so much alike. Watching them laugh as they embraced stirred up something in her, though, and she found herself looking away until the two separated.

“What are you doing here? What about your classes?”

“My professor let us off until the 8th!”

Chiyo’s eyes widened. “Are you going to be staying here until then?”

Uta faltered and peered over her shoulder at Shoko. The plan was to leave early on the 31st.

Just as Shoko was about to open her mouth, Satoru stepped into the hall. “Of course she is! Someone’s gotta watch the twerps while the adults are out working.”

Utahime’s face flared red, and Chiyo managed to hold her daughter back as she launched into a tirade. “I’m not your personal babysitter, Gojo! I’ve already watched all six of them once! And who are you talking about when you say adults!? I’m older than you, you know!”

Satoru took the screaming in stride and aimed a sweet, condescending smile down at his senpai. “Yeah, but the kids love you! And you promised you’d stay out of it if I told you what was going on.” His smile remained, but his eyes were serious as they bored into her.

She crossed her arms, unperturbed by his stare unlike so many others. “You can’t expect me to stay out of this after finding out about the higher ups.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what I expect. You’re staying here, Utahime.”

Her glare darkened. “You’re not my boss, Gojo, so back off! If Shoko gets to come along, then I’m going too! I have actual experience on the battlefield—” she shot a look over to Shoko, “—no offense.”

Shoko shrugged, not wanting to be brought into their fight.

“Shoko’s a healer, and she’s the one the higher ups will do anything to keep alive.”

But Utahime was more stubborn than a mule. “I’m going, Gojo! Even if that means I use my own money to get there!”

“Then I’ll just teleport you back here.”

“You won’t leave the battlefield just for me!”

“I’d do anything for you!”

Utahime’s words died on her tongue as her eyes widened. Chiyo, having stood between the two of them the whole time, looked back and forth at them both with a serene, thoughtful expression.

“I didn’t know you two were together.”

Satoru and Uta both jumped back and looked at the woman as if she were crazy.

“We’re not—!”

“Mom! Why would you think that!”

Chiyo sighed and threw her hands up. “I’m just saying, the two of you should stop delaying the inevitable already. Your father and I have been lonely ever since your little brother left. We would like some grandchildren before we’re too much older.”

“Mom!” Utahime cried. She was about three shades redder than was probably healthy.

Chiyo sighed again and started walking back into the main room. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop. For now.”

Shoko snorted and finally moved from the door, skirting past the bashful-looking Satoru and mortified Uta.

Well, someone had to say it.

Utahime was the missing puzzle piece they had all needed to feel whole. Tsumiki—and even Megumi—gravitated toward her. Getou teased her, and Gojo would childishly pick on her like the mean boy on the playground with a crush. She would hide behind Shoko while spouting children-friendly profanities (that were more creatively hilarious than they were effective), and Shoko would laugh as she fended off the men with the sharp ends of her chopsticks.

With all of them moved back into the guest home (that was really only supposed to accommodate Shoko and the twins), it was truly a full house. Even the massive kotatsu was almost not big enough with them all surrounding it for dinner.

“I helped make your shogayaki with Utahime the other day!” Tsumiki proudly declared after they had all loudly exclaimed their thanks for the food. Tonight was Ishikari nabe. It was a hearty, hot pot meal with miso broth topped with fresh salmon, winter vegetables, and tofu.

“That so?” Shoko gave her an impressed look as she picked out her shiitake mushrooms and plopped them in Mimiko’s bowl. The eight year old gave her an offended look and hastily scooped them out with her soup spoon and dumped them in Nanako’s bowl. Nanako, in turn, did the same thing to Getou. He grimaced at them and scooped them out as well. They traveled around the table until they ended up in Megumi’s bowl. He sighed but ate them anyway.

“Mm-hmm,” Tsumiki hummed, mouth full of the warm broth.

“I can’t believe you taught her how to make that,” Utahime chimed in. She was squished between Gojo and Tsumiki and kept leaning into Tsumiki’s space to get away from Gojo who would purposely brush against her every time he moved. She glared at him when he did it when reaching for his cup, and he aimed her an innocent look.

Shoko shrugged and opened her mouth for Maki’s tofu. The girl wasn’t fond of it. “It was the first night we spent at the Fushiguros, and they had nothing to eat.”

“It wasn’t as good as yours,” Tsumiki continued with a sheepish look.

Utahime patted her hand gently. “You tried your best, sweetie. Everyone liked it!”

“Yeah, it was good!” Mimiko said around a mouthful of potatoes. At Getou’s sharp glare, she quickly shut her mouth and covered it with her hand. “What?” she cried after she swallowed. “Gojo talks with food in his mouth!”

“Don’t follow Gojo’s example,” Uta instructed with a flat look. “The man’s a wild animal.”

“That is blatant defam—!”

“Don’t even,” she snapped and leveled him with a glare. His pout went ignored.

Later that evening, when the servants had cleared away all the dishes, Gojo and Getou took a walk. Shoko had met Getou’s gaze right before they’d left. Tomorrow was their last day here in Hokkaido, so plans had to be gone over again and again until the last detail was covered. When she’d asked why they were being so obsessive—if they perhaps knew something they weren’t telling her—a shadow had passed over Suguru’s features, and he’d looked out to some faraway place she couldn’t follow.

“We just don’t want this to end up like it did with Riko.”

Now it was just Utahime and her sipping lemon lagers in the hot springs. The springs were out in the open but were plenty private with the impenetrable wall of thick, bamboo forest surrounding them. Smooth, natural rocks jutted up and out of the steaming water, perfect for lounging back against. It wasn’t snowing, but it was still pretty with the soft glow of stone lanterns reflecting off the steamy water. What snow did remain around the property was twice as deep as it had been when they’d first arrived. And to think, it wasn’t even November yet.

“So, what’s with you and Getou?” Utahime asked as she finished off her bottle. With a clink, she set it down on the rock ledge and grabbed a second one.

Shoko couldn’t help the smile that lazily stretched across her face. “What do you mean?”

Uta kicked some water at her. “Don’t play coy with me. I saw the looks you two have been giving each other.”

Shoko chuckled, though she didn’t bother opening up her eyes. “That’s not all we’ve been giving each other.”

“Ew! Gross!”

“You asked.”

“I didn’t ask for that. TMI, Shoko!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Uta. We just kissed.” Though the kisses were wild, long and drawn out, and left her breathless every time. But she wasn’t rushing for the bedroom just yet. She wanted to savor this as long as she could.

“So, are you guys … like …?”

Shoko finally opened her eyes, but she looked up to the dark, cloudy skies. Surely it wouldn’t snow again, would it? “I don’t know. I like him. He clearly likes me back. It’s weird. He was such a dork in high school.”

“He still is,” Uta grumbled.

“Yeah, but now he’s a hot dork who knows how to kiss like a—”

“Shoko!” she cried dramatically as Shoko snickered. She sighed after a moment and fell silent. It was obvious she still had more to say, but she just didn’t know how to say it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Shoko said after a while and sat up. She finished off her lager and set it to the side. “But he’s different now. It took him long enough, and Satoru had to get involved and nearly kill him in the process, but Suguru’s no longer so against non-sorcerers. He doesn’t want to kill anyone anymore.”

Utahime scratched at a rock next to her, eyes diverted. “But what about all those people he did kill?”

Shoko hummed and twisted off the cap of another lager. This one was white peach. “It’s a long story, but the short of it is that the village was one of the bases for the human experimentation projects. That’s where he found Mimiko and Nanako.”

She looked up to find Utahime’s wide eyes. “They were …?”

“Yeah.”

Utahime’s hand rested against her heart, and she looked away. “Those poor babies.”

“Headquarters was in on it, so they canned him. He still believed we were better off without any non-sorcerers, so he left.”

“You think all the higher ups are in on it?”

“We’re going to find out.” Her head lolled to the side, and she peered over at her friend. “You really planning on coming?”

Utahime looked affronted by that question. “Why wouldn’t I? I put my faith in Jujutsu Headquarters just like every sorcerer does, and to know that they’re behind something this ghastly—I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did nothing. I may not have the best offensive techniques, but I can handle my own on the battlefield.”

“You don’t have to convince me. You’re a better fighter than I am. It’s just getting Gojo to agree that’ll be difficult.”

She scoffed. “Like I care what he says. I’m Grade 2 now!”

“I remember. We celebrated by going out to karaoke.”

Utahime drained the rest of her beer and set it aside. She swam over and settled down next to Shoko, sitting back against the same hot rock with a relaxed sigh. “That’s right. We took Mei Mei and that one girl with us—what was her name?”

Shoko’s eyes drifted to the water rippling around her. “Fujiwara Kumiko.”

“Yeah! God, she sounded like a dying cat when she sang. I think I passed out from laughing so hard. How’s she doing? Have you heard from her lately?”

Shoko finally met Uta’s gaze, but she didn’t say anything. Utahime’s smile slowly fell away as realization dawned on her.

“She—Is she …?”

Shoko nodded slowly. “The night I tried to call you.”

“Oh.” Utahime swallowed and slowly leaned back. She tried to act accepting of this information, but Shoko could see the pain in her eyes.

“We could lose someone else in a few days,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ll be there to try and stop that, but there’s no guarantee.”

“There never is.”

“Gojo’s just worried about you, you know.”

Uta sighed and peered up at the night sky, though Shoko doubted she was really staring at the clouds above. “I know. He said … he said I was a weakness of his.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Probably his biggest one.”

“Shut up. Suguru’s his biggest weakness. We figured that out when he left.”

“Maybe at one point he was, but Satoru had to move on eventually. He bounced back pretty fast. And now that Suguru’s back … you’re the only one he feels he needs to protect.”

Uta met her gaze head on. “Are you telling me to stay behind? Because I won’t.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m just telling you to be careful. You’re not just important to him. You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do if you died.”

A seriousness entered Utahime’s kind, dark eyes. “You’d live on. You’re not just living for yourself anymore. You don’t get to stop just because I die. Maki and Mai are depending on you, so you have to keep going no matter what.”

Shoko’s heart squeezed in her chest, but she played it off with a soft smile. “Just don’t die and I won’t have to worry about that.”

Utahime crossed her arms over her chest and gave her a smug grin. “As if I’d be killed off that easily. Gojo’s just going to have to kiss my ass because I’m coming with!”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d love to.”

“Shoko!”

Shoko gently pushed Maki’s bangs away from her face as the girl slept. The twins had valiantly tried to stay up as long as possible to spend as much time with Shoko as they could, but a routine bedtime over the last couple weeks had made it nearly impossible to fight against the sleep that tugged at their eyelids.

The days at the Iori family estate had finally come to an end. It was bittersweet in a way. She’d miss hanging out around the large kotatsu with everyone while sharing meals and stories that made everyone laugh. The falling snow, the cold hands under the covers, the hot food, the late nights under the stars, the secret kisses with Getou … they were the little things she would always remember and cherish.

Maybe Mai had been right after all. Despite the stay not being permanent, Shoko felt as if she’d truly gotten to live while here. Maybe this was a home to her now.

It made her think about a future home. What memories would she make with the girls? Between birthdays, the holidays, and all the major milestones in their lives, it was almost overwhelming to know she would be there through it all. Her own birthday was in a week. She was going to be 21.

She just had to live through tomorrow first.

Her fingers pulled away from Maki. Gojo and Getou had poured hours into the plan. Yaga would be there, as well as Mei Mei, Nanami, Utahime, and apparently Larue. Hell, Special Grade Tsukumo Yuki was going to be there. Whoever Higuruma Hiromi was, he was going to be there judging the higher ups. If he had gotten Getou’s attention, he had to be strong. Then there was the entire Gojo Clan on standby to politically wreck headquarters. Not to mention Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru would be there, in the flesh, along with the thousands of curses in Suguru’s arsenal.

So, why? Why did she have this horrible feeling?

As she settled into bed behind the girls, her arm drifted over them. In their sleep, they turned over and shuffled closer to her, and her head rested against the crown of Mai’s head. She didn’t want to lose anyone. Not after all that she’d gone through. She finally felt whole. She finally felt alive.

She closed her eyes, and for the first time in her life, she prayed. When she opened them next, it was to the sound of her alarm going off.

Time to go.

Chapter Text

With the Gojo Amex Black Card, the entire hotel was rented out. This should have been an impossibility, but nothing was impossible with clan money—but also Gojo had made the preparations a week in advance.

“Aren’t you worried the higher ups will catch wind of this?” Shoko asked as she took in their surroundings. The lobby had an almost ‘70s vibe to it, but in a high class sort of way. There was apparently a restaurant, a bar and lounge, and even a ballroom here at the hotel too.

“I’ve never been a man who hides,” Satoru said as he stepped away from the front desk. He waved off the clerk as he turned to face them all. “I know how to get into headquarters, so they’ve been preparing for our arrival since they ordered my execution.” He grinned suddenly. “How nice am I to give them a warning that I'm coming?”

“Yes, we’re all aware of how generous you can be,” Utahime grumbled, clearly making a jab at how he had finally conceded and “allowed” her to come.

Thinly veiled anger flickered in his eyes as he smiled big. “Hime-chan, you understand me!”

“Unfortunately.”

Suguru chuckled and grabbed Shoko’s hand, pulling her in the direction of the stairs as they all shuffled up to the room. They didn’t have any belongings with them, and the kids had all been left behind at the Iori Estate. Everyone they had enlisted the aid of would trickle into the hotel as the day passed, but before then, Shoko was going to try and take a nap. She wasn’t a vital part of their combat strategies. They would tell her what to do, and she’d heal anyone who needed it. Simple as that. However, she needed plenty of rest if she wanted to be on top of her game.

Satoru chose the Castleside Deluxe Double Room (non-smoking, the bastard) as their base. It offered a perfect view of the castle over the tree line, and Shoko marveled at how there was supposedly a veil surrounding the huge building. She could see curses just fine. She could see veils without issue. Even domain expansions were visible to her. She could not, however, see the curtain that hid the real Nagoya castle from the public. Only the imitation that had experienced countless insurrections, reconstructions, passed through the hands of many people—including Oda Nobunaga—as well as faced earthquakes and bombings.

All this information had come from Utahime who had decided to talk about the entire history of Nagoya Castle the whole flight from Chitose to Chubu Centrair International. Shoko, half-asleep after having had to wake up at 4 AM, made plenty of non-committal noises to keep Utahime going even as she drooled against Getou’s shoulder.

She flopped down onto the king-sized bed and sighed. Suguru perched on the end of it, and she rolled over until she was close enough to prop her head up in his lap. Gojo took the small sofa by the window, Utahime one of the chairs opposite him. With Suguru’s fingers in her hair and soft conversations already rolling, sleep found Shoko within moments.

Iori Chiyo sipped daintily from her cylindrical tea cup and eyed all six children over the rim. She sat at the head of the guest home kotatsu where they had all congregated, somberly picking at their food. No one spoke or even looked up from their plates.

She sighed and set down her cup. They had been like this all morning. She’d practically had to drag them out of their beds, but at least once they were out they’d started moving. Without any correspondence to one another, they had all met up at the guest house Shoko and the Zenin twins had been staying at. They each took their seats and waited for breakfast wordlessly.

“Come now,” she chided softly, gaining their attention. “They’ll be back within a few days at the most. Are you going to act like this until they return?”

“Yes,” Mimiko said with a petulant pout.

“Yes,” Nanako echoed.

“Yeah,” Mai sighed and slumped over onto the table.

“I already miss them,” Tsumiki said softly, picking at her breakfast with her chopsticks.

Chiyo closed her eyes against her frustration—not at the children, bless them—but at her own helplessness. She couldn’t do any more for them than she could for herself. Her mind kept wandering to her daughter, and she worried for her. Oh, how she worried. Utahime was so strong, but she was the only baby girl born of seven children. She had to grow up with the responsibilities of the shrine on her shoulders. All her brothers were either managers for the Kyoto Jujutsu school or studying abroad.

She would have to put her faith in Gojo Satoru to keep her daughter safe.

Ah, these depressing thoughts. She needed a distraction just as much as these children did.

“Why don’t we go enjoy the hot springs?” she offered, gaze flitting to each child to see their reaction. They only seemed to wilt further.

“Don’t wanna,” Maki sighed.

“Me either,” Nanako huffed.

Chiyo’s lips pursed as she thought. “How about we go shopping? The boutiques have some sales going—”

The children all groaned. Megumi rolled over under the kotatsu blanket and sighed. His gaming device had died and there was no way to charge it unless they went into town. Despite that, he didn’t seem keen on the idea either.

She was drawing blanks. “Well, what about you guys play in the snow? You could build a fort?”

“We already did that,” Mimiko complained.

“Too cold,” Maki grumbled.

Before one more child could shoot down yet another idea, the shoji panel was thrown open. On the other side, Jiro stood frowning with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oi,” he barked, and the deep sound had every child jumping to attention. “Look at you all lazing about! The shrine needs tending to, wood needs chopping, and water needs fetching.” He clapped his hands several times, and the children hesitantly looked at one another before getting up from the kotatsu.

Chiyo’s jaw dropped, which she hastily covered up with her sleeve and collected herself before speaking next. “Jiro, dear,” she tried to calm him, “they’re guests—”

“They’re freeloaders,” he snapped, and she sat back with a quiet sigh. Once his mind was made up, there was no convincing him otherwise. Like father, like daughter. “C’mon, all of you! You’ll learn what it means to earn your keep. Then, when you’re exhausted and ready to drop, we’re going to train until the sun goes down!”

The children went from looking uncomfortable to curious in seconds. “Train?” Megumi asked, speaking up for the first time that morning.

Maki’s eyes had widened. “What kind of training?”

Jiro gestured wordlessly for them to line up outside. In the courtyard, several servants were already waiting. Some ladies from the shrine gathered Tsumiki, Mimiko, and Mai and herded them off to change into their temporary miko uniforms. Nanako and Maki were given buckets and led off to the stream nearby, and Megumi was given a small ax by the family woodcutter. Within moments, the courtyard was cleared except for Jiro who stood there with a stern expression on his face.

“Jiro,” she said softly as she settled on the engawa. “What on earth—”

“Iori-sama,” a servant interrupted, kneeling quickly down beside her. “You have a visitor requesting audience with you.”

Curious, she nodded and waved them away. She turned back to her husband. “Jiro, what do you have to say for yourself? Those poor babies are so worried about what’s going on.”

Jiro turned toward her, and his dark brown eyes softened. “I know that,” he said in his deep voice she so loved. “It’s why I did what I did.”

She tilted her head, silently asking him to elaborate.

“An idle mind is a dangerous thing. You saw them yourself. Sitting around moping won’t do them any good.” He waved about in dissatisfaction, his brow pinched. “This way, they’ll be so distracted with chores, they won’t have time to come up with horrible scenarios, and this will teach them some real-world skills they surely won’t learn in their modern world.”

If possible, Chiyo’s heart would have melted right out of her body. “Oh, Jiro, dear, you’re the sweetest! Still the same man I married twenty-seven years ago!”

He turned away but not before she saw his cheeks flare with color. “Of course I am.”

She giggled, but she was soon distracted by the guest that walked around the corner. Her smile vanished, and she slowly stood to her feet. She leaned forward with a deep, formal bow. As she slowly rose, she offered a soft smile that belied the uneasiness in her soul.

“Principal Gakuganji Yoshinobu, pleased to make your acquaintance at last.”

“I had heard your health was ailing you,” she said later as they sat across from one another in the tea house overlooking the frozen garden. She’d had the servants break out her expensive gyokuro tea leaves for such a meeting. “I am, however, relieved to know you are as spry as you were twenty years ago. Journeying up to Hokkaido couldn’t have been such an easy trek.”

Gakuganji merely nodded his head and accepted the cup the servant offered him. He slowly inhaled its fresh, grassy scent before savoring a small sip. He sighed as he set it down on the table. He approved, though you wouldn’t know it.

“When will your husband be joining us?”

Chiyo ignored the slight against her as she calmly sipped her own tea. “I am the head of the Iori Clan. I see no need for my husband to be here.”

Rather than protest, Gakuganji hummed in acknowledgment. “It is probably for the best. The less ears that hear this, the better.”

At the meeting of their gazes, Chiyo subtly tilted her head, looked away, and sniffed softly. The servants filtered out of the tea house immediately.

When the only sounds were the whistling wind and the bamboo spout thunking against a rock as it filled up with frigid water, Gakuganji finally spoke. “Your daughter called me the other day.”

“Did she?”

They eyed each other once more.

“I know full well you are aware of what they’re planning.”

Her gaze never wavered. “Who are you referring to?” When he didn’t speak right away, she added, “Gojo and Getou … or the higher ups?”

He harrumphed and looked away, and she hid her triumphant smile behind her tea cup. “Do you know what she said to me?” he asked, referring back to the previous topic.

“I do not.”

“She said she, Gojo, Getou, and Ieiri are going up against the higher ups on account of some Zenin children. She had the audacity to tell me if I wasn’t with them, I was against them, and that she would never teach under me if I refused to take part in this ridiculous plan of theirs.”

Utahime had never excelled in the realm of politics. She told it how it was and didn’t care if it hurt. She was just like her father in that regard.

“And what is your response to this ‘ridiculous’ plan, Principal Gakuganji?”

Gakuganji huffed as if the question was ludicrous. He turned his head and peered out the open shoji. The tall evergreens were the only source of color in the otherwise white landscape, and even their branches were frosted over in thousands of crystals. The curved bridges, stone lanterns, and zigzag paths to ward off and confuse small curses were buried under the recent snow flurries.

It was so peaceful. Yet the sun was out, and the snow would melt if there were no more snow storms passing through. She would enjoy the crisp, cold air while it lasted.

“Do you know how Jujutsu Headquarters was formed?” Gakuganji asked after a long, quiet moment.

She was well aware, but that was not what was important. She remained silent.

“During the Heian era, jujutsu society was lawless. It was everyone for themselves. Sorcerers were not prohibited from keeping their abilities a secret. Death and violence were a common occurrence, and this is where Ryomen Sukuna thrived. The King of Curses was a name given to him, one of the most powerful sorcerers of all time. Entire villages worshipped him like a god, and that was what he inevitably became.”

Chiyo listened without interruption as he retold the tale every child grew up hearing. Naughty children were told Sukuna would snatch them up and eat them if they didn’t behave as their wickedness was delicious to the King of Curses.

“For the first time in history, jujutsu sorcerers hailing from different clans worked together to defeat him. They would later be organized by Emperor Kammu as the first Jujutsu Headquarters.” He finally looked back to her, and their gazes met once more. “Their historic battle decimated entire prefectures. It is now regaled as a cautionary tale of the dangers unchecked strength and power could pose.”

“‘Unchecked strength and power,’” she murmured as she sipped her tea.

“They fear Gojo Satoru,” he said after another contemplative moment. “They cannot control him. He is brash, reckless, and a cocky brat. He purposefully antagonizes those around him and ignores the traditional values of respecting one's elders. Special Grade sorcerers such as himself and Getou Suguru could bring the entire world to its knees. In comparison, the death of a few children seems inconsequential.”

“You agree with the higher ups’ decisions, I take it?”

Gakuganji sipped his tea. He was in no rush to answer her, and she refrained from goading a response out of him. They both savored the stillness as the quiet lingered.

“Regardless if I agree with their decisions,” he eventually said, “or understand their motives, they have pushed their enemy too far. All of the jujutsu lieutenants, as well as the commander, will be replaced once this is all over. The Zenin Clan has been eradicated. A new clan will vie for power and attempt to curry favor with the prime minister when he makes his selections for the new council.”

Chiyo raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “You sound confident Gojo will be able to pull off this battle against the higher ups.”

Gakuganji’s expression turned grave. “It will not be a bloodless war. Including the higher ups responsible for the human experimentation projects, many sorcerers will die.”

Her lips thinned. She had found out through her daughter about the higher ups’ involvement in human experimentation, but she never uttered a word of this to Gakuganji. He had most likely known since the beginning, and there was no use in him hiding his knowledge of it any further.

“Why have you come to see me?” she finally asked.

One eye slowly opened, and he leveled her with an intense look. Chills swept up her body, but her face remained neutral. “I would like to offer you a proposition.”

She tilted her head, indicating she was listening.

“When Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru lay siege to Nagoya Castle and ultimately defeat the higher ups, news of this will immediately spread to the prime minister. Their unlawful actions, if released to the general population, would reflect badly on him and all of Japan. He will want to cover up this scandal at all costs, and he will no doubt do anything to appease those responsible for bringing the situation to light.”

She remained silent as she nodded along to his words.

“I have long lived my life upholding the values of tradition under Jujutsu Headquarters’ will. I hail from none of the Big Three Sorcerer Families, but I will see to it that I rise above them all. My goal is to become not just a potential candidate for the new council—I will see to it I become the next Jujutsu Commander.”

My, my, what lofty goals.

“And how do you plan to achieve this?”

“You have your daughter’s ear in all things. She has stated this herself many times. Your approval means everything to her.”

Chiyo’s eyes narrowed. “I would advise caution against speaking so freely about my daughter, Principal Gakuganji.”

The old sorcerer looked unperturbed. “You have her ear, and she is one of the few sorcerers alive to have Gojo Satoru’s ear. When Prime Minister Kan comes calling, Gojo will need to convince him I am the person necessary for the position.”

She sighed. “I can convince Utahime until my lips are bruised, but how do you expect her to convince Gojo when he dislikes you so?”

Gakuganji pulled out a handful of documents from the hidden breast pocket in his robes. They landed on the table with a thud. Pictures, hundreds of them, spread out across the surface along with detailed records. “Because I can provide better evidence against the higher ups than whatever Gojo and Getou have on them.”

“How did you …?”

“I have worked under Jujutsu Headquarters for decades.”

She wouldn’t get anything more out of him. An old man’s secrets were sacred. She eyed the documents on the table and held back another sigh. Righting herself with poise, she switched tactics.

“What will you do for the Ioris in return?”

“Besides handing over these records, I will ensure your daughter obtains a position at the Kyoto school. It is not purely my decision in my current position whether or not she is accepted as a teacher. The higher ups have the final say on who teaches the next generation of sorcerers.”

Chiyo nodded at this information. It was Utahime’s dream to become a teacher, but surely her daughter could get there on her own merits? And what would jujutsu society even look like with Gakuganji as the commander? But then there were the files spread across her table to consider. They were extremely incriminating just from the glances she had given them, but Higuruma’s Judgeman could potentially detect who was involved without this evidence.

She was silent as she continued to weigh her options but looked up when Gakuganji leaned forward.

“And,” he continued in a low voice, “I can ensure she will never reach Grade 1.”

Chiyo’s heart clenched. The status of Grade 1 came with more money and more respect among one’s peers, yet it also carried the weight of being able to go up against Grade 1 curses.

Utahime was strong. She was so, so strong … but she was still Chiyo’s only baby girl. A powerful curse in the mountains both she and Jiro had had to exorcise had taken out a Semi-Grade 1 sorcerer not too long ago. Chiyo had found her first. The girl’s long, dark hair and pale face had sent ice flooding through her veins until she had realized it wasn’t Utahime lying on the ground. She had contacted the Tokyo school immediately, and she’d heard later how the poor girl had died from her injuries.

That could be Utahime one day.

She hesitated for only a moment. Closing her eyes, she strengthened her resolve as she gave her answer.

“I accept.”

Chapter Text

As the setting sun sank further in the sky, jujutsu society’s strongest gathered under its golden light. The castle-side room was crowded with sorcerers despite the entire hotel having been vacated. Still, it was too risky to divulge their objectives out in the public spaces on the off chance an employee could hear them—someone who could be undercover for the higher ups. Suguru already had plenty of surveillance curses crawling all over the hallway walls and ceiling.

Shoko believed Satoru would be in charge the entire time, but Yaga took over as soon as he arrived on the scene. The first thing he did was order Satoru to fill everyone in who hadn’t managed to stay in the loop over the last week. Gojo spared no details with the others as he retold all that he, Shoko, and Getou had learned in the past month. He was pragmatic and cold throughout it all. None of his usual jovialness came into play, and it left everyone disquieted.

Nanami leaned against one of the walls, round spectacles hiding his eyes. He sighed when the silence became suffocating, and it was like a clap of thunder in the still room. “I have never particularly agreed with some of the higher ups’ decisions, but I have always respected their rules and understood regulations must be kept in place to maintain order.” His anger was subtle, but Shoko watched his clasped hands squeeze together. His jaw was tight as he continued. “To think that after all these years, I have been serving a system perpetuating the very cruelty we seek to destroy.”

Yuki had closed her eyes halfway through Gojo’s recount, and her jaw was clenched. Utahime, having already heard most of it, still looked sick to her stomach. Mei Mei gazed silently out the window, eyes cast in the direction of the castle. Hiromi also had a neutral expression on his face, but his mouth was set in a firm line. Larue—the absolute mammoth of a man—looked close to tears as he hid his expression behind his giant hand. Yaga, however, was shaking with fury.

“Those BASTARDS!” he shouted and slammed his fist into the floor where he was sitting.

“Not that I don’t believe you,” Mei Mei said in a level-headed tone, “but the proof you have—will it be enough?”

Hiromi grunted. “It’s sufficient, though I don’t know if it’s enough to incriminate every culprit. Not unless they start ratting each other out. Typically, suspects become desperate once the scales start tipping against them. A person’s truly their ugliest when backed into a corner.”

Getou sighed, and Shoko subtly pinched his sleeve in silent comfort. Getou’s minions must have worked themselves into an early grave just trying to obtain what evidence they had—and it was a lot. It was everything they needed to incriminate Ogawa Akio, but was The Laughing Fox working alone? Probably not. If he didn’t speak out against the other higher ups, could Hiromi’s Judgeman really root out the other culprits?

She found herself sighing as well. Gojo wasn’t one to go in without a plan—even if it seemed like it to others. His mind worked faster than anyone else’s. His brain functioned at such a high processing speed that when it burned itself out, his RCT would kick in just to heal himself so he could keep going. So, she was confident they’d figure out who was to blame at the end of all this.

Satoru cocked his head to the side. “Do what you can to weasel them out. Worst comes to worst, I’ve got a trump card up my sleeve, though I’d rather not use it.”

Yaga snapped his gaze in his former student’s direction. “What trump card are you talking about?”

Satoru stuck his tongue out. “Not telling.”

“Why you—!”

He danced out of Yaga’s reach with an obnoxious laugh, and the mood in the room shifted into something lighter. The weight of the upcoming mission still hung heavy on their minds, but the small reprieve from the stress was nice.

That terrible feeling Shoko had felt last night, however, continued to linger.

The streets were silent and empty save for the few, ignorant souls who couldn’t feel the stifling tension mounting in the city. Yet even those unknowledgeable of the jujutsu world scurried out of sight as ten, shadowy figures closed in on Nagoya Castle.

Except, it was not Nagoya Castle they approached, but a black veil that had been lowered over the structure at some point in the night. Normal people couldn’t see it, yet it may have explained the reason for the lonely streets. If they couldn’t walk through it under the conditions the caster set, the mind would subconsciously redirect them away from it.

“Did they really think a simple barrier would be enough to keep us out?” Mei Mei murmured from the side.

Satoru was frowning as he approached the opaque dome. His fingers grazed over the surface, and a spark ignited that blasted his hand away. A heavy silence blanketed the small crowd as everyone took in what just happened. Gojo Satoru—the strongest sorcerer alive—had just been stopped from going any further.

Yaga hummed in that deep voice of his. “So, it keeps even the likes of you out?”

“Hey,” Utahime suddenly spoke, and everyone looked over and found her arm deep inside the barrier, sleeve pushed back and out of the way. “Why am I allowed in, but you’re not?”

Mei Mei was quick to reach out, and sure enough, her arm sank through the inky blackness.

“Guess it’s just an anti-Gojo domain,” Yaga said as his own hand seeped through. “That must be the condition they set in order to allow everyone else through.”

Shoko frowned. “Makes sense. He’s one of the few who know how to get into the real Nagoya Castle.”

Yaga harrumphed loudly. “He’s not the only one.”

“Before we go storming the castle, let’s see what they’re hiding from us first,” Mei Mei drawled in her sultry voice. “I do hate surprises.”

She uttered the phrase that activated her technique, Black Bird Manipulation. Crows emerged from the skies, cawing out in response as they plummeted through the air and dove through the veil. Mei Mei’s gaze glazed over, and she was silent as she shared her vision. After but a moment, she whistled lowly.

“They’ve got the place surrounded,” she said when her vision returned to her. Her smile betrayed her eager anticipation. “From the looks of it, the higher ups have called in the Hakari Clan. The Hei are also present.”

The Hakari Clan, if they were to be ranked in terms of strength, would be listed right under the Big Three Sorcerer Families. Yaga cursed and Nanami sighed. Overtime had already kicked in for the Grade 1 sorcerer, but he had still hoped to end this with as little bloodshed as possible.

“They’re no doubt doing this for political reasons now that the Zenins have been wiped out,” Yaga sneered. “With Satoru out of the picture, they think they have a chance against us.”

“Wow, that sucks, Satoru,” Yuki snickered. “Looks like everyone was invited to the party but you! Have fun out here by yours—ow!” She yanked her hand back as the same electric current struck her offending digits.

Getou looked back and forth between Yuki and Satoru before he immediately reached out, and the same energy blasted his hand away. “It’s not an anti-Gojo domain,” he concluded as he shook the pain off. “It’s anti-Special Grade.”

Yuki frowned, and her attitude shifted into something serious. “Which means that includes your curses. They’ll be going in without much back up until we find a way to break through.”

“Not necessarily,” he stated, head tipped back as he examined the dome. “If the barrier is truly only anti-Special Grade, then any of my curses under that rank should be able to pass through.”

“Only one way to find out,” Satoru said and stepped back as Getou summoned a pudgy cat curse. It looked about as non-threatening as a real cat. They all watched as it neared the barrier before slowly sticking its head straight through. Everyone sighed.

Utahime cleared her throat. “Now what? They’re already planning a counterattack. Do we unleash Night Parade?”

Getou sighed and shook his head. “That was mainly supposed to be for the higher ups. We would be no better than them if we mindlessly killed everyone within the veil. I can control my curses to hold back their strength well enough, but trying to do so while blind is going to be a bit difficult. Besides, I think everyone here is strong enough to take out the enemy without my curses.” His smile was suddenly condescending. “At least, I would hope so.”

Yaga flung an arm around Suguru’s neck and pulled him into an effortless chokehold. “Listen here, you little brat! Don’t go disrespecting us just because you’re a rank above, and don’t you forget I’m the one who taught you everything you know! Of course we can handle our own!”

Suguru patted Yaga’s arm and choked out, “My apologies.”

“I didn’t expect to hear such wise words from you, Getou,” Mei Mei said lightly with a sly smile. “You’ve certainly changed.”

Suguru rubbed at the back of his neck after Yaga released him. “I haven’t so much as changed as I’ve come back to my senses.” He eyed Shoko suddenly. “As someone once told me, I’ve always needed my ideals to live. I’m just glad they’re not so skewed anymore.”

“Fair enough,” she hummed. “Now, shall we?”

Suguru nodded and recalled the cat curse before summoning the beastly woman curse Shikome, several reptilian and amphibian-looking surveillance curses, a disfigured and disheveled schoolgirl hunched over in her uniform with bloodied hands, and finally, a monstrous curse that towered above even Larue. It had the body of a man with the head of a cow. The cow’s mouth was too wide and split up the side of its face with too many teeth. It carried a large, iron cow brand infused with cursed energy.

He gently grabbed Shoko’s shoulders. “There’s not going to be a medical bay for you to set up in there. It’s going to be everyone for themselves. These will act as your shadows and keep you from getting hurt.” A Grade 2 suddenly spawned and wrapped its black, murky, latex body around her arm like a snake. It would blow up like a bubble around her body as a shield at the last second if necessary.

She peered down at her arm with a neutral expression before meeting his gaze. “What an interesting way to say ‘I love you.’”

Suguru’s jaw dropped, and the rest of the sorcerers stilled in shock.

“I—That’s not—”

A smile finally broke across her face. “See you guys on the other side. Don’t take too long.” With a wave, she slipped through the veil, and the curses followed after her. Without further comment, Yaga, Utahime, Mei Mei, and Hiromi pushed through the curtain.

Larue was wiping a stray tear from his eye. He clapped Suguru on the shoulder and said in his mighty deep voice, “Best of luck, my friend, and congratulations on your future engagement.”

“We’re not—”

“Oh, love is truly a blessing!” he cried, arms spread wide and face gazing up to the heavens as he strolled through the veil.

Nanami was the last to step forward, and he leveled them all with a serious expression. “Please join the fight in a timely manner. I would like to see the end of this before the sun rises tomorrow.” He hesitated just as his hand reached for the veil. He peered over his shoulder. “And congratulations. It’s good to have you back, Getou.”

Suguru’s shoulders sagged as he watched the sorcerer disappear into the dome. He was left with Satoru and Yuki standing beside him.

“Welp,” Satoru said suddenly, clapping his hands. “Now that that whole awkward situation is over and done with, you heard the man! Let’s get to work.”

There were moments when Suguru really despised Satoru’s Infinity. Right now was one of them. He shook himself with a harsh exhale and allowed several portals to open across his body at once. He needed to get to work now that Shoko could no longer be considered safe. Twelve Special Grades seeped out of the voids across his body and gathered around him.

“Eh? I thought your max was five?”

Suguru aimed his best friend a cunning smile. “You’re not the only one who’s evolved over the years.”

Hang on, Shoko. I’m coming.

Shoko hovered over Yaga as an explosion detonated overhead. The inky, Grade 2 curse blew up around her body like a bubble as debris rained down onto them. Her former teacher was cursing up a storm as she applied pressure to his bleeding arm—what was left of it.

“Stay still,” she gritted out between clenched teeth as he struggled under her firm touch. He snarled out another vicious curse, determined to absolutely destroy The Hei member who had done this to him, not realizing he’d already killed the man.

Already she could feel the strain wearing on her body. The Hei were highly advanced soldiers who could use powerful cursed techniques, and the Hakari Clan were devastatingly strong. She had already treated Larue’s voice box (the man could shout loud enough to shatter bones), Hiromi’s dislocated shoulder and broken leg, and a deep stab wound that had taken even the ever-vigilant Mei Mei by surprise.

Regrowing bones, connective tissue, and muscles was by far the most challenging injury yet, and it took careful concentration. That cow head curse was already fending off several sorcerers from getting to her and taking her out, but she couldn’t look up to see how the battle was playing out.

Another explosion happened, shaking the very ground under her feet. She growled as her RCT worked to extend the humerus, and the superior, middle, and inferior ligaments combined to form the glenohumeral joint capsule that connected the glenoid fossa to the humerus. She started constructing the elbow next and hissed when Yaga lurched forward with a shout.

Shikome whizzed by her and slammed into the sorcerer that had managed to pass through the cow head curse. The schoolgirl curse had already been exorcised, but Getou’s surveillance seemed to have alerted him to this. Another powerful Grade 1 had already replaced her—some troll-looking curse straight out of a storybook.

“What’s taking those idiots so long!” Yaga barked. “We’ve been fighting off these bastards for an hour and a half!”

And they’d yet to make any progress entering the real Nagoya Castle. If they could at least get Hiromi in, he could cast his domain expansion on the higher ups. At the very least, they knew the council hadn’t been able to escape the veil with Satoru, Suguru, and Yuki still on the outside.

As the minutes ticked by, and most of Yaga’s arm had been reconstructed, Shoko felt confident enough to look up and take in her surroundings. Part of the castle had been decimated, and the stone walls were now mostly a pile of rubble. Honmaru Palace’s entrance hall was also completely destroyed.

Mei Mei was fending off three Hei members by herself, though several crows were circling the air above her head and striking through her opponents. Larue was knocking through Hakari sorcerers like he had bowling balls for hands, and Utahime was dancing through her enemies while waving around the cursed energy tool Baleful Storm. It was a wooden gohei seen in Shinto rituals to cast out evil. The golden, zigzagging paper streamers came down like lightning and struck anyone who came near her with her maximum cursed energy output.

They were holding their own well enough, but because they were trying not to kill their opponents, the Hakari Clan and Hei members were just getting right back up. Killing was a last resort, when no other defensive maneuvers were left, but those that they had killed had hardly put a dent in their numbers.

Nanami sent a clan member blasting through the castle with his wrapped up fist, and Larue roared as a wave of Zenins barreled straight to them. Hiromi was flanking Mei Mei, and together the two fluidly sidestepped the other as they engaged in battle with The Hei.

Yaga jumped to his feet as soon as Shoko was done and rushed back into the fray. He was beside Utahime in an instant, slamming his energy-imbued fist into the face of a clan member. Shoko gave them one last look before taking cover behind the large tree beside the castle’s stone foundation wall. Suguru’s curses followed her and kept the enemy at bay.

Where are you guys? she cried inwardly, eyes darting between the sorcerers on the battlefield. Her eyes kept sliding back to Utahime and Yaga. The man’s arm was working fine, though it had to be sore, and there was a huge scar around his bicep where it had been severed.

Now that Yaga was back, Utahime had taken to a different dancing position. He kept the Zenins off her as she used hand signs and quick footwork to pour her technique into their former teacher. Her eyes glazed over, and Shoko was already running toward her.

This idiot! She’s too vulnerable for too long!

If she could reach Utahime, Suguru’s curses would also protect her while she was in range. Suddenly, a sorcerer blocked her path. She gasped and nearly tripped over her feet as she skidded to a stop—but the flat side of an ax walloped the man upside the head before he could bring his hand up. She turned and saw Utahime finishing up her technique, so she rounded the cursed spirits and kept running. Shikome flew past her and slammed into someone, but she only had eyes for her best friend.

The veil suddenly shuddered, and moonlight poured over the battlefield. The white glow reflected off every sword, every blood stain, every cursed technique that flared to life. Shoko stopped to look up as the moon was soon blocked out by the tsunami-sized wave of curses that swelled and undulated before crashing right into the castle. She screamed, hands flying up to her ears as she was blasted back onto the ground. She hit it and rolled, and she gasped as pain shot up through her back from the impact.

She looked up in time to see Utahime tumble to the ground, eyes were still glazed over. “Uta!” Shoko screamed, but her voice was lost in the chaos.

Clouds of smoke billowed in the air as the army of curses rained down onto the battlefield. They flooded the scene, and both human and inhuman screams tore through the night as the Hakari and The Hei tried to fend off the hoard. Utahime gasped as she came back to herself, and her wild gaze met Shoko’s across the castle grounds.

“Uta!” she screamed again, digging her nails into the ground as she staggered to her feet.

A bellowing roar from one of the Hakari suddenly rose over the staggering noise, followed by a blast of cursed energy so massive it tore hundreds of swarming curses to shreds.

Shoko watched in horror as the blasts ripped right through Utahime.

Chapter Text

The veil was stronger than Gojo Satoru initially gave it credit, but after nearly an hour of the three strongest sorcerers alive giving it all they had, not even the combined power of Jujutsu Headquarters could keep them at bay. Satoru stood above the dome and watched Getou recall his Special Grades before unleashing a wave of lesser curses on the disintegrating curtain.

He watched in amusement as it crashed into the castle. His enhanced eyes flicked down and found each of his allies fending off the Hakari and Hei. He found Utahime first—

Just in time to see her torn to pieces.

“UTA!” Shoko screamed and tore up the ground in her haste to get to the woman. Laying in a crumpled heap, Utahime gasped for air as a pool of blood seeped out around her. Shoko slid to her knees beside her. “Uta, Uta! Stay with me!”

She rolled her over and felt ice flood through her as one of Utahime’s arms remained severed on the ground.

That’s okay, that’s okay. I can regrow bones.

But there was so much blood. A massive gash took up a large portion of her face. Blood was pooling from two fatally deep slashes on her torso and across her hips. Her right foot from the ankle down was gone. Her left calf was gushing blood. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes glazed over.

“I have to stop the bleeding. I can stop the bleeding,” she chanted aloud. She gathered her thoughts as her cursed energy built up in the tips of her fingers. She had to remain calm if she wanted to save Utahime.

The air around her shivered. “Hime?” a hollow voice said. Satoru was there all of a sudden. He dropped down beside her and reached for Utahime’s good hand, and only then could she see the ghosts in his eyes. “Shoko,” he croaked, “fix her.”

Shoko was already working on it. As explosions shook the earth under her feet, blood-curdling screams filled the night, and the inhuman screeches of born nightmares clamored higher and higher until her teeth were chattering. Her bones ached. Her body shivered. Her fingers fumbled.

There were so many wounds. There was so much blood. Where did she start? This was her best friend—if she didn’t—if she didn’t—

Snap out of it! Vitals first.

Her reversed cursed energy flowed into Uta’s stomach, and the woman gasped and writhed in pain. Her black hair had been knocked loose and pooled around her, soaking up blood until the strands were crimson. Her eyes were wild, unseeing.

“Hime!” Satoru’s voice cracked, gathering her closer.

Shoko snarled out, “Put pressure on something! We have to stop the bleeding.”

He grabbed her shoulder just above where it had been severed, and the woman gurgled out a gasp. “Hime! Hime, speak to me—say something, damn it!” He hoisted her up into a sitting position, and blood poured out of her mouth and down her face where the wound was so deep it had split her cheek muscles down to the bone. Her nose was destroyed and dangled from her face.

Shoko screwed her eyes shut against the gruesome sight as she poured everything into closing up and stitching back together the wounds in the stomach. If she could just get them stable enough, she could move on to stopping the bleeding everywhere else. Uta was losing too much blood. If this kept up for any long—

No, no, no. Concentrate! Put more in. You’re the only one who can do this.

“Sho—” Uta gasped, and blood dribbled from her lips. “Go-Goj—”

“Don’t speak!” Shoko snapped, but she couldn’t look up. She couldn’t see Gojo’s shirt soaked through in blood. She couldn’t see Uta’s disfigured face. She couldn’t. She had to concentrate. She had to put more of her cursed energy in, multiply it, and reverse its properties into bringing back what was lost. From the cells up, she had to refabricate it all.

There!

“Your arm,” she demanded and brought her arms up to the stub. “I’ll stop the bleeding. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

She dared to glance up. Utahime was pale. White. A ghost before she was even dead.

Satoru was cradling her face, fingers stained and dripping. His ice-blue eyes were devoid of any emotion. “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill all of them. I didn’t last time. I’ll do it this time. Everyone will die,” he was muttering.

Utahime’s good arm flung up and grabbed him by the collar, and Shoko and Satoru both jumped.

“No,” she gritted out. Blood seeped from her lips, and she coughed violently. Blood started pooling out of her torso again—she’d ripped her wounds open.

Shoko growled out in frustration as her hands came away from her stump to tend to those wounds once more, but blood started streaming out of her severed shoulder again. She couldn’t stop it—she couldn’t stop any of it!

“Don’ be—” Uta gasped, jaw falling open as pain contorted her features. “Don’ be … mon’ser ‘hey ‘hink you are—”

Satoru’s glare was razor sharp. “Stop speaking—”

“You ‘old me … say som’hin—”

“And now I’m asking you to stop!”

Her eyes rolled back. “Promise—me.”

Shoko groaned as her arms shook. “Flirt later, I’m trying to save your life!”

“Promise.”

Satoru’s voice cracked again. “Okay, okay, I promise! You promise to live for me, though!”

Another explosion rocked the ground under their feet, and Shoko hissed as she finally moved away from Uta’s stomach and grabbed her cold, bleeding legs. She just had to stop the hemorrhaging—she just had to stop Utahime from losing so much blood.

Utahime’s voice was but a whisper. “Sorr … y.”

“Utahime—hey! Open your eyes! Hey!”

Shoko’s head snapped up just as Uta went limp.

“NO!” she screamed, heart in her throat. The next step after unconsciousness was death. Shoko could feel it through her fingers. She could feel Utahime’s internal organs failing from lack of blood. Her legs were like ice. “Utahime! Stay with me!”

But Utahime did not respond, and Shoko could feel the exact moment her heart stopped beating.

She dropped Utahime’s legs and shoved Satoru aside. “MOVE!” She pushed Utahime down forcefully onto her back and placed her hands on her chest. She began thrusting down over and over again, applying CPR in time with her RCT.

“I can’t lose you—I won’t lose you!” she shrieked, voice cracking. “Do you hear me! Wake up!”

Her heart refused to start. Oxygen wasn’t getting to her brain. Blood still poured out of her.

Utahime was dead.

She can still be resuscitated! She can live!

Her vision waned, and the edges darkened. She was running out of cursed energy to multiply.

NO! Not at a time like this! “Utahime, please!”

“Shoko—”

“SHUT UP! Uta—Utahime!”

“You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do if you died.”

“You’d live on.”

“I CAN’T WITHOUT YOU!” she sobbed, pressing down harder.

“You don’t get to stop just because I die.”

“You’re not allowed to die! I have to watch everyone else die! Not you! NOT YOU, UTAHIME! WAKE UP!”

“Just don’t die, and I won’t have to worry about that.”

“As if I’d be killed off that easily.”

A sob escaped her just as hands grabbed her. “GET OFF ME! GET OFF!”

“Shoko, she’s—”

“NO, SHE’S NOT!”

There was still time. There was still oxygen in Utahime's brain and blood in her veins. Shoko stared down at her blood-stained hands. There was still time. There was still something she hadn’t tried yet …

She just had to give everything up.

“Maki and Mai are depending on you, so you have to keep going no matter what.”

She closed her eyes and let her cursed energy gather. I’m sorry, Maki. I’m sorry, Mai—

“Don’t ever leave me behind again.”

“I promise.”

—but I’ve always been a liar.

Her hands found Utahime’s cold body, and it was like lightning shot through her limbs. She screamed as the pain ripped through her. Her fingers bit into flesh as her RCT raced through the shredded tissue, stitching it back together at a rapid rate. Her own heart beat so hard she could taste blood in the back of her throat. Her arms locked up and she threw her head back, and a wail tore through her. Hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled, and she yanked herself away. She couldn’t see anything but pure-white light. Like she was being electrocuted, it seared through her skin.

“Shoko!”

“Grab her!”

“I can’t touch her!”

“SHOKO, STOP!”

Pain shot straight through her chest, and blood spewed from her lips. She could feel it dribble down her chin as her white vision threatened to give out on her.

No, not til she’s healed! Not until she’s alive! Give it everything you’ve got!

“SHOKO!” Hands grabbed her again.

“Get off m—GET OFF ME!”

“Shoko, stop! She’s fine now! She’s fine!”

No, she isn’t! There was still so much to fix. Behind the white covering her eyelids, she felt through the thrumming electricity of thousands of needles tattooing across her skin that the right kidney was still premature—

She lurched forward as she vomited blood. The white of her vision shuddered, and everything went black.

“SHOKO!”

Suguru lunged forward to catch her as she fell back. The curse at his side, a poisonous, snake-like creature he had used to immobilize Shoko before she could go too far, merged back into the shadows as it was desummoned. His hand came up to cradle her too-pale face. Her cheeks were gaunt despite the last two weeks of having slowly filled out. The bags under her eyes were dark like bruises. His hand moved, and his fingers found her pulse.

Weak.

Movement at his side caused him to glance up, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.

Satoru now stood across from him holding a small, fragile body. Dark shoes dangled by his side. Limp, black hair hung down to the ground. White, blood-stained fabric swayed in the breeze. Dead, ice-blue eyes stared back at him.

Suguru swallowed and felt all the air leave him. It was like being flung back in time, and he didn't know if the sudden, deafening cadence of clapping was a memory or just the blood rushing in his ears. He shook his head, but his voice still came out a whisper.

“Is she …?”

“No,” Satoru uttered, and his eyes dropped down to the body he was holding. “She’s alive.” He looked back up, and his eyes scanned over Shoko’s unconscious form. “So is she.”

“Barely.”

He nodded. “Barely’s better than nothing.”

Masamichi suddenly appeared by their side, and for a childish moment, he feared he was about to be yelled at. He—Getou Suguru—felt small standing next to his former teacher. They had messed up once again. They had taken too long, and look what had happened. But Yaga didn’t say anything, only briefly shared a look with Satoru, before he gathered Utahime in his arms. Suguru saw a flash of her face, and a huge, discolored scar stretched across her cheek and over the bridge of her nose.

Larue knelt beside him, and his huge hand rested against Suguru’s shoulder. “Higuruma has made it into Nagoya Castle, Getou. Most of the Hakari Clan has fled or surrendered, and the rest of the Zenins fought ‘till their last breath.

Suguru and Satoru would be needed for backup, and the others would stay outside and recuperate now that the only healer was out of commission. They had earned their rest.

Now it was time for Suguru, Satoru, and Yuki to ensure this—everything that had happened to them all—never happened to anyone else ever again.

Of the six council members of Jujutsu Headquarters, four were sentenced to death immediately by Higuruma Hiromi’s shikigami, Judgeman. All were guilty once Satoru pulled out the photos he received from Iori Chiyo the morning of the 31st. When everyone had thought he had gone downstairs to pester the staff about room service, he had actually warped back to Hokkaido.

Not that he’d wanted to use the evidence (because now he was indebted to Gakuganji), but their prior evidence was as they’d feared—insufficient for all of the higher ups except The Laughing Fox, Ogawa Akio.

The Jujutsu Commander, Kamo Kiyoshi—also known as The Golden Liondog—was kept alive for the sole reason he was needed to explain everything to the prime minister. Under a forced binding vow, no less.

The other council member kept alive was known as Blue Ghost … and Satoru had personally stepped in and spared them the final blow.

Now he sat in one of the many hidden rooms within Jujutsu High. Talismans took up every inch of the walls, candles littered the floors, and blessed ropes managed to restrain even the phantom in front of him. His eyes were blindfolded, yet he didn’t need them off to see the resemblance. The cursed energy signatures between parents and children were nearly identical.

If only he’d realized sooner.

“Do you know why I’ve kept you alive?”

Okada Ayuka lifted her head and stared at where his eyes were under the white bandages. Her beauty mark was, interestingly enough, in the same exact spot as Shoko’s.

“Because of my daughter?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” Satoru shouted cheerily. Mentally, he was envisioning all the ways he could slowly kill this woman. “The same daughter you abandoned, left with a known abuser, and then later had her think you committed suicide! Whew! I don’t know about you, but I think that deserves a Worst Parent of the Year award.”

Ayuka studied him for a moment before looking away. “You two seem close.”

Satoru stood from his chair and calmly strolled over to her. When he bent down to her level, he didn’t miss the flinch she tried to hide. He slowly pulled down the bandages, and with his other hand he gripped her by the jaw with gentle pressure that belied his power. When their gazes finally met, she inhaled sharply at the color that flooded his eyes.

“I’m more family to Shoko than you ever were. When she wakes up in that hospital bed, I’m going to be one of the first people she sees. When she recovers, then and only then, will you walk in and explain everything to her. After that, you will be executed. I’m only sorry it won’t be by my hand, but I made a promise not to be a monster.”

He stood to his feet and began to leave the room, but he paused when Ayuka called out to him.

“I did it for her! I did everything for her! I was trying to have someone—anyone—come into having a reverse cursed technique that could heal other people! So she wouldn't be the only one! So she could live her life without any restrictions!”

In exchange for the suffering of how many? He didn’t bother asking. He stood there for a while, listening to her pathetic sobs, but even then he couldn’t be moved. “I used to think love was the most twisted curse of all … but now I know better. Label it whatever you like, what you did wasn’t love.”

“Yes, it was!” she screamed at his retreating back, but when the door slammed shut, he couldn’t hear her any longer.

A black sedan was waiting for him outside. “The hospital,” he told Ijichi once he was seated inside. “Any news?”

Ijichi dejectedly shook his head. “No signs of any change in Shoko. Utahime remains in and out of consciousness, but she’s expected to make a full recovery.”

He nodded quietly. “Have the kids seen them yet?”

“They won’t leave the room. Suguru has his hands full dealing with them all.”

Satoru cracked a smile, but it fell too quickly. “Serves him right, leaving Hime-chan with all those kids. Now it’s his turn.”

Ijichi began to fidget in his seat, and he hurriedly used a handkerchief to dab at his sweaty brow. “U-Um, didn’t you also … uh, leave the kids alone with, um, Utahime?”

Satoru paused in contemplation. Then he said not a moment later, “Stop talking and drive the car, Ijichi.”

“Ah, uh—o-okay.”

Chapter Text

Maki decided that day that she hated hospitals. They were cold, all the walls were white with ugly paintings that did nothing to make the place seem friendlier, and all around her she could hear people crying, coughing, or yelling out in pain or anger. Whatever cursed energy was supposed to feel like, it was like she could feel it clogging up the air, though she doubted any curses were lingering around with five or six sorcerers wandering the building at any given time.

The room Shoko was in was always crowded. Every time she walked in, someone was crying. Mai, Nanako, Mimiko, Tsumiki … one time she’d walked in and found Getou wiping at his face and pretending like nothing was wrong.

But Maki wasn’t stupid. Shoko was in what the doctors called a coma. They didn’t know when she would wake up. The doctors didn’t know anything. It was never the same person coming in to check. They all had the same, bland reactions like they didn’t care—and maybe they didn’t.

She hated this place.

She found a dark recess in the hospital walls. A lone bench sat forgotten next to a dusty vase full of fake flowers. She sat down and realized the vending machine across from her was empty. No one would walk down this hallway.

She brought her legs up and buried her face in her knees as she clung to herself. The muffled voices, TVs, beeping equipment, and footsteps all faded into the background.

“Don’t ever leave me behind again.”

“I promise.”

It was the first time someone had ever promised her anything. Not even Youko could make promises while living in the compound. And Shoko made promises over everything—even coming back to bed. She always kept them, too. No matter how small or insignificant. So why? Why now, out of all of the promises, was she not keeping this one?

“You promised,” she sobbed in a harsh whisper. “You promised me, so wake up already. Wake up!”

She curled in on herself tighter, thinking over and over again how much she hated this place.

Mai stared at Shoko from the seat pulled close to the bed. She hadn’t moved away even when the nurse that came in to check for vitals seemed to be having a difficult time maneuvering around her. She didn’t look up when Mei Mei came to visit with a vase full of purple and orange flowers, and she didn’t look up when Mei Mei left three minutes later. So many people came and went just like her. Some were scary looking, and some tried to talk to her. When she didn’t respond to them, they left her alone.

Utahime would wake up for a few seconds, but then she would go to sleep again. Mai would close her eyes and wish, more than anything, that Shoko would do the same thing.

She didn’t. The doctors said she wasn’t going to either, not right away. She was in a “coma.” Mai didn’t really know what that meant, but Shoko looked the same as when she did the first time they met. Skinny, pale, with sunken cheeks and dark bags under her eyes. She rarely slept those first few days. She had relaxed a little bit in Getou’s domain, and then a lot more at the estate. She had started sleeping as much as everyone else—but this didn’t look the same.

Shoko was so still. Mai sometimes had trouble sleeping too. Sometimes she watched Shoko sleep just because Shoko would toss or turn in uncomfortable-looking positions. She sometimes would sleep with her mouth open and drool, and one night Maki and Mai had both giggled so hard it actually woke her up. She’d threatened to drool on their heads if they didn’t go to sleep soon.

Mai smiled at the memory, but it wobbled as tears formed in her eyes.

It was just her in the room now. Getou had taken Mimiko and Nanako back to the hotel, and Gojo was out making calls or doing whatever it was Gojo did. Tsumiki had been dragged away by Megumi so that they could finally eat—to keep up their strength, or whatever.

She took a deep breath and summoned her courage. “Mommy?”

She waited. She’d never actually called Shoko mommy before. She’d called her a mommy, their mommy—but never just mommy.

Shoko didn’t stir, and Mai’s face crumpled as her heart squeezed in her chest.

When Satoru later came back to the room, he found Mai curled in on herself, crying her eyes out once again.

Tsumiki wiped at her eyes as she chewed a bite of her salmon. It tasted flavorless. Her head hurt from all the crying, but she couldn’t get the image of Shoko’s prone body and Utahime’s scar out of her head. Utahime had woken up long enough to look over at her and smile before she passed out once more.

“Gojo says they’ll be fine,” Megumi said after they’d made it halfway through their meal. It had been awkward and quiet, but neither had known what to say.

Tsumiki nodded, but she didn’t have a response to give. Megumi stopped trying to fill the silence.

He stared at his reflection in his soup broth, and he hated what stared back at him. Someone useless and pathetic—given one of the greatest techniques in the modern world, and he couldn’t do much of anything with it yet.

Maybe if he had been older, been better, trained harder … Utahime might not have that scar on her face. He shook his head. Utahime was alive. Shoko was alive. That was what mattered, and Gojo said they’d be fine.

He never tended to believe what his benefactor said most days … but just this once … he had hope.

“Getou?” Mimiko murmured sleepily in his arms. Nanako laid her head on the other side of his chest as all three lounged together in the hotel bed. Suguru had spent most of the early morning and into the afternoon watching Shoko sleep. The girls had stayed up with him worrying, and only for their sakes did he get up and walk away from that hospital room. He hadn’t had the heart to pull the Zenin twins away from Shoko, though.

“Yes?” he yawned, smiling when the contagious gesture spread to the twins.

“Do you love Shoko?”

His eyes widened at the question. Nanako even lifted her head to look first at her sister before she met his gaze. Caught between the two of their expectant faces, he sighed. He supposed he should be honest with them—with himself.

“Yes, I do. Not like I love you two, though,” he hurried to say, fearing they’d get the wrong idea and think they were about to be replaced. “You’ll always be important to me no matter what.”

Mimiko didn’t seem bothered by this notion and steamrolled over his sentimental spiel. “Does that mean you’re scared?”

Suguru paused, thinking about how to word what he was going to say next. “I was. I was very scared I was going to lose her.”

“Are you not scared anymore?” Nanako asked.

He sighed again and didn’t miss the look the two of them exchanged. “I’m worried, but I’m not scared. She’s going to wake up.”

Nanako rested her head back against him. “How do you know?”

“Because out of the three of us, Shoko’s always been the most resilient.”

“What does ‘resilient’ mean?” Mimiko queried.

He chuckled and tucked her back under his chin. “It means to recover from difficult situations.”

“Oh,” she whispered quietly. Then she gasped and jerked back up. She hit Suguru’s chin in the process, and he groaned as she shouted triumphantly, “Then that means we’re all resilient!”

Nanako began laughing so hard she snorted and rolled away from them, and Suguru clutched his jaw and glared at his brunette daughter.

Mimiko stared at him with wide, innocent eyes. “What? What I do?”

“You just slammed your head into his chin, Mimi!” Nanako cackled, nearly falling off the bed.

Mimiko looked between her sister and Suguru before offering a weak smile. “It’s okay, Getou, you’re resilient.”

Satoru was uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with the crappy, metal hospital chair he was sitting in nor the awkward conversation going on between him and Higuruma Hiromi. The man had a worse RBF than Shoko, and his voice was deep and monotone and, above all, awkward—but no, that wasn’t why he was uncomfortable.

It was because Mai had taken one look at him sitting down in the chair between Shoko and Utahime’s separate hospital beds and took that as an invitation to crawl into his lap and cry. Now she was passed out cold yet still managed to whine like a baby if he tried to move her. His Infinity was the only thing that had kept the snot, tears, and now drool off his ¥250,000 shirt.

“Is that your daughter?” Hiromi had asked bluntly when he’d first entered the room.

Satoru’s eyebrows had flown up to his hairline, but Hiromi couldn’t see them under the bandages. “Huh? No, no way. Call her a, uh … niece, I guess.”

Hiromi had taken the hard, leather sofa across the room and nodded without a word. Silence filled the room, and Satoru busied himself with stiffly patting Mai’s back, hoping the little scamp would wake up and scurry off his lap.

“You don’t like kids?”

“Kids are great,” Satoru was quick to answer. He was serious despite his clear uneasiness with affection. “They’re fun—well, most of them are. Megumi’s a real stick in the mud sometimes, but he’s not so bad.” He let a smile form across his face as he stared down at Mai. Sometimes the twins' big, innocent eyes would remind him of Riko. The way she acted like such a spoiled child sometimes made it all the more fun to pick on her. When she died ... well, her life was cut too short—Star Plasma Vessel or not. He didn't want to see that happen to another child. Though he hadn’t been able to provide a life for Riko, he could do it for Megumi and Tsumiki. Shoko would do the same thing for Maki and Mai, and Getou had already proven he would do anything for Nanako and Mimiko. All that they had done was just so these kids could have a chance. “They’re the future," he said after a moment and turned his now lopsided grin Higuruma's way. "Gotta make the world a better place for them to grow up in, ya know?”

Hiromi nodded solemnly. “I think we’ve made the right steps to achieving that. Justice has prevailed—at least for now. The world as we sorcerers know it will be turbulent for a while, but now we have the chance to make it more just. We can implement fairer laws now that we’ve stopped corruption at its core.”

That was true. Satoru had spent most of the day on a conference call with the prime minister and the Gojo Clan elders who still had all the incriminating evidence (plus the new files from Gakuganji) in their possession. Of course, Japan’s leader wanted to avoid a political scandal, so he was completely open to anything Satoru had to say. “I told the big man you were the one who brought the higher ups to justice. He talked about giving you a new law firm in the city if you wanted. Medals and badges of honor and whatnot.”

“I didn’t do it for the glory.” He gestured with a nod of his head toward Mai. “I did it for that kid sitting in your lap and for every other kid out there in the same boat. That guy Nanami—he had it right. Being a child isn’t a sin.”

Satoru hummed. “Ah, Nanamin, always so poetic. That reminds me, I owe him one for showin’ up.”

Hiromi nodded and stood to his feet. He shook out his jacket and straightened his suit lapels before bowing stiffly. “I came to give my thanks to you all. Back in that courtroom, I saw humanity at its ugliest, yet I was able to end the corruption at the root. It was the most satisfying trial I’ve ever been a part of, and it has rekindled my hope and determination as a lawyer. Contrarily, I hope to never experience such a perverse situation ever again, though I know I will.”

Satoru waved a hand about nonchalantly. “No doubt about it. We humans,” he paused, and his hand slowly dropped down to the chair, “we do some ugly things.”

Hiromi nodded again and, having said all he needed to say, walked quietly out of the room. Satoru sighed as the silence returned. He looked between Shoko’s pale face and Utahime who was covered nearly head-to-toe in bandages and quickly escaped into his list of contacts. He pulled up Nanami’s name and started humming to himself, hoping to drown out the beeping monitors.

“What do you want?”

“Nanamin! Long time no see.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Ahahaha, wait! I have something important to ask!”

The line was quiet for a moment. “If it’s something stupid like which kind of confectionary I like better—”

“That was a valid question at the time, Nanamin.”

The line went silent again, and Satoru had to pull the phone back to see if the sorcerer had actually hung up on him. Seeing that he hadn’t, Satoru decided to not push him too far … yet.

“Well, anyway, I told you I owe ya one for showin’ up. Now it’s your turn to tell me what you want.”

“I didn’t do it for—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we all know you to be the most virtuous sorcerer, but what do you want? Mei Mei got a high rise in Seoul. No fuss about propriety and all that. Seriously, you’re only gonna get this one chance, ya know. Better take advantage of it.”

“You say this, but you will continue to pester me until I’ve taken you up on your offer.”

He gasped dramatically. “You know me so well! Nanami, I feel like we’ve grown closer.”

Nanami sighed and went quiet again, but Satoru took it as him contemplating his options. It wasn’t like he wasn’t rich. If Nanami wanted to quit jujutsu society again and start his own business empire, Satoru could hand him the keys tomorrow. Hell, with the prime minister kissing his ass, the man would get it done with none of Gojo’s money spent.

“I’ve always wanted to visit Malaysia.”

Satoru blinked. “Malaysia?”

“Kuntan, specifically. I think I’d like to go there once before I die.”

Everyone else in the room was asleep, so it was okay to let the soft smile spread across his face. He chuckled into the receiver. “Sure thing, Nanami … economy seating is fine, though, right? I mean, if I can come with you, then maybe—”

“I’m hanging up now.”

Chapter Text

Utahime woke for more than a few minutes on the third day. The first thing she saw was the bright, overhead lights that had her immediately squinting. The action caused a sharp pain to flare up across her right cheek. She pushed herself up with a hiss and gingerly ran her fingers across the skin there. It was tight with a rough texture, and it spanned across her face and over her nose. As she slowly started coming back to herself, she felt the same sensation on multiple points of her body—then she remembered.

Ice shot through her veins, and her hands flew over her torso and chest. She brought her arms back and stared at them. One of her arms shouldn’t be attached to her body right now. Her heart shouldn’t be beating right now.

Shoko must have—

“Shoko!” she gasped, but her words were hardly a whisper as her throat felt like sandpaper. Her gasp had startled an abrupt snore out of someone, and she snapped her head in the direction of the hospital sofa across the room.

Satoru wore baggy sweats that probably cost an arm and a leg (she was now the only one allowed to use that joke) and was sprawled across the leather couch, making it look comically tiny. He was surrounded by four, napping children. Maki and Mai had squeezed in on his left, and Tsumiki and Megumi took up the right side with the latter looking disgruntled even in his sleep.

“Gojo?” she asked weakly, and the man blinked in a daze before springing to his feet, uncaring if Mai and Tsumiki had been using him to support their heads. They nearly fell off the couch but managed to catch themselves just in time. Once Tsumiki blearily looked up, her gasp was sharp enough to startle the rest of the children awake.

“Hime-chan,” Satoru said as he rushed to her side, pulling up one of the chairs and taking her hand in his much bigger one. His eyes, visible behind the dark sunglasses he wore, were red-rimmed and tired looking, but the color was as clear as the ocean on a sunny day. His gaze flicked all over her before settling on her face—on one particular spot. “You’re awake,” he breathed out with a grin.

The children hurriedly surrounded her cot, and already Tsumiki and Mai were tearing up. Her heart stirred at the sight even as her face flared red in embarrassment. “Oh, come on now, guys! Stop crying! I’m fine, see?” She took back her hand and waved her arms wildly up and down, but she stopped with a hiss as she pulled on the scar on her torso. “Well, mostly fine,” she grunted.

Satoru laughed. “You sure let the enemy do a number on ya. What should I expect from a weakling like you?”

“Hey, don’t be mean!” Maki snapped and popped him on the back of the head. His Infinity was down, and the hit landed. Mai, upon seeing this, started beating on his arms.

“Yeah, stop being mean to Utahime! She’s a lady!”

Satoru hastily raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! A lady? Where?”

“Gojo, you jerk!” Utahime snapped and went to smack him next. He sprang to his feet with another boisterous laugh, and it was only then that Utahime saw the person in the other cot. Her face paled as her eyes landed on Shoko’s still form. “Shoko?”

The children quieted down, and Satoru peered over his shoulder before slowly sitting back in the chair. “Yeah. She, uh, saved your life, but it almost cost her her own.”

Utahime swallowed around the lump in her throat, and her next breath hitched as a weight settled over her chest. “That idiot,” she hissed, tears springing to her eyes. She cupped her face to hide from the others, but she jerked away when her fingers brushed up against the rough texture of her skin. Slowly, her hands fell to the bed where she gathered the sheets in her grasp. “Is she going to be okay?”

“The doctor says she’s in a comma,” Maki said.

“Coma,” Megumi corrected.

Maki frowned, but Gojo spoke up before she could threaten the boy. “Doc said best case scenario she’d wake up anytime now. Worst case? A month.”

Utahime’s eyes bulged. “A month?”

He shrugged, and despite the nonchalant action, his eyes seemed troubled. “They’re not sorcerers, Hime. They don’t know what’s wrong with her. You should have seen her. She poured out so much of her RCT, it was like watching you get stitched back together on fast-forward. Your heart had already stopped beating. What she did—I don’t think she should have been able to do it. If Suguru hadn’t of stepped in, I think she would have—” he stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. “She’d be a lot worse off.” She’d be dead.

She took a deep breath and nodded as she processed the information. She was mad, and thankful, and frustrated, and sad, and so, so happy to be alive. She was even more thankful that Shoko had a high chance of living too. She just needed her sleep. Right now wasn’t the time to fall apart or get angry at what could have happened. Not with little, impressionable eyes watching her.

So, she took another deep breath and changed the topic. “Someone hand me a mirror.”

Satoru hesitated, eyes flicking down to what was no doubt a nasty scar. “Hime—”

“You can’t hide this from me forever, Gojo. It’s on my face. I want to see what I look like now.”

He nodded and brought out his HTC Evo. Flipping the camera to forward-facing, he handed her the phone. Her brow crinkled in confusion at being handed a phone but smoothed out once she saw herself. She gave no other reaction as she looked at the screen, only tilted her head and gingerly brushed her fingers against the large scar.

She set the phone down and took another deep, steadying breath before raising her eyes at the children and giving them her best smile. “Do I look cool now?”

Megumi, surprisingly, nodded. “You look cooler than Gojo.”

“Hey!”

She made a face playfully in return. “Everybody looks cooler than Gojo.”

“Hime-chan!”

“I think you look super cool, too!” Mai announced with a large grin. “Like a superhero!”

“Yeah, I’d hate to see what the other guy looked like,” Maki said.

Utahime laughed, clutching her chest with a wince but managing to keep her smile. It faded, though, when the door opened. Getou, his daughters holding cartons of milk cookies, and her mother walked in. As soon as Nanako and Mimiko saw her, they immediately dropped the cartons of cookies with a squeal and ran over to her.

Chiyo had a serene expression on her face and smiled lightly in her daughter’s direction. “Utahime, you’re finally awake.”

Utahime swallowed but managed to smile back. “Yes. I’m feeling a little sore, but I’m okay. I think they’ll release me anytime now.” Her eyes traveled down to the fraternal twins bouncing up and down in front of her, and she ruffled their hair. “Maybe we’ll all get to go back to the estate when this is over with.”

“Yeah!” Mimiko shouted with glee. “Shoko just has to wake up first.”

Utahime’s smile froze on her face, and she didn’t miss the way Mai flinched. “Yes … which, uh, should be any day now, right, Satoru? That's what you said?”

Satoru’s eyes blew wide at the mention of his first name falling from Utahime’s lips, and she seemed to realize this too. Her face flared red, and Gojo looked away while scratching the back of his head. “Uh, yeah, doctor said she was in tip-top shape, just, uh, you know … catchin’ up on all that sleep she’s been missing.”

Nanako appeared confused. “But Shoko hasn’t been missing that much sleep.”

“Oh, well, yeah—”

Chiyo cleared her throat, and everyone reflexively looked in her direction. “I’m terribly sorry to ask this of you all, but would you mind if I spoke with my daughter alone for a moment?” She turned toward Getou and bowed slightly. “I know this is an insensitive request since you have just arrived, but can you oblige me with this one favor?”

Suguru blinked, arms loaded with the milk cookie cartons the girls had abandoned. His expression evened out, and a soft smile graced his lips. “Of course, I understand.”

Utahime shared a glance with Gojo and nudged her head in the direction of the door. He looked back and forth for a moment before he leapt to his feet with a shout. “What—why, Suguru, you shouldn’t have! All those milk cookies for little ole me?”

Nanako glared and pointed at him. “Hey! Those are to share!”

Suguru’s smile turned coy, and he waved a box of cookies at the children. “First come, first serve, you know.”

All the children—and Satoru—quickly rushed for the door. All except Maki. She sighed, staring at Shoko’s cot before slowly strolling out of the room. She was polite enough to close the door behind her.

For a long moment, it was silent save for the beeps and drip-drip-drip of the IV drip bag. One could cut through the tension in the air with a katana.

Utahime couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes. “Mama, I’m s—”

“You stupid, stupid girl!” Chiyo shouted suddenly. Utahime’s head flew up just as a wail tore out of her mother. The woman flung herself onto her daughter’s cot and threw her arms around her. Sobs racked her entire body as she clutched Uta close. “My baby! My baby!”

Utahime’s lip began to wobble, and she screwed her eyes shut just as the flood came over her. Her arms wrapped around her mother’s torso, nails digging into the fabric of her kimono. She could have lost this. The thought tore her heart wide open where there was no doubt a scar that matched the one on her face. “I’m sorry, mama. I’m so sorry.”

Chiyo sobbed wetly and drew back. Her gentle hands came up to cup Utahime’s cheeks, and her thumb drifted over the scar. Tears continued to slip down her porcelain face. “Look what they’ve done to you. My poor baby. Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Uta sniffed and looked away, but her own tears wouldn’t stop. “It’s a little ugly, isn’t it?”

Her chin was snatched up, and she was forced to look into her mother’s angry, ochre eyes. “Iori Utahime, you are the most beautiful girl in the entire world! Scars aren’t what determine your beauty, your heart does. Are you listening to me?”

Utahime quickly nodded her head.

Chiyo gentled her grasp, and her thumb swept over the bumpy, scaly skin once more. “You have the biggest heart out of anyone I know, and that’s why I tell you all the time how beautiful you are. Any sorcerer worth their rank can see it, and I know a Special Grade who has six eyes with all of them trained on you, sweetheart.”

Utahime’s lips wobbled again, but it was to hold back the smile that threatened to break across her face. Laughter won over, and she giggled and nuzzled into her mother’s palm. “Thank you, mama.”

Chiyo giggled as well and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Anytime, baby. Anytime.”

“You think they realize we can hear them?” Satoru asked as he popped a cookie into his mouth. He and Suguru were leaning back against the wall of the hospital room while the kids had found plenty of hall benches to sit on and share their snacks. Maki seemed to be the only one not interested and had found something to look at outside the large window.

“Obviously not,” Suguru replied, handing the rest of his cookies over. Satoru gladly took them.

“I’m just saying, she was really loud just then.”

“People are often blinded by their emotions.”

“You would know all about that.”

Suguru glared at him, ready to snap back with something when his eye caught someone coming out of the elevator. His lips thinned, and at the change in his expression, Satoru whipped around and groaned obnoxiously.

“Gramps, what are you doing here? You finally dyin’ or somethin’?”

Gakuganji sighed upon seeing them, and Yaga looked two seconds away from pummeling the both of them. “Why does everyone think my health is failing me?” he grumbled as he made his way over to the room.

Satoru, always ready to don the rude little brat persona, tipped his head to the side and wondered aloud, “Maybe it’s less thinking and more wishing?”

"Missed opportunity to say 'wishful thinking,'" Suguru snickered childishly.

“Watch your mouthes,” Yaga snapped, but Gakuganji held up a hand.

“I understand your dislike of me, Gojo Satoru, and I understand you did not speak on my behalf to Prime Minister Kan out of the kindness of your heart … but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Gojo looked like having the principal personally thank him was going to make him physically sick. Suguru made to elbow him with a smirk, but Satoru blocked him with Infinity and stuck his tongue out at him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have something to say to the Iori girl.”

Without further ado, he opened the door and strode inside.

Satoru and Suguru exchanged looks with one another and shrugged as if they were in on some joke, and Yaga took the opportunity to grab them both by the scruffs and drag them away. No one eavesdrops on his watch.

Chiyo had already composed herself by the time Gakuganji entered and bowed slightly upon seeing him. Already knowing what lay in store for her daughter, she was quick to excuse herself with a secretive smile and a quiet promise to come back later.

Silence descended upon the room, and Utahime fidgeted with her blankets. “Principal Gakuganji,” she greeted stiffly, “I’m honored to have you come visit me.”

He stared at her without a word, and she knew she was being assessed. His eyes flicked over her entire body, and she felt a physical chill as his gaze swept over her. Finally, he said, “Scars like yours speak of experience. They tell stories of hard-fought battles survived by sheer force of will, determination, and above all, skill. You won’t look so incompetent when you teach the Kyoto Jujutsu students.”

The words, and the full meaning of what he was saying, took her a long moment to sink in. Utahime’s jaw dropped when she finally understood. He had just given her the teaching position at the Kyoto school! “I—uh—!” She bowed as far down as she could in her cot. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity!” she shouted. “I won’t disappoint you!”

He nodded slightly in return and turned to leave. “Rest well. I look forward to your future graduation, Iori Utahime.”

“Thank you, Principal Gakuganji!”

It was only when he was outside and walking toward the rumbling black sedan that he paused and looked back up at the hospital. “I look forward to your future graduation, Iori Utahime, and I look forward to the day you reach Grade 1.”

As he sank into the leather backseat and waited for the car to drive off, he recalled his previous conversation with the girl’s mother. Oh, how he had misjudged her.

“I accept.”

Gakuganji nodded. “Very well, I’ll have—”

“On one condition.”

He grew silent and waited for the Iori matriarch to list her terms. If she was trying to pull one over on him, he would gladly revoke his offer.

“I accept on the condition that you rescind your previous statement.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You see, Principal Gakuganji, not a day goes by where I do not worry about my children, especially Utahime. She is my only daughter and the only one who has fought on the frontlines. There will be many close calls, and I may eventually lose her before her time, but I will never stand in the way of my daughter’s future. I have to put aside my personal feelings and let her walk her own path.”

He was silent as he contemplated her words, but, in all honesty, he was unbiased about the whole situation. It mattered not to him.

“Very well, I understand.”

The higher ups for the new council were announced on the 5th day. Of the six positions, Gojo Hideaki had made the cut. Whether this was to remain in favor with one of the heroes of the recent event or just because Satoru’s father was actually qualified for the position, only Prime Minister Kan knew. Two Kamos were also elevated (despite the previous commander being from the clan). Inumaki Satoshi—the current head of the Inumaki Clan—had been chosen as well. The position of clan head would be passed on to his son, Tetsuya, who, despite not having inherited the powerful cursed technique Cursed Speech, had at least fathered a son who did.

This was important information to keep tabs on now that the Inumakis—a powerful and widely recognized clan—had outshined the now beaten down Hakari Clan for the third spot as one of The Big Three Sorcerer Families.

The last lieutenant to join Jujutsu Headquarters … was none other than Gakuganji Yoshinobu. Unfortunately for him, the leading position of Jujutsu Commander was going to be vacant for a while and led mostly by Prime Minister Kan’s cabinet for the unforeseen future. They would report to him right away about any problems arising and advise him on what actions to take. Though the prime minister wasn’t a sorcerer, his best interest was in the welfare of Japan and its citizens.

It looked like Gakuganji was going to have to fight for that position when the time came all on his own. And as for where the new Jujutsu Headquarters was going to be located … well …

Satoru shrugged, not really understanding why he’d been summoned to the underground tombs to begin with. “Not like it makes any difference to me since I’ll see through any disguise you put up anyway, but, uh, mind telling me why they’re planning on using the same location? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of secrecy?”

Master Tengen was an odd-looking … being. Their head was shaped more like a tree stump, and they had four eyes and stiff features. Their body was more human-esque but still looked a bit unnatural. They wore light, traditional clothing befitting someone who had been alive since at least the Nara period. “Hiding in plain sight is sometimes one’s greatest tactic,” they spoke calmly, gaze drifting in some unseeing direction. “It will also serve as a perpetual reminder of what happens when one lets fear, greed, or pride rule one’s actions. Above all of this, though, is that the real Nagoya Castle is far too different from its rebuilt copy outside the barrier. I would have had to alter the memories of every person who has set eyes on the castle. That option, while accomplishable, would take far too long and would be subject to errors. I opted to restore the second castle to its previous appearance instead, though that was no easy feat either, even for someone as skilled as myself.”

Satoru was convinced Tengen talked just for the sake of hearing themself talk. Or maybe they were just super lonely having lived down here in the tombs for, like, centuries. Either way, he was hoping they’d get to the point eventually.

“And I was summoned here because …?”

Tengen peered over their shoulder, and what could only be a soft smile surfaced across their rigid face. “Ah, yes, you must be anxious to return to your comrades. Send them my regards, would you?” They cleared their throat and turned back into the white void within their domain. “While I reconstructed the decoy Nagoya Castle, I changed where the opening was to the real structure. I would like you to show this to the new council members as well as the Inumaki and Kamo Clan heads.” They turned away completely, hands held at ease behind their back. “That is all. You may go.”

Satoru stared at their back for a long, quiet moment before his eyes narrowed. “That’s not all there is, is there?”

For the first time during their meeting, Tengen’s shoulders lowered into a posture of defeat, and a sigh left their lips. “No.” They slowly turned fully to face him and lifted their arms so that Satoru could get a good look. “I had thought this a topic too sensitive to bring to light since you had failed the last mission I assigned to you. Yet, you are the bearer of the Six Eyes which means you are still linked to the Star Plasma Vessel and me by destiny. I wanted you to see for yourself what I had become.”

Satoru swallowed at the mention of Riko. “You mean you didn’t always look this way?” he asked airily.

“Four years ago, I held a human appearance. To maintain the balance of the world, I sent you and Getou Suguru on a mission to protect the Star Plasma Vessel so when the time came to merge myself with her, humanity’s survival would not be placed in jeopardy. As previously stated, the mission was a failure, and I was unable to merge with Amanai Riko. Because of this, I have since evolved past my own humanity, but the world remains safe even despite this.”

His brow scrunched in confusion. “Old man Naobito said the higher ups had another Star Plasma Vessel on standby. That R-Riko was just a decoy.” Nausea churned in his belly at saying her name, and pins and needles danced across the bridge of his nose as if any minute he was going to pass out. He straightened his back and concentrated on not appearing so pathetic.

Tengen sadly shook their head. “Though there are candidates throughout the years who are somewhat compatible with merging, there is only ever one Star Plasma Vessel, Gojo Satoru. Jujutsu Headquarters did offer to have me merge with one of these candidates after Amanai’s death, but I refused. She was not compatible enough to stop my evolution, and I would not needlessly allow any more lives to be taken. It had taken Jujutsu Headquarters three days of scrambling to find even her. No one was on standby.”

So … Riko’s death—it hadn’t been meaningless. A pressure had settled over his chest, and it felt hard to breathe in that moment. “I need—I need to go.”

“Wait just one moment, Satoru, I implore you.”

He had already turned away, ready to warp to somewhere, anywhere he could be alone. He really needed to be by himself right now, but the urgency in Tengen’s voice stopped him. He didn’t think he could say anything at the moment, so he waited in silence.

“I have stated this before, but I will say it again. Though the Star Plasma Vessel died before we could merge, Amanai Riko and I remain linked.”

Satoru felt the breath in his lungs freeze.

“It is only because of my evolution, and because we never merged, that I am able to hear her from the other side—though it is not always the case. As such, I have a message for you.”

He slowly peered over his shoulder. All the hairs on his body rose as a chill swept over him. It felt as if he’d stopped breathing entirely.

“‘Do not blame yourselves for my death, Gojo, Getou. We were kids, and the world was our enemy. You allowed me to live more in those few days in Okinawa than I had ever gotten to before—so stop holding yourselves back, dummies! Stop blaming yourselves for things you had no control over, and go live your lives while you still have the chance! I’m okay. I promise. I’m okay.’”

Tengen cleared their throat. “She insisted I say exactly those words with the same inflection. I apologize for the name calling.”

Satoru’s laugh came out of him in an explosive huff of air. “Sounded just like her,” he tried to deflect. “If this whole saving humanity gig doesn’t pay off, you could always go into acting, Tengen. Had me fooled there for a sec’ thinking she was back from the dead.”

“Do not forget the mission I’ve given you, Gojo Satoru … and, may the stars forever align in your favor.”

On that final note, Satoru disappeared in the blink of an eye. Tengen sighed.

I have done as you’ve requested, Amanai Riko.

Thanks, Master Tengen. Hopefully, that dummy gets his life in order now. I’m tired of seeing him mope around. Anyway, you wouldn’t believe who just showed up on the other side, crying and moaning about—

Tengen sighed again. Some days they missed the quiet desolation of this lonely domain, but sometimes … sometimes having something to listen to wasn’t so bad.

He can’t believe the other side is one big reception area where we all gotta wait to get into heaven. I mean how ungrateful can you be? At least there’s vending machines here, and we totally get to spy on people down below while we wait for God to call our name. Seriously, I’ve been dead for four years and I still haven’t—

Well, most of the time.

Across Tokyo, Satoru stumbled into the middle of his penthouse apartment. He fell to his knees immediately and dry heaved violently onto the bamboo floor, but there was nothing in his stomach. He gasped as he fell back against his couch and slowly looked down at his trembling fingers.

Riko’s death hadn’t been meaningless.

She was okay.

She wanted him to be okay.

He covered his face with his hands, and his body began to convulse. A wet sob ripped from his throat, followed by another, then another, but his cries slowly evolved into chuckles—then full on belly laughs.

When the eventual day of his death came and went and he made it up into heaven, he was going to kick Riko’s ass for being a little brat and having the nerve to lecture him.

Then … then he was going to thank her.

Chapter Text

On the seventh day, Shoko woke up. Her eyes remained closed as she took stock of her surroundings.

Beep. Beep. Drip-drip. Beep. Beep. Drip-drip.

Hospital. Where?

She could faintly hear coughing somewhere nearby and the rushed gait of footwork over tile. Not Jujutsu High infirmary. Her body felt fine if not a little stiff. Her fingers and toes were also a little cold—poor circulation. She must have been unconscious for a few days, but she could make a run for it if she needed to.

Her eyes opened fully. No one was in the room.

She sat up with a wince and took in her surroundings. There was a chill in the air as well as the smell of antiseptic and cleaning products. Despite the background noise, it was quiet, and with the quiet came a sense of loneliness, but at least it was bright. Looking out the large window, she could see a city around the hospital. So, she wasn’t in enemy territory. She was safe.

Safe and alone.

How many people care enough to come to your hospital room? How many call you, crying and thanking a higher power that you’re still alive?

Apparently no one.

She let go a deep breath and felt a wan smile stretch across her lips. At least Maki and Mai were safe now. Gojo and Getou were probably fixing all the political drama that had no doubt happened, and Utahime—

She froze before snapping her head around. The other cot beside her was empty. Her hands flew over her body, but her clothing had already been exchanged for a hospital gown. Her head whipped around as she tried to find her cell phone. Someone had to know if Utahime was okay. Shoko was still alive, so had it not worked? Had Utahime died because she couldn’t trade her life for hers?

Just as she was about to fling the covers over her legs and track down the nearest nurse, loud, arguing voices could be heard down the hallway.

“Gojo, you’re such an insensitive jerk!”

“I’m not saying I don’t want her to wake up, Hime-chan, I’m just saying that if she doesn’t, can I eat the cake? It’s gonna go bad within a day!”

“Sugar is a preservative, you moron, and this cake is literally nothing but sugar!”

“Really? Maybe that’s why I’m still alive despite all these dangerous missions—because I’m so sweet.”

The door was pushed open, and Utahime was in the middle of replying to Satoru with a scathing remark when her eyes met Shoko’s. She wore her typical miko garb with her long, dark hair pulled up with an ornate bow. A large scar raced across her otherwise smooth face. In her hands, she held a colorful cake.

Oh. Today must be her birthday.

Everyone stopped abruptly and gaped with mouths hanging open and eyes blown wide. Several things happened at once: Utahime dropped the cake, and with a high-pitched cry, launched herself at Shoko. Satoru swooped down to save the cake. Maki and Mai both burst into tears and jumped onto the cot, climbing all over her clean, hospital sheets with their shoes still on.

Ah, some things never change.

“Oh, thank God, you’re awake!” Uta sobbed into her neck.

Her arm wound around Utahime, and with the other she dragged both her girls to her and let all three of them cry on her. Her cold hands burrowed in their warmth, and when she looked up, she found everyone else there too. Satoru was holding up her birthday cake with a massive grin, and Suguru had a couple gifts in each arm and a smile on his face that matched the genuine happiness in his dark eyes. Mimiko was wiping at her teary eyes and sniffing as she giggled, and Nanako was holding up her phone and snapping pictures with a grin that spoke of how often she’d been hanging around Satoru. Megumi had his arms crossed, but a smile had wormed its way onto his face, and Tsumiki was clutching onto his hoodie and bouncing up and down on her toes in her excitement.

“Good to see you finally awake,” Satoru snickered and held up the cake a little higher. “I know you hate sweets, so I got you the sweetest cake on the market. Figured the smell would force you awake just so you could chuck it at my head.”

Shoko snorted, but the laughter inside her chest bubbled up and out of her before she could stop it. The girls leaned back, and Utahime pulled away to wipe at her face.

“I missed you so much,” Mai sniffled. “I called to you while you were asleep, but you didn’t wake up.”

Her smile wobbled and her eyes grew hot as she tucked a strand of hair behind Mai’s ears. “I’m awake now,” she managed with a whisper. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Maki wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I thought you weren’t going to wake up. I thought you weren’t going to keep your promise.”

“What promise?”

“You promised you’d never leave me, remember?”

Evidently, she couldn’t break that promise even if she tried. She smiled and ruffled both their hair. “I’ll always come back to you guys, okay?”

Mai brought up her pinky finger. “Promise?” Maki lifted her pinky up too, and then Utahime shoved her own hand into the mix.

“You better promise me too, dang it all!” she cried indignantly.

Nanako and Mimiko ran forward and climbed up onto the edge of the cot and threw their own pinkies into the pile. “Us too! Promise us too!” Mimiko shouted.

“Yeah, don’t make Getou sad ever again!” Nanako demanded, but there was a big grin still on her face.

Getou snorted a laugh but walked over, shifted all the gifts into one arm, and extended his arm. He pushed his long pinky into her face teasingly, and Satoru—not to be outdone—hurried over still with the cake held high above his head. “Hey, don’t forget about me! I’ve been your friend the longest!”

“Have not!” Utahime snapped.

“Wait for us!” Tsumiki laughed, dragging her brother over by his hood. Despite his annoyed expression and rolling eyes, Megumi held out his pinky too.

Shoko blinked in astonishment. Her lip wobbled again, and a loud laugh burst forth as she lifted her once-broken pinky in the air for all to see. “Here, I promise all of you I’ll always come back to you guys.”

How many people care enough to come to your hospital room? How many call you, crying and thanking a higher power that you’re still alive?

Apparently a lot, she thought to herself over the sound of cheers.

“Now, time for cake!”

“Gojo, enough with the cake!”

“I’ll still be here when you come back,” Shoko said for what felt like the tenth time. “I promised this morning I wasn’t going anywhere, remember?”

Maki looked unconvinced, but Shoko was going to out-stubborn this eight year old for once. “But I just got you back.”

Nope. No. Your puppy eyes aren’t going to work on me this time. Not that Maki really did puppy eyes, but that wasn’t what was important here. “And you’ve got the rest of your life with me. I’m not compromising on this. Go eat.”

“Come on,” Suguru came forward and crouched down so he was on Maki’s level. “While the girls raid the dessert bar, I’ll show you the salad bar.”

At this, the girl looked intrigued but still somewhat skeptical. “A salad bar?” She hadn’t known there was a salad bar. The twins hadn’t left the room since Shoko was admitted, and it had been left up to one of the adults to come back with food for them. Over the course of the last week, Suguru must have learned that outside of sushi, Maki was a real health nut.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed with a nod. “All the veggies and greens you can imagine.”

Shoko snorted as Maki visibly wavered. Gojo was in the doorway acting as a human jungle gym for the other twins and Mai and making faces every time Getou said anything health-related. Megumi and Tsumiki had long since left for the cafeteria.

Suguru leaned forward and held up his hand, his voice dropping to a mere whisper. “They even have matsutake mushrooms.”

Her eyes widened briefly before she regained her look of composure and cleared her throat. “Fine then, let’s go.” She didn’t even look back in Shoko’s direction as she left, and Shoko held back the urge to tease the girl that she was walking a little fast out of the room. Suguru sent her a sly smile as he followed behind her, and with that, it was just Shoko and Utahime.

The toilet flushed in the bathroom, and Uta came out shortly after drying her hands. She peered around the room with surprise. “Everybody left?”

Shoko leaned back against her raised bed with a big sigh. “Finally.”

Utahime suddenly scampered across the room and started rifling through her backpack. “Good! I didn’t think I was going to get any alone time with you today.”

Curious, Shoko sat up and tried to peer over her friend’s hunched form to see what she was doing. Her eyebrows rose when the shrine maiden turned around with two tallboys in each hand. “Seriously? You brought beer into a hospital?”

“Shh!” she hushed and looked around as if a nurse was about to pop out and yell “gotcha!” Shoko rolled her eyes, but her smile was amused as she watched Uta rush over to the storage cabinets and pull out two Styrofoam cups and pour the beer in before she disposed of the evidence in the trash—burying it under the heap of paper plates with rainbow frosting still smeared on the edges.

She then ran over and handed Shoko her beer. “Cheers, birthday girl,” she snickered before toasting her.

Shoko chuckled and bumped her cup against Uta’s. “Cheers.” She took a slow sip and sighed. Bold, dark, and bitter. The perfect drink to get rid of that crappy frosting aftertaste that stubbornly lingered even hours later. Satoru was lucky she didn’t end up chucking that sugar monstrosity at his head regardless if she was already awake or not. “Thanks, Uta,” she muttered after another sip.

The sorcerer shrugged as her eyes drifted from the cup to outside. “It’s the least I could do … I’m just glad you woke up in time to celebrate.”

Shoko nodded. “I’m glad I woke up at all.”

She realized too little too late she shouldn’t have said that. A heavy, awkward silence blanketed the room. It was one even she couldn’t ignore. Before she could dispel the tension, Utahime spoke up.

“You know, I can only enjoy about one of these a week now,” she said, pulling the cup away to stare at its amber contents. “The doctor said when he did a full body scan, my right kidney was about the size of a lima bean.” She looked up at Shoko with a deadpan stare. “Try explaining that on the spot when there’s a massive, curved scar there that somehow looks like it’s been healed for a few months.”

Shoko blinked in astonishment before her eyes slid away to stare at the off-white wall in front of her. “I knew I hadn’t completely fixed you. I can heal that, Uta—”

Utahime held up a hand. “Don’t. I don’t want you to.”

Shoko frowned and found her friend’s gaze once more. “If this is about my condition—”

“Don’t start with me about your condition, Shoko. Gojo already told me about how you nearly killed yourself bringing me back to life!”

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

“Did our previous conversation mean nothing to you? I told you to live on for Maki and Mai’s sake!”

“What about for my sake?” Shoko fired off, and the room became quiet once again. She looked away out of shame upon seeing Utahime’s startled expression and set her cup down on the hospital tray. She’d lost her appetite. “I lose everyone,” she said after a moment. “I lost my parents, I lost Yu, I lost Fujiwara, I lost Suguru—and even though I have him back, I still lost him for a long time, and I didn’t think I was ever going to get him back. I thought I was going to lose Satoru for a bit after Suguru defected. I see everyone I’ve ever known come to me in a body bag so that I can examine them, dissect them, store them away, and then cremate them. So, forgive me for not wanting to see one of my best friends on my gurney.”

The quiet lingered, and for a moment she thought that was going to be it. She should have known better. Utahime’s voice was gentle, but it still cut through Shoko like a knife. “Did you ever stop to think what Maki and Mai would go through if they saw your body on a gurney?”

She got as far as imagining their broken expressions before her vision blurred and a horrible tightness washed over her chest. She shook her head as a tear escaped, and Utahime was crawling onto her cot and placing her arm around her shoulders just as a sob escaped her. She pulled that arm around her—the arm she had regrown with her own two hands—and tried to collect herself.

Should she regret what she did? How could she think that when the person she risked her own life for was huddled beside her, holding her close? But what if she had died? What if Maki and Mai lost yet another person? What would that have done to them, mentally and emotionally? There was an odd sense of numbness that came with all the thoughts now swirling about in her head.

She took in a deep breath and cleared those thoughts away. She knew she shouldn't have done what she did, but she was glad she did it all the same. The outcome was what mattered. She was alive. Utahime was alive. Maki and Mai were safe.

She felt the first few waves of calm wash over her, and she sighed out the tension in her shoulders. She squeezed Uta's arm and nodded that she was okay, and the woman gave her a warm smile and squeezed her back.

“Here, I just texted Gojo. Let’s watch a movie.”

Shoko didn’t understand the relevance of texting Gojo and watching a movie, but she said nothing as Uta leaned over her and reached for the remote.

“There are always movies playing on that one channel. Oldies, but that’s what makes them good.”

Shoko snorted and settled back into Uta’s side. “You’re just saying that because you like all things that are old.”

“Of course!”

For a while, Shoko watched more channel-flipping than any actual movie, but the companionable silence (and sometimes frustrated cursing caused by the delayed TV sensor) slowly but surely brought her back down from her emotional high.

Later, when the kids should have come back but were still strangely absent, both of them were huddled together under the cot’s blanket and watching some 90s’ rom-com Utahime had finally settled on. Shoko’s head hurt, but she wasn’t going to try and use her RCT for something so small. Not when she’d almost burnt out her cursed energy reserve the other day—week, whatever.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Utahime said all of a sudden just as the two main characters embraced each other passionately five minutes after they’d stupidly fought over what they’d wanted to eat.

“What?” Shoko murmured, face pressed into the arm propping her up. The two main characters were horrible, sloppy kissers, and she briefly wondered if that was what she and Suguru looked like.

Uta was quiet for a moment, and her voice was subdued when she spoke up. “How did you bring me back to life?”

Shoko continued to stare at the television, though she’d stopped paying attention to the movie. Flashes of Utahime laid out on the ground, blood pooling around her, sent a ball of dread dropping into her stomach like stone. She blinked past the images and sat up. Utahime sat up as well and muted the TV as the couple began to fight with each other yet again.

“I remembered something,” she said after mulling over her thoughts. “I told you how I came to the school, right?”

Utahime nodded, and a slow smile spread over her face. “You healed my broken arm day one. I’d never seen Gojo at a loss for words before.”

“Well, my uncle was the one who dropped me off. He was talking to me the whole trip … and … well …”

“You know where we’re going right?”

“Mm,” Shoko hummed as she watched the city buildings pass by. Head pressed against the glass, she hadn’t even gathered the energy to look up. Tokyo was so big. And ugly.

“It’s a school for people who can do what you do.”

“Mm,” she hummed again.

“Well, no one can do what you do. Throughout the entire Okada bloodline, only two or three of us ever mastered using RCT on other people.”

Shoko wasn’t listening. She didn’t know what this man was blabbering about. All she knew was that while dad was led away screaming in handcuffs, this guy showed up claiming to be her uncle. Police asked a few questions and then left her all alone with this stranger.

“I mean, it’s the whole reason we’ve stayed in the shadows. After headquarters got their hands on your great-great-great—uh, how many greats is that? Anyway, great-something-or-other-grandfather, they worked him into an early grave. But don’t worry! I’m sure they’re not like that anymore. Actually … they’re probably still gonna work you half to death, but hey, job security, am I right?”

“Mm.” Maybe if she actually said something, this guy would shut the hell up. She sighed. Too much effort. The city was thinning out, and before long, she saw trees.

“Look, I just can’t take in a kid at the moment. Your mom’s a mess right now, but don’t worry. You’ll totally make lots of friends. I mean, can you imagine what they’re gonna say when they realize you can heal other people? That you can bring the dead back to life—actually, probably best not to tell them that. You know, since you die in the process and all.”

That was all Shoko could recall of the memory before Utahime’s eyes had blown wide and she had started shouting. “You were supposed to die!” She reared back and began slapping Shoko’s arm.

Shoko held up her hands to fend off the attack, but her sudden laughter only seemed to make Utahime angrier. “Stop assaulting the patient or I’m telling the doctor you snuck in beer!”

“How can you laugh about something like this!” she shrieked. “You’re supposed to be dead because of what you did!”

Shoko caught her wrists and met her big, dark eyes with a smile. “But I’m not.”

Utahime glared at her for another moment before relenting and sitting back. “Thanks to Getou. You’re lucky.” She pursed her lips and looked away, but it was obvious she was recalling what Shoko had said. “And you never looked into your bloodline? That seems like a technique that would have been documented extensively.”

Shoko hummed and nestled back into the uncomfortable, lumpy cot. “I did. Hid the archived registers in between my osteology and cytology textbooks, but Okada never came up. I stopped caring after Yaga told me mom died, and then I never picked it back up.”

Utahime appeared uncomfortable all of a sudden, and her eyes shifted around the room. Shoko looked away. Speaking of death probably wasn’t going to be a comfortable topic—as comfortable as it could be—for quite a while. Before the silence could get too awkward, the door burst open and the children filed in.

“Where were you guys?” Shoko asked in surprise. Utahime slid off the bed, and Maki and Mai immediately took her place and wrapped their tiny arms all over Shoko like mini-octopi. They were sweaty and huffing like they’d just ran a race.

“There’s a park nearby,” Suguru answered as Gojo lounged back into the sofa while the rest of the kids flopped onto the other cot or right beside him. “We thought it would be a good idea to get some pent up energy out.”

Satoru had a bored expression that only seemed more severe by the bandages over his eyes. “I offered to train them, but I didn’t think I’d have to deal with anyone weaker than Utah—”

Utahime had already taken her old beer cup and hurled it at the man, but he was quicker with Infinity. The liquid splashed all over the sofa and floor … just as the doctor walked in.

Everyone in the room (except Gojo) stared at the man who stood there gaping back at them. “I’ll, uh, I’ll come back later.” When he hurriedly slammed the door shut behind him, no one immediately spoke up.

Then Gojo sniffed, and a slow, teasing smirk spread across his face. “Hime-chan, what was in that cup?”

Utahime’s face was as red as her hakama. Her eyes darted to all the children in the room. “It’s … it’s not what you think it is, okay?”

“Hime-chan! How could you bring bee—”

“I SAID IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS!”

Shoko was discharged the next week. She’d needed to remain under supervision for a few days, and countless tests and blood work were scheduled. No rehabilitation was necessary since the coma had only lasted a few days—and thank the heavens for that. As a doctor herself, Shoko made for a terrible patient and nearly got her visitor privileges revoked when she threatened to shove a scalpel right up her nurse’s … well, it wasn’t a surprise when the hospital staff cheered after their obligatory sendoff.

Satoru was at the hotel checking everyone out and preparing train tickets for the whole group. Utahime had had to leave late on Shoko’s birthday to catch the last train out to Kyoto so she could make it to her morning classes. The next time they would be able to see her would most likely be for winter break.

Suguru walked beside her in a simple, button-up shirt and a pair of high-waisted, baggy black trousers that sent Shoko on a rollercoaster ride of nostalgia. If she had to guess, they were most likely his old high school uniform pants. She’d dug through her own suitcase until she found something comfy for the chilly Nagoya weather. Nothing like Hokkaido, but the gray skies and biting wind had her yearning for a warm kotatsu to snuggle up under.

At least her hands were warm with plenty of people vying for them. Maki and Mai had beaten Suguru to the punch and now held each of her hands as they walked through the town on the way to the hotel.

“I’m glad we didn’t keep the kids at the estate,” she said as they walked by Tsuruma Park. Mai kept trying to peer over the tall, green hedges of the retaining wall, but she couldn’t see much of the park at her height. “I think I would have missed you guys if we had.”

“You would have,” Maki said matter-of-factly.

Suguru shrugged, his gait leisure so he wouldn’t out-walk them all. “That was the plan, but when Utahime’s mom heard about what happened, she tried to leave in a rush. The kids overheard and ganged up on her, saying they wouldn’t let her leave until they got to come with.”

Shoko narrowed her eyes down at Maki—no doubt one of the leaders of this mutinous operation, but the eight year old calmly met her gaze head on. She relented with a sigh and shook her head.

“Can’t even be mad. It was nice to see you guys on my birthday. Past couple years it’s just been Satoru and me if Uta can’t get away from her studies.”

“We could celebrate now that you’re free?” he offered.

“Nah, one birthday cake is enough for me—”

Mai suddenly froze, and Shoko felt the tug on her hand. She peered down to see her fear-stricken face. Her little grip tightened on Shoko’s fingers, and her eyes had rounded like small moons.

“What is it?” Maki asked curiously before realizing they’d stopped because of her sister. She sighed. “Seriously, Mai, how can you be scared of a curse when we have Shoko and Getou here?”

Mai dropped Shoko’s fingers and dipped behind her for cover. “You can’t even see them!” she whined. “You don’t know how terrifying it is!”

Shoko looked up to find a hairless, monkey-like toad clinging to one of the light poles and staring down at them with its square, black eyes. “It is a little freaky looking,” she admitted as it tilted its head at an unnatural angle. Nothing she hadn’t seen before, though.

“I think it looks kind of cute,” Suguru said with a teasing smile.

“If you think that’s cute, what are you trying to say about me?”

His smile dropped. “I, uh—”

It was her turn to smile. “What’s wrong? Curse got your tongue?”

Maki sighed beside them and tugged on Shoko’s hand. “Can we go now?”

“I want to cross the street,” Mai cried, tugging on Shoko’s clothing. Shoko groaned as each twin pulled her in two different directions.

“Here, I’ll take care of it,” Suguru volunteered. He brought his arm up, ready to peel the curse off the pole with his technique, but he paused. His eyes lit up, and he peered down at Maki. “Would you like to see it before I do?”

She leveled him with a flat glare. “Is that supposed to be a joke? It’s not funny.”

He merely smiled as he reached into his pants’ deep pockets. “I keep forgetting to give you these,” was all he said and popped open a hard case. He plucked out a pair of round glasses, careful not to touch the lenses, and held them out to her.

Maki eyed them suspiciously. “What are these?”

“What do they look like?” he teased, smile never wavering.

Shoko’s heart squeezed in her chest, and a breathless smile spread across her face. “Did you really make her a pair of glasses?”

He shrugged. “I overheard someone talking about how they were going to train hard enough that you would never have to rely on Gojo to save you. I figured we had a common goal—I certainly don’t want you relying on Gojo.”

She rolled her eyes with a snort and watched Maki stare back and forth between the two of them before snatching the glasses out of his grasp. She shoved them onto her face—not the least bit graceful—and whirled around to find the curse. Her jaw dropped with a gasp, but instead of being terrified, she whipped around to stare up at Shoko.

“I can see it!” she shouted happily, pointing at it erratically despite passersby all turning to see what the commotion was. Shoko didn’t bother stopping her. Let them look crazy. This was one of those core memories Maki would hold onto for the rest of her life. Her first time seeing a cursed spirit. Shoko’s heart felt as if it were about to burst.

Maki couldn’t stop staring at the curse. Her eyes were so bright. She spun and crashed into Suguru, hugging him around the waist before she could stop herself. It was only for a second, and once she’d realized what she’d done, she hurriedly stumbled back and brought her hands behind her. Her face was as red as a tomato. “Uh—t-thanks. For the, uh, glasses.”

He dropped down into a crouch before her and ruffled her hair, snickering when her embarrassed face turned into one of sharp annoyance. “Want to watch me exorcise it?”

Her eyes lit up again, and Shoko would never get tired of the way they shined. “Yeah!”

When the curse was nothing more than a colorful ball of cursed energy in the palm of his hand, she watched as both twins gravitated toward him as he described his technique and what he could do. How the curses in his control were docile, tame, and wouldn’t hurt them. It had even Mai brave enough to touch the orb, and Shoko knew then and there that the awkward rift between the three of them had finally, truly, disappeared.

Chapter Text

Despite Suguru’s heroic deeds during the battle against the corrupt higher ups, the ban preventing him from coming onto Jujutsu High’s campus (and therefore any other jujutsu-related campus) remained in effect until the new council passed down a verdict on his past crimes. Regardless if Shoko believed his actions against the villagers were justified, she knew—logically—that killing a bunch of regular humans hadn’t been the right move to make. Even if he admitted to having a mental breakdown at the village, there were still his parents to consider.

The verdict wasn’t a priority at the moment as jujutsu society had been essentially turned on its head. There was still a lot of cleanup to undergo, so the new higher ups had put off his hearing until the following month. Until then, Yaga had allowed them to use the abandoned buildings at the base of the mountain—outside Tengen’s barrier and thus outside Jujutsu High’s campus.

Megumi and Tsumiki had been moved into the dorms temporarily. They would still need to attend a regular school until they were old enough to attend Jujutsu High, but for now they got to roam the same halls Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru roamed as first years.

Currently, Shoko was roaming them now trying to find jujutsu society’s strongest, most obnoxious sorcerer. He’d texted her earlier, but he hadn’t specified where to meet up.

^{meet me in the dorms Received 9:24 AM}

^{Eating right now. Be up in a bit. Sent 9:25 AM}

^{Hurry up. I need to show you something Received 9:25 AM}

^{? Sent 9:25 AM}

He hadn’t texted her back which was a little concerning, and it had gotten her to finish up her breakfast with Suguru and the kids and head out the door before the girls could ask too many questions.

She’d already checked the male dorms, so now she was doubling back to her own room—the one she hadn’t used in over a month. Eventually, she was also going to have to don her lab coat and tackle more than a month’s worth of paperwork piling up in her office, but Yaga was nice enough to let her settle back in until Thursday.

She saw Satoru leaning up against her dorm door. He stood up straight and waved to her with a casual, “Yo!”

“Whatever you needed to show me, it couldn’t wait?” she huffed. She was a little put off by the weird text messages, but he seemed fine right now.

He shook his head. “Nah. It’s gettin’ too expensive to feed, and the higher ups are breathing down my neck about it. Now that my old man’s on the council, he thinks he can throw his weight around. Should’ve learned that wouldn’t work back when I was a kid,” he mumbled the last part and was already stalking off toward the stairs leading out of the building.

Shoko’s brow pinched in confusion at his words, but she followed him without comment. Outside, the wind had picked up, and the sky was nearly perpetually gray these days. Snow clouds rolled over the metropolitan prefecture, but they probably wouldn’t see any actual snow for many more weeks.

Neither spoke a word as they strolled through the campus until the buildings became scarce and far and few in between. They were approaching Tengen’s border, and Shoko wondered just what the hell Satoru was keeping from her. Her mind conjured up some weird, high-grade curse locked in a basement that Satoru thought might have been fun to keep as a pet. She wouldn’t put it past him.

It wasn’t. In fact, it was much worse.

When they arrived at one of the last outlying buildings on campus, they stepped into a small room lit with hundreds of candles and walls plastered with thousands of talismans. In the center of the room, tied to a chair, was her mother.

“Shoko?” The woman’s frail voice cracked upon seeing her. Her eyes shined in the firelight with unshed tears.

It was like she was watching a movie scene play out. Her roiling emotions were muffled, held back by a thick curtain of shock. Absently, she felt her teeth tingling in her mouth as her vision wavered. She felt lightheaded. Her fingers were numb and cold. She wasn’t in control of her calm breathing, nor was she in control of her legs that moved across the space until she stood in front of the woman who appeared like an older version of herself.

“Shoko,” Ayuka whispered through dry, cracked lips. “You’ve grown so much.”

“Why do you have my mother locked up in a room?” she asked tonelessly. Her gaze drifted over her mother’s shiny eyes, her beauty mark, her flat hair. Down it traveled, following the lines of her thin arms held back by blessed ropes.

Satoru was leaning against the door to the room with his arms crossed over his chest. A deep frown marred his face, and his tone was just as severe. “She was one of the six Jujutsu Lieutenants that made up the council.”

Shoko nodded at the information, yet she made no move to close the distance between herself and Ayuka. “We don’t hail from any of the Three Big Sorcerer Families though.”

“Neither did Ogawa Akio. He got elected because his wife was Zenin. Naobito’s grandmother or whatever. Doesn’t make sense to me, but that’s politics.”

“You’re wrong,” Ayuka finally spoke up. It looked like it took every ounce of effort for her to speak. “The Okada Clan was bigger than any of the big clans today, but several hundred years ago, our name was buried. Jujutsu Headquarters kept us under lock and key like prisoners. We were never strong, but our inherited technique allowed us to master reversed cursed energy and use it to heal others.”

Shoko’s gaze had drifted to the floor. Her face was placid like a doll’s, her eyes vacant of the emotions that had bloomed and developed through every trial and tribulation she’d faced over the last month. She felt them freeze over in the face of this bitter cold reality, shrivel, and die.

“Why would they need to bury the Okada bloodline?” Satoru queried from the back of the room when it was clear Shoko wasn’t going to ask.

“Control,” Shoko ended up saying quietly. “If our only strength was in healing others, then we wouldn’t have been able to fight back against our oppressors. We would have been forced into the roles of doctors.”

“Yes!” Ayuka cried hoarsely. “Shoko, you understand! That’s why I agreed to become the sixth member!”

“And when was this?” Satoru snipped, hand gesturing in the air. Shoko could feel the tension in the room building, but it was like she was immune to it. “Jujutsu sorcerers should have been alerted to a new higher up.”

Ayuka shook her head. “That would have undone our secrecy. If anyone knew of the Okadas, our techniques could have been exploited.” The tears in her eyes finally fell, and Shoko watched them drop like stars, and she wished upon each one of them for this moment in time to cease existing. “My whereabouts were found out a decade ago, and even though I was sometimes able to escape, they always dragged me back.” Her voice grew shaky, desperate. “Luckily, I was able to keep Shoko a secret. No matter how many times they found me, they never knew about Shoko. The last time they found me, I was imprisoned for a year. They were going to marry me off to the Kamo Clan to continue the bloodline, but the last higher up, Gojo Takauji, died of a heart attack. That was several years ago.”

Satoru tipped his head to the side. “Never heard of him.”

She shook her head. “He would have been your great grandfather. A powerful man. Before the higher ups could replace him, though, I stepped forward and asked to join the council.”

Satoru whistled. “You went from prisoner to executioner in a single day. Yet you couldn’t even protect your own daughter from your abusive husband.”

Ayuka lunged forward, but the ropes held her back. “I did protect her!” she screamed, thrashing in her bonds. “It’s not like I was in control of my own life! I just exchanged one set of shackles for another! I told them about Shoko, and I got the police to our house within minutes! I told my brother to take her in, but the bastard didn’t care about responsibility or family, so I told him to just drop her off at the school. You’d be protected, Shoko, I promise it was all for your good!”

Shoko looked back at Satoru and noticed his clenched jaw. “You seem upset.”

The tension immediately melted away from the sorcerer, and he laughed airily. “Me? No way! I’ve never been better! I’m just waiting for the show to get to the good part.”

Ayuka continued to thrash, but Shoko ignored her. “‘Good part’?”

“Oh yeah,” he went on, waving his hand about in the air. “You know, the part where she explains her role in the human experimentation projects.”

“I told you!” she yelled. “I did it for Shoko!” She stopped thrashing abruptly, and her smile looked wild. “I could care less about recreating another Toji. In fact, I’d hoped it would backfire in their faces and the new Toji would kill them all! As soon as I found out what they were doing, I proposed another project! Experiment with sorcerer children and recreate the Okada bloodline. Our inherited technique is just reversed cursed energy that can be applied to others and heal people! If I could unlock that technique in others, the Okadas could live out of the shadows! We wouldn’t be the only healers! Shoko wouldn’t have to live her entire life under headquarters’ thumb!”

Satoru was back to his usual apathetic, unimpressed whimsy. “You kill a bunch of kids just to turn around and create someone who can heal others?” He hummed loudly as if unimpressed with the monstrous scheme. “What would you call that, Shoko? Ironic? Hypocritical?”

“Paradoxical,” Shoko murmured.

“Ooh! I like that. One hundred points for big-brain Shoko, ladies and gents!”

Ayuka snapped, and her face twisted into an ugly sneer. “You don’t get it! You’ve never had to hide just to live! You’re so used to being the center of the universe, Gojo Satoru, that you can’t see any of those cast in your shadow! I could care less about the children in these camps—all I cared about was my child! All I wanted was the end result! I couldn't even file a police report against my husband when he abused us because my name would have immediately been put down in the records, and the higher ups would have found Shoko! I was so close too! I almost completed the project in this little slum of a village years back, but a sorcerer had to storm in and ruin everything! Burned the whole village to the ground!” She screamed then, throwing her head forward in her fury as she yanked against the ropes, “I WAS SO CLOSE!”

Both Shoko and Satoru froze at her words. Shoko didn’t move a muscle as Satoru stormed forward at once. He dropped to a crouch and grabbed Ayuka around the throat. She choked hoarsely as he forced her back against the chair and pushed her head up. “Explain.” His voice was like ice. Shoko couldn’t even look at him. The fact the Six Eyes hadn’t been released on them all was nothing short of a miracle.

Her words came out garbled, and Satoru eased the tight grip around her throat minutely. She gasped for air and coughed, but when she took too long, his fingers flexed dangerously. “Okay, okay! I’ll talk! What part do I need to ex—”

“The village,” he snapped. “Tell us everything.” He stepped back, invading Shoko’s space. Instead of the sheer cold she thought would be wafting off him, he was as hot as a miniature sun. She said nothing.

Ayuka’s voice was strangled and coarse, but she told them everything. “The village was about half a mile from Hiroshima City. Now the entire place is a parking lot for a mall. Years before that, I was paying off the village leader to conduct experiments on these twins. The other higher ups had found them first, but the girls had too much cursed energy individually to be Heavenly Restricted, so I took them on for my own experiments. I was so close to making a breakthrough when Getou Suguru burned the whole place to the ground.” She shuddered visibly with emotion like a leaf trembling in the storm. “I was so angry I had him labeled as a curse user and expelled from the school instantly. The others didn’t take much convincing. After all, separating the two strongest sorcerers was ideal in taking down Gojo. What I didn’t expect was for that bastard to take the girls with him, though. All my hard work was gon—”

SLAP!

Shoko’s hand throbbed, the flesh stinging painfully. Blood dripped from Ayuka’s cracked lips, and a welt was already forming across her face. The woman’s eyes were wide in shock.

Shoko felt her entire body shiver with adrenalin. The feelings inside her had revived at the first mention of Suguru. As Ayuka spoke, the emotions began to sprout, then bloom, then grow until a jungle of vines were wrapped around her heart and overtaking every thought and action until she had reared back her hand and swung with all her might.

She could picture Mimiko and Nanako in her mind. Mimiko giggling shyly with her dolls. Nanako making funny faces into her camera and laughing obnoxiously at the results. Getou coming up behind them and scooping them both up with a mischievous smile and soft eyes. Like an audible snap in her mind, she saw the twins huddled together behind bars. Sunken eyes, sunken cheeks, dirty rags that couldn’t cover enough of the bruises and cuts all over their bodies. Suguru standing before them, a shriveled up version of himself with no energy left to give a damn.

The horrible abuse those girls suffered—the breaking point in Suguru’s defection—it was all because of her.

“What will happen to her now?” she asked after a long moment, her tone cool once again. It was only after a decade of masking that she was able to keep up a neutral face, a steady voice.

But, as soon as she walked out of here, she was going to break. She was going to scream, and cry, and beg Suguru and the twins for forgiveness. The poor guy wasn’t even going to know why, but he would soon. She would tell him everything, and then she was going to break all over again. She wouldn’t even blame him if he chose to walk away from her. This time when he left, she’d let him go.

Satoru was staring at her, but she couldn’t see what he was thinking by the bandages covering his eyes. “She’s going to be officially executed.” His voice, also, gave nothing away.

She nodded and turned for the door. She was done here.

“Shoko, wait!” Ayuka cried hoarsely, a sob tearing through her throat.

Shoko paused by the door, but she didn’t turn back around. “Are you coming, Satoru?”

He hummed. “I was gonna hang out here for a little bit. Why the rush, Shoko? Don’t have anything to say to mommy dearest?”

“Why would I? Ieiri Ayuka died April 11th, 2006. As a mortician, I follow a general rule of thumb.” She grabbed the handle and pushed open the door. Her eyes were already misting, but her voice remained strong. “You don’t talk to the dead.”

Shoko had made it all the way to the traditional-styled building Suguru had taken residence in before breaking down on him when he’d come to greet her at the door.

She’d told him everything through her tears, but what made her cry all the more was when he’d angrily stated he wasn’t leaving her.

“You stood by me at my worst, Shoko, what is that in comparison to what your mother did? You never even knew!”

“She did it for me, Suguru—”

“And I’ve done horrible things for Nanako and Mimiko.”

“But when the girls find out—”

“We’re going to wait to tell them until they’re old enough to understand. I’m not going to hide this from them, but right now they’re too young to grasp the reality of the situation.”

“... Okay.”

And that had been that. Life moved on. The weeks after that passed by in a blur. During the day, all six children would wander the campus and find things to get into. Shoko would put on her lab coat and wade through endless paperwork. All the sorcerers who had died on the 31st needed to be examined and cremated or embalmed. The bodies had been preserved from decomposition via cursed technique, but they were taking up valuable space in cold storage. She would clock out at 5 PM like a normal person and spend the evening with Getou and both sets of twins. Once she’d tucked Maki and Mai in bed in her dorm room, she’d come back and work until midnight-thirty, go to sleep, and wake up the next morning just to do it all over again.

It was monotonous. Ordinary. A stark contrast to how her life had been while escaping the Zenins.

The execution for Ieiri Ayuka occurred November 17th, the day after Shoko had visited her, but a public announcement was made about her two weeks later. The Okada Clan was finally dragged out of the shadows with Shoko as the only known descendant. Her uncle was as much of a phantom as the Blue Ghost had been. No one knew where he was, who he was, or what happened to him after Shoko showed up on the school grounds all those years ago. He was as good as dead, and that made Shoko all the more valuable.

It was the beginning of the new month when she’d walked into Suguru’s residence and found a tall stack of mail waiting for her on the brand new kotatsu. He’d fixed the place up nicely with new furniture and tatami mats throughout, and the rotting engawa wrapping around the home had been completely replaced. It was still too cold to sit outside, but it had given Suguru purpose as he awaited his hearing from the new higher ups.

“Yaga handed me those this morning,” he said as he walked in from the kitchen carrying a tray of plum wine. No cigarettes in sight, but that was okay. She hadn’t felt the itch for one in a while. “He said if he gave it to you, it’d get buried under all the infirmary paperwork.”

Shoko hummed as she tore into one of the envelopes. It was from the Inumaki Clan. Strange. She took the small cup Suguru offered her and sipped at its contents—only to spew it back out onto the letter.

Marriage offers. All of the letters were marriage offers.

News had spread like wildfire about the Okadas. A child with the reverse cursed technique—now unearthed to be known as Reverse Body Modification—was now as sought after as any other of the Big Three Sorcerer Family inherited techniques.

She threw every one of them into the trash. “I feel like some pedigree dog now,” she snapped at no one in particular. “My gift was already rare, but now that everyone knows it can be inherited, I’m some hot commodity.”

Suguru said nothing as he came up behind her. Just his presence alone was grounding. He didn’t touch her, and that was good. She needed space to breathe right now. She’d been on the move—on the run—for so long that now she felt trapped, caged like a bird. Just the thought of being coddled right now felt claustrophobic. She’d been feeling like this ever since that day with Ayuka. Everything had been just fine until that point. She could almost resent Satoru for dragging her down to see her, but she just couldn’t. She would have resented him more if he hadn’t.

“Let’s get out of here,” Suguru said softly, calmly.

“And go where?” She didn’t mean to bark at him, but she was so on edge. A cigarette would help, but her stomach churned at the thought.

“Let’s go see your father.”

She stilled, and everything around her stopped as well. Slowly, she turned around and met his dark gaze. Some might think it cruel for Suguru to bring up him at a moment like this. Some would even be right if it were anyone other than Shoko. She blinked in astonishment and found herself nodding. “Okay.”

“No matter what the higher ups decide, I’ve already been told I’m not headed for the gallows,” he continued, reaching forward and snagging a lock of her hair. “It’s nice having Satoru’s father on the council. Whatever punishment they come up with, it can wait until after we get back, and if we leave within the next few days, we’ll make it in time for Satoru’s birthday.”

He was so relaxed, so nonchalant. The way he leaned up against the pillar of the house, the way his eyes drifted over her every feature. Her shoulders slowly dropped, and it felt easier to breathe as she found herself relaxing in turn. She drifted forward and took him by the face, and it was only then that he seemed surprised, but that expression melted away when she brushed her lips against his and kissed him.

Fuchu Prison was one of the most well-known prisons in Japan. The prisoners were all male with some having had dealings with the yakuza or drug trafficking, and it was also where all the foreigners ended up. The building itself was enormous with most of its face being made up of tall windows. Suguru had made it as far as the covered entrance before being told only family was permitted.

He’d smiled at her and waved her to go on without him. “I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

Those words of encouragement were all she needed to get her to walk the rest of the way up to the front desk after security handed her back her bag. The reception officer behind the glass looked surprised upon hearing her father’s name come out of her mouth, but he’d simply told her to follow another guard down to the visitor center. Ieiri Bunto would be escorted in shortly.

The visitor center was filled with … children’s play furniture. Tables and chairs that looked like they belonged in an elementary school were spread out across the wide room. A few inmates were inside speaking with family members, and guards were posted around the perimeter of the room. She gingerly sat down at one table, and her knees came up to her chest.

When the door opened again, her father came walking in behind an officer. Head down, eyes cast to the floor.

Ieiri Bunto was now known as Number 1783. He did not respond to anything else. He took a seat across from her at the tiny table and stared at the cheap, faux wood grain. He had lost weight since she’d last seen him—or maybe he was always that skinny? His kind, brown eyes that had twisted over the years into ones filled with anger and hatred were empty. His black hair was turning silver in some spots, and the shaggy locks she remembered had been snipped short into a militaristic cut.

He looked so … frail. Sitting across from her now, she could blow him over with a few harsh words. It took all her pent up anxiety away, and it allowed her to breathe easier when she went to speak first.

“I saw Ayuka recently,” she began. The name caused him to flinch, but he said nothing. He wouldn’t, after all, not after he’d been trained to behave like a robot for the last several years. Backtalk, in any capacity, was beaten out of you week one. “She was ex—” she paused, knowing the man before her, a non-sorcerer, wouldn’t understand. “She was found trafficking children, so they gave her the death sentence.”

The muscles around his mouth twitched, yet he still wouldn’t look up at her. She was convinced he wasn’t going to say anything the entire time, so she went on to elaborate, but he cut her off. “I always knew she wasn’t right in the head.”

She leaned back, but the short chair dug into her lower back uncomfortably. “And what about you?”

He said nothing. His eyes remained glued to the plastic table.

Shoko swallowed the rage building in her chest. She’d be kicked out (or worse) if she caused a scene in a prison. Her tone was carefully controlled. “What’s your excuse? Are you also not right in the head?”

His eyes shifted, but he remained mute.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and with it, all the anger seeped out of her. “No, there’s nothing wrong with your head. You’re just a coward. You can’t even look at me.”

As if to challenge that statement, he briefly glanced up, but upon meeting her blank stare, his eyes immediately flicked away.

“You’re just as much a coward as you were back then. What did it feel like, taking your anger out on a little girl? On a feeble-minded woman like Ayuka?”

Bunto squeezed his eyes shut.

“Answer me, Number 1783.”

Like a switch had been flipped, he tensed up and brought his hands up onto the table where they clenched into tight fists. “You weren’t right. Just like your mother,” he gritted out as if the words pained him. “Said you could see things that weren’t there!” he hissed, voice barely above a whisper.

“I was seven.”

“You were just like her!”

“And your solution was to beat us until you broke bones?”

“You wouldn’t listen to me! Neither of you would listen to me!” he snarled. His face had twisted into something curse-like.

“Pipe down!” one of the guards snapped, and it was like watching a balloon deflate the way he seemed to shrink into himself.

Shoko’s gaze flicked down to his clenched fists, and she noticed something odd about one of his fingers. “What happened to your pinky? An officer take his anger out on you? How ironic.”

He was back to being mute.

“You know,” she continued ruthlessly, “I had a pinky just like that. Remember when you slammed the door on my fingers?” Her voice dropped. “Over and over and over and over again?” When he said nothing, she reached forward and gently placed her hand over his. He flinched, but other than that he remained as still as a statue. “I got mine fixed just recently, actually. I’d kept it as a reminder of sorts for a long time, but I’ve learned to move on over the last few weeks. A part of me wants to say I hope you never move on, that you remain in this hellhole for eternity, but then … I’d be just like you. So, I wish you the best instead.”

She retracted her hand, stood up, and left without another word. The man couldn’t even lift his head to watch her go, and before he knew it, he was alone. His gaze fell to where she had touched him gently, and his eyes widened. A guard soon came up behind him, barking at him to stand up and head back to his cell, but Bunto wasn’t listening. His whole body began to tremble as he stared down at his hand.

There, where his broken pinky should have been, was a completely healed finger.

Suguru was waiting for her by the entrance. Leaning up against the fence, he was staring up at the sky with what looked like a cigarette in his mouth. Shoko sighed upon seeing him, and it felt as if the more she walked toward him, the more the heavy weight of the prison was shed from her being.

“Sorry for the wait,” she said in greeting and offered a smile when he looked down at her. Upon closer inspection, what she thought was a cigarette was actually a lollipop.

He aimed her a smile of his own. “Don’t be. I was thoroughly entertained by the small curse I sent scurrying up a passing officer’s leg.”

Her expression flattened. “You’re a menace.”

He shrugged. “You knew that already.” He pushed off the fence, tossed his lollipop stick daringly onto the ground, and slung an arm around her shoulders. “So, how’d it go? I can always send a curse in there to torment him. Make him go crazy.” He twirled a finger around in the air by his ear, and Shoko swatted at him but couldn’t help the smile that resurfaced.

“Stop it. Honestly, you’re as bad as Gojo.”

“No one’s as bad as Gojo.”

“I feel like he’s somewhere sneezing right now.”

She looked up to find Suguru assessing her, but he only offered her another smile. “You hungry? There’s a steakhouse right around the corner. My treat?”

She slipped her fingers into the hand hanging off her shoulder and hummed. “Bit early for steak.”

“That’s just what’s nearby. If we go a little further into town, we’ll find something.”

“I feel weird,” she blurted suddenly. “I just talked to my dad, who I’ve been avoiding for years, and I don’t feel—I don’t know how to describe it.”

Suguru, always the best at keeping up with sudden topic changes, replied easily with, “It’s because you’re not the same person you once were.”

Shoko snorted. “I haven’t changed all that much.”

He pulled his hand away, and Shoko went to protest before she was being turned around to face him. “Shoko, you’re so different now that that man in there probably wouldn’t have known who you were if you didn’t look exactly like Ayuka. The Shoko I knew back in high school didn’t give a damn about kids, or school, or life for that matter. You tried to show the world you didn’t care so nothing could ever hurt you like your parents did. And now? Now they’re nothing, and you’re everything they thought you couldn’t be. You’ve changed, Shoko. I see it, Satoru sees it, Utahime sees it. Even the kids see it.”

It was odd hearing all these wonderful words of affirmation and feeling like she was going to throw up. Her heart beat so hard in her chest, and her face felt hot, and a lump had grown in her throat that hurt when she swallowed. “I didn’t know you were a therapist on the side,” she tried to deflect.

Suguru’s whole body sagged in exasperation, but his smile was amused. “Shoko—”

“Marry me.”

He stilled. His jaw then dropped, yet no words could come out. His eyes widened so much she knew it had to hurt. Suguru was a master at hiding his emotions. Rarely did she see him surprised, but never had she seen him downright flabbergasted. His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, hands falling away from her as he took a step back. “Shoko, don’t—” he sighed, seemingly frustrated all of a sudden. “Don’t ask me to marry you just to get rid of all those suitors—”

“I’m not.”

“And if this is about wanting to get rid of your last name, there’s other ways to—”

“I love you.”

She was as sure about that as she was about the girls. Both Satoru and Suguru may have always been beautiful, but she knew what little terrors they could be. Ironically, looks began to matter even less to her after meeting them. Still, she’d always find herself drifting toward the sensible Suguru, and when he’d left … it was like a vital part of her had gone with him. Having him back not only felt normal, it felt right. The way he slotted himself into her life, into Maki and Mai’s life, she couldn’t imagine living without him. If that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was.

The tension melted from every line on his face. She could feel it leave his shoulders where her fingers now rested. Twirling her finger in his long, dark hair, she aimed him a lopsided smirk. “And who said I was asking?”

Slowly, that boyish grin she loved so much stretched across his lips. “Where’s my ring then? You didn’t even get down on one knee.”

“I’ll get on my knees later,” she promised with a dry chuckle as she yanked him down for a kiss.

Chapter Text

Getou Suguru was sentenced to one year probation under the strict supervision of Jujutsu Headquarters. He was to report every move he made to Yaga, and he agreed to undertake a binding vow that would prohibit him from using his cursed energy during this time with the only exception being self-defense. Shackles in the form of black markings had wrapped around his wrists like tattoos, and Satoru had teased him endlessly that he now looked like the King of Curses depicted in stories.

The Star Religious Group—a.k.a. the Time Vessel Association—was officially disbanded, yet Suguru was allowed to keep his contacts under a second vow he put forward himself. During his probation sentence, he would uncover child-trafficking rings in the curse-user underworld. When he was a curse-user himself, he’d often heard of non-sorcerer children in experimentation camps that tried to target the part of the brain that was responsible for unlocking innate techniques in them. Sorcerer children were also being kidnapped or sold off for their “gifts.” Elusive as any underground activity, he hadn’t easily stumbled across them before. It would be different this time. The culprits would be unveiled, and they would be taken in. No killing allowed—unless, of course, it happened in self-defense.

But that was a lot of red tape to go through.

Higuruma Hiromi’s Judgeman would personally dole out the punishment should Suguru fail to keep his word. The sorcerer had been elected as the new council’s fair judge, and any trial that came before the higher ups would have to go through Higuruma. Jujutsu Headquarters no longer had complete authority to convict sorcerers for serious charges, and the power to execute a sorcerer was no longer one they wielded.

The only highlight to the entire situation—aside from not receiving the death penalty—was that the ban preventing Suguru from stepping onto jujutsu-related campuses had been lifted.

That meant birthdays could be celebrated anywhere.

“Surprise!” Tsumiki, Mai, Mimiko, and Nanako all shouted at the top of their lungs as Satoru walked into Jujutsu High’s cafeteria. Confetti cannons went off with loud pops! on either side of him, held up by Suguru and Shoko.

Satoru’s mouth dropped open, but he was quick to play it off cool with a cheesy grin. “Haha, so this is what you guys were up to! I was wondering why everyone was gathered in the lunchroom.”

Utahime rolled her eyes with a flat frown. “Oh please, you knew we were all—” Her eyes flicked toward the children all staring at her, then to Suguru who was silently telling her to shut the hell up in unofficial sign language. She cleared her throat. “I mean—surprise! Here’s your cake.” She shoved the white, overly large dessert into his arms. There were way too many candles shoved into the frosted top, and some of the icing was beginning to melt.

It was far from Gojo’s standard, but what else did you get a man who had everything, could do anything, could go anywhere? The answer: a homemade cake and hand-written birthday cards.

“I made it all by myself!” Tsumiki said in excitement, eyes large and anxious. “I hope you like it.”

“We also made you cards!” Mai chimed in, yanking on his fancy, button-up shirt. She held up hers, which was a badly drawn, cartoon cat wishing him a “purrfect” birthday.

Satoru knelt down and took the card from her, flipping it open and reading the inelegant, misspelled message on the inside. Hearts littered the page around a second cat who had sunglasses drawn on his face. The rest of the children shuffled in and showed off their own creations—except Megumi. He hadn’t gotten the memo and had bought a plain birthday card from the 100 yen store.

It was the thought that counted.

Shoko nudged Suguru as Satoru’s arms were loaded up more and more with gifts (that he clearly wouldn’t know what to do with) and cards as he tried to balance the cake in his hand. Utahime stood off to the side unhelpfully, not bothering to hide her evil snickering.

“You think he likes it?” she whispered, though she could already tell by the way his ears were glowing bright red.

“He’ll never admit how much it means to him,” he whispered back with a chuckle.

Satoru had loudly and obnoxiously arranged many lengthy, extroverted plans for Megumi’s birthday, much to the now eight year old’s horror. So, it was no surprise to anyone really when Gojo strode into the dorm room without even knocking the day of, only to find Megumi gone.

Utahime had called out sick at her university, rode an early train all the way to Tokyo, and had swooped in to save the boy before 7:30 in the morning.

“I’m a little busy right now!” Utahime hollered over the loud buzzers and alarms of the arcade. She was shooting at the zombies pouring into the base, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear, as Megumi provided backup from the 2D loft. “UGH—die already, you bastards!”

Shoko held the phone away from her ear and peered over at Gojo who was throwing open her closet doors before zipping over to her raised bed and looking under it. “Okay, well, text me when you get done. I think Satoru’s about lost all his marbles.”

“I know he’s in here somewhere,” the man was grumbling to himself. “Megumi, you can’t hide from me forever! We have to get ready to have dinner at the Kitcho Arashiyama! I’ve had reservations for months!”

“Will do! Don’t know when that’ll be! We’re arcade-hopping, so—Megumi, duck!—I don’t know, nine-ish?”

Shoko shrugged. “Okay, love you, take care.”

“Love you too! DON’T YOU BITE ME, YOU BASTARD!”

Shoko had spent the last month subtly asking what the twins wanted to do the most for their birthday (without letting them know it was for their birthday). Go back and visit Chiyo at the Iori Estate? Go and spend the day shopping at Gojo’s hotel? Have a girls day with Utahime and Mei Mei?

Leave it to Maki to catch on so quickly.

“I know what you’re doing,” she’d said bluntly as she stirred the pot Shoko had simmering on Suguru’s stove.

Shoko had only sighed and sipped at her iced coffee. She should have known.

“I don’t know what Mai wants to do, but … I just want to spend the day with you. Just you.”

And Mai had wanted the same thing—except, she’d wanted it at Gojo’s hotel.

“I want to go shopping,” Mai pleaded as they walked into the massive, opulent lobby. Despite wearing an outfit literally picked out in the hotel’s clothing store, Shoko still felt out of place.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if none of these big, important-looking people weren't all milling about. That thought led to another, and soon she was wondering if she could rent the whole place out for the wedding ceremony. She glanced down at the ring on her finger and smiled. A courthouse wedding had apparently not been good enough for Utahime, so despite already being married, Suguru and Shoko had spent the last month planning-not-actually-planning the ceremony.

“We should get a room first,” Maki stated and tugged on Shoko’s hand toward the reception desk. “That way they know what room to send the clothes up to right away.”

Shoko suddenly snickered, causing both girls to look up at her. “Maki, are you going to be able to ride the elevator this time?”

The nine year old sent her a positively filthy look.

With Suguru’s credit card this time, they picked out a garden-view penthouse suite before raiding the store’s wares once again. With a wide range of neutrals and blingy, colorful designs, both twins made out like bandits. Shoko even allowed herself to get a few shirts. The price at the checkout was nowhere near what it was last time, but it still had her heart sinking and her hand shaking when she went to swipe the card.

^{It’s fine, Shoko. Satoru’s not the only one with money. Received 1:22 PM}

^{Somehow I feel worse because it’s NOT Satoru’s money. Sent 1:23 PM}

^{Nanako spends that much a week on junk she doesn’t need. Trust me, you’re fine. Received 1:23 PM}

Well, that definitely made her feel a little better. It also made her wonder what the hell Nanako was buying every week.

With shopping out of the way, they headed up to their room, and the girls jumped on the giant, king sized bed the moment they walked in.

“Can we order sushi again for dinner?” Mai asked with a relaxed sigh as she melted into the bed—shoes still on her feet. Seriously, when were these kids going to learn?

“We can order whatever you want,” Shoko replied, already at the lux coffee bar. “We should walk around the gardens at some point, though. Satoru and I got to see them last time. They have a waterfall.”

“I’m too tired,” Maki sighed.

Shoko shrugged and turned around as her coffee began to squirt out of the machine. “We still have all day to do whatever you want. The gardens are prettier at night anyway.”

Mai pushed herself up onto her elbows. “‘All day’?”

Not understanding the significance of her question, Shoko nodded and went to retrieve her coffee. “Yeah. It’s your birthday. That means that whatever you want to do, we can do it. You only get one special day.”

She looked back to find both twins now staring at her. A heaviness had settled in the room, but before she could ask what was wrong, Maki and Mai jumped off the bed and ran over to her. She’d had enough time to quickly put down her coffee before they crashed into her.

“What’s gotten into you guys?” she asked and cupped the back of their heads as they buried their faces into her stomach.

“Every day we spend with you feels special,” Maki mumbled quietly. Her face was hidden, but just like Gojo, her ears were bright red when she was embarrassed.

Mai was funnily enough the braver one and lifted her head. Her soft, brown eyes were shiny. “We never had a birthday before.”

Shoko swallowed the lump in her throat at the images that sentence conjured, but she played it off with a smile. “Silly, you have a birthday every year. That’s how you get older.”

“But if you say birthdays are special days, then how could we have a birthday if we were never special?”

And that felt like a knife to the heart. She slowly crouched down until she could look up into their eyes. Maki’s face was red, but she was able to at least meet Shoko’s gaze.

“Listen to me,” she said gently. “You guys always had birthdays because you were always special. Even back then, and even right now. Just because someone else couldn’t see it doesn’t mean you’re both not incredibly special. Okay?”

Maki looked unconvinced, and Mai looked away.

Shoko sighed. “Do you think I’m special?”

Maki was the first to answer. “Of course. You heal people and can fight good.”

Leave it to Maki to determine one of the conditions for being special was the ability to “fight good.”

“Well, when I was a little girl your age, my father didn’t think I was special either.”

The twins looked aghast at this information. “Why?” Mai cried, expression absolutely betrayed.

“Because, just like the Zenins, he was stupid. He didn’t have any love in his heart. But, tell me this, did Youko ever do anything or saying on your birthday?”

Maki’s eyes watered at the mention of her name, but there was a look of concentration on her face as she thought. Then her eyes widened, and she looked back at Mai. “She did! Remember, Mai? She snuck a cookie from the kitchen that one time.”

Mai’s eyes widened as well. “Yeah! And that night she sang for us when all the elders went to sleep!”

“See?” Shoko said with a smile. “You guys were always special.”

Maki nodded, and Mai suddenly threw her arms around Shoko’s neck. “You too,” she mumbled into her hair. “You were always special, too. No matter what anyone else said!”

Maki took her hand and squeezed. Sitting there in that moment, feeling absolute love and adoration pouring out between the both of them, Shoko did feel special. She felt the most special she’d ever felt in her entire life.

Suguru’s birthday came without much fanfare despite everyone’s protests. He’d asked everyone not to get him a cake, presents, or even cards.

The weather had even seemed to respect his wishes for a duller day as more gray clouds rolled in overhead. It had snowed on and off in Tokyo the last few weeks, but the sun always came out the next day to keep it from sticking. It was still dreadfully cold though.

Bundled up under many layers, Shoko watched as Suguru knelt down in front of his parents’ graves. He’d brought flowers, cleaning supplies, and incense, and he’d immediately gotten to work tidying up the site.

“I don’t want to celebrate the day I was born when it’s only because of them that I’m alive in the first place,” he’d said earlier that morning. “I want to go visit them. Will you come with me?”

And so, she had. She watched him toil away at the headstones, cleaning them without a word. When all the grime had been scrubbed off, and the new Cosmos flowers were offered, and the incense was lit, Suguru turned and extended his hand. Shoko took it without comment, and then they were both kneeling before his parents.

The anxiety or fear someone else might have felt upon meeting their significant other’s parents wasn't present in Shoko. She was a firm believer that talking to a grave was just talking to a rock. Suguru’s parents weren’t here. If there was a heaven, then they were up there. But this wasn’t for her, and—if anything—she was glad Suguru was bowing to an inanimate stone and voicing his apologies. Closure was something he desperately needed.

“I know you might not want to see me ever again,” he began, and Shoko squeezed his fingers when he hesitated, “and I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you. I haven’t been here in a long time, and I’m sorry for that too. What happened that day—I have no excuses I can give you. But, I wanted you to know that I’ve changed. I can’t … I can’t ever atone for what I’ve done, but I’ve vowed to do a lot of good for a change.” He held up his wrists and showed off the black, binding marks with a wry grin. “I’ve even got the bracelets to prove it. I, um … I have two daughters now. They’re not—I rescued them a couple of years ago and adopted them. They’re so big now. I’ll show them to you next time, if you want me to come back.” When the graves didn’t respond, he took it as a sign to continue. He turned toward Shoko and smiled that boyish grin he reserved for just her and Satoru. “This is Shoko, by the way. You’ve met Satoru before, and I know you heard us talk about her. We’re getting married—well, we’re already married, but our friends want us to have a ceremony.”

Shoko felt awkward bowing to what was, in her mind, nothing, but she did it with a stiff smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you both. Don’t worry about your son. He’s a good guy now. Satoru and I dragged him back to reality, and he’s serious now about helping others—even non-sorcerers. He helped my daughters—also rescued and adopted, by the way—escape a horrible situation.” She leaned back and met his gaze, offering him one of her own rare smiles. “He’s in good hands now.”

They stayed for a little while longer chatting about everything and anything until the wind got too bitter and cold. With a final bow, they departed the cemetery and headed back home.

“I didn’t think you were the sentimental type,” Shoko commented as they walked up the steps to the house. “Talking to spirits and things like that.”

He shrugged, but there was a small smile on his face. “I used to not be. Thanks for playing along.”

Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t trying—”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “I know you don’t believe in that stuff, Shoko, but thank you for coming anyway. I think they liked you.”

“They better,” she said with a smirk and held up her hand where her ring glinted, “they’re stuck with me as an in-law forever.” She then grabbed the handle and pushed open the door. “Now, how about we go celebrate?”

His smile turned devious. “I like the way you thi—”

“SURPRISE!”

The lights came on, streamers popped off, and everyone surrounding the front door cheered as Suguru’s eyes widened. All the kids, Satoru, Yaga, Larue, Nanami, and Utahime were in attendance. Nanako and Mimiko both ran up to him, but it was the blonde who leapt into his arms with a giggle.

“Happy birthday, daddy!”

His bewildered expression vanished as Shoko chuckled and stepped backward into the crowd. “I may have group messaged everyone that we were in the clear for a surprise party.”

He gently set Nanako back down, and his expression was now guarded. “I thought I told everyone—”

“You did, we just didn’t listen,” Satoru replied with a grin.

Utahime nodded, arms crossed over her chest. “If your parents were good people, they would have already forgiven you. They wouldn’t want you mourning them on the day you should be celebrating the most.”

Shoko took him by the hand. “We can still visit them on your birthday if you want. And for their birthdays, and holidays, and the girls' birthdays—which are coming up in a month. You can introduce them then.”

Mimiko tugged on his pants. “Are we gonna meet our grandparents?”

He crouched down and gave them a smile. If there was a shine to his eyes, no one mentioned it as he said, “Yeah, it’s time you meet your grandparents.”

Nanako threw up her arms and cheered. “Whoo! Now it’s time for cake!”

And the moment was gone. As the adults burst into laughter and the kids scurried into the dining room, Shoko pulled Suguru back up to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s go celebrate before Satoru blows out your candles.”

He nodded hesitantly, lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah.” With a deep breath, he relaxed more and more. Yaga slapped him on the back, and Satoru was already yelling at him to hurry up or the cake was going to go bad.

Some things truly never changed.

Shoko groaned as she set down her lemon lager. “I can’t believe we’re doing this on your birthday.”

“Think of it as a birthday present to me then,” Utahime replied as she set down her own drink and flipped through the wedding dress catalogue. She had finally relented weeks ago and allowed Shoko to restore her right kidney, so now she was back to being a boozehound whenever she had time between studying and classes.

They were lounging on Utahime’s beat up, red sofa with a movie on the flat screen, something neither of them were paying attention to. Across the dining room table, several wedding magazines were spread out with highlighter tabs sticking out in many places. Between all the yays and nays over what would look good and what was “too pretentious,” they snacked on greasy fried chicken from the konbini around the corner.

“The wedding is still months away,” she countered. As much as Gojo wanted to drop everything and have the ceremony at the hotel as soon as Shoko had asked, the elders had put their foot down and said to at least give them a few months so the hotel wasn’t so booked full of ordinary humans. Shoko hadn’t cared one way or the other.

“These things sneak up on you before you know it! There's all these choices, and then when you finally do pick something, you have to go to all these fittings—”

Shoko groaned again. “But I don’t care. Isn’t it enough that we’re already married? Why do we even have to have a ceremony to begin with?” She was not looking forward to having everyone stare at her on her special day.

Utahime looked up and turned her head at an almost unnatural angle, and the look she gave Shoko was downright frightening. “It’s tradition.”

She merely rolled her eyes. “To hell with tradition. C’mon, let’s go do karaoke already.”

Utahime glanced at her watch and sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ve got to get back a little early tonight anyway.”

“Studying for a final?”

“No, Gojo’s—” Utahime froze, and Shoko whipped around to find the woman beet-red in the face. It wasn’t hard to draw a conclusion.

“You’re going on a date with Gojo?”

If possible, she turned even redder. “No! He’s just—you know, he’s just … taking me out to eat—”

“So, a date?”

“It’s not a date!”

Shoko mercilessly held up the wedding dress catalogue. “Were you looking at these for me or—”

Shoko didn’t even have time to finish that thought before Utahime was tackling her to the ground.

The following week leading up to Mimiko and Nanako’s birthday, Suguru had been absent. He’d been stuck in Osaka uncovering Kamagasaki’s local organized crime’s activity. His informants had unearthed sorcerer children being held ransom with some going missing completely.

Late into the night before, he’d crawled into Shoko’s bed only to receive a knife to the jugular. His quick reflexes kept him from having his throat slit, but the apology Shoko gave him ended up being well worth the trouble.

Shoko woke up the next morning to an ache in her back and the smell of sugar in the air. She practically lived at Suguru’s now, and with him being gone most days, she didn’t trust the Hasaba twins here by themselves. There was no more room in her dorm either, so now both sets of twins shared the only other bedroom in the house.

All four of them stumbled out of the room with sleep still clinging to their eyes just as Shoko came out of hers. They stopped and blinked in confusion when they noticed her similar state of undress. Nanako was the first to come to the realization that someone else had to be cooking in the kitchen, and with wide eyes, she bolted down the hall.

“Getou’s home!” she screamed.

The rest of the girls raced into the tiny, closet-sized kitchen, and Shoko stumbled over to the kotatsu. She could hear the shrieks clearly, but thankfully there was already a steaming cup of coffee waiting for her on the tabletop.

Breakfast was soufflé pancakes topped with berries and cream, omurice with cute cat designs drawn in ketchup, as well as ogura toast.

Nanako was counting on her fingers as she stuffed her face full of pancake. “We’re gonna go to the amusement park, and then the aquarium, and then we can go shopping, and then—”

Maki looked like she was two seconds away from passing out just thinking about it all, but Mimiko and Mai were getting more excited the longer she went on.

Suguru leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I tell them to pick the two they’re most excited for, and then by the time they’re done, they just want to take a nap.”

Shoko sipped at her coffee and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I knew you were smart.”

The new school year for all the kids began in April with no end in sight for a while. Maki and Mai were nervous wrecks, but they ended up sharing the class with Mimiko, so that was a plus. Nanako was all alone, but the extroverted girl had made plenty of friends day one.

Tsumiki’s birthday landed in the middle of the week, and rather than have her call out sick and play hooky, Satoru had had a better idea.

The girl walked into homeroom with her friends but stopped abruptly and stared in confusion at the scene before her. Every student in the room—even the teacher—was plastered up by the window and whispering excitedly to each other.

She glanced at her friends before all three of them scurried over to the other side of the room. “What’s going on?” she asked the nearest student.

Ema, one of the most popular girls in the whole school, rolled her eyes as if the question were stupid. “Can’t you see? There’s this gorgeous model standing outside next to a sports car!”

“I wonder who he’s here for,” Ema’s friend, Himari, sighed dreamily from the side.

“I wonder if I can get his number before he leaves,” Ema said and fluffed her shoulder-length hair.

Curious, Tsumiki peered out through the window down below. She couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. “Gojo?”

Everyone in the class stopped talking and whirled on her.

“Wait! Gojo?” Ema cried. “Like, the Gojo? The owner of Hotel New Gojo?”

There was a sudden knock on the room’s door, and a student aide casually peered through. “Fushiguro, your uncle’s here to pick you up.”

Tsumiki could feel the heat crawling up her face as everyone continued to stare at her. She stumbled over to her desk and hastily gathered her things. “Um, I—I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” she called to her friends over her shoulder as she raced out the door.

She made it all the way down to the front gate without anyone telling her to slow down. It seemed everyone at the school was in a trance now that Gojo Satoru had shown up. The man was leaning against the stone pillar by the entrance, and he flicked up his glasses upon seeing her.

“Tsumiki!” he called to her loudly. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her from the window and didn’t dare look up as she grabbed Satoru’s hand and yanked him over to the car. He went willingly, commenting idly about her surprising strength.

“What are you doing here?” she whined as soon as she shut the door.

Satoru leaned back in the plush leather of his Lexus LFA. “I’m here to pick you up. Where do you wanna go? You hungry? We could hop over to Larue’s if you want.”

Tsumiki didn’t care where they went as long as they got out of view of everyone she ever knew. “Just—Just drive already!” She couldn’t handle all the attention.

“Ah, you’re wanting a surprise! Got it! Sit tight!”

The supercar lunged into the street with the grace, speed, and power of a jungle cat. In no time they were in downtown Tokyo traffic.

“How am I going to explain this tomorrow?” she moaned from the passenger seat. “Everyone was staring, Gojo. I’m going to be all anyone’s talking about!”

“Just roll with it.”

Tsumiki looked up. His tone had softened, and his eyes were kind behind his sunglasses as he stared out into the busy lanes. “What?”

“The only time Megumi willingly talks to me is when it concerns you, Tsumiki. The little twerp’s been talkin’ about how you seem lonely lately. Even though you’re a nice person and all, you just get swept under the rug.” He finally looked over at her and grinned before reaching out his long arm and ruffling her hair. “No one I hang out with gets swept under the rug. It'd be bad for my image!”

"Your image?"

"Uh, yeah? I'm only the best, most coolest, most handsomest uncle in history. Everyone's gonna be jealous that you're related to the Gojo Satoru. You're gonna be so popular, you won't even know what to do with yourself. You're welcome, by the way."

Tsumiki felt her face heat once again, but a huge smile spread across her face before she could stop it. Gojo's arrogance had never once bothered her. It was endearing, even charming. This man had done more for her than either of her other two fathers combined, and—secretly—she would always think of him as her real dad. But being a dad wasn't something he was comfortable with, and it didn't matter to her one way or another, so, for now ... “Thank you, uncle Gojo.”

Chapter Text

The sounds of a cello began to play, filling the banquet room with deep, acoustic notes. Not long after, the piano accompanied it, and together the music swelled as Shoko stepped out onto the red carpet. Under the massive, twin chandeliers that twinkled and shined, she positively glowed.

She’d settled on a wedding with Western flair as it might be the only time she would ever see Suguru in a black suit and tie. Her own dress was ivory satin with a halter neckline and a straight, column silhouette that stopped just above the knee. Some simple, white pumps and a shoulder-length veil completed the elegant look.

Walking arm-in-arm with her was none other than Gojo Satoru. It had been a requirement of hers, knowing all the attention that would have been on her would now be—at the bare minimum—split between the two of them. The banquet room was massive, and all the major representatives from the bigger clans had been invited for political purposes. She’d been a bit peeved at that, but the jujutsu world was all about connections. Now, though, she felt her heart tripping up in her chest as strangers stared her down.

“Stop fidgeting and look like you’re actually happy to be getting married,” Satoru whispered under his breath while smiling wide and nodding at the crowd.

“I’m already married,” she hissed back, trying and failing to smile as she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

“I swear, you won’t see me acting like this on my wedding day.”

“Keep talking and you’ll be dead before you get the chance.”

Satoru sighed, but you wouldn’t be able to tell looking at him from the crowd. “Just ignore all these people. It’s not like they actually matter. Just look up.”

She did, and she immediately found Suguru’s warm gaze. She felt the tension leave her instantly, and she was smiling before she knew it. Of course Suguru looked absolutely dashing in a fitted suit and tie. His dark hair was pulled up into a neat bun with his signature bangs dangling by his sharp jaw. His grin was boyish and charming, bringing life to his sharp, onyx eyes.

Her gaze dropped to the five girls standing where bridesmaids should be. Each wore navy-blue dresses that belled out around their knees, and they were absolutely precious with their baskets full of flowers. Utahime was done up in full miko garb and donned a placid, professional facade despite how excited she had been this morning. She planned to dance the ceremonial ritual to please the gods after the priest read them the incantation that would lend Shoko and Suguru strength in their marriage. In their line of work, they would need all the strength they could get.

She stepped up onto the temporary dais and reached for Suguru’s hands. Her lips rolled to keep from laughing at how sweaty his were, and he struggled to keep his own laughter at bay.

The music slowly tapered off, and the ceremony began.

Later, after the vows were read and the beautiful ceremonial dance ended, after they mingled with clan elders and Gojo gave an inappropriate toast that had Shoko and Suguru cackling while everyone else stared in shock, after the cake was cut and Utahime threatened to shove Gojo’s head into it, and after Shoko and Suguru danced with each of their children, the bride and groom sat side by side at the back of the room and watched the party carry on without them.

“I don’t say this all the time,” Shoko said as she watched Satoru bow like a prince before a bashful Tsumiki and took her hand to dance, “but I’m really glad all this happened.”

Suguru leaned his head against her shoulder, and she brought her hand up to cup his jaw. “All of it?”

She hummed. Megumi was dancing with Nanako and getting annoyed at how often she stepped on his toes. Larue swooped in and stole the little girl away, and she giggled loudly for all to hear. “Maybe not everything, but … it’s not like we can go back and change anything. So, I’m glad that—after everything bad that’s happened—something good came from it all. If you hadn’t defected, you never would have been able to save Nanako and Mimiko. If the Zenins had never been horrible people, I wouldn’t have gotten to take in Maki and Mai.”

Suguru was quiet for a moment, and she knew he was thinking about her words. About the what ifs, about all the bad things that happened because of his defection, about how maybe he didn’t deserve this happiness after all. She knew him too well.

“Sometimes I can’t understand why I’ve been forgiven.”

And there it was.

“Your guilt is proof of your sin,” she said simply. “It’s enough.”

“The world might not agree.”

Shoko stared out at the crowd of people she could care less about. None of these people outside a select few cared about her and Suguru’s happiness, their future, or their past. Some might even still believe Getou Suguru deserved the death penalty. It irritated her to no end, and that was another reason she’d opted for a courthouse wedding. It had been just them, the children, Utahime, and Gojo—the way it should be.

“Why the hell should we care what the world thinks when the world has done nothing but shit on the three of us?” Her voice was soft so it wouldn’t carry, but her anger was evident enough in her tone. “Everyone’s quick to condemn but slow to forgive, but that’s the first thing they ask for when they fuck up.”

Suguru sat up and kissed her temple. “It’s different. I ki—”

“Yes, Suguru, you killed your parents—innocent people. You’ve said it yourself, that can’t be atoned for. Not in this life. But you also didn’t see them as people. Why? Because you snapped.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

She tilted her chin up stubbornly as she stared at him. “Then Satoru and I are just as bad as you.”

His mouth dropped open to refute her, but confusion clouded his expression. “What?”

“Remember the day Riko died? How Satoru held her in his arms and asked you if he should kill all those people? That he would feel nothing? He meant it. Why does he get off scot-free and you don’t?”

“Because he didn’t kill anyone.”

“Because you stopped him. You’re the person who stopped him from doing exactly what you did—but when you were in the same position, where was he to stop you?”

Suguru shook his head like he just couldn’t accept her words. “Yeah, well … he didn’t kill his parents.”

“He thought about it once.”

Again he paused. “… What?”

Shoko peered out at the crowd again. Larue was now dancing with Nanako and Mimiko at the same time. Utahime was red in the face as Satoru bowed to her for her turn on the floor, and Megumi had found a new dancing partner in his sister. Mai was dragging Yaga out to the floor with girlish giggles, and Maki was raiding the salad bar next to Mei Mei. The sorcerer was wearing the most glittery gown Shoko had ever seen with large, puffed sleeves. She watched everyone for a few more moments as she gathered her thoughts, but what she was going to say wasn’t going to be pretty either way.

“When you left, he told me a lot of things—things he probably shouldn’t have. It was the only time I’ve ever seen him drink, and it was one of the only times I’d ever seen him …” she swallowed and cleared her throat. “It was the only time I’ve seen him cry. He was so honest with me. More than I think he meant to be. It put everything into perspective, though. He’s one of the strongest sorcerers in history, Suguru. You don’t think that comes with a certain line of thinking no one else is brave enough to think out loud? He might not have ever been malicious, but there’s been times he’s absently thought of killing everyone—everyone—just because he could. With just a snap of his finger. He just fights it harder than you did.”

Another long, quiet moment passed between them as they watched everyone enjoy themselves. Eventually, Suguru leaned his head back against her shoulder, and she relaxed under his weight. “What’s stopping us from killing the ones we love then? If Satoru and I are so …?”

“‘Potentially deadly’?” Shoko hummed and reached for his hand resting on her thigh. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say mental stability.”

He snorted dryly. “Seriously?”

Shoko was nothing if not serious at that moment. “We were teenagers surrounded by constant death. You two should have never had that many high-class missions back to back. You guys never had a break.”

“Other sorcerers didn’t either, and they didn’t snap and kill a whole bunch of people.”

Shoko shook her head. “We’re not normal sorcerers. The three of us? We are set apart. You and Satoru are Special Grade—something that is so rare, there’s only one other person in the world on that scale right now. I come from the only bloodline of healers. That alone comes with enough weight and responsibility resting on our shoulders to crush normal sorcerers, but everything else they threw at us? The old higher ups knew how much of a boon we were to jujutsu society, and they took advantage of us until we cracked. You’re the only piece that fell off because we weren’t holding onto you tightly enough.” She squeezed his fingers and looked over at him. When he raised his head, she leaned in and pecked him on the lips. “But we won’t ever have to worry about that again, okay?”

He smiled at her. Maybe he still didn’t wholly believe her. Maybe he never would. Maybe he didn’t think he deserved a redemption, and maybe he would always think about everything he did wrong so long ago. But he leaned over and kissed her on the lips as he whispered, “Never again.”

Suguru stood in the shadows of the trees at the base of one of the many mountains outside the tiny town of Misasa. The prefecture was the least populous in all of Japan, and there were plenty of undocumented villages and towns tucked away in the mountains—literally. The air was heavy and sticky from the recent rain, and the earthy smells of the forest were even more pungent because of it. Even Suguru’s light, flowy attire was clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

“Keep your Divine Dogs at your side for protection, Megumi.”

As the black and white wolves snuffled at the ground around him, Megumi nodded without comment or complaint. His dark eyes were wide and curious as he stared up at the buildings embedded into the rock face. He’d been chosen this time around to go on one of Suguru’s special missions as part of his pre-training. The girls went with him more often when his leads led him into the city, but for a remote location, he was going to have to rely on Megumi’s shikigami to aid him.

It was no wonder Divine Dogs led them here. The village houses were not listed in the Statistics Bureau of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. And since the nationwide census had just been conducted last year, that meant these homes were brand new. Judging by their dilapidated state, they had been put up with haste.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s living in them,” Megumi observed quietly, surveying the land.

“That’s exactly why I know they’re occupied,” Suguru replied.

Megumi looked skeptical, but he shrugged. “Divine Dogs wouldn’t lead us here if it was empty.” They’d obtained an article of clothing from one of the missing children, and the scent had brought them forty miles away from their last sighted location.

“Exactly.”

Not wanting to waste any more time or daylight, he took off in the direction of the biggest house. If the children weren’t being kept there, it was at least where he’d find the ringleader of this operation. His footsteps were light, his movements quick. Before even a minute had passed, he had scaled the mountainside and stepped onto the wooden landing. The boards didn’t even creak under his weight as he neared the door.

The shackles on his wrists tingled as his cursed energy surged forward, wanting to be released in the form of curses that could easily wipe this village off the face of the earth. It was annoying and inconvenient at times, but he had long accepted these bindings. If anything, he had learned patience and restraint against non-sorcerers because of them. The flare ups he got when it came to normal humans were still there, but they were a little easier to deal with every time.

He could sense the makings of a trap the closer he neared the door, and he knew it was triggered with a cursed technique. A smile stretched across his lips. He might have grown more patient and subdued when it came to dealing with non-sorcerers, but in the name of self-defense, he had also grown a little … reckless.

After all, there was no limit to the curses he could use once his bindings fell away.

He reared back his leg and kicked the door down without any finesse, and the trap immediately detonated with a powerful cursed technique. He flash-stepped to the side where a Grade 1 was already standing behind him—a mirror spirit that absorbed whatever blow it was dealt and rebounded it.

The beam of blue cursed energy blasted onto the mirror and ricocheted back into the room instantly, and the floorboards at the back of the house exploded. High-pitched screams pierced the air, and Suguru winced. Maybe he’d been a little too reckless this time.

Several curse-users burst out of the surrounding shacks like cockroaches under a flame. They wielded crude weapons and bellowed their rage before leaping into the fray. Suguru took a step inside the building without a second look, yet a perfect copy of him remained rooted to the spot. Doppelgänger would take things from here; he needed to assess the situation in the main house with his own eyes.

What he did see when he stepped inside broke his heart. He had witnessed the same thing many, many times over the course of the last six months, but that didn’t make seeing children locked in floor-to-ceiling cages any easier. It brought back images of Nanako and Mimiko, only five years old, shivering and holding onto each other as their abusers hurled all their hatred at them.

Six children had been paired off into separate cages, and he recognized every one of them from the missing posters. They trembled as he neared them, but he aimed his warmest and most patient smile their way as he crouched down before one of the cages.

“Do you guys want to go home?” he asked softly. He’d learned that keywords like “home” or “parents” were often much better received than trying to introduce himself as the good guy.

A little boy with blunt bangs and big eyes sniffed and hastily nodded, and the little girl holding onto him for dear life kept pushing back her long, black hair as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. He glanced over at the other cages, and the children had crowded around the bars closest to him with newfound hope slowly outshining the lingering fear in their eyes.

“We can go home?” another little girl asked, lip trembling and fingers tightening around the bars.

He stood back up and nodded. “You’ll all be going back home. Some as quickly as tonight,” he promised. “And those bad guys will never be seen or heard from ever again.”

Sometimes children cheered—if they hadn’t been kept as experiments for too long. Sometimes they burst into tears and ran out of their cages to leap into his arms. Sometimes, like now, they waited with baited breath as if he still couldn’t be trusted. It always hurt no matter how they reacted.

His gaze fell to the lock on the cage door. Whoever was in charge of this place was paranoid—and rightfully so as Doppelgänger was handling the crowd outside with supreme ease. The lock was another trap, and only the user’s technique would disarm it. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle the lock—it was more of how he was going to accomplish this without terrifying or potentially harming the children. If he unleashed a curse into the room, they might scream in terror and he would lose their trust. If he used brute strength, it could backfire and kill the children if the user was sadistic enough. Which … the circumstances being what they were …

Best not to try.

A shadow fell over the threshold, and Suguru whirled on the person who had to be quick enough to get past Doppelgänger.

He deflated upon seeing Megumi. “I thought I told you to stay low,” he barked, tone severe. “You could have been killed!”

Megumi gestured to the two wolves at his side. The white one started sniffing at the ground and wagging its tail. “You said to keep Divine Dogs at my side for protection. You didn’t say I had to stay there.”

Suguru wiped a hand down his face with a sigh. “It should have been implied.”

“It sounded like you needed backup.”

“I never need backup, Megumi—especially not from an eight year old.”

He leveled Suguru a flat look. “No offense, Getou, but you’re a big, scary-looking man. None of these kids are going to trust you. Shoko said it’s part of the reason you bring us along, and it’s why the higher ups allow it.”

Suguru squinted at the boy. “Are you seriously only in middle school?”

“I get that a lot.”

He walked over to the boy and peered out the door. Doppelgänger was leisurely sitting on top of a pile of knocked out curse-users, casually fanning itself with a large fan as it waited to be recalled. He rolled his eyes and turned back to Megumi. “You think you can win their trust?”

Megumi shrugged. “Don’t see why not. I have dogs. Kids like dogs. Why though?”

Suguru’s brow raised at his assessment. He wasn’t wrong there. Already the black wolf had ambled over and was sniffing at the children’s’ outstretched arms, licking them and inciting hushed giggles. He dropped his voice while they remained distracted. “I’m going to have to summon a curse in order to dispose of the lock, and I don’t want to scare them. If I do it manually, it could backfire.”

“Just use Hana’s special powers,” one of the children piped up. Suguru whirled around in surprise, knowing he had been quiet enough that only Megumi should have been able to hear him.

It was the little boy from earlier. He pointed to his ears. “They made my hearing gooder than before. It makes my head hurt sometimes.”

Suguru smiled gently at the boy. “We’ll get something to muffle all the noise. I’m sure that’ll make your head feel better.”

“Who’s Hana?” Megumi asked bluntly. It caused Suguru to cringe ever so slightly. If he didn’t know for a fact they weren’t related, he would have one hundred percent believed the kid got his frankness from Utahime. She was definitely growing on him.

The little boy pointed, and both Suguru and Megumi glanced over to find the white wolf scratching and pawing at the floor. Without preamble, Suguru strode over and examined the floorboards. It was subtle, but there was an unnatural seam in the wooden planks. His fingers brushed over them until he found a dip. Despite being nailed shut, the wood gave easily as he ripped upward.

His heart clenched in his chest at the sight before him, and the urge to burn everything to the ground came back to surface. In a small, cramped cage shrouded in dark shadows, a little girl squinted up at him with dull, green eyes. Her hair was dirty but appeared blonde, and it curled in tight mats up to her ears. Despite her gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes, she was angelic with an otherworldly beauty that gave him pause.

There were several, heavy, iron locks all over the cage, but not one of them was spelled with a cursed technique. The white Divine Dog whined sharply as it stuck its head into the hole. Suguru nudged it back and reached inside. “I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised and released a small curse into the space.

Its round body bounced like a ball across the floorboards and rolled up to the cage. Revealing sharp claws that could cut through anything, it sliced through the cage like it was made of toothpicks before Suguru absorbed it back into his arsenal. With his hand still out held, he waited for the girl—Hana—to reach up and grasp onto him. She didn’t. She continued to stare up at him with those dull, lifeless eyes.

He sighed and looked up. “Megumi.”

Megumi strolled over and dropped to his knees, peering through the hole in the floor. His eyes widened briefly, but his voice remained neutral as he asked the girl, “Are you going to stay there all day? Let’s go.”

Hana stared at him quietly for a long moment. Then the white wolf whined again, and she finally brought her arm up. Her fingers were thin and trembled in the air, and Suguru’s hand wrapped around her bony arm gently. Using as little strength as necessary, he pulled her up into the room. The children in the cages gasped, and Suguru’s eyes widened at what was flapping on her back. Wings—tiny, feathery wings—flapped slowly on her shoulder blades. He hastily took off his black haori and wrapped her up in it.

“Can you help us unlock the cages?” he asked softly, pointing at the children.

“I thank you for your kindness, young man, and Hana will be more than happy to assist you. She’s just a little tired and hungry at the moment.”

Megumi and Suguru froze at the voice, and their gaze snapped to Hana where it had come from. On the girl’s pale cheek … was a mouth.

Megumi’s eyes were now round as moons as he stumbled backward. “What the—?”

“I mean you no harm,” the mouth continued speaking. “I will also explain everything later. For now, though, there is the matter of the children to prioritize.”

Suguru’s unguarded surprise disappeared as his mind whirled with possibilities. This was an experimentation camp, but just what were they experimenting with? This shack held no documentation, no records, no files, no reports—no information whatsoever.

He watched Hana calmly walk over to the center cage and hold up a finger. The cursed technique keeping the lock protected disappeared as if it was never there to begin with. The boy with the blunt bangs and the girl with dark hair rushed out as she did the same thing with the other two cages.

Suguru didn’t know if he could be any more surprised. A cursed technique that could undo other cursed techniques? Just what else was this girl hiding from them?

Divine Dogs herded the children up with wagging tails and soft woofs. Their nervous giggles filled the air. Megumi looked up at Suguru with a blank expression. “What now?”

He sighed and wiped at his face. This was going to be a long night.

It took two days to find the children’s parents. Throughout that time, Suguru made regular calls to Yaga and the managers at both Jujutsu schools who could chauffeur the children out to their homes. If any of the children started showing “weird” symptoms—and he suspected the boy with the impeccable hearing would—their parents were asked to call the number on the business cards handed out to them.

Hana was the only child that didn’t have a home to go back to. Even if she did, she wouldn’t be able to return to a normal human society. Her body was being shared by another entity, and that entity turned out to be an incarnated sorcerer from the Heian Era, introduced as Angel, which was a can of worms Suguru wasn’t ready to get into just yet. Angel had said she would explain everything later, but he wanted to be in the presence of Yaga and Satoru before she did. In any case, taking her back to Jujutsu High was the only option. Whether or not Angel could even be hidden was a moot point as the wings on the girl’s back weren’t retractable.

“I promise I’ll be back home soon,” Suguru sighed in exasperation. Trying to find accommodations for a child with wings was a little more difficult than he could have anticipated, and he wasn’t going to keep her in the same place she had been tortured in while he found the other children’s parents.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Shoko asked with what sounded like dry amusement.

Suguru leaned back against the brick of the motel and stared up at the blue, cloudless sky. He missed Shoko when he was gone for too long, and he always missed his girls regardless of how much time passed. Especially when he was reminded of how he’d found them every single time he took on a mission.

“Maybe both,” he admitted. “I really only have one kid left to deal with, but the police department over that area are sticklers. I’m having to get the higher ups involved to prevent them from asking me too many questions. It’s a lot of waiting around.”

Shoko hummed on the other side. “Still have that one kid with the wings?”

“Hana.”

“Pretty name. Anyway, no parents?”

“None that she remembers.” He’d only given Shoko the minor details, but he’d had to tell someone. It wasn’t every day you came across someone with wings—even in the jujutsu world.

“What are you going to do with her?”

“It’s not what I’m going to do with her, it’s what the higher ups decide to do with her.”

“Don’t act like we all haven’t gone up against the higher ups for a child before.”

He sighed again. “I doubt it’ll come to that. If anything, we could …” he paused, not knowing how to go about telling her what he had in mind. “Well …”

Shoko was silent for a long minute, but then he thought he heard her laugh. “If you keep this gig up for much longer, we really are going to end up starting a daycare.”

“You’re not mad?”

“It’s not the first time a child’s been dumped on me without warning. It sorta loses its shock value after the first time. But before you even think about it, let’s see what the higher ups say. Besides, she might not even want to be taken in by us.”

Suguru couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face. “I don’t know. She’s taken a liking to Megumi. Especially Divine Dogs.” Over the last two days, Hana never spoke, leaving Angel to do most of the talking for her. However, she’d stuck to Megumi’s side like his eleventh shadow. Because she never said anything, she didn’t have the chance to be annoying, and since she wasn’t annoying, Megumi allowed the hovering.

“I can’t wait to tell Satoru.”

“Just wait until I get there. I want to see his reaction.”

“Deal.”

Hana’s future would rest in the higher ups’ hands for a little while longer. The deliberation process, Suguru was told, would take about a week. It was a serious issue having an incarnated sorcerer in the body of a child. Suguru encouraged them to take all the time they needed to come to a proper solution. After all, not thinking things through didn’t end so well for the last council of higher ups.

The thinly veiled threat was understood clearly. Hana was not to be executed.

Or else.

Shoko took one look at her, and it was like seeing Maki and Mai that first night all over again. She glanced up at Suguru, but all he gave her was a look that said he understood. They stood at the school’s border where the torii gates signified the blessed grounds within Tengen’s barrier. Beside her were Yaga and Satoru, and Shoko couldn’t help but notice how Hana couldn’t meet any of their gazes. Not without Megumi, apparently, but the boy had had to go back to school or make up his missed days during summer break next month.

She took the initiative before Yaga could interrogate the child—and whatever entity resided within her. She walked over and crouched down to the girl’s level. “Hey,” she said gently. Hana wouldn’t look at her, but that was okay. It was awkward the first few nights with Maki and Mai too. But luckily, she knew something that should work like a charm. “Do you want to take a bath?”

The girl’s otherworldly eyes, the color of gems covered in the dust of the earth, flicked up to meet her gaze.

“We can get all washed up,” she continued. “And brush your hair so it’s nice and soft again. Your teeth too. Do you want that?”

“She would very much appreciate that,” a more mature voice stated, and Shoko’s eyes widened briefly at the mouth that appeared on the girl’s cheek. Satoru whistled as if impressed behind her. She ignored him.

“Can you tell me you want a bath?” she tried again, eyes searching the girl’s dull gaze.

Hana looked away as if she wanted to say something, but her mouth never moved. Hesitantly, though, she nodded softly. Shoko smiled at the breakthrough and stood to her feet. She reached out her hand and waited for Hana to take it.

“Just don’t fill the bathhouse with bubbles this time,” Yaga grumbled as they passed by him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said without a backward glance. “That was Satoru.” She stopped abruptly and whirled around, catching all three men’s gazes. “Speaking of—Satoru, run to the store for me. I think I’m going to make dinner tonight.”

Satoru’s curious expression shriveled up and died on his face. “What do I look like, your errand boy?”

Her grin was pure self-satisfaction. “You are if you want shogayaki.”

She hadn’t even turned around before the man was gone in the blink of an eye. She felt a tug on her sleeve, and she looked down to find Hana staring up at her.

“Hana wants to know what shogayaki is,” Angel expressed from her right cheek.

Shoko’s smile softened. “It’s a surprise.”

Chapter Text

Hana watched Shoko work the good-smelling soap into her hair through the mirror in the bathhouse. The woman’s face was neutral, but her voice was gentle. She was patient, and she didn’t try to fill the silence with endless talking. Her fingers were strong as they massaged Hana’s scalp, and the action nearly pulled the girl under the spell of sleep.

This is nice, she thought sleepily.

I sense no hidden or ulterior motives either, Angel whispered inside her mind.

Hana didn’t always fully grasp Angel’s funny way of speaking, but she took her words to mean Shoko wasn’t bad.

The large man with the bangs wasn’t bad either. He just looked scary. No one at this new place seemed bad, and if Angel didn’t think they were bad, then Hana felt like she could relax the tightness in her shoulder blades. Her wings shivered and drooped behind her, brushing up against the woman who was trying to detangle a knot out of her hair.

Just then her stomach rumbled, and the noise sent a cold chill through Hana’s body. She tensed up, shoulders tightening, waiting for—

—nothing. Shoko didn’t do anything … Had she not heard? No, it was loud. Hana’s body had gotten used to eating again once she was freed, and now it expected food at every turn.

“Did Suguru feed her?” Shoko asked out loud, most likely directing her question at Angel.

“Not this morning,” Angel replied.

Shoko frowned but didn’t say anything for a moment and went back to concentrating on Hana’s hair. Already it was longer, coming down past her shoulders in thin, wispy locks.

Hana’s stomach rumbled again, and again the feathers on her back trembled as the girl tensed up, ready to be hit for such an obscene noise.

“I’m almost done,” Shoko said, not the slightest bit annoyed. “After this, we’ll get you something to eat.”

“Shogayaki?” Angel guessed.

Shoko shook her head, but she was smiling now. “No, that’s tonight. I’ll have Suguru fix you up some onigiri. It’s just rice and some tuna mayo.”

“That would be lovely,” Angel said. “But we are supposed to be having a meeting regarding Hana’s current condition. The one in charge at this school is eagerly awaiting our arrival.”

Shoko merely shrugged. “He can keep eagerly waiting. Hana needs food, and just because he’s the boss around here doesn’t mean I have to listen to what he has to say. Well,” she amended with a thoughtful look, “not all the time, but Yaga knows better than to try and throw his weight around. He learned that enough when he was our teacher.”

Angel was quiet for a moment. “I see. So, are you the one who’s really in charge here?”

Shoko tilted her head back and forth as she ran the brush effortlessly through Hana’s platinum-blonde hair. “Depends. I’m the only doctor who can heal others with RCT, so that comes with its own weight. You don’t piss off your only healer.”

“Are the others you mentioned just as powerful?”

“Yeah. They’re both Special Grade sorcerers. Suguru is my husband. Satoru’s my best friend, and he's also, like … the bearer of the Six Eyes.”

Angel gasped, but the words didn’t mean anything to Hana.

“We must meet with them at once!” she rushed to say. “What I have to tell them is very important. If I had known someone as powerful as a Gojo was before me, I would have tried to speak with him earlier!”

Shoko still appeared to be in no rush. She pulled Hana around until the little girl was facing her at eye-level. “That’s nice,” she replied gently. “But first things first, we eat.”

“Before the experiment that brought Hana and I together, Hana was a normal girl,” Angel explained from Hana’s cheek. The girl sat in the center of the assembly hall in front of the school’s principal, Yaga. She was clutching one of his cursed dolls for comfort, and to Satoru and Suguru’s surprise and amusement, it was incredibly docile compared to whenever it was sicced on one of the two of them.

“Define normal,” Yaga stated as he lounged back in his low chair on the raised platform. Satoru had jokingly stated he looked like a wannabe king when he’d first bought it. He thinks that’s the only reason the man still has it. “Was she a sorcerer?”

“Searching through her past memories, I have determined that no, Hana was not a sorcerer nor did she come from any sorcerer family.”

Satoru and Suguru shared a glance. So, the Angel had the ability to search through memories? Was that a cursed technique of the Heian sorcerer, or was that just because the two shared a body?

Yaga hummed loudly, though you couldn’t tell what the man was thinking with shades that dark on his face. It was something else Satoru ruthlessly teased him for. “She displayed a cursed technique at the camp. Was that your doing?”

“Yes. My cursed technique, Technique Extinguishment, allows Hana to nullify any and all cursed techniques—even Special Grade techniques.”

Satoru stepped forward and quickly interrupted. “Do you know anything about the Inverted Spear of Heaven?” It sounded exactly what that weapon was capable of.

“My dear,” Angel said with what sounded like a tinge of amusement, “who do you think created such a weapon? I’m curious why you ask though. I had it buried with me when I died.”

Suguru looked skeptical. “Its cursed energy was foreign. How could you have been the one to create it?”

“Did I ever say I was Japanese? You think only modern people know how to travel, put roots down in another country, and learn its language?”

Yaga purposefully cleared his throat. “We’re getting off subject. Do you remember any details after your incarnation?”

The mouth on Hana’s cheek pursed its lips. “Hmm, I remember a round of applause. The people at the facility—”

“Facility?” Suguru cut in.

“Yes, we were moved to that rural locale along with the other children after the experiment on Hana was successful. As to why, all I know is that similar facilities across Tokyo, Sendai, and Hiroshima were being shut down and raided. Hana was too valuable, so all of the children were loaded up into crates and brought out into the mountains.”

Suguru sighed and felt the weight of Satoru’s hand on his shoulder. He’d tried to keep the raids under wraps, but the underworld of curse users was nothing if not one big, tangled grapevine. What facilities he hadn’t gotten the chance to track down were probably doing the same thing as this one.

“We didn’t capture the ringleader for this project. Do you know if they ever showed their face, or what their name is?” Yaga continued.

Hana stiffened, and Angel went quiet. The very air seemed to still, and silence filled the space with tension so thick, one could take a knife to it. Again, Satoru and Suguru exchanged glances.

“Their name was never mentioned, but they came to visit Hana one night. Most of their features were shrouded in shadows, but one thing stood out to me greatly.”

“What was that?”

“It was a woman with a large, sutured scar across her forehead.”

Yaga’s brow pinched in confusion. “The way you said that … you’re leaving something out.”

“How perceptive. The person in charge—I wanted to assume that they were similar to Hana and me. Two entities sharing a body, except …”

“‘Except’?”

“… Except the body being possessed was dead.”

Suguru felt chills skitter up his arms and spine, and the sensation was odd. He wasn’t particularly afraid of what he’d just heard. It was just … odd. “Did they say anything? Mention anything about themselves worth looking into?” he asked as he shook off the feeling.

“No, they blathered on quite a lot about irrelevant things. Mostly they were just happy to see Hana, and of course they wanted to speak to me. I declined to comment, but this didn’t seem to upset them in the slightest.”

Yaga looked annoyed. “You didn’t want to question the one who incarnated you into the body of a little girl? I feel like you’re not telling us something.”

Angel harrumphed. “Why would I give the bastard who brought me back to life the satisfaction of speaking to me? I was in Heaven! How dare he rip me from my little slice of paradise—”

Satoru rolled his eyes as the rant kicked into full gear, and Suguru elbowed him but couldn’t stop his own smirk from surfacing.

“Do you have any idea how long I had to wait to even get—!” Hana slapped her cheek, muffling the voice underneath, but other than that she appeared unfazed. Angel appeared on the back of her hand and cleared her throat. “My apologies. Where were we?”

“You were ranting about Heave—oof!” This time, Suguru wasn’t playful when he elbowed Satoru in the stomach. He didn’t feel bad either despite the glare the man sent him. Infinity hadn’t activated, so he couldn’t have hurt him.

“So, you didn’t hear anything from this person?” Yaga asked without preamble.

“Oh, I never said that. Remember that boy with the excellent hearing?” Angel queried, directing her question at Suguru.

Suguru was batting off Satoru’s attempt at a wet willy. “Of course.”

“Back before Hana was shoved under the floorboards, she shared a cell with him. Before I tell you what he told us, I must request one thing.”

Yaga nodded. “Go on.”

“What I’m about to say cannot leave this room.”

Satoru stopped pestering Suguru, and the two glanced at each other. Words didn’t need to be spoken between them for them to know they were thinking the same thing.

Yaga stared at Hana for a long moment before sighing. “That depends. If it’s serious, the higher ups will need to be notified.”

“Very well, I understand. This information cannot be leaked to the general public, and I would advise caution upon telling the higher ups.”

“Well, get on with it,” Satoru sighed, crossing his arms impatiently. It was all an act, Suguru knew, but the curiosity was genuine. What could an incarnated Heian sorcerer be this cautious about?

“The entity speaking from the woman’s body said this to her associates when they believed they were out of earshot: ‘now that we’ve met the conditions for a perfect vessel, it is time to move on to incarnating the King of Curses.”

Yaga swore loudly, and Suguru felt his eyes widen. Curse-users were trying to resurrect Sukuna? What could they possibly have to gain from bringing back the most powerful, most terrifying sorcerer in history?

Satoru briskly strode forward and dropped down in front of Hana. The girl looked up and met his blazing-blue eyes indifferently, but Satoru wasn’t there for her. “Sukuna’s going to be resurrected?” His tone was, not surprisingly, beyond excited. A large grin was starting to take over his face.

“Satoru!” Yaga barked. “Do you have any idea the destruction the King of Curses could cause? He could wipe Tokyo off the face of the map in a single night!”

That seemed to dim Satoru’s excitement. He pursed his lips in thought. Then he sighed longwindedly. “Guess we’ll have to make sure their plan doesn’t happen. Yaga, let the higher ups know we need to start collecting Sukuna’s fingers. They’ve got to already have their hands on a few.”

“Quit bossing me around, punk,” Yaga grouched, but he didn’t refute Satoru’s idea.

“And what if you’re too late?” Angel pressed. “What if Ryomen Sukuna is incarnated into the perfect vessel? Will you lose against the mighty King of Curses, bearer of the Six Eyes?”

“Nah,” he teased lightly. He could feel Suguru stepping up behind him, no doubt wearing an arrogant smile that mirrored his own. “We’d win.”

Dinner was the single most chaotic experience Hana had ever been a part of, and it started well before they were even served. It began when six children, all around her age, came trotting onto the campus from another school. They’d all stopped upon seeing her, and the bombardment commenced.

“Who are you?”

“Where’d you come from?”

“What’s your name?”

“You’re so pretty!”

“Are those wings?”

“How do you have wings!?”

“Can I touch them?”

“Are you staying here?”

“Why is your hair that color?”

“Divine Dogs.”

Hana’s eyes flared slightly at the familiar voice, and instantly she was surrounded by the twin wolves she’d come to find so much comfort in. The cursed doll in her arms, a teddy bear with boxer gloves, started swinging wildly as the white wolf sniffed at her legs. She held it tighter, and it slowly calmed down.

Shoko pulled her back by the shoulders until she was bumping into the older woman. “Guys, you’re being overwhelming.”

Maki crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “But who is she?”

“Her name is Hana, and she’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

“Forever?” Mimiko guessed.

Hana’s heart did a funny thing just then, but she couldn’t understand why.

“If that’s what she wants, and if the higher ups say it’s okay.”

Nanako’s eyes gained a certain clarity to them, and she directed her gaze at Hana once again. “Are you like us?”

“She doesn’t talk,” Megumi stated bluntly, coming to her rescue. “But yeah. Suguru and I found her.”

A quiet stillness settled over the group, but Mai stepped forward and grasped onto her hand. Hana’s heart tripped up in her chest before it began to race as she felt the girl’s warm, soft palm against her own. The teddy bear opened one sleepy eye, but upon seeing the cause of her anxiety was just another child, it dozed back off.

“It’s okay,” she said gently with a big, beaming smile. “Shoko’s our mommy, and she took us away from a bad place too. She’s good. You don’t have to be scared no more.”

“Yeah!” Mimiko echoed with her own radiant smile. “Suguru saved me and Nanako from some bad people a long time ago, and now we live with him! You can live with us too!”

Maki hoisted her backpack further onto her shoulder. “You can borrow some of our clothes if you want.”

“Ours too!” Nanako cheered. “We have a lot more because Getou can’t ever say no to us.” She cackled as if she’d just told a joke, and Shoko supposed she’d just called Suguru one.

“Guys, remember what I said about being overwhelming?”

Hana stared at each of their faces and swallowed around her suddenly dry throat. All she could do was nod, but it felt like at any moment she was about to burst into pieces. That feeling persisted throughout the evening.

There was no anger, no violence, no sadness, no pain. She kept waiting for an outburst that didn’t come. Every movement she made felt too loud, but every time her shoes scuffed the ground or the fabric of her new clothes shifted against her wings, no one turned around to slap her across the face. No one even noticed.

“Guess what’s for dinner?” Shoko asked as she led the herd of children toward the school’s main cafeteria.

“Sushi?” Mai guessed hopefully.

“I hate sushi,” Megumi grumbled.

“Whatever it is, can I help?” Tsumiki asked. “Larue’s been teaching me how to make desserts in his shop, but I want to learn how to make food-food.”

“Of course. It’ll be just like the first time we cooked together.”

Maki stopped in her tracks, eyes wide behind her glasses. “Wait … does that mean we’re having …?”

Suddenly, Megumi looked hopeful, and Hana found it curious that the boy who didn’t display much emotion could make such an expression. Now her curiosity was also piqued.

Tsumiki gasped, and her face lit up with excitement. “Shogayaki!”

Shoko chuckled. “I can’t believe you guys always get so excited for plain old shogayaki.”

“It’s the first real meal I remember ever eating,” Megumi said with a shrug.

“Same here,” Maki and Mai both said at the same time.

Nanako hummed with her own secret smile. “It’s different when you eat something with a whole bunch of people rather than by yourself.”

Hana paused as the words soaked into the very fibers of her being. The other kids followed after Shoko without looking back, but the white wolf stopped by her side and looked up at her. Its yellow eyes were so intelligent. It was like it could understand what she was feeling.

“You coming?”

She glanced up to find Megumi standing in the doorway. He appeared as bored as usual, but there was an impatience about him as he kept looking over his shoulder. When he met her gaze again, she nodded and followed after him. His steps were a little quick, like he was excited about something, and Hana did her best to keep up with him.

There was something going on in her belly, something that made her want to shiver all over. Something that traveled up past her heart, all the way to her face so that she felt the need to smile too. Her wings fluttered on her back, unable to escape the tremors. What was this feeling? It was scary, but it also felt nice. Was this excitement?

Only time would tell.

The cafeteria was soon filled with the most amazing scent, and it seemed to call to everyone on campus like a siren. The massively long table started off with just the children around it, then Suguru walked in sniffing the air with a smile, followed shortly by the white-haired man who was boisterous and loud and plopped down right next to Hana with a grin too big for his face.

“You’re in for a treat, kid,” he said to her as he lounged over the table like a cat. “I still feel cheated Shoko’s only started making this recently.”

Hana had nothing to say to that, which he didn’t seem to mind, but she could feel the anticipation in the air as she looked around at everyone’s impatient squirming.

She peered over at the door where the principal came striding through with a severe frown and his hands on his hips. “Satoru, what are you burning in there?”

Satoru gave the man an offended squawk. “Teach’! How could you say something so horrible about Shoko’s cooking!”

That seemed to cause the man to pause. “Shoko’s cooking?”

“Yeah! Tsumiki is helping her!” Mai called to him and started patting the table. “Come try some!”

“Maybe he shouldn’t,” Suguru teased from the seat beside her, his face a mask of total seriousness. “Too much salt will give the old man a heart attack.”

“Punk! Who do you think you’re talking about?”

Another man walked through the door and stopped as the scent no doubt hit him like a brick wall. He was another serious type with blonde hair and circular glasses.

“Nanamin!” Satoru called with excitement. “Back from Malaysia already?”

“I was gone for two weeks. I sent Utahime a postcard.”

“You sent Utahime a postcard but not me? I’m the one who sent you there!”

“I think we’re just surprised you came back at all,” Suguru snickered.

The man sighed heavily. “Unlike a certain someone,” he started directly at Satoru as he said that, “some of us have a job to get back to.”

Satoru lounged back against the table and fiddled with his sunglasses, a put-out frown on his face. “This coming from the man who ditched the sorcerer world for an accounting firm.”

“I was a stockbroker.”

“Same thing.”

The principal groaned and began rubbing his temples. “Enough, you’re already giving me a headache.”

Mimiko rushed over and grabbed his hand. The big, scary-looking man stared down at her, but she ignored him and went to grab Nanami’s hand. “Stop standing around already and sit down. Shoko’s almost done cooking!”

The blond sorcerer’s brow quirked in confusion. “Shoko’s cooking?”

“Yeah!” the girl beamed, tugging them both toward the table impatiently.

He only sighed again. “Fine then. I’ll stick around long enough to clean up the kitchen. Then I’ll set out on that mission, Principal Yaga.”

Yaga waved him off. “You don’t need to do that—”

“No. If I’m not the one who does the dishes …” he paused, and a tiny, almost unnoticeable tremor shivered through his whole body, “they’ll sit there for months.”

Suguru snorted. “I didn’t know you were one to exaggerate, Nanami.”

“I found mold growing in the sink once, Getou. I am, in fact, not exaggerating.”

No one argued any further with the man.

It was just as the rest of the adults sat down that plates started pouring out of the kitchen. Steam trailed off each dish set before the children, and Hana’s nose hairs practically curled in on themselves at the pungent scent of indescribable flavors that wafted up toward her. Her mouth started watering before she could even get a good look at what she was about to eat.

“Me next!” Satoru called out to Shoko’s retreating back.

“Suguru first, then you,” she shot back at him, not missing the smug face Suguru made.

“Remember when it was just me and you, Shoko!?” He cried out in betrayal. “Remember when it was just the two of us? What happened to bros before—”

“I’m not your bro!” she shouted from the kitchen.

“Not with that attitude.” He sucked his teeth and drooped over the table.

“Unsightly,” Nanami commented.

Hana watched them begin another round of bickering as her stomach growled, but the noise was covered up by all the moaning the girls were making as they tore into their food. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to watch people eat while she went without, but for some reason, this felt so much worse.

An elbow jabbed softly into her side, and she jumped, head snapping up to find Megumi’s cheeks stuffed full of food. He hastily swallowed and wiped at his sauce-stained mouth before gesturing toward her plate. “Are you not hungry?”

She was very hungry. Her gaze dropped to her plate. It felt like her stomach was caving in on itself. A shadow fell over her, and she slowly looked up to find Nanako standing next to her. The girl once again had a sharpness to her dark brown eyes that wasn’t there before. She cupped her hand over her mouth then dropped down and brought herself close to Hana’s ear.

“You don’t have to ask before you eat anymore.”

Then she was gone, flitting back over to her seat beside Suguru and snatching her fork up. Hana looked back down at her plate and slowly picked up the shiny, metal utensil she saw everyone else using. Its sharp prongs were perfect for stabbing the pork slices. Pulling it up into the air, she watched the thin, stringy onions and grated ginger slip down the dripping meat. Without another moment wasted, she brought it to her mouth and took a bite.

Shoko wiped the sweat from her brow with her arm and sighed as she picked up the first two plates. If she didn't get this out to Satoru in the next few minutes, he'd start whining again.

“Check the squash, Tsumiki,” she reminded gently. The girl had been much more helpful this time around, but it also helped that the kitchen was five times the size of the one in the Fushiguros’ old apartment.

“Already on it,” Tsumiki replied, rushing over and plating it with the shogayaki. “Rice is done too.”

“Good. Here, here's your plate. Take it into the cafeteria.”

“But what about—?”

Shoko smiled and shoved the plate toward the girl. “I got it, Tsumiki. Go eat. And don't let Gojo take anything off your plate. His is coming.”

Tsumiki beamed and hurriedly scooped some rice onto her dish before hurrying out of the kitchen. “Thanks, auntie!”

Auntie, huh? Shoko shook her head. Sometimes, these kids made her feel older than her 21 years of life told her she was, but they were worth the trouble. Besides, it had to be better than drinking herself stupid, all alone, trying to forget about her depressing circumstances.

She grabbed two plates and stepped out into the cafeteria. “Order up!” she shouted, holding onto a neutral face when she set Satoru’s and Suguru’s plates down at the exact same time.

“Hah! I knew she still loved me more than you,” Satoru said as he clapped his hands together and said his thanks for the food.

“She literally asked me to marry her,” was Suguru’s dry reply.

Shoko hummed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t recall asking.”

“Yeah, but I’ve stuck by her through thick and thin more than you have. That’s gotta count for something.”

“You stuck to her because you're like an annoying disease.”

“What's that say about you?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. They weren’t even aware of her existence right now. She was about to turn and grab Yaga and Nanami’s plates when her eye caught Hana’s still form. Everyone was preoccupied around her, not noticing the way she was staring down at her food … or the tear tracks that ran down her face.

Slowly, so as not to draw too much attention, she rounded the table and patted Yaga’s shoulder. “Go get your plates.” She ignored his look of confusion and continued around the table until she had dropped down by Hana’s side. “Hey,” she whispered softly. “What’s wrong?”

Hana appeared to be lost in a trance, and she sniffed as she blinked and came back from wherever she had gone. Her dull, watery, green eyes shifted until they fell to Shoko’s gaze. She swallowed her food and sniffed again, and Shoko felt that oh-so-familiar feeling of her heartstrings being tugged on.

“I … want more,” the girl croaked.

Everyone at the table stopped what they were doing and turned to stare. Hana’s first words seemed to echo in the large space, but she only had eyes for Shoko.

Shoko’s brow pinched, and she was at a loss for words for a moment. Her shogayaki might be good, but it was hardly something worth being this moved over. “O-Okay, we can get you more if that’s what you want.”

Hana nodded. “I want more,” she repeated in a hoarse voice.

Again, Shoko seemed confused. Her plate had hardly been touched. There was still plenty left to eat. “You want more … shogayaki?”

She sniffed and wiped at her face, but the tears continued to slip down her cheeks. “I want more … of this. More shogayaki … with everyone.”

Shoko’s confusion cleared, and her heart squeezed in her chest. She brought her hand up and began wiping away at the girl’s tears. “If that’s what you want, then you can have more, Hana. More shogayaki with everyone for as long as you live, okay?”

“Can you promise?”

Shoko chuckled and brought up her pinky finger. “I’m an expert at keeping promises.”

Shoko groaned as she fell back against the rolled out futon in Satoru’s dorm room. Her bones felt too heavy for her body, and her body felt like jelly. If she moved, her skeleton would simply slip right on out of her meat-suit. Not wanting that to happen, she resigned herself to staying right where she was for at least another hour.

“All the kids accounted for?” Suguru asked as he walked into the room, long robes swishing at his feet. He looked like the embodiment of death with his long, dark hair, onyx eyes, and all-black robes. It was kinda hot.

“Mm-hmm.”

Satoru sauntered in behind him and dove onto the rolled-up futon with a self-satisfied sigh. Arms crossed behind his head, he leaned back and closed his eyes. “I hope Utahime’s cooking is as good as yours, Shoko.”

Shoko felt the futon dip on the other side of her as Suguru knelt down and got comfy. “Doesn’t matter one way or another. Once you marry her, you have to eat everything she cooks whether you like it or not.”

Satoru suddenly sat up. “Wait, seriously?”

Suguru nodded without looking up from his phone. “Duties of a husband—even if I do most of the cooking.”

“Then what are the wife’s duties?”

Shoko opened her eyes long enough to make eye contact and waggle her eyebrows at Satoru. She was thoroughly delighted at the red tint that abruptly covered his face and ears. He shoved her shoulder, put out by her snickering, and settled back down.

He feigned nonchalance and sighed again as if relaxing. “Not like it matters. Utahime won’t say yes no matter how many times I ask.”

Suguru snapped his flip phone shut and peered over at his best friend. “Have you even asked her once?”

“Nah. Besides, she’s still got school to finish up. I know!” He sat up again with a smile that spelled trouble. Shoko and Suguru shared a glance, knowing they shouldn’t support whatever he was going to say but knowing they would anyway. “I’ll crash her graduation and ask her then!”

Shoko felt her face twitch as she held back a laugh. “You do know Gakuganji will be there, right?” Of course, he knew that. She just liked adding fuel to the flames.

“Uh, yeah? It’ll be great!”

Suguru didn’t even hesitate. “I’m down.”

Shoko sighed, but who was she kidding? “I’ll bring my camera for the moment of impact.”

“Aw, you’re the best. Years down the line, I’ll show our kids those photos and tell ‘em all about how she just couldn’t resist me.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Suguru muttered with a knowing grin.

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Don’t we have enough kids around here? Why would you possibly want more?”

He suddenly flung himself forward and rolled to his feet. Sauntering over to his secret-not-so-secret snack stash, he brought out several bags of chips, Sakura Pepsi, and chocolate candies. He tossed Shoko a bag of salted seaweed chips and Suguru a thing of pockys. The rest of the junk food was tossed onto the futon, a real free for all, and then cracked open a soda. “None of the kids see me as their dad, though.”

“Gee, I wonder why?” Shoko replied around a mouthful of chips. Right about now, she could really go for a cigarette. She’d been good—real good recently, but a moment like this just felt so nostalgic.

“I’m serious!” he continued. He chugged his soda and gasped as he finished it off, crushing it effortlessly with Infinity. “Even Tsumiki calls me uncle.”

“No offense, Satoru,” Suguru drawled with a pocky stick hanging off his bottom lip, “but you don’t exactly give off dad vibes.”

“Eh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before they could pick a fight with one another, Shoko sat up and tossed a bag of mochi at Satoru. The treat easily distracted him. “Look, I don’t exactly give off mom vibes either. I told you day one I didn’t think I was a right fit for the girls. And it’s not like I jumped at the opportunity to help you with the Fushiguros when you got ‘em either.”

Satoru shrugged with one shoulder. “Yeah, but you’re, like, one big happy family now.”

“You’re part of that family too.”

“As an uncle.” He shrugged again. “I don’t know why it even matters. It’s not like I want kids right now anyway.”

Suguru crunched down on his pocky stick and hummed. His face was pointed toward the window where all the stars had come out to shine. “No need to rush things.”

Shoko nodded. “You’ve still got a few good years to worry about kids. It’s not like either of you two are capable of dying anyway.”

“Neither are you apparently,” Satoru shot back.

Suguru laughed. “We are the strongest after all.”

Those words sent a thrill through Shoko. There was a weight to them. A surety. A promise. No truer words had ever been spoken.

At one point it had just been Satoru and Suguru—the strongest. Then it had been Satoru and Suguru and Shoko. Then one became a god, and one fell away, and one remained stagnant. Life creeped by uninterestingly, and death was a constant shadow over their world, but fate brought them all back together.

It couldn’t right all their wrongs, fix all their broken pieces, or keep them tethered to each other. That had been their choice. Everything that had been thrown at them, all the obstacles and problems, all the highs and lows, every action and reaction had all come from a sequence of choices they had each made, leading them all here. Back to being Satoru and Suguru and Shoko.

Back to being the strongest.

Chapter Text

Shoko sighed and tore off the gloves collecting sweat against her skin. Next was her mask, then her stethoscope. “There. All patched up. Try not to see me again so soon.”

“Salmon.”

She nodded and watched Inumaki Toge hop off her exam chair. He cradled his healed right arm to his chest for a moment and flexed his fingers, confirmed that everything was fine, and walked over toward the entrance where Maki was leaning up against the door. Her hair had grown out and was now pulled back into a high ponytail, and she still wore the same circular frames on her face.

Her grin was without sympathy as she straightened up. “Thanks, mom. Ready to get back to training?”

“Fish flakes.”

“Uh …”

“That means no,” Panda helpfully supplied as he stuck his head through the door.

Shoko watched them all from her stool. Her desk had been moved just this last year to accommodate the influx of students on the Tokyo campus. Now she had a separate clinic, a private office, as well as the morgue that she was in charge of. It was a lot on her shoulders to manage, but it had become easier over the years as Maki and Mai—and even Nanako and Mimiko—no longer needed her as much. Becoming students at the jujutsu campus had been like handing out independence cards.

As the students filtered down the hall back toward the training grounds—some more reluctant than others—Shoko eyed her phone. Five o’clock. Time for her to get out of here. The paperwork was no longer a looming problem, not with the help she’d been receiving as of late.

There was a knock on her door just as she was shedding her white lab coat. “Mama,” Mai called into the room. Right on time per usual.

“Just set it down on the desk. I’ll file it in the morning.” She stretched with a groan and picked up her cup of coffee. It was cold, but she sipped at it anyway.

Mai gave her an unimpressed look. “Isn’t that what you said yesterday? You’ve still got the old file folders sitting right there.”

Shoko waved her off. “It’s fine. C’mon, let’s get out of here. If I don’t stop your father and your uncle, they’ll run the others into the ground.”

Mai rolled her eyes but set the file folder on top of the other one. “Fine, but I’m coming in here tomorrow to organize this place.”

Shoko flicked off the light as she left, the switch placed just under the framed achievements lining the wall. She paused long enough to adjust the crooked diploma that declared she now held a doctorate in medicine. She also had one in chemistry, and administrative health … and she also had credentials as a surgeon now too … as well as a forensic pathologist.

Utahime’s nerdiness might have rubbed off on her at one point.

She closed the door behind her and shook her head. “You do enough as it is, Mai.”

Mai peered over her shoulder and preened. “I know. What would you do without me?”

That was a question she had asked herself a lot over the years. Whenever sorcerers ended up on her gurney and didn’t get back up, she would come home to hot food on the table and warm hugs to wash away all the sorrow she tried to shoulder by herself. It was a gift she sometimes didn’t think she deserved, but it was one she’d take anyway. “I don’t know. Maybe I’d have a drinking problem.”

“Mama!”

Shoko chuckled and wrapped her arm around Mai’s shoulders, smiling when she leaned into the hug. The girl was prickly when other people were around, but when it was just her and Shoko, she turned into such a cuddle bug. Maki was much the same way, but she had recently started opening up with one of the students in her class. Yuta was a nervous boy with a terrifying curse attached to him, but even that hadn’t been enough to save him from Suguru’s ruthless drills. He was lovely overall, and Shoko had seen the way Maki’s face lit up at the mention of the boy and how she was easily embarrassed when he was around.

Ah, hormones.

There was a chill in the air when the two stepped outside. The Ginko leaves were turning gold, and the wind had picked up those that had fallen and scattered them across the campus grounds. As expected, and like every day before, the training area was still full of students. Maki, Toge, and Panda had all beaten them getting here, and were now standing with the first years as they watched Maki go up against Suguru.

She hadn’t landed a hit on him once in the two years she’d been training with him, but she was getting better and better at dodging his palm strikes. She was the best in her class at hand-to-hand combat and could wipe the floor with most Grade 3 sorcerers, but she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she landed a hit on Suguru.

“That’s what mom did back when she was in high school,” she had said once.

“I’m also a lot better than I was back in high school, Maki,” Suguru had replied. It hadn’t mattered. She was bound and determined.

Her sisters, Nanako and Mimiko, didn’t share the same sentiment and slacked off whenever they could—like now. Both sat on the bleachers taking selfies with silly faces, and Mai broke away to join up with them. That was fine, though, as Nanako spent most of her time in Shoko’s clinic reverting surface injuries back to normal. She wasn’t too keen on fighting curses, so she was utilized more in the medical field. Mai also wasn’t interested in fighting, but that had more to do with her limited cursed energy. Rather than propelling her forward like Maki, she had taken up long-ranged attacks with some self-defense moves. Out of all her daughters, though, Mimiko had surprised her the most.

Mimiko’s cursed technique, Strangulation, allowed her to manipulate a cursed rope tool like it was alive. Wrapping around and strangling curses, she then imbued the rope … with reversed cursed energy. The positive energy would immediately exorcise the curse. It was something that—when it first happened during training—had stunned everyone.

“I HAD BEEN SO CLOSE!”

The words her mother had screamed all those years ago still echoed in her mind every time she watched Mimiko apply her RCT to something. She didn’t understand the human body well enough to apply it to others, so outside of her normal studies, she was taking lessons in biology. Just last week, she had accurately healed a bruise on Nanako’s ankle.

Those baby steps, so insignificant right now, gave Shoko hope for a better future.

She watched Suguru slam Maki down onto the ground and shook her head as the girl bounced back up like it hadn’t even hurt. She cupped her hand to her mouth and let her voice carry across the grounds. “Time to call it quits, Suguru!”

Suguru stopped mid-strike and pulled back. He seemed to be breathing a little harder than normal which meant Maki was at least improving. He clapped his hands once and called for everyone to go wash up. As everyone raced by on their way to the showers, Shoko strolled over and took a seat on the bleachers.

“Where’s Satoru?” If she had to guess, she would say he was with Utahime at the Kyoto school.

Suguru pushed back his bangs and sent her an easy smile as he walked over and lounged back against the bleachers next to her. “I love it when my wife comes to visit me after a long, grueling day and asks about another man.”

She sent him a flat look. “I’m making sure he’s not bothering my best friend.”

“You mean his wife?”

“She was my best friend first.”

Suguru snickered at that. “He’s in Kyoto, but he brought Megumi and Hana with him to see Tsumiki. Nobara and Yuji asked to go, but the higher ups don’t want him leaving the campus unless it’s mission related.”

That made sense. Itadori Yuji was the embodiment of the higher ups’ worst fears. The plan Suguru and Satoru had put in place to prevent Sukuna, the King of Curses, from incarnating failed when the pink-haired first year swallowed Sukuna’s cursed object in order to save his friends. Now, he was just like Hana with a Heian Era sorcerer stuck inside him—only this one was as malicious as they came. Thankfully, he remained silent most days unless he was trying to goad Suguru or Satoru into a petty squabble.

“I take it they won’t be back for dinner?” she asked after a moment. She didn’t even know what they had in the refrigerator or if they had remembered to pull anything out of the freezer during the chaos of the morning routine. Five women with one bathroom had started the ugliest fights until the girls had finally been admitted into the school dorms, but even that hadn’t stopped the whirlwind of coffee runs, bathroom breaks, meal prep, and last-minute fashion advice from commencing every single day.

Satoru would never have to deal with this since Utahime had given birth to a boy. Years back, during her first pregnancy, there were some scares that had everyone—most of all Satoru—worried for both the baby and Utahime. Tsumiki had pleaded with him to let her move out to Kyoto to be with the woman, and it hadn’t taken Satoru much convincing. Since then, she hadn’t moved back. She’d found a life in Kyoto with Utahime, the baby, and—since he was just a warp away—Gojo. So, every once in a while, he would take Megumi out to see his sister. And since Hana never left Megumi’s side, she went with him.

Hana … that girl had turned out to be the most bubbly, kind-hearted, and sweetest person Shoko knew. Tsumiki’s influence had been a key factor in developing her personality when they were younger. She always saw the positive in any given situation, and she had grown into quite the young sorcerer with Satoru and Angel both honing her skills. She was already shaping up to be a candidate for Grade 1 as a first year.

And as for Megumi, he was still a sourpuss most days, but Hana was able to bring out a nicer side of him. Satoru may have gotten phone calls about his misdeeds over the years—like beating up his middle school classmates—but he wasn’t a total menace anymore. The other first years stuck to him like glue, so it was nice watching them pry his shell open here and there.

Suguru hummed with a stretch, sliding his arm behind her smoothly. “You know if you text them you’re cooking, they’ll all have Satoru teleport them here.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. Shogayaki had become a family special, and she was bribed into making it at least once a month if not more. And if anybody learned that it had been served while they were out on a mission with none set aside for them, there was hell to pay. Shoko liked to think it wasn’t so much the taste that everyone enjoyed so much—though the kids were quick to tell her that—but the memories that came back every time. “Do we even have enough pork for shogayaki?”

Suguru’s smile was charming as he looped a lock of her hair around his finger. It was as long as his now and reached her lower back. “I can always run into town.”

She blew out a breath as she looked up toward the horizon. The sun was retreating, and it bled out across the sky like a broken heart in shades of stunning scarlet and vintage gold. So rarely did she just get to sit and enjoy a sunset with her husband. If he wasn’t pulled away on a mission and taking half the student body with him, she was stuck in the morgue with a cadaver.

But, an evening making Shogayaki was bound to be one filled with all the familiar faces she hadn’t gotten to see recently. “Okay,” she relented. “Take the first years with you. They’re probably bored without Megumi and Hana, and they can help carry the groceries back. I know they’re going to ask for some anyway.”

Suguru sighed as he sat up before leaning over and landing a brief kiss on her lips. “Five more minutes. Let me enjoy the sunset with you.”

She leaned into his side and let a soft smile play across her face. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“Ooh, teach’ and Dr. Shoko are making out!” Nobara called from the top of the bleachers.

Shoko and Suguru both deflated. The moment had been lovely while it lasted. She patted his knee and hopped up. “C’mon, I’ll start getting round one of dinner ready.”

“You do that. I’m going to go teach a first year a lesson.”

Dinner was prepped and ready to go in record time. Satoru had indeed been the mule that carried everyone over to the school once the text message went out alerting all those in the group chat that shogayaki was for dinner. Before long, hordes of teenagers were pouring into her home, some with groceries and some with complaints about how hungry they were.

The house she now lived in was a gift from Yaga for graduating medical school. Being on the school grounds made it an easy walk to work each morning. It was big, too, with a traditional flare to it, but thankfully the kitchen was as modern as they came. The huge center island was a hot spot for the kids to hang out at—even for the kids that weren’t her own. She stood over it now, slicing up the second batch of pork cutlets.

“Shookooo!” Utahime cried out, and Shoko had two seconds to brace before she was being glomped from behind.

“I have a knife, you know,” she said in greeting, smiling over her shoulder as Uta pouted over her lack of reaction. She set down the knife and turned to hug the woman, but a significant baby bump stopped them from getting any closer.

“Leave it to a Gojo to get in our way. Typical,” she laughed. Utahime swatted her and dropped her hand down to her belly. “I’m just glad Uryuu isn’t like him, and I’m hoping Satsuki isn’t either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Satoru barked as he crowded into their space, giggling toddler hoisted high on his shoulder. Pushing the black blindfold around his eyes up enough to see the food over Shoko’s shoulder, he sniffed at the air with a groan. “Man, I’m hungry!”

“Teach’! Let me hold the baby!” Yuji called from the other side of the island, patting at the granite excitedly. Surrounding him on all sides, Panda, Toge, Megumi, Hana, Mimiko, Nanako, and Nobara all looked on with shiny eyes.

“One baby comin’ up!” he shouted, tossing the child through the air. Infinity—of course—was activated the whole time. Uryuu squealed and clapped as he floated harmlessly over to the other side. Nanako scrambled for her phone to record the whole thing while everyone else’s jaws dropped. Satoru was grinning like the fool he was until his gaze slid back down to a fuming Utahime. His expression instantly died on his face. “Ah … my bad?”

Shoko sighed and shook her head, and Megumi echoed the act with a rude comment under his breath.

“Auntie!” Tsumiki cried from the entrance, and Satoru was saved from a nasty lecture as he dodged out of the girl’s way. Tsumiki, as tall as Shoko now, barreled into her with a happy squeal. “I missed you! Do you need help cooking?”

She wrapped her arms around the girl and marveled at how much she’d grown since the last time she’d seen her. “Help would be much appreciated.” She turned toward Utahime and gave her a look. “You know where the couch is. Go prop your feet up.”

Uta nodded and rubbed at her back with a wince. “Yeah, if they swell any more they’ll be as big as Satoru’s head.”

The white-haired idiot only grinned. “Which one?”

“GOJO SATORU!”

As the evening progressed and every hungry mouth was served—even baby Uryuu had tried a bite of squash (to which he made the funniest, squishiest face Shoko had ever seen)—she was cleaning up the kitchen when Suguru snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Clean up later. Everyone’s catching up in the living room,” he murmured into her ear.

Shoko leaned back against him and felt her weary bones want to give out. Shogayaki nights always took a lot out of her. “I know. I think I hear Satoru talking about that one time where he kicked your ass and fought Yuki right after.”

“He did not kick my ass.”

“You know that’s how he’s painting the story.”

Suguru dropped his arms and rounded the island. “Then I better rectify that. Come on, the kitchen will still be here later.”

Shoko smiled and waved him on. “I’ll be in there in a minute.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “If you’re not …”

“If I’m not, either you, Maki, Mai, Tsumiki, or Utahime will come find me.”

Satisfied with that answer, Suguru set off to reclaim his honor. With the kitchen all to herself again, Shoko let out a tired groan and dumped the rest of the plates into the sink. She’d do the dishes tomorrow. Or she’d make Mimiko do them. Or Mai. Maki always ended up breaking them accidentally, and Nanako cried about her nails too much.

She picked up the leftover ginger sauce and pulled open the fridge. Their refrigerator, a double-doored monster of an appliance, had become the dumping spot for all the family’s photos over the years. There were hardly any spots left on the face or sides, but Shoko didn’t have the heart to take them down. Not when some of her favorite memories had been captured in them.

Maki and Mai’s first birthday with her had brought them back to Hotel New Gojo, and in the photo they were seen blowing out the candles of their separate birthday cakes. Maki had wanted a mammoth-sized chocolate cake, and Mai had wanted white frosting with a million sprinkles.

The photo under it was taken in Utahime’s cramped apartment kitchen. She and Tsumiki were caught in the middle of laughing as flour coated their entire bodies.

Then there was girls’ karaoke night with Utahime singing drunkenly in the background while Shoko and Mei Mei threw up peace signs.

Next to that was an older photo of Shoko in her wedding dress surrounded by all four girls. They were so little then with their cute, navy dresses and baskets of flowers.

The adults’ Halloween night was captured as well, back in 2011. Gojo had indeed gone as a maid, and Shoko had kept her promise to go dressed as a sexy nurse. Suguru had coupled with her and showed up as a bloodied surgeon holding a chainsaw. Then there was Utahime in a witch costume with the broom she had smacked Satoru with several times throughout the night.

That had also been the first Halloween the kids had gotten to celebrate. They had a photo of Maki as a boxing champion, Mai as a glittery vampire showing off her fake teeth, Mimiko as a fairy princess, Nanako as an idol with obnoxiously large sunglasses, Megumi in a zombie costume (that he had been forced into wearing), and Tsumiki as a chef complete with the big, white hat borrowed from Larue. Hana had even tagged along and dressed up as … well, an angel, but it was the first time she’d been allowed to walk off campus with her wings freed.

Below that was the day Satoru had crashed Utahime’s graduation and proposed to her in front of hundreds of strangers. In the photo, she was as red as her hakama pants, and Gakuganji stood next to her with the meanest glare he could muster. Shoko and Suguru took up the sides with their peace signs.

Even though that day she had heatedly turned him down, she’d said yes eventually. The next photo was of Utahime and Satoru’s extravagant, traditional wedding that had all of Hotel New Gojo filled to the brim with important guests. The photo on the fridge had captured Utahime in her beautifully embroidered, scarlet uchikake kimono while Satoru looked at her with the utmost affection in his own traditional robes. The event was so massive it made headlines all across Tokyo. Shoko had even torn one off a newspaper and clipped it to the photo.

^{“MOST EXTRAVAGANT WEDDING OF THE YEAR! EMPORER INVITED AS HONORED GUEST?”}

The emperor had not been invited as an honored guest. The prime minister had.

After that was a picture of Satoru and Suguru shoving each other and laughing. They were on the beach, and Shoko remembered that it was Okinawa. It was the most beautiful day of the year.

Next to that was pregnant Utahime showing off the stick that proved she was about to be a mom.

Then there was Tsumiki on her graduation day. Uta and Satoru stood behind her like proud parents.

The next photo was a snowy day in Hokkaido at the Iori Estate. The kids had gone back many times over the years, and Shoko had managed to capture a decent picture of the snowball fights before one hit her square in the face. She remembered joining the fray after that, and she remembered Satoru's dumb laugh as he ran away.

Another photo of Uta now holding precious Uryuu had been pinned with a heart magnet. He’d looked like a boiled potato when he was born, but in a cute way. Utahime looked dead-tired in the photo, laying out in the hospital bed, but her smile was radiant.

Shoko paused as she looked down and found Maki and Mai’s first day of middle school. Their smiles were forced, and as soon as the photo was taken, Mai had started crying about how she didn’t want to leave Shoko. The image made her heart flutter.

Then there was Utahime’s first official class that had taken a group picture, and of course Satoru had to photo bomb it with his sudden appearance into the shot. Holding up a peace sign to boot.

Two photos overlapping each other, held up by the same fruit magnet, had been put up just recently. In one, Mai was giggling as she took a selfie with Maki raging in the background as she played some video game with Megumi. The other photo was of Mai and Mimiko taking a selfie together after the haircut that left them with jaw-length locks. Mai still had her short hair, but Mimiko had let hers grow back out.

Then there was Megumi as a first year surrounded by his twin wolves. Hana was hanging off his arm with a dazzling smile. He wouldn’t say it outright to anyone, but the boy was just as smitten with her. The proof was in the photo.

Maki, Mai, Mimiko, and Nanako all had taken a selfie together on their first day of high school wearing their Jujutsu High uniforms.

Then there was the massive group photo taken this past Christmas. Shoko, Suguru, Satoru, Utahime holding baby Uryuu, Ijichi, Yaga, and Mei Mei had posed for the camera behind Maki, Mai, Nanako, Mimiko, Megumi, Tsumiki, Hana, Toge, Panda, Yuta, Kinji, and Kirara. Even Utahime’s students had come along to participate in the party. Todo was a gem, Miwa was adorable and made fast friends with Tsumiki, and Mai had even stayed in contact with the little witch girl Momo.

That had been such a special night, and she was hoping Christmas this year would be just as good.

The next photo was also pretty cute. Maki was standing next to Nobara at a street corner in Shibuya. Beside them, Nobara’s hometown friends waved to the camera. She remembered Maki had used Suguru’s connections to find the girl Saori, whom Nobara had traveled all the way to Tokyo to look for, and Fumi had never left Nobara’s old town. When Maki had gotten back from the trip, she’d told Shoko all about how the three couldn’t stop crying together.

Then there was the last photo. Her personal favorite. It was dated back in 2010. Back when all the kids were still young and they had all been hiding from the world up in Hokkaido. There was Gojo and Utahime, Tsumiki and Megumi, Mimiko and Nanako, Maki and Mai, and Shoko and Suguru all sitting around the kotatsu. Gojo had used his overly long arm to capture the photo, blue eyes peeking into the lens at the corner of the photo, as everyone smiled or made faces in the background.

Those snowy days in Hokkaido … they were some of the best she ever had.

“Mom!”

Shoko peered up from the photo to find Maki leaning against the door with an unimpressed stare. “What, Maki?”

“You said you were coming. Uncle Satoru and dad are about to fight again, and auntie is placing bets with Nobara on who wins.”

She let a heavy sigh leave her. “All right, I’m coming. Tell Nobara I’m putting my bet on Satoru, but don’t tell your dad I said that.”

Maki grinned. “Wait ‘til you hear how much is already against him.”

She snorted and sent one final look over her shoulder at the fridge holding all her memories. Hokkaido might have been some of the best days she ever had, but her life since then had been filled with ones just as good.

And as she made her way into the living room where a chorus of laughter rang out, she knew there were still many more to come.

That was a promise.