Depressed from being pretty and sadistic @roseki - Tumblr Blog

Parallel Ink

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 19k

Synopsis: A strange man stops you with even stranger words. Apparently you're just like him, even if you can't see it

Note: commissioned by the lovely @the-stories-i-love!!! thx again bestie for being sooooo patient for SIX MONTHS bestie ily<3. also ty @chimera-dreams for beta reading this!!

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, murder, death of a minor character, mindbreak(?), lowkey the darkest i've ever written him tbh, mc is in her late thirties, gojo is in his late twenties, mc is implied to be Nepali)

"Anyone sitting here?"

You weren't expecting a conversation. The cafe is pretty crowded during this time. Most tables are taken already. You turn back to the stranger. He’s still standing above you with a relaxed smile. You try not to stare.

"Go ahead." You smile.

He's handsome. He has clear, milky skin, a picture-perfect smile, and straight white teeth. His white hair and height make him stand out, as well as those glasses of his. He stands far above the rest of the patrons.

After satisfying your mild curiosity, you turn back to your phone. Your break is almost over, so you want to get as much reading as you can this hour. Across from you, the stranger takes a sip of his frappuccino. You can almost taste the sugar he’s inhaling with each sip. It’s baffling how people can drink that with a straight face.

"Weather's getting colder, hm?" He starts. Ah, small talk. Ever the people pleaser, you do your best to sate him.

"Sure is." You respond. "October's just around the corner."

"Ah, spooky season." As he says this, you catch a hint of an accent you can't place. "Got any ghost stories?"

"They're only scary to my daughter." You respond, turning the page. "The paranormal's never been my thing."

"Not a believer?"

"Basically."

"Fair." He concedes. "Real life is way scarier."

You spare a glance at him.

"I mean, between all the other things crawling around at night, ghosts are the least of our worries, aren't they?"

You shrug, but this doesn’t feel like small talk anymore. "I....guess?”

Is he trying to sell you something? He doesn’t look like a solicitor, but who knows what types of strange tactics those people have these days. Moreover, he talks like he knows you, but you’re positive you’ve never seen this man in your life.

“What do you call curses in the west? Ghouls or demons? I forget.”

You blink again, getting more and more confused by the second.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’re trying to say—“

“Hey now, you don’t gotta’ pretend.” He grins. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

His hand wiggles. You don’t know why, but you expect something to happen. Nothing does. His grin gets wider.

“See? Gotta’ say, your technique is exemplary. I’ve never seen anything like it. Does it suck curses in or does it absorb them completely?”

“What are you talking about?” Seriously, what’s with this guy? Who sits down with a stranger and just rambles about demons and ghouls like this? Did he wander out of the psych ward or something?

He opens his mouth, before clicking it shut. His grin falls.

“You…you can’t see them, can you?”

“See who?” You turn your head around, but the cafe’s the same as always.

He smiles, but it's a bit less smug than last time. “You have no idea what I’m talking about—“ A sheepish laugh, he drags his hand through his hair “—this is…I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I’m kinda’ stumped now.”

You raise a brow before it clicks into place.

“Oh.” You realize. “You’re one of those YouTube pranksters, aren’t you?”

He laughs again. You do, too, now that you’re finally in on the joke.

”I’m not.” He responds.

“Of course you aren’t.” You smile back, rising up. “Sorry I wasn’t able to play along. I hope you figure out your video.”

He doesn’t stop you. He just…watches as you throw away your cup, thank the barista once again, and begin the journey back to work. You can still feel his eyes on you, even after you’re out of the cafe.

Huh. What a strange guy.

~

You’re always home before she is.

The door clicks open. She slams it hard enough to make you wince. She was always rough with that thing. You're surprised it was still on its hinges.

“I’m home!” She chirps.

“Chira,” you chide, “Mommy told you. Gentle, gentle.”

“Sorry, mommy.” Chirasmi says sweetly. You immediately forgive her.

“How was school?” You ask when she skips into the kitchen. She drops her Jasmine-themed bag on the ground with a resonating thump. You need to chide her for that, too, but her cute face always distracts you.

“Good!” She responds. “We made marshmallow clouds!”

“Sounds tasty.” You nod.

”I want marshmallow clouds on my birthday, next year.” She declares.

”Birthday?” You repeat, pretending to think. “Hm, when is it again? May 27th?”

“No, Mommy, it’s June 7th!” She laughs.

“Oh, thank you for reminding Mommy, Chira.” You tell her. “You’re so smart! Wash your hands before you grab your snack, okay?”

She gives an enthusiastic nod before rushing into the bathroom. Such energy even when the day’s almost over. You were close to falling asleep on your feet. How you envy the youths. Your mid-thirties were really starting to kick your ass.

Thankfully, it’s Friday. You’d be free to lounge all weekend in your pajamas. Even at eight years old, Chirasmi was fairly independent. She’d be out playing with friends and riding bikes while you could watch TV and waste away. Your mouth practically watered at the thought of it. Honestly, you should be grateful that your daughter took more after you than your husband. As much as you loved him, her independence and knack for leadership made her so much easier to handle.

Chirasmi eventually bounds back in to enjoy her carrots and grapes. You get started on dinner, thinking a quick, delicious vegetable soup will do. As always, Chirasmi asks if she can help. You give her the easiest tasks you can: clearing out spoons in the dishwasher. Sometimes Chirasmi’s sweet nature made you wonder if you should get started on a little sister.

Thankfully, that thought process never goes too far.

As you chop the onions, your thoughts drift to that man in the cafe again. If you're being honest, you’d been thinking about him all day. It was all so strange. Random. And yet, it didn’t feel like a spur of the moment. You felt targeted somehow….and the way he kept going on and on about ghouls.

No. He called them curses, didn’t he? And…something about technique?

….What were you thinking? You were starting to freak yourself out.

Now you were really looking forward to the weekend.

Hours later, when Chirasmi is tucked safely into bed, you’re still stumbling around the kitchen. You can’t help yourself. You are adamant on not having any chores during the weekend. You want a lazy Saturday and a comatose Sunday.

You grunt when you bend to pick up a fallen rag. Your bones are already aching from running around all day. You’re barely thirty-eight, but time has already caught up to you.

It’s a little infuriating. You are still considered young, but you can feel your body change. Joints a little stiffer, a slower metabolism, looser skin no matter how many ointments you try. You aren’t twenty anymore. No more budding career, endless passion and drive.

No more change. You’re stagnant now. If anything, you’re deteriorating.

It’s not like you aren’t satisfied with your life, but when you think about it, you haven't achieved much. You got into college, got a job, married, had a kid. But for as much as the pay was, your career wasn’t ambitious. Honestly, the only accomplishment you had was how amazing your daughter turned out to be.

It was a little depressing, if you took a second to really think about it.

Luckily, you never think too much, something always distracts you.

There’s a creaking of a door. Chirasmi’s room.

You sigh, drying your hands before beginning the trek. Chirasmi has a tendency of being naughty, especially during the weekend. You bet she crept out of her room to ask for a cookie or something.

But she isn’t standing in the hallway. Chirasmi is nowhere to be found, but the door is wide open.

“Chira?” You call, peeking into her bedroom. “You okay—“

Someone is sitting on her bed.

Not someone.

Something is sitting on her bed.

It would almost be human, but its limbs are too long, its skin is too gray, its hair is too stringy. It’s so tall.

It turns to look at you. No eyes. There’s just rows and rows of teeth. The most terrifying smile you’ve ever seen on someone. And it's sitting right on your daughter’s bed, right where she’s sleeping so peacefully.

You don’t know what this thing is. You don’t know where it came from. All that you know is that it wants to hurt your daughter.

It wants to kill her.

You have no plan. You didn’t know what you were planning on doing. You just started running, sprinting towards the monster, hands reaching out. Maybe you were planning on tackling it. Maybe you wanted to throw yourself between that thing and your daughter. Maybe you were planning to strangle it, the same way it was planning to do with Chirasmi.

But then you touch it, feel its cracked skin. It turns to bite, horrifying long fangs and you know your arm is as good as gone.

And then it disappears. And then you’re alone.

You look behind you. Nothing. You spin in circles like a madperson, whirling around and around as you keeping muttering where did it go, where did it go, where did it go–

"It's gone."

You scream at the voice, nearly jumping out of your skin. He's casually leaning up against the doorway. You recognize him instantly.

"You." You keep swallowing your words. "You're–you're the one at the cafe–" Your voice drifts just when he puts a finger to his lips.

He points to your sleeping Chirasmi. Even through all that, she still hadn't awoken from her slumber. She still snored peacefully. You don't know whether to be relieved or annoyed at her lack of urgency.

"Let's talk somewhere else, yeah?"

You swallow, but eventually, you follow him out. You give Chirasmi one last glance before shutting the door with a click.

He'd changed since you'd last seen him. Now, he's in less casual wear, an all-black outfit. His hair is propped up, and he's wearing a blindfold instead of those glasses.

"That was a curse, by the way."

"What?" Your brain is miles behind this conversation.

"The thing you just saw." He supplements anyway. "It was a curse. Not much of a looker, huh?"

You can't say anything, so you nod.

"That's what you were trying to tell me about in the cafe." You murmur, the pieces slowly coming together. "A curse...." You're still trying to wrap your head around it. The paranormal exist, and they're called curses. What the actual hell.

"I'm still a little flattered you thought I was a YouTuber." The stranger says, that signature grin in place. "I'm a little camera shy."

You doubt that. If anything, he looked like he walked off of a magazine photoshoot, but his looks were the least of your worries.

"Why was it here?" You demand. "What did it want?" You don't say the underlying question. The wariness you've had since he showed himself. Did you bring that thing here?

"The same thing everything wants." He shrugs. "To eat." His blunt answer makes your skin crawl, but he doesn't linger. "Curses desire human pain. At first, I thought I wouldn't get here on time, but apparently, I never had to worry.”

"Did you get rid of it?"

Impossibly, his grin gets wider.

"No, you did."

You blink. "All that I did was touch it."

"And, apparently, that's all you need to do to exorcise it." He pauses and tilts his head. "No, it's more like you absorbed it. Your cursed energy is even stronger now."

"Cursed energy? Exorcisms?" You’re getting a migraine. "God, I need a drink."

He laughs. "I get it, it's a lot," He says, but it's not unkind. If anything, he's very patient as your toddler-brain struggles to keep up.

Two glasses of wine later, you are just as confused, but at least you aren't as lost. He tells you he's a sorcerer. He explains terms like 'curses', 'cursed energy', 'cursed techniques'. They all rattle in your brain, never fully making sense, but nothing else fits the puzzle.

"That reminds me." You swirl the wine in your glass, never taking your eyes off of him. By now, he's lounged on your sofa. "You never told me how you got here....did you follow me?"

His shoulders shake in mirth. "Nah, it's nothing like that." He assures, but it does nothing to appease you. "Remember what I said about cursed energy? Most sorcerers have some, but you have a lot. It's...almost like a tornado, just constantly swirling around you." He twirls a finger in the air. "If anything, it'd be hard to not notice you."

"Oh." You look down at your hands. You don't know what he sees. You don't know if you even want to. "So I'm basically a beacon to you sorcerers."

"Curses, too, I imagine." He adds. "I doubt that curse was here by coincidence. It was probably attracted to your vast amounts of cursed energy."

That grasps your attention. So basically, this entire incident was your fault. You ball your hands into fists. "Does...does that happen often? Those curses?"

"Where I'm from, yeah." He nods. "Here? There are some, but not as much, and they're not as dangerous. I bet you ran into a few here and there, it's why you have so much cursed energy."

"You....you said I absorbed it?" You look up at him. "What does that mean?"

"Ah!" He snaps his fingers. "That is how your curse technique works! Instead of exorcising a curse like other sorcerers, you absorb the cursed energy! Isn't that exciting? You're like a curse vampire!" He exclaims, way more excited than you were about this whole fiasco.

"You must've been doing this for decades." He tells you, his voice calmer. "Absorbing, absorbing. No wonder you're so strong."

He says it like it's an achievement, but when you look down at your hands, you don't see anything to marvel at. You feel the same. Normal, run-of-the-mill.

“How do you know so much about my…“ Power? You can’t bring yourself to say it.

“Technique?” He fills in the blank. “I have great eyes. Also experience.”

You stay silent, processing, processing. He shifts, crossing one leg over the other. You can feel his stare prickling the skin on your neck. Sharp. Studying.

“You’re taking this well.” He muses. You huff out a laugh, unsure and shaky.

“I don’t think I am, actually.” You counter. “It’s more like it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

You still can’t believe this is real. It’s like you’re dissociating, or maybe you have understood what he was saying. You couldn’t tell. Either way, you know one thing: Chirasmi is in danger.

From what he told you, you must have subconsciously doing this for years. Absorbing and keeping her safe. But what if an incident like tonight came up again? What if you weren’t home? What if you were too late next time?

“How can I keep her safe?” Your voice is so quiet, it makes you wonder how he even heard you.

He takes a minute. The silence is almost crippling.

“There’s this saying: once you meet a curse, you lose your luck. I’m not sure how much of that is true.” He confesses. You wait a bit more.

“There’s a school in Japan. It’s for people like you. Sorcerers.”

A smile quirks your lips. “I’m a bit too old for college.”

“A high school, actually.” He corrects. “But don’t worry, you won’t have to care about exam season or anything like that. It might be a school, but it’s also a hub for jujutsu sorcerers. After graduation, most set up base there.” He explains. “You won’t stick out all that much.”

“A school, huh?” You repeat, watching the last of the wine cling to the glass. “In…Japan.”

“Your daughter will be surrounded by peers with endless talent. She’ll be more than safe there.”

It's insane. All of it is insane.

But you saw the proof. You saw the teeth about to clamp down on her neck.

"I'm guessing this protection won't be for free," you say. It's not an accusation.

"Curses are everywhere. Sorcerers are a little less common, especially ones as strong as you." The man responds, not denying it. "It would be nice to have someone of your caliber on our side."

Your mouth quirks. You can feel the exhaustion in your bones. "Are you some kind of wizard recruiter?"

"Something like that."

You hum.

And then you laugh.

"All this time, and I don't even know your name."

"Satoru Gojo." He extends his hand. "A pleasure."

You take it, and it feels a little comical being so formal.

"Satoru." You repeat. "What a nice name."

He grins that same grin. It's a little more friendly, this time around.

~

You usually visit him on Sundays.

It's a habit. You keep it up. Even Chirasmi knows you only visit on Sundays.

Today, you two arrive on a crisp Wednesday afternoon. At least, you brought your essentials. Flowers are always a must for him. Carnations, his favorite. Roses, in his eyes, were too overhyped. White, delicate, carnations: 'A gentle beauty' he'd always said.

Chirasmi trails behind you. Her father's home had always unnerved her. Typically, you'd brush her antics off, find it amusing.

Now, you wonder if her fear has any basis.

His headstone is clean. Eight years later, and you haven't let any moss grow. You keep it pristine and well-loved. Because he is well-loved.

"Hi, Daddy!" Chira chirps first, cheerily. You've always wondered if she knew where her father was. You know you told her the child-friendly version. She'd nodded like she understood, but did she actually?

Or perhaps she thinks this is her father, the headstone you take her to once a week. She's never met him, Ken passed before she was born. She's only seen this version of her dad, not the kind, caring man you know and love.

It's been a while since you've cried here, you don't think you want to start now.

'Think about it,' Satoru had told you, 'I'll be here for the rest of the week'. He'd given you his number, and then he'd disappeared entirely.

Think about it. As if there was anything to think about.

And yet, you still hesitated calling that number. Your fingers would hover over the digits. Once, you got really close, only to shut your phone off and toss it aside. There's so little to think about, yet so much.

You can't just leave. You have your work. Everyone you know is here. Chirasmi is young, but it's Japan. It's an entirely new country, language, and culture. Will she be able to acclimate there?

Will you?

Chirasmi wants to make a mini bouquet for her father. You let her pick the wildflowers growing a little ways away. Once she's out of earshot, you collapse next to the headstone.

"This is so fucked." You say it so quietly, but you can almost hear Ken murmur in your ear about language. His imaginary scoldings make your lips quirk ever so slightly.

It's a nice day. It's always so sunny in the graveyard. Warm instead of cold. If it was just you, you'd probably sit here for hours, like you used to back when you were pregnant. You probably would, if you weren't nearly in your 40s, if you didn't have an impatient daughter.

When you rest your head against the cool stone, you reminisce that it might be the last time you'd see him. For a long while.

You'd always choose Chirasmi in the end.

(And there's a more selfish part of you. The part that wants to see this world Satoru gave glimpses to. A part of you that's eager to taste what this might mean for you.)

Your mind was long decided, but your voice still wavers when you call her over. She runs up to you with grass-stained shoes. In her tiny hands, she's clutching white wildflowers.

You pat a spot beside the stone, shifting so she can sit. She plops next to you, right after she arranges the flowers right next to your own. She's so careful with them. Soft and cautious. He was like that, too. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe your daughter was more like her father.

"I think we're going to move soon, baby," you tell her, softly brushing her hair behind her ear.

Her eyes grow wide, and when you start to tell her about the strange world you discovered, you can almost feel his hand on your shoulder, guiding you along.

Satoru makes the arrangements in about a week.

You, of course, ask about the obvious. Plane tickets, place of stay, work. He explains everything easily. Plane tickets will be compensated, you’ll stay at the jujutsu school, and you’ll work underneath him as an assistant.

(“Temporarily,” he insists later, “Until we’re able to properly set you up as a sorcerer.”)

He shows you the paperwork, the money, every single piece of proof you can ask for to assure you that his offer is legitimate and not a scam. There are so many people who work under him, people of high prestige and esteem.

In the end, you can’t do anything but agree.

From what little time you spent in Satoru's presence, you know he's something of a bigshot.

Still, the jet leaves you gaping.

You can barely hold onto your suitcase the more you stare at it. Unbelievable. Are you seriously supposed to get on that? It looks like it was plated with pure gold. You feel your credit score drop every second you look at it.

"I know." Satoru gives a sigh. "I wanted to bring the other one, but she's having engine issues. Souchan will have to do for now."

Hold on, he has one more? How rich was this man anyway? You’re too scared to ask.

Satoru isn't oblivious enough to not notice your hesitance. His lips curl into a teasing grin.

"What, scared of flying?"

"I've never even been on a plane before," you admit, his tease easily bouncing off your stunned form, "this is just...it's all so much so fast."

Chirasmi doesn’t share your concerns. You have to grab her hand so she won't go running into the aircraft. She was already eager, bouncing off the walls, practically pulling you towards the jet, your luggage in tow. Satoru's people grab them after a bit, disappearing behind the running engines as your daughter continues excitedly up the railing.

The interior is as beautiful as the exterior.

Glimmering walls and floors. Expensive leather seats. Nothing like the cramped airplanes you're used to seeing. So much legroom.

Chirasmi is all too eager to pick a seat, right by the window. You chide her at how rude she's being until Satoru himself waves you off.

"It's fine, make yourselves at home." He easily says, sliding into the seat across from you. You purse your lips, about to argue, before you eventually comply. It's fine for now. Let Chira enjoy herself, as much as she can.

This isn't a vacation, after all.

"The plane's taking off!" She excitedly announces.

Sure enough, the engines get louder. Chirasmi presses her face against the window, watching as the jet slowly rolls forward. Since she’s too preoccupied, you fasten the seatbelt on her. She giggles when the jet starts to pick up speed, clapping her hands, absolutely delighted. You feel your ears pop, the rumbling grows stronger, and then you are no longer on the ground.

"Wow," your daughter coos, "It's so tiny!"

You peek over to the windows, taking a glimpse of the land below. Cars and trucks shrink, roads look like thin lines. You watch and watch until there is nothing at all. Nothing but clouds.

The final glimpse of your home. Maybe, forever.

You might not ever come back. You don't know why the thought never hit you until now, maybe you hadn't fully internalized it yet. You were moving countries, going to a whole new culture and language, all because of supernatural entities.

Ridiculous. It was all ridiculous.

And yet, these past nights, you still had nightmares about that curse sitting on your daughter's bed. If you had been just a second late- if you had hesitated a bit too long...

"Hey," Satoru leans forward, grinning at your daughter, "wanna see something even cooler?"

Chirasmi eagerly nods. Satoru waves over a flight attendant.

"This nice lady is gonna take you to meet the pilots. And-" Chirasmi's eyes grow even wider. "-If you ask super nicely, they might even let you fly the plane."

"Really?" Chirasmi asks. "Can I go, Mommy? Please? Please?" She begs, already unbuckling her seatbelt so you doubt she'd listen if you refused.

"Don't be too much of a bother." You tell her, and you watch her prance off with the flight attendant.

"They won't really let an eight-year-old touch the controls, right?" You ask Satoru.

He shrugs, leaning back on his seat, crossing one leg over the other.

"If they do, it'd be good practice for when she gets a car one day, right?"

You are getting used to his nonchalance, so you smile at his crummy joke.

If you're being honest, you still can't read Satoru all that well. He smiles and jokes and teases but his presence feels blocked somehow. He's not as open as he appears to be.

If anything, he's like the clouds just outside the window: soft, nearly translucent, but they're all so packed together that you can't tell which one from which.

"Is that how you learned to drive?" You ask, eyes still lingering on the seat your daughter once occupied.

"Maybe," Satoru smiles, "but when you come from a family of high-lineage sorcerers, driving skills don't matter all that much. Speaking of family..." He drawls, causing you to look at him. "What's yours like?"

"My family?"

"Yeah, do you have conspiratorialist uncles? The kind that wear tin-foil hats? Y'know, I've always wanted to meet one of those guys."

"Sorry to disappoint." You smile. It sounds like light conversation, but you know what he's asking.

Satoru told you this once during the many phone calls, and emails, and chats you had with him. Most sorcerers are born, not made. Most come from lineages of families who also have cursed energy.

In other words, you having this power, could not be a coincidence.

"Ken was born and raised in the states." You start. You watch your nails, overgrown, unkept, you need to fix that in the following days. "His parents became my parents. They were my real family, more so than my biological ones."

They were still your family. Ken's mother was especially distraught when you told her that you and Chirasmi were leaving. She made you promise you'd call everyday. You made her promise she'd come visit you in Japan.

You don't know why you said that. It isn't what Satoru was looking for. You ignore his eyes, piercing, scanning.

You clear your throat. "My parents immigrated before they had me. They came from Junbesi, but I'm not too sure of my extended family. They never liked speaking about them. I believe they were monks? Something along those lines."

"Monks, hm?" Satoru repeats, "interesting."

"Again, I don't know much about my family." You repeat. "My parents passed away decades ago. Ken's parents and Chirasmi were the only family I had."

It's silent again. You peek over. He's thinking, hand resting on his chin, cheeks puffed up ever so slightly. He looks like a child. You find yourself laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing." You say, thinking some more about your family, your mother especially.

Before they passed, both of your parents made sure you were loved. You were a happy child, a little spoiled, never left wanting. You miss them everyday, but your mother you especially remember. Your last memories of her were when the grays of her hairs started to show. You never liked them. When you were younger, a bit more impulsive, you'd sneak behind her, before plucking them off, strand by strand. She'd yell and complain, but you didn't stop, not for a long while. You never liked seeing her mortality.

No child wants to remember their parents are human.

"Either way, I don't think my extended family were good people." You continue on. "My mother would often say how she hoped I'd never turn out like my grandmother. She never gave any details, but she said that more than enough times for it to stick."

He's still silent. You give him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, if I wasn't any help."

He's back to his casual demeanor, waving your worries away.

"No, this is great. You gave me a lot to work with," he says, "Junbesi, right? That place sounds familiar, I might have someone look into it."

You nod along, grateful he isn't frustrated with your responses. Still, something nags at you.

"Satoru, I've been meaning to ask." You feel your voice grow to a whisper like you're afraid someone will overhear. It's ridiculous, there's no one within earshot.

"If this power is genetic...is there a chance Chirasmi has it too?"

He thinks for a minute, careful, cautious.

“Most sorcerers get their technique before the age of 6. Anything past that is rare. From what I’m seeing, your daughter has a standard amount of cursed energy.”

The best news you could ever receive. The relief on your face must be obvious.

“You’re one of the only parents I’ve seen who’s glad their kid isn’t a sorcerer.” Satoru laughs.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You respond. “I don’t want her…seeing those things.” Dead eyes, too long, too thin, too deadly.

“She should live a normal life. Well, as normal as possible.” You start fiddling with your nails. “Maybe if she gets her power–um, technique–a little later in life then it would be a different story, but six? That’s how young sorcerers start? It’s…I can’t allow that.”

She deserves to be a kid. It’s not her fault her stupid parent is a monster magnet. Part of you wonders if there’s a way to get rid of this power altogether, just so the curses would stop following you, and more importantly, your daughter.

You want to ask him, but you feel like you’ve pestered Satoru enough with your questions, and this is a long flight.

“Any refreshments?” The same attendant lugs a cart behind her. Chirasmi must still be talking with the pilots.

“Orange juice.” Satoru chirps and the attendant cheerily brings him a cup.

“Orange juice.” You repeat, a bit amused. He waves you off.

“My go-to. Tastes better than alcohol. Yuck.” You laugh at the absurdity of it all–A rich, powerful wizard sitting in a private jet, drinking orange juice.

Maybe Satoru isn’t as complicated as you think he is.

Sure, why not?

“I’ll take the same thing.”

~

The school is beautiful.

Everything in Japan is beautiful, honestly. You’ve heard Tokyo is the largest city in the world, and yet it’s so pristine, practically glittering. Getting away from the city, the countryside is just as alluring. Large, expansive forests give way to man-made clearings.

You step out of the car right after Chirasmi. The school grounds stretch on for miles and miles. The culture is steeped to the brim. You see gorgeous statues and well-preserved rock roads.

You watch as Satoru’s assistant shuffles around with your bags. You wince when he nearly stumbles. Ijichi, right? Or at least that’s what Satoru called him in the airport.

“I could take some if you want.” You offer.

“No need!” Ijichi responds, voice a bit higher than it should be. “I can take them myself! Thank you!”

Satoru says something to him in Japanese. Ijichi’s voice gets even higher, and you suddenly remember that you’d have to learn an entirely new language on top of everything.

“Don’t worry about him.” Satoru assures, ushering you forward. “He’s used to it.”

You watch as Ijichi almost drops another bag on his foot before you decide to save the man his dignity and turn away.

Once again, you’re blown away by the scenery. Chirasmi is already yards away. She awes at moss-lined lion statues. She tilts her head over bridges, watching the river, searching for tiny fish. You want to call her back to your side, but you can’t. You’re too distracted.

“I can’t believe this is a high school.” You awe, walking around the campus. “Not even U.S. colleges are this extravagant just…incredible.” Sorcerers must be teeming with money. You can’t fathom how else they could fund this otherwise.

Satoru is right next to you, drinking in all your amazement.

”Old money.” He tells you as you two cross the bridge, ambly following Chirasmi’s trail. “Sorcerers have been around for generations. We might be hands deep in bullshit customs and traditions, but having generational wealth isn’t so bad.”

It’s not hard to notice the bite in his voice. You will yourself to ignore it.

“Do you also stay here?” You ask. “On campus, I mean.”

He hums. “Maybe we’ll be neighbors. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

You don’t answer, knowing he only wants to prick you again. Needle, needle, and needle.

”It does.” You tell him instead.

You look across the bridge, trying to relocate Chirasmi. When you finally do, a thin line falls over your lips. You quicken your pace ever so slightly.

“Chirasmi!” You call, quick to get her away from the strangers. “Come here.”

She follows immediately, coming to hide behind you. Even she was startled by the men’s sudden presence. There are four of them, each dressed in traditional robes. They don’t look particularly impressed by her. When they trail their gaze at you, their eyes further darken. Wonderful.

Still, you plant a smile on your face, not wanting to be seen as rude.

“I’m sorry about her.” You apologize even when you know she did nothing. “She’s just curious.”

They say nothing, staring at you like you’re a wad of gum strapped on their shoes. They mutter something in Japanese, clearly speaking to Satoru.

He’s standing next to you, answering back with a cheery lilt in his voice. Whatever he said seemed to dampen their mood even further.

You only turn to him when they walk away, drifting back from wherever they came from.

“What did they say?” You ask him. “And who were they?”

“Those are the people that keep Jujutsu society alive,” Satoru tells you. “The higher ups. They’re our leaders, basically.”

“Oh.” You respond, starting to regret how distrustful you were. “Maybe I should’ve made a better impression then. I mean, they are allowing me to stay here. It’s the least I could do.”

He sucks in his teeth. You hold your breath.

“Yeah, funny story.” He tells you. “They don’t really want you here.”

You stare at him.

“What?”

“Well, when I submitted your plea, they unanimously rejected it, so I just brought you along anyway.” He tells you. “A win-win for both of us!”

“No, it’s not a win-win.” You nearly spit out. “How could you not tell me?”

“Why would I?” He genuinely asks. “It’s not like it matters.”

“Not like it–yes, it matters!” You feel the hint of a migraine creeping over your brain. “If they don’t want me here, then how can I stay?”

“Of course you can. I’m allowing you to stay.”

“You just said they were the higher-ups.” You tell him. “They outrank you.”

“Hm, technically, but it doesn’t matter.” He waves you off. “After all, I’m the strongest.”

“What?” You squint your eyes at him. “What does that even mean?”

He’s still smiling. The more you look at it, the more infuriating it gets.

“Trust me, the only permission you need is from me.” He tells you, before he turns away.

You want to continue the conversation, but he’s already moved on. He and Chirasmi are wandering up the sidewalk, and you have no choice but to follow. It’s barely been a day since you got here, and you can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake.

At least the room is nice.

It isn’t really a room, it was more of an apartment. Slightly bigger than your old space. There are two bedrooms, one of which Chirasmi immediately claims. The kitchen is wide, and you like the window right above the sink, featuring a pretty sight of a grassy field. The space is empty, just ready to be filled and decorated with life.

“Technically, this is a rest area when high-ranking clan leaders visit the school,” Satoru tells you as you admire the window. “But I managed to pull some strings.”

“It’s beautiful.” You’d already seen it in pictures, but seeing it in person is much better. In your head, you’re already telling yourself what trinkets to decorate the shelves with, what pictures should go where, where Chirasmi’s rainboots and jackets will go.

Maybe living in Japan wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

“The other students live on-campus, too, right?” You ask him.

“They do. Their dorms are on the other side. We’re in the teacher’s ward right now.”

“Aren’t you a teacher?” You question. “How many kids do you teach?”

“Four.”

You furrow your eyes. “Oh, do Japanese schools have smaller classes?”

“No, but there’s only four students in the entire grade.” Satoru shrugs. “Like I said, sorcerers aren’t common.”

True, but you didn’t know they were that rare. Maybe that’s why he was so insistent on you coming here. You can’t even begin to imagine how understaffed they were.

“I’ll give you two the rest of the day to settle in,” Satoru tells you as you awe at the ceiling. “Buuuut before I go, I got two things for you.”

You look over just in time for him to see him take something out of his pocket. He waves around a pair of glasses.

“These glasses are imbued with cursed energy, I figure it’d solve your ‘not able to see curses’ issue,” He tells you before handing it over. “Be careful with them. They’re pretty hard to make and–”

The glasses last two seconds in your hands before they splinter.

You watch as shards crumble to the ground. The frames are all that’s left in your hand.

You silently hand the glasses back. Satoru wordlessly accepts.

He puts a hand on his chin. “Hm, wasn’t expecting that.”

“I swear I didn’t do anything.” You tell him immediately. “They–they just did that on their own and–”

“This is awkward.” He sighs. “I’d hate to be the one who tells Maki. These were her favorite pair. She gets really scary when she’s angry.”

Maki? Who is that? Did you just accidentally piss off a powerful wizard? Satoru barely lingers on the bad news, immediately shrugging.

“I guess I’ll leave that to Ijichi.” He says to himself. “But this could be a problem. If your cursed energy is too high for glasses, then you definitely can’t handle cursed weapons.”

“So what happened?” You ask him. “How did I…break it?”

“I wouldn’t say you broke it, necessarily. You just absorbed the cursed energy.” He explains. “Interesting. You can absorb cursed energy from objects, not just curses.”

Well, at least he doesn’t seem too mad about you breaking an artifact. That’s relieving.

“You said you had something else to give me?” You prompt.

“Right.” Satoru pulls out an envelope. “For you! Think of it as another incentive to stay here with us.”

Thankfully, the envelope doesn’t shred the moment you touch it. You fiddle with the flap as Satoru waves his goodbyes.

He’s out the door by the time you pull out the check. Your eyes widen at the number of zeros.

Yeah, maybe staying here won’t be too bad.

~

“Do you have your lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have notebooks?”

“Yes.”

“A pen? A pencil?”

“Yes.”

“Again, are you sure you have your–”

“Mom.” Chirasmi whines. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Right right.” You quickly give a kiss on her forehead, before urging her off. “Okay, have fun, Chira.”

She hurries off, her backpack a bit too big for her, making her wobble a bit. You watch until she disappears into the doors, and then you watch a little more.

It takes you a few minutes to gain the courage to walk away. Thankfully, Ijichi is still waiting in the same spot you left him, strapped in the driver’s seat, with the car still running. You slide into the back, shooting him a sheepish smile.

“Thanks again for dropping us off.” You tell him. “I didn’t want her to be late.”

“No problem.” Ijichi kindly tells you.

Chirasmi isn’t a sorcerer, so she can’t be taught at Jujutsu academy (nor would you want her to), luckily there was a reputable international school nearby. The teachers there mostly teach in English, so Chirasmi won’t have too big of a language barrier. You shouldn’t be so nervous. Chirasmi is a bright and happy kid. She’d been through the first day of school before. She’d make friends. She’d be just fine.

Nearly three weeks have passed since you landed in Japan. You think you are starting to settle in. Bit by bit you are starting to pick up the language, just some words and phrases here and there. You’d also met people who are a lot nicer than those judgemental old men. You gotten along with Ijichi as well as a couple of other windows.

Outside of Jujutsu high, you’ve met some other international friends who are also in the same boat as you: unfamiliar with the language, and very out of their element. As much as it’s nice to immerse yourself in another country, you do like the brief moments of familiarity here and there.

Satoru, of course, has continued in his quest to make you break various artifacts.

The glasses were just the start of his journey. He’s asked you to handle statues that splintered upon contact. Ancient-looking scrolls immediately combusted in your hand. It was extremely embarrassing. To make it worse, each time he’d cheer like you performed some type of party trick.

Repeatedly, you’d been assured that it was good that these objects broke. You were exorcising the cursed energy from them, while absorbing the CE within your own system. From your perspective, it just looked like you were destroying centuries-old Japanese artifacts, but maybe it’s because you can’t see cursed energy like other sorcerers can.

If you’re being honest, breaking these things feels like you were being tested somehow. This is all just a pretense for something greater.

Though not as pressing, for the last three weeks you’ve been here, you still can’t read Satoru.

You constantly find yourself flip-flopping back and forth. You know him. You don’t know him. He reminds you of that mountain story. At first, you look at the peaks and decide the mountain range won’t be that complicated, but once you reach the top of the first summit, you see all the other higher mountains.

There’s a wall he’s built between himself and the rest of the world. And you don’t think it’s made up of just his infinity.

Honestly, it wouldn’t bother you all that much, but considering he is technically your boss, you’d like to break the ice at least a tiny bit with him.

The car rolls to a stop and you finally arrive back at the school. You once again thank Ijichi before setting off back to your apartment. Now that you think about it, this would be the first time in a while where you wouldn’t be hanging out with Chirasmi. She’d be off in school, having her own little adventures and you’d be…here.

A happy ding comes from your pocket. You pull out your phone.

Satoru’s name flashes on your screen.

Your next mission’s here (✦ ‿ ✦) Meet me in the courtyard!!!

You read it over, before typing out:

What is it?

His reply comes not even a minute later.

(≧ヮ≦) It’s a surprise!!!!

Mysterious as always, typical. And where did he learn to text from? He sounds even more incoherent than a 5-year old experiencing a sugar rush for the first time.

Still, your walk to the courtyard isn’t too uneventful.

You see them. Two of them to be exact.

A girl and a boy are walking together. The girl is holding a large staff, while the boy’s hands are bare.

They’re Satoru’s students. You recognize them from when you accidentally stumbled upon him training them. Well, it was more like he was beating them up, but you were assured it was training.

You haven’t met them officially, but you know their names. The girl is Maki, and the boy is Yuta. Yuta is a little like you. He is also fairly new to the world of jujutsu.

Chirasmi has met them as well. She apparently had also met the Panda and the quiet one—Toge. From her ramblings, it seems like they liked her quite a bit.

You, on the other hand, aren’t so lucky.

They spot you eventually. Before you can raise a hand to wave at them, Maki is quickly grabbing onto the boy’s collar, dragging him away. It’d be a hilarious sight, if you weren’t a little offended.

Offended, not surprised. Similar things have been happening to you.

It took a while for you to notice it, but people don’t seem to be a fan of you. Most tend to avoid you, but some even glare at you from meters away. Apart from Satoru and Ijichi, the sorcerer community aren’t too happy about you.

At first, you assumed it was because you were a foreigner, but wouldn’t they extend that same vitriol to Chirasmi too? They haven’t, which you’re grateful for, but it is odd.

In the courtyard, Satoru is waiting for you. You see some other people you weren’t expecting.

A small crowd had gathered. You spot the school’s doctor, Ieiri, looking bored as always. There was also a couple of elderly looking men, wearing traditional robes and eyeing you with that same amount of disgust.

Oh, the higher ups. It seems as though, today, Satoru wanted to show off your little talent show.

When you walk up to him, his grin only seems to get wider.

“Should I be worried about this?” You ask.

“Nah.” He tells you in a tone that assures you you very much should be worried.

”Anyway, today, your mission is this!” He holds up a small box, pulling out an object covered in ancient white cloth.

“Hold it for me, will ya?” He extends it to you. You take it without a second glance.

Someone gives a shocked gasp, and you sharply look up. Were you not supposed to take it?

“What do you feel?” Satoru prods.

“Uh, nothing?” You say, investigating the wrappings. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you open it and find out.” He grins.

Well, it can’t be a bomb or anything like that. Satoru might be able to tank it, but the rest of the crowd won’t. Still, as you continue to unwrap the object, the voices of protest get louder and louder. Satoru raises a hand, silencing them. He gives you a nod.

“Open it.”

It’s like unwrapping a present you know isn’t meant for you. Tearing through the cloth is easy, but the voices of the higher ups, Satoru’s wide smile, are all telling you this is a bad idea.

As soon as you make contact with it, it starts to melt in your hands, like wax. You stare at it for a bit, trying to find out why it looks so off-putting.

Then, you scream and drop it.

“What the fuck. What the fuck!” Your voice is so shrill, it’s blowing out your eardrums. “Is that a fucking finger!?”

Unmoved by your terror, Satoru leans down, picking it up like it was candy. He shows the mummified finger to the rest of the ground, speaking something in Japanese that you don’t really care about at this moment.

He turns back to you, extending—again—a fucking severed finger.

“No.” You immediately rebuke. “I’m not touching that again. What’s wrong with you? Why would you give someone—“

“Take it.” Satoru insists.

“Absolutely not.” You rebel, fuming and angry and disgusted.

Despite your struggles, he takes your hand, unfurling it, before he drops the finger into your palm. You nearly gag as he closes his hand around yours.

He’s not listening to you, and you can’t break away, so you have to stand there with your eyes shut as the severed mummified finger continues to melt in your clenched fist. Satoru only lets your hand unfurl once the finger has melted into a tiny, disgusting, pink puddle. You watch as the puddle evaporates into nothing, not even leaving a trace behind.

“That settles it, then.” He speaks so softly. His eyes are covered in that blindfold, but you know he’s looking at you. “You are incredible.”

His words do nothing to amuse you. Before you can completely go off on him, he’s turning back to the crowd, who are all bustling with questions. He seems to calm them down, going by one by one. Ieiri seems to already be leaving. Makes sense, she has better things to do than watch you freak out over touching fingers.

Still, when she meets your eyes, she flashes a quick smile. It’s the most emotion you’ve ever managed to get out of her.

Once Satoru comes back to you, you’ve calmed down a tiny bit, but you’re still seething. You are fully prepared to give him the silent treatment, frowning even harder when he whines.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” He pouts. “Are you still mad?”

“You made me hold a fucking finger.” You nearly hiss, before shuddering. “Ugh, I think I can still feel it.” You aggressively start rubbing on your palm. It does nothing.

“Oh, c’mon, if I’d told you, you never would’ve touched it.” He tries to convince you. “Don’t be mad, pretty please? I’ll make it up to you. Lemme buy you dinner.”

“Oh, so you can feed me human eyeballs, next?”

“Normal food.” He insists. “Anywhere you want! My treat. And on top of that, I’ll explain everything.”

Somehow you agree, despite everything. He takes you to the fanciest place you’ve ever been. The floors must be polished with gold, and the tables are covered with rich-soft velvet. What’s more, he must have booked out the entire floor of the restaurant because the rest of the tables are empty. The only other source of human activity around are the occasional waitresses refilling your drinks.

Satoru cleans up rather well. He’s ditched his blindfold for those signature sunglasses and an expensive looking suit. You are also wrapped into something equally as luxurious, courtesy of the man in front of you.

It’s not a good apology, but it is an expensive one.

“Okay, so he was a human turned cursed spirit.” You summarize. “That can happen? I didn’t know that.”

“If you curse someone long enough, anything can happen.” Satoru tells you.

You pick up your wine glass, tasting the sweet ambrosia. Wonderfully aged, you can taste it on your lips.

“After he was defeated, Sukuna’s cursed energy was fragmented and put into his numerous fingers. Throughout the centuries, sorcerers have tried and failed to destroy these essences.”

“Until now.” You counter.

“Yup!” Satoru cheerfully says. “Until now. I knew there was something special about you.”

You hum, very unamused. “So, is this my job now? Go around and melt fingers for you guys?”

He nods, not even trying to hide his intentions. “As well as other cursed objects. I don’t think we’ll be sending you out on any active missions anytime soon, your technique is way too valuable. In other news, the higher ups are very pleased by you. You might become their favorite at this rate.”

Right, like you want that. From your brief time with them, the higher ups don’t really seem like all that much to admire. If anything, they kind of feel like hassles you need to avoid.

Speaking of being liked—

“Got a question.” You start, playing with your food with your fork. “I’ve noticed that a lot of the people around…don’t like me very much.”

“What?” He asks. “You think that has something to do with me?”

“Not until now.” You quirk your brow. “Did you do something?”

His only answer is a laugh.

“Your technique, though extremely unique, has a few similarities with another sorcerer. Well sorcerer-turned-curse-user. He could also absorb curses. He couldn’t do what you do with cursed objects, but any curses he absorbed, he could also control.”

You glance down at your hands. To ever have that kind of power.

“Wow.” You play with your fingernails. “I know curse-users are evil but…he sounds amazing.” You’re half-tempted to prod Satoru for his name, maybe you could learn a thing or two from the man.

Satoru doesn’t respond. Instead he moves away, into something else.

“Something you might find even more interesting.” He rests his chin on an elegant hand. “We might have dug into your family a tiny bit.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head. “Find anything?”

“Lots.” He eagerly answers. “Ever heard of a little province called Lumbini?”

“No?” You frown. “But I’m guessing that’s where my family line comes from, right?”

“Precisely.” Satoru agrees. “And if what we’ve found is correct, your family line might be one of the oldest families of sorcerers in history. Far before Buddhism ever even reached the East.”

“Wow.” You nod. “Amazing. What else?”

He’s not too impressed by your reaction.

“C’mon, be more excited. This is a generational discovery! You and your daughter might be one of the last descendants of a clan we thought were wiped out centuries ago.”

“It isn’t not amazing.” You stress. “But I’m more interested in what that means for Chira specifically.”

He pouts, but you’re quick to brush his reaction off. He moves on eventually.

“Well, we have learned that your technique is an inherited one. Specifically, it’s mostly passed down from the maternal side of the family.”

“My grandmother,” you realize, remembering your parents' words. “…does that mean she had this, too?”

He nods. “Most likely. From what we’ve seen, it skips a generation.”

So Chirasmi is definitely normal then. That’s good to hear.

“There’s one other thing.” His tone peters off. There’s a harsh line of his lips.

“Apparently, those who are born with this technique, are cursed with suffering.”

His words simmer in your ears. You take another sip of the wine, tasting the bitter-sweet fragrance.

“My husband passed away before he could even meet our daughter. I barely remember my parents’ faces. How much more can I suffer?”

Satoru leans forward, keeping his attention entirely on you.

“What?” You prod.

“I meant what I said earlier.” His eyes linger on you. “You are incredible.”

You frown. If he thinks he can get away from your ire by complimenting you, he is sorely mistaken.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, young man.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I figured.”

~

It rains later that night. Thunder rumbles in the sky. Lightning flashes overhead.

You don’t truly awaken until someone shakes your shoulder.

“Chira?” You question, blinking tiredly. “What’s wrong?”

She frowns, anxiety gnawing at her lips. She gives a worried glance at the window. Thunder booms above.

You smile, raising the blankets. “C’mon. Get in.”

She snuggles right in, attaching herself to you like Velcro. Already she’s relaxing in your hold, pushing her head against the pillow.

Minutes later, you think she’s asleep before she says in a soft voice, “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” You glance down in the darkness. “Why?”

Chirasmi shuffles, you feel her nestle into your chest.

“Sorry for waking you up. I should’ve been a big girl.” She mutters.

You give a breathless laugh.

“That’s okay.” You tell her. “Honestly, I think I’d like it if you stayed my little girl for just a teeny bit longer.”

You kiss her temple. She gives the sweetest little giggle. It reminds you of something.

“Your birthday’s coming in a few months, right?” You pretend to hum and think. “What day was it again? Maycember 19th?”

She laughs. “No, mommy! That day doesn’t exist!”

“Oh, really?” You shake your head, pretending like you’d forgotten the most important day of your life. “What day is your birthday on, then?”

“June 7th.” She ‘reminds’ you.

“Ah! Now I remember! What would you like to do for your birthday this year?”

She begins her babbling, telling you all the things she wants for her ninth birthday. You hum and gently rock your bodies, hearing her voice getting drowsier and drowsier.

When you finally drift off to sleep, you think Satoru was wrong.

Maybe you aren’t so cursed after all.

~

Months later, Chirasmi says something that breaks your heart.

Your Japanese has improved marginally. At least now you can venture outside and partake in superficial conversation with the native Japanese population. Chirasmi, on the other hand, has bloomed in her new environment. She speaks Japanese so quickly these days, you have to ask for her to slow down. Maybe you should just ask her to tutor you.

She’s becoming more independent too, these days. By the time you’re making breakfast, she has already bathed and dressed herself. Her uniform is always neatly done by the time she hops onto the barstool. She talks rapidly about school and her new friends and you’re glad she’s hitting her stride here.

Today, when you get to the kitchen, she’s already outside enjoying the morning sun.

Satoru is out with her, too.

You give them a minute before barging in. Chirasmi adores Satoru. Her eyes always light up whenever he comes around, and he always is more than happy to match her vibrancy. You encourage their relationship as much as you can. As much as you try to be there for her, you know Chirasmi lacks a positive male-figure in her life. Maybe Satoru can fill that hole a bit.

Maybe not fatherly, he’s far too young for that. Brotherly, maybe?

You step out of the house eventually, watching them babble. Chirasmi spots you first.

“Mommy!” She squeals. “Did you know Mister Gojo is a superhero? He can fly!”

“Can he?” You smile. “Well, this is a secret, but I’ll tell you anyway: Mommy’s a hero, too!”

You can just imagine the awe in her face, the sparkle in her eyes.

“No, you’re not, Mommy.” Chirasmi frowns. “You can’t fly.”

“Oh…” You try not to die on the inside.

“I’m gonna grab my backpack now. Bye, Mister Gojo!”

At least Satoru tries to keep your dignity intact. He holds in his laughter until Chirasmi disappears back inside the house.

“Shut up.” You tell him, but you’re barely heard over his laugh. Bastard.

He follows you back into the apartment. By the time you’re indoors again, Chirasmi has already put on her shoes.

“That was fast.” You tell her. “Give me a minute. I’ll grab my phone and we can walk to campus, okay?”

“Um, actually.” Her tiny voice stops you. When you glance at her, Chirasmi looks a little bashful.

“I was thinking…I could walk to school myself, today.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Chira, Mommy’s glad you want to try something new, but that might be a little dangerous.”

“The school isn’t that far from here.” She defends. “And I know the route. Besides…all my friends walk to school alone.”

Now that you thought about it, you hadn’t seen any other parent walking their children to school. Still…leaving your child to walk the busy streets of a foreign country. It doesn't sit right with you.

“Most parents here start sending their kids alone as young as age four.” You had a feeling Satoru would step in to defend her. “It’s perfectly safe. By age six, most of them learn how to navigate the subways.” Damn, even you can’t do that yet.

You aren’t sure. You don’t think the neighborhood is all that dangerous, but American paranoia has followed you: Stranger danger, reckless drivers, and so many more. Still, you don’t want to ostracize her from her friends. You know how mean kids can get.

Eventually, you sigh. “Okay. Sure. Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”

Chirasmi beams. She gives you a big hug before she zips out the door. The frown is still planted on your face. You wait a few minutes.

“Okay, let’s go.” You tell Satoru.

“Are we following her?” He asks, you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Obviously.” You tell him. “Keep up, Satoru.”

You don’t claim to be a stealth master, but it’s awfully easy to hide your presence from an eight-year-old. You and Satoru keep yourselves a short distance away, close enough to interfere if anything happens, but far away enough that she doesn’t spot you. You can’t lie and say that you aren’t filled with anxiety every time she crosses a busy crosswalk or switches roads. By the end of the journey, you are an anxious mess.

Satoru, on the other hand, was having a blast. He was practically giggling as you hovered over her. You were extremely close to just smothering him with his blindfold at times. How kind of him to have a kick out of the worst time of your life.

“Oh wow.” You watch as Chirasmi enters the school grounds. A few of the other kids greet her before they all enter the school. “...She did it.”

Pride. It swells up from your chest. “I knew she could do it.”

“Really? Then why did we trail her?” Satoru asks, always the one to ruin the mood.

You roll your eyes.

“Hey, use your Eyes.” You prod. “Is she already in class?”

“Is that all I am to you?” He asks. “Some glorified X-ray?”

“If you’re here, might as well be useful.”

“Ouch.” But his smile and the way he tugs down his blindfold tells you all that you need to know.

“She’s in there.” He tells you. The school bell rings. “And just in time, too.”

You give a sigh of relief, the anxiety washing itself away. “Good. That’s…Good.”

“Piece of advice, Satoru, never have kids.” You tell him. “The worry makes you age by fifteen years.”

His lips quirk up in amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Still, though.” You turn your head back to the school, watching a small trickle of children fluttering past the doors. “I’m really glad I saw this. Maybe I don’t need to be as worried for her as I thought I did.”

For eight years, you’ve taken care of her. Fed her, bathed her, clothed her, watched over her every move and gesture. But as you watch your daughter traverse this strange new world with such confidence, maybe you won’t need to worry about her as much anymore.

Maybe, you wouldn’t need to be just a mother anymore.

“You know, before I had Chirasmi, I never really had anything to look forward to.” You start, your voice still but sure in the quiet. “I always just…went through the steps. As much as I adored Ken I…I don’t think I married him for the right reasons. I–I don’t think I loved anyone until–”

Until she came. Until you held that wailing bundle in your arms. Until you pressed your lips on her tiny forehead, murmuring a promise that’ll only ever be heard between her and you.

“She filled my life with color.” You finally respond. “She…became everything to me. My entire life.”

Satoru’s silent. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him be so quiet. You blink, suddenly feeling bashful.

“Sorry,” you tell him with a sheepish laugh. “I…don’t really know why I told you all that.”

His blindfold is still off. He’s clutching it in his hands. The entirety of the blue sky stares back at you. You wonder how many years you’d have to stay there to count each shade.

“Do you remember that curse-user I told you about?”

“Yes.” You admit.

“He didn’t start out that way. He was changed. The curses changed him. Eating them made him stronger, but they also were rotting him from the inside.”

You latch onto his tone, his words. The bite in his voice. He’d known this person.

“-What makes you so different?” He asks you.

How will you stop yourself from becoming that?

“I won’t become like him.” You say, voice resolute. “I love my daughter too much to even think about it.”

“That’s not enough.”

You watch him. You watch the crystals in his eyes sparkle. His silky white hair blows ever so softly in the breeze.

“I have you, don’t I?” You reply, voice soft, barely above a whisper. “You’ll stop me.”

Maybe he understands. Maybe he doesn’t. You can’t tell.

The ice in his eyes melts just the tiniest bit.

“What’s your entire life?” You find yourself asking.

“What?”

You shrug, looking back at the elementary school, admiring the architecture. Each brick is placed delicately on top of the other. Cohesion. Each one needed the other to stand.

“I mean, we’ve been friends for a couple months now, but I don’t think I know a single thing about you.”

You know the facts of Gojo Satoru. You know he comes from a big Clan. You know he’s the strongest sorcerer alive. You don’t know his likes. His dislikes. What’s his favorite movie? What’s his least favorite flavour? Has he ever gotten cavities? You don’t know anything that proves he is human.

But, for the first time, it seems as though you’ve caught Satoru off guard. He’s lagging behind your words. Stumbling, but unable to fully catch up.

“Friends?” He repeats.

“Aren’t we?” You almost laugh, but you stop yourself. “I’d like to think so.”

He doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t really have to. You’d never push him.

“Teaching.” He answers. His voice is sure. “I want my students to get stronger, so they can still be together, regardless.”

You hum.

“That’s really beautiful.” You respond. “I like that.”

The sounds of the city bring you back. A car honks. Someone walks by. The sudden realism makes you realize how crazy this is. You just dragged a mega-powerful wizard along to ensure your daughter got safely to school.

“Thanks for helping me stalk my daughter.” You say.

He laughs. It’s the brightest you’ve ever heard.

“Yeah,” he says, voice light. “What are friends for?”

~

Typically, you don’t go out finger-hunting, but there are always exceptions. This exception came because today was one of the few times where you are partnered with a sorcerer that isn’t Satoru.

“It’s just up ahead.” Megumi tells you, gesturing out the car window.

You follow his gaze, peeking out to awe at the campus.

“It’s strange that a powerful cursed object would be placed at a school of all places.” You comment. It sounds unsafe. The fact that Chirasmi could easily be one of those students wandering around campus makes you shudder.

“Powerful cursed objects are often used as deterrents for other curses. It’s mainly ‘cuz, we had no idea what to do with the fingers until now.” He admits. Okay, fair.

It’s been roughly a year since you've entered jujutsu society. A lot of things have changed since then. You’re near fluent in Japanese, and your standing in jujutsu society has increased significantly. You’re no longer the foreigner who ‘accidentally fell’ into the world of jujutsu. People…actually respect you, these days. Oftentimes, you’re stopped by other sorcerers who come up to you with concerns about their own versions of cursed-objects. You’re pretty sure people see you as some type of cursed-object expert, even though all you do is absorb cursed energy.

Yeah, so many things have changed. Even if you don’t feel so different, these days. You feel like you, just with more influence, and a whole lot more work.

Stepping out of the car, you follow Megumi’s lead onto campus. It’s already evening. Most of the students have left the school grounds.

Megumi already knows where to look. You’re following him without a second thought. The sun is starting to dip underneath the horizon. The sky turns to orange, then purple, then blue.

It’s a rather normal looking box. You’d probably overlook it if it didn’t feel so off. The wood is a little textured and old. Megumi pulls open the lid, reaching out for the seal.

He hands it to you. You confiscate it in your pocket. You usually don’t absorb cursed energy out in the open. It’s a rather tedious process, and you’d rather not draw attention.

“I’ll break the seal when we get back.” You tell him.

Megumi nods. “Great, then. Oh, wait—“ He cuts himself off. You stare at him.

“Everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He nods, resuming his earlier demeanor. “There was a curse nearby. You just took care of it.”

That’s another thing. Since you’ve come here, your cursed energy has skyrocketed exponentially.

You suppose it’s because there’s more curses in Japan to absorb. From what other sorcerers have told you, your cursed energy’s ’force field’ has grown stronger since you landed. It’s gotten bigger too. Earlier, you had to touch a curse to absorb it. Now, you just need to be in close proximity to a curse. There doesn’t seem to be a limit as to how big your CE will get.

Theoretically, it could stretch on for miles.

The only downside is your lack of sensitivity to curses. You used to be able to see grades 2 and up, but nowadays, you can only see higher-end special grades.

You follow Megumi back to the car, away from the school. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you spot something.

There’s a boy with pink hair, smiling and laughing with his friends.

~

When the car pulls up to Jujutsu High, Maki is waiting. She’s leaning on one of her weapons–a long staff this time. You ignore Megumi’s clear reluctance to step out of the car. He tends to dislike most of his fellow peers, so you’re used to it.

Maki is always quick to follow. She’s giving him a face before she turns to you.

“Sensei.” She greets.

You smile back. Things with you and Satoru’s students have significantly gotten better. Once they realized you weren’t like the curse-user, they slowly began to warm up to you. It also helped that you can speak a lot more words in their native language.

“Oh.” You glance around. “Is Yuta gone? I was hoping I could see him before he and Mr. Miguel left.”

“They left for the airport an hour ago.” She responds bluntly, before narrowing her eyes at Megumi. “What gives? You were supposed to be back hours ago.”

“There was a hold up at the station.” He responds gruffly. “But we made it.”

She rolls her eyes, and you cut in.

“You should go get some rest.” You tell him apologetically. “It was a long trip.”

He’s humming, but he complies. You watch him go, before glancing at Maki.

“You should be a little less harsh on him.” You gently chide.

She rolls her eyes. “Well, Sensei, he should learn to take it.” But she doesn’t argue further.

“I still can’t get used to that title.” You confess. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered! But the only ‘teaching’ I’ve ever done was helping you with algebra.”

“That’s plenty more than what Gojo does.” Maki tells you. “During one of my first missions, he abandoned me for some mochi pop-up shop.”

You try not to laugh, but that does sound like him.

Your phone lights up.

o(≧▽≦)o Conference time! Don't be late!!!

Speak of the devil.

“That’s my cue.” You tell her with exasperation. “The higher-ups are already pretty displeased with me. I don’t want my tardiness to be another tally.”

She’s silent as you wave to her. Just when you’re about to leave entirely, she opens her mouth.

“Sensei?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re…friends with the guy, right? Gojo, I mean.”

You know you should chide her for referencing Satoru as ‘the guy’, but you hold your tongue this time. The look on Maki’s face seems awfully…uneasy.

“Yeah.” You tell her.

She nods.

“Don’t take what I say seriously or anything.” She tells you, first, “...But…I feel like you should be careful of him.”

“What?” You tilt your head. “Why?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Maybe I’m thinking too much but…the stuff he says about you during class is a little worrying.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but before you can pester her any further, she’s already walking off. You watch her retreating back.

Strange, you can only think. How strange.

~

Before you can enter the daunting building, Satoru is standing in front of the doors.

“How mad are they?”

“They’re in pretty good spirits, actually!” Satoru cheerfully responds as he holds the door open. You don’t want to believe him, but you take his words regardless.

From the moment you stepped onto Japanese soil, all of the higher-ups instantly disdained you. You’re pretty sure it has to do with the fact that your technique is pretty similar to the curse-user that Satoru talked about. Still, it’s a pretty stupid reason. Your technique is passive. It’s not like you can ever use it for actual harm.

Fear always makes people assume the worst.

“It’s always so dark in here.” You mutter as you walk through the halls. “They could at least add some lightbulbs instead of candles and lamps.”

“They like their aesthetics.” Satoru supplies. “Very gothic, hm? My own clan house is decorated this way too. Maybe I’ll take you there someday.”

“No, thank you.” You instantly rebuff. “If it’s like this place, I’d very much like not to.”

He pouts, but doesn’t push any further.

Eventually, you get into the main room of Jujutsu headquarters. Everything here is steeped in tradition. The room is dim, lit with a singular candle. Figures are already seated behind fabric doors, waiting for you to arrive.

“Greetings, Sufferer’s Descendant.” One says. You try not to make a face.

That’s what the higher-ups have elected to call you, inspired by the ominous message of your technique. At this point, it’s a bit overdone.

“You have made great contributions to the jujutsu world since you have come here.” Another continues. “Since your ability has been discovered, one-fifth of Ryomen Sukuna’s power has been demolished from Earth. The entirety of jujutsu society is greatly indebted to you.”

You blink. Okay, you weren’t expecting that. Last time you had a run-in with the elders, they were pissed you kept breaking cursed artifacts (which was 1000% Satoru’s fault). Now, they’re thanking you?

Surprising, but not unwelcoming. Maybe this is what Satoru meant by them being in good moods.

“No, thank you.” You respond, as politely as you can. “I am grateful for the help you have given both to me and your daughter. It’s an honor to work under you.”

There’s a snicker behind you. Knowing who it is, you ignore it.

“Yes.” One of them acknowledges. “Since you have done us a great service, we have decided to reward you by properly incorporating you into jujutsu society.”

Seriously? Well, it’s about time. You’ve been an unranked sorcerer for nearly a year now. Technically, you aren’t even a sorcerer, you’re classified as a Window. Considering your technique, you’d at least be grade-1. Special grade, if you’re so lucky?

“Over the months, many proposals have been sent to you for reviewal. We have intercepted them, before, but now we deem it acceptable for you too–”

“–Hold on.” You cut one off. “Proposals? Are–are you talking about marriage?”

There’s silence for a bit, and you have never once felt so stupid.

“Before, we didn’t deem it appropriate for you to intermingle with true sorcerers. Now that we’ve seen how exemplary your technique is, we have decided for you to continue your sacred family line within Japanese sorcery. The Gojo clan especially has had repeated interest.”

You still can’t believe what you just heard, maybe that’s why it’s so hard for you to come up with the proper words. Did they seriously just say that they want you to ‘continue your sacred family line’? Are you a rare dog breed or something?

You try not to get too mad. Gojo has repeatedly told you these guys are drowning in traditions. You’ll just have to keep a cool head.

“Okay.” You sigh. “I don’t have any plans to remarry. Nor do I have any plans to have any more children. Chirasmi is enough for me.” To be honest, you don’t care if your ‘family line’ dies out with you or not. You just want Chirasmi to have a happy life.

“There has been interest for the child as well.”

You think your heart just stopped.

“She’s eight.” It’s not a fact. This was a warning.

“Yes,” one agrees, “we must begin preparations quickly for betrothal. Most children of jujutsu clans are betrothed at far younger ages to ensure of the lineages–”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The silence is chilling. You feel it over your skin, but it’s not enough to melt the rage in your blood vessels.

“I’ve fucking had it with your constant need for rituals and traditions.” You seethe. “You mumble the same shit about ‘preserving lineages’, but because of your bullshit, sorcerers are disappearing every single fucking day.” You were so done. You were so done with these people hiding behind fabric doors while children were forced to become sorcerers.

You’re not gonna let Chirasmi end up like that. That’s not why you brought her here.

“For the record, my daughter’s love life is none of your fucking concern. Sorry I’m not a big fan of child marriages, but I’d rather eat shit than let you guys sell my daughter to the highest bidder. Kindly fuck off with your concern.”

The commotion begins instantly, but you’re done trying to cater to them. You dismiss yourself with Satoru trailing behind you.

To his credit, he only starts laughing after you’re back outside. You march forward, still angered, as his laughter tapers off.

“Well, that went about just as I expected.”

“Were you expecting me to hold back?” You fume. “They kept talking about her like–like she is a tool!”

It is disgusting. You’ve never felt more hatred in your life as they sat around talking about your daughter like she was some type of bargaining chip. What kind of fucked up place is this?

You’ve worked really hard in this community. You may not be a fighter, but absorbing cursed energy takes time and strength. You’ve traveled all over Japan, trying to find Sukuna’s fingers as well as other evil cursed objects. You thought you’d finally get the recognition you deserve and yet…

They never really cared about your achievements, did they? All they truly care about is your bloodline, and whether or not you can make more of you.

“I dunno if you caught this or not.” Satoru starts after a pause. “But they talked about marrying us off too.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course they did.” Those assholes.

“Hey, I’m not so bad, am I?”

“You seem like the type of guy who’d take me to a restaurant and then ditch me the second you hear the ice cream truck.”

“That’s not true.” Satoru defends. “I’d take you with me.”

You try not to, but a smile twitches on your lips. You know what he’s doing and you hate it, but you can feel your fire melt away, left to simmer under your skin.

“I mean, are there any other bachelors left?” He continues his very serious argument. “I highly doubt you’d like any of the Zenin’s. Apart from me, there’s only Ijichi.”

“Ijichi’s nice.” You tell him. “He drives me places.”

“Ah,” Satoru hums. “So you prefer younger guys. Noted.”

“Younger? Isn’t he the same age as me?” You assumed he was thirty-six or so.

You can tell he’s staring at you through his blindfold before he’s laughing again. You frown.

“What?”

“He’s twenty-six.” Gojo smiles. “Two years my junior.”

“He’s twenty-six?” And then something even more unbelievable. “Wait, you’re twenty-eight?”

He’s laughing so loudly you’re half-afraid he’s about to choke.

“Yeah, I look great for my age, don’t I?” You say nothing to that, silently noting that he wasn’t as young as you initially thought.

“Well, since I’m the oldest guy around, am I finally proving to be marriage-material?”

“Absolutely not.”

“A shame.” Satoru hums.

You smile, you know he means nothing by it.

Besides, he’s done his job. You’re no longer that angry as you once were.

A part of you wants to thank him, but you know he already has a feeling.

~

For the first time in a while, you had a nightmare.

You were walking along a corridor. It stretched for miles and miles. You felt like you were walking forever. Days, Months, Years, and Centuries pass before you see…something.

It’s a room. Large and expansive. The walls are stretched so high, the ceiling is miles above you. In the center of the room, a figure is crouched on the floor. You haven’t seen her in years, but you know her.

It’s your mother, and she’s crying.

You want to go to her. You want to hold her, but something is keeping you locked in your place. A glass wall keeps you trapped.

“I’m sorry,” she’s saying over and over again. “I’m sorry.”

You open your mouth, but your voice fails you. You falter, and her lips are stretching into a wobbly, wet smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“We thought if we took you away, you’d be safer,” She’s telling you, “we thought we could protect you.”

You did protect me, you want to say, but something is choking you, stifling your words. It’s like you’re drowning even when you can breathe the air.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It’s a terrible nightmare, one you can’t go back to sleep after.

When you step outside, swathed in your blanket, the moon is high in the sky. A soft breeze tickles your skin. The students must already be in their dorms, exhausted from training. Jujutsu High is strangely quiet. It’s almost unnerving.

You walk along the rock-laid path, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness the night brings. Somewhere behind you, a cricket chirps. There’s the rustling of branches just overhead.

You shouldn’t be surprised when you see him. He always struck you as an insomniac.

He doesn’t acknowledge you when you take a seat next to him. His blindfold is off, as are his glasses. Nothing obscures you from those beautiful blue eyes.

Another breeze flutters past you. It rustles his hair. You bunch the blankets even tighter around you.

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask him.

He shakes his head. “No. Not really.”

You frown. Even with his technique, you highly doubt his shirt is doing anything to protect him. You shrug off half of your blanket, laying it across his back. His lips quirk the slightest upward, but he leaves it, letting it drape over his shoulder. It was way too big for just you anyway. Your shoulder touches his.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that.” He hums back. “Just…thinking.”

“Thinking about what, Satoru?”

He’s laughing. It’s a tiny huff, uncharacteristically quiet of him.

"Funny," Satoru says, "you're the only person who calls me that."

"...Satoru?" You repeat. "Isn’t that your name?"

"It is." He laughs. "Just...nevermind."

You gaze up at the Moon. It’s nearly full tonight. In a few weeks, you’ll be watching as it makes its way back to being a tiny sliver crescent again. The cycle will continue over and over, performing even when you can’t see it. Even when you’re dead.

You peek over at Satoru, and you see that same look he had all those months ago. You want to swallow your words, but they’re rushing out, eager to be heard.

“What was his name?” You ask.

He takes a moment, like it’s a secret he wants to keep to himself forever.

“Suguru.”

You let the name simmer into your brain.

“That’s a nice name.” You say back.

“He was my friend.” Satoru admits. “We did everything together.”

You can imagine it. Teenagers talking about video games and old movies. Late night calls. Spilled popcorn. Melted icecream leaving sticky traces on skin. Raw, real laughter. Quiet murmurs. Footprints on the beach.

They were friends. They might have even been in–

“And I killed him.”

You gaze up at the Moon. It’s nearly full tonight. In a few weeks, you’ll be watching as it makes its way back to being a tiny sliver crescent again. The cycle will continue over and over, performing even when you can’t see it. Even when you’re both dead.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all you can think. Satoru’s laughing, but like everything he’s doing tonight, it’s empty.

“Don’t be.” He tells you, just as quiet. “He was a bad person. He…killed hundreds. He hurt the students. He was…”

“I’m still sorry.”

Satoru’s an adult, yet it’s so easy to reach into his space, taking it as your own. Your arm wraps around his other shoulder, you lean into his infinity. Your head rests against his shoulder.

He doesn’t cry, but maybe it’s because he’s already shed far too many tears.

“What was his favorite food?” You ask.

“He was a really picky eater.” Satoru smiles. “The only plate he ever finished was zaru soba.”

Maybe that’s the humanity you crave for from him. The one he is giving you wholeheartedly.

“Ken used to make these giant milkshakes.” You bunch the blanket closer to your body. “I don’t even know how much sugar he’d pour into one, and the result tasted like smashed cake more than anything but…he loved them.”

You tilt your head, watching Satoru’s expression.

“I’ll make you one someday. And maybe one day, you can take me out to a place that makes zaru soba.”

Something like a smile twitches on Satoru’s face.

“I’d like that.” He tells you.

You settle back in your original spot. Your eyelids are getting heavy. All this talking is making you more and more tired. You should head in soon.

“Do you have dreams?” He’s suddenly asking. “Anything you’d like to accomplish in your life?”

“Me?” You question before thinking. “I have a couple, but I think my biggest is protecting Chirasmi–Keeping her safe.”

“You shouldn’t be so open with your dreams.” Satoru says, and you can’t place his tone. “That’s dangerous, in a place like here.”

You think of Maki’s words.

“Yeah.” You agree, “but it’s only you here.” And I trust you.

He doesn’t respond, not to that, instead he’s taking you up in his arms. You’re pressed against his chest, feeling his gentle thump of a heart as he continues to hold you.

“I won’t let you end up like he did.” He’s telling you, telling himself. “I won’t.”

I know. You continue to listen to his heartbeat.

Even if you had noticed the way his grip tightened around you, it is too late to do anything about it.

~

In the coming months, hunting for Sukuna’s fingers along with various other cursed objects is starting to become an even bigger part of your life.

You are sent everywhere: from tiny villages in the countryside, to fluctuating cities. Part of you is sure this is because of the higher ups. They clearly didn’t like your latest outburst. It’s a bit of a hassle, but at least they aren’t so pissed that you are sent after actual curses.

Besides, it’s not like you have much of anything else to do. Chirasmi is getting busier and busier. Homework, friends, learning a new language and culture. These days, you are spending less and less time with her.

She’s a lot more grown up these days, too. You were unsure if moving to Japan was the right idea for your family, but Chirasmi has been adapting quite well. She’s acting a lot more mature, very rarely breaking into tantrums. She’s stopped crawling into your bed at night. She’s come a long way from the eight-year-old you used to know.

“It’ll be just like last time.” You tell her, continuing to pack your suitcase. “Kato will be here tomorrow, okay? If you need to call me for anything, just let her know.”

Yet again, you are being sent to another remote location to find another one of Sukuna’s fingers. Usually, it takes you two weeks to locate them—a week if the sorcerer you’re paired with is grade two or higher.

Two weeks without access to the internet. It is getting less and less terrifying the more you get used to traveling.

Chirasmi lingers behind you as you continue to grab shirts, folding them up and tucking them tightly in your suitcase.

“Do you really have to go this week, though?” She asks.

You think that’s strange. She’s usually pretty disappointed when you leave, but you’ve never once heard her actively protest.

”You know how it is, Chira. You understand, though, right?”

There’s silence. You wonder if you should pack your blue shirt or your red shirt. Ultimately, you decide to pack both.

“Mom?” You barely glance behind you.

“Hm?”

She’s staring, her face is tight, there’s something she wants to say. You can feel it.

She shakes her head with a smile.

“Nothing.” She’s telling you. “Good luck.”

There’s an odd look on her face. It stays the very next day when you kiss her goodbye. You linger on it even after you pack your suitcase into the car trunk.

“Not gonna say hello?” Satoru asks from his seat.

You roll your eyes, gazing out of the window.

“I thought you were overseas.”

He gives a dramatic pout. “We haven’t seen each other in weeks and that’s how you’re gonna act? So harsh.”

You smile as he continues.

“I finished up early! Now, I get to accompany my best friend to a creepy village, how fun!”

Well, that confirms who your partner was going to be. You assumed it’d be Megumi again, considering he has been talking a lot about promotion lately. Now that you think about it, Satoru might have something to do with the current switch up.

“Should you really be working? You just came back from your own mission.” You question.

“Worried about me?” He grins.

“I always am.” You say in exasperation. Satoru laughs.

“Don’t worry about it. Every trip with you is a vacation for me.”

You’re not sure if you believe him, but he might have a point. Collecting inanimate cursed objects is a lot less strenuous than battling special grades.

Still, maybe you should’ve thought twice before letting Satoru book the hotel.

“Is there a problem, ma’am?” The receptionist asks in her sweet voice.

You don’t have a problem with her. She’s just doing her job, and she’s doing the best job. You swear it. Still, the smile on your face is tight and forced. You pick up the key.

“There’s just one.” You point out the obvious. “But there’s two of us.”

“Oh, did you want another key, Mrs. Gojo?”

Mrs. Gojo? Behind you, Satoru is not even bothering to hold in his laughter.

You take in a breath, closing your eyes. At this point, you don’t want to inconvenience her any further by demanding another room. At least there’s two beds. And if there wasn’t, you could always kick Satoru onto the floor.

So, you take your one key with a smile. Gojo is trailing behind you.

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.” You mutter.

“There was a discount on the single room.” He argues.

“Aren’t you a millionaire?”

“Even millionaires can enjoy the beauty of a good bargain.”

Why do you even bother talking to this man?

Still, the room is really nice. It was large and spacious, overlooking the village you’d be heading into starting tomorrow. There are two beds–thank God–that are evenly spaced away from each other. The flatscreen TV is large and spacious, and the bathroom even has a gorgeous bathtub.

Sometime during this stay, you’d have to convince Satoru to leave for an hour or two so you can enjoy that, along with a large glass of wine. Oh! And a good book.

You set your suitcase on the bed when you notice him staring at you.

“What?” You ask, barely paying attention.

“It’s grown again.” He’s telling you. “Your cursed energy.”

“My, what a surprise.” You respond back. He laughs.

“I’m being serious. You’re such an anomaly.”

You don’t take it to heart, because you know what it means. You’re an anomaly. You’re a weirdo. Just like he is. He finds solace in that. You let him.

“Even so, you should be careful.”

“Hm?” When you look up, Satoru isn’t smiling.

“When cursed energy is all balled up like that, you need to keep an eye on it.” He’s telling you. “Even the smallest change in your emotional state might cause it to go haywire.”

You look at your arms, your legs, the rest of your body. As usual, you see nothing. You are just a regular human, even when you are apparently something akin to a God in the jujutsu world.

“I deal with you all the time, don’t I?” You respond, packing away your clothes. “Pretty sure I know how to control my emotions.”

The hunt for the finger begins the very next day. As expected, the villagers give no information regarding a powerful cursed object trapped in wax. With Satoru trailing behind you, you ask every woman, man, and even the village elders. Nobody gives even a clue.

Satoru, on the other hand, makes no attempt to search. He’s clearly having the best time of his life, purchasing street foods and cute trinkets. You deny the multiple offers of buying you a souvenir, but you do accept the cute cat keycharm he gives you.

“Unbelievable, are you sure it’s even in this village?” You have to ask after the third day of searching.

Satoru sits across from you, munching on a sweet he purchased from a nearby vendor. When he offers you one, you decline.

“So picky.” He comments. You shake your head.

“Once you get older, your need for sweets declines.” You explain. “You’ll get it in ten or so years.”

“You act like you’re ancient.” He comments. “You’re, what–8 or so years older than me? At our ages, age is just a number, y’know?”

“You’re deflecting.”

He laughs, finishing off his meal. “And yeah, we’re sure it’s here. One of our windows caught its power not too long ago. Unless someone moved it, we should be in the right spot.”

“It is a little weird no one knows what we’re talking about, even when the village looks really traditional.” You spot a girl walking past dressed in a Kimono. Pants and shirts are very rare here. It’s like you stepped into a different time period all-together.

“How long have we even been here, anyway?” You half-ask, half-complain. “It feels like years.”

“Hm, well it’s June 10th, right now.” He doesn’t notice the way you freeze. “And we got here on June 5th, so it’s less than a week, honestly–”

“What?” You look up at him. “What was the date?”

His smile disappears, ever so slightly.

“June 10th.” He repeats. “Why?”

“Nothing.” You say, feeling the ground disappear beneath you. “Nothing.”

It is currently June 10th.

Chirasmi’s birthday was on June 7th.

You’d missed the most important day of your life by 3 days.

Satoru takes your word, rambling about some other spots you could try looking in, but you’re no longer listening. For the first time in months, your eyes are finally open. Your ears are actually listening. Your heart is actually feeling.

It isn’t just this, you’d missed so many other things.

How many times had you missed Chirasmi’s plays because you were ‘too busy with a mission’? How many times had you forgotten to ask about her day all because ‘Sorry, Chira, currently filling out a mission report’? How many times had you missed the heartbreak in her eyes?

Chirasmi wasn’t getting more independent because she wanted to be. She was doing that because you were pulling away from her.

This…the entire reason you were here in Japan was because you wanted to protect her from those curses. She was the only reason you were even here.

But is that really true? Is Chira the only reason you wanted to come here? Or was it the thought of escaping your boring life, escaping the life of a regular mom in her thirties.

You are a bad mother.

Yes, you wanted adventure. You wanted this thrill of feeling important but…but…you would never want that at the expense of your daughter’s relationship.

You need her more than anything on the planet. You need her more than air or water or food. She’s your everything.

What would you be without her?

You and Satoru manage to find the finger on the third day. By that time, you’d already made up your mind.

Satoru’s smile is planted on his face as he watches the finger melt in your palm. You two are back at the hotel, with the moon shining high above. For whatever reason, it feels more ominous to do it now.

But you have to. Rip off the band-aide.

“I’ll never get tired of you doing that.” Satoru tells you. He’s leaned up against the doorway, while you sit down on your bed.

You wait until the last of the finger has melted away in your palm. It feels like a timer, counting down until you can’t play-pretend in this wonderful world anymore.

“I’m planning on quitting soon.”

Silence. As expected. You don’t look up. You can’t bring yourself too.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him honestly. “I really am. But…but this work…it’s killing me and Chira. And I don’t want to lose my daughter. Not like this.”

You are a bad mom, but you want to be a good mother. You want to go home and you want her to call you ‘Mommy’ instead of ‘Mom’. You want her to start crawling into bed with you when she’s scared of thunderstorms. You want her to feel safe with you again.

You just want her back.

“When we go back, I’ll let the principal know.” You continue. “I’m–I’m not really sure if I need to put in my two weeks or anything like that–” You break off into a laugh, hoping he’ll follow but he doesn’t– “but, yeah…”

“Is there any way I can convince you to stay?” He asks, voice soft.

There’s a firm line on his lips. You can’t make out his expression because of that blindfold of his. His face is so blank.

He’s masking it, you realize. He’s masking it, as he does with most things.

“No.” You tell him, blunt and honest, and heartbreakingly truthful. “There’s nothing. Thank you.” Your words are quiet in the silence. “For what you’ve done for me and Chira. I’ll always be grateful but…She needs me, right now. I can’t just…” I can’t continue to abandon her.

You can hear your breath. Up and down and up again.

“I’ll miss you.” You offer. Another truth.

He says nothing.

When you wake up the next morning, he’s gone. You eye the pristine sheets on the other bed. It looked like he didn’t even spend the night. You feel for him. You really do. As much as Satoru tries to hide it, he’s a lonely man. You might have been the closest thing he had to…

You don’t want your friendship with him to end like this.

The morning is filled with the quiet sounds of packing. You bundle your stuff in the suitcase before hauling everything you’ve brought down the elevator. You wave at the clerk, thanking him for his hospitality.

When you get outside, Ijichi is waiting.

Satoru is there, too.

“You’re late.” He tells you, his usual teasing smile on his lips.

You can’t help but smile back, sliding into the seat next to him.

“I’m not late.” You tell him. “If anything, you’re early. I thought you already left?”

He shakes his head. “And miss the end of one of our last missions together? I wouldn’t, not for the world.”

You find yourself smiling even harder than before. You might even be crying.

“I’ll call you.” You promise him. “As much as I can.”

“You better.” He responds. “Y’know, I’ve always wanted a penpal.”

You laugh at that. Yeah, you’d do that, too.

“I hope you know we’ll be making a lot of detours.” Satoru tells you seriously. “This might be one of the last times you see Japan! You need to have all the memories you possibly could. Oh, you haven’t seen Tokyo Disneyland, right? We should go there! Ijichi, head straight for Disneyland.”

“Uh, Gojo, that’s all the way in the other direction–”

“We’ll make time.”

You laugh even louder.

“If it’s all the same to you.” You tell him. “I’d rather if we just head home for now. Maybe tomorrow we can go with Chira? It’s not like we have to see everything today, right? We have time.”

He turns back to the window. You can’t see his expression.

“Sure.” He tells you. “Definitely.”

~

You are finally getting service, now that you are out of the village. Still, no matter how many times you try, you can’t contact Chirasmi.

“Kato still isn’t responding.” You complain after you try for the 12th time. “What’s so important that she’d ignore me?” She’s usually so responsive, was she just away from her phone?

Satoru doesn’t look the least bit bothered.

“Maybe she and Chirasmi are off playing a game.” He shrugs. “Don’t trust the babysitter?”

You click your tongue, unsatisfied with his answer, but there’s no other answers you have. You resign yourself to your fate, sitting and moping.

You’ll never be able to make it up to her, you slowly realize. You missed her birthday, the biggest day of her life–the biggest day of your life. You could never make that up to her.

You know Chira. She is the sweetest little girl. If you apologized, she’d forgive you instantly. That’s just the kind of soul she had. A part of you doesn’t want her to forgive you. You don’t deserve that.

Today, you’ll apologize and tell her about your plans.

Tomorrow, you’ll go out with her and buy her the biggest, grandest cake she could ever want.

And maybe after that, everything will be okay.

It’s nearly evening when the car pulls up to Jujutsu High. By now, you’ve spent hours in the car, and yet you still feel exhausted. You’re halfway asleep when you hear Ijichi’s gasp from the front seat.

You blink your eyes open.

“What is it?”

He’s silent, but his two hands are tight on the steering wheel. His knuckles are ghost-white.

“Ijichi?” You prod, your sleep slowly drifting away.

“....Tengen’s barrier.” He finally breathes. “It’s…it’s gone.”

Satoru stays silent.

“What?” You’re launching from your seat, looking at the window, but you can’t see anything because you can’t see cursed energy. “What are you talking about? It–it’s gone? What do you mean?”

He says nothing. He just continues to stare out into nothingness. You get out of the car, and Satoru follows.

You can barely see in the dark. The sun’s rays have disappeared hours ago, and it casts a haunting filter over campus. You feel like you’re walking through a ghost town. The hints of humanity are all around, yet you can see nothing.

Your heart is lodged in your throat. You can feel every beat. You walk. Then you run. Then you sprint. The feeling of something being wrong wrong wrong overtakes you.

Satoru stays silent.

You don’t see him until you nearly run him over. You stumble forward, catching yourself. The man catches you with his hands. You recognize him. He is another window. One who you often see smiling at you.

You can’t see his smile now. Not when his face was smeared with blood.

Satoru stays silent.

“What happened?” You ask. “What happened to you? Where is everyone?”

He coughs and it sounds like someone grabbed him by the throat.

“Curses.” He spits. “We…we don’t know how Tengen’s barrier broke but…there were so many of them…I–I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“And the students?” Satoru asks.

“Only one was injured.” He rasps. “Inumaki. The more fatally wounded are with Ieiri right now–”

“--Chirasmi.” You interrupt, desperate. “Where is Chirasmi?”

He blinks, slow and confused. “I–I don’t–”

Satoru stays silent.

You’re pushing off of him. It’s so strange. You know this place like the back of your hand. It’s been your home for nearly a year. And yet, everything looks so foreign. The darkness makes the shadows lunge and leap at you. The dirt path looks cold and abandoned. The only sound you can hear is the scuffling noise your shoes make.

The apartment no longer looks bright and inviting. It’s cold, devoid of all warmth.

There’s a body slumped over the porch. She’s still breathing. Kato is sputtering and rasping for air when you step closer into the house.

The door is slightly pushed open. You press on it. Kato grabs your ankle.

“Don’t–don’t go in there.” She’s telling you, but you can barely hear her voice. “Please…don’t..don’t go in there.”

Her hold on your leg is too weak to stop you. When you step inside, there’s a ringing in your ears. The living room is painfully empty. So is the kitchen. When you check her room, it’s empty too.

Fear. You can taste it in the air. Her fear lingers all throughout the house. Where does she go when she’s scared?

The ringing gets louder and louder the closer you step to your bedroom.

Satoru stays silent.

You push open the door.

There wasn’t even a piece of her left to be buried.

You feel an implosion within you. There’s a gust of air. The windows shatter as your body crumbles to the red red red floor.

You scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream Satoru smiles you scream you scream you scream you scream you scream–

~

Being the Strongest meant that Gojo often had to do things he wasn’t a big fan of. One of those things was, of course, catering to the old geezers that held all of jujutsu society in the palm of their hands.

If they say jump, he’s supposed to ask ‘how high’. Unbelievably annoying.

He stands in the rounded room, illuminated by nothing but a single candle. These guys really love their dramatics, huh? Behind his blindfold, his eyes roll.

“So it’s done, then?” One of them speaks behind a fabric door. “The Sufferer’s Descendent has been dealt with?”

“Yes.” Gojo responds. “The execution was held earlier this morning and the body was properly disposed of.”

“Good.” Another responds. “Such power should not be exposed to the world. Who knows what that creature was capable of?”

It truly was something. The scream had sent a cursed energy shockwave that rippled out over a mile in each direction. It had instantly exorcised every curse in the area. He’d never seen anything like it. Not even he could do something like that.

But these idiots don’t care about feats like that. They care about tradition. Hierarchy.

You threatened that. That’s why you had to be put away.

“And the child?” Another prods.

“Nothing was recovered.” Nothing but bloodstains.

“Hm,” The voice annoys Gojo’s ears. “In any case, figure out why Tengen’s barrier failed. Though, we managed to reseal the barrier…such a malfunction should not be allowed again.”

“Of course,” Gojo replies. “We're working hard on it.”

There’s silence. He can see eyes watching him.

“I heard you were the one who oversaw the execution.” One starts.

Gojo only tilts his head. “I was.”

There's a huff.

“Good. I am pleased you’re finally following orders, unlike last time.”

Gojo smiles with teeth.

After a few more tedious minutes of placating them, he’s finally set free. He steps out into the sunlight, breathing inthe fresh air. They are always so stifling, but he has to admit, this was the one time that listening to them actually worked out in his favor.

When he steps back into the car, Ijichi is there as always. Gojo doesn’t bother pointing out his reddened eyes and puffy cheeks. Ijichi wipes at his eyes. He’d been crying for hours, ever since the execution was held and the windows dragged your limp body to the last room you’d ever see.

You hadn’t seen the connections you’d made, but he can see the work paying off right now. The students mourn your passing. The windows are clamoring together. Even principal Yaga is quieter.

He can’t blame them. Shoko made the body look so real.

“I’m canceling classes for the rest of the day.” He tells Ijichi. “Mind taking a detour?”

The Gojo estate is as cold as ever.

There is a reason he never liked coming here. It towers over the land like a palace, but that is the only thing it actually has. Size. There is no soul, no color. Even as a child he hated it, it’s why he rarely visits.

Unfortunately for him, this is the only place he could find where people don’t ask questions.

A servant passes by with a tray full of food. He sighs.

“Still not eating?” He asks.

The servant only shakes her head.

That’s not good. If this continues he might have to figure out more forceful ways. Nutrition is important after all.

The door is guarded by two guards. They stand motionless and unmoving, barely even flinching when he walks into the room. They know only he’s allowed to enter, after all.

You’re sat in the same position he left you that morning. Sitting up straight, eyes hazy and unfocused, staring blankly in the window.

Seeing you, he finally feels like he can breathe again. He sinks on the bed, wrapping his arms around your body.

“Missed you.” He mutters. He doesn’t expect an answer. You haven’t spoken in days. “Had to deal with those annoying fuckers again. Horrible, but I don’t think they suspect anything, so that’s nice.”

He leans into your space, feeling his infinity press into your own. It reminds him of that night underneath the Moon. He could hear his heartbeat beat so loudly, he was half-afraid you’d hear it too.

His heartbeat is still loud, but he’s no longer so embarrassed. This is the sound of love, after all.

“That reminds me.” He’s pulling himself off you, reaching into his pocket. “I got something for you.”

He’d bought a gift you’d actually like, at least he hopes you do. It’s a necklace, and the jewel he picked out would really bring out the color of your eyes.

He unravels the chain, before moving it around your neck. The jewel falls beautifully across your neck. You don’t react to it. You barely even breathe.

“It suits you.” He muses to himself. “Just like I knew it would.”

He tries to think of it as a ‘welcome home’ present. But it’s really more of an apologetic one.

After all, it’s his fault Chirasmi died.

When he stuck the talisman on her, he knew it would be bad, but he wasn’t expecting it to be so visceral. They had torn her to shreds. Tearing open Tengen’s barrier so they could get in was also an unexpected hassle. It took quite a lot of cursed energy for him to keep it open. He doesn’t want to do that for another thousand years.

He feels a bit sorry about the injuries the other people faced, but it was all collateral damage. In his eyes, it was all worth it.

He told you once before. Never reveal your dreams in a place like this. It could only lead to bad things. You didn’t listen.

He can still feel the panic he felt when you told him you were quitting and leaving him. Looking back, his actions were pretty rash and over the top. If his mind wasn’t so muddy with rage, he might have chosen a more sensible outcome.

But when has he ever been a rational person?

Crushing your dream was the only way Gojo knew how to keep you here, and he did it in a heartbeat.

Yes, you may be lifeless now, but Gojo isn’t too worried about that. He knows how strong you are. When you’re feeling better, he promised himself that he’ll take you where he had the kid buried (at least the remnants they could find).

In a few years, when you decide to have children again, he’d be more than happy to help you with that. He’s not a big fan of kids, but by that time you’d be married to him, and what kind of husband wouldn’t listen to his wife’s requests?

You just need time to process it, and he’ll give you all the time you need. He’ll stay by your side, just like he should’ve done with Suguru.

He’s laughing at the joke only he knows the punchline to.

“I told you, didn’t I?” He whispers in your ear. “I’d never let you end up like him.”

He plants a gentle kiss on your numb cheek.

“I’d never let you leave me.”

(Would yall mind doing me a favor? Pls look up the meaning of Chirasmi in Nepali:D)

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