Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Mai was a problem.

Maybe she’d heard it enough times to become immune to that kind of comment. At first, it had felt empty to Momo, even unfair. Words that shouldn’t fall on anyone’s shoulders just for being born in a certain place, with a certain last name.

Then it started to feel pathetic.

Why would Mai be the problem?

Yes, Mai had far too many problems in her life, but she wasn’t the problem. Her family of idiots was. Her bad luck was—the kind that made everything turn out terribly wrong. At most, Mai was someone drowning in all of that.

But not a problem.

To Momo, Mai had been… something entirely different.

The sweetest girl in the world.

With those golden eyes that looked away when she felt embarrassed. With flushed cheeks. With that small pout she made when something bothered her, and the way she frowned as if that alone could protect her.

Even her mocking laugh, even that insufferable attitude… it was all charming when Mai allowed herself to be a little more like who she really was.

Momo had come to think that, if Mai showed more of her true self, she might end up loving her even more.

But she had been wrong.

Because the moment she finally saw everything that lay at the bottom of Mai’s heart…

She did what any bird would do when it no longer felt safe in its own nest.

She left.

She flew away.

Far, very far away. Somewhere the horrible wolf wouldn’t be able to find her.

So now, those words finally seemed fitting—the kind someone could use to describe Mai. Mai was a problem.

Was it wrong? Not at all. Momo didn’t believe she had done anything wrong. If anything, it had been the best solution she could find to avoid wanting to hit Mai the moment she saw her.

Did she feel good about it?

No.

Right now, she regretted not listening more carefully to Yuki’s advice—back when she used to visit Todo at the school and would tell her not to date someone younger. It was only a two-year difference, but Momo felt like she had been dating a mute girl (since apparently speaking wasn’t Mai’s strong suit—or any Zenin’s, really), and also deaf (she never listened. Never).

Oh, and omnipresent too? Because it seemed like Mai wanted to be Jesus, to be with her at all times and in every place—even when Momo couldn’t see her because she was supposed to be dead.

So, despite everything she might have been feeling, she had felt a certain peace knowing she could think things through, clear her head, sort out her emotions, decide what to do with them, and how far she could go in protecting them.

Until Mai acted like Mai. Impulsive and stupidly sweet.

When she saw Miwa one Sunday afternoon, holding an envelope with an apologetic look, she first thought it might be a message from Utahime. Then she heard the name “Mai,” and she knew that not even a letter from Utahime could have made her feel that exhausted.

It was almost impressive—how that name had gone from being one of her favorites to say throughout the day, to something that gave her a headache the moment she heard it. It had become unbearable during the days when Mai was supposedly dead; she had been so shaken, so sad, that she couldn’t stand hearing it.

And then Mai came back from the dead.

Momo could honestly say a few things to her—correction, a lot of things.

That she was an idiot. That she was selfish. That she didn’t know how to share her emotions. That she was a mess. That she was the worst person Momo could have ever met. That she missed her so much. That she had worried her so much.

That she liked her so much.

But Momo had dignity, you know? She wasn’t about to run into the arms of that beautiful woman and forget that, at some point, she had hidden something far too important from her in their… relationship?

Well, they hadn’t kissed or anything like that, and they hadn’t made anything official either. But Momo figured that when Mai started sleeping in the same bed as her more often, and sought her out when they were alone—as if a friendly hug wasn’t enough—maybe they had been getting close to something like that.

And Mai had forgotten to mention the tiny little detail that Momo would never see her again in her life. Momo thought Mai could have been kinder. She could have pulled away, acted like an idiot so that at least Momo would feel some resentment toward her and handle things better.

But no. Mai had to keep that stupid smile of hers, and for some reason, look so charming whenever she was close. Tucking a strand of hair behind Momo’s ear. Resting her head on her shoulder. Taking her hand when no one was looking.

She had to be so convincing.

Well, that left her with a valuable lesson: don’t try to fix girls with family trauma who literally hate their own clone.

“You know, there’s no need to torture yourself,” said the brown-haired boy as he walked into the room, rummaging through some boxes stacked on Momo’s desk.

He frowned when a small box filled with old papers fell to the floor, muttering under his breath as he realized he’d have to organize it.

Kyoto school felt… abandoned. Everyone was in Tokyo now, and it seemed like there wasn’t a single soul left in Kyoto. Momo thought it might be better that way—she wouldn’t know what to do with all the stares, especially with Maki walking around like nothing had happened.

And even less with having to run into Mai.

“Can’t I sleep for five minutes?” she asked irritably, burying her face into the pillow.

If there was one thing she could say about her companion, it was that he didn’t know how to shut up. He always wanted company, or for her to watch movies with him. Way too clingy for Momo’s taste.

Or maybe she just didn’t have the energy to let anyone get that close.

“It’s the afternoon! We should at least be productive and clean this place a bit… Have you seen that portable vacuum ad? I can’t stand going into another abandoned cabin that smells like a corpse,” her companion complained, gesturing with his hands as if trying to show the vacuum’s size.

Momo sighed and decided to pay attention, realizing the other boy wouldn’t stop talking otherwise. She rolled onto her back, still lying on the bed.

“No, I’m not carrying around a vacuum.”

“It’s portable…”

Momo rolled her eyes. Her companion was kind of an idiot. Not that she hated him—he was nice in his own way—but she really didn’t feel like socializing.

“So? I don’t want it,” Momo said, making a face of disapproval.

Ino frowned, crossing his arms and pouting after seeing his idea dismissed as quickly as he’d suggested it. Would he do anything about it? Momo knew he wouldn’t. He was a walking headache—but a pretty understanding one when he saw her in a bad mood, and apparently quite good at comforting too.

“Is that bed actually absorbing you?”

“Yes,” Momo replied quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“I already said yes.”

“You know… that letter’s been staring at you ever since you brought it here.”

Momo threw her pillow at him. He dodged it with a triumphant grin.

He didn’t manage to dodge the shoe that suddenly flew straight into his cheek.

“Ow! What was that for? It’s not my fault you’re dying to read it,” the older boy complained, rubbing his face.

Momo pressed her hands against her face, feeling the knot in her throat return, wanting to bury herself into the remaining pillow.

Ino was right. She was torturing herself, leaving that letter there, wanting to read it, wanting to know what it said and why Mai had sent it. But she didn’t want to. That wasn’t the right way to get over someone. Reading their letters? For God’s sake, it was probably the sweetest thing Mai had ever done, but Momo refused to be swayed by some clumsy words of love.

“Get out!” the blonde snapped.

Ino stayed quiet for a moment. Best case scenario, he realized his comment had crossed a line and that Momo wasn’t in the mood. Worst case, he was just laughing silently. Either way, those thoughts disappeared when she suddenly felt weight on the empty side of her bed.

“Can I lie down?” he asked carefully, his expression patient.

Momo didn’t answer right away, then gave a small nod, sighing as she finally looked at him. He simply smiled back, showing his teeth.

Ino lay down beside her, crossing his arms and making sure his boots didn’t touch her sheets.

She could remember all the times Mai came back exhausted from a mission and just collapsed on top of her, burying her face in Momo’s shoulder, falling asleep without much concern for permission or conversation.

Momo couldn’t cry in front of Ino. No way she’d let that smug-smiling guy see her like that.

“What’s so bad about it? Come on, she’s probably waiting for a reply. It’s kind of sad to leave a lady with her heart in her hands,” he said with a light laugh.

He didn’t even realize how deep this whole situation really was.

“I think the ‘lady’ can wait a third of the time I had to wait for her to respond.”

Why would someone who lies to you and constantly puts everything else before you deserve an answer?

“Hmm… maybe,” Ino admitted, raising a thoughtful brow, though he didn’t add anything else. “Still, don’t you want to? No one’s here. No one will know you read it,” he added, pulling his mask up and off his forehead, revealing the marked line on his skin.

“You would. And that’s already too public.”

Ino chuckled softly, offering a shy smile—though Momo wasn’t buying the idea that he was shy.

He’d have to be born again for that. He was like a fox without malice—still playful, still the kind that toyed with whatever it caught in its paws before slipping away.

“Honestly, I want to know what it says too. All this romantic drama has me hooked,” he said, shrugging without a hint of shame.

“Get out,” Momo snapped again.

“Oh, come on! Seriously? You told me everything!” he complained, pointing at her.

“I was drunk. It doesn’t count.”

Part of it was embarrassing. Momo wasn’t proud of the fact that the only person who knew the whole story—besides her and Mai—was some idiot she had met a month ago. It had been simple. Momo was bad at drinking, and that day the brunette had brought a case of beer. She didn’t usually drink, but she was tired and her body ached a little, so she accepted.

Some people accidentally sleep with the person they’re drinking with. She had accidentally told him the reason behind her terrible mood, eventually getting to the most important part: Mai Zenin. She ended up giving him the juiciest gossip he had probably ever heard, because the next morning he wouldn’t stop teasing her, asking about Mai over and over again until Momo threw a frying pan at him.

“Same thing,” Ino concluded.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you wouldn’t leave me alone afterward,” Momo sighed, exhausted by his constant jokes.

“We’re partners. It’s too late to not trust each other,” Ino said, tilting his head back and placing his hands behind it, finally taking off his shoes so he could rest his feet on the bed.

“I think you’re getting way too comfortable with me.”

And it was true. He walked into her room whenever he wanted, flopped down next to her when she was lying down, and even stole food straight from her plate while she was literally eating.

Bastard.

“That’s because we’re friends,” the brunette said happily, tilting his head and squinting with a grin.

“We’re not friends,” Momo denied quickly.

“Momo!” he whined with fake hurt, leaning in way too close and draping an arm over her back.

“Idiot!” Momo shoved him away, covering her ear. “Don’t yell right next to me, seriously, you’re—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m nosy. Get over it. If you’re not going to do anything about that…” He nodded toward the letter. “Then let me take you out, okay?”

Momo looked at him, slightly incredulous, though she didn’t make a big deal out of it. Ino had a habit of using the wrong words at the wrong time.

“I don’t want you as a friend. Much less as a date,” she replied flatly, resting her head on her arms and looking at him with disinterest.

“I didn’t say it was a date, though you could use one…” he hummed teasingly.

Momo punched his shoulder. If her partner wanted to live longer than his already questionable lifespan allowed, he’d better shut up.

“Hey! Stop hitting me!” Ino leaned back as Momo swung at him again.

He complained once more, rubbing his shoulder where she had hit him.

“Can you shut up for a second?” Momo snapped.

“Wow, what a mood,” Ino rolled his eyes, though he quickly leaned closer again. “So? What do you say? Let’s go eat, and you can tell me about your girl… or you can stay here like a loser in bed.”

“…I hate you.”

Momo finally pulled herself together. She straightened up on the bed, sitting up and stretching her arms above her head.

Maybe going out would help. Getting some air, walking for a bit.

“You love me. You’ll see,” Ino said as he sat up too, casually draping an arm over the blonde’s shoulders.

She missed the others. It wasn’t like Ino was the worst company she could have, but she wanted to see Miwa more often… and those two idiots she called friends, even if Ino was pretty similar to them. Still, the idea of staying in Tokyo was unbearable. She couldn’t live like this while Mai hovered around her like some abandoned puppy.

“You’re paying. I’m not going to embarrass myself being seen with you and still have to pay.”

Ino looked like a… vagrant. He always wore that same dark long-sleeved shirt and matching pants, and the mask didn’t help at all.

“Huh? It’s a privilege to go out with me! I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah, sure. If it’s that great, then you’ll pay like a proper gentleman,” Momo mocked.

“I thought it wasn’t a date,” Ino shot back with a smug grin.

She only frowned.

Maybe going out with some guy would make her feel better, but… did she even want that?

Nah.

She could move on without filling the void like some stupid teenager.

“And who said it was?” she replied, pushing his face away again.

“Shit,” Mai muttered under her breath as she felt something warm start to run from her nose. She stopped struggling and simply dropped to her knees, pressing her hands against her face, trying to slow the thin stream of blood.

“Mai-san!” Yuta rushed toward her, alarmed, letting the wooden sword fall from his hands as he crouched beside her and carefully placed his hands on her shoulders.

Mai pulled away almost immediately, shooting him a wary look that only earned a hurt expression from Okkotsu.

“Hey, hey, let me see.”

Shoko stood up from her chair, removing her glasses as she knelt beside Mai and placed a hand on her face. Lately, Mai felt like everyone was touching her too much… or maybe physical contact was just normal at this school. It didn’t really matter. As long as she could avoid Yuta breaking down and crying apologies into her shoulder, she could tolerate a light touch to her face.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t Yuta,” she clarified quickly, grabbing the edge of her shirt and pressing it against her nose to keep the blood from dripping everywhere.

A look of horror crossed Yuta’s face, while Shoko simply shrugged, not quite following.

“Does this happen often?” the doctor asked.

“When I use more cursed energy than I can handle. Once, I tried to create a second bullet in a single day…”

“Did it work?”

Mai gave a small nod, though she frowned at the memory of the sharp pain that had spread through her muscles, a clear warning not to push past her limits if she actually cared about her body.

“Let’s just say it had consequences,” she muttered, lowering her gaze.

Shoko nodded, understanding enough not to press further. Yuta, meanwhile, was the only one standing there with his hands half-raised, tense and uncertain, as if he couldn’t understand why they were acting so calm about something that clearly wasn’t normal. Mai found it strange that this was the same guy who could tear through curses and fight towering opponents like a seasoned veteran… and yet still had such a soft heart.

“Do you want some water? We can stop if you need to. We still have plenty of time to work on this,” Yuta offered, reaching out again—only to have his hand slapped away by Mai, who made him pout at the rejection.

If Maki was hard to deal with, Mai was impossible.

Shoko shook her head slightly and took Mai’s face in her hands, placing her fingers against her cheeks as she pulled the blood-stained fabric away and channeled cursed energy around her nose. Mai didn’t feel the blood vanish, but the sharp pain quickly died down, like a flame being put out.

Shoko narrowed her eyes, as if studying her more closely, which might have been unsettling if Mai didn’t know Utahime would never allow her to end up on an autopsy table.

“I’m fine. We can keep going,” Mai said, pulling her face away from Shoko’s hands as she stood up, wiping the remaining blood from her chin and neck, even if the faint stain lingered.

She wouldn’t deny it. It was too much blood to call normal. She hadn’t lied—this kind of thing did happen when she overused her cursed energy—but it had never been this bad before.

Still, if she wanted to move forward without causing problems for the school, she had to prove she could handle her body.

That she wasn’t a danger to non-sorcerers.

“I don’t think you’re fine. I’ve never seen someone get a nosebleed just from using cursed energy. This is pretty extreme, even to me. Are you both sure this is okay…? I mean…” He paused for a moment, standing up and placing a finger on his chin, clearly thinking through his words, unsure how to handle the situation. “Maybe Principal Gakuganji is pushing this too far. Mai should be resting more and learning at a safer pace.”

If all the elders thought like Yuta, Gojo probably wouldn’t have had to kill them all. He was too kind for his own good, putting Mai’s needs above his own comfort without even realizing it.

“I think you’re overreacting,” Mai said, waving it off.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, giving her that judgmental look she always did when Mai said something stupid—which was most of the time.

“Sure, your nose overreacted a bit with all that blood too,” Shoko pointed out, earning a sharp glare.

The doctor barely reacted.

“Isn’t Utahime-sensei a bit lonely in her office right now? You should go check on her,” Mai muttered under her breath.

“I’d love to be there right now, but she’s the one who kicked me out to take care of your suicidal ass,” Shoko replied, lightly smacking Mai on the head before patting it.

Mai pulled away in annoyance, and Shoko just laughed.

“I think we’re getting off track…” Yuta murmured, a small amused smile forming after watching their exchange.

“I don’t have time to slow down this useless training any more than it already is,” Mai stated firmly.

Yuta sighed, shaking his head at her stubbornness. Dealing with someone like Mai was impossible—like watching someone slam their head against a wall over and over, refusing to accept that their skull would crack before the concrete ever would. Okkotsu picked up the wooden sword again, channeling cursed energy into it.

Mai followed his lead. She gripped the handle and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tried to focus her cursed energy into the object in her hands. In theory, this should’ve been easier than creating something from scratch. The sharp, cold sensation returned to her palms, much more familiar now than it had been the first time.

It only took seconds.

The wood, wrapped in worn fabric, cracked apart.

The upper half fell to the ground without ceremony, and Shoko simply said, “Oh.”

Yuta opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, before a small, awkward smile appeared. He lowered the remaining piece slightly and shrugged.

“Time for a break?” he asked lightly.

“Time for a break,” Mai agreed.

Shoko burst out laughing, unable to hold it in at the sudden shift in Mai’s mood.

Mai tossed the handle behind her, as if she could pretend none of this had happened and ensure neither Shoko nor Yuta would ever bring it up again. This had to be a joke. She’d broken it in less than half an hour of training. This wasn’t progress at all…

And they definitely wouldn’t let her leave if she couldn’t even do something as basic as channeling cursed energy into an object. It was one of the first things anyone learned.

“Perfect! We should go grab something to eat,” Yuta said, pointing toward the building behind him. “And maybe a change of shirt… please. If Maki-san tries to kill me, tell her it wasn’t my fault.”

Mai rolled her eyes. Her hands were still stained with blood, and she felt disgusting now that it was starting to dry. A change of clothes wouldn’t be enough—she probably needed a shower.

“I think I’d rather not see her like this either,” Mai said with a short laugh, then turned serious as she looked at Okkotsu. “Are you going to tell Utahime we trained less than we were supposed to?”

Yuta brushed his palms together and stayed quiet for a few seconds, glancing off to the side.

“Should I assume you’re hiding something?” he asked.

Even with his good intentions, always making sure she was okay before doing what was “right,” Yuta Okkotsu was probably the biggest hypocrite she knew. He followed rules and morality to the letter… until it actually mattered. Then he’d step over all of it without hesitation if it meant protecting his friends.

“Does it matter?” Mai shot back, staring at him, searching his eyes for any sign that she wouldn’t be able to play dumb with him.

Yuta laughed, that irritating sound Mai was getting far too used to for her own good. He laughed at everything. Anything anyone said seemed to genuinely amuse him.

“Are we asking questions now? Then I go first. Did you forget I’m still here? God, Gojo said Utahime’s brats were just like her,” Shoko chimed in, pulling out a pack of gum, popping one into her mouth before offering the others to them.

Mai took one. Yuta stared at it for a second, curious, before accepting and chewing it.

“So you’re saying Utahime is unbearable?” Mai tilted her head, a hint of mischief in her tone.

“Nah, I thought he was telling the truth. Now I realize he dodged the question pretty badly. You’re stubborn, Mai. Like a rock.”

Shoko gave her one of those unreadable looks, then casually smacked her on the head again. Mai squeezed her eyes shut but didn’t bother resisting. At this point, getting hit by Shoko had become routine, especially since she’d been sticking close to Utahime lately. Apparently, that gave her the authority to hit Mai whenever she felt like it. Was Mai going to do anything about it? No.

“In my opinion, you’re both terrible teachers,” Mai sighed, chewing her gum.

Yuta nodded slightly.

“Yeah… that’s true. I’ve never really done this before. Maki-san taught me how to fight a bit, but mostly… she didn’t have to say much. She just hit me,” he muttered, scratching his cheek as if he could still feel it.

“They really let her beat you into the ground?” Mai asked, fixing her hair, which was sticking up slightly after Shoko’s repeated smacks.

“Well! It was effective. I don’t think I would’ve learned any other way,” Yuta said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Mai knew what that meant. She’d been told the same thing more than once. She didn’t usually learn unless there was a hit involved. Her father had understood that well—after realizing she didn’t repeat mistakes if the punishment was harsh enough. Breaking her mouth, starving her… lessons carved into her body.

Was that what Yuta meant?

Did she need to be hit hard when she lost control to actually learn how to manage her cursed energy?

Had her body really gotten used to that kind of teaching?

If Momo hit her, would she finally stop chasing her?

Mai shook the thought away almost immediately.

“If that works for you…”

“I don’t think people need to go through extreme suffering to learn. I just think I was as stubborn as you.”

Mai raised an eyebrow. There was something almost offensive about Yuta even suggesting they were similar in any way. Their upbringings, their lives—even their traumas—were completely different. He had always tried to protect others, while Mai constantly weighed whether others were even worth protecting.

They weren’t similar.

Correction.

He was good.

Mai was a Zenin.

End of story.

“I highly doubt you and Mai are similar in any way,” Shoko said bluntly, crossing her arms without much care for how it sounded.

Yuta frowned, clearly not understanding.

“Was that an insult?” Mai asked.

“If you want to take it that way, sure. But honestly, I’m not wrong. If you don’t learn to be less stubborn, you won’t be able to do this properly.”

Mai stayed silent for a few seconds, then simply turned and started walking toward the building.

“I’ll have it under control in a week!” she shouted with confidence.

Yuta blinked, looking to Shoko for some kind of answer, but the doctor only laughed harder, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“Whatever helps you sleep tonight, Mai!”

Shoko’s response wasn’t exactly encouraging, but Mai had already said it once—and she was more than willing to slam herself against that damn wall as many times as it took to get back to normal.

“Then… were you dating?”

Nobara asked it the next day.

The shot cracked through the forest.

The can dropped from the log with a metallic clank.

“That’s it!” Itadori clapped, impressed by the clean shot Mai had just made.

Usually, the only ones who clapped for that kind of thing were Momo and Miwa. They used to praise her like it was something incredible—hitting multiple targets with a revolver. Now Miwa was stuck in that damn warehouse with Mechamaru, and Momo…

Well. That had already been made painfully clear, hadn’t it?

The applause died quickly when no one answered.

Mai didn’t turn around. She lowered the gun slowly, as if the question hadn’t been directed at her at all. Maybe it was about one of Megumi’s imaginary girlfriends—if her cousin weren’t such an idiot.

Was that homophobic? Didn’t matter.

“Uh… not exactly.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

Megumi lowered his book, finally paying actual attention. He glanced at her from the side, studying her.

“‘Not exactly’?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes. “What does that even mean?”

“What?” Nobara and Itadori spoke at the same time.

Mai clenched her jaw.

It wasn’t her problem. She didn’t have to explain anything.

They were the ones who insisted on coming, on training, on asking questions. She wasn’t desperate enough to humiliate herself like that.

“It’s not that complicated,” she muttered, more to herself than to them.

But it was.

She could feel their stares pressing against her back.

Itadori frowned, confused.

“Wait…” he said, leaning forward slightly. “So… yes or no?”

Mai exhaled sharply through her nose, irritated.

“I already said—not exactly.”

Nobara tilted her head, watching her with a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

“That’s not an answer,” she shot back.

Mai clicked her tongue.

The last thing she wanted was to sit there and explain to a bunch of second-years what the hell had happened between her and Momo.

She wasn’t even sure how to define it herself.

Calling it “dating” felt like too much.

But reducing it to “just friends” felt even worse.

She liked to think it had been something more. Even if neither of them had ever said it out loud.

Nobara drove a nail hard into the wood and launched it forward with a sharp strike.

She missed, but the can wobbled from the impact.

“Damn it!”

“Have some patience,” Mai said without looking at her. “You’re using one eye. Of course it’s harder.”

Nobara clicked her tongue, annoyed, but didn’t go for another throw.

“Are you going to answer, or are you going to keep dodging?”

Mai looked away.

“If you ask her… or anyone,” she muttered, “they’ll tell you no.”

The silence was immediate.

Megumi let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“…You’re not serious.”

“Ouch…” Itadori winced, closing one eye like it had hurt him personally. “That was rough.”

Nobara stared at Mai for a second longer, processing, then let out a dry laugh.

“Wow. Impressive.” She crossed her arms. “You’re doing all this for a girl you’re not even dating.”

She paused, looking Mai up and down.

“Congratulations, Zenin. You just revived romance… in its most pathetic version.”

Mai didn’t even react. For some reason, the words didn’t affect her at all. If anything, they only made her more aware of her situation. She wasn’t insecure about her decisions… maybe about the method, sure. She couldn’t deny the letter had made her hesitate, but even so, she felt oddly proud that what she had could at least be called a crush.

“Well, what did you expect? It’s what I’ve got, and I’m working with it.” Mai shrugged, gesturing for Itadori to stand.

He got up with determination, taking the stance she had shown him. Mai stepped behind him, adjusted his footing with her own, then gave his back a small tap to straighten him. She had seen Noritoshi take that stance more than once, so she remembered it well—and if Kamo wasn’t around to explain it, she would.

“One…” she raised her hand, lifting a finger.

Itadori removed the bandage from his wrist and positioned his hands the way she had taught him. Mai noticed the wound starting to bleed again. Beside them, Nobara set another nail in place, readying her hammer.

“Maybe something more serious… no wonder Momo doesn’t want to see you,” Nobara scoffed.

“Two…”

“Hey, don’t be like that, Kugisaki! It was probably complicated…”

“Three!”

They both released at the same time—and just as Mai expected, they missed. Itadori’s shot started well but veered off halfway through; Nobara’s grazed the can again without landing cleanly.

The cans were set far enough to be visible, but not close enough to make it easy. Mai figured they probably hadn’t tried shots at that distance before.

“Damn it…” Nobara cursed.

“I was close…” Itadori smiled.

“Something more serious?” Mai repeated, turning slightly.

“Did you ever do anything to show her it wasn’t temporary?” Nobara placed her hands on her hips, staring her down.

“I…”

“A kiss?” Itadori asked, curious.

“Does it count if it’s on the cheek?”

“A confession?” Megumi added this time.

“…Nothing beyond friendly.”

“You two never slept together?” Nobara tilted her head.

Mai jolted instantly, her face flushing bright red. Itadori reacted the same way; Megumi just looked away.

“I haven’t even kissed her!” Mai snapped.

“It was still an option!” Nobara shot back.

Mai shook her head slightly, dragging a hand up her face and through her hair.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept—and unfortunately, not with the act either. Even if it had been under questionable, unfortunate circumstances, Mai knew what sex was.

Did she want that with Momo? Of course.

Mai wanted intimacy with Momo. She wanted to be as close to her as possible, and sex would just be one of many ways to get there.

So no, she didn’t have an issue with the idea itself… but it still made her a little nervous.

“I’m not enough of a bitch to sleep with her and then pretend nothing happened,” Mai said, a hint of irritation in her tone. “Gumi, you gonna try or not?”

She gestured toward the cans, offering him the revolver. Megumi barely shook his head, not even looking up from his book. Mai let out a quiet breath; at least one of them had some sense.

“Well… she basically hates you now,” Nobara said, staring straight at her. “I doubt it was something minor.”

That hit.

It tightened around her chest, twisting her heart, and she was pretty sure that while it lay there trying to keep beating, Kugisaki had stepped on it for good measure.

Mai didn’t show it.

“You don’t need to know why,” she cut in. “Didn’t you want to learn? Then focus and stop sticking your noses where they don’t belong.”

Nobara rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue in annoyance. Beside her, Itadori shrank a little, like he wanted to disappear from the conversation entirely.

“Did you get with someone else?” Nobara pressed, not softening the question at all.

“I could barely handle one,” Mai replied flatly, making a face. “Didn’t need another.”

“Did you hit her?”

Mai’s head snapped toward her.

She knew what anger felt like. Right now, she could feel it crawling under her skin, digging into her bones, begging to be let out—begging her to lash out at the source.

What offended her most was how seriously Nobara had asked it. Like it was a real possibility. Careful, but not denying it either.

Mai had seen it before—more than once. Her father’s hands wrapped around her mother’s throat, fingers digging into porcelain skin while he spat venom in her face. There were plenty of ways to describe him as “violent.”

None of them applied to Mai. Not like that. Not with Momo.

“Say that again and I’ll break something.”

Nobara didn’t even blink.

She seemed to understand immediately, nodding once, backing off without pushing further.

“Then tell me what you did,” she said instead. “Because for Momo Nishimiya to not even want to see you… something went really wrong.”

Mai nudged her foot sharply, adjusting her stance. She put a bit too much force into it, judging by the look she got in return.

There was a brief silence.

“I ate her pizza,” Mai said finally, like it was nothing. “Without asking.”

Nobara exhaled sharply through her nose.

Itadori gave Mai a small, understanding smile, like he could tell she was deflecting.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re nosy,” Mai shot back without looking at her.

“You’re not going to say it.”

“Not a chance,” Mai said with a short laugh.

No one pushed again.

They kept practicing until Itadori and Kugisaki eventually got hungry.

So Mai ended up overhearing where Momo was.

Pure coincidence—but she’d take it.

“Kyoto?”

Utahime turned immediately, frowning the second she noticed her.

“Why are you listening in on adult conversations?” her teacher scolded, clearly annoyed.

Mai pushed the door fully open and walked in without any hurry. The office looked more like a jungle of unsigned papers and scattered documents. Still, she made her way to the desk, where Shoko sat on top of it while Utahime remained in her chair.

“You know, there are a lot of porn movies where the doctor is on the table and the girl—”

“Mai Zenin!” Utahime cut her off sharply.

Shoko let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head, though she looked mildly amused by Mai’s usual antics.

“Sorry,” Mai said, not sounding particularly sorry. “You were talking about it, I was about to come in, and then… well…” She paused. “Momo’s at the Kyoto school?”

“You really couldn’t help overhearing?” Shoko finished for her.

Mai gave a small nod. She wasn’t sure she should feel guilty, exactly—but knowing something concrete about Momo’s whereabouts brought her a strange sense of relief. At least she wouldn’t have to wander all over Tokyo just to realize Nishimiya wasn’t there.

Utahime pressed a hand to the bridge of her nose, eyes closing, exhaustion evident in the dark circles under them.

“God… what am I going to do with you?”

Mai looked away, a bit uncomfortable. She knew her teacher already had enough on her plate, and she was well aware that she, of all people, wasn’t exactly helping.

“So,” Utahime continued, “what are you planning to do with that?”

Mai looked back up, raising an eyebrow.

“Be more specific.”

Utahime’s frown deepened.

“Are you going to Kyoto to disobey my orders and bother Nishimiya again, or are you staying here like a good girl?”

Mai opened her mouth, then closed it again. She considered lying… but there was no point in repeating the same mistakes that had caused all of this.

“What do you expect me to do?” she asked instead.

Utahime sighed.

“I expect you to be considerate. Especially with Momo. The last thing I need is for things between you to get even worse… with everything going on—Mechamaru, you, Momo…”

Mai tensed. A low growl slipped from her throat as she clenched her teeth.

Shoko stopped looking at Utahime and glanced quickly at the younger Zenin.

Mai shrugged, and Shoko simply lifted a hand in a silent gesture, telling her to keep it together.

“Kokichi is different. His situation escalated to another level.”

“Mai…” Utahime warned, her voice heavy.

They’d had this conversation a thousand times already—but Mai had no intention of agreeing with Utahime’s idea of handling Mechamaru gently after everything he’d done.

Right, she thought bitterly. As if everyone here had to mourn the fact that that idiot betrayed them out of pure selfishness.

“Ah, yes. Nothing serious,” she spat. “Next time he tries to kill us, we should just send him to therapy.”

“Mai,” Shoko cut in calmly, “Utahime is already exhausted, as you can see. Don’t give her more to deal with. Just answer the question. Are you staying or not?”

Mai lowered her gaze, her fingers fidgeting restlessly.

She could do whatever she wanted… or leave it for now. She didn’t have to act on impulse—not for this, at least. She had time. It wasn’t like Momo was going to disappear from Kyoto overnight.

There was no need to make Utahime’s day harder.

“I’m staying,” she said at last, firm.

Utahime nodded, relieved, letting out a breath.

“And what did you come here for?”

“Hm? Oh, right…” Mai rubbed the back of her neck, a bit more nervous now. “I… wanted to know… what schools I could consider if I decided to study as a non-sorcerer.”

Shoko’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Oh…”

Utahime straightened in her seat as well.

“Oh.”

She closed her laptop, and the two women exchanged a look before turning their attention back to Mai.

Mai wasn’t going to go in.

It sounded selfish, she knew that. Especially because of Miwa—the girl who had put up with her temper and her shitty attitude for two years, the same girl who had helped her deal with the endless problems she used to have back when the Zenin were still around. Miwa had always been a ray of light in her life, one of the few people Mai would actually do something for, someone she’d even be willing to sacrifice herself for.

But not this.

She wasn’t willing to step into that warehouse and look at that bastard’s face. If she could, Mai would carve another scar into that delicate-looking skin of his.

Even so, Miwa didn’t push her. When she saw Mai stop outside and refuse to take another step, she just smiled and said she wouldn’t take long.

Typical Miwa—letting Mai throw all her little tantrums.

Mai had only gone in once, and it had been to kill Kokichi. It sounded bad—questionable, even—but she hadn’t been able to help it that day. She remembered it clearly: it had been one, maybe two weeks since she woke up from the coma and started walking around the school again.

Maybe the mistake had been Utahime assuming she’d react like Miwa—that when she saw him there, whole and alive, she’d rush forward and hug him, relieved he hadn’t died.

It had been the exact opposite.

She hadn’t said a word the entire way. She’d opened the large warehouse doors and seen the talismans covering the room and the entrance, sealing Mechamaru inside.

Mai had wanted his eyes to be dead when she saw him. His body starved, ribs visible beneath his skin, his hair tangled and neglected. She wanted the consequences to be written all over his flesh.

It had been a mistake to think people that kind could be that cruel.

Even if it was a cell without daylight, there was a futon, a small shelf with scattered books, and, as if that wasn’t enough, a tray with two empty wooden plates and a plastic cup. He even had chopsticks, like he was being treated like a normal person.

It disgusted her.

What disgusted her more was the hopeful look on Mechamaru’s face—how those gray eyes, tinged faintly with blue, lit up with happiness. And then that voice, light and unfamiliar, saying she was alive, that she was okay.

Mai had walked forward, stopping right in front of the cage, still without saying a single word. When Mechamaru reached out, trying to grab her shoulders, to hold her with something close to affection, Mai just grabbed his forearms and yanked him forward.

He was weak, she’d thought that day.

She stepped back now, kicking a rock as she stared at the warehouse, as if expecting some kind of sound—but there was nothing. Just the quiet of nature, and her.

That day, Mechamaru’s face had been slammed against the cold metal bars. Miwa had grabbed Mai’s arm, crying, begging her to let go, and Todo had to physically pull her away and drag her out of the warehouse.

Mai didn’t regret it. She still believed trash like Mechamaru deserved to die. People like him didn’t get to live peacefully after everything that had happened because of them.

She didn’t blame the cursed boy, nor Satoru Gojo and his arrogance, much less Megumi Fushiguro and his emotional hesitation.

It was his fault.

If he hadn’t made that deal with Mahito, then Kenjaku’s plan would’ve been delayed—and Gojo might’ve been able to stop it, or even end it altogether.

“Mai.”

Miwa’s voice pulled her back.

Mai quickly stopped staring at the rock and turned her head toward her friend. She swallowed the urge to sigh when she saw that bright smile—like she’d just been told the best news in the world.

“How was it?”

“It was fine. He was reading the new book Utahime-sensei brought him, and he told me a bit about it. He also said he hopes you’re doing well… and that you should come visit him sometime,” Miwa said, like it was the most normal thing in the world—like she was talking about the weather.

Mai’s expression darkened, a growl caught in her throat.

“Tell him to go to hell.”

Miwa sighed, her brows drooping with quiet sadness.

“Mai…”

Lately, people were saying her name a lot—for all the wrong reasons.

Mai shoved her hands into her pockets and started walking without replying. The blue-haired girl didn’t complain; she simply fell into step beside her.

“I think you should talk to him,” Miwa insisted.

“I’m not interested in talking to that traitorous rat,” Mai muttered, disgust lacing her voice.

Miwa shook her head softly, absently playing with the small bag hanging from her shoulder. She wore a beautiful long-sleeved blouse with wide cuffs that left her shoulders exposed, paired with a long skirt. She looked almost celestial—too much, in Mai’s opinion. Far too much for someone like Mechamaru.

“Are you never going to forgive him?” Miwa asked, without a hint of judgment.

Mai lifted her gaze toward the trees, watching the leaves and the trunks stretching up toward the sky. She stayed silent for a few seconds, sunlight brushing across her eyes before she kept walking.

“I still don’t get why you forgave him, Miwa. He literally lied to you…”

Miwa let out a soft laugh.

Mai raised a brow, confused. She was pretty sure she hadn’t said anything funny—if anything, she’d expected tears, or maybe Katsumi snapping at her.

“Oh, Mai… do you really think that?”

Mai clicked her tongue. “What else am I supposed to think?”

Miwa leaned forward slightly, her blue hair falling to one side as she looked at her with those wide, bright eyes only she had.

“Then Nishimiya can’t forgive you?”

Mai opened her mouth, then shut it again, irritation flashing across her face—but nothing Miwa hadn’t dealt with before. If anything, Mai’s mood swings were better than they’d been months ago, which only raised more questions than answers. Still, Miwa knew better than to dig too deep. It wasn’t exactly stable ground—not when Mai had been dealing with the idea of dying on her own terms.

Or maybe it had been about Maki.

Or both, in the worst-case scenario—one feeding into the other.

“…I don’t know.”

“I see. Is it really that bad?”

Mai gave a small nod, sighing tiredly. “I’ve been training every day… well, ‘training’ isn’t really the word. It’s more like torture disguised as control.”

“We both know it’s necessary,” Miwa pointed out. “I still have to learn how to properly use a sword… Oh! By the way, do you think you could make me one too? Not like Maki-san’s—I’m guessing that one’s more complex—but something similar. Since my binding vow won’t let me draw a katana again, Kusakabe-sensei has been explaining sword techniques to me in simpler terms, and…”

“Miwa.”

“Only if you can! I get that maybe you don’t want to use your technique and you’re not exactly fond of it, but—”

“Miwa. Wait.”

Miwa stopped talking and finally looked at her. What she found was a smile on Mai’s lips. It still had that usual Zenin edge to it, a hint of mockery, but it was softer—almost warm.

“I think I’d actually like to give this technique a better use,” Mai said.

Miwa’s cheeks flushed instantly, her mouth parting in surprise. Mai couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh at how openly happy she looked.

“Really?”

“Of course. I hate fighting and killing curses, but I guess learning how to make swords of different sizes and styles for you… that sounds a lot better. After everything you’ve done for me, I never really—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Miwa threw her arms around her, gripping the fabric of Mai’s shirt as she buried her face into her shoulder, nearly knocking her over. Mai caught her by the arms before that could happen, letting out a small, surprised breath.

Maybe, in the past, she would’ve just frozen—like she always did when Miwa clung to her like this, looking for affection, not knowing what to say. Even further back, at the very beginning of school, she probably would’ve kicked her away.

But now… this felt like the moment to show how grateful she actually was.

Mai wrapped her arms around Miwa and gently rubbed her back. She didn’t say anything, but she could feel Miwa smiling against her skin, almost like she could see it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Really, Mai—thank you!”

Miwa’s squeals usually made her grimace, but this time Mai just laughed. It wasn’t so bad—not really. The thought lingered at the edge of her mind, something she kept away from her mouth for the sake of her own emotional safety… and to avoid Utahime dragging her into some heartfelt conversation.

But the moment she stopped feeling that constant lack of cursed energy—when it started flowing in real amounts—she understood.

She was part of the system now. Just another cog in it.

Either you were the weapon—like Satoru Gojo, Yuta Okkotsu, or Yuji Itadori.

Or you were the one who made the weapon.

A technique that created objects out of cursed energy—as long as they weren’t organic or alive, Mai could make them. What kind of use did something like that have?

Too many.

She’d known it from the start. She could’ve become a walking generator of cursed tools, made a fortune doing business with jujutsu society, far away from the Zenin clan.

But that didn’t matter anymore.

Still, there was that constant feeling in her chest—that if her teacher asked her to fully commit as a sorcerer, to produce whatever they needed, she’d say yes without hesitation.

She had a problem.

A serious one.

Wanting to keep people close, no matter what.

She knew it. Utahime had pointed it out after noticing how Mai would get rough, even violent, whenever it came to stopping others from putting themselves in danger. Kind of ironic, considering the way she expressed it—harsh, biting, sometimes outright cruel. The last time, she’d told Todo he might as well kill himself if he was going to throw himself into danger like that.

“It’s fine, really. Did you expect me to use this ability for everyone except you? Don’t be pathetic.”

Mai finally took Miwa by the shoulders and pulled her back a little.

Miwa had small tears in her eyes, maybe from too many emotions hitting at once. Maybe it was the feeling that her life was finally going back to normal—different, yes, but still everything she had wanted, all in one place.

“Is Momo-san talking to you again?”

“I think she’d talk to Sebastian Stan before she talks to me again.”

Miwa made a sympathetic face.

“Hey… she doesn’t hate you that much…”

Mai sighed, lowering her gaze. “You’re right. I don’t know how you managed to forgive Mechamaru… but I also don’t know how Momo could ever…” She paused, clicking her tongue softly. “I messed up.”

Miwa nodded gently. She didn’t judge, just rested her hands on Mai’s shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze.

“Should I have stayed? I mean… she asked me to. Or maybe I shouldn’t have told her I was going to the Zenin clan?”

“Oh, no, I think she would’ve been even more upset,” Miwa said, shaking her head lightly. “You’ll figure it out, okay? You two always argue, then talk things out… and the next day you’re even better than before.”

Despite the cold, Mai felt her cheeks grow warm. She really hoped she wasn’t blushing like Miwa—who looked like a literal tomato.

“I think we only fought twice before this…”

“Oh, but they were big ones,” Miwa teased, her voice trembling slightly. “I felt like a little kid waiting for dad to apologize and mom to say everything’s okay.”

Mai frowned.

The first time had been barely two weeks after they met. Yeah… she’d been that unbearable. The second was when Mai came back covered in bruises from the clan.

Now that she thought about it, Momo had stopped asking about those bruises after that.

Had she really been that bad?

Bad enough for Momo to just… accept that kind of life? To settle for empty reassurances that everything was fine?

Mai had always thought she was protecting her—keeping her away from something even Satoru Gojo couldn’t fix.

But maybe she’d just been selfish.

Kugisaki had been right. She’d left Momo in the dark the entire time. She hadn’t even had the decency to pull away and spare her all that pain.

Momo…

She hoped she could forgive her. Hoped she could love her the way Miwa loved Mechamaru, enough to come back.

She wished she could say that out loud.

Lately, it felt like the words came easier. Maybe if Momo wasn’t running from her, she’d be able to hold onto her, bury her face against her and breathe her in until the outside air didn’t matter anymore.

“So I’m the idiot dad who keeps causing problems?”

Miwa lifted her hands to Mai’s cheeks and simply smiled.

“No. Honestly, you didn’t say much. You used to go really quiet whenever Momo started arguing with you. You’d even look at me like I was supposed to save you. I think Momo was the one who ended up apologizing… and you’d just say everything was fine.”

Mai couldn’t help laughing. She held onto Miwa’s hands, resting her own over them.

She definitely missed this.

“Oh, go to hell.”

Miwa shook her head, a confident smile on her lips.

“You know I’m right.”

Mai sat down in the dining hall the next day. Yuta would arrive at nine in the morning, and they’d fall back into the same routine as always. It wasn’t as exhausting anymore; she could even say she was making progress with this whole cursed energy control thing.

She turned on her phone and unlocked it, opening Momo’s contact. They hadn’t spoken since November seventh of last year. She smiled faintly when she saw the little yellow bird stickers she used to send just to tease Nishimiya. After that… there were countless missed calls and messages from Mai, all waiting for Momo to have the decency to respond. She figured she’d been blocked, or at least muted.

She tapped the call icon, then hung up and switched to a voice message instead.

“You know… I think when we get back, we could start including Miwa in our arguments.”