Archive of Our Own

“Alright, you little hellions, pick a cereal so we can keep movin’. We gotta get dinner started soon, so we can’t spend too much longer here.”

Fushiguro Toji looks down at his two boys in the basket of the shopping cart that he’s pushing, not really getting on them for taking such a long time to pick what they wanted, but they look back at him just as scandalized as if he had—at least, as scandalized as any two four-year-old’s can look.

“You’re a hellion.” Megumi, his son on the left, says accusingly, pointing a finger up at him. His small face is scrunched up in disgust, obviously mad at his father for calling him such.

“What is a hellion?” Yuuji, his son on the right, and ever confused but curious, asked, only glancing back at his father as he looked through his cereal options. He pointed at one, though, not even a few seconds after, prompting Toji to grab it for him and place it right next to him. At his side, he felt a hand swat at his hip, and despite there being no real strength behind it (at least, not enough to hurt him) he let out a small grunt, looking down to his six-year-old daughter, Tsumiki. She was giving him a very firm look (again, as much as any six-year-old can look), a small pout-looking frown etched onto her face.

“You shouldn’t let them repeat words like that,” she tells him with a huff, leaning up on her tip-toes to get a look at the cereal Yuuji had picked. Megumi pointed at one, then, too, so Toji leaned over and grabbed his as she continued, “They’re bad for them, and they shouldn’t say them.”

“Aw, c’mon now, Tsumiki,” he says teasingly to her, reaching down to ruffle her hair a little. “There’s no harm in a bad word or two. Besides, let’s not forget how much you used to repeat bad words.”

His daughter gave him a very unamused look, a look she had learned from Toji himself, while the boys chuckled to themselves in the basket—they may not remember it, especially Yuuji, since he had been brought into the family by Toji (something he did not yet know, but would many years later), but Toji and she do, so that’s what makes it funny, and the boys know that much. Huffing once again, however, Tsumiki simply makes to grab a box of cereal for herself, a small harrumph exiting her as she drops it in—very pointedly not letting Toji do it for her, now that she was irritated with him—and moves back to her position she’d taken at his left hip. She’s not hanging onto him, though, like she had been before, and while Toji does miss the feeling—he likes feeling like a dad, after all, and having his daughter hang onto his belt-loop makes him feel that way—he simply smirks at her, chuckling under his breath himself as he crosses cereal off his paper list and reads the next item after it.

“Fruit,” he reads aloud, mostly for the kids, so they can begin to think of what they want. He looks up, then, and towards the end of the grocery aisle, trying to envision the mental map of the store he has created over the many times he’s been here. “It’s out this aisle and to the right, past the frozen stuff. Any of you want frozen stuff?”

“Ice cream!” Yuuji, predictably, cries out, leaning over to grab his father’s hand, shaking it pleadingly. “C’mon, Dad, I want cookies and cream this time!”

“Alright, but ya gotta keep it in mind just in case I forget when we get there,” he tells his son even as he makes a note of it on the paper—just a quick scrawl, nothing huge—looking to his other son. “You, Megumi?”

“…Ice cream.” His other son agrees with his brother, causing him to grin as he sits back down properly and giggles at Megumi. Megumi’s face brightens, giving his own small smile back, before he adds, “But I also want pizza.”

“‘Pizza?’” Toji repeats emphatically, momentarily dropping his list and pen (though he’s sure he adds the item to it before he does so) to raise an eyebrow at him. “Pizza and ice cream?”

“Yeah.” Megumi replies rather impassively, making Toji chuckle again; he’s such a dry kid, so unlike his brother, who’s always got a bright and friendly disposition. He’s almost exactly like Toji, though, with very few discrepancies between the two of them, and so it’s the funniest thing in the world to the father.

“Hey, I’m just checking,” he tells them both, setting the list and his pen back in his pocket before he makes to move from the aisle. “C’mon, Tsumiki, you can tell me what you want as we…”

Toji trailed off as he noticed that his daughter had suddenly pressed herself into his side, her gaze locked onto the opposite end of the aisle. Toji raised an eyebrow in confusion, his hand coming down to shake her shoulder and ask her what was wrong. He looked over, though, to where she was looking, and his eyes widened in surprise:

At first glance, from the corner of his eye, Toji had seen the other shopper walk into the aisle from behind him as the boys had been telling him what they’d wanted from the frozen section, and since he had looked like any old shopper, Toji hadn’t bothered to look twice. However, not that he was, and now that their back was turned, he could see that, wrapped around their shoulders and circling their neck loosely, was a snake-like Cursed Spirit. At noticing Toji and Tsumiki looking, it turned its head to them, tongue flicking out as if a real snake, but neither the shopper nor Toji’s sons noticed them looking (the boys, thankfully, were too engrossed in trying to read the back of one of the cereal boxes, trying to play the game it prompted them to). Only Tsumiki, who was pressing herself further into Toji now that the Curse was looking at them, had taken notice of the Curse at all before her father did.

Glancing to the boys as he protectively wrapped his arm around his daughter, Toji took the moment to properly scan his surroundings; the Curse had no more Cursed Energy than Tsumiki herself currently did, the boys’ own Cursed Energy (which he had not yet told them about, for their individual Techniques, should they have any, had not yet manifested yet, so there was no reason to tell them anything about Cursed Energy before it did, Toji felt) was a good amount more than the Curse’s. It was more than likely why the Curse wasn’t lashing out, though that could also be because it couldn’t separate from the shopper it was sitting on. If he had to guestimate a Grade for it, some sort of classification for it, he’d guess it was a Grade 4 Curse, which was nothing he himself could not easily handle.

However, considering he was in the middle of a grocery store, with two of his children ignorant to the thing with his other obviously frightened by it, along with the fact that the shopper themself did not seem aware of the Curse and thus was most likely just some poor human afflicted by it, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. Nothing he would do about it; he wasn’t going to summon his own Inventory Cursed Spirit—a worm-like Curse, nothing major itself—from his stomach, in full-view of his kids, just to have a weapon capable of taking it out. No, it was far easier to ignore the Curse, as well as the shopper, and get out of the store as quickly as was possible. Fortunately, besides the boys’ frozen treats and the fruits, there wasn’t anything more to grab, so that goal wasn’t impossible to reach.

So, Toji squeezed his daughter’s shoulder in a way that he hoped was assuring and said, lowly so the boys wouldn’t hear, “Don’t look at it, Tsumiki,” and moved around her, moving to the side of the shopping cart, blocking the sight of the shopper and the Curse from her and the boys. The boys looked up at him in confusion, with Yuuji asking him what he was doing, but he said nothing as he began to situate a few things in a different way, trying to make a clear spot. When he was sure that Tsumiki would have enough room, even with the boys situated as they were, he picked her up and put her in, going back around and turning the cart around to the end of the aisle that had been behind him.

“Hey, I thought we were gonna get ice cream!” Yuuji cried in confusion, but Toji reassured him quickly, turning the cart to the left and out of the aisle as he did.

“We are, Yuuji, we’re just goin’ a different way.” He said, a hand back on Tsumiki’s shoulder. “Decided I didn’t want to go the other way. It isn’t a big deal, son, we’re still getting ice cream.”

“And pizza.” Megumi supplied, though he was looking at Tsumiki with an inscrutable look. She still looked a bit pale, obviously still unnerved by what she had seen, but there was nothing Toji could do about that right now.

“And pizza.” Toji agreed, turning into an aisle that would lead them directly to the frozen area. “And whatever the hell Tsumiki wants, too.”

Still with a smile on his face because he had not noticed anything out of the ordinary just yet, Yuuji looked at his sister, hands on her knees as he asked, “What do you want, Miki?”

“Huh? Oh…” His daughter fumbled for an answer to her brother’s inquiry, looking around as she noticed that they were in a different aisle. Toji couldn’t blame her; if he hadn’t been born into the Clan he had been, he’s sure he’d have been a hell of a lot more scared the first time he’d seen a Curse, too.

“Popsicles.” She finally squeaked out, catching sight of a random yellow box full of them.

“Then we’re gettin’ ice cream, pizza, and popsicles.” Toji said calmly, though in truth he was unsure of how to smooth out his daughter’s feelings; Yuuji would, eventually, pick up on the changed atmosphere, especially since Megumi had already noticed and was looking at his sister and father with eyes that were way more intuitive than Toji felt any four-year-old’s eyes should be. With that in mind, he was eager to try and get her mood back up, he just didn’t know how. How does he make her feel better when he can’t even properly explain just what she’d seen to her just yet?

Holding in a sigh, Toji makes to grab the box of popsicles and place them in her lap, hoping that the sight of what she’d wanted will level her back out, but he doesn’t have much hope. Thankfully, though, Yuuji—gods bless his second son, he’s just so infectiously happy all the damn time—caught her attention, then, with some cartoon character that the box had on it, and Megumi’s attention was captured right along with hers, too, smoothing his own expression out. Upon seeing that, Toji did sigh; Tsumiki’s eyes have brightened once again, and she doesn’t look like she’s shaking out of fear anymore, so he breathes in relief. He’ll handle the consequences of the incident later, because for now, he’s got three kids and himself to feed within the next hour (lest he hear their complaints of hunger, and he’s never eager to hear that, so he’ll do what he can to get them fed by then).

He does not notice, however, that when he moves towards the ice cream and his sons clamber to look at the flavours available, Tsumiki looks at him, too. She is looking at him in curiousity, in confusion, in wonder.

(She knows that he knows that she knows he had seen what she had, and she knows that he knows exactly what it is.

She wants to know exactly what it is.)

“We should wrestle.”

Toji scoffs at his son, pausing in where he had been about to tuck him into his bed. “Megumi, it’s ten o’clock at night. We should be asleep; I’ve got work tomorrow, and you three have school.”

His son, for all his worth, huffs very indignantly, shuffling underneath his blankets further, his mouth now covered by his elephant-patterned comforter.

“I don’t like school.” He says, muffled. “The kids make fun of Ji-Ji and I hate them.”

“Hate’em all ya want, Megumi, I’m not saying you can’t,” Toji assures him as he begins to tuck him in again. “School’s important, though. At least, that’s what the law says.”

“The law is weird,” Yuuji whispers as if he will be heard by someone he does not want to be heard by, laying right next to Megumi. Even though his sons have their own rooms, they have hardly ever liked to sleep apart; the only time Yuuji sleeps on his own is when he naps, on the weekends. Megumi is a bit more peculiar on his nap-times in that he hates napping, though he’ll entertain himself with whatever’s in Yuuji’s room quietly while the other naps. The two of them really hate being apart, and really, Toji thinks it’s really endearing, so why force them into their own rooms at night? If they want to do so eventually, they’ll decide to on their own, not him.

“You’re right in my eyes, son, but you still have to listen to it. At least for now; when you’re older, that’s your choice.” Toji moves to tuck Yuuji in, too, chuckling as his son grins at him. Ironically enough, not that long ago, Toji had been living above—or, really, below, depending on the perspective—the law himself, not caring about it at all. He knows, though, that he does not want his kids to have that sort of life, especially as he does not have it now for himself, so he will make sure they follow it for the time being. He isn’t kidding when he says it’s their choice when they get older.

“You’re old,” Megumi says just then, his mouth popping out from his comforter to show his frown. “Do you not listen to the law?”

This damned kid. Toji thinks in amusement. “I’m barely in my thirties, son, I’m not that old. Besides, I listen to the law most of the time. I’ll explain when you’re older.”

Megumi huffs again; “Always when we’re older.” He mumbles, grumpy that he can’t know now, but Toji simply chuckles at him and shifts, looking to stand, before one of Yuuji’s hands shoots out from the comforter, brushing against his wrist and making him look back at his son, his eyebrow raised.

“What is it, Yuuji?” He asks him, settling back onto the bed. He’s surprised when the boy reaches for his hand again and grabs it this time, only a few fingers, and squeeze with a good amount of strength; Yuuji’s always been physically gifted, but the grip he’s got on Toji is almost unbearable, even for him.

“Miki got scared today.” His son says with worry; it makes Megumi turn his head to him, even as Toji’s eyebrow falls from where it has risen. So he did notice. Toji thinks. He just didn’t say anything about it. He’s as intuitive as Megumi.

“She… She saw something scary, but it’s okay. I didn’t let it hurt her.” Toji says, eyebrows furrowing slightly. There’s not much he can—wants to—say just yet about it.

“Is that why you put her in the basket? And went a different way to the ice cream?” Yuuji questions him, his own eyebrows—pink, different from Toji’s and his brother and sister’s—furrowing.

“It is. But it isn’t anything to worry about, not just yet.” Toji tries to reassure them, disentangling his fingers from his son’s small hold so he can tuck it back under the blanket.

“Why not?” Megumi asked, shifting to look at his father better.

“Because it’s scary, what she saw. I don’t want to tell you yet, or you’ll be too scared to sleep, and then you’ll be too tired for school,” he tells them, his own hand reaching over to brush over Megumi’s cheek for a moment. He repeats the action for Yuuji, looking to console the worried boy.

“But she got scared! What if she can’t sleep?” Yuuji asks him, gripping the comforter closer to him.

“Hey, Yuuji, it’s alright; I’ll go check on her, okay?” He suggests to the boy, again brushing his hand against his cheek to calm him down. He'd already planned to do so, but telling the boy might help him settle. “Don’t worry too much. You’re four, son, you don’t need to worry so much.”

Not yet satisfied, Yuuji pouted with a whine, though he pressed his face into Toji’s hand all the same. “You worry a lot. You’re weird like that.”

“I’m also your dad, Yuuji, I am supposed to worry a lot.

“You’re weirder than I am, anyway, the both of you are. It’s why you’re brothers.” Toji teases them both, grinning at the second whine that garners from Yuuji and the glare it garners from Megumi, but he leans up to press a kiss to Yuuji’s forehead anyway, ruffling his hair.

“Now go to bed, okay? I’ll check on your sister.” He tells him again, turning to Megumi and pointing to his forehead; asking him silently if he, too, wants a forehead kiss. His son’s face scrunches up a bit.

“No.” He all but snaps at his father, but then he’s shimmying his arms out from his comforter to reach up, wiggling his fingers at Toji; his own silent asking for a hug. Toji, however, groans, head dropping for a moment just above Yuuji’s, causing the boy to giggle.

“Gonna make me go all the goddamn way around the bed…” He mumbles to himself even as he leans back and gets up from the spot he’d been sitting at, taking the two steps around the bed it was for him to get to Megumi’s side, leaning down and scooping his son up and out of his comforter, holding him against his broad chest as he leans up to properly hug him. Megumi’s skinny little arms throw themselves around his shoulders as best as he can make them go, his face squished into his collar bone. Yuuji, still on the bed and content with that, is giggling up at them, grin bright.

“Miki would be mad if she heard you say that,” Yuuji supplies to him helpfully, making Toji smirk down at him as he pats Megumi’s back.

“True, but she can’t hear me say that right now, so I better not hear y’all tell her anything in the morning, got it?” He tells them as Megumi begins to squirm, now wanting out of the hug. Leaning down to put him back under his covers, he tucks them both back in sufficiently and points at them both, finger wagging.

“Sleep now, alright?” He says, though they both know he isn’t asking even if it’s framed like a question. They’re satisfied with their time with him, though, so they both nod at him.

“Good. I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

Toji softens his expression, giving them one last once-over before he goes to make his way out of the room, almost out the door when Megumi calls out:

“Goodnight, Dad.”

Looking over his shoulder, Toji rests his weight against the door, taking a moment to study both of his sons before he gives them a small smile—it causes them both to smile back, happy to see the look on his face.

“’Night, boys.”

He closes the door to Megumi’s room, then—because if he left it open, Megumi will get mad and refuse to sleep until it’s closed—and takes a moment to rest his head against the white wood, his smile not having fallen just yet.

He still can’t say that particular five letter word—

—but he, so dearly, does, when it comes to his kids.

Moving away from the door when he hears his sons’ mumbling die off into soft snores and steady breathing, he makes his way down the hall a bit to Tsumiki’s room, the door notably cracked from the way moonlight is streaming into the hallway from the crack; it’s not a surprise, as Tsumiki is not unknown for having her door open at night, so he does not grow fearful from seeing it open. He does, however, begin to have fear grow in his chest when, upon nudging the door open, he does not see her. He almost calls for her when he notices that moonlight is streaming into the hallway via another cracked door, and he looks over to see that it’s his own. Knowing, right then, just where his daughter is, because his door is never close to being closed, he leaves her room open as he moves away and makes his way to his, opening the door all the way as quietly as he can, looking in and spotting her easily.

Over by his window on the opposite end of the room, she was standing with her chin resting on the windowsill, just barely able to see out the window and into the neighbourhood. She’s got one of her dolls in her hand, holding onto it via its ears (it’s a bunny, he can tell from the length). She hasn’t seemed to notice Toji just yet, so he crosses his room quietly—but not silently, so he doesn’t startle her to death—and appears behind her, leaning against the side of the window and looking out, his arms crossing.

There are no words said between them for some time, but he knows she’s dying to ask him something. He knows what it is, but he won’t tell her that he does—he wants to see if she’ll broach the subject on her own. It’s fine if she doesn’t, but he wants to see if she will.

He looks down, finally, when he feels that she’s switched her hold on her doll from one hand to the other, the one she had previously been holding it with now bunched into his nightshirt. She hasn’t looked away from the window just yet, but he doesn’t mind, and instead lets his arms uncross and reach for her. She lets him pick her up and away from the window, her hold letting go from his shirt only briefly as she moves her grip from his torso to his shoulder, and doesn’t say anything as he plops down onto his bed right in the middle, back up against his headboard as he settles her in his lap, arms around her at her back as she faces him.

“Alright,” he says, settling his emerald eyes on her dark brown ones. “Talk to Dad, kiddo; what’s on your mind?”

“What was that thing? At the store?” She asks him immediately, messing with her little bunny’s dress absentmindedly as she studies his face—sharp, scarred, but trying to be gentle with her. He doesn’t know how she feels about it, but it seems to be alright, because she doesn’t begin to cry, like she had the first few times she had looked him head-on when he first entered her life some four years ago.

“It was glowing. It was a snake, but it looked… Different.” She continued on, eyes cloudy as she looked at him. “Ji-Ji and Megs didn’t see it, but you did. Why did we see it?”

Toji smoothed her hair down some at the back of her head, only hesitating for a moment before he decided on what to say.

“Yuuji and Megumi would have seen it too, if they’d looked,” he corrects her gently, not missing the way her eyes widened. “They can see them just like you and I can. They just haven’t noticed yet; or they have and just haven’t said anything.”

“But that thing, it was really scary,” Tsumiki argues with him, almost sounding desperate. “If they’d seen it, would they have gotten scared? Like I did? Why didn’t you?”

“Because I’ve seen those a thousand times before, Tsumiki,” he tells her as calmly as he can, rubbing her back to try and calm her down as well. “I know that one was scary, but it wouldn’t have hurt you. I’d have never let it even come near you. I promise you that.”

His daughter gave him a wary look, eyes searching his. “But… If you’ve seen them a thousand times… Were you ever scared?” She asked him hesitantly, almost in disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom the idea of something scaring him. He’s a little touched, in a way—he knows it’s partially his own fault, if she thinks there’s nothing that frightens him, but he’s glad she sees him as someone strong. It means a lot, in all honesty, to him.

“Not really, no.” He tells her truthfully, because Curses hadn’t ever scared him. “But it’s okay that you were—that you are.

“Listen to me closely, Miki,” he tells her suddenly, his voice dropping in volume just a tad. She leans in a bit closer to him to hear him better. “I’m going to tell you something that I can’t tell your brothers just yet, okay? So you can’t tell them what I’m going to tell you, you got that?”

“Why can’t you tell them?” She asks him first out of confusion, her eyebrows rising. “Is it bad?”

Toji hesitated for another moment, a slight frown appearing on his lips as he tried to find a way to answer.

“Not necessarily, kiddo,” he finally decides on, his frown disappearing. He scratches at his chin a moment. “It really all depends on you, honestly, but it isn’t the worst thing.

“At any rate,” he continues, deciding he’ll trust in her to not tell her brothers even though she didn’t promise him to, “that thing at the store, it was a being called a Cursed Spirit. You can call it just a Curse for short.”

Tsumiki’s eyes narrowed—an action that made her look so much older than she really was. How was it that she and Megumi seemed to be much older souls than they really were?

“‘A Cursed Spirit?’” She repeated slowly, as if trying the words out. “What… What are they?”

“Well, like I said, they’re just—beings, really.” Toji again scratched at his chin, not so good with this sort of explanation. “They form from negative feelings in us humans; those feelings, it collects into some people, and it’s called Cursed Energy. You and your brothers have it.

“That doesn’t mean you’re full of negative feelings,” Toji rectified quickly at seeing confusion form on her face once more, waving a hand dismissively. “Honestly, no one really knows exactly how Cursed Energy works. Some people have it from generations of their family, passed down to them, and some people develop it suddenly despite their family members before them not having any at all. It’s born, though, directly from grief and anger; I know you have experience with that.”

Tsumiki frowned herself at that, looking cautiously at Toji’s bedside table, where two pictures of his late wives, one for each of them, sat and looked out onto the room. She looked very pointedly at one of them; it was a woman with short brown hair, light freckles across her nose, and dimples at her cheeks—her own mother, the picture having been taken a few days before her death.

“So… I have Cursed Energy because I’m angry that Mom died?” She questioned hesitantly, as if afraid Toji might tell her otherwise. Unfortunately, he may just have to.

“Possibly. Almost all humans have Cursed Energy because grief and anger are such common feelings,” he responded, poking at her chest. “You, however, had Cursed Energy already. Your mom did.”

Tsumiki’s eyes glittered a little at that, some of the cloudiness disappearing from her gaze; Toji was happy for it. “She did?” She breathed out, a tinge of excitement to her voice. “She had some just like me?”

“Just like you,” Toji chuckled a bit, ruffling her hair lightly. “And because she did, you were born with some, too; her… Her death helped you gain more, and now, you can actually see Cursed Spirits. Your Cursed Energy was about the same strength as the Curse’s that we saw.”

Tsumiki oohed softly, shuffling herself closer to Toji before she tilted her head at him.

“What does that mean? Could I have fought it or something?”

Toji couldn’t help it—he laughed, a little louder than he meant to, at that. “With training, definitely. I have no doubt something like that would’ve been pretty easy. But, since you have no experience, it’s likely that you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have let you, anyway.”

“Why?” She pouted again, holding her bunny close to her. “Could you have fought it?”

“Yes. Very easily. I trained, specifically, for that reason.”

Obviously not having expected such an answer, Tsumiki quieted down a bit, her irritated gaze falling into one of contemplation and then curiousity. Before she or Toji began to speak again, however, she reached out and pressed a small hand to his face, to his scarred lip—a throb of pain went through it for a moment, but he’s unsure if it’s because she’s touching an area that’s gone untouched for awhile or if it’s because of how hard she had pressed against it.

“Ow, kiddo, that hurt, you know.” He complains, grabbing her hand and moving it away a bit so as her fingers won’t catch his lip as he speaks. She’s undeterred, however, and tries to press against it again, though there’s less force, he can feel it in her wrist.

“Did a Curse give that scar to you?” She asked, her eyes alight with concern. “You said you got it when you were little. Did a Curse attack you then?”

“No,” he tells her, voice almost going harsh before he remembers to dial his tone down; she’s curious, and he won’t chastise her for it. “Well, yes, Curses attacked me when I was young, but a Curse didn’t give this to me.”

Gingerly, he let go of her hand and let it fall to his lap, pressing his own fingers against his lip hesitantly.

“No, a human gave me this scar.” He said lowly, closing his eyes briefly. “But I’d rather not talk about it. Maybe when you’re older.”

She looks upset, though he’s not sure if it’s because she wants to know or if it’s the principle of the fact that he was hurt by someone, but she lets him take a moment to collect himself before she speaks again.

“Can even Yuuji see them?” She asked, glancing into the hallway; she is curious because she is the only one besides Toji who knows how he truly came into the family, having been old enough to remember, at least a bit. She knows, just as well, that she does not share the same process of Cursed Energy with Megumi, as she is not Toji’s daughter by blood herself. “How do you know if he does?”

“He can, and it’s because I can sense Cursed Energy,” he explains, opening his eyes back up to her. “I can sense it in all three of you; Megumi has Cursed Energy because he’s my son, and I came from a Clan that passes Cursed Energy down the generations. You have Cursed Energy because you’re your mom’s daughter, and she came from a family that does the same. You can ask your grandma when you see her next weekend. Yuuji has Cursed Energy, but I can’t tell you why other than I can sense it.

“He and Megumi’s Cursed Energy is strong,” he muses, rubbing at his cheek. “Stronger than yours. They’ll be very strong when they get older. Megumi, I think, will even have what’s called an Inherited Technique; it’s a Technique passed through a family line.”

“Do you have strong Cursed Energy?” She asked of him, though she looks expectant. “I feel like you do—you’re very strong.”

Pushing down the pride he feels at being told that, he smiles a bit bitterly—not at all aimed at her—and shakes his head. “No, Miki; I have no Cursed Energy.”

“What?!” She sounds almost scandalized, like she’s been told that she’s the one with no Cursed Energy in a family full of people who do. “But—then how do you know so much?!”

“Because I came from a Clan that has a lot,” he tells her, his bitterness so thick in his voice that her lips twitch in question. “But they were bad people. I left them because they didn’t like me for having none. I got strong without it to prove them wrong, but they didn’t care at all, so they never recognized my strength. I’m strong despite having no Cursed Energy.

“I want, one day, for you to be like me, in that sense,” he adds on, his voice smoothing out now that he is not talking about himself and his past. He may not care for the Clan anymore, but he is still pained when remembering how they treated him. “If you want to, anyway. But your Cursed Energy, it has a time limit, in a sense—if you reach the age of six and don’t develop more than a set amount of Cursed Energy, it’s likely you won’t gain any more as you grow older. It sucks, but it’s okay, still; you can use Cursed Tools, which is just any weapon with Cursed Energy inside it, instead.”

“Do you do that?” She asks him curiously, shifting in his lap.

“Yes. You can’t defeat a Curse without Cursed Energy, so I use Cursed Tools to defeat the ones I fight. I’ve fought a few since we moved here to Minakami, but I fought way more in Tokyo, when we lived there. You were little, so you don’t remember, and the few times I’ve done it here, I’ve either been alone or made sure you kids didn’t see. I didn’t want to tell you three too early about this because I wanted you to live fairly normally.”

Tsumiki seemed to ponder that for a few moments, absentmindedly stroking her bunny’s dress, now.

“Then, since you’re strong but without Cursed Energy—”

“—physically is the word you’re lookin’ for, kiddo—”

“—yeah, that, so, if you’re strong physically, does that mean I can get strong like that too? One day? Would you train me like that?”

“It’s not a matter of would, Tsumiki,” he says seriously, pressing his palm to her cheek. He’s not going to lie to her on this sort of thing, but he also won’t force her into anything. “And it’s not for me to decide. If you want to train like that, and if you want to learn how to fight, then I’ll teach you. If you decide to stop, then I won’t train you anymore. It’s all what you want.”

He pokes at her chest as he says this, trying to emphasize the point he’s attempting to make here.

“I’m going to tell your brothers all this, too, when they see their first Curse—or when their Techniques, if they end up having one, develop, it all depends on which comes first. They’ll be the ones, too, to decide if they want to fight Curses, or if they want to just train so they can be trained. You don’t have to go out of your way to fight Curses, after all, I’m not gonna make you become a Sorcerer.”

“A Sorcerer? Like, with Magic? Isn’t that only in books?”

“That’s… Well, yes and no. It’s not Magic,” he says carefully, trying not to fumble the explanation, “but it’s called Sorcery. People who use Sorcery are called Sorcerers. They’re the ones who go out of their ways to get rid of Curses whenever they so much as pass by one. Sorcery itself, though, is the usage of Cursed Energy to fight Curses, though Curses also use Cursed Energy; they’re just called Curses because that’s what they are. ‘Evil’ Sorcerers are called Curse Users, though sometimes Sorcerers who have been kicked out of the Sorcery schools or have never gone get called that, too.”

“‘Sorcery schools?’”

“Yup; there’s one in Tokyo, and one in Kyoto. They’re the only two that exist. I’ve never been because, again, I have no Cursed Energy.

“Even though the minimum requirement to be called a Sorcerer is the ability to see Curses in your everyday life, since I have no Cursed Energy, I could never become one. You and your brothers, though, would be able to, and would be able to go to either one of the schools.”

“No, I don’t wanna.” Tsumiki said suddenly, hugging her bunny close as she pressed close to Toji, all but throwing herself into his chest.

“I don’t wanna go away. I don’t wanna be apart from you and Ji-Ji and Megs.”

“Then you won’t go.” He told her just as suddenly, pressing an arm around her. “I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do, Miki. I won’t force your brothers into anything, either. It’s all y’all’s choice, I promise you.”

She looked up from his chest to smile at him, the sight warming him down to the bone, but she still looked curious, a million questions seemingly in her head.

“How come you don’t have any Cursed Energy? How did Megs get any if you have none? Will I get a Technique? Where do you carry your Cursed Tools?”

“Hey, kiddo, one question at a time? Ever heard of that?” He teased her, grinning wolfishly at the pout she gives him and the way she swats at his arm, but he ultimately gives in to answering all four of the questions she had asked.

“I have something called a Heavenly Restriction; it’s rare for people to have, but my case is the only one that’s ever been recorded to make someone have no Cursed Energy. It does different things for different people, but ultimately, it’s never taken away Cursed Energy entirely from a person it affects. It’s why I have such great physical strength; I've been stronger than normal since birth. I just got even stronger on my own, too.

“Megumi, though, gained it from the Clan’s blood that runs through me; Cursed Energy can be passed down or not, though it’s rarer for it to not, and so it passed from me to him even though I have a Heavenly Restriction. That doesn’t get passed down, thank the gods.

“You, however, won’t get a Technique, whether Innate or Inherited. I don’t think the Fushiguro family has any Inherited Techniques, but an Innate Technique is one that develops between the ages of four and six, too, much like the probability of your Cursed Energy. If you reach the age of six without showing a Technique, it’s not like you can’t learn one, but you just won’t have one that’s yours. It’s easier, in my opinion, to just used Cursed Tools instead.

“My Cursed Tools, though, are kept in an Inventory Cursed Spirit. I keep it… Er, hidden away,” he says in lieu of saying I keep it in my stomach in a small little ball; he’s sure it’ll either gross her out, freak her out, or both, and he doesn’t want either of those things to happen, so he’ll leave that conversation for another day. “Its own Cursed Energy isn’t traceable because of where it’s hidden, so I can grab Tools out of it without worrying if Sor—Curses will notice that I am.”

He would leave the conversation of his previous occupation as the Sorcerer Killer for another day, as well. It’s best to only tell her so much right now. He’s sure that’s not a topic appropriate for a six-year-old to learn, anyway.

“So… Not all Curses are bad?” She asked, then, her eyes now completely clear of the cloudy look she’d had in the beginning of all of this. If anything, she was beginning to look a bit tired, and Toji was suddenly reminded of how late it had already been (at least for her).

He raised an eyebrow, however, in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She raised one right back at him, visibly suppressing a yawn. “You said a Curse holds your Cursed Tools, so that means it’s not bad, right? Or at least, not completely?”

Toji blinked down at her with a rather obvious unsure look, but really would his Curse be considered “evil” when all the thing does is wiggle around when not in use and out of his stomach? It had never attacked anyone, whenever he would fight; he took over that, the Curse not even needing to do anything but hold his Tools and Curses weaker than itself to surprise an enemy. Really, what part of that was “bad”?

“It’s not always going to be so black and white,” he decided on replying with, rubbing at the nape of his neck; he hoped she’d understand what he was saying. “But, in a way, yes, my Curse isn’t a bad one. It likes to sit like a cat and just mumble things whenever it’s not hiding and it’s not being used for anything. It doesn’t do much else when I don’t need it to give me my Tools.”

She smiled at his reply, satisfied with the answer. With an unsuppressed yawn, she tilted her head back down against his chest, not looking up at him anymore, and said,

“I wanna see it someday. And I don’t wanna fight Curses, not like Sorcerers do. But I wanna train; I wanna be strong like you. And then, maybe, if Megs and Ji-Ji decide to, we can all be strong.”

Glancing back up at him for a moment, she added, “Right?”

Toji hesitated once again, simply studying his young daughter as he contemplated an answer to her short question. Her eyes fluttered shut as she waited, and he moved to shift her around so that she was leaning against him a bit more comfortably—he doesn’t want her uncomfortable.

“That’s right, Miki,” he says softly, leaning down to kiss at her forehead; there was a time, not too long ago, that he wasn’t all that physically affectionate with the kids, but within the past two and a half years, Toji has gotten better at it.

“If you three want to, I’ll teach you to be strong. I’ll teach you all that I can.”

His daughter smiles against his chest, her bunny cradled up to hers.

“I can’t wait,” she whispers excitedly, tucking her head into his collar bone. He leans his cheek against it, not at all uncomfortable with the awkward angle.

Maybe you can’t, but I can, Toji thinks to himself with a bit of sorrow, even as he smiles into Tsumiki’s hair. I want you kids to be kids for a little bit longer—just a bit. You can grow up later.

He knows, however, that the choice is not his, in the end.

So, he says nothing more, and takes a look at the clock; almost midnight. He suppresses a groan; she’s going to be very tired in the morning. He should have cut the conversation down some.

“Dad?” She suddenly asks, and Toji nearly jumps, having thought her to be asleep from how exhausted she had appeared, but he stops himself in time and looks down at her, meeting her half-lidded gaze with inquisitiveness.

“You aren’t asleep yet?” He asks her rhetorically, tilting his head slightly. “What is it, kiddo?”

Tsumiki doesn’t answer him immediately, instead shifting a bit and looking back out to the hallway. Instead of answering verbally, she points with her bunny, and her follows her gaze and does jump—but only a little!—when he sees two little shadows in the doorway of his room, but then it registers to him: Those two little shadows are his sons.

“Gods above, Yuuji, Megumi, you scared the hell outta me,” he mumbles to himself, running a hand through his hair. He turns back to the doorway, though, as he moves his legs over the side of the bed, holding onto Tsumiki securely as he does.

“What’s the matter, boys? Another nightmare?” He asks them, having an inkling of a feeling that he’s right even before they nod silently; they’re hand-in-hand, with Megumi’s other one tightly gripping his shirt and Yuuji’s nightshirt’s sleeve stuck in his mouth. Before he can even motion them over, though, they’re running up to him, paces matching flawlessly, and press themselves into his legs, Megumi’s face—which is tear-filled, something Toji hadn’t noticed while he’d been in the hallway—making small wet spots on his pants.

“No nightmares, no more, go away~” Tsumiki recites her small lullaby immediately as the boys press into their father, waving her bunny around as if it’s a magic wand. Toji smiles at the display briefly; that was something she’d picked up from her mother doing for her, something he’d always felt a bit too silly doing (though he had, a few times). Her brothers look at her as appreciatively as they can, but with Megumi still silently crying and Yuuji’s sleeve not leaving his mouth, Toji decides to scoop them up with the arm he’s not holding Tsumiki with and onto his bed, shuffling around them to settle beside them and against his headboard once again. As he does, the boys scramble onto his lap, Tsumiki shuffling to make room for them even as she ends up on the bed beside him instead of actually on his lap, more than happy to let them take the spot now that she’s calm and not as frightened as she had been since returning from the store.

“Alright, kiddos, let’s do this again,” he says with a sigh, glancing to the clock; a couple minutes past midnight. Ah well; if the kids are too tired to wake up in the morning for school, he’ll just let them sleep in and stay home. No need to force them into it, and he knows that at least Megumi will be happy about it for sure. That’s reason enough, he feels, even if he knows he may be indulging them too much.

But, then again, when it comes to making your kids feel better, was there such a thing as indulging them too much?

(If there is, Toji doesn’t care about it one bit—his kids being happy is what matters more to him. One missed school day won’t hurt them, much, either.)

So, he lets his boys settle on his lap, one arm around them while the other is around his daughter, who has pressed herself directly into his side, and settles his emerald eyes on Megumi’s own emerald ones and Yuuji’s tawny-brown ones, and says, “Talk to Dad, boys; what’s on your mind?”