Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sequestered behind the high walls of a traditional compound, there is a clear pond in a quiet garden. A multitude of colorful carps swim aimlessly beneath the surface in a kaleidoscopic whirl. To the side, smooth pebbles line the winding pathway, framed by an artful arrangement of trees. Slender branches hang heavy, weighted down by cherry blossoms in full bloom. The garden encompasses the entire length of the courtyard for as far as the eye can see, blending perfectly against the refined aesthetic of the wooden walkways and sliding doors and all manner of other traditional structures in the compound.

Shiki listlessly stares out at the beautiful, unfamiliar garden. The little girl's legs are neatly folded in seiza, hands placed atop her knees.

… It's an uncomfortable position. Shiki has never sat so long in seiza before. She's also never stayed in a traditional building like this. She's not used to the soft texture of silk flowing gently over her skin, and she's not used to wearing kimonos. She's not used to being surrounded by strangers day in and day out.

(They say that they're family, and strictly speaking, they are. Probably. It still doesn't change the fact that Shiki doesn't know any of them–)

But all of these discomforts pale in comparison to the harsh, jagged red lines sprawling out before her eyes, fracturing the world she sees. Strange scarlet lines curl over the trees and flowers, over every rock and leaf and blade of grass no matter where she looks.

It's not supposed to be like this. The world isn't supposed to look like this–!

And Shiki isn't supposed to be here, either.

Because she's supposed to be dead.

… Except, somehow, she isn't. Somehow instead of being dead, Shiki is here, sitting on the fancy engawa of a sprawling compound she does not belong in, staring out at an elegant garden that's wholly unfamiliar, while around her the entire world is cracked and broken and bleeding lines of red.

Shiki leans forward and peers into the water. The koi pay her no mind, continuing to swim in a colorful, endless swirl. Looking past the formless mass of sharp red lines, the reflection of a subdued little girl gazes steadily back at her from the water's surface. There is a too-pale tinge to her skin, something almost sickly. She looks thin and frail. You've been bedridden for well over a year, Shiki-chan, the strangers of this too-fancy home had informed her.

She stares at the familiar-unfamiliar girl reflected in the water, and tries to reconcile it with herself. Snow-white hair falls over her shoulders and reaches down the length of her back, long and soft. It's much longer than it's supposed to be. But at least the color is right –unlike her eyes.

Shiki's eyes are brown. A warm, light hazel just like her mother's.

… Or at least, they used to be.

The girl staring back at her from the pond has dark blue eyes, which is… jarring, to say the least. And it's such a strange shade of blue, too, vivid in a way that's quite unnatural. The pupils are dark, pitch-black dark, but it also sort of looks like there's something else flickering inside there, too. Something else that gleams with a vaguely fractal, almost jewel-like quality in the light. Prismatic. Momentary and fleeting, in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it sort of way.

A sharp ripple interrupts her observation; the thoughtless flick of a playful koi's tail. Shiki blinks as the image of the girl in the water is promptly shattered into a thousand pieces.

Footsteps sound behind her on the wooden flooring of the engawa. The little girl deliberately does not turn around. Instead, she continues staring blankly at the rippling waves.

"There you are, Shiki-chan." The smooth, cultured voice that calls her is warm in a way that's not warm at all. She still recalls how Ima-san had loomed beside her hospital bed, peering down at her with a satisfied light of triumph in those cold, cold eyes. I will take custody of her from here, Tachikawa-sensei. Thank you for your hard work. The Gojo Clan will make sure you are properly compensated.

In the rippling surface of the pond, the silhouette of a tall woman appears over the young girl. She, too, is wearing silken robes, but unlike Shiki who only feels weird and awkward in expensive silk, on her it looks perfectly natural instead.

Unnatural red lines shift across Ima-san's face as she opens her mouth and speaks again. "You should know better than to run off by yourself like this without informing the caretakers assigned to you, Shiki-chan. What if you set back your own recovery?"

Her words are of concern. The tone is pitched into something reprimanding, but not quite overbearing. But the look in her eyes… does not match her voice. There is absolutely no worry in Ima-san's eyes –and why would there be?

There's absolutely nowhere for Shiki to run. Shiki fell asleep in the hospital and when she woke up again, she found herself here, wherever 'here' is. No one has directly said anything to her about it, but Shiki isn't stupid: She's acutely aware that she's been locked inside an unfamiliar, traditional home –the sort of home that's the elaborate kind she's only ever glimpsed on TVs before. Ima-san wants something from her. Shiki won't be going anywhere before Ima-san gets what she wants.

… She should probably be a little more concerned about the fact that she's essentially been kidnapped straight out of a year-long coma by a relative she barely remembers. But somehow, Shiki can't really find it in herself to care about anything that's happening to her, because–

I'm supposed to be dead. Dead, just like Mom and Dad.

Why aren't I dead?

"Come along now, Shiki-chan," Ima-san finally says, after a quiet lull. "The delegation from the main family has arrived. We must make you presentable, for your introduction to them."

Red lines flicker sharply across Shiki's field of vision as she turns. Her fingers twitch upon her lap, driven by a ghostly impulse to reach out and touch, yet simultaneously repulsed by an instinctive fear to recoil and run.

… But there's nowhere to run.

"Yes, Ima-san," the white-haired girl says tonelessly, and slowly unfurls from her seated position on the engawa to rise to her feet. Her legs are numb from seiza. It means nothing, in the end.

Shiki wonders if this imminent meeting is the reason why Ima-san spirited her away from the hospital. She has only ever met Ima-san once before in the past, when Dad had invited her over to their home. Shiki remembers the way that Ima-san had looked at her then. Dark eyes had initially been appraising and speculative at first, before shadowing over with disappointment.

Your daughter has certainly inherited the Gojo looks, but none of the ability. What a pity. But I suppose it's my fault for thinking that I could ever expect anything of you, Arata.

The words Ima-san had directed towards her father that day had been cold, biting. But from the way her father turned and promptly hugged the young girl in relief afterwards, in wake of the woman's departure –perhaps it was not such a bad thing, Ima-san's scornful ire and easy dismissal. But ire and dismissal were nowhere in sight, when Shiki woke up in the hospital and found Ima-san standing by her bedside. Instead, there had been an underscore of something that was almost… satisfaction, in Ima-san's bearings as she looked at Shiki.

Nothing has changed about Shiki, though. Nothing, save for the fact that she's supposed to be dead –and her eyes.

… The world is different from what she remembers. It probably has something to do with why her eyes have suddenly changed color. Wherever Shiki turns and looks now, there are jagged red lines crawling across the surface of everything in sight. It's distracting, and wrong. Shiki knows that there's not supposed to be strange red lines everywhere in the world, knows that these lines aren't supposed to be there –except that's not exactly true, is it?

The white-haired girl looks upon these lines and instantly understands. At the core, they're only natural. Inevitable.

… It shouldn't make any sense to her, except it does, maddeningly enough.

Shiki hates it.

.

.

"It's not the Six Eyes."

Judging, calculative gazes weigh down on her oppressively in the fine room. There is a tasteful arrangement of flowers to the side, one that Shiki has neither the knowledge nor the inclination to appreciate. With Ima-san's hand heavy on her shoulder, the white-haired young girl can do nothing but sit quietly in her seat, still as a doll, as new strangers dressed in formal robes slowly circle around her.

… She feels like an object like this, not a person. It's very unpleasant. Shiki doesn't like it.

Distractedly, her eyes begin tracing the edge of the jagged red lines bifurcating the strangers surrounding her in her distraction. Beginning and end. Open and close. Inexorable, inevitable.

She swiftly forces her gaze to the ground, once she realizes what she's doing. There's a spiderweb of red lines sprawled across the wooden floorboards as well.

(Instinctively, Shiki knows better than to reach out and touch them. Her fingertips tingle, and she slowly curls her hands into fists inside her sleeves.)

"It's not the Six Eyes," the elderly man in long silken robes repeats, thoughtful. A gnarled hand comes up to rub thoughtfully at the bottom of his chin. "I can see why that hospital director thought to report to us immediately, though. There are certain similarities, looking at it like this. And the girl does happen to be born of our bloodline, despite only being the daughter of a lower branch family."

Ima-san's hand tightens on Shiki's shoulder, just for a moment.

"Indeed, Daisaku-sama," another man chimes in from the side with a nod. He, too, is dressed in long, flowing robes, stately and austere. "Moreover, the Six Eyes only ever appears once in a generation, and only presents itself in one member of the clan at any given time. Right now, Satoru-kun bears both the Six Eyes and Limitless. So it's currently impossible for another to possess the Six Eyes as well."

"And therein lies the crux of this issue," the wizened elder muses. "We've established that it's certainly not the Six Eyes, but there's no doubt that it's something."

"Then, what is it?"

A contemplative silence falls over the room.

"Ima," the elder suddenly demands. "This child is of your family, is she not?"

"Yes, Daisaku-sama," Ima-san dips her head subserviently, and releases Shiki's shoulder. Her hands fold across her front as she bows respectfully, demure and obedient to the aged man before her. "Shiki-chan is the daughter of my late brother, Arata. He married a half-foreign wife, who was a regular civilian. She did not possess any technique, nor the ability to see curses. However, her younger brother is training to become a sorcerer; the boy currently attends the school in Tokyo."

… Kento-ojichan? Shiki stirs, her attention drawn by the mention of her family. Kento-ojichan is still alive…?

"Ima-san–" she starts, but is cut off immediately when the woman shakes her shoulder with a warning look. Something cold and heavy coalesces inside Shiki's chest at this.

"So, it's possible that she's inherited something from her mother's side as well, then," Daisaku-sama remarks, overlooking the small interlude entirely. "Arata… I confess, that name is unfamiliar to me. What technique did he possess?"

"My brother was not fortunate enough to be born with any cursed technique, Daisaku-sama," Ima-san responds. "However, he did possess the sight. He was also capable of some degree of minor barrier work."

"… Hold on. Gojo Arata?" another man suddenly breaks in. "I remember him. Isn't he the one who was barely able to see low-level curses? Promptly moved out after he got married, or something like that?"

Scattered murmurings break out through the room at this revelation. Beside her, Ima-san tenses. But she doesn't say anything to correct them, and that's wrong. It's not supposed to be Gojo–

"My dad is Nanami Arata," Shiki says. But nobody is listening to her. There is a light twinge of pain in her shoulder; Ima-san's nails digging deep through the silken cloth.

"Tch, someone who can barely see the most elementary of curses is an embarrassment to the Gojo name," someone else snorts rudely. The speaker is a tall man with light brown hair, long red tassels hanging from the decorative sword at his side.

"Isao-san," another man chides sharply, lips pulled into a tight frown. "It is unbecoming to speak ill of the dead. And in front of the man's daughter, no less!"

'Isao-san' waves a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know I only speak the truth. Besides, didn't Ima just admit that the girl's mother is basically useless, too? … I bet we're all just overreacting over her eyes. With parents like that, can you really expect the daughter to inherit any sort of powerful technique?"

The words are scornful, dismissive. Shiki doesn't follow the conversation entirely, but she understands that these words are meant to be unkind.

"You overstep yourself, Isao," the other man rears back with a vaguely offended air. "Even if Arata was… lacking, in terms of potential, he still possessed the blood. The Gojo Clan traces its proud lineage back to Sugawara no Michizane; how can you arbitrarily just–"

"Come now, Kansuke-san," Isao-san interrupts with a lazy drawl. "You are aware that Ima's branch of the family here has produced precisely zero sorcerers of any note in the last five generations, yes?"

Shiki notes the way that Ima-san quietly tucks her hands into the voluminous sleeves of her kimono beside her, fingers trembling. The woman stares at the ground in front of her and does not look up, even as the men continue bickering above her.

"According to the reports that were compiled, this girl–" Isao-san jabs a finger at Shiki carelessly "–was born exactly the same as her parents. No cursed technique whatsoever. Unable to even see curses. You honestly expect me to believe that a child like this really awakened some heretofore unseen variant of the Six Eyes after being comatose for a year?"

A few strands of light chestnut hair slips across Kansuke-san's face, and the man hastily reaches up to brush it aside, readjusting his glasses as he does so. "… Perhaps it may be unlikely, but you do realize that there are documented cases of even regular civilians awakening the ability to see curses after near-death encounters."

"Awakening the sight, yes," the other man admits freely, splaying his hands wide. "But awakening a cursed technique? Impossible. Cursed techniques are something that a person is born with, engraved upon their flesh and embedded in their blood. No one just spontaneously develops a technique out of nowhere, that's not how it works."

Murmurs of assent ripple throughout the room. Kansuke-san falters, but does not look entirely convinced by his peer's argument.

"Then, how do you explain this?" he gestures at Shiki, frustrated. "Look at her, Isao. Look at those eyes, and tell me that's not an ocular curse."

"… Could be an illusion," Isao-san says after a slight pause. "Might be the branch family's last-ditch effort to worm their way back into the clan's graces."

"It is not! I swear!" Finally, Ima-san can no longer keep her silence. She falls to her knees beside Shiki, pressing her forehead to the ground before the room at large. "I… we would not dare to deceive the clan, not when it comes to such a matter of great import as this. I implore you, our family has never–"

"Raise your head, Ima," another voice cuts across the room. A wizened old man coughs into his hand for a brief moment, eyes flickering to rest upon the outspoken young man who has his head held high. "Isao, you make a heavy accusation. Do you truly believe that this is an illusion, of all things?"

"Yes," the man responds promptly. To the side, Ima-san trembles, face pale. "The only other plausible explanation is that the girl truly developed a new ocular curse from the Six Eyes, something that's absolutely unprecedented in the clan's history. I believe I've made my feelings on that clear."

"… I suppose you have." The elder turns away, and lets his gaze rest upon Shiki. Heavy, judging. "Child. Tell me, what do you see with those eyes?"

Lines. Red lines, everywhere and wherever she looks. But Shiki chooses to say nothing of this, instead remaining silent.

"Answer Hirofumi-sama, Shiki-chan," Ima-san urges. The woman reaches out with a desperate hand once more, seizing Shiki by the wrist and forcing her to look upwards. A long red gash splits Ima-san's face in two, and the girl does her best not to stare at the twist of phantom lines that only she can see. "Answer him!"

"That's enough, Ima," Kansuke-san takes an abortive step forward, as if to pull the increasingly-distressed woman off of the little girl, yet hesitating. "You're hurting her. Release the child!"

"Answer him!"

"That's quite enough, Ima," Isao-san drawls. Unlike Kansuke-san, he clearly has no compunctions about striding over and bodily dragging Ima-san off of Shiki. The woman stumbles back, a wild light in her eyes. Shiki watches her impassively. "… Well, I guess that's that, then. Seems like we've all been worked up over nothing, huh?"

"It's too soon to draw that conclusion, Isao–"

"Geez, still harping on about it, Kansuke-san?" Isao rolls his eyes, then turns back towards Shiki. One hand comes up to grasp at the gilded hilt of the ceremonial sword at his hip. "Let me prove to you that it's fake once and for all, then."

In a sharp hiss of steel, the man draws his blade and levels it directly at Shiki, sword-point resting at her forehead.

"I am Gojo Isao, twenty-seventh inheritor of the Mirror Blade. By my command, let impurities be cleansed, and all truths be revealed," he declares. There is an underscore of something other echoing in his intonation, reverberating with a certain weight in the air.

Regardless, nothing happens. Isao-san frowns.

"Let impurities be cleansed, and all truths be revealed!" he repeats.

… Still nothing.

Shiki's world remains covered in strange red lines, except there's also a scowl stretched over Isao-san's face now. Quiet whispers start up among the others gathered in the room at this complete lack of any reaction whatsoever. A gleam of hope has returned to Ima-san's eyes, who stares at Shiki unblinkingly in anticipation.

"… What is this?" Isao-san breathes incredulously. The young girl looks up at him placidly, doing her level best to ignore the sword pointed between her eyes.

"I told you it was too soon to be jumping to conclusions, Isao-san," Kansuke-san's voice sounds from the side, just a touch smug. Isao-san tosses a quick glance over his shoulder in annoyance, then refocuses his attention on Shiki again. His scowl deepens.

"We'll see about that," he says, as he lifts the blade from the little girl's forehead. Then, without a hint of hesitation, he proceeds to drive it into the ground before her.

Almost immediately, Shiki can feel a distinct pressure settle upon her shoulders, heavy and smothering. Suffocating. The crushing weight builds and builds, heavier and heavier and heavier still. Shiki sways a little from where she's sitting on folded knees. Falters, and very nearly collapses to the ground just like Ima-san beside her.

"Isao! What are you doing?!"

"Stay out of this, Kansuke. The Mirror Blade never fails to unravel deception," the man's eyes narrow. "Thrice I command you: Let all truths be revealed!"

"Isao you–"

The pressure upon her increases again. Shiki can't breathe anymore, as all the air is choked from her lungs. To her right, Ima-san has gone still and unmoving, but… she's still alive. For now.

Shiki eyes the flickering red lines crisscrossing Ima-san's body. The gleaming lines continue growing and multiplying with every passing second, and she idly wonders how long that will last, before fading entirely. While Shiki certainly holds no fondness for Ima-san, who'd basically kidnapped her from the hospital… that doesn't mean she wants to see the woman die, either.

So.

Shiki slowly looks up and glances around the room. Aside from the token protests that Kansuke-san had offered at the start, no one seems even remotely inclined to step forward and do anything about this situation.

Shiki sighs.

Then, resigned, she reaches out towards the cracked red lines on Isao-san's sword.

… It's not so hard. Thin, childish fingers fumble clumsily against the cool surface of the blade for a moment, but her nails sink in easily to the scarlet lines. Almost as if it were cotton, and not metal beneath her fingertips. But that makes sense, because in this moment Shiki isn't interacting with mundane steel at all, as she traces the red lines.

There. Done.

Immediately, the strange pressure disappears from her body. Shiki relaxes as she can breathe properly again, and sucks in a sweet lungful of fresh air. Ima-san stirs lightly beside her, but remains insensate, for the most part. The writhing mass of red lines on the woman's body begins receding to a normal level again.

And in front of them, the ceremonial blade shatters.

Startled exclamations sweep across the room. Kansuke-san's jaw drops wide open, and Isao-san stares numbly at her with wide eyes.

"You… you broke the Mirror Blade." He stares at Shiki, like he's seeing her for the first time. Which might be true. "… What the hell was that, girl? How dare you?!"

Shiki does not respond. From the other side of the room, elderly Hirofumi-sama begins chuckling.

"How fortuitous," the old man rasps delightedly. "Breaking a cursed heirloom so easily, just like that? … It seems that the clan has truly gained an interesting pair of cursed eyes. Congratulations, Ima."

Unconscious as she is, it's obvious that Ima-san cannot hear him, nor can she respond. But that does not affect his mood at all, and the old man rises from his seat sedately.

"Gojo Shiki will remain with Ima for now," he announces to the room at large. "We will report and discuss matters with Hisayasu-sama, regarding her future lessons and training."

… That's not her name. That's not her name! She's not 'Gojo,' she's–

Shiki doesn't want to be here. She wants her parents! She wants to go home. She wants to get out of this stifling place with too many strangers, all of whom want something from her, but–

But her parents are dead.

Her home is gone.

… Ima-san and the others will not let her go. Shiki might not entirely understand everything that's going on, but she knows that it's because of her eyes. They want her because of her eyes. Because of these cursed eyes that see red lines everywhere, everywhere, everywhere–

If that's the case, then if she just doesn't have these eyes…

The young girl slowly raises her hands to her face and–

.

.

"So you're my new little cousin who's got all the elders worked up, huh?"

Shiki tilts her head towards the unfamiliar voice, even though she cannot see who it is. The world is dark. That's because there's currently a layer of thick gauze bandaged over her head like a blindfold –the direct result of her failed attempt to put out her own eyes.

… In hindsight, maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to try and gouge out her own eyes in a room full of people who wanted her precisely because of her eyes. Shiki is back in a hospital bed again, except now there's always someone watching her. Probably making sure there wouldn't be a repeat of the incident that had brought her back here in the first place.

"Hmm, not very talkative, are we?" the unfamiliar voice continues, light and airy. "Or are you just outright ignoring me? Hellooo?"

"Please excuse my niece's behavior, Satoru-sama," Ima-san's voice sounds from another corner of the hospital room. "She's still recovering from her surgery, and has yet to learn anything of proper etiquette."

"Right, I honestly couldn't care less about that."

"Ah," Ima-san makes a startled noise. Flustered, almost. "T-That's… that's far too kind of you, Satoru-sama."

For someone addressed as '-sama,' the young man seems to be surprisingly… casual. Easygoing. Flippant, almost? No, that's a bit rude to think of someone that she's just met. "Mhm. And as riveting as this is, you're not the one I'm here for, Ima-san."

"I understand," the woman says. Shiki can already imagine the bow that would accompany those words. "But my niece has been advised by Tachikawa-sensei to rest. She's still weak from her coma, and the surgery–"

"I'll be quick," the boy cuts Ima-san off. There's the sound of a few shuffling steps, and when he speaks again, he sounds much, much closer. Judging by the sound, it's clear that he's standing right by her bedside. "… So. Just making sure I have this right, you are Nanami Shiki, yeah?"

Shiki is so startled that she nearly falls out of her bed.

In all this time –ever since she'd woken up in the hospital, ever since she'd been whisked away to that gilded cage by Ima-san– this is the first time that anyone has gotten her name right!

Luckily, a pair of warm hands easily catch her before she can truly fall. Ima-san's shout of alarm is still ringing in her ears.

"Great! So it is you, after all," her unfamiliar visitor cheers. "Long story short: Nanami-kun just recently got the news at school that you woke up, except, well, obviously you were nowhere to be found. Turns out that my clan was involved in it, so ta-da! Here I am."

… Nanami-kun?

Oh.

"You know Kento-ojichan?" Shiki tentatively brightens, for perhaps the first time ever since she'd woken up in the hospital knowing that her parents were dead and she was not. The boy laughs.

"Yup! I'm his upperclassman," he confirms breezily. "Gotta say, I didn't expect the bit about your eyes. I'm pretty sure Nanami said you were like your parents? … Well, I guess it makes sense, though. The clan wouldn't have tried to snatch you away like this otherwise."

Ima-san makes a sound not unlike a dying teapot. "Satoru-sama! I–"

"Be quiet," he says, perfectly pleasant, and Ima-san falls silent in a heartbeat. Shiki instantly understands. 'Satoru-sama' is like Daisaku-sama and Hirofumi-sama in the hierarchy of the Gojo Clan, even though he's a lot nicer than them. "So, Shiki-chan. How do you feel about sneaking out to visit Nanami-kun?"

"Yes!" Shiki straightens blindly, belatedly becoming aware that he's already half-carrying her in his arms, from when she'd almost fallen off the bed earlier. Well. Shiki certainly isn't going to fight him, especially not if he's taking her to see Kento-ojichan! There's something in Shiki that aches for her family. The only family she has left, and has been barred from seeing by Ima-san and the others. "Please, Satoru-sama."

"Knock off the '-sama,'" the boy clicks his tongue. "Technically we're cousins, so… hm. You can call me onii-chan!"

"Satoru-oniichan," Shiki parrots back obediently. She gets a headpat and slight hair-ruffle for it.

"Satoru-sama, the clan has ordered that–"

"I don't care what Old Hirofumi and the other elders decided on," he says carelessly. "If you're just worried about her eyes, don't be. I'll take her to see Shoko while I'm at school. That should be enough for him and whoever else also keeping tabs on the hospital."

"… As you wish, Satoru-sama," Ima-san responds helplessly.

"Great! We'll be off, then."

Chapter Text

“… Satoru, what are you carrying over your shoulder?”

“Oh, hey, Suguru!” Satoru-sama –Satoru-oniichan?– responds lightly. Shiki fumbles a little, from where a bony shoulder digs into her stomach as the young man turns suddenly. Being carried around like this is rather disorienting, especially given that she currently cannot see anything at all. “Guess what, I found Nanami’s missing little niece!”

A sudden whirl of movement, and Shiki gets the distinct feeling that she’s being proudly held out, almost like some misbehaving pet. She’s starting to get the impression that Satoru-oniichan doesn’t really know how to deal with children.

The new arrival makes a distinctly alarmed sound in their throat. “That’s a kid? What the hell are you –wait, no, that’s not how you hold a child! For goodness’ sake, Satoru–”

Unfamiliar hands settle roughly over her shoulders, and make to take her from Satoru-oniichan’s arms. Shiki startles with a jolt, twisting and shrinking back, reaching out for what’s at least still familiar, in this world of darkness.

“Ha! Seems like she likes me better than you,” Satoru-oniichan’s voice above her head is smug. Shiki can barely hear him over the thump-thump-thump of her rapid heartbeat, and slowly takes in a soft, shuddering breath. Calm. She has to remain calm. Ima-san might not be watching over her every movement anymore, but Shiki still needs to–

“Hey,” the new voice says. Suguru, Satoru-oniichan had called him. There’s less frustration in his voice now, approaching something almost gentle instead. “Hey, please don’t panic. I’m sorry for scaring you, it’s just Satoru I was upset with.”

“… It’s alright,” Shiki responds, after a brief pause. She reflexively turns towards the general direction of this new voice, despite not being able to see anything. Living in total darkness is hard, but –but she thinks that she’d still take this, over the endless trail of macabre red lines sprawling over anything and everything. “I’m… sorry for overreacting. But, I’d like to stay with Satoru-oniichan. Please.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine,” Suguru-san says placatingly. Then, “Satoru-oniichan?”

Shiki is jostled around again as Satoru-oniichan shrugs. “What? Turns out that we’re distant cousins, it works. I don’t see why anyone would complain about it.”

“I think Nanami-kun might have a few complaints,” the other young man responds dryly. “On that note, did you want to take her to see Shoko first? She doesn’t look so well. Is there something wrong with her eyes…?”

“Shoko’s on the other side of campus, isn’t she? I thought I’d take Shiki here to Nanami first before swinging by.”

Kento-ojichan. Anticipation flutters in her chest; Shiki misses her family–

“Let me rephrase that: You should definitely take her to see Shoko first,” Suguru-san says flatly. Both the little girl and her cousin make identical sounds of protest, but he easily steamrollers over them both. “Unless you want Nanami to see his niece like this?”

… For some reason, Shiki suddenly has the impression that Satoru-oniichan is squinting at her right now. “Uh… so what’s wrong with how she looks?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong with how she looks?’” his friend sounds incredulous. “Satoru, the kid’s thin as a stick and there’s bandages wrapped around her head. She looks like you kidnapped her straight out of a hospital bed or something!”

An awkward, telling silence ensues.

“… Are you kidding me,” Suguru-san deadpans, in a soulless tone of voice that’s completely and utterly flat. “Satoru, tell me you didn’t kidnap a kid straight out of the hospital.”

Satoru-oniichan only laughs in response, a careless sound. Shiki quickly decides to speak up in her cousin’s defense before things can escalate. “I came with him willingly! So, there was no kidnapping involved… this time around…?”

The little girl pauses. Does Ima-san spiriting her away from the hospital the first time around count as kidnapping? Shiki certainly hadn’t gotten any say in it, hadn’t expected to fall asleep in her hospital bed and wake up somewhere else entirely. But for all her unfamiliarity she is related to Ima-san, so does that mean–

There’s a light smack, the sound of palm meeting forehead. “… And now I’m even more concerned. Okay, look, just… take her to see Shoko first, Satoru. Trust me on this.”

“Yeah, sure,” Satoru-oniichan still doesn’t sound like he understands what Suguru-san is getting at, but he acquiesces easily enough. As for Shiki… Shiki certainly still wants to see Kento-ojichan as soon as possible, but…

But, Suguru-san might have a point. She’s effectively blind right now so she hasn’t looked at a mirror in days, but he’s probably not wrong that Shiki is looking a little… bedraggled, at the moment. If she were to show up in front of Kento-ojichan looking like that, then Kento-ojichan might be sad, right? He might be sad. And Shiki doesn’t want Kento-ojichan to be sad, especially not on her behalf.

(After all, Shiki is still alive, isn’t she? … Unlike her parents.)

“C’mon, let’s get going.”

For all that Satoru-oniichan had offhandedly mentioned ‘Shoko’ being on the other side of the school campus, it actually doesn’t take them very long to find her, in the end. Shiki doesn’t keep track of the twists and turns they take very well, but soon enough there is a young woman’s voice sounding directly in front of her, accompanied by the faint scent of tobacco smoke.

“Is that a kid? Where did you kidnap her from?”

Satoru-oniichan makes a vaguely offended sort of sound in his throat while Suguru-san chuckles next to him. “Why do both of you immediately assume that I kidnapped her?!”

“Probably because no one in their right mind would trust you around a child,” Shoko-san responds wryly, a tired edge to her voice. Then, in a softer tone that’s clearly directed towards Shiki, “Hold still for a moment, okay? I’ll need to touch you in order to heal you.”

Shoko-san’s fingers are cold, and accompanied by a surge of… something. It’s a little hard to describe. Almost like a cold current that sinks beneath her skin, reaching down to her bones. It’s the sort of chill that’s not exactly cold, like winter snow or biting hoarfrost, but instead more like… more like what one would associate with cool water that’s freshly-drawn from a deep well, instead. It’s not sharp, not stinging. Just… cleansing, in a sense.

The dull pain behind her eyes subsides. Her head doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

“There, done,” the young woman says. “Feeling any better?”

“… Yes. Thank you.”

Shiki opens her eyes.

… Then promptly screws them shut again, upon the harsh, sudden influx of light.

“Take it easy, there’s no rush,” Shoko-san sounds mildly amused by Shiki’s reaction. “Does everything look alright?”

Slowly, the little girl opens her eyes again, blinking rapidly several times as her blurry vision readjusts to the light after days of total darkness. “… No.”

“No?” A startled sound, mixed with concern. The young woman’s hands reach for Shiki again, gently cradling her temples as that strange energy envelops her again. “… Odd, it doesn’t look like there are any lingering issues. Hmm. Can you tell me what’s feeling wrong for you?”

“The lines,” the little girl frowns, disappointed. “The lines are still there.”

Shoko-san pauses. “Sorry, the what?”

“The lines,” Shiki repeats. “The red lines are still there, wherever I look.”

Behind her, there is a sharp, startled intake of breath. Suguru-san? “Shoko, her eyes. Satoru, did you–?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Satoru-oniichan says, leaning down in front of her –and for the first time, Shiki sees her self-proclaimed cousin with her eyes.

He’s tall, even taller than she remembers Kento-ojichan being. His hair is white. The exact same shade of snow-white as Shiki’s own. Red lines flicker over her cousin’s body, but they are sparse and few in number. Far, far fewer than anyone she’s seen, ever since waking up to a world that didn’t make sense anymore. But, more than any of this–

The young man fiddles with the sunglasses on his face, one hand reaching up and hooking around the frame as he lowers the black shades, and Shiki finds herself looking up into a pair of crystalline blue eyes.

Oh.

“You’re like me,” she breathes, realization dawning. Blue eyes. Cursed blue eyes.

… Granted, Satoru-oniichan’s eyes aren’t precisely identical to Shiki’s eyes, not really. Whereas hers are dark and abyssal, his are light and shot through with stardust. It’s patently obvious that their eyes are very much different from each other, but Shiki cannot help the inexplicable burst of kinship that washes over her in this moment all the same. Because she can tell that there’s something about his eyes that’s still so, so similar to hers–

Similar, yet fundamentally different.

“Mm… well, sort of,” Satoru-oniichan responds with a slightly distracted air. He peers back down at her, discerning, and Shiki suddenly feels seen on some level that she understands to be far beyond her comprehension. “Those eyes of yours… hmm, it certainly doesn’t seem like you’re observing the flow of cursed energy…”

The young girl blinks owlishly. “Cursed energy?”

“… Right, I almost forgot that you’re from a normal background.”

“Wait, really?” To the side, brown-haired Shoko-san sounds vaguely startled. “Are you saying that she’s not from your clan? … Huh. I almost thought she was your little sister or something, she certainly looks the part.”

“Nah, Shiki here is Nanami-kun’s niece,” the white-haired teen waves his hand dismissively.

“Ah, so she’s the kid who went missing from the hospital?”

“Got it in one!” Satoru-oniichan gives his friend a cheerful thumbs-up.

“Have some tact,” Suguru-san grumbles. He brushes a lock of dark bangs away from his face, then turns towards Shiki. The little girl is sitting perfectly still atop the examination table she’d been set down on, hands folded over her lap. “Cursed energy is… well, it’s a form of energy born from negative emotions. It’s used to perform what we call ‘cursed techniques,’ which allows us to more effectively exorcise cursed spirits.”

Shiki tilts her head. Some of what he’s saying sounds vaguely familiar from what she’s overheard Ima-san and the others saying recently, but it’s still so very confusing. Especially because–

“I don’t have a cursed technique,” she informs him, straightforward and matter-of-fact.

Shiki still remembers the first time she’d met Ima-san. The woman hadn’t bothered hiding her disappointment upon ascertaining that there was absolutely nothing special about Shiki –save her hair color, if anything had to be said about the girl at all.

… But Ima-san’s attitude towards her was completely different now, ever since… ever since the day Shiki woke up in the hospital. After Shiki’s eyes changed, and her entire world became covered in red lines of death.

Is… is this what they’d meant by ‘cursed energy?’ ‘Cursed techniques?’

So then, is Shiki… cursed?

Is that why her parents–

Satoru-oniichan straightens and readjusts his sunglasses so that they’re covering his eyes again. “You do have a cursed technique, actually. Cursed technique, cursed eyes.”

Shiki does not stiffen from this revelation, from her cousin’s confirmation. She does not allow her hands to curl into fists. Ima-san’s cold satisfaction flashes across the forefront of her mind, and Shiki just feels… numb.

Unbidden, she cannot help but recall the words that her father had once spoken to her. Don’t worry, Shiki. No matter what my sister says, it’s a good thing that you don’t have a cursed technique, or anything of the sort. Her mother had been much the same.

But neither of her parents were here anymore. Neither of them were still alive. And Shiki… Shiki…

“… Can I see Kento-ojichan now?” she asks quietly. It comes as a relief when the three agree to her request easily enough, instead of dwelling any further on Shiki’s cursed eyes.

Satoru-oniichan briefly gets an earful from Suguru-san for ‘carrying children around like a sack of potatoes.’ As the agitated conversation goes on above her, Shiki’s gaze unconsciously gravitates towards the red lines again. The lines that are everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Across the ceiling, over the floorboards. Trailing across every object in her line of sight. Every person. There is a macabre line running down the side of Satoru-oniichan’s neck, disappearing beneath his collar. Another line is slashed prominently over Suguru-san’s face, right across his forehead.

Beginning and end. Open and close.

Inexorable. Inevitable.

(Death.)

The little girl turns and promptly buries her face in the side of her cousin’s jacket, screwing shut her eyes in a vain attempt to block everything out of her mind.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get you to Nanami-kun, yeah?”

Shiki nods mutely, suddenly unable to bring herself to say any words.

.

.

He looks different.

Kento-ojichan, that is. He looks… different. Older. Taller, too. Not to the extent of being unrecognizable, but just… different. He’s sitting in a mostly-empty classroom with only one other student in the desk beside him, when Satoru-oniichan cheerfully slams open the door.

“Nanami, look at what I found!”

“Gojo. What are you–” The tired, long-suffering edge to Kento-ojichan’s voice vanishes instantly when he looks up and his gaze lands on her. Brown eyes widen as he promptly shoots to his feet, chair clattering forgotten behind him. “Shiki?”

“… Kento-ojichan,” Shiki greets quietly. She doesn’t cry, but there’s definitely a few watery blinks as she drinks in the sight of her young uncle. He’s alive. Kento-ojichan is still alive. “I… I missed you.”

Within seconds, Kento-ojichan has crossed the classroom and seized her in a tight hug. But it takes Shiki a few moments to respond in kind, for her fingers to carefully find purchase in the sleek fabric of his uniform, determinedly avoiding the red lines running down the length of his back.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” her newfound cousin says loudly from somewhere behind them.

“Satoru!” Suguru-san hisses sharply.

“What? I’m the one who found her!” Satoru-oniichan mutters petulantly. “Don’t I deserve a little more appreciation here? Or at least a ‘thank you,’ maybe?”

The other boy clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “It’s the least you could’ve done, considering it was your clan that kidnapped her in the first place!”

“… But is it really kidnapping if we’re the ones who legally have custody of her?” Satoru-oniichan muses aloud, deliberately obtuse. He grins sharply when his friend throws him a withering look for the attitude. “Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, Suguru.”

“You’re impossible,” the dark-haired boy informs him flatly, then turns towards Kento-ojichan. “Feel free to ignore him if you want, Nanami-kun.”

“No, I…” Kento-ojichan clears his throat, straightening. Shiki lingers by her uncle’s side, not ready to part from him quite just yet. If the way that his fingers gently curl over her own is any indication of things, he feels similarly in this moment as well. “… Thank you for finding her, Gojo-san.”

“And you’re very welcome!” The white-haired teen chirps. “Oh, you should thank Shoko too, since she took a look at Shiki with her reversed cursed technique. Don’t thank Suguru, though, he didn’t do anything–”

“Excuse me? Who was the one that dug up those records–”

“Thank you,” Kento-ojichan hurriedly breaks in. Then, more sincerely, “Thank you. I… I’m grateful for all of your efforts as well. Ieiri, Geto.”

Ieiri-san and Geto-san. Shiki commits the names to memory, echoing her uncle in voicing her own thanks as well.

“So you’re Nanami’s niece?” A new voice sounds from behind her, cheery and bright. The speaker is a smiling, dark-haired boy –the other student who’d been inside the classroom with Kento-ojichan when they came in. “Nice to meet you! It’s good to see that you’re okay, Nanami’s been really worried.”

“Haibara.”

“Eh? Did I say anything I wasn’t supposed to, Nanami? I mean, there’s nothing wrong with letting her know that you were concerned, right?”

Shiki leans into her uncle’s side, something warm curling inside her chest at this tidbit of news. “I… I was worried about you too, Kento-ojichan.”

A soft sigh, somewhere above her head. Her uncle pats her on the shoulder. “There was no need for you to worry about me, Shiki. I’m… I’m just glad to see you’re well.”

I feel the same way, oji-chan.

“He’d try and visit you whenever he could, over the past year,” Haibara-san adds. “And then when you suddenly disappeared from the hospital entirely, and none of the doctors would say where you went. It was a pretty big scare, before we finally figured out that the Gojo Clan stepped in to take care of you!”

Shiki isn’t entirely sure if ‘take care of you’ is the right way to phrase her kidnapping via unknown relatives. From the way Kento-ojichan pauses stiffly beside her, he probably doesn’t entirely agree with it, either.

“… Was it Ima?” he asks quietly. Shiki nods. “I should’ve guessed. But why would she…?”

“Take a look at her eyes and you’ll have your answer, Nanami,” Satoru-oniichan clicks his tongue.

“Her eyes?” Kento-ojichan mutters, glancing down. Shiki’s gaze is determinedly fixated on the ground. She doesn’t want to look up. She doesn’t want to see–! “Shiki, please, look at me.”

A brief moment of silence. Then, slowly and reluctantly, Shiki lifts her head.

Red lines. She’d glimpsed them earlier, but like this –standing as close to her uncle as she is, the stark red lines scored across his body are clear and unmistakable. Undeniable.

Kento-ojichan sucks in a short, sharp breath. “What happened?”

“So it really is a new development, then,” Satoru-oniichan muses from the doorway. “Great. Nice to have confirmation.”

“Does it hurt?” Kento-ojichan ignores his upperclassman entirely. He drops to a knee in front of Shiki again, one hand automatically coming up to reach for her face, before apparently thinking the better of it. “How in the world did something like this even… Ieiri-san, could you take a look at her? Shiki’s eyes, they were never–!”

“Breathe, Nanami,” Shoko-san –Ieiri-san– shifts her weight, taking a seat on a nearby desk. “Calm down, I’ve already ran my technique over her, earlier. Her eyes are functionally fine.”

“… Her eyes are blue.”

“So are mine!”

“Satoru, your eyes are supposed to be blue,” Suguru-san (Geto-san?) rolls his eyes.

The white-haired teen gesticulates in Shiki’s direction, then points to himself for emphasis. “What’s wrong with cursed eyes being blue?!”

His friend gives him a dubious look. “… Is that even a thing?”

“I’d say that it appears that she’s manifested some sort of ocular curse, after waking up from her coma,” Ieiri-san says, blithely ignoring her classmates’ animated bickering in the background. “If possible, it would probably be best to check in the Gojo Clan’s records, to see if there were any previous cases similar to hers that we could refer to. It’s not the Six Eyes, but… perhaps some variant of it?”

Kento-ojichan’s lips thin. “I… she’s never shown any signs of cursed techniques before. Ima-san even came and checked.”

Ieiri-san shrugs. “While stronger techniques usually show earlier signs when you look for them, it’s still considered normal for children to awaken a cursed technique when they’re anywhere from four to six years old. Shiki here is, what. Six?”

“She's… yes, she's just turned six.”

“Right on the dot, then,” Ieiri-san nods, “I know the clans also have their ways to preemptively check for cursed techniques even when a kid's just been born, but clearly there's room for error. Everything is still completely normal, if slightly unexpected in your niece's case.”

Kento-ojichan quickly glances down towards Shiki, who stares back up at him impassively. “… She’s going to be a sorcerer, isn’t she.”

The words themselves are a question, but they come out as something more of a resigned statement instead. Ieiri-san nods again, vaguely sympathetic, for some ominous reason Shiki can’t quite understand.

Sorcerer? Just like Kento-ojichan?

“Ocular jujutsu like this is rare, Nanami. It’s unlikely that the Gojo Clan would be willing to let her go,” the young woman sighs tiredly. “If she becomes a sorcerer, then at least she’ll be able to protect herself. And… considering what the clans are like about keeping certain techniques within the family…”

At this, the blond frowns, scowling. “She’s not even a Gojo! Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Actually? She kind of is,” Satoru-oniichan suddenly chimes in unhelpfully from the side. “Ima already went through the procedures, as her next-of-kin who’s an adult.”

“If you want to dispute that, it’s probably going to be years down the line before you actually can, Nanami-kun,” Geto-san rubs his chin, faintly apologetic. “And… her father was born a Gojo, right? That’s probably all the higher-ups will focus on, knowing them.”

Kento-ojichan makes a frustrated, helpless sound in his throat.

Shiki bites her lip, leaning forward. She doesn’t… she doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Doesn’t really understand anything beyond knowing that her eyes have changed, and this means that Ima-san wants her for –for something. Something about curses? Cursed techniques? Sorcerers? … Shiki doesn’t know. But what Shiki does know, listening to this conversation, is that Kento-ojichan can’t help her. He wants to –he cares for Shiki, undoubtedly– but he can’t help her, not in face of the ‘Gojo Clan.’

So.

“I’ll be fine, Kento-ojichan,” Shiki tries to smile. In this moment, all she can think of is Ima-san’s cold satisfaction. “… Ima-san wants me for my eyes. I… I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not exactly a good thing, Shiki,” her young uncle says tersely, voice low. She knows that. But even so–

“It’s not as if you can do anything about it, Nanami-kun,” Satoru-oniichan drawls lazily from the side. “Not right now, at least. And it’s not a bad thing, either. Even putting aside the fact that you’re only a student right now… with her eyes like that, do you really think you can protect her on your own? I started getting my first assassins sent after me when I was five, y’know. Kidnappers, too.”

… Assassins?!

Mildly alarmed, Shiki gives her similarly white-haired cousin a scrutinizing look, trying to determine if he’s just messing with her. She gets a sharp-toothed grin and little else. Glancing up at Kento-ojichan reveals that her uncle has gone pale, however, so clearly there’s an element of truth to Satoru-oniichan’s words.

“True, she doesn’t have the Six Eyes,” her cousin continues blithely. “But Shoko mentioned it earlier, didn’t she? Ocular jujutsu like ours is rare. That makes us valuable. I’d be surprised if there aren’t any cursed users going after her once news of her eyes gets out, honestly. And I’m sure that there are already certain rumors… circulating.”

Kento-ojichan looks grim.

“There are obviously a lot of problems with the three great families, but Satoru does have a point here,” Geto-san sighs. “If it weren’t for her eyes, maybe we could try to convince Yaga-sensei to have her be a ward of the school, similar to your current situation, Nanami, but…”

“I understand,” Kento-ojichan says quietly, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Geto-san looks sympathetic. “It’s not so bad. Probably. If nothing else, at least Satoru will be able to keep an eye out for her, right?”

Satoru-oniichan gives a lazy thumbs-up in response to that. Kento-ojiichan doesn’t seem entirely convinced, and. Well. Maybe it’s pretty obvious that her cousin doesn’t know how to take care of children. But Shiki remembers how he’d breezed into her hospital room and waltzed right back out with Ima-san unable to say anything against him, remembers how he’d carried her all across the school grounds and kept his word. How do you feel about sneaking out to visit Nanami-kun?

“I’ll be fine, Kento-ojichan,” Shiki says again. And this time, the words come out with a touch more genuine.

Even if Ima-san has ulterior motives for wanting Shiki, even if the Gojo Clan turns out to be dangerous in a way that might make assassins or kidnappers seem like the preferable option, even if it turns out that Satoru-oniichan might be similarly helpless against the wishes of his clan, just as Kento-ojichan currently is…

Shiki is just happy to see Kento-ojichan again. She doesn’t want Kento-ojichan to worry. She won’t be a burden for Kento-ojichan.

(… She won’t get him killed. Not like what happened with her parents.)

Shiki… really, really shouldn’t still be alive.

But she is. She’s dead, but not, and now her eyes reflect that unnatural dichotomy in the form of fractured, eerie red lines.

So.

“I’ll be fine.”

Chapter Text

When Shiki returns to the Gojo clan compound, there is an entourage waiting at the gates.

Or, well. Not an entourage, precisely, but there are… a number of people quite pointedly gathered by the tall, polished gates, evidently having already stood there for some time already. At the forefront of them all is a familiar-looking elderly man who stands there serenely, hands tucked neatly beneath the folds of his long sleeves.

Shiki’s initial knee-jerk reaction is something along the lines of, Am I in trouble?

… Despite the fact that, technically, Shiki isn’t exactly beholden to any of them –except Ima-san, maybe, by virtue of being her aunt? But even that’s debatable. Probably.

Satoru-oniichan, on the other hand, clearly holds no such compunctions. The white-haired teen is wholly unbothered as he easily strolls straight up to the crowded gates, Shiki trailing along quietly behind him. “Yo, long time no see, Old Daisaku.”

Shiki recognizes Daisaku-sama from that uncomfortable meeting that was held over her eyes. Judging by several sharp intakes of breath from the other people around them, though, she’s guessing that Daisaku-sama isn’t someone to be addressed so casually –unless you’re Satoru-oniichan. The young man stands there with a smile that says he dares for someone to call him out on his irreverence.

Which doesn’t seem very likely to happen, going by the ducked heads around them and gazes fixated to the ground.

For better or for worse, Daisaku-sama appears wholly unconcerned by the apparent disrespect. “It’s certainly been awhile, Satoru-kun. I’m glad to see you well.”

“Uh-huh,” Satoru-oniichan sounds disinterested. “So what’s up with the welcoming party here?”

“… We’re merely here to offer our greetings to our esteemed clan heir. It’s been quite some time since you’ve last returned home, after all.”

“Ri-ght.” There’s not one jot of belief in that drawn-out word that Shiki can discern. Satoru-oniichan shrugs. “Well, school’s busy, what can I say?”

Daisaku-sama hums lightly. Then, deliberately careless, “Yet I see that you’ve made the time to become acquainted with your new cousin here. I hope Shiki-chan hasn’t been too much trouble to look after.”

The way that he speaks might be genial and grandfatherly, but Shiki doesn’t trust it in the least. She doesn’t like the implication behind his words, either, as if Shiki is his charge and her behavior reflects upon him, someone whom she’s only ever met once –and not exactly under ideal circumstances. While he doesn’t look at Shiki with quite the same sort of expectation that Ima-san does, there’s no doubt that he, too, is someone who wants something from Shiki for her newly-cursed eyes.

The little girl eyes the red lines scored over the elderly man, then lowers her gaze.

“She’s a good kid,” Satoru-oniichan responds casually. Satoru-oniichan… he has cursed eyes, too, doesn’t he? How does he deal with it? How does he deal with… this? “I’ll be dropping by to check in on her, so don’t be surprised to see me around more often! Might take her with me to school a few more times in the future, too, and–”

“That would not be wise, Satoru-kun.”

Her cousin stills. Around them, several people almost seem to shrink in on themselves, collectively holding their breaths. “Oh?”

Across from them, Daisaku-sama bows ever so slightly. “I mean no disrespect, of course. But given the uncertainty surrounding this ability granted to her by her eyes, and considering that the girl is wholly untrained –not to mention, still recovering from a medical coma– it would be safer for her to remain within the compound for her own protection.”

Satoru-oniichan arches an eyebrow from behind the black frames of his sunglasses. “She won’t be safer anywhere else than she’d be with me.”

The confident words go past arrogance and straight into something that’s said with absolute truth, almost as if he’s stating that the sky is blue or the grass is green. Shiki will be safe with Gojo Satoru.

The little girl blinks up at her cousin, eyes wide. Across from them, Daisaku-sama smiles patiently.

“I do not deny your strength, Satoru-kun. Even at the young age of sixteen, you already far outstrip the brightest talents of the clan in terms of raw power,” he praises. “As expected of the blessed one who holds both the Limitless and Six Eyes–”

“Get to the point.”

“–but you need to understand, no one is perfect,” the elder continues without skipping a beat. “Your strength might be more than enough to fend off unsavory characters targeting you, but it would be prudent to take more precautions for your little cousin. She has potential, certainly, but she is still weak and untrained. There’s a reason why we had placed obfuscation wards up around the hospital… before you single-handedly tore them down when you brought her out with you.”

“You don’t trust me to keep her safe,” Satoru-oniichan states blandly, the slightest hint of something dangerous to his tone. “Then, what are you suggesting? Keeping her locked up in the compound so it’s easy for you to study her eyes?”

“The words you use, Satoru-kun, honestly,” Daisaku-sama tiredly heaves an exaggerated, almost wounded-sounding sigh. “It’s merely for the girl’s own good that she’s at least trained before being given free reign outside the compound, wouldn’t you say? Just the same as what we did for you during your childhood, if you’ll remember. And even then, there were still quite a few close calls.”

Satoru-oniichan snorts, “Yeah, so much for being well-protected on clan grounds.”

The elder frowns reprovingly. “The protections over the clan compound deter malicious intent–”

“Deter, sure. But there are still workarounds, aren’t there?” Satoru-oniichan shrugs, “’Sides, if we’re talking about barriers, you won’t get any better barriers than the ones placed by Tengen, like the ones over Jujutsu Tech–”

“The school’s wards focus on hiding. In terms of defenses, the clan compound is safer against attacks the likes of which the girl will be needing protection from.”

The teenager clicks his tongue. “I disagree. C’mon, be honest with me here, what’s with this reaction of yours? Why are you so insistent on keeping her locked up? Even if it’s just because of her eyes, that’s still no reason to be going overboard like this.”

“… Unfortunately, Ima hadn’t exactly been the most discreet when she’d first brought the girl back to the clan, which started a lot of rumors. We were going to work on curtailing loose tongues after confirming the girl’s situation, but then there was… her second hospitalization. And then you blatantly brought her out to your school, which didn’t exactly help things any,” Daisaku-sama explains dryly, and sighs. “There’s too much attention on her now. We even received a missive from the Kamo Clan the other day, expressing interest in seeing these ‘new Six Eyes.’”

“What, seriously?”

“Yes. We turned them down, of course, citing that the girl’s recovery took precedence over anything else –but that’s irrelevant, at the moment.” The old man turns, and finally sets his attention onto Shiki.

“Although we kept you isolated for your own protection, I understand why you wished to visit the school, Shiki-chan,” he says. “What was his name… ah. Nanami Kento-kun, correct?”

Shiki does not say anything in response, but perhaps her suspicious silence speaks enough for itself. Daisaku-sama sighs again, sounding every bit his elderly age.

“I admit that some of the clan’s methods may come off as being rather… heavy-handed, you could say… but we do have your best interests in mind,” he waves his hand. “While your loyalty to your family is commendable, you now have a responsibility to learn how to properly harness the power you’ve been gifted with. That comes first and foremost before anything else.”

“I didn’t want this,” Shiki finally says.

“Irrelevant,” Daisaku-sama responds without skipping a beat, faintly reprimanding. “You may not have wanted it, but this power is yours, regardless.”

The words are not harsh, but they are certainly irrefutable. Truth. Even though Shiki would’ve much rather had both of her parents alive and well, rather than waking up from a year-long coma with cursed blue eyes… this is the reality that she must live with, now.

Beside her, Satoru-oniichan does not say anything. Perhaps because he knows this to be the truth as well.

“Untrained techniques are dangerous. Potentially to the user themselves, but more so to the people around them, especially if the user in question lacks control,” Daisaku-sama continues. Despite herself, Shiki thinks back to how Kento-ojichan had knelt down and hugged her in relief, red lines flickering over his body, and Shiki…

The girl clenches her fist.

If she… if there was an accident. Then, would Kento-ojichan… just like that blade, would Kento-ojichan…?

“Right, I think we’re getting a little off-topic here,” Satoru-oniichan suddenly breaks in. “So. Basically you’re saying that there’s too many eyes on her at the moment? And you want her to have a better grasp over her technique before she leaves the compound again.”

“That is the clan’s decision on this matter, yes.”

The white-haired teen hums noncommittally, then turns to the little girl by his leg. “… Well, I suppose I don’t necessarily have to bring you out to school with me. I can just bring Nanami-kun over here to you instead!”

Shiki brightens a little. Her main concern is just –she doesn’t want to be barred from seeing Kento-ojichan, not like what Ima-san had been doing before Satoru-oniichan had swept into her hospital room. Although…

Across from them, Daisaku-sama does not seem pleased by the prospect. “Satoru-kun, bringing outsiders onto clan grounds is generally frowned upon, even if–”

“Nope! I don’t want to hear anything about it,” Satoru-oniichan grins sharply. “Or are you telling me that the clan heir doesn’t even have the right to invite guests as he pleases, hmm?”

The look that crosses Daisaku-sama’s face at this makes it look as if he suddenly bit into a lemon. Shiki turns to the side and stifles a small smile. “… Of course not, Satoru-kun.”

“Good, glad we’re on the same page here,” the teenager looks down towards his young cousin. “So, how does a week or so sound? I’ll be back with Nanami in tow.”

A week. That sounds… that sounds ever so long, and if she’s being perfectly honest with herself, Shiki doesn’t like it. She doesn’t want to return to the too-fancy buildings that she doesn’t belong in, doesn’t want to live with Ima-san who only wants Shiki for her eyes. But it’s not like there’s any real alternative. And… and it’s not as if this is a bad thing, right?

If the Gojo Clan wants Shiki because of her eyes, then they’ll take good care of her in order to use her in the future. She understands that much, at least.

“Thank you, Satoru-oniichan,” is all Shiki says, which earns her a sharp smile and a quick headpat. She seems to be saying that a lot to him, she realizes. Part of Shiki can’t help but wonder why a cousin she’s never met is going to such lengths for her. It hadn’t seemed like he was particularly close with Kento-ojichan, back at the school. If anything, he’d seemed to be a lot closer with Geto-san and Ieiri-san, who were in the same year as him. They’d been nice to her, but… there hadn’t really been any reason for them to be. Nothing beyond Shiki being Kento-ojichan’s niece, and–

And… her eyes.

… She feels very ungrateful for the direction that her thoughts have turned in, but for a moment Shiki wonders if Satoru-oniichan wants her for her eyes, too.

It doesn’t matter, though. Even if that does turn out to be the case… she’s still happy to have met him. He’d brought her to Kento-ojichan, just like he’d said he would, when the rest of his clan seemed to be very determined to keep Shiki away from her uncle. And… even though they hadn’t seemed to be particularly close, Kento-ojichan trusted him.

That’s enough for Shiki.

So when Ima-san steps out from behind Daisaku-sama and reaches out towards her niece, the little girl goes with her easily enough. Cold fingers close over her wrist and pull her towards the elegant compound, and–

“Welcome home, Shiki-chan,” her aunt says.

… She doesn’t really trust her voice to respond to that, and opts to remain silent instead.

.

.

Shiki doesn’t really know what she’d been expecting, after being informed that her training and lessons would begin soon. Probably something along the lines of going to school, like Kento-ojichan and Satoru-oniichan? Sitting behind a desk and given books to read and worksheets to fill out?

Instead, she’s presented with a sword.

… It kind of sets the tone for things after that.

Mornings are filled with lessons on swordplay. Shiki stands in a too-large dojo and swings a wooden sword, with a strict instructor watching her every movement. Since your technique seems to be largely based on ‘cutting lines,’ a bladed weapon would suit you best. Shiki’s legs grow tired too quickly and her arms lack strength, and while part of it might be due to her physical condition from being bedridden for so long –well.

If her father were here, he’d probably tell her something about hard work and talent and the former being able to make up for lackings in the latter. But he isn’t. So Shiki repeatedly swings her practice sword in silence under the watchful gaze of her stone-faced instructor until her arms feel like they’re about to fall off. And then continues swinging the sword even more.

… Adequate. But you’ll have to do better than that, Shiki.

Afternoons tend to vary. Sometimes, she sits down with books as one might expect of a typical lesson, but more often than not the subjects are a little… strange. Like how to control cursed energy, or the basics of forming barriers.

It’s all rather overwhelming, to be honest. And through it all, Shiki is acutely aware that she’s constantly being judged and scrutinized for every single thing, and it’s…

She doesn’t like it. But that’s nothing new.

“For what it’s worth,” Satoru-oniichan says, “The clan honestly does want you to do well.”

“Because of my eyes?” Shiki doesn’t even bother looking towards her cousin. Feet set in a balanced stance, she swings the wooden sword in her hands again. One hundred and twenty-one.

“Yes,” he responds candidly. Shiki appreciates the straightforward honesty, at least. “Because your father was a Gojo, and you’ve manifested a new ocular curse. So now the clan is invested in you.”

One hundred and twenty-two. The little girl’s arms tremble, burning with pain, and she carefully readjusts her stance, before raising the practice blade again.

One hundred and twenty-three–

“So, out of curiosity, when are you going to actually disclose what your technique is?”

Shiki fumbles, nearly dropping the sword in the middle of the courtyard. Satoru-oniichan watches on in amusement.

“The elders are calling it ‘Fragility’ for now, since it appears to revolve around enforcing weak points onto other things, similarly to Nanami-kun’s Ratio Technique,” he informs her. “But that’s not the full picture, is it?”

Beginning and end. Open and close.

“… No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Satoru-oniichan seems satisfied by her confirmation. He reaches up and taps at the edge of his pitch-dark glasses, “You know that I have the Six Eyes, so I’m pretty perceptive! Especially when it comes to things like this. It’s kinda hilarious how you still have the elders running in circles over your ability. But… you know what your technique actually does, don’t you?”

Shiki nods slowly, then shakes her head.

“Hm. Some techniques require being figured out through a lot of trial and error, but others come with a… an innate understanding of sorts, if you will,” her cousin muses thoughtfully. “Seems like you lean towards the latter. Is there any reason in particular why you’re trying to keep it to yourself? Makes it harder for others to help with anything if we don’t know what it is we’re supposed to be helping with.”

The little girl gives him a long look. Satoru-oniichan rolls his eyes.

“I’m being honest here! Welcome to being part of a clan: Everyone is a nosy busybody and no secret actually stays hidden forever.” He claps his hands together. “Although, you do realize that the longer you give the elders the runaround on this, the longer they’ll try to keep you locked up in the compound? Even I got free days to wander around outside, y’know.”

Part of Shiki’s wariness about explaining her technique to the people around her boils down to her uneasiness with the Gojo Clan as a whole. That’s not the entire reason, though. Shiki might not trust the elders expecting something from her, might not trust Ima-san who watches her with greedy eyes –but she also doesn’t trust herself, either, not with the nature of her ability being what it is.

… Satoru-oniichan is like her, though. He also has cursed eyes, so he knows what it’s like to see things that really aren’t meant to be perceived by human eyes. Even if it’s not the same thing –as far as Shiki knows, the Gojo Clan’s Six Eyes doesn’t involve seeing red lines– it’s still similar, sort of? So…

A sudden thought strikes her. “Satoru-oniichan, can you tell what my ‘technique’ is?”

The white-haired teen waves his hand flippantly in a vague ‘so-so’ gesture. “Just the broad strokes. Your eyes are like mine, in the sense that the Six Eyes enables effective usage of Limitless. I can tell from the flow of your cursed energy that your eyes are similarly entwined with your technique, even if I can’t determine what it is, exactly.”

“I see.” Shiki falls silent for a moment. She’s uncomfortable with her technique and its implications, which is another part of the reason why she’s deliberately avoided talking about this in any detail to Daisaku-sama and the others for so long. But if it’s Satoru-oniichan…

“I’m… empty,” she finally says. No, that’s probably not the right way to phrase things. But how does she explain this? It’s hard enough just thinking of it as a concept, and… honestly speaking, she doesn’t even really know if she understands enough of this so-called technique herself to explain things properly. But at least she can try. “And, everything has that same emptiness. Everything is flawed, from the instant they come into being to the moment they reach their conclusion. That’s… that’s basically what the lines are.”

Satoru-oniichan makes an interested sound. “So the elders are on the right track, then?”

“… I guess?” Shiki pauses and takes a moment to think about it. “According to them, I’m… basically doing what Kento-ojichan does with his technique, right? Enforcing a weak point onto other things. Except, instead of a single point at a seven-three ratio, it’s lines for me instead. But that’s… not really the case.”

“Mhm. And what would you say is the distinction between your techniques?”

“I’m not enforcing weaknesses onto anything at all,” the girl says quietly. “It’s… everything is already there.”

Her cousin arches an eyebrow. Shiki struggles to pick out the right words for this. Beginning and end. Open and close.

“Show me your technique?” Satoru-oniichan finally asks. That might be a better idea, actually. He’s taken off his sunglasses, blue eyes trained on Shiki as she easily obliges his request.

The little girl bends down and plucks a flower growing by her feet. Then, with little fanfare, Shiki draws her nails through the red lines across its surface.

The flower instantly withers in her hands and crumbles to dust.

“That,” Satoru-oniichan says, “Is definitely not Nanami’s Ratio Technique.”

They’re on the same page, then; Shiki didn’t think so, either. A soft breeze brushes past, and everything is carried away in the wind. Shiki’s hand becomes empty once more.

“If anything, I’d say it’s…” her cousin hums. “Hey, repeat it again with something else? I just want to confirm something.”

The little girl glances around, then lets her gaze fall upon her wooden practice sword.

… No one will miss this, right?

Moments later, the sword falls to the ground in pieces.

There is a brief beat of silence. Then–

“Your eyes,” Satoru-oniichan says, slow and considering, “You see death expressed as lines, don’t you?”

Shiki has been trying very hard to avoid thinking about it in those exact terms, but he isn’t… inaccurate. Her cousin’s gaze rests on her, discerning. Contemplative.

“… Okay, I can see why you’d try to keep quiet about something like this. But trust me, people are going to figure it out, sooner or later.” His hand ruffles her hair. It’s probably meant as a comforting gesture, to offset what he’s saying. “Does Nanami know?”

Shiki shakes her head. Above her, Satoru-oniichan pauses.

“Why not?” There’s no judgment in his voice, just vague curiosity. And the answer to that is–

Because I’m scared.

Although she does not say the words aloud, it looks like her cousin picks up on something of her sentiments regardless.

“Nanami isn’t the type of person who’d turn his back on you or treat you differently just for something like a dangerous technique,” he laughs. “Or… hm. That’s not what you’re really worried about, is it?”

“I trust Kento-ojichan,” Shiki responds quietly. Yes. She trusts her uncle unreservedly, but when it comes to Shiki herself–

“So it’s something on your end, then,” her cousin concludes, then smiles at her winsomely. “C’mon, spill. Control isn’t really a problem for you, is it? Just make sure you don’t cut any lines you don’t want to, and you’re golden.”

That’s easy for him to say, certainly. But to wake up every morning to the sight of red lines everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, knowing that it means death… it’s one thing to look upon the red lines on Ima-san, whom Shiki is indifferent to by and large, and another thing to see the same lines on Kento-ojichan. Shiki misses Kento-ojichan, and she wants to see him, wants to be with him and see for herself that he’s still okay –but at the same time, she also doesn’t. Does that make any sense?

(She thinks it might be part of the reason why she’s grown rather attached to Satoru-oniichan in such a short span of time, aside from the fact that the two of them are the only ones around with cursed eyes. Because of all the people she’s seen since waking up again, Satoru-oniichan has the least red lines marring his body, and it’s… reassuring, in a sense.)

“You’re not the only one with a dangerous technique,” Satoru-oniichan tells her. “Trust me, some are much harder to even control, much less use properly. Have a little more faith in yourself, yeah?”

Shiki gestures towards her eyes. “Doesn’t it… doesn’t it ever get tiring, seeing things like this?”

“What do you think my sunglasses are for?” is the lackadaisical response that she gets. Shiki doesn’t even realize that she’s pouting slightly until her cousin pokes her in the cheek none too gently. “You can inscribe spells onto glasses, too, see if that might help things any.”

Oh. “There are spells that can make the lines go away?”

“Should be doable,” Satoru-oniichan scratches his chin, then shrugs. “I recommend checking in with some of the clan’s toolmakers on this. At any rate, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Shiki cheers a little at the prospect of not having to see deathly red lines everywhere and wherever she looks. It doesn’t hurt, but sometimes it’s all so overwhelming and–

“Satoru-sama, Shiki-sama.”

… Shiki doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to being ‘–sama’-ed. It’s weird. Regardless, both of the white-haired children turn around simultaneously at the call, only to see dark-haired Rie-san folded into a low servant’s bow.

“Guess that’s my cue to leave,” Satoru-oniichan heaves a gusty sigh, then grins at Shiki. “Nanami-kun was called for a mission last-minute this time, but I’ll be sure to bring him around next time. Think about what you’ll want to say to him, yeah?”

The little girl nods.

“Great. Be good and try not to cause too much trouble! Don’t talk to strangers and don’t start any fights, ‘kay?”

“Yes, Satoru-oniichan,” the little girl says patiently in response to her cousin’s silly teasing.

…

Three days later, Shiki gets an invitation to visit the Kamo. 

Chapter Text

It's mild-mannered Gojo Kansuke who delivers the news, a pleasant smile stretched over his lips as he sits across from them at the low table. To the side, Ima-san is every bit the perfect hostess as she pours tea, movements smooth and steady. There is no sign of the startled surprise that had been on her face when Kansuke-san first came knocking on her door, everything swiftly tucked away beneath the polite veneer of a gracious host welcoming into her home an honored guest.

… Shiki probably isn't as thorough in hiding her own surprise at the unexpected news. She'd thought –she'd thought that the Gojo Clan was insisting on keeping her in the confines of the compound, until she had better control over her cursed technique. Isn't that what old Daisaku-sama had said, when confronting Satoru-oniichan?

Not that Shiki was complaining about the prospect of being able to go outside again! But it was still a little… strange, considering the clan's attitude towards her thus far. It's strange, even if she can't quite put her finger on it.

Maybe it was something to do with the fact that this was apparently an invitation from the Kamo? She's come to learn from her lessons that there are "three great families," and the Kamo numbers among them, alongside the Zenin and Gojo. The gosanke claim descent from the "three great vengeful spirits," and hold significant influence in the sorcery circle as a result of their power. So, perhaps it was because of the particular weight to the Kamo's words, that this invitation to visit their clan has reached Shiki.

Although, come to think of it… hadn't Daisaku-sama mentioned something about turning down an invitation from the Kamo, awhile back? Shiki doesn't really remember. But if that's the case, then why did Kansuke-san come here bearing another invitation?

Weird.

Shiki looks at the folded invitation sitting innocently atop the wooden table. It looks innocuous enough, truth be told. But that is only on the surface, she finds herself wondering at the intent behind it. Or maybe she's just reading too much into things?

"A visit to the Kamo Clan will be a good introduction to the larger jujutsu society," Kansuke-san says from the other side of the table. His voice is soft and gentle, quite unlike several of the other clansmen that Shiki has met in recent days. "It would do her well to have a chance to step outside the compound while remaining in a safe environment. Wouldn't you agree, Ima?"

The woman bows her head, then hesitates. "Certainly, your words have merit. But… the instructions I've received from the elders regarding Shiki, I–"

"Ah, there's no need to worry," Kansuke-san smiles reassuringly. "Surely you did not think that I would arrive at your doorstep with an invitation from the Kamo if this had not already been permitted beforehand?"

"O-of course not," Ima-san stutters, but recovers gracefully enough. "I apologize for my presumptions."

"Oh no, there's no need to apologize for that," the man responds warmly with a light laugh, waving his hand. "If anything, I'm glad to see that you take your responsibilities to your niece so seriously. She's lucky to have an aunt like you looking out for her."

Beneath the tabletop, Shiki's hands curl ever so slightly on her lap. She can't help this reaction.

"Your words honor me, Kansuke-sama," the woman responds easily to the given praise. "Shiki is my niece. It's the least I could do, to take care of her in my brother's stead."

I suppose it's my fault for thinking I could ever expect anything of you, Arata. Utterly useless!

Shiki eyes Ima-san and says nothing. The scornful words that she remembers the woman once saying to her father… Shiki might not know her aunt very well, even despite now living under the same roof together, but she knows enough about the woman to realize that it's a rare thing when Ima-san's words actually align with her true thoughts and feelings.

In any case, Shiki is well aware that if it were not for her eyes, Ima-san wouldn't even spare a second glance in her direction. Ima-san cares for Shiki only to the extent that Shiki would be useful to her and the Gojo Clan that she's a part of. That Shiki now happens to be a part of, as well.

The little girl still doesn't quite know how to feel about that.

"It's good that you feel that way. If it's of any reassurance to you, you have been permitted to accompany Shiki when we leave for the Kamo's main clan compound two days from now."

"Two days?" Ima-san draws back with a slight frown. "Pardon me, but that's… rather soon. I would've thought that for such a visit, Shiki would be allowed more time to prepare herself."

"Ah, it's an informal visit. I'm aware that this is rather short notice, but it would be for the best, don't you think? The longer the delay, the greater the chance that news will –well," Kansuke-san breaks off with a slight, helpless shrug. "I'm sure you're aware that there are still many eyes watching Shiki here. With that in mind, it would be prudent to keep a low profile with her activities."

The implication in the man's words are clear: The sooner that this visit to the Kamo Clan takes place, then the less likely it would be for any word to get out regarding Shiki leaving the Gojo clan compound, and the safer she would be from any potential enemies. It all seems a bit excessive to Shiki, if she's being honest. But she recalls the manner in which Satoru-oniichan had casually referred to the assassination attempts that he himself had experienced, and it's… concerning, how such a thing seemed to be almost expected. As if it were perfectly natural.

It's a little unnerving, knowing that Shiki should be expecting similar treatment herself.

"I see. Then, it will be as you say, Kansuke-sama," Ima-san acquiesces.

"Excellent." The brown-haired man nods, then sets down the tea in his hands and stands up from the table with a genial smile. "In that case, I will be seeing the both of you in two days' time."

A perfunctory, cordial bow, and then Gojo Kansuke departs without further fanfare. In his wake, Ima-san slowly lets out a long breath, slight tension seeping from her frame.

Then, she turns towards Shiki with a placid smile. "Come along, child. There is much to prepare for, and not nearly enough time left to us –but we will make do. This will be your introduction to the Kamo Clan, and it would be for the best to make a good impression. Your conduct and bearing will be reflective of the Gojo Clan as well; any missteps will not be looked upon kindly."

Shiki thinks that even though the prospect of leaving the confines of the Gojo Clan's sprawling compound is nice, considering Ima-san's reaction to the news of a visit to the Kamo Clan… she can't say that she's particularly enthusiastic about this upcoming visit to another "great clan." The young girl would've much rather preferred a trip to the school instead, or something along those lines. But Daisaku-sama had made the clan's opinion on that clear.

Although Shiki's overall attitude towards this visit is very much ambiguous, it's clear that Ima-san is pleased by it. The woman is tireless when it comes to drilling Shiki on etiquette and behavior, to the point that Shiki is almost inclined to deliberately mess things up out of spite alone. Maybe. She hasn't made up her mind on it yet.

"You must be on your best behavior," Ima-san tells her, again and again. "The Kamo are one of the three great clans, and stand as one of the pillars of the jujutsu world. It is an honor to have received an invitation written by the hand of the clan head's wife, especially given our position within the Gojo Clan."

"And what position would that be?"

Ima-san blinks, startled. Shiki is usually content to remain silent around the woman no matter what she says, but somehow… maybe it's something about Ima-san's attitude, ever since the afternoon Kansuke-san had brought the Kamo Clan's invitation to their doorstep. Something about her excitement, her anticipation, no matter how well-hidden she tries to keep it. Shiki… doesn't like it.

The tall woman pauses for a moment, as if thinking of how to phrase her answer. Then, carefully, "One's rank within the clan directly correlates to the power they hold. Unfortunately, our branch of the family has borne no notable sorcerers in the last five generations, and that is why our position is so lowly. But that shouldn't be something that you'll have to worry about."

Ima-san reaches over, gently placing her hand atop Shiki's. The young girl does not make any move to acknowledge her aunt's gesture, not that it seems to deter the woman any.

"Your eyes," Ima-san breathes softly. "Your technique. They are precious blessings, and the clan sees and acknowledges your potential. And one day, the entire jujutsu world will see it as well."

There's a touch of something almost fervent to Ima-san's quiet murmurings. Shiki doesn't like it. She doesn't like it.

Blessing? As if. It's even in the name, isn't it? Shiki has cursed eyes. And these techniques are cursed techniques that run on cursed energy. Curses, not blessings. The girl wonders if it's because Ima-san grew up in the Gojo Clan, that she says such things with the conviction that she does. Would Shiki herself come to believe that one day, too?

…

… Yeah, no. That's not looking very likely.

Shiki looks up into Ima-san's pleased expression, and silently wishes for the days to pass faster and for the next week to arrive already. She misses Kento-ojichan.

.

.

Be polite. Be respectful. Do not stare. Do not fidget. Do not speak unless you are spoken to first. Do not cause any trouble for our hosts.

There are dozens upon dozens of rules that Ima-san has done her level best to hammer into Shiki's head for this visit over the past two days in preparation for greeting the Kamo Clan. Honestly, there's absolutely no way that Shiki remembers them all. She doesn't really know what Ima-san was expecting to achieve with just two days' worth of endless nattering on propriety and decorum.

That aside, it's still… nice, to be able to leave the Gojo compound. That's the long and short of Shiki's feelings regarding this trip to the Kamo Clan.

Obviously, Ima-san does not feel the same. It doesn't take a genius to see that the woman is both pleased and nervous, satisfaction warring with anxiety beneath her mask of calm. Unlike Shiki, Gojo Ima has been looking forward to this, ever since the day Kansuke-san had delivered the news.

Why?

Shiki doesn't know for sure, but she has her guesses. When Ima-san had spoken of their branch of the family and their lowly rank within the Gojo Clan, it hadn't been with resignation or acceptance.

Shiki's first impression of the Kamo clan compound is that it's large, just like the Gojo Clan. There are similarities in the traditional buildings, the layout and structure, but more than surface appearances –there's something markedly different in the air, although it's hard for Shiki to put it into words.

Ima-san gently steers Shiki by the shoulder to follow Kansuke-san after a small pause in the courtyard. The man seems to know where he's going, already striding forward with clear purpose in these unfamiliar surroundings.

It's a little strange. The way Ima-san had explained it, this was an invitation. An official visit, no matter how informal the occasion. Yet here they are, three outsiders to the Kamo Clan left to wander about on their own devices. The only one to greet them had been the servant who'd let them in through the gates.

… At least Kansuke-san seems familiar enough with everything and knows where they're going?

It doesn't take long before they enter one of the many buildings. The winding hallways are long and endless, and Shiki almost has half a mind to cut along those red lines gleaming over lacquered wood, just to be done with it all–

No, that's a lie. That's probably just her frustration at large speaking here, and Shiki isn't quite that desperate. Yet. What would even be the point of doing such a thing?

"Kansuke-sama?" Ima-san finally breaks the silence in a quiet voice. There's a nervous undercurrent to her tone, something uneasy. "This is… if I may ask, why–"

The man raises his hand, pressing a finger to his lips in the universal gesture for silence. Ima-san's voice trails off despite her evident confusion. Gojo Kansuke simply shakes his head, then turns and continues leading the way down these silent, endless halls.

Shiki looks at the man thoughtfully for a moment. Red lines twist across his back, glowing. If Kansuke-san notices, he doesn't say anything about it.

And so, the three of them continue walking together in silence. Perhaps the strangest thing about this entire venture is that the path they take is devoid of people, for the most part. They encounter a few more servants down the walkways, all of whom say nothing and simply lower themselves deferentially while they pass. It seems to settle something in Ima-san, who straightens and lifts her chin, but Shiki isn't so sure about that.

"Here we are," Kansuke-san suddenly says, finally coming to an abrupt stop in front of a set of sliding doors that look no different from the dozens of others that they'd passed earlier –full of red lines and scarlet cracks. "Remember to show proper respect to Matsuhime-sama, as befitting her ladyship."

Ima-san is quick to murmur her assent. Shiki takes a long moment to observe Kansuke-san's calm smile. The man's expression gains a slightly strained edge under the continued silence on her part.

She thinks, something is not quite right about this. That's not exactly hard to deduce. The question, however, is just what is wrong here, exactly. And why.

Shiki's gaze lingers on the red lines flickering across the bridge of Kansuke-san's nose, pulsating with an eerie glow. The hairpins holding up her hair in a loose knot behind her head are pointed and sharp. It would be easy–

"… Shiki?"

The little girl blinks, turning towards her aunt at the call of her name as the silent standoff is broken. Ima-san looks as if she wants to grab Shiki by the shoulder again, and there is a slight frown to the downward tilt of her lips in warning. Be polite. Be respectful.

Shiki is honestly starting to wonder if it might've been better to just ignore this entire thing and stay in the Gojo compound.

Kansuke-san inclines his head, then turns and slides open the rice-paper doors.

"Most respectful greetings to Kamo Matsuhime-sama, illustrious Lady of the Kamo Clan. This Gojo Kansuke presents Gojo Shiki, daughter of the Gojo Clan, and her guardian Gojo Ima, who serves as the current head to the Tobiume branch of the Gojo Clan." The man moves to the side with a slight bow, allowing them entrance into the room.

Gojo Ima takes a single step forward, then promptly folds herself into a kneeling bow, forehead pressed to the ground. Vaguely remembering all the etiquette that has been drilled into her the past few days, Shiki moves to do the same and–

"There is no need for that. A Gojo blessed with gifts such as you possesses the right not to bend knee to this esteemed lady." The feminine voice that rings out to stop her is smooth, clear. "Raise your head, child, so that this lady might see your eyes."

… How straightforward.

Shiki lifts her head and looks up.

The room itself is well-furnished, brightly-lit. Sealing tags line the edge of the walls, but Shiki is not well-versed in the subject and can only guess at their purpose. But most prominent in the room is the tall folding panel that spans the entire back length, and it's quite an elaborate work of art, filled with vibrant colors.

And in front of it sits a beautiful woman decked in layers of silken dress. There is no doubt that she is Kamo Matsuhime, wife to the current clan head of the Kamo Clan and the one who had issued Shiki's invitation. Although at this point, it's starting to feel more like a summoning, rather than any sort of actual invitation.

The woman hums consideringly, a thoughtful sound. She flicks her wrist, snapping open a painted fan, and raises it to the lower half of her face. "My, my. Cursed eyes, indeed. How truly fortuitous for the Gojo Clan."

"We are fortunate, indeed," Kansuke-san agrees from the side, straightening from his own bow. Unlike Ima-san, he has not prostrated himself on the ground, and remains standing. "Your recognition does the child much honor."

Kamo Matsuhime-sama laughs. "Flattery is quite unlike you, Kansuke."

"It is but the truth," the man smiles. "It is an honor for the child to receive an opportunity to present herself before the Lady of the Kamo Clan."

The woman hums, but does not continue the current line of conversation. "You may rise, Gojo Ima."

"Thank you, Kamo-sama." Ima-san straightens slowly, then rises to her feet.

"Sit," the woman says. Commands, rather, her voice ringing with the natural authority of one who expects to be obeyed. Kamo-sama tilts her fan towards the seating cushions to the side. "This lady has heard much of the whispers following the sudden appearance of a new ocular jujutsu within the Gojo bloodline. There is much interest surrounding the blessed child within the Kamo Clan, but unfortunately circumstances did not permit an earlier introduction."

"Quite unfortunate," Kansuke-san nods. "But that will no longer be any issue. This is Shiki's first visit outside the compound, and we are honored to be hosted by the esteemed lady of the Kamo Clan herself."

"Oh?" There is a note of something pleased in Kamo Matsuhime's voice, and her gaze rests heavily on Shiki for a moment. "First visit, is it? Then it is an honor for the Kamo Clan as well."

"You are far too kind, Kamo-sama. The honor is surely ours."

The woman smiles benevolently. "Then let it be agreed that there is honor for all involved, and let us move on from the pleasantries. There is much to be discussed, after all."

Kamo Matsuhime pauses for a moment, then makes a small sound, as if just realizing something. "Ah, but such conversation would no doubt prove weary for a child. Perhaps it would be better for the girl to tour the clan grounds, while we discuss matters here."

"Your generosity and consideration knows no bounds, Kamo-sama." Kansuke-san is quick to follow up on the suggestion. "I'm sure that Shiki would be grateful for such an opportunity."

"There will surely be further opportunities in the future as well," the woman responds lightly. "It will be good for the child to acquaint herself here."

Shiki watches the easy back and forth between the two silently. Beside her, Ima-san is equally silent, if not quite as calm. Perhaps her aunt has finally started to realize that there's something off about the situation as well. For all that it's supposedly an honor to be received by Kamo Matsuhime-sama in her capacity as lady-wife to the clan head, one would think that there would at least be more people around for a visit. Particularly one that was supposed to, how did she put it again? 'Serve as an introduction to the Kamo Clan,' or something like that?

As things currently are, this is more of a private audience –not to mention, they had barely encountered any people coming in, following the relatively empty path that Kansuke-san had led them through. Had it been on purpose?

… Possibly. But Kansuke-san was a Gojo, wasn't he? So why…?

The doors slide open again, and Kamo Matsuhime-sama elegantly gestures towards it with her fan. Or rather, to the young boy standing beneath the wooden frames, who sketches a polite bow as he enters the room.

"Nobutomo-kun is this lady's firstborn son, and heir to the Kamo Clan. He will be your guide," she says.

Shiki blinks.

It's easy enough to see the relation between them. Kamo Nobutomo has the same dark hair and dark eyes as his mother, the same pleasant expression settled over his lips. Red lines flicker down the side of his face, over the length of his arms.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he says to her with a light, courteous bow.

"… It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well," Shiki echoes the greeting, sketching a small bow of her own.

"How charming. It seems like the children will get along well," Kamo-sama sounds satisfied. "Take care of your guest now, Nobutomo-kun."

"Of course, honored mother."

As Shiki stands up to leave, Ima-san's hand suddenly clamps down over her wrist. There's a funny look on her face in this moment, almost as if Ima-san herself can't believe her own actions –this blatant breach of decorum, and in front of Kamo Matsuhime-sama no less– but for a single instant Shiki thinks she might hear Ima-san say Stay. Your offer is kind, Kamo-sama, but Shiki should stay here and remain with us.

"Ima-san?" Gojo Kansuke's tone is mild, but the woman jerks a little from it all the same. "Your concern for Shiki does you credit, but it is misplaced here, I assure you.

Ima-san's mouth opens and closes. "I…"

"Nobutomo-kun will take care of her," Kamo-sama says idly. Her tone is not displeased, but it's… decidedly neutral, in this moment. "No harm will befall the child on Kamo clan grounds."

"… Of course, Kamo-sama." Ima-san's fingers twitch, then slowly release their grip on Shiki's wrist. "I… apologize."

The last that Shiki sees of her aunt is the woman with her head bowed low before Gojo Kansuke and Kamo Matsuhime, and then the doors slide shut behind them. She wonders if it's her imagination, that the two almost seemed to loom over Ima-san. Wonders idly if she should be concerned about it. It would be a lie to say that Shiki cares for Ima-san –but she isn't entirely apathetic to the woman, either, despite all that she's done.

"Would you like to see the gardens first?" her young guide asks. Kamo Nobutomo is older and stands well over a head taller than Shiki herself, which means that she has to crane her head back to look up at him. Not exactly a pleasant feeling. But the polite smile on his face is pleasant enough, so.

"Alright, Kamo-san," Shiki nods simply.

The older boy pauses briefly in his tracks. "There's no need for that. You may call me Nobutomo."

"… Nobutomo-san, then."

The boy flashes a quick smile at her. "Ah, you may drop the '-san' as well. I wouldn't mind."

Shiki doesn't quite frown, but it's a close thing. Recalling Ima-san's careful words– "That wouldn't be appropriate, Nobutomo-san."

Her words are firm, but the older boy only looks vaguely amused by her insistence.

"If I say that it's fine, then it is," he tells her. "But I understand your reservations. Although this may only be our first meeting with each other, one day I hope you will grow comfortable enough to address me plainly in the future."

"First meeting?" Shiki isn't sure that she likes the implication that there will be a second meeting like this. Or a third. There's still something about this entire venture that seems off to her, even if she can't quite pinpoint why–

"Indeed," the boy nods. "My honored mother has expressed an interest in… cultivating closer relations with the Gojo Clan in our generation. I'm sure that this is what she is currently discussing with Gojo Kansuke-san. There will surely be further opportunities for us to learn more and become better acquainted with each other."

… Is this a clan thing? Shiki doesn't know. She doesn't like the stiff atmosphere, doesn't like the way it constantly seems like there's double conversations going on around her. Surprisingly enough, Shiki comes to the realization that she's actually looking forward to when this visit ends and she can just head back to the Gojo clan compound. That itself probably says enough about Shiki's current feelings regarding this visit.

Personal feelings aside, she still does her best not to fall asleep through the trivial, meaningless conversation with Nobutomo-san as he leads her through the walkways and corridors. Unlike when Shiki and Ima-san had been following Kansuke-san on their way in, Nobutomo-san seems to have no reservations about taking her through the more populated areas and being seen. No one is rude enough to stare, but Shiki would have to be blind not to see the way some of the Kamo clansmen pause when they catch sight of her trailing behind their clan heir. In a sea of black hair and raven eyes, Shiki is conscious that she stands out like a sore thumb.

"Over to the west, that's where the defense squad's training quarters are located. Only the best and brightest within the clan receive training there. The current squad captain is Shiroshichi-san. And to the east, there is –you."

The polite, friendly tenor that Nobutomo-san had been speaking in this entire time suddenly breaks off and changes. There's a touch of irritation instead, poorly-hidden distaste.

How curious.

"What's something like you doing here?" Nobutomo-san demands, and the acidic words burn, dripping with such venom that Shiki is taken aback at the abrupt change in attitude. What could elicit such a vehement reaction from the Kamo clan heir in his own home?

"… Responding to the honored clan heir, I… I am to report to the defense squad for training purposes–"

"Lies," the boy bites out harshly. "You expect me to believe that? You, who are nothing but a filthy–"

Kamo Nobutomo breaks off mid-sentence, as Shiki easily sidesteps him to take a look at who he's spitting such vitriol at. Given the harsh intake of breath from the boy behind her, she thinks he might've forgotten her presence entirely in the heat of the moment. Not that Shiki particularly cares much, but she supposes that it must be embarrassing for gentlemanly Nobutomo-san, to show such an uncouth side of himself before a 'guest.'

… It's another boy. A short-haired little boy who is clearly much younger than Nobutomo-san, and probably closer to Shiki's own age. Unlike Nobutomo-san who is dressed in fine silks, his attire is much simpler and well-worn. Which makes sense, given that he'd mentioned something about heading to training.

How curious, that Nobutomo-san had almost seemed offended that this boy was receiving training. Upset. And was that… a hint of jealousy, even?

The two looked similar enough to each other in terms of appearance that Shiki wouldn't be surprised to learn that they turned out to be close relations. Brothers, perhaps? Or maybe cousins?

The boy stares at Shiki with wide eyes for a moment, before taking a step back and folding himself into a polite bow. "This Kamo Noritoshi greets a distinguished guest of the Kamo Clan."

… Was it really that obvious that Shiki was related to the Gojo?

"Greetings," Shiki responds reflexively, offering a polite bow of her own. There's a slightly choked sound from Nobutomo-san –did she just make some kind of faux pas? … But it was just a simple greeting? "I am… Gojo Shiki. It's a pleasure."

"Shiki-san," Nobutomo-san grits out through his teeth. "You honor him with such words. There is no need to treat a bastard child with such respect."

Shiki raises an eyebrow at that statement.

The boy shakes his head tiredly, then strides forward without another word, roughly brushing past Kamo Noritoshi. Who stumbles from being jostled by the older boy, nearly falling flat on the ground, although he manages to catch himself just in time.

"Let us continue onward, Shiki-san. There is no need to sully your eyes any further with such–"

Shiki sees it a moment before it happens.

To their left, there is a wall. A wall filled with red cracks, as all things are for Shiki these days. But suddenly the lines double, triple, crisscrossing to the point where it's just a glowing red mass, and–

There is an explosive sound, a loud crash. Shiki's arms are crossed in front of her face, blocking the dust and debris thrown about from the entire wall being broken down.

And when she looks up again, standing amid the rubble is a monstrous Curse.

The overall shape of it is vaguely catlike –if cats would have six legs and countless red eyes scattered over its flanks, with fangs that resemble tusks more than feline teeth. Its mouth opens, and rather than a wordless roar or shriek, it sounds more like laughter instead. Giddy, maniacal laughter, with an underscore of something harsh and raspy.

It's also tall, towering like a behemoth above the three children. And above all the other Kamo clansmen around them, who are scattering with startled yelps at its sudden appearance. At the sudden appearance of a curse, right within the heart of the Kamo clan compound.

So much for being a safe environment.

"Step back, Shiki-san!" Nobutomo-san is quick to react, stepping in front of Shiki as if to physically shield her with his own body. "T-the defense squad will be here to take care of this swiftly! We'll just need to–"

The cat-curse flicks its ear.

Then, it raises a paw, swiping –and Kamo Nobutomo-san, noble heir to the Kamo Clan, is sent flying through the air like a broken kite. The boy comes to an abrupt stop when he slams against a miraculously intact wall at the other end of the corridor with a nasty crack and pained shout, crumpling to the ground.

Shiki flicks a quick glance over to him. Red lines flicker over his body, slowly increasing in number. But it's nothing too serious, though. He'll live.

She turns back towards the curse. Kamo Noritoshi-san has taken it upon himself to fight the cat-curse, now. It's interesting to observe his movements, the way he ducks and dodges under the blows. Going by the bow and quiver of arrows he carries, Shiki would've thought him to be more of a ranged fighter, rather than one who tries to fight in close quarters–

"Go! Run! I will take care of this!"

–the cat curse's claws catch on his side and tear, ripping into flesh and spilling blood. The boy hisses in pain, but it does not stop him. Rather, he forms a strange seal with his hands instead, and the blood that spills from his body forms scarlet tendrils in the air, lashing forward to bind the rampaging curse.

Ah, right. Shiki thinks she remembers something being mentioned about the Kamo Clan's prized hereditary curse from her lessons. Blood manipulation, was it?

The curse screams, struggling against the blood-bindings. For a moment, the two are locked in a standoff against each other, but then the cat-curse snarls, cursed energy swelling in a sudden surge, and the bindings break.

"Please! Take Nobutomo-sama and run!" Although the boy does not turn towards her, unwilling to take his eyes off of the curse prowling around them, there's no doubt that he's addressing Shiki. "I will defeat the curse with my arrows once you clear the area."

Oh! So that's why he chose to fight the curse up close and personal, even despite being a ranged fighter –to try and keep its attention on him, to reduce the risk of the curse turning its attention towards others on the scene. Shiki can admire that.

"Alright, then," she concedes easily enough. This curse may be a vicious one, but it's not dangerous, so she doesn't feel bad about leaving Kamo Noritoshi-san to deal with it on his own. God knows why a curse like this is running amok like this in the Kamo clan compound, though. But that has nothing to do with Shiki. She is a guest, and guests were not supposed to cause trouble for their hosts–

MRRRAAARGH!

Halfway down the hallway to Nobutomo-san's crumpled form, Shiki sharply stops and turns.

… The cat-curse is charging towards her. Despite Noritoshi-san's efforts –and she can see the open shock on the boy's face, can see the way he tries and fails to use his blood to trip up the curse and bind it again– the cat-curse barrels down on her like a thundering avalanche.

A thundering avalanche covered in flickering crimson lines.

It takes less than a second for Shiki to pull out her hairpin and twirl it in her hands; in the next, she raises her arm and slashes cleanly through the curse.

… I wonder if Ima-san is going to try and scold me for this.

Chapter Text

From the very first day of her lessons with the Gojo Clan, Shiki had been informed of exactly what her lessons were meant for, in no uncertain terms.

It is the solemn duty of a sorcerer to fight and exorcise curses.

In this moment, her mind remains calm, pulse unbothered. Maybe she shouldn’t be as wholly unmoved as she is, but it’s hard to dredge up fear in face of something that she knows is dead and dying, even despite the grotesque appearance of the monster before her.

(… She’s seen worse.)

The cat-curse screams. It’s a blood-curling, bone-chilling shriek, one that escapes its throat the very instant that Shiki’s hairpin cuts through the red lines on its body. There’s no resistance at all, just one clean, smooth swing. The curse collapses in on itself –literally . Its monstrous form instantly loses cohesion and dissipates into a fine black mist, then vanishes entirely without a trace.

Shiki lowers her arm and eyes her hairpin. It looks clean, she supposes. And the accessory is wholly undamaged, too, so it’s definitely still usable. Except Shiki isn’t so good at putting her hair up by herself, especially not with her hair the long length that it currently is. Would it be considered rude to walk around the Kamo compound with a messy hairstyle? Or would it be ruder to walk around with her hair down? … Does it really even matter if Shiki is being rude or not?

“I-I apologize for my earlier lapse… are you alright?”

Shiki blinks, startled out of her thoughts.

“I’m perfectly fine, Kamo-san,” she looks up and reassures the young boy who approaches her slowly. Kamo Noritoshi seems both relieved and uneasy, which is a little confusing. The curse is dead. Shouldn’t he be relieved and happy, or something?

… Unless he was unhappy that Shiki exorcised the curse, when he had previously asked for her to stand aside. Ah, was it considered rude to exorcise a curse on your own when you were in another clan’s compound? But it had practically been right on top of her! Which had narrowed Shiki’s options for dealing with it considerably. She doesn’t think that any reasonable blame can be placed at her feet for choosing the one option that wouldn’t end up with her being crushed underfoot. Shiki doesn’t even want to think about what the Gojo elders’ reactions would be if she ended up in the hospital again.

Speaking of which, “Is there anything we should do for Nobutomo-san?”

Shiki gestures vaguely at the unconscious Kamo Nobutomo-san slumped over at the other end of the destroyed corridor. All this time with a curse rampaging around, and he still hasn’t stirred. For someone who was the heir to the Kamo Clan, she would’ve thought that at least–

No, it’s probably not Shiki’s place to comment on something that is likely deeply entwined with the internal politics of another clan. All things considered, there was most likely a lot more involved in the qualifications to being named clan heir than just strength, anyways. It’s not as if Nobutomo-san’s shortcomings in fighting curses have anything to do with Shiki in the first place. She can pretend to be politely oblivious.

Kamo Noritoshi-san approaches the unconscious boy and bites his lip, carefully looking him over.

“We should call the healers,” he murmurs. Then flushes, swiftly backtracking to correct himself, “I-I will call the healers! Please excuse me, I’ll just be–”

“Just what happened here?”

The new voice that easily drowns out the boy’s words is steely, authoritative. Shiki turns around, only to be met with the sight of a tall, frowning man. The new arrival clicks his tongue, eyes sweeping over the scene with disapproval –and freezes. His eyes snap back to her and she can see him stiffen, as his mind registers the sight of a little white-haired girl standing wholly unharmed and untouched next to the two Kamo boys, who are both injured and bleeding.

… Should she be concerned about this? Shiki doesn’t think that she did anything wrong, given the unexpected situation, but at a glance this probably doesn’t look so good.

“Shiroshichi-sensei,” Noritoshi-san breathes, turning. Then stumbles, when the motion tugs a little too hard at his injury. The bloody gash on his side paints a dark stain against the black cloth of his training clothes. “T-there was… a curse must have broken out of the cages somehow. I was on my way to the training grounds when it attacked, and… Nobutomo-sama was injured when it appeared. Then I… I… Gojo-san exorcised it.”

The stern man slowly turns his attention towards Shiki instead, who stands her ground and stares back at him impassively. He is only able to hold her gaze for a brief moment, before looking aside.

Good instincts, Shiki thinks.

“… So you were the one to kill it, then?” The man sighs tiredly and raises a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in a well-practiced motion. “I don’t even… I sincerely apologize that you’ve had to deal with this mess. It’s unbecoming of the Kamo Clan to embarrass ourselves in such a manner before a… distinguished guest. Your presence here is quite the surprise, but nonetheless it is an honor to meet the Gojo Clan’s newest blessed child.”

With that, the man steps back and executes a curt, polite bow.

“Kamo Shiroshichi, current captain of the Kamo Clan’s Defense Squad,” he introduces himself.

“Gojo Shiki,” the young girl responds simply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Kamo Shiroshichi-san straightens. “Now. I apologize that you were not shown the proper hospitality as befitting a guest of your status. Had the Kamo known of your arrival, we would’ve made the proper greetings and arrangements.”

Shiki blinks.

“That’s… interesting, since I was invited here by the Kamo Clan,” she says slowly. But judging by Shiroshichi-san’s words, by the clear surprise he’d shown upon spotting her here, evidently her presence came as a shock to him. That didn’t make any sense, though. Shiki had seen the invitation herself. She thinks about the oddities she’d noticed ever since stepping foot into the Kamo clan compound, the secluded path Kansuke-san had taken, and the way the esteemed Lady had been almost eager to send Shiki off with her son. There is definitely something wrong about all of this. “Kamo Matsuhime-sama should still be meeting with Gojo Kansuke and Gojo Ima.”

The man’s eyes widen, then narrow in realization. “… I see. That’s… quite in-character of Matsuhime-sama, I suppose, even if this behavior is certainly unbecoming of a lady of her station.”

His tone as he speaks of Lady Kamo Matsuhime is clearly dissatisfied, reproving. To speak of the Lady in such a manner, and so openly…

“Noritoshi.” The boy in question jumps a little, as Shiroshichi-san suddenly turns to address him. “Please guide Gojo-san to the main reception hall, as proper for receiving such guests of the clan. I will see to it that Matsuhime-sama is informed of this change in reception for our Gojo Clan guests.”

“Yes, sir,” Noritoshi-san nods, then hesitates. “Ah, um… we should call a healer for Nobutomo-sama first, shouldn’t we? He’s still bleeding, and–”

“No need to worry about that,” Shiroshichi-san waves a hand. “Healers are already on the way. It’s nothing serious.”

Shiki still might not know much about the nuances of living with a clan, but… is that really any way to be treating the clan heir? The clan heir who is currently injured and unconscious, even? … Isn’t Shiroshichi-san being a little too flippant about this?

“Nothing serious…?” Noritoshi-san sounds like he’s thrown for a loop by Shiroshichi-san’s wholly unconcerned response as well, so it clearly isn’t just Shiki here. “B-but he’s unconscious! That curse threw him into the wall, if he has a head injury then he should be treated for it as swiftly as–”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Shiroshichi-san repeats, and shakes his head. Then, with a slightly raised voice, “Besides, isn’t it embarrassing, for the heir-presumptive of the Kamo Clan to be taken out by a low-level curse in a single blow? Better to remain unconscious until the healers arrive, than to face the consequences of such shameful weakness.”

“What…?”

Shiki turns slightly. Notes the way the ‘unconscious’ Nobutomo-san twitches, the way his fingers curl in on themselves ever so slightly, the way his jaw clenches, before all smoothing out into nothing.

Politely oblivious, Shiki reminds herself.

Noritoshi-san’s gaze darts from Shiroshichi-san, who seems wholly unamused, to Nobutomo-san, who continues playing possum. It takes a long moment before the implication of Shiroshichi-san’s words finally clicks in the young boy’s mind, and his eyes widen in realization.

“Guide Gojo-san to the main reception hall please, Noritoshi,” the man says again, sighing. “… And see a healer yourself for your injury afterwards. Don’t worry about anything else, I’ll take care of the rest.”

.

.

The Kamo Clan’s main reception hall, as it turns out, is much larger than the room that Kamo Matsuhime-sama had received them in. Spacious and well-lit, finely decorated. It aligns a lot better with the mental image of what Shiki had envisioned for a ‘visit,’ much more so than whatever had been going on with Matsuhime-sama.

There’s a pleasant smile on the aforementioned lady’s face as she sweeps into the room, but the expression on her face does not match the light in her eyes in the least. Kansuke-san enters the room a half step behind her with a slightly strained smile. It’s Ima-san behind them who catches Shiki’s attention, though, because in the short span of time that she’s left the woman’s side it appears as if Ima-san has aged an additional ten years.

… Okay, so she’s exaggerating a bit here. But Ima-san looks ever so tired, and there is a marked gap of space between her and Kansuke-san as they enter the room one after another. Shiki gets the impression that, whatever the adults had discussed while she’d been out of the room –it probably hadn’t gone well for Ima-san.

Matsuhime-sama reaches the front of the room and turns, silken robes flaring out in a circle around her from the graceful motion.

“This is entirely unnecessary,” she says flatly. “It’s merely an informal visit, a child greeting her elders as appropriate–”

“I respectfully disagree, Matsuhime. Gojo Shiki does not visit us as just another daughter of the Gojo Clan, and as such, certain formalities must be kept. The main reception hall is proper and fitting for welcoming such guests –not a private invitation to the sealed rooms of your own chambers.”

Shiki catches sight of the way Matsuhime-sama’s lip curls, before it’s quickly hidden as the lady snaps open her fan once more. “… Elder Shino.”

It’s a wizened, elderly man who enters the room, flanked by several other men. Although his back is hunched, his movements are still nimble. And from the shrewd light in his eyes, it’s clear to see that his mind is sharp as well.

“Greetings, esteemed visitors from the Gojo Clan.” Elder Shino’s gaze sweeps over them, lingering for a moment on Shiki, before moving on. “… Gojo Kansuke. It has been quite some time since your last visit to us. How is Kikuhime?”

Kansuke-san bows stiffly upon being addressed directly by the Kamo elder. “My honored mother is well, and expresses her regrets that she could not join us for this visit today. She will be glad to know that such a respected elder as yourself has asked after her well-being.”

The old man snorts, “Hah! Kikuhime has always had a clever tongue even as a young girl, and I see that her son is no different from her. But she would do well to remember that the matters of the Kamo Clan are no longer her concern. Nor were they ever yours to begin with, Gojo Kansuke.”

Kansuke-san hesitates. “… With all due respect, Shino-sama, I do not understand what you’re referring to.”

“No. I think you understand exactly what I’m saying,” the elder shakes his head. “Shiroshichi has already informed me of the situation. Your loyalty to your mother’s line is admirable, I suppose, but you are a Gojo. You may have enjoyed certain privileges here in the past, simply by virtue of being Kikuhime’s beloved son, but you are not a Kamo. Do not overreach yourself in matters that do not involve you. This is your only warning.”

There’s not one note of intimidation in the old man’s voice, but Kansuke-san stiffens regardless.

“Elder Shino,” Kamo Matsuhime’s voice is soft and silken, “This esteemed lady believes that you misunderstand. The presence of these honored guests is merely a simple visit at this lady’s personal request. Kansuke has done nothing worth such reprimands from your–”

“You do your sister no favors, asking such things of her son,” Elder Shino cuts the woman off brusquely. “You know the close eye that the Gojo Clan is keeping on this child. A new ocular jujutsu! You are a fool to believe that you would get away cleanly with spiriting the girl away like this. And all for the sake of that undeserving son of yours?”

The woman’s fingers tighten on her fan. “Watch your words, elder. Nobutomo-kun is still heir to the Kamo Clan. With the Gojo Clan’s support, his place will be secured.”

There is a brief lull in the air once the words leave her mouth. Going by the multiple frowns and narrowed eyes from the other Kamo clansmen flanking Elder Shino… they do not approve of what Kamo Matsuhime is saying.

… Shiki thinks that she’s finally starting to understand what’s going on, a little bit. It seems that Nobutomo-san’s status as heir is shaky, and the lady thinks that ‘cultivating closer relations’ to the Gojo Clan will be enough to cement her son’s position. Which somehow involved Shiki, and so she got Kansuke-san to bring her over to the Kamo Clan for a ‘harmless visit.’

“Gojo Kansuke does not represent the will of the Gojo Clan,” Elder Shino says. “And the Kamo Clan does not bow to the whims of the Gojo Clan, either. You think that arranging a betrothal between your son and a blessed child of the Gojo bloodline will change anything? Foolish –utterly foolish!”

Betrothal? … What?

Startled, Shiki automatically glances towards Ima-san, who remains tight-lipped and silent. To the side, Kansuke-san has gone pale. As for Matsuhime-sama, there are two spots of red high on her flushed cheeks, and it’s unclear whether this is the result of anger or embarrassment.

“This lady may be a fool, but at least she knows to keep to the traditions of the clan,” she hisses. “You? You and the other elders would deprive this lady’s firstborn son of his birthright and see a bastard child lead the Kamo Clan instead! Have you no shame?”

“The Kamo Clan reigns as one of the undisputed pillars of jujutsu society,” Elder Shino responds steadily. “We require a clan head with the strength to lead us, Matsuhime. Your son can barely see curses, and has inherited no technique. He couldn’t even defend himself from a low-grade curse! How can someone like that possibly protect and lead the clan in the future?”

“… So it was you.” The lady’s eyes widen in sudden realization, then narrow in righteous fury. “You set that filthy curse on Nobutomo earlier! How dare you!”

“Please do not level such heavy, baseless accusations, Lady Matsuhime. What happened earlier was merely an unfortunate accident. One of the servants was careless and allowed a binding seal to unravel while transporting curses intended for training purposes.” The old man pauses for a moment. Then, softly, “… It’s not as if this is the first time such an accident has occurred, even. Where is the patience and understanding you once showed when Noritoshi-kun was severely injured by such wayward curses?”

Kamo Matsuhime’s lips thin into a tight line. “… You dare compare a filthy harlot’s son to the rightful clan heir?”

“Noritoshi-kun has inherited the Blood Manipulation technique. Nobutomo-kun has not,” the elder says simply. “In fact, none of your sons have shown signs of any techniques, Matsuhime. I assure you, this would be a very different conversation otherwise.”

The lady laughs sharply, a scornful sound. “Technique? There is more to being the Clan Head than simply possessing a cursed technique!”

“Indeed,” Elder Shino acknowledges. “But without a cursed technique, one cannot possibly be qualified to become Head of the Kamo Clan in the first place. You know this, Matsuhime.”

“All you elders care about are cursed techniques!” Kamo Matsuhime swivels around, pivoting. Kansuke-san takes a step back and Ima-san flinches, but Shiki remains unmoved. The lady’s lips curl into a satisfied, triumphant smile even as the little girl looks back at her placidly. “… Well, this lady has found one for her son. The child’s guardian has already been convinced that such an arrangement would be in the best interests of all parties involved. Gojo Shiki will be wed to Kamo Nobutomo once she is of age, and then none will be able to dispute his position!”

… What?

Shiki instinctively glances towards Ima-san. Ima-san, who is very fixedly not looking in her direction, head bowed and fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles turn white. Her reaction does not reassure Shiki in the least, and only confirms the truth of Kamo Matsuhime-sama’s words in this moment.

Betrothal? Wedding? With Kamo Nobutomo-san, who she’s only just met today?

… Shiki doesn’t like the idea of it. The haughtiness in the older boy’s mannerisms, the way he had treated Noritoshi-san… Shiki doesn’t like any of what she’s seen. But more than simply disliking Nobutomo-san on a personal note, Shiki does not like how such a decision has apparently been made for her. She hadn’t even known what was going on! Hadn’t known what was going on from the very start, and just assumed that none of this really had anything to do with her. The girl had thought that the Kamo Clan was only just interested in her eyes like the Gojo Clan–

And now, this.

Marriage is still a far-off concept for her that she can’t quite properly grasp, but Shiki knows that her mother and father had loved each other dearly, and that was why they married each other. Not… this.

The Gojo Clan at least claimed to have her best interests at heart. The Kamo Clan –or rather, Kamo Matsuhime– was patently obvious about her intentions to use Shiki as a tool to solidify her son’s position within the clan. And Shiki wants no part of it.

But what can she do? What can she do about this? Shiki is uncomfortably aware that, as her guardian, Ima-san has an extraordinary degree of control over her. She just hadn’t thought that it also extended to… well, that doesn’t really matter at the moment. Right here, right now, Shiki needs to make it clear that she is not interested in any further involvement with the Kamo Clan. Not that she had any interest to start with in the first place. She has no interest in any of the Clan Drama that she’s unwillingly borne witness to today. Shiki does not care who the Kamo Clan chooses as their heir. She just wants them to leave her out of it!

But how to go about enforcing that? If it were Satoru-oniichan…

… Shiki doesn’t think Kansuke-san would’ve dared to try pulling something like this in the first place. Because Satoru-oniichan is strong, right? The strongest, her blue-eyed cousin had said to her with a playful smile and wink.

Shiki isn’t strong. Someday, maybe, she will be. But not now. Not yet. Right now, Shiki is still weak and depending on the Gojo Clan to protect her, and today she learns that not everyone in the Gojo Clan will protect her.

Somehow, that’s not particularly surprising. Looking up towards Ima-san one last time, Shiki wonders if she should be disappointed. But is it even possible to be disappointed by someone if you’ve never truly expected anything of them from the start?

“… It matters not, Lady Matsuhime. The Kamo Clan will not accept a Clan Head who does not possess a cursed technique. Your efforts are futile, in the end.”

“That is not for you to decide, Elder Shino,” the woman replies loftily. She walks forward until she is directly in front of Shiki, then crouches down in front of her. Close enough that Shiki can easily reach out and touch those shimmering red lines scored across her body if she wanted to, and for a moment Shiki gives serious consideration as to whether or not she should. Unlike Shiroshichi-san, who’d taken one look at Shiki and understood that there was something wrong with her eyes, Matsuhime-sama clearly has no such sense of self-preservation.

The beautiful lady smiles indulgently at her, “Rest assured that you would be treated well in the Kamo Clan, Tobiume child. So long as you support Nobutomo-kun… you understand, don’t you?”

Something in Shiki’s mind clicks and neatly slots into place.

In this instant, the little girl abruptly realizes how to make it perfectly clear that she would be very happy with never visiting the Kamo Clan again in the future.

“No. I don’t understand,” she tilts her head. “Why would I marry someone weaker than me?”

…

The silence in the room that follows is deafening.

.

.

“… You really should’ve known better than to say such a thing, Shiki.”

Outside the car windows, the scenery flashes by in a blur. After Shiki’s careless declaration… suffice to say, the meeting had fallen apart in short order after that. She’s sure that there will be more to the fallout of Kamo Matsuhime’s machinations and the Kamo elders’ plotting that went over her head, but none of that has anything to do with Shiki anymore.

It shouldn’t have had anything to do with her in the first place.

“And you? You said nothing,” Shiki refuses to look at Ima-san. The first words that the woman has spoken since leaving the Kamo clan compound, and it’s to reprimand Shiki for her behavior. She continues staring steadily out the window. “… So I had to. No one else was going to.”

In the passenger’s seat towards the front, Kansuke-san shifts uneasily but offers nothing in his own defense.

“I…” Ima-san’s voice falters. “I’m… sorry, Shiki. There’s nothing that I… with my lacking cursed energy, my abilities, I… there was absolutely nothing that I could’ve possibly resisted with, when Kamo-sama asked and I… What would you have had me do in such a situation, niece of mine?”

Shiki can guess what the woman is referring to. Can only imagine the pressure that Ima-san would’ve been under, facing down Kamo Matsuhime and Gojo Kansuke at the same time. It’s not so surprising that she capitulated to their demands, in the end. But even so, she…

“I don’t know,” the girl finally says. But in her mind she thinks, Kento-ojichan wouldn’t have done something like this. Ever.

… She wants to see Kento-ojichan.

The sudden urge strikes her, and she wants–

“Shiki? Shiki, please listen to me. I really–”

“Please don’t talk to me right now, Ima-san.” Shiki presses her forehead against the cool glass of the car window and closes her eyes.

The rest of the car ride back to the Gojo Clan passes in silence.

Chapter Text

When they departed from the Gojo clan compound in the morning, it had been a quiet affair. Similarly, when they return in the evening, it’s equally quiet –but as soon as they pass through the gates, there is a servant who approaches them. The young woman bows politely and passes on a simple message:

“Daisaku-sama wishes to see you, Kansuke-sama. Ima-sama has been called for as well.”

Ima-san is clearly nervous and fretful as she leaves, though she tries to hide it. On the other hand, Kansuke-san does not show any signs of being unsettled by the impromptu summons at all. But perhaps he had been prepared for this eventuality, given what he’d tried to pull off by taking Shiki to the Kamo Clan.

Would he be punished for what he tried to do? Praised for it? Shiki doesn’t know. She doesn’t know if she can rely on the Gojo Clan. So…

“Kansuke-san.”

It’s the first time that Shiki has addressed the man directly. He pauses mid-stride, then turns around to face her. Like most people these days, he does not hold her gaze for long. But it’s amazing how he can still smile so pleasantly at her, as if there is nothing wrong in the least. And perhaps there isn’t, in his mind. Perhaps from Kansuke-san’s perspective, he was only trying to help Lady Kamo Matsuhime, and that was all that mattered. But even so…

“Ah, Shiki. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No,” she responds. She’s had quite enough of this man’s ‘help,’ she thinks. “… Kansuke-san. There won’t be a second time.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” he says kindly, crouching down to meet her. As if she is a child who doesn’t know any better. The man even smiles at her, a soft expression. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Daisaku-sama is calling, and I really must take my leave–”

Shiki ignores his excuses.

Instead, she simply reaches out her hand. With a single finger, she wordlessly traces the red line winding down the side of his face, crossing over his jugular, ending directly upon his chest.

She doesn’t carve into it. Doesn’t cut. Considers it for a moment, certainly, but doesn’t act upon the impulse. Instead, Shiki merely presses down with her fingertip, feather-light and so very gentle.  

Kansuke-san freezes rigidly at her touch, and this time when he looks at her again, there is a dawning realization in his eyes. Something akin to outright panic. Terror.

“There won’t be a second time,” Shiki repeats quietly, perfectly calm. “Do you understand me?”

“… Y-yes, my lady.”

Shiki doesn’t trust the Gojo Clan to protect her. It’s bad enough that she’s been separated from Kento-ojichan and placed under Ima-san’s custody. Nearly being handed over to the Kamo Clan? It would’ve only been trading one cage for another –except that she doubts that the Kamo Clan’s cage for her would have Satoru-oniichan checking in on her, or any visits from Kento-ojichan.

She doesn’t trust the Gojo Clan to protect her.

So she’ll have to take steps to protect herself.

… Shiki may not have asked for the ability to see deathly red lines wherever she looks, but she finds that she’s not above using this newfound ability to protect herself, even when it’s supposed to only be meant for exorcising curses.

Is she going overboard, threatening Kansuke-san like this? If she stops to think about it… it isn’t as if he actually tried to kill her, or anything. Merely attempted to trade her away to the Kamo Clan, as if she were an object or even less, and his efforts were ultimately unsuccessful in the end. On the other hand, Shiki’s ability literally allowed her to see the death of things. So deliberately threatening Kansuke-san with his own death like this for what he did is… is…

… disproportionate, in terms of a response. Unsuitable? Inappropriate?

But how else does Shiki possibly make a grown-up man like Kansuke-san listen to her and take her seriously? How can she make him stop? … How can she prevent others from acting as Kansuke-san had today in the future?

Shiki doesn’t know. All she knows is that there are no cards in her hands for her to play –Shiki only has her eyes. These cursed eyes that the Gojo Clan is so invested in. To the Gojo Clan, Shiki’s only worth is in these cursed blue eyes.

… She wonders how much Kansuke-san is worth.

Does this make her a bad person? Would Kento-ojichan be upset with her, if he knew that her mind was filled with such thoughts? … It’s a distinct possibility. Would her parents be disappointed in her, if they were still alive?

Shiki doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to know.

(Because in her heart, she already knows the answer.)

.

.

“Shiki!”

The little girl doesn’t quite flinch, but it’s a close thing. As much as she had been looking forward to this moment through the haze of these last few days, she still can’t help the reflexive jolt of fear, shame, that wells up in her chest upon hearing his voice.

“… Kento-ojichan,” she whispers, slowly lowering the wooden training sword clenched tightly in her hands. Shiki misses him. She wants to see him. She doesn’t want him to be here. She wants to hug him. She doesn’t want him to touch her. She wants–

Warm hands gently grasp her by the shoulders, and Kento-ojichan carefully draws her into a gentle hug. For some reason, this is what becomes the final straw for Shiki. She lets her wooden sword clatter to the floorboards, wholly forgotten, as instead her fingers curl themselves into the dark fabric of the young man’s school uniform. The little girl blinks rapidly, eyes watering most inconveniently in this moment.

Why is she crying? She shouldn’t be. There’s no reason for Shiki to cry, not when she hasn’t been hurt, not when anything has even really happened to her, in the end. And yet, in this moment when her uncle drops to his knees and hugs her… somehow, something in her eyes stings inexplicably regardless. As if the emotional impact of everything that’s occurred over these past few days has finally caught up to her, hitting her all at once.

(But still, the tears do nothing to dull the ominous glow of the ever-present red lines that she sees. The entire world remains covered in scarlet lines heralding death.)

For a moment, Kento-ojichan’s arms draw closer around her, as if to reassure himself that Shiki is standing here alive and well. Then, he whirls around accusingly. “You said that she’d be safe!”

“And she still is, isn’t she?” Satoru-oniichan’s voice sounds from the side, unfazed. “Everything worked out just fine in the end.”

"Gojo,” Kento-ojichan growls, frustrated. “That’s not what you–! You said the Gojo Clan would be safe for her!”

Her cousin sighs, dropping the cheerful front. “… Yeah, I did. Rest assured, I’ll be having words with some of my clansmen over this. Ugh.”

Kento-ojichan’s jaw clenches. “She’s only six. How could they…?”

“How could they try to stick a betrothal on her when she’s only a kid?” Satoru-oniichan shrugs. “Unfortunately, most of the jujutsu world is pretty backwards. Some arranged marriages are made at ages as young as, what. Four or five?”

“… Arranged marriages, really? In this day and age?”

“What can I say? The old fogies like their traditional marriage alliances.” The white-haired teen flashes them a sharp, humorless smile. “Should’ve known that there’d be shortsighted idiots who go ahead and try to do stupid things on their own, though. It’s not going to happen again.”

It’s a confident declaration, said with such surety that Shiki wants to believe it. She does, really. But when she’d been standing in the middle of the Kamo clan compound, facing down Kamo Matsuhime-sama on her own, holding her ground even when the older woman’s eyes were alight with cold fury for the insult she’d given…

When things come down to it, only you will be able to protect yourself.

… This time, it was an almost-betrothal against her will. What would it be next? The assassinations that Shiki had been repeatedly warned to expect coming her way?

The little girl bites her tongue.

“I… I still don’t understand,” her young uncle mutters under his breath. “Ima went along with this? I know she’s never been on particularly good terms with our family, but Shiki is her niece. How could she just…?”

“Ima-san was pressured into it,” Shiki offers quietly. It’s not so much an excuse as it is the honest truth of why the woman stood aside without a fight.

Satoru-oniichan clicks his tongue, “Sounds to me like maybe we should think about switching a different guardian for Shiki here. Hah, and the Tobiume have been so proud of themselves lately, too!”

Kento-ojichan frowns, “’Tobiume?’”

“Eh? You don’t know?”

“No.” Kento-ojichan hesitates for a moment, gaze flickering down towards Shiki briefly, “My… my brother-in-law disliked speaking of his family to us. He was never very forthcoming on the topic, we were only aware that he was a member of a branch family in the Gojo Clan.”

“Hmm,” Satoru-oniichan hums consideringly. “Okay, fair enough, I suppose. So, there are multiple lines in the Gojo Clan –the Tobiume lineage is your brother-in-law’s branch of the family, and the one that Shiki technically belongs to by birth. They were actually on the verge of getting their status as one of the named lineages revoked entirely, until Shiki here showed up.”

“Until Shiki…?” The blond teen makes a sound of understanding, “Ah, yes. Her eyes, I take it?”

“Ding ding! Got it in one,” Satoru-oniichan grins humorlessly. “The Tobiume went just a few too many generations without seeing any actual sorcerers. You’d think that would mean they’d know to take good care of the one kid with potential that they have, right?”

A disgruntled look crosses over Kento-ojichan’s face at this. “I’d hope that Ima would care for Shiki because she’s her niece, not because of your clan politics.”

“Really, the best scenario would be both. Best to make sure there’s an incentive for her to be good to Shiki as insurance, yeah?” Satoru-oniichan waves his hand. “Gojo Ima is currently the head of the Tobiume. It would certainly be nice if she cared for the kid because she loved her, but let’s be realistic here–”

“Gojo!”

“It’s fine, Kento-ojichan. He’s right,” Shiki says simply, tugging gently at the dark cuff of Kento-ojichan’s sleeve. It’s… touching, that her uncle immediately tried to head off Satoru-oniichan’s words the instant he realized where they were headed, in an attempt to try and spare her feelings. But that didn’t really matter. After all, Shiki was well aware of Ima-san’s attitude towards her, and why. “I know perfectly well why Ima-san took me from the hospital. Because of my eyes, right? If I didn’t have these eyes, then she wouldn’t have spared a second glance my way. I’ve known that from the start.”

Her voice is soft, her words quiet. Regardless, there’s still something distinctly pained in her uncle’s eyes, as he looks down towards her.

“… It shouldn’t be like this,” he says, and he’s right. It shouldn’t be.

(Shiki should be dead.)

“I’m okay, Kento-ojichan,” Shiki smiles. Or tries to, at least, hurriedly wiping away at her still-watery eyes. “I… I’m sorry for crying. It’s not… it wasn’t even scary. I was never in any danger the entire time. But I still… I just…”

Her tongue ties itself into knots. Why is she crying?

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kento-ojichan sighs quietly. “If anything, I should be the one who’s sorry. I know it’s been hard for you, all this time.”

… Has it been hard for her? Ever since coming to live with the Gojo Clan, Shiki has had her every need taken care of. Food, clothes, education… even if the education involves learning how to wield a sword and use cursed energy. But that’s because the Gojo Clan trains sorcerers, and one day Shiki will be a sorcerer just like Kento-ojichan. And so the Gojo Clan trains her. Takes care of her. There shouldn’t be anything for Shiki to complain about, and yet…

And yet, what is this feeling in her chest? Something tight, twisting. A sensation of being helpless, wronged, even though there shouldn’t be anything for Shiki to truly be upset over. After all, she’s perfectly fine, isn’t she? And Gojo Kansuke wouldn’t try something like this again. She’d warned him off–

… She’d warned him off by threatening to kill him.

“Shiki?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers automatically, reflexively. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I wasn’t… I just needed Kansuke-san to listen to me.”

Kento-ojichan appears confused by her sudden incoherence. Satoru-oniichan, on the other hand, seems to understand exactly what she’s trying to articulate, and merely nods before asking a single question.

“Is there a body that we need to hide?”

“Wait, what?” Kento-ojichan straightens, alarmed.

“No!” Shiki jolts and shakes her head rapidly. “I didn’t use my technique to kill anyone!”

“What?”

… Actually wait, no, that’s not right. She’d used her technique to kill that cat-curse, hadn’t she? No, no, curses didn’t count as people! Technically she still didn’t kill anyone!

“Oh? Is that hesitation I see?” Satoru-oniichan snaps his fingers, “Don’t worry, I promise it’s fine if you did! Your favorite cousin will make sure it’s just passed off as an accident–”

“Hold on just a minute here,” Kento-ojichan grits out. “What’s this about killing? Didn’t you say that she wasn’t in any danger?!”

“I wasn’t! There wasn’t any danger!” Shiki tries to explain. “It was just a curse–”

Her uncle whirls on her cousin with a thunderous expression. “She exorcised a curse?”

Satoru-oniichan smiles disarmingly in response.

“Gojo, you absolute–”

“Kento-ojichan, it’s fine! It was a weak curse, it just looked really big,” Shiki tugs at his sleeve, attempting to draw her uncle’s attention back to her so she can finish explaining. “It’s not the first one I’ve killed! The stronger ones usually have this sort of heavy pressure to them, and this one wasn’t like that at all–”

The blond teen holds up a single hand in a clear sign for stop, looking increasingly upset for some reason. “Shiki. Are you saying that the Gojo Clan has been having you exorcise curses already?”

The little girl blinks. Is that a trick question?

“… Yes?” Shiki hesitates. “Kento-ojichan, isn’t… isn’t that what my eyes are supposed to be for?”

Kento-ojichan nods calmly. Then, he turns towards Satoru-oniichan, “And just when were you going to tell me this?”

Her cousin blinks, nonplussed. “You’re overreacting, Nanami. Yes, the clan has asked her to kill curses, but that was more for the sake of determining the specifics and limitations of her technique. Testing her eyes. So far, it seems that she doesn’t have any trouble seeing lines on curses up to Grade Two. We still haven’t exactly had the opportunity to test out a Grade One or Special Grade yet –kidding, kidding! Geez, get that scary look off of your face.”

If looks could kill, Satoru-oniichan would already be six feet under. “This isn’t a joking matter, Gojo. It doesn’t matter that she has some rare ocular jujutsu, she’s still only six! I didn’t put up a fight because you said your clan would take care of Shiki. But it’s barely been a month, and she’s been exorcising curses and nearly sold off into an arranged marriage. How can you possibly expect me to be alright with any of that?!”

Kento-ojichan sounds… uncharacteristically angry, and it makes Shiki vaguely uneasy. Unsettled. She’s not used to seeing her calm, level-headed uncle like this. She doesn’t quite understand his anger, either, although she understands enough to know that it’s not aimed at her, thankfully.

Luckily, it seems that Satoru-oniichan knows how to handle the situation.

“Okay, so, first of all,” her white-haired cousin raises a finger, “Like I’ve mentioned before. Exposing her to curses of varying levels was a reasonable test to determine if the grade of a curse affects her technique or not. This was done under a controlled environment, with the clan’s other sorcerers present to subdue the curse in question. The clan isn’t going to risk a new ocular jujutsu, trust me. At no point was she under any real danger.”

Satoru-oniichan pauses for a moment. “Yes, sometimes the clan will make you fight curses as part of your training, but that’s usually way later down the line. Shiki here shouldn’t have had to fight and exorcise her first curse until at least a few more months of training… although that might be subject to change now, since she just KO’d a Semi-Grade Three Curse on her own the other day without a scratch.”

At that, Kento-ojichan glances quickly towards her, eyes wide. “You… you exorcised a Semi-Grade Three?”

Shiki shrugs noncommittally. She hadn’t known what grade the cat-curse was when she’d killed it. It sounds about right, though.

Satoru-oniichan raises a second finger and continues, “Secondly. Nanami-kun, my adorable little kouhai. Even if you put up a fight, you’re still not going to be able to get custody of Shiki from the Gojo Clan. I think we all know why that’s not very likely. But… the mess with the Kamo Clan is definitely something that shouldn’t have happened. There are no excuses for that. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, and it certainly won’t happen again.”

Kento-ojichan’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists at his sides. Concerned, Shiki reaches out to take one of his hands with her own, carefully avoiding the prominent glow of eerie red lines as she does so. There’s something in Kento-ojichan’s countenance that softens at her touch, although there’s no hiding the frustration in his eyes.

“I… I know there’s nothing I can feasibly do,” the young teen hangs his head. “Damn it all, I just–”

“Language!” Satoru-oniichan sing-songs loudly.

Kento-ojichan lets out an explosive exhale and raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “… My apologies. It’s… maddening, knowing that things like this are happening to Shiki and I can’t do anything about it. I...”

“Right, and this is where your favorite senpai here comes in!” Her cousin stretches himself lazily, like a cat. “So, I’m thinking that going forward we’ll have to make it a little more obvious that messing with Shiki here is going to be a Bad Idea, yes? Wanna start with hiding Kansuke’s body?”

“… There’s no body to hide,” Shiki replies after a stilted pause, finally recognizing her cousin’s teasing for what it is. “I wouldn’t cut Kansuke-san’s lines for what he did, it’s not… I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. But you did do something to Kansuke, right?” Satoru-oniichan props a hand under his chin. “C’mon, spill. I know most of my clansmen think Old Daisaku is scary, but he’s not that scary. I hear that he literally hasn’t left his house since returning from the Kamo Clan and getting chewed out for what he did. Care to explain?”

Shiki shifts uneasily, doing her best not to look at Kento-ojichan. “I… I told Kansuke-san that there wouldn’t be a second time.”

“And…?” Satoru-oniichan coaxes leadingly.

“And… I…” Why are the words fumbling over themselves on her tongue right now? Shiki certainly hadn’t had a problem with going ahead and threatening Kansuke-san at the time, had she? So why are these words so hard to say, in this moment? “I traced the lines on him. Just a little bit! And I didn’t cut him at all, I just… I needed to make sure that he listened.”

“Huh,” Satoru-oniichan raises a hand to his chin, a thoughtful pose. “Okay, yeah, in that case I see why he’d want to lay low for a while, then.”

Kento-ojichan frowns, “… I get the feeling that I’m missing something here.”

“Eh?” Satoru-oniichan tilts his head. “Nah, just admiring Shiki’s self-control. Good thing, too. It’d probably be a little harder to get the elders to cooperate with us if we have to do it in wake of a funeral.”

“A fune-… Gojo. What are you implying?”

Ah, that’s right. That’s… right. Kento-ojichan still doesn’t… Shiki had never filled him in on the particular details regarding her technique. Her eyes. The red lines represent death. She’d been scared of the implications of such a thing, and even though she’d been able to talk things through with Satoru-oniichan the other day, she hadn’t had a chance to broach the topic with Kento-ojichan yet. And now Kento-ojichan was looking at her with an expression of faint alarm, but underneath that alarm was concern, and Shiki–

“My technique,” she says haltingly. Satoru-oniichan’s words drift across the forefront of her mind. Nanami isn't the type of person who'd turn his back on you or treat you differently just for something like a dangerous technique. “It’s not… it’s not exactly what the elders are saying. The lines, they’re not like your Ratio Technique, Kento-ojichan. They…”

Say it. Just say it!

“They represent death,” Shiki finally manages to get out. Even though she’s quietly acknowledged this in her mind, somehow, saying it aloud like this makes everything feel more… real. It’s rather daunting, to say the least. “It’s not just manifesting a weakness that can be physically struck and broken. Anything that’s cut along the lines… dies.”

Beginning and end, open and close. Despite appearances, the lines don’t actually represent an object’s flaws and imperfections, contrary to what the clan’s elders have proclaimed. There’s more to the red lines than that, Shiki knows this. Death, expressed as scarlet lines.

“Death…?” A quiet intake of breath. Kento-ojichan reaches out to her with a hesitant hand, a hand split neatly in half by a crimson line, and it’s all Shiki can do to keep herself still as her uncle… draws her into a hug again?

Why?

“… Kento-ojichan?” Shiki asks tentatively, confused. She gets a pat on the shoulder, before Kento-ojichan turns towards Satoru-oniichan once more.

“You’re certain of this?”

“Well, even if that’s not precisely what her technique is, it’s still close enough that the end result of her technique is effectively the same thing,” her cousin responds, tapping lightly at the edge of his dark sunglasses for emphasis. Right, his Six Eyes are sharp enough to observe details easily overlooked by others. “They might look similar on the surface, but it really is an entirely different beast compared to your Ratio Technique, Nanami-kun.”

Kento-ojichan nods. Then, his attention returns to Shiki. “Does it hurt?”

Does it hurt?

Shiki pauses, startled. It’s –it’s the first time she’s been asked this sort of question, regarding her technique. Kento-ojichan’s first concern isn’t ‘ What are the limitations of her ability,’ nor is it ‘How should we maximize her combat effectiveness.’

Does it hurt, Kento-ojichan asks her, and Shiki is struck by the sudden urge to start crying again.

She doesn’t, of course. Crying means that there’s something wrong, and –and there’s nothing wrong wrong, so Shiki rubs desperately at her eyes and determinedly tries not to sniffle. Kento-ojichan already has enough to worry about on his plate, between his studies and the looming pressure from the Gojo Clan. The last thing he needs is to be worrying about Shiki on top of all of this, too.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she tells him. Her voice trembles lightly, shaking, but Shiki clears her throat and tries to steady her words. It’s not a lie, not really. Yes, sometimes she has a bit of a mild headache from seeing all the lines and it’s hard to focus, but it’s really nothing. Breathe. Be calm. You don’t want Kento-ojichan to worry, right?

“That’s good,” Kento-ojichan says quietly. “I… I can’t even imagine what it would be like, seeing something like this all the time. And you said that you see them on everything, too?”

Shiki nods mutely.

Her uncle sighs, a heavy sound. For a moment Shiki wonders if he’s going to be like the tutors she’s had, who alternate between preaching to her that all life is precious, and telling her to use her technique to kill all curses. She wonders if he’s going to tell her that what she did to Gojo Kansuke was wrong. If he’s going to–

“Promise me you’ll be careful?”

Oh.

Oh, that’s…

Kento-ojichan smiles a little wryly at her, as if he has already guessed the general direction of Shiki’s thoughts. “You have a good heart, Shiki. Just… keep in mind that your technique isn’t one that has room for any regrets, so… be careful, please. Promise me that, will you?”

Shiki is silent for a moment. “That day, after coming back from the Kamo Clan. I… could’ve killed Kansuke-san.”

“Yes,” her uncle responds patiently. Steady, calm, and with no trace of any judgment. “But you didn’t, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.” The little girl pauses. “I wasn’t really going to cut his lines. But… I thought about it, at the time. And… not just Kansuke-san, either. I’ve thought about it for other things, too. Objects, people. Not just curses. That’s… bad, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Satoru-oniichan comments breezily from the side. “Pretty sure Nanami here has half a mind to murder Kansuke himself–”

“Gojo, you’re not helping,” Kento-ojichan slants an irritated look at the older teen. Satoru-oniichan raises his hands harmlessly in a clear gesture of surrender, still smiling. The blond teen shakes his head, then turns back towards the young girl staring up at him, “Shiki. Having such thoughts is one thing; acting upon them is another. That you can recognize it yourself if it’s right or wrong for you to use your technique… remember that feeling.”

The little girl nods silently.

“But,” Kento-ojichan continues quietly, a note of something much more grave to the cadence of his next words, “If… if there ever comes a day when you find yourself in a dire situation, if it’s you or the other person… Shiki. Promise me that you’ll live.”

Promise me that you’ll be careful. Promise me that you’ll live.

By all rights, Shiki should be dead, just like her parents. She should be dead. But Kento-ojichan is hugging her, telling her to be careful and to live, and… really, there is only one response that Shiki can give to him.

“I promise, Kento-ojichan,” she says softly.

Shiki’s technique is, at its core, the ability to kill things. To kill anything she sees. There’s no middle ground, no in-between. Anything that’s cut along the glowing red lines, dies. 

Her technique makes killing easy, but something deep inside her still recognizes that killing really shouldn’t be as easy as it is. This realization wars against her burgeoning instincts, but even though it makes everything so confusing, Shiki also knows that this isn't something she can compromise on. Kento-ojichan has said as much, just now. And Shiki… Shiki doesn’t want to disappoint him. So… 

“I promise.”

Chapter Text

It takes another week, in wake of Shiki’s return from the Kamo Clan. But eventually, a consensus is reached regarding the entire incident:

“For dereliction of duty, Gojo Ima will no longer remain as the guardian of Gojo Shiki.”

The words are delivered lightly, without any particular tone or inflection. But beside the young girl, Ima-san’s frame is visibly trembling, and it’s clear that the woman is unhappy with the ultimate verdict reached by the clan’s elders. Her mouth opens in protest, but any objections are promptly silenced as the messenger speaks again.

“You failed to properly care for your charge. You allowed her to leave the compound without verifying anything prior, and you nearly allowed a new technique to fall into the Kamo Clan’s hands.”

“I… am aware of my failings, regarding this matter,” Ima-san grimaces and bows her head, hands clenched into fists at her sides. “But please, Shiki is Arata’s daughter! No matter what, I would humbly request that this decision be reconsidered. Surely the child shouldn’t be separated from her blood–”

“Before anything else, the girl is a daughter of the Gojo Clan,” the man interrupts impassively, looking almost bored. “… And it’s a bit too late to be playing that card, Ima. If I recall correctly, you only ever visited your brother’s family once, after he married and left the Gojo name behind.”

Ima-san flushes as she draws back, her cheeks an ugly color. “Arata chose to discard the clan name willingly. How could I possibly have–”

“Clan name or no, he was still your brother.” Brown eyes narrow coldly, regarding the trembling woman in a manner that’s almost… disdainful. His voice drops lower, dangerously soft. “You may have taken it upon yourself to care for his daughter in wake of his passing, but it’s clear to anyone with eyes that you see her more as a tool than her own person. They elders may not have cared for it so long as the girl was properly looked after, but then you went and proved your incompetence in spades.”

“How dare you!” There is a tight fury in Ima-san’s voice as she glares at the brown-haired man. “Gojo Jihei. What gives you the right to say such things to me? All this time, I’ve been caring for the girl and–”

“And it’s the least you could’ve done in the first place.” Jihei-san counters, cutting her off easily. “Ima, you had only one job, and it was to take care of your niece. Arata would be rolling in his grave if he knew what you’ve been doing. The Kamo Clan, really? What on earth were you thinking?”

Ima-san’s lips thin into a severe expression. “Kansuke-sama was the one who approached me. You speak as if I had a choice in the matter.”

There’s a hollow ring of something undeniably bitter to those words, but Jihei-san shakes his head.

“There’s always a choice, Ima,” he sighs tiredly. “Had you bothered to check with anyone or simply even make a report to Daisaku-sama before heading out with Kansuke-san, this debacle could’ve been avoided entirely. Can you really look me in the eyes and say that you had the girl’s best interests at heart here? … Or did you simply see a rare opportunity for the Tobiume to one-up the other branch houses, and decide to seize this chance to build connections with the Kamo Clan through Kansuke-san’s introduction?”

The silence following those pointed questions is telling.

“… You were too hasty. I know that the Tobiume have been in a difficult position, and that you’ve always worked tirelessly to improve your line’s standing within the clan. But when you became responsible for the child Arata left behind, you should’ve known better than to mix up your priorities like this.”

Ima-san looks away stiffly, “I don’t need you lecturing me on how to act.”

“Really? Someone needs to remind you of these things, certainly,” the man responds. “… And seeing as how you’ve cowed your entire line into submission after taking in your niece, I suppose that task now falls to me. I can’t say I’m impressed, Ima.”

For a long moment, Ima-san does not reply to his words. Her gaze briefly flickers towards Shiki, something strangely torn in her expression, before it shutters away into a mask of cold, unmoving calm. She turns back to Jihei-san.

“… Is there truly no changing the elders’ minds?”

“On the matter of your niece being transferred to another household?” The man shakes his head decisively. “No, I’m afraid not. Kansuke-san’s plans may have fallen through in the end, but the elders are still… displeased, that things were able to progress as far as they did in the first place. And you enabled that, Ima.”

The woman frowns, “I enabled nothing.”

“Your inaction itself was enablement enough,” Jihei-san cuts her a sharp look. “You should know the kind of attention that the child is receiving! A new ocular curse… how could you possibly think that the elders would risk her leaving the compound with so little protection, as untrained as she is?”

“I did not think…” Ima-san trails off helplessly, wringing her hands. “It was the Kamo Clan.”

Jihei-san clicks his tongue. “The Kamo Clan has their own internal issues to be resolving, as of late. You should’ve realized that there was something amiss the moment you saw that it was a personal invitation from Lady Kamo Matsuhime, delivered by Gojo Kansuke.”

“What’s even the point of saying all this now?” The woman laughs, a bitter sound. “… The elders won’t allow me to keep the girl anymore. All these years, all that I’ve done for the Tobiume, and now this…”

“… If that’s all you can take away from this conversation, then there truly is no hope for you.” Gojo Jihei gives the woman a complicated look that’s part pity and part scorn, before clearing his expression as he turns towards Shiki. The man is polite enough about it, even if he only meets her eyes briefly before subtly diverting his gaze to the side.

“I am Gojo Jihei, aide to Daisaku-sama,” he proceeds to sketch a brief, courteous bow. “… It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, although I regret that it was not under better circumstances.”

Shiki offers a slight bow of her own in return. “It’s a pleasure, Jihei-san.”

Is she happy to be leaving Ima-san? If she thinks about it… yes. Yes, she is. Shiki holds no love for Ima-san. But for some reason, it still doesn’t feel like victory in the least, even if there is a sense of vindication to it all.

“Shiki,” Ima-san calls softly. The little girl looks towards her aunt silently. “I… visit me sometime, will you?”

Even if this is a request born of selfishness, despite all her faults… there’s something strangely vulnerable and conflicted in Ima-san’s expression, in this moment. Regretful, almost. 

However, Shiki is not moved by her aunt’s piteous air in the least. While she does not hate the woman, she certainly does not harbor any kind feelings towards her, either, knowing what the woman is like at her core. Shiki can’t say that she’s pleased by Ima-san’s attitude towards her –that Shiki is only a valuable asset to be taken advantage of– but she supposes that she should be grateful that Ima-san didn’t try to hide her motivations, at least. Not like Kansuke-san, who masked everything beneath a calm smile.

Shiki doesn’t bother responding to Ima-san. Instead, she simply turns her attention to Jihei-san, who waits patiently to the side. “Who have I been reassigned to?”

“Gojo Kiyohira will be your new caretaker,” the man responds. “He is the clan’s most talented swordsmen, and a skilled sorcerer. The elders believe that he will be a fine mentor for you.”

‘Gojo Kiyohira’ sounds like a vaguely familiar name. Shiki feels like she’s probably heard one of her tutors and trainers mention him at some point, although she can’t quite recall just what was said about him, exactly. Shiki doesn’t know if living with Kiyohira-san will prove to be any better than living with Ima-san. She certainly hopes so, but the little girl is sharp enough to catch the implication in Jihei-san’s words. The elders believe that he will be a fine mentor for you.  

So she’ll be living with one of her instructors from now on, then. One who will most certainly want to train Shiki to become a strong sorcerer in the future for her ‘potential.’ Because of her eyes.

… It all comes back to her eyes, doesn’t it. 

“Please allow me to guide you to your new dwellings, Shiki.” Jihei-san says politely. But it’s clear that his words are not so much a request as they are a statement, a command. A command from the Gojo elders, who’ve deemed Gojo Ima unfit to care for her niece any longer in wake of the incident with the Kamo Clan.

(… They’re not wrong, really.)

“Shiki!”

The little girl pauses at the call of her name, halfway towards reaching Jihei-san at the gateway. 

Ima-san…

“Good-bye,” is all she finally says to her aunt, in the end. She steadfastly refuses to turn around.  “… Take care.”

Is it cold of her, to respond like this? … Perhaps. But Shiki doesn’t think that she’s wrong in reacting this way. If anything, she should be perfectly justified in how she feels, considering all that Gojo Ima had done.

Good-bye, Ima-san.

Shiki continues walking forward without a single backwards glance.

.

.

Gojo Kiyohira turns out to be a tall, well-muscled man, who has a permanent scowl etched upon his face as deeply as the eerie red lines scored into his body. He grunts and squints at Shiki like a grouchy, grizzled bear when Jihei-san introduces them. There is a beat of stilted silence in wake of Jihei-san’s immediate departure when they stare wordlessly at each other, a towering mountain of a middle aged man standing above a tiny slip of a young girl. But it passes, and Kiyohira-san eventually turns on his heel to slowly amble his way back inside his home.

… Leaving Shiki standing alone at the doorway by herself.

The little girl blinks.

Well. That’s new, she thinks. It would be a stretch to say that Shiki is well-liked by all the tutors that the Gojo Clan has arranged for her, but never have any of them been openly dismissive of her like this, either. They’ve all been varying degrees of polite and respectful, for the most part. Kiyohira-san’s attitude, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. If Shiki had to take a guess, it was almost as if he–

“Well? What are you still dithering around for? Waiting for someone to hold your hand and lead you inside like a little princess?” Kiyohira-san’s voice suddenly sounds, loud and booming. A slight scoff finishes off his words at the end. “Listen, the elders may have ordered me to take you on, but don’t think that means anything. Find a spare room and settle yourself in. The dojo is underground; your training starts at six.”

There’s the faint sound of heavy footsteps receding somewhere down the hallway, quickly fading into silence. Clearly, the man hadn’t bothered to linger around for a response to his words. 

For a wild moment, Shiki wonders what would happen if she just turned around on his doorstep and walked away. Surely no one would blame her if she did, considering Kiyohira-san’s less-than-friendly attitude?

Jihei-san’s words float across her mind again. Gojo Kiyohira is the clan’s most talented swordsmen, and a skilled sorcerer. 

Shiki… does not particularly care much for exorcising curses, truth be told. She hadn’t even chosen to be a sorcerer out of her own volition in the first place. In fact, Shiki hadn’t had any choice in this matter at all, not with being whisked away from the hospital by Gojo Ima the instant that she’d woken up with cursed blue eyes.

But. 

But, it’s not like she has any other options. The Gojo Clan will not accept anything else out of her. Her technique is literally the ability to kill, and while Shiki might be a child who doesn’t understand much of what’s going around her, it doesn’t take a genius to see that such a technique would be very useful in exorcising curses. The girl has potential, she’d heard multiple elders saying on more than one occasion, not even bothering to hide their words from her. It’s not the Six Eyes, but if developed well and honed correctly, then it could become a powerful technique in its own right. The potential is there.

And, more importantly–

Kento-ojichan.

Kento-ojichan is training to be a sorcerer, at the jujutsu school. He’s training to be a sorcerer. And being a sorcerer means fighting curses in order to save people, and that’s dangerous. Kento-ojichan is training and fighting curses and he can’t even fully focus on that, because he’s also worrying about Shiki, even well before the Kamo Clan incident. Especially after the Kamo Clan incident.

If Shiki was stronger, then this wouldn’t be an issue. 

If Shiki was strong. If she was strong, strong like Satoru-oniichan, then Kansuke-san wouldn’t have dared trying to pull what he did. Ima-san would not have been able to control any of Shiki’s actions. From the very start, her parents wouldn’t be dead.

Shiki lacks strength. She’s acutely aware of this now.

… If Shiki can become strong, then Kento-ojichan wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. And, and she would be able to protect Kento-ojichan in the future, too. Right? That’s how things work, isn’t it? So if Kiyohira-san can help her become strong, then it doesn’t matter if he likes Shiki or not. It doesn’t matter if he’s mean or nice. If he can train her to become strong… then… 

Shiki straightens. Exhales. Without any room for doubt, she squares her shoulders and steps inside Kiyohira-san’s home.

And thus her training with Gojo Kiyohira begins, on an entirely different level of intensity compared to what she had grown used to.

Shiki quickly discovers that her first impression of Kiyohira-san is both accurate and not. The man seems to be perpetually grouchy, with a temper that’s easily irritable. It’s clear that he’s not particularly pleased to be saddled with a child, special eyes or not, given that he can never stand to be in the same room as her outside of training. And during training, Kiyohira-san doesn’t hesitate in raising his voice towards Shiki whenever she makes a mistake with her sword forms. Nor is he above mercilessly hitting her with his own wooden blade during sparring practice.

The first time that had happened, Shiki had been shocked by the pain blooming across her arms and ended up freezing and dropping her own blade –to which Kiyohira-san had responded by striking her so hard in the side that she’d had ugly bruising spread over her ribcage for weeks in the aftermath, and then proceeded to deliver the most spectacular scolding that she’d ever received to date.

"YOU! DO NOT! DROP! YOUR! SWORD!” The man roars at her, red-faced in rage. Shiki can only watch on with wide, watering eyes, curled in pain on the floorboards of the dojo. “Dead, dead, DEAD! If you drop your weapon in battle, you will die. Might as well serve yourself up to the curses on a silver platter like this! Idiot! Imbecile! Do it again and I’ll kick you out of my dojo permanently, y’hear?!”

The words are cruel and stinging. The pain is poignant and real, but Shiki grits her teeth regardless and rises to her feet again. You need to become strong. The only freedom is in strength.  

“Yes, Kiyohira-san,” she says.

The man pauses. For the first time, there’s a flicker of something appraising and approving in his eyes –but that might just be her imagination, given that the man’s lips curl into a deep scowl in a heartbeat. “… That’s Kiyohira- sensei, girl.”

All training sessions with Kiyohira-sensei are painful. Shiki is soon constantly covered in cuts and bruises, after coming to live with Kiyohira-sensei. The majority of her days are filled with endless training, repeatedly swinging a wooden sword and being thrown around the training hall by her ill-tempered sensei. Her hands are constantly bandaged and bloody, but Shiki does her best to ignore it all and never complains. If you don’t like how I teach things, then you can just scram and never come back!

Other lessons aside from swordplay are held during the afternoons. Sometimes the lessons are on regular subjects, like mathematics and literature, but the majority tend to be a little more… esoteric. How to manipulate cursed energy. Elementary shikigami summoning. Meditation. Seals.

Unlike Ima-san, Kiyohira-sensei does not keep any servants around his home. There are servants who come by to deliver meals each day, to drop off any requested materials or medicine or to take care of laundry, but aside from that it’s only Shiki and Kiyohira-sensei in here by themselves.

… It’s not so bad. While it’s certainly not as comfortable to live with Kiyohira-sensei as Ima-san, at least Kiyohira-sensei doesn’t look at Shiki like she’s more of a tool than a person, even despite his rough edges.

There are bad days, though. Days when everything hurts, hurts, hurts, overwhelmingly so, and Shiki wonders to herself if this is really worth it. Wonders if it’s really right to silently grit her teeth and bear this pain, in the name of training. On days like these, her gaze will linger longer on the red lines scarring Kiyohira-sensei. Both of them know a simple truth: That if Shiki ever cuts along those lines, then Kiyohira-sensei will never be able to hurt her again.

… Shiki knows better than to act upon her impulses thoughtlessly, of course. She’d promised Kento-ojichan that she would be careful with her ability, didn’t she? But sometimes, she still wonders. 

She never acts upon it, though, so it’s harmless enough. Probably.

Let it not be said that Kiyohira-sensei is not a cautious man: He only ever allows Shiki to hold blunt training swords in his home. Shiki’s nails are always cut short, and she is only permitted to tie her hair back with a long strip of cloth. She has not seen a hairpin or anything of the like in ages.

But even so, despite all his caution in dealing with his young, dangerous charge… it wasn’t Shiki that Kiyohira-sensei should’ve been wary of.

This becomes evident the first time that Satoru-oniichan drops by to visit her in Kiyohira-sensei’s home, unannounced.

It had all happened far, far too quickly. One moment, her white-haired cousin had been standing by the doorway, cheerful and smiling. In the next, his expression shuttered, and suddenly he was right next to Shiki, one hand reaching out to grab her arm. Without a word, he roughly rolls up the long sleeve of her kimono.

“S-Satoru-oniichan?”

Startled, Shiki instinctively tries to withdraw her arm from his grip, but Satoru-oniichan doesn’t let her. He doesn’t hurt her, his hold on her arm loose but firm. Still, there’s nothing Shiki can do as her bare arm is promptly exposed beneath her cousin’s gaze. There’s no hiding the ugly, mottled yellow-black bruises decorating her forearms, new injuries scattered directly atop the old. The bandages wrapped tightly over her hands are still faintly red with blood.

“… What’s going on here?” Satoru-oniichan asks, deliberately calm in a way that’s downright unsettling, because Shiki has never heard her cousin speak in this particular tone of voice before. 

At this moment, Kiyohira-sensei finally rounds the corner of the hallway. “Satoru-sama? You… you shouldn’t be here. If I recall correctly, the elders have not yet given permission for anyone to–”

Her cousin looks up and flings out his arm; instantly, Kiyohira-sensei is thrown off of his feet by some invisible force. The burly man slams into the wall –no, is bodily thrown through the wall– and there is a massive crash from the destructive impact. 

… It’s the first time she’s seen Satoru-oniichan use his cursed technique, and Shiki can’t help but openly stare a little bit. 

“That wasn’t what I asked,” her cousin says pleasantly. “Now, what the hell is going on here?”

The last few syllables are punctuated by another sharp gesture with his hand. Kiyohira-sensei’s eyes widen and the man immediately moves, nimbly flipping himself up and out of the small crater that had formed where he landed. It’s not a second too soon, given that the rubble behind him literally twists and explodes.

If Kiyohira-sensei hadn’t moved when he did, he would’ve lost his right arm instantly.

… His… right arm. Satoru-oniichan is still holding onto Shiki’s right arm, in this moment. Shiki is unsure of what to make of this connection. Is it bad that it makes a part of her feel quietly happy, somehow?

“Satoru-sama, you need to calm down–”

Kiyohira-sensei ducks. Above his head, a light fixture shatters.

“I thought I made it clear enough last time that Shiki is under my protection,” Satoru-oniichan says flatly. “What, are the elders so desperate for a shiny new weapon that everything I say is worthless now?”

Kiyohira-sensei darts along the corridor. A heartbeat later behind him, every single window breaks.

“Satoru-oniichan,” Shiki tugs at her cousin’s sleeve a little urgently. It hasn’t even been five minutes, and already the house is looking like it’s about to fall apart. Are these bruises really such a big deal? “Satoru-oniichan, it’s fine. It’s only training–”

“It’s overkill, is what it is,” Satoru-oniichan clicks his tongue in irritation, eyes still trained on Kiyohira-sensei’s fumbling. “Oi, are you really training her, or just using her as your personal sandbag? ‘Cuz I could use a new sandbag too, get what I’m saying here?”

It’s amazing, truth be told. This entire time, Satoru-oniichan hasn’t moved a single step –but Kiyohira-sensei is injured and bleeding, always forced on the run lest Satoru-oniichan’s technique tear him to pieces. Limitless. The ability to manipulate and distort space at will, through the actualization of “infinity.”

… Not that this is really the time or place to be admiring her cousin’s cursed technique! Shiki tugs again, this time a little more insistently. “Satoru-oniichan, please don’t kill Kiyohira-sensei. Jihei-san said that he’s the Gojo Clan’s best swordsman. I still need him to teach me kendo.”

“Your self-restraint is amazing,” her cousin says dryly. “Also, no. I get that you haven’t realized it yet, but there’s a difference between training and outright abuse, okay? I’ll find you a better teacher if you want to keep learning kendo–”

“No pain, no gain, Satoru-sama,” Kiyohira-sensei cuts in with a bloody smile. “What, you think I like beating up a kid for fun? But the more she grows accustomed to pain now, the less she’ll be hindered by it in the future. Think of it as an investment.”

“Investment?! Look, even when I was six–”

“She’s different from you, Satoru-sama,” the man interrupts brusquely, shaking his head. “I know that you sympathize with the girl for her ocular curse. But she’s not you, Satoru-sama. Your eyes may be similar, but your techniques are fundamentally different in nature. And so your training must differ from each other as well, in order for both of you to reach your full potential.”

“Hah?” Satoru-oniichan raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

Kiyohira-sensei straightens slowly out of his defensive stance, now that he is being given a chance to speak. “… When it comes to Limitless, mastery of the technique is important. Power and control. Training the technique takes precedence over any development in physical disciplines. For Shiki’s ‘Fragility,’ the opposite is true. Her technique revolves around her being able to strike at the lines that she sees. It’s essential that she trains her body so that she is able to utilize her technique effectively.”

“… Are you for real?” Satoru-oniichan raises Shiki’s arm from where he’s still holding her. The little girl gets the feeling that if it weren’t for Satoru-oniichan trying to be careful and not aggravate her injuries, he’d be shaking her for emphasis, too. “Look at her. Minor injuries from physical training is normal, but this? This crosses the line. Do you want her to be crippled before she even steps onto the field? ‘Cuz I gotta say, you’re well on your way towards achieving that goal.”

“You exaggerate, Satoru-sama,” Kiyohira-sensei’s lips twitch, as if he is about to scowl –but apparently thinks better of it, going by Satoru-oniichan’s darkening expression. “… She can take it. I haven’t even heard any complaints from the girl herself–”

“Because she doesn’t know any better, obviously! You seriously think she’s familiar enough with physical training to recognize her own limits? She’s six, and only just started training. She grew up outside the clan!” Satoru-oniichan shakes his head, obviously disgusted.

For some reason, this actually gives Kiyohira-sensei pause. 

The man’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Then, haltingly, as if he’s been thrown for an unexpected loop, “She’s… she’s an out-clan child with no training? But… she… she bears the family name!”

“… Are you serious?” Satoru-oniichan gives the older man an incredulous look. “The kid’s dad left the clan after getting married, and her aunt brought her back in after she awakened her technique. It’s been the talk of the clan for months. You should know this! I’m barely even in the compound anymore, and I still know what’s going on!”

The mountainous man’s brows furrow deeply in consternation as he frowns, one hand coming up to rest at his chin. “I… I only knew that the child with the new ocular curse was born of the Tobiume line. The Tobiume haven’t seen any sorcerers in their household for ages, so I assumed that was the reason why her basics were so lacking…”

“That’s your excuse?” Her cousin smiles. It’s not a very nice expression. “Bzzt, try again. Didn’t the elders explain things to you, when they brought Shiki here?”

Kiyohira-sensei coughs. In all the days that she’s known the man, this is the first time that Shiki has seen him acting so awkwardly. Even Satoru-oniichan’s impromptu attack earlier hadn’t seen him floundering and flat-footed like this.

“… I may not have been paying attention to what Jihei was saying,” Kiyohira-sensei finally admits, his voice slightly strangled. “Wasn’t… wasn’t going to give the girl any special treatment, cursed eyes or not.”

Satoru-oniichan cracks his knuckles. Not menacingly, but it would be a lie to say that the motion is entirely unthreatening. “Looks like you’re an even bigger failure of a teacher than I thought.”

Kiyohira-sensei jerks up, “Satoru-sama, I–”

The teenager curls his fingers, cutting off the older man’s words. Another section of the house instantly implodes.

Honestly, it’s a miracle –and probably a testament to his own skills– that Kiyohira-sensei is still alive at the end of it all, if profusely injured. By the time other clan members finally arrive on the scene, Kiyohira-sensei’s home has been reduced to rubble, quite literally. Daisaku-sama is present as well, and the elderly man is visibly displeased… although it’s unclear whether his ire is aimed towards Satoru-oniichan or Kiyohira-sensei.

Things change a little bit, after that. 

Kiyohira-sensei never apologizes, but he doesn’t leave as many injuries on Shiki during training anymore. She can also see the man visibly biting his tongue sometimes, too, instead of spitting out scathing words as they come to mind.

Unexpectedly, he also gives her his share of sakuramochi one day when they sit down for lunch together. Shiki blinks at the extra rice cake on her plate, then slowly looks up.

“… I don’t like sweets,” she informs him, faintly bewildered.

“Just eat your food,” Kiyohira-sensei fires back grumpily. Shiki returns his share of sakuramochi to him silently. Then, after a brief moment of thought, quietly adds her share of sakuramochi to his plate, too.

The man looks askance at her. For a moment she almost thinks that he’s about to say something to her, but in the end Kiyohira-sensei only heaves a gusty sigh and proceeds to ignore her entirely for the rest of their meal. He eats both pieces of sakuramochi, though.

The next day, there is an extra side dish filled with natto in the multilayered bento box delivered to them. Shiki eats it with her rice. Salty, savory. She takes another bite, quietly satisfied.

Without even raising his eyelids, Kiyohira-sensei nudges his small plate of natto towards her from across the table.

This time, Shiki does not refuse it.

Chapter Text

"Stay still."

Shiki patiently remains unmoving, back pressed against the wall behind her. Her gaze is steady as she surveys Kiyohira-sensei standing before her. The man's eyes are narrowed in concentration as he raises the short knife in his hand. It's an almost comical sight, the stark visual contrast of such a large man brandishing such a tiny blade.

Kiyohira-sensei reaches forward. The knife blade barely grazes the top of Shiki's head.

"… Alright, you can move aside now."

Shiki ducks under his arm and circles around him, peering up at her teacher and caretaker curiously. "May I ask what you're doing?"

Kiyohira-sensei grunts, but does not say anything. Shiki is left to look on in confusion as the man proceeds to carve a string of random numbers right above the deep groove he'd cut into the wooden post of the wall, where she had just been standing.

… No, wait, that's not random numbers. That's today's date, isn't it? Why is Kiyohira-sensei carving the date into the wooden frame?

"Kiyohira-sensei?" Shiki tries to get the man's attention, poking at the back of his leg for good measure.

"Don't worry about it," is all he says gruffly, batting her hand aside. Then Kiyohira-sensei turns around and firmly ushers her along, heedless of her confusion. He coughs, clearing his throat, "Just testing to see if the blade was still sharp."

"… I see?" Shiki tries not to make her response sound like a question, although she doesn't think that she's doing a very good job of it. She doesn't really understand. If Kiyohira-sensei wanted to test the sharpness of his knife, couldn't he have chosen to cut something other than one of the wooden frames of the house? It wasn't like they had any shortage of training posts lying around. Shiki doesn't really understand what he's thinking–

"Come along, we really do need to get moving now," Kiyohira-sensei beckons Shiki, a touch impatient when she is slow to follow. "Daisaku-sama is probably going to find some way to make our lives miserable if we make him wait any longer."

Shiki blinks, attention diverted away from her earlier line of thought as she refocuses on what Kiyohira-sensei is saying.

"Daisaku-sama will be there?"

"Of course he'll be," the large man makes a face. "It's the first time that your abilities will be tested out on a Special Grade Curse, after all."

Shiki tilts her head at the particular inflection to those words. "Is that really such a big deal?"

Kiyohira-sensei side-eyes her. "… I keep forgetting that you don't have a proper background. Yes, Special Grades are a big deal, kid. Thousands of different curses exist in this world; only fourteen of them are officially registered as Special Grade."

Well, that certainly puts things into perspective.

"Although, technically it would be more accurate to say that your abilities will be tested out on a Special Grade Cursed Object today, rather than a Special Grade Curse," the man clarifies. Shiki jogs a few steps to catch up with Kiyohira-sensei's long strides, and he pauses momentarily before continuing, "Did Jihei tell you which cursed object they'll be using?"

Shiki shakes her head.

Kiyohira-sensei sighs. "It's one of Sukuna's fingers. I'm guessing you don't know who Sukuna is, either?"

The name… isn't exactly familiar to her, but she does have some recollection of it. Shiki thinks back to the numerous scrolls assigned as reading by her tutors. "… Ryomen Sukuna, imaginary demon?"

"Ha! Nothing about him is imaginary, girl," Kiyohira-sensei barks out a short, sharp laugh. "But yes, you're not wrong. So you've covered that in your lessons, hm?"

Shiki shrugs.

"Eloquent. Well," Kiyohira-sensei waves his hand. "I'll spare you the history and details. Just know that even though we'll have containment barriers in place, it's still an incredibly dangerous cursed object. Since it's been sealed, it'll be mostly harmless on its own –which is why Daisaku-sama and the others think it will be a good test for you."

The two of them eventually come to a stop in front of an unassuming building. But before Kiyohira-sensei even raises a hand to knock, the paper doors automatically slide open on their own.

… Well, not on their own, as it turns out. Shiki glances down at the edge of the bamboo frames, only to see small cutouts of paper shikigami quietly pushing open the doors for them.

Kiyohira-sensei steps inside, wholly ignoring the animated paper cutouts that turn and bow respectfully to him. "Hurry up, we haven't got all day."

"Yes, Kiyohira-sensei." With one last glance towards the oddly-cute paper shikigami, Shiki follows after her teacher.

To date, the Gojo Clan has done several different tests on Shiki's abilities. Curses, cursed objects, cursed tools. Can you see the lines on these? Can you cut the lines for that?

The answer has always been the same:

Yes.

… As Kiyohira-sensei had not-so-subtly implied earlier, Daisaku-sama is present in the room today. It's been awhile since Shiki has last seen the elder –not since the day that Satoru-oniichan tore down the house and sent Kiyohira-sensei to the healers, in fact. Shiki says her greetings and bows politely, and Daisaku-sama nods towards her with a slight smile.

"Take your time, child," he tells her.

At his cue, one of the servants steps forward with a polished tray, upon which rests a rectangular box. The young man bows and offers it to Shiki. There doesn't seem to be anything particularly special about the box in terms of its outward appearance, yet the lacquered wood is oddly heavy in her hands.

"Fear not," Daisaku-sama inclines his head. "This room has been properly sealed and warded to contain a Special Grade Cursed Object."

… Yes, Shiki can certainly see that, given that the room is covered in strange talismans over every inch of its surface. It's quite unlike the level of preparation she's had for any of her other tests before.

Special Grade Cursed Object.

Shiki lifts the lid off the box.

The first thing that registers to her is the cursed energy. Not even the First Grade Curse that she'd been tested with last week had felt like anything remotely similar to this. It's not just the level of cursed energy, but also the feeling of it. Something heavy, sinking. Insidious. Shiki almost expects to see curses crawling out of the woodwork as soon as the cursed object is exposed to the open air, but there's nothing of the sort. For one –this is the middle of the Gojo compound. Not to mention, the countless seals and talismans protecting the room.

Red lines glow faintly over the aged cloth wrappings coiled tightly around the cursed object. Without any prompting, Shiki begins unraveling the seals. And at the end of it–

The cursed object is a gnarled finger with a wickedly sharp nail. Its texture is coarse, hard. Grave wax. Shiki is holding a finger in the palm of her hand.

… She detachedly wonders what it says about the sort of training that the Gojo Clan has put her through, that she has no particular reaction to holding a dismembered human finger like this. Then again, with the sheer amount of cursed energy radiating from it, it's hard to view it more as an actual body part than the cursed object it really is.

A finger. A cursed object. Sukuna's finger, Kiyohira-sensei had called it.

Shiki looks at the cursed object. Unblemished, unmarred.

It's… just a finger.

"Well?" Daisaku-sama's voice breaks into her thoughts. "Can you destroy it?"

There's a thread of something expectant underlying his tone, almost anticipatory. It's not entirely without reason. Thus far, there has been nothing that Shiki could not see red lines on. There's nothing that her blade would not cut.

Daisaku-sama will have to live with being disappointed, though.

Shiki slowly shakes her head and sets down the cursed object in front of her.

"I can't," she tells him honestly. "… There are no lines. Sukuna's finger does not have any lines."

.

.

The Imaginary Demon God Ryomen Sukuna was defeated during the Heian Era, during the "Golden Age of Jujutsu." He was revered as a god, feared as a demon. A cruel specter, with four arms and two faces.

He was a human sorcerer.

Then in death, he became a cursed spirit.

Yet such was his strength that even death could not put a permanent end to the calamitous King of Curses. What now remained of Ryomen Sukuna were his twenty indestructible fingers traversing the ages as cursed objects, ever-growing in strength.

… No wonder Daisaku-sama had been visibly disappointed when Shiki told him that she couldn't see any lines. Disappointed, but understanding nonetheless. After all, it was a widely-accepted fact that no one could destroy Ryomen Sukuna's fingers. Nothing could destroy those fingers –not even a cursed technique that seemed to be perfectly suited for destruction.

Deathless.

Could something really be deathless? Shiki finds it a little hard to wrap her mind around the concept. Anything that lives, dies. That's the way of the world, isn't it? That's the basic understanding that her ability works upon. And, if the records that she'd looked up afterwards that day were true, Ryomen Sukuna had once truly lived. He had been a living, breathing sorcerer in those ancient times, thousands of years ago. Just as Shiki herself was living, breathing in this very moment.

… And then he died. Sorcerers of the age had given all they'd had in order to defeat the King of Curses.

Shiki remembers her lessons. Cursed spirits are born from the cursed energy created by humans as a natural byproduct of negative emotions. Fear, anger, hate, and everything in-between. The cursed energy gathers and builds, gathers and builds, eventually coalescing and festering –and thus a nightmarish cursed spirit is born.

But cursed spirits could also be born directly of humans: Those who die cursed deaths and have their spirits corrupted would then become vengeful cursed spirits in turn. Just look at Sugawara no Michizane, who the Gojo Clan claimed descent from. He'd had to be deified in order for his vengeful spirit to be quelled.

The whole point to this being:

Whether or not a human becomes a cursed spirit after dying depends on how they died, yes, but aside from that… it also depends on their level of cursed energy. And sorcerers have more cursed energy than most.

That's why all sorcerers must die cursed deaths. Sorcerers must be killed using cursed techniques, lest they turn into vengeful cursed spirits upon death.

Shiki highly doubts that the esteemed, venerable sorcerers of the Golden Age did not know of this fact. If Ryomen Sukuna had been a human sorcerer, there's no doubt that he would've been killed by sorcerers wielding their cursed techniques against him.

And yet he still became a cursed spirit upon death, even despite having been properly killed.

… Or rather, he became a cursed object? Twenty cursed objects? … Does that still count as him being a cursed spirit? Shiki feels like it should.

He doesn't have any lines. There are no lines.

No lines means no death. But no, Ryomen Sukuna had been killed, hadn't he? By sorcerers during the Golden Age.

… Yet, there were no lines on the cursed object that she'd held in her hands that day. No lines at all.

Quite frankly, Shiki is actually a little glad to finally, finally see something that doesn't have any red lines sprawled across it, but… it's probably not such a good thing, in this particular case. Ryomen Sukuna's fingers are Special Grade Cursed Objects, after all. They're curses. And curses are no good.

If Shiki had been born over two thousand years ago, if she'd lived during the same time as Ryomen Sukuna, and looked upon him with these cursed eyes… would she have been able to see eerie red lines scarring his body? Or would it have been just like his fingers? Would she have cast her eyes upon the man-demon-god, and seen nothing at all? Or would she have only seen another regular human being?

… Aside from the whole four arms and two faces deal, since that was apparently a thing. Right. Aside from that.

Shiki puffs her cheeks, exhaling.

Curiosity is not her nature. Shiki isn't driven by a tireless, insatiable desire to know. But all the same, ever since discovering that there was something out there that had no red lines… isn't it only natural, to be curious about it? And so she'd looked up more of the pitifully few records there were on 'Ryomen Sukuna.' A sorcerer who'd been more of a ruinous calamity of evil than a human man, if the tales were to be believed.

She's not entirely satisfied by what she's found, though, mainly because she still hasn't gotten any real answers. Why aren't there any lines?

There is a start and end to everything that exists in the world. From the moment they first come into conception, to the moment they reach their inevitable conclusion. What makes Sukuna's fingers any different?

… Of course, there was also the possibility that she was approaching this from the wrong angle.

Shiki straightens slowly, fingers tapping softly at the table next to her pile of texts.

Maybe it wasn't Sukuna's fingers that were the issue, here. Maybe the problem was with Shiki herself. Either some fault to Shiki's technique that she still doesn't understand… or because of the simple fact that she lacks strength.

Strength. If only Shiki was stronger–

"What's got you thinking so hard over there?"

Shiki startles and spins around at the unexpected voice behind her, "Satoru-oniichan?"

Her cousin grins and reaches over to ruffle her hair teasingly. Shiki ducks a little, eyes scrunching shut, but it only serves to make the teenager laugh, before his attention falls on her readings.

"Ryomen Sukuna?" In a single casual motion, Satoru-oniichan leans over her shoulder, humming lightly as his eyes flicker over the scrolls scattered across the table. "Why would you –ah. Is it still bothering you?"

"A little bit," Shiki admits.

"Hm. Well, it's not that big a deal," the white-haired teenager gives her another pat on the head. "If it's of any consolation to you, no sorcerer has ever been able to destroy one of Sukuna's fingers."

"… Not even you?" she finds herself asking.

"Nope," Satoru-oniichan responds easily. "Although, who's to say it'll still be that way in the future?"

The little girl tilts her head, then makes a small sound of understanding. Satoru-oniichan might be the strongest, but there's still room for him to become even stronger in the future. If Shiki can work towards becoming stronger day by day, there's no reason for Satoru-oniichan to remain unmoving, is there? He's going to school for training, just like Kento-ojichan, and Kento-ojichan is training to become stronger, too.

Shiki thinks she gets it.

"On another note," Satoru-oniichan rummages for something in the bag that he's carrying. "Where did I… ah-ha, found it!"

Triumphantly, her cousin brandishes–

"Glasses?" Shiki blinks. "… Again?"

"Mhm. The clan's toolmakers came up with another pair, so I took the liberty of bringing them over with me," Satoru-oniichan hands the delicate frames over to her. "Apparently the last few didn't work out too well?"

The little girl waves her hand, making a haphazard 'so-so' gesture. "… Sort of? The first four pairs didn't work at all, but the fifth worked for a full week. And then I started seeing lines on everything again."

She'd received that fifth pair of spelled glasses a few days after she'd been presented with one of Sukuna's fingers in the sealed testing room. The sheer relief she'd felt, when she realized that she could finally see normally–!

Shiki had almost been resigned to forever being unable to see things normally again. It's –it's distracting, maddening, wrong. The elders can talk all they like about a sorcerer's techniques being natural to their body, but they're not the ones living in a world full of eerie red lines. Nothing can change Shiki's opinion that there's something not right about literally being able to see death like this.

Death is natural. Visually perceiving death in the form of glowing red lines? Is very much not natural.

"That makes this pair number six, then?" Satoru-oniichan gestures towards the new pair of glasses he'd just handed to her.

"Seven, actually," Shiki corrects. "… The sixth pair lasted four days."

"That doesn't sound very promising."

"It doesn't," the girl agrees. "But it's fine. I don't actually need any of these glasses anymore."

Satoru-oniichan blinks, surprised. "Wait, you don't? But what about the lines, don't they give you a headache?"

Shiki stiffens, jerking up. "How did you–?"

She's sure that she's never mentioned her discomforts aloud! And it… it wasn't too bad, the headaches. Nothing that Shiki wouldn't be able to grit her teeth and work through, nothing debilitating–

"C'mon now, do you really need to ask?" The teenager taps at his own eyes pointedly, hidden beneath dark sunglasses as they are. "Nanami isn't going to be very happy with you, y'know."

Ah. Hmm.

"… Please don't tell Kento-ojichan?" Shiki tries. Satoru-oniichan laughs in her face.

"Nice try. So, care to tell me why you've been hiding it?" The young man pokes her pointedly, "Pushing your limits is all well and good, but not if it's only going to put you back into the hospital. You need to be more careful –it's not like your technique has been documented in the clan before, so if you don't make your limits clear, then the elders are only going to keep pushing."

Towards the end of his words, Satoru-oniichan's voice has settled into a decidedly more neutral tone. Shiki wonders if Satoru-oniichan is speaking from his own personal experiences with pushy elders. Gojo Satoru is the first in nearly four hundred years to be born with both Limitless and the Six Eyes, after all. The expectations that the Gojo Clan would have of him, the pressure laid upon his shoulders…

"Well?"

"I just didn't want Kento-ojichan to worry," Shiki finally says. "And… it wasn't so bad. The headaches weren't… I could still think. And go about things normally, most of the time. So, there wasn't any need to make a big deal about it."

Satoru-oniichan gives her a long look and a dramatic sigh.

"We really need to get around to updating your definition of what qualifies as 'bad,'" he says airily, rubbing lightly at his chin. "Yeah, no wonder Nanami is always so concerned about you."

… What does that mean?!

"We'll shelve that conversation for another day, though! I think Nanami deserves to be present for it." The white-haired teen claps his hands together, "So! The glasses. The whole point of them is to help you stop seeing the lines when you don't need to, like how I use extra-special sunglasses to dampen the information that's processed by my Six Eyes so it's not overwhelming all the time. You said that you don't need them anymore, though?"

"I don't need them," Shiki confirms. Because, "I finally figured out how to make the lines go away."

Satoru-oniichan stills. "Oh?"

The girl nods once, firmly.

Her cousin promptly crouches down in front of her, removing the dark sunglasses obscuring his own eyes. The Six Eyes shine light and crystalline, keen with unerring perception. As vibrantly blue as always, flickering with the sort of kaleidoscopic brilliance that should not be possible in human eyes. From this perspective, Shiki thinks she finally might understand why no one ever really seems to look her in the eyes anymore, if her eyes are anything like Satoru-oniichan's.

Cursed blue eyes.

Satoru-oniichan peers carefully down at her as he examines Shiki's own eyes, close enough that they're almost directly face-to-face with each other.

"Are you doing it right now?" he asks. "'Making the lines go away,' as you put it?"

"Yes," Shiki responds. She looks at her cousin –really looks at him. Free of glowing red lines, Shiki is finally able to really look at Satoru-oniichan and take in his appearance properly.

We really do look alike, she realizes. Sort of. It goes beyond the blue eyes and white hair, although that's certainly a large factor. There's something in the face, too, except that's not entirely true–

But that's a little neither here nor there, at the moment.

"Interesting," her cousin hums lightly, still studying Shiki carefully as he cocks his head like a bird. "… It doesn't actually look like there's anything different from the usual state for your eyes."

The little girl shrugs helplessly. She doesn't entirely understand it herself, either. But the very moment that Shiki had put on that first pair of working glasses and realized that it was really possible for the lines to go away, that had been all the prompting she'd needed to find her own solution.

It was possible for the lines to disappear. It was possible for the lines to disappear! Shiki instantly knew that she needed to learn how to do this, before she ended up being driven insane from it all. It didn't matter that the Gojo Clan would be willing to craft these specialized glasses for her –glasses could be broken all too easily. As long as it was possible to make the lines go away in the first place… as long as Shiki could figure out how…

"Can you activate your technique again? Make the lines reappear?"

Shiki blinks in a heartbeat and says, "Done."

"… Yeah, it honestly doesn't look any different," Satoru-oniichan squints at her, then laughs. "Amazing! I've never heard of anything like that being possible for the Six Eyes before."

The little girl shrugs helplessly. "Because… it's not the Six Eyes?"

"… I need to stage an intervention soon, I think you've been spending way too much time around the elders." She honestly can't tell if her cousin is joking. Probably not? It's Satoru-oniichan. Shiki makes the executive decision to keep quiet about this in front of Kiyohira-sensei. "So, how does it work? I'm not seeing any fluctuations in your cursed energy, and nothing about the flow in your eyes has changed at all."

How does she explain it?

Shiki had eventually figured out how to stop seeing the red lines on her own by using the special glasses as a helping tool of sorts. She'd started off by visiting the clan's toolmakers, and she'd learned that the glasses hadn't been inscribed with suppression or disruption seals, or anything of the sort. Shiki hadn't completely understood the convoluted explanations, but she did understand one thing: It wasn't so much about the cursed energy as it was about perception.

So, it's a bit of a misnomer to say that the lines disappeared… because that's actually an outright lie.

It's a little hard to properly put this into words, but something inside Shiki had always known that it was impossible for the lines to truly disappear. Hence why she'd been so convinced that this would be something that she'd have to learn to live with seeing for the rest of her life. She chalks it up to some unexplained aspect regarding "innate techniques."

That being said: The lines haven't disappeared. The lines will never truly disappear. But as long as Shiki changes her perception, as long as she shifts her focus just right… then, it's possible to alter her field of vision enough that she can overlook certain things.

Like eerie red lines, for example.

… It's a bit awkward and takes getting used to, but it works. And it makes perfect sense, in retrospect! When a person looks at something with their eyes, they only really see it when they're focusing on it. If they're not actively focusing on it, then it's possible for the mind to ignore it. And that's essentially the same as not seeing it at all.

How does it work?

"By changing my perspective," is probably the best way to put it. Shiki nods firmly, and clarifies by adding, "I do it by shifting my focal point."

There's a long beat of silence.

"… I'm sorry, but I've just gotta ask," Satoru-oniichan says slowly, "Did you happen to get any tips on how to explain things from Shoko when I wasn't looking? Because that almost felt like one of Shoko's explanations on reverse cursed technique. Don't use Shoko as an example, by the way, she's a terrible example."

"Um…" Shiki flounders. Maybe she should try to simplify her explanation on how she makes the red lines 'disappear?' "I just ignore it really hard?"

… Alright, maybe that was a little too simple.

Satoru-oniichan probably thinks so as well, if the way he slaps a hand to his forehead is any indication of things. "… Okay. Okay! Moving on, then."

Shiki winces, "Sorry."

"Nah, don't worry about it," her cousin waves her off. "I'm guessing it probably wouldn't work for me anyways, since it sounds like you're… purposely limiting your own perception, somehow? And the Six Eyes is all about seeing everything all the time, so."

"That sounds very tiring."

"It is! Which is why I've got these," Satoru-oniichan holds up his sunglasses. "Glad you've figured out your own solution, though. So, who else knows about your new breakthrough? … Have you even told anyone else yet?"

Shiki opens her mouth to say 'yes,' but pauses.

… Has she told anyone? She'd been rather preoccupied with figuring out how to stop seeing red lines everywhere these past few days. Aside from that, she'd also been curious about that Special Grade finger, and so she'd busied herself with looking up records on Ryomen Sukuna. And that was all on top of her regular training.

Did she tell Kiyohira-sensei about her discovery? … Surely she did at some point, right?

"…"

"Ha! A little scatterbrained, are we?" Satoru-oniichan laughs at her. Shiki ducks her head. "Aww, are you pouting? Don't worry, you'll still be my favorite little cousin, forgetful tendencies and all."

The young girl lets out a small 'hmph' from his teasing, fighting a reluctant smile.

.

.

A week after it becomes known that Shiki is able to control the red lines in her vision ("Why am I the last one to find out about this? We literally live under the same roof!" "Sorry, Kiyohira-sensei."), she is finally given permission to leave the Gojo clan compound.

Not freely, but no longer as heavily restricted as before. Shiki is pleased –she'll finally be able to visit Kento-ojichan, like how he's been visiting her!

Kiyohira-sensei is less pleased.

"It's still too dangerous," he insists. The tall man folds his arms across his chest, resigned. "… For the record, I don't approve of this. Try to watch yourself out there, alright? And listen to the Special Grade One supervising you."

"Yes, Kiyohira-sensei," Shiki says patiently. She gets a squinty, narrow-eyed look from the man in question.

"… I know you're probably not on the best terms with Isao, but he's decent enough, as a sorcerer. Certain attitudes aside. He'll listen to the elders' orders and watch over you seriously."

The little girl blinks, "Who's Isao-san?"

Kiyohira-sensei gives her a look. "Are you kidding me? 'Gojo Isao.' The name isn't ringing any bells for you? You broke his family's heirloom sword, girl."

… Oh.

Right, Shiki remembers him. Gojo Isao was the man who'd held Shiki at swordpoint, the first time she'd been brought before the elders for her eyes. Lies, he'd claimed. He'd spoken disparagingly of her parents, too.

And then Shiki broke his sword.

"I remember him," she nods.

"… And now I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not," Kiyohira-sensei grumbles under his breath. Then sighs, "Run along, you little menace, and stay out of trouble. God knows the number of messes Satoru-sama got himself into, as a child. Don't follow his example, please."

Shiki hums. There's probably a number of stories hidden under Kiyohira-sensei's long-suffering tone, but she'll have to ask after them later.

"Thank you for your advice and concern, Kiyohira-sensei," she responds. But for some reason, this makes the man's complexion darken, and Kiyohira-sensei glowers fiercely down at her.

"Out with you, now. Out!"

Hiding her confusion, Shiki bows politely from the doorway. "I will be leaving, then."

… She can't really make out what the man's muffled response is as the doors slide shut behind her, although it sounds suspiciously like "scram."

Shiki isn't sure why Kiyohira-sensei is so grumpy and irritated by her outing –it's not like he's particularly happy to have a child living with him, right? Shouldn't he be happy that Shiki is leaving the house for a day? She'd been essentially foisted on him by the elders, after all, and there had also been that incident with Satoru-oniichan in the beginning. While Kiyohira-sensei is certainly softer with her now than he had initially been, it's still…

"Oi, over here."

Shiki pauses at the sharp call directed towards her. The man is vaguely familiar, with his pinched expression and light brown hair. Although Shiki has not interacted with him again ever since that fateful meeting, it's easy enough to remember him, especially with the conversation with Kiyohira-sensei fresh in the forefront of her mind. The sword at the man's hip is definitely different from the one that Shiki had previously broken, though.

"Hello, Isao-san," she greets cordially.

Gojo Isao smiles –or grimaces, it's a little hard to decipher. Although, the expression is quickly cleared from his face. "… Greetings to the blessed child. I will be your escort for your trip outside the compound today."

Contrary to what Shiki recalls of the man, Isao-san isn't actively antagonistic towards her as they fall in step together, even though it's clear that he's not very comfortable in her presence. Which then begged the question of why he was her escort. Shiki highly doubts that the elders of the Gojo Clan would be unaware of… this. What made them think that it would be a good idea for Isao-san to be the one nominally in charge of Shiki for her outing?

The first stretch of the car ride is spent in absolute silence. Shiki doesn't mind. It's not as if she has anything to say to Isao-san, anyways. But the man himself appears to feel otherwise, fingers tapping out an erratic rhythm on his knee until he finally turns to break the silence.

"Aren't you able to control your technique now?" Isao-san glances back towards Shiki from the passenger's seat. It only lasts a brief moment, before he lifts his gaze and looks away. "So why are your eyes still like that?"

'Like that' is probably referring to how Shiki's eyes remain an unholy, eldritch blue despite her technique being "inactive," rather than returning to the normal brown that they originally once were. The easy answer to this is because shifting her perspective apparently does not affect the state of her eyes, since it's only a change in her own mental perception. But does she owe a man like Isao-san any answers?

The sorcerer sighs heavily when she steadily ignores him. "… Look. I'd prefer it if you didn't hold a grudge against me just for voicing my own opinions. Your eyes might've turned out to be the real thing, but we have had precedents where fellow clansmen tried to fake cursed techniques for honor and prestige. Considering how the Tobiume is practically in shambles at this point, can you really blame me for drawing the most rational conclusion?"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, Isao-san." While it's true that Shiki isn't fond of the man, she isn't holding a grudge against him, either. Simply put, she doesn't care enough about him to hold a grudge. Shiki had literally forgotten his name… if not his actions.

"No, I think I do," he presses on regardless. "Surely you've covered the subject in your studies by this point, too. Blood and lineage are important in the world of sorcerers, because of the cursed techniques they carry. But potential is just that: Potential. If a child is not born with a cursed technique or enough cursed energy, then it's a shame, but there's nothing to be done about it."

"Your point?"

"My point is… I apologize for my poor choice of words that day, if that's the reason for the cold shoulder. And, I admit that perhaps I may have gone a tad overboard in using the Mirror Blade." Isao-san twitches at the mention of his broken sword.

… Right, hadn't that been an heirloom or something?

"But I sincerely hope you understand: The Gojo Clan is a sorcerer clan," he pulls himself back together and continues. "Sorcerers exist to fight curses. Those without the strength and ability should never be put in a position where they'll have to fight curses someday. Yes, children with cursed techniques are prized and adored over those without… but what good is honor and prestige, if it's built on lies? All that will result in, is a death sentence."

There's something heartfelt and genuine in Isao-san's voice, in this moment. In his own way, it's clear that he's only doing what he believes is right. Those with the ability should fight, and those without the ability –shouldn't. Clear-cut and simple. He hadn't thought that Shiki's cursed eyes were real, and so he'd vehemently opposed Ima-san's entreaties based on that understanding.

But even so, he's still mistaken about something.

"Isao-san," Shiki says. "I truly do not care."

And that's the honest truth of the matter: Shiki doesn't care whether or not anyone believes her cursed eyes to be true or fake. She doesn't care if it's a new, powerful technique, or only a pitiful shadow of the clan's prized Six Eyes. Shiki doesn't care for any of the power plays or clash of ideals amongst the adults that go straight over her head.

She just wants the strength to be able to stand on her own two feet, and not be a burden to Kento-ojichan. Or Satoru-oniichan, either.

… That's all.

Isao-san stares blankly at her for a long moment, before letting out a small laugh.

"I see," he shakes his head with a faint smile. "Perhaps that might even be for the best, then. I don't suppose that you've been–"

Abruptly, the man cuts himself off, straightening in his seat.

Isao-san's eyes narrow as he spins, "Shiki–"

There's a deafening boom, as the entire world shakes around them. Reflexively, Shiki shuts her eyes from the blinding flash of light, arms rising in a too-late futile attempt to defend herself as she's bodily thrown into the air, shrapnel flying everywhere–

But there's no pain at all. Instead, there is only the feeling of a calloused hand gripping her firmly by her wrist, while broken shards of glass and metals slide down harmlessly around her.

"An explosion, really? No originality at all," Isao-san's voice remains calm, even despite the destruction. There's no shock in his words at all, merely a vague sense of annoyance. "Ah, you can open your eyes, it's alright. Don't worry, everything is going to be fine."

Heart thudding in her chest, Shiki slowly opens her eyes again.

It's –it's a mess. The car is a total loss, completely in pieces, and there's even a small fire in the middle of the empty mountain road. But somehow, Shiki stands amidst it all entirely unharmed. It should've been impossible to dodge the shrapnel so suddenly at point-blank range, but for some reason Shiki doesn't even have so much as a single scratch on her body. The same applied to their chauffeur as well, wide-eyed and trembling–

And the young chauffeur stumbles, when Isao-san releases his grip on his shoulder and gives him a gentle shove in Shiki's direction.

"My cursed technique is called Fluctuation," Isao-san says loudly, projecting his voice. It's clear that he's not addressing Shiki with his words, focused as he is on their too-still surroundings. "It's no Limitless, but it still allows me to negate most forms of physical damage. I achieve this by controlling the frictional coefficients of anything within my range."

Binding vow, Shiki realizes. Isao-san is using the binding vow of disclosing one's technique to the enemy, which would increase the strength and effectiveness of his own cursed technique.

"You're pretty brazen, trying to launch an open assault like this. So, how much are you getting paid? I can tell you right now that it's not–"

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Gunshots ring loudly; three in quick succession, one after another. Shiki jerks a little, as does the hapless chauffeur next to her who literally jumps at the sound. But Isao-san simply folds his arms in front of himself, standing in front of them like an immovable wall despite his slender frame. There's a strange ripple in the air in front of the man, accompanied by a swell in his cursed energy, and then the bullets just –melt into nothing.

Literally.

"Maximized air resistance," is all Isao-san offers lightly into the ringing silence. "Bullets and blades are pointless against me, y'see. Is that all you've got?"

The answer to his question is another rain of bullets. Except this time, it's the rapidfire rush of what sounds like a machine gun. Isao-san clicks his tongue, and the air before him begins glowing once more, expanding into a shield protecting all three of them from the seemingly-endless gunfire.

"Stay here," he says shortly. Isao-san throws a talisman to the ground in front of Shiki and the chauffeur, and strange seals immediately inscribe themselves into a circular formation around them as the paper seal burns. "Don't cross the boundary, or my cursed technique won't be able to protect you anymore. This will only take a moment."

With that said, Isao-san's cursed energy surges sharply, and he moves. He's fast, inhumanly so –almost as fast as Kiyohira-sensei, to Shiki's eyes. The man charges directly towards the source of the gunfire with no hesitation whatsoever, disappearing somewhere behind the line of trees just beyond the roadside.

"E-Everything will be fine," the chauffeur says in Isao-san's absence. The young man's voice trembles slightly, and he smiles shakily down at Shiki even despite his obvious fear. "Isao-sama is strong. We'll be fine."

… Is he trying to reassure her? Shiki isn't… she'd been startled, certainly, but somehow the fear hasn't kicked in quite yet. Certainly, she can still feel the rapid thump-thump-thump of her heartbeat from having been caught in the middle of an explosion just now. But aside from that, she doesn't feel like she's been particularly affected by the sudden turn that the car trip had taken.

Because Isao-san had acted swiftly and protected her.

… Shiki doesn't know what to think about it.

Regardless of her muddled thoughts, Isao-san is true to his word and does not take long to return. Shiki's eyes can't help but catch on the way he casually flicks his blade, clearing it of crimson stains, before sliding it back into the sheath at his hip.

Gojo Isao casually strolls back to them at a wholly unbothered, unhurried pace.

"There were three of them. One was a fairly skilled shikigami user –not that it meant anything for them, in the end," Isao-san shakes his head. "Now that that's over with… I suppose the car's a total loss, but there's no point in standing around here like this. I'll give a call and have–"

Suddenly, the man stops and freezes, just a few paces in front of Shiki and the young chauffeur. A strange sort of expression flickers across Isao-san's face, but it's hard to make out what it is, exactly.

Inexplicably, a foreboding chill runs down the length of Shiki's spine.

"… Isao-san?"

For a silent moment, the man stares directly at her, his mouth slowly opening and closing mutely.

Then, without further warning or fanfare, Isao-san's head falls off from his neck in a spectacular burst of red, hitting the ground in a gory mess and bouncing once, twice, before eventually rolling to a stop at Shiki's feet.

Chapter Text

There's so much blood.

Red, red, spilling over and pooling on the asphalt ground. The crimson liquid spreads and spreads and continues spreading without end, splattered everywhere, everywhere.

There's blood soaked into the edge of her flower-printed kimono. There's blood liberally coating her shoes. There's blood painted over her ankles.

That's Isao-san's blood.

… And right now Isao-san's decapitated head is still looking up towards her, forever frozen with that strange, unreadable expression etched over his features.

Distantly, Shiki can hear a choked, retching sound coming from the young chauffeur beside her. She doesn't blame him, considering all the blood–

Something prickles uneasily along her skin, as she finds herself staring fixedly at the macabre scene laid out before her. Utterly transfixed, and unable to turn away. There's a strange feeling in her chest, something unspeakably tight but also utterly weightless at the same time that it frightens her. It frightens her so, so very much–

Or rather, it should frighten her.

… It's difficult to articulate what she's currently feeling in this moment, exactly, but Shiki is acutely aware that there's a distinct lack of that certain sort of rabbit-quick panic racing in her pulse, even though she does feel the pounding of her heartbeat thundering in her ears. But it's not quite the same, it's–

It's strange.

No, not strange.

It's not right, Shiki thinks. Realizes, with a sort of dawning comprehension, as the young chauffeur beside her makes a panicked noise that's all terror and little else. A subdued non-reaction like Shiki's is most definitely not right, but… but Shiki can't help the way she feels.

She should be crying. Shiki knows she should be crying, screaming. That's the proper response when someone dies right in front of you, right?

… Is she sad? Shiki… Shiki is more surprised than sad at the moment, as harsh as it sounds. But that's the cold truth of the matter. She doesn't –she didn't really know Isao-san, despite their brief exchange earlier. Yes, Shiki felt like she understood him a little better after he'd tried explaining himself, but evidently it wasn't enough to make her truly feel.

Still. Shiki knows knows knows that she should be in hysterics right now, just like the young man next to her. There's something vaguely tight in her throat, but not constricting. The tears stubbornly refuse to come, even though they should.

… What's wrong with her?

Isao-san had been fighting to protect her! And here Shiki is, more numb than sorrowful as she literally stands in his blood. The blood he'd spilled protecting her, even. How can she possibly remain so utterly impassive to that?

Is this "shock?" … It must be, right? … Does this mean that the severity and magnitude of everything would catch up to her all at once later?

Shiki inhales. Exhales. Runs through the mental exercises that Kiyohira-sensei had painstakingly taught her, and feels her heartbeat settle into something approaching calm as she sharpens all her senses into a razor-sharp focus.

Later. She'll worry about all of this… later. Assuming that she'll still be alive to do so.

The little girl steadfastly ignores the strange scent in the air (the smell of blood), determinedly clears her mind of the shocking abruptness of Isao-san's demise (his eyes are still staring at her), and pays absolutely no heed to the wet warmth splattered over her bare ankles (Isao-san's blood, that's Isao san's blood–!).

Steady breaths, in and out. Her eyes aren't stinging, even though she's admittedly a little lightheaded at the moment. Shiki still doesn't feel any urge to cry. For some reason, the tears just stubbornly refuse to come, even though they should, and this is probably another sign that Shiki is an awful, awful girl. The tightness in her throat eases undeservingly with every steady intake of breath, until it fades into something near-unnoticeable.

… There's no terror. There's no mind-numbing fear, no panic. There is no trepidation accompanying every pulse of her too-steady heartbeat.

There's just blood.

Just death.

Shiki blinks, slow and deliberate. And around her, the clarity of the world dissolves into something distorted. Flickering, as hundreds of eerie red lines overlay her reality once more.

But despite countless eldritch red lines spiraling everywhere over the asphalt ground, around the railings and even up the cliffside bordering the mountain road… in front of her, Isao-san no longer has any red lines glowing upon his body. Isao-san is dark. Wholly, utterly dark.

That makes sense, because Isao-san is dead.

"What a cold-hearted little ojou-sama you are, Gojo Shiki."

Shiki looks up.

It's a woman, one whom she does not recognize. Pale-skinned and dark-haired, like so many other people living in this country. But there's a wild light in this strange woman's eyes, something that gleams with an almost poisonous sheen as she emerges onto the asphalt road and steps forward, carelessly dropping a lumpy object to the ground–

A doll?

A… headless doll.

Shiki's gaze flickers briefly towards Isao-san's decapitated head by her feet, then refocuses on the strange woman once more.

"Are you ignoring me? Well, I guess it's fine if you're too terrified to speak." The woman smiles, vicious and sharp. "Makes it all the easier for me!"

"S-Stay back!"

Shiki blinks in surprise, as the young chauffeur suddenly shoves his way in front of her with an unexpected burst of courage. He's pale-faced and trembling, clearly still terrified out of his mind –but for some reason, he interposes himself between Shiki and the curse user advancing on them without hesitation. His arms are slightly spread to the sides, an openly protective gesture meant to shield the girl behind him, but it's a futile effort, and all three of them know it.

The woman laughs derisively. "Step aside, kid. Your precious little ojou-sama's guard just killed off the rest of my crew, so I'm not exactly in the most forgiving mood right now, if you catch my drift. I'm only giving you this one chance to run off with your tail between your legs like the useless dog you are."

The young man stiffens from the threat. Then, softly, "… Even a dog knows what loyalty is."

Something in the woman's expression shutters and darkens at those words, before she openly scoffs at him. "Tch, like I care. If that's what you think, then you can just die for your master!"

Unlike Satoru-oniichan –or even Isao-san– Shiki's cursed technique is not one that can conveniently block attacks coming her way. Which means that when the woman brings out a handgun and levels it in their direction, Shiki promptly kicks the chauffeur in the back of his knees, before dropping to the ground herself. The first round of bullets go wide.

Then she grabs the back of the young man's coat and yanks, cursed energy coiling down the length of her body to augment her motions as she roughly rolls the both of them over. By some minor miracle, they manage to reach and hide behind the smoldering wreckage of the totaled car with only a few scrapes and bruises, rather than any bullets perforating their bodies.

For now.

"Sh-Shiki-sama," the chauffeur stutters, eyes wide. "Shiki-sama, you need to–!"

Whatever he's trying to say is promptly cut off as another round of bullets hits the metal wreckage from the opposite side right at this precise moment. The young man jumps, nerve-wracked and panicked from the gunshots. Shiki sympathizes, although there is a detached corner of her mind insisting that this is no time for panic, if you cannot keep a cool head on your shoulders in the middle of combat, then you will die.

… That voice in her head sounds suspiciously like Kiyohira-sensei, come to think of it.

"Trying to hide? That's not going to work!"

Right, this is no time to be getting distracted.

Shiki is not carrying any weapons on her. She hadn't thought that she would be needing anything of the sort –never mind that a sword was long and unwieldy to carry around for a child in the first place– but clearly that was an oversight on her part. A very severe oversight.

The jagged piece of too-hot metal that Shiki manages to pull out from the car wreckage burns her hands, but the little girl grips tightly onto it regardless.

"Look, I'm not in the mood to be playing around," the curse user's voice sounds again. Closer, closer, closer. "So just save us all the trouble and–"

Shiki lunges forward.

You're talented, Kiyohira-sensei had said to her before, only once. But you're young. And talent is not always enough.

The curse user is fast. Not as fast as Kiyohira-sensei or Isao-san –but certainly much faster than Shiki, even with cursed energy enhancing her movements as she'd been taught to do. Red lines flash before her eyes, but the woman moves far too quickly for Shiki to even attempt cutting with her improvised weapon. Shiki's first strike catches the curse user on the shin instead. The woman hisses, and there's a loud crack–

Gunpoint. Leveled directly at Shiki. The barrel is pointed at her, she needs to move–

But in the next moment, Shiki finds herself utterly blindsided by a sharp burst of pain exploding over her ribs from a lightning-fast kick. The blow is harsh enough that she's bodily launched through the air. Just like what constantly happens when she's training with Kiyohira-sensei –but rather than hitting the wooden floorboards of the training room, Shiki is skidding over the open asphalt road instead.

It hurts. Her back is on fire, bits of gravel and who knows what else digging into her inflamed, bleeding skin.

"Shiki-sama!"

"So easy. You've gotta learn to pay attention to more than just my gun, little ojou-sama!" Shiki has barely managed to right herself again when the curse user is on her in a whirlwind of movement. The girl raises her impromptu weapon just in time to block another harsh kick, but finds herself disarmed between one moment and the next as she's mercilessly knocked to the ground.

"Hm. Yeah, no wonder you've only got the one guard –you're definitely no Gojo Satoru." The woman's words are a condescending drawl as she peers down at Shiki, "Your 'Eyes of Severance' might allow you to cut anything you see, but if you don't have the physical ability to actually cut anything, then clearly it's useless."

A blade flashes down on the last word. Involuntarily, a soft gasp is pulled from Shiki's lips when the knife stabs cleanly through her right shoulder and directly into the ground beneath her.

It hurts –hurts. Much more than any training session with Kiyohira-sensei ever had.

"H-How do you know that?" the young chauffeur's voice sounds distantly from the side. Disbelieving, incredulous. "There have yet to be any official records made of Shiki-sama's abilities!"

"Oh, please," the curse user sniffs. "A new ocular curse… you think there's really any chance of keeping something like that a secret? My client wasn't exactly shy about providing me with details, y'know."

"Your client…?"

"Ah-ah! A lady's lips are sealed," the woman mimes zipping her lips. "There is such a thing as 'client confidentiality,' I'll have you know."

Pale fingers reach down to dab none-too-gently at Shiki's bleeding shoulder, and the little girl flinches involuntarily from the abrasive touch.

"I really wouldn't recommend moving, little ojou-sama," the curse user says casually. "Or pulling out that knife by yourself, for that matter. Might make it so that you'll never be able to move your arm again, y'know?"

The woman raises her hand, fingers bright with Shiki's blood. With her other hand, she brings out…

… another doll?

Inexplicably, Shiki finds herself remembering the headless doll that the woman had dropped earlier when she'd first made her appearance.

Headless.

Headless, just like Isao-san. Then, did that mean…?

"My cursed technique," the woman states with visible satisfaction, "Is called Doll Link. It requires blood from an injury dealt to a target by my own hand, and a doll as the medium. Thereafter, any injury that's inflicted onto the doll is then reflected onto the target's body. Neat, isn't it?"

Before her eyes, the woman forms a seal and grips her doll tightly with a bloodied hand –Shiki's blood– and then there's a sharp spike of cursed energy in the air that leaves absolutely no doubt as to what's happening, as the woman completes the ritual for her curse.

Shiki doesn't feel any different, but a chill runs down her spine at the sight regardless.

"My client wants you alive, so this is just for insurance," the curse user waves her newly-cursed doll in front of the girl's face. "So be good and just stay where you are, m'kay?"

Without waiting for a response, the woman rises from where she's pinned Shiki to the ground and turns in the direction of the trembling young chauffeur.

"Well, you've had your chance to run. Any last words?"

Move.

Everything in her body hurts, her shoulder most of all. Shiki's heart pounds inside her chest, thump-thump-thump, and it's… it's frustrating. It's frustrating beyond words, to be so easily outmatched and utterly helpless–!

Shiki raises her left hand, and her fingers close around the hilt of a knife. The very same knife that the curse user had used to stab through her shoulder entirely –the one that she hadn't bothered retrieving.

Move. Move!

"… Why are you doing this?"

"Really? Is that how we're going to play this?" The woman sighs exaggeratedly at the young chauffeur's question. "… Well, everyone needs to eat. And I've got just the two loveliest little daughters to care for as well, y'know? Can't leave them to grow up by themselves in the middle of bumfuck nowhere forever, and I'll finally have the money to move them into the city when this job is done."

"Just for that, you think –you think murdering is the answer?!" the young man sounds near-hysterical. "Even children?"

"Get off of your high horse," the curse user retorts sharply, dark eyes flashing. "What sorcerer hasn't killed before? 'Murderer,' hah. Do I need to remind you that your ojou-sama's bodyguard just killed my entire team?"

The young man flinches back. "E-Even so, that's still–!"

"You're so fucking boring," the woman rolls her eyes. "I know your type. Self-assured and self-righteous. Whatever. I'm done wasting my time talking with you here, just–"

With a sudden shout, the young man charges headlong at her.

"You fool–"

No. Not a fool.

The chauffeur had seen Shiki pulling herself upright behind the curse user. He'd seen her, and instantly made the decision to draw attention towards himself. A bullet finds its mark in his side and he crumples with a pained shout, but not before he reaches the woman. Not before he lunges at her and bodily tackles her to the ground.

Shiki swings her appropriated knife across the flailing limbs, slashing through the curse user's ankles in a single stroke–

The woman screams–

The chauffeur bowls headlong into her, grabbing at the doll in her hands–

The woman tightens her hand into a fist. Shiki chokes at the sensation of a phantom hand crushing her body.

She can't move. She can't breathe. She can't–!

"Shiki-sama!" the young man roars, somehow successfully pinning the hissing, spitting curse user beneath himself in the panicked struggle. The power of desperation, perhaps. And abruptly, the invisible pressure lifts from Shiki's body, and suddenly she can breathe again. "I have the doll! Please, you need to–"

BANG.

… Brown eyes. Dark brown, almost black.

It's such an inane, irrelevant detail to be focusing on. But in the split second that Shiki looks up and makes direct eye contact with the young chauffeur, that's all she can notice.

And then a bullet wound appears directly in the middle of his forehead, accompanied by a gory splatter of red.

The young man falls.

… She doesn't even know his name, and now he's… dead. Dead, like Isao-san. Because of her.

"You're fucking dead!" the woman roars, her face contorted in rage. She sits up, shoving the chauffeur's listless, bloody corpse off of her disgustedly. Corpse. That's right. He's only a corpse now –even though he'd been living, breathing, fighting only mere seconds ago. Shiki can see it. She sees it all so clearly. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, my legs, my legs–!"

The woman's head snaps towards Shiki in the next heartbeat, eyes alight with incandescent fury. "How dare you!"

She raises her fist threateningly–

No. No, the woman is not just raising her hand. She has the cursed doll again.

"Cut my ankles, will you?" The curse user's hands twist viciously at the doll's legs, and Shiki drops to the ground like a stone, as an agonizing pain lances sharply through her legs without warning. Eerie lines glimmer unnaturally before her eyes, bright and pulsating–

"Maybe I should just rip off your legs," the woman hisses viciously. "Or how about an arm? What do you think about that, ojou-sama?"

The doll's right arm bends backwards at an impossible angle. There's an audible crack that comes from Shiki's right arm correspondingly, accompanied by another dizzying burst of pain that threatens to overwhelm her senses.

A soft, pained sound falls from Shiki's lips.

"My client might want you alive, but they never specified in what condition," the woman glares spitefully, hatefully. Then smiles. "So I won't pull your head off like I did that bodyguard of yours. But disobedient girls need to be taught a lesson."

… The agony that flares anew inside her body is white-hot, searing. It makes it hard to formulate any coherent thoughts, makes it hard to concentrate–

But despite every new pulse of torturous pain that curses Shiki's fragile body, somehow she notices something… flickering, in the air.

Shiki's world is a world full of deathly red lines; that much hasn't changed. But… there's something more to it, now. Cracked lines cover the entirety of the ground that she's bleeding out onto, but there's undeniably something more to the countless lines spread out before her, twisting and spiraling up into the open air.

Blood trickles down the length of her torn shoulder, pain flaring unevenly down to her bones. But somehow, the pain only registers as a distant afterthought to her now, as Shiki finds her attention wholly consumed by the new lines coalescing in front of her eyes.

"… Yellow."

"Hah? What's that?" The woman's voice rings mockingly between them. "Is this finally too much for you? Losing your little mind over there, ojou-sama?"

The doll's right pinky is summarily and mercilessly crushed. Correspondingly, Shiki is vaguely aware of how her own right pinky turns purple and blotchy with a sick-sounding snap, falling limp in a way that a normal finger has no right to be.

But she sees it, finally sees it with crystal-perfect clarity in this moment–

A yellow line. That distinct yellow line swirling through the air, glowing brightly as it connects Shiki to the doll in the woman's hands. She sees it so clearly. Clearer and clearer still, with every passing second.

Open and close.

… She understands it, now.

"Your technique," Shiki says, her voice a soft whisper, "Is yellow. Like sunflowers."

"… The hell are you on about?"

Shiki ignores the woman.

At this point, the little girl has long lost count of all the injuries that her body has suffered. Her right arm is useless. Three fingers on her left hand have been crushed similarly to her pinky, her thumb included, leaving her unable to even hold the knife properly. Everything hurts, hurts, so much worse than any training session she's ever experienced. But Kiyohira-sensei's voice echoes steadily in her head, telling her things like Drop your weapon and die, and somehow Shiki finds the strength to grip the knife tightly in her hand even despite the blinding pain.

Then she raises her arm, and cuts.

The yellow line vanishes instantly beneath the point of her blade with little fanfare, dissolving into nothingness.

(It might just be her imagination, but for a single moment, Shiki feels so light. As if there have been invisible shackles chaining her body all this time that finally, finally disappeared.)

"… And what was that supposed to do, little ojou-sama?" For all the woman's bravado, there's still the faintest note of something just slightly uneasy trickling into her voice. But it disappears quickly enough, and her next words are confident with arrogance. "Just stay put and sit tight. There's nothing you can do, all your guards are dead and I'll have backup arriving soon enough. Don't worry, though, I've got no plans to kill my meal ticket."

Wordlessly, Shiki slowly rises to her feet, swaying unevenly from the pain. Something grinds with sudden, needle-sharp agony in her ankle when she attempts to put pressure on her left foot, which nearly sends her straight back to the ground. Shiki instinctively catches herself on her right hand, and the entire length of her arm burns.

But it doesn't stop Shiki from standing back on her feet once more.

"Are you a glutton for punishment or something?" The curse user sounds baffled by the resistance she's seeing. "What part of stay put and sit tight is so hard to understand?"

The woman twists the doll's leg–

But nothing happens.

There's no additional, inexplicable pain. Shiki's leg does not contort unnaturally. And even though she's limping as she slowly makes her way towards the curse user, Shiki does not falter.

"What…?" The woman frowns. Crushes the doll's legs in her hands again, and hisses when Shiki remains wholly unaffected. Her fingers tighten over the doll, tighter and tighter and tighter still –before it finally dawns on her: Shiki is no longer beholden to her cursed doll technique.

Her jaw drops disbelievingly. "… How the fuck did you… y-you can negate cursed techniques? How?! That's not your technique!"

Indeed, Shiki's cursed technique is certainly not the negation of other cursed techniques. Instead, Shiki's ability revolves around the perception of death, and most everything that exists in the world is flawed. Trees and rocks and flowers. Humans.

Cursed techniques are evidently no exception.

Beginning and end. Open and close.

The woman curses, and fumbles behind her frantically as Shiki slowly approaches her. She whips out her handgun, points it towards Shiki's legs, and fires without hesitation–

But nothing happens. Empty clicks ring out into the silence, and a distinct horror finally flashes across the woman's features at the realization.

The curse user had no more bullets, no weapons that she could use. Shiki was no longer hostage to her cursed technique, either. And the curse user was immobilized –the tendons in her ankles had been severed earlier, so there wasn't even any way for her to run. Her scuffle with the nameless chauffeur had not left her entirely unscathed, either.

The situation was no longer in her favor.

But no self-respecting sorcerer gives up without a fight, even a curse user. Especially a curse user, perhaps. Shiki tilts her head to the side, easily dodging the empty handgun that's thrown at her, and watches impassively as the woman determinedly struggles, rising to her elbows and attempting to drag herself away.

It's a futile effort, and both of them know it.

Shiki's trail of bloody footprints come to a stop directly in front of the curse user, cutting off any chance of escape.

"Don't do this," the woman says hurriedly in a rush, before Shiki even has a chance to open her mouth to say anything. "You don't want to do this, trust me. I-I surrender! I surrender, okay? Surely you have questions that you want to ask me?"

… Not really. As Shiki looks down upon the curse user, there aren't really any questions that come to her mind. All she can think about is how the chauffeur had tried desperately to defend her, even despite his own terror. How the young man had fallen like a puppet with its strings cut, a bullet dark in the middle of his forehead. The strange expression Isao-san had looked at her with, right before his head fell off. And the satisfaction that had lit up in the woman's eyes at their deaths, manically gleeful and utterly unrepentant.

Even now, Shiki still doesn't feel the urge to cry. But there's something inside her chest that's… strangely, incomprehensibly hollow.

The curse user squawks when Shiki's only response is to raise the knife in her hand without a word.

"Wait, wait, what the hell?!" she bursts out. "Look, I'm sorry about the bodyguards if that's what you're pissed about, but it was just part of the job! I wasn't even going to kill you! And I-I'm more useful to you alive, don't you realize that?!"

"But I want to kill you," Shiki tells her simply.

This statement promptly kills off any further protests from the woman as she stares up at the little girl with wide eyes, stunned into silence.

For a brief moment, the silence stretches endlessly between them.

"… 'Civilian child from a regular background' my ass," the woman finally says, dark eyes fluttering shut as a bitter smile curves across her lips. "Hime-sama, you fool."

Shiki raises her knife. There's a slight tremble in her hand, likely the result of multiple bruised, broken fingers.

The little girl pauses. Then, thoughtfully, the way she'd remembered the woman saying to the young chauffeur earlier, "Any last words?"

"Nah," the curse user's smile widens. "… Just make it quick, will you?"

The knifepoint in Shiki's hands immediately stills, then slashes down.

…

It's… easy.

… As easy as Shiki has always secretly suspected it to be. There should be resistance, she knows. When a blade cuts through flesh, there should be resistance. When it hits the bone, there should be resistance. And a knife-blade is short, much too short to fully cut through a grown person's body, anyways.

But none of that matters, in face of Shiki's technique. Her knife slips easily into the cracks of those red lines, slashing through cleanly with no resistance at all, as flesh and bone alike parts easily beneath the tip of her blade. Immediately, Shiki's senses are overwhelmingly assaulted by the heavy, pungent scent of blood as the curse user –falls apart, for lack of a better descriptor.

With a wet, fleshy splatter, the woman's body is neatly detached into six separate, uneven portions spread all over the asphalt ground.

It's…

It's bloody. Blood, there's so much blood. It's all so gory, so messy, and it's… there's… there's so much. Did a human body really hold so much blood? The woman's blood is red-black and thick, and Shiki thinks she sees something dark and fleshy spilling out from the woman's open chest cavity onto the ground. She doesn't know what it is.

Shiki continues staring.

It's bone-chilling and macabre and disturbing, the sight before her. The sight of a human sliced to pieces like this. But somehow, drawn by a strange impulse that she can't quite name, Shiki finds herself slowly crouching down and reaching out with a single hand to dip her fingers into that red-black blood spilling everywhere.

Warm.

The blood is warm. It's so warm. And unlike how it appears on the ground, pooled together and dark, when Shiki draws back it's clear to see that the woman's blood shines a bright crimson upon her skin.

Almost as bright as the countless red lines pulsating in the world around her.

Shiki stares blankly at the blood on her hands. The blood that she'd spilled. The blood that she'd chosen to spill.

"Ah," she startles, finally realizing– "I… broke my promise."

Right, her promise. She'd promised Kento-ojichan, hadn't she? But everything today had just happened so swiftly, so suddenly, and Shiki hadn't… she hadn't really considered…

Promise me you'll be careful, Kento-ojichan had asked of her. Promise me that you'll live.

… But this wasn't anything like that. This wasn't –this hadn't been some life-or-death situation, where it was kill or be killed for Shiki. Maybe it had been for Isao-san and the nameless chauffeur, but… not for Shiki. The curse user had made it abundantly clear that she hadn't planned on killing Shiki. Yes, she'd inflicted all manner of torturous injuries on Shiki using her doll technique, but she hadn't tried to kill her.

And Shiki consciously chose to kill her regardless.

… Maybe it's something about that look in the woman's eyes, she thinks to herself. That visible satisfaction she'd noticed when the woman had gracelessly dropped Isao-san's headless doll to the ground and crushed it underfoot. Or maybe it was the way the curse user had shot the young chauffeur viciously, with her expression bared halfway between a snarl and a smile.

Curse user. Shiki knows the term. This woman was a sorcerer who used their technique to kill and do harm to others, and clearly had no compunctions about the morality of doing so. Who actively enjoyed it, even.

Or maybe, maybe it doesn't have anything to do with any of that at all. Maybe Shiki is just trying to make excuses for herself. That might also be it. Maybe Shiki is just attempting to justify her decision in the aftermath. But it won't change the truth of what happened –that Shiki chose to kill someone. Another human being.

Would Kento-ojichan forgive her for it? … Shiki knows that Kento-ojichan loves her, but something like this… she doesn't know. She really, really doesn't know. What would Kento-ojichan think about Shiki, if he knew that she hadn't used her ability to kill curses or protect herself, but instead to stain her hands with another person's blood?

… Quite literally so, even.

Abruptly, Shiki hurriedly stands up and straightens, although the sudden movement causes her to sway unevenly from a bout of dizzying, lightheaded vertigo. There's a fresh burst of pain from somewhere in her legs, but Shiki decisively ignores it.

She needs to… she needs to leave. Yes. She needs to find help. Shiki is currently stranded on a mountain road in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by three dead bodies and probably several more somewhere a little ways off from the roadside, and she needs to… leave. Hadn't the curse user mentioned something about reinforcements being on the way, too?

Shiki is heavily injured, and only armed with a bloody knife. She's completely lost and doesn't have a phone. The chauffeur probably doesn't have a phone, either, because Shiki doesn't remember seeing him with one, and anyone in their right mind definitely would've tried calling for help when they found themselves under attack. So.

The little girl carefully limps her way back over to Isao-san's cold, headless body. Stumbling slightly, she claps her mangled hands together in front of her as best as she can, determinedly ignoring the accompanying spike of pain as she bows respectfully.

"Please excuse me, Isao-san."

Thankfully, Isao-san does have a phone on him. Shiki opens the flip-phone, and pauses as she realizes that she… doesn't really know what to do. She's never actually used a phone before, although she knows the general gist of it? Input the numbers and press 'call,' right?

It's a good thing that Kento-ojichan had previously made sure that Shiki memorized his number–

–Shiki doesn't want to call Kento-ojichan. The brutal realization comes to her, swift and sudden in its paralyzing intensity.

… There's only one other number that she knows by heart, then.

The little girl slowly sinks to the ground on shaky legs, gingerly attempting not to aggravate any of her injuries as she carefully presses the buttons on the phone. It takes a few tries, since her hands are inexplicably trembling again, somehow. Likely from a combination of pain and exhaustion.

The little girl glances to the side as she sits down. Isao-san's head is still lying there, crusted with blood, and it's…

It doesn't feel quite right, to just leave him there like that. Shiki hesitates, then before she can second-guess herself, gently reaches over and picks up his head.

It feels… strange. Shiki feels strange.

She tries not to think too much about it.

(Isao-san's skin is cold beneath her bruised fingertips. Goosebumps prickle over her skin.)

The dial tone from Isao-san's phone rings, rings, rings against her ear. A static sound that's almost hypnotic in the bloodstained silence, to the point that Shiki almost finds herself nodding off–

Then, there's a soft click from the other end.

"If this is about me forgetting the curtain, I know already, okay? Yaga-sensei already chewed me out for it earlier! Low profile, whatever, yadda yadda ya–"

"Satoru-oniichan," slips out from Shiki's lips automatically at the familiar sound of her cousin's voice, before she's even really registered saying anything at all.

There's a distinct pause from the other end of the line, followed by a surprised, "Shiki? What are you… wait, why do you have Isao's phone?"

"Isao-san was assigned to me when I left the compound earlier," Shiki responds. "Satoru-oniichan, we were… attacked, in the car ride. Everything's a complete mess right now. I, um, I really don't know what to do anymore."

"Attacked?!" Her cousin's voice raises sharply. "What in the world just –hang on, not right now, Suguru, my cute little baby cousin is calling me– sorry, ignore that bit. You said you were attacked? Are you still alright?"

"Yes. A little roughed up, but I'm fine, Satoru-oniichan." Of course she's fine. Shiki is the only person left who's still alive, after all.

"… Y'know what, I think I'm going to have to be the judge of that." Satoru-oniichan clicks his tongue, clearly dissatisfied. Then, demandingly, "Where's Isao? Is he still with you?"

Shiki reflexively glances down, where Isao-san's decapitated head is currently resting on her lap. "… Yes?"

"Okay. Can you give the phone to him?"

"…" Belatedly, Shiki realizes that she probably should've mentioned this at the very start of their conversation, "Isao-san is dead."

"He's WHAT?"

.

.

Shiki's sense of time blurs, after that lengthy phone call. Maybe it's a few minutes, maybe it's an hour. But eventually, she looks up to see Satoru-oniichan crouching down in front of her, and–

And it's so silly.

Shiki hadn't cried when Isao-san's head was ripped off in front of her. She hadn't cried when the nameless chauffeur had been killed. She hadn't cried when the curse user had used her doll technique to inflict all manner of injuries onto her body.

But the instant that Satoru-oniichan appears before her, suddenly her eyes start watering.

Hilariously enough, her cousin's cheery smile promptly melts into an expression of horror at this. "Why are you crying?!"

Shiki doesn't know either! The little girl sniffles in a vain attempt to stem the tears as she stutters, "I-I'm so-rry–"

"Shit, this doesn't look good." A dark-haired young man appears behind Satoru-oniichan. Geto Suguru-san, Shiki vaguely recalls. Satoru-oniichan's classmate. "There's way too much blood, I'm surprised this hasn't attracted anything yet. C'mon, we should–"

Geto-san's terse, businesslike tone cuts off the moment his eyes land upon Shiki, and he blanches.

"Is she holding someone's head?!"

… It's not so much an actual question as it is an outright aghast exclamation. Stunned incredulity. A question that does not require any real answer, not when the truth is there to be seen. Shiki and Satoru-oniichan both glance down simultaneously to where Shiki is still cradling Isao-san's head over her bloodstained kimono, and her cousin promptly makes a face.

"Yeah, I think I'm siding with Suguru on this one," he tells her. "What the hell?"

"Language," Shiki blurts out, instinctively channeling her inner Kiyohira-sensei. "I don't know, I just… it didn't feel right to just leave Isao-san there like that on the ground? And I… didn't really know what else to do."

Towards the end, even Shiki can tell that her faltering explanation is a little lackluster. But she doesn't really… she doesn't really know how to explain it, or what she'd been thinking at the time. What possessed her to pick up Isao-san's decapitated head and hold on to it?

But she didn't… she couldn't just leave him like that, either. So what had she been supposed to do?

Satoru-oniichan stares at her for a long moment, clearly unimpressed. "Well, for starters, this is highly unsanitary–"

"Satoru!"

"–and, secondly," her cousin continues on without skipping a beat, "Usually you don't want to stick around a sorcerer's corpse unless it's to dispose of the body. Sometimes the cursed energy gets a little… hm. Volatile, should we say. It doesn't always happen, but there's a reason why there's procedures for these things. Vengeful spirits and all that, y'know?"

"Oh," Shiki nods. "… What do we need to do for all of the… bodies, then?"

"You are not going to do anything," Satoru-oniichan says firmly. "On the other hand, I am going to be making a few calls to get a cleanup crew here. And to figure out who the hell thought it was a good idea to let you leave with only Isao for protection like this."

Shiki thinks for a moment, "Kiyohira-sensei said that Isao-san was a 'Special Grade One.'"

The white-haired teen snorts, "Are you kidding me? He's barely a Grade One! I could beat him with both hands tied behind my back–"

"Is this really the time for this?" Geto-san breaks in sharply. "Look, I get that you're pissed at the guy, but he's dead and your little cousin looks like she's about to start crying again. We need to get moving, Satoru, we've still got a mission after this. And if we stick around here any longer, then we're not going to have enough time to take a detour to the school for Shoko to take a proper look at her injuries."

"Yeah, you're right." Satoru-oniichan grumbles. Then leans forward, easily picking Shiki up in his arms, though he is careful not to jostle her injuries too much. "… And drop the head already."

The little girl glances down at Isao-san's head. That curious expression, those unseeing eyes…

"Shiki. The head. Drop it."

The girl hesitates, then carefully holds out the bloodied head towards Geto-san. "Um, would you mind putting Isao-san back with his body, please?"

It's hard to describe the expression that flashes across Geto-san's face in this moment. Something that's almost… disturbed. Pitying?

But… but Shiki doesn't want to throw Isao-san's head like, like some temari ball! Shiki might not really know or like Isao-san all that much in the first place, but that just seemed to be wildly disrespectful.

"… Alright, give it here," Geto-san finally says with a sigh, and cautiously takes Isao-san's head from her hands. He turns and stiffly places the head on top of Isao-san's body.

A head resting atop the stomach… the sight looks so weird, so jarring, but it's better than having Isao-san's head roll around listlessly on the ground.

"Thank you, Geto-san," Shiki says politely.

"… Don't mention it," the dark-haired teen responds. Then smooths out his expression, giving her a small, soft smile that's probably meant to be reassuring. "Well. With that out of the way, let's get going now, okay?"

Shiki curls closer to her cousin as she attempts to offer back a small, tremulous smile of her own. "… Okay."

.

.

Extra.

.

"Alright, spill. What's wrong with her?"

Satoru sniffs. "Excuse you, there's nothing wrong with my adorable little cousin!"

Geto Suguru levels an unimpressed look at his –unfortunately– best friend. Part of him almost wants to shove the idiot straight off of the back of the airborne curse that they're riding on, courtesy of Suguru's own Cursed Spirit Manipulation. But such a childish act would be completely useless against Satoru's Limitless, not to mention how he's currently still holding Nanami's little niece in his arms.

The girl had finally grown tired enough to fall asleep against him. It would almost be a cute sight, seeing the two of them cuddled up together like this –if the girl in question weren't covered head to toe in blood and scarred with a distressing number of injuries.

Gojo Shiki might've appeared to be perfectly fine on the surface when briefly conversing with them earlier, but Suguru didn't need the Six Eyes to tell that those injuries did not look good.

Still.

"Your 'adorable little cousin' was drenched in blood and holding onto a man's decapitated head like there was absolutely nothing wrong when we found her," Suguru says flatly. "You call that nothing wrong?"

Satoru shrugs, "I'm not exactly happy about it either, and I'm not saying that this is a good thing. But… she's definitely going to see worse once she becomes an active sorcerer, Suguru."

Suguru closes his eyes. Takes in a deep breath, and firmly reminds himself that, despite that mask of endless cheer and flippant devil-may-care attitude, Gojo Satoru isn't exactly 'normal' himself, either.

… Is this what it means to grow up in a sorcery clan?

Suguru still remembers when he'd first met the little girl. Nanami's niece. Their kouhai had been uncharacteristically panicked, when discovering that his sole remaining blood relative had suddenly vanished without a trace from the hospital. They'd even suspected that it was the doing of some high grade curse, initially, before eventually discovering that the true culprit was the Gojo Clan.

He recalls encountering the little girl, when Satoru had snatched her out of the hospital. Thin, frail, looking as if a good gust of wind would blow her away like the small dandelion tuft that she'd resembled. White hair, the sort of pure snow-white that he'd only seen in Satoru before –and eldritch blue eyes.

Cursed blue eyes.

But even despite those eyes, she'd seemed like a sweet child, completely unlike a certain someone with the Six Eyes. Shy, soft-spoken. And the way Shiki had clung to Nanami, the affection between them… all of that had been genuine.

It's difficult to reconcile what he remembers with the image that had been seared into his mind today: A white-haired young girl, sitting serenely in a sea of blood as calmly as you please, with a fucking decapitated head in her arms.

… The curse user's body they'd found only a little ways off from her had been sliced neatly into six different pieces. Suguru might not be entirely clear on the particulars of the girl's technique, but he's heard enough from Satoru to be aware that it revolves around 'cutting lines.' Seeing the result of it being used on another human like this… it's…

If the Suguru in his first year of Tokyo Jujutsu High had walked in upon this scene, he'd probably have lost his lunch immediately, and be plagued by nightmares for a good month or so thereafter.

Really, it was almost a relief, when the girl had started crying in front of Satoru. At least she can still cry. But even so, something about this entire situation still left Suguru feeling unbalanced, off-kilter and out of sorts.

He sighs.

"I bet Nanami's going to have a field day when he finds out about this," Suguru mutters under his breath, one hand coming up to rub tiredly at his forehead.

"No bet," Satoru remarks dryly.

"… So, what's next?" Suguru side-eyes the other teen. "I doubt you'll be good with just letting things rest like this."

Yeah, no. Satoru isn't the type of person who grows attached to others easily, being the walking disaster that he is. But for some reason, he honestly seems to have taken a shine to Nanami's niece, even though he's definitely not someone who likes children. That would probably be Haibara –but then again, Haibara likes everyone.

Regardless. Maybe it's because Satoru relates to her, somehow, for having cursed eyes just as he does. Or maybe it's because he relates to her on some other level entirely; as far as Suguru knows, normal children raised in a normal background typically do not adjust well when abruptly thrust into the world of sorcery.

Heck, even Suguru himself had quite the learning curve to struggle with, and he'd been able to see curses since the day he was born. Not to mention, he'd been a grown teenager with his own fair share of experience under his belt, upon his introduction to the jujutsu world.

Shiki might've been raised normally, but considering what he'd witnessed today, there's absolutely no doubt in Suguru's mind that she is very much not normal. He idly wonders if Nanami has realized this about his young niece yet.

… It's not necessarily a bad thing, not being normal. Just… honestly unexpected, regarding Shiki in this context. And mildly concerning. Or outright alarming, depending on how one chose to look at it.

Satoru stretches, although Suguru notes that he is careful to avoid shifting the girl who's still fast asleep on top of him.

"Well. First things first, we're going to get Shoko to take a look at her," Satoru nods. "Since there's no way I'm leaving her at the school by herself and Nanami's out, I figured that we could just bring her along with us on our mission after that. Then, I'm going to–"

"Wait, hold up," Suguru holds up his hand, already feeling another headache budding at his temples. "… Are you being serious? You want to take a six year old kid along with us when we're supposed to be guarding the Star Plasma Vessel? Shouldn't we be dropping her off with your clan first or something?"

"No," Satoru promptly responds. "This isn't the first time that my clan's majorly screwed up regarding Shiki's protection. If they think I'm going to hand her back over again so easily, they've got another thing coming."

Suguru frowns. "Look, I get that there's something… sketchy, with whatever's going on in your clan right now, and I understand why you have your reservations. But I really don't know about taking a kid with us on a mission like this, especially not one that's so important. Can't you just leave her with Yaga-sensei, or something?"

"Yaga-sensei isn't going to be around, he's off doing something with his dolls," Satoru shakes his head. "'Sides, I mean, like. If we're going to be playing bodyguard anyways, adding Shiki here won't hurt, right? Or are you saying that you can't even protect a six year old kid?"

Suguru glares, albeit without any real heat. "… I know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to work."

His friend flashes a quicksilver smile. "C'mon, Suguru, it'll be fine! You really think anyone can get past the two of us?"

He huffs, feeling an answering smile rise involuntarily to his lips in response. "… Alright, fine, we'll do it your way. But you're going to be the one explaining this entire debacle to Nanami, got it?"

"So cruel," Satoru laments with a bright grin.

Suguru rolls his eyes.

Chapter Text

Shiki yawns.

"Awake?" A familiar voice sounds somewhere above her, a lazy drawl. That's…

"Satoru-oniichan?" The little girl blinks blearily, reaching up to rub at her eyes–

–which she probably shouldn't be doing, given her injuries and the sorry state of her fingers. Shiki immediately pauses as the thought occurs to her, but… there's no pain, surprisingly enough. Which can't be right. She knows that she'd been hurt, during her struggle against the curse user.

But in this moment as Shiki looks down at her hand, confused by the conspicuous lack of pain, everything is… normal. The skin over her hand is wholly smooth, unblemished, and there are no signs of any bruising or scarring at all.

As if she'd never been injured in the first place.

… Now that she's fully awake and actually paying attention, it's not just her hand, either. All of her cuts and bruises and scrapes have been miraculously healed, almost as if she'd never been in a fight to begin with.

Almost.

"Feeling better?" Satoru-oniichan adjusts his grip, and Shiki realizes that her cousin is still carrying her in his arms. "We dropped by the school earlier and got Shoko to take a look at you, but you were out of it the entire time."

"… Oh."

So it really wasn't all just a fever dream, then. Well, that explains why Shiki isn't dressed in the flower-printed kimono she remembers putting on this morning, either. In this moment, the ordinary sensation of a simple white T-shirt and shorts somehow weighs strangely upon her skin.

… It had all been real. Shiki had really been attacked by a curse user. Isao-san had been killed. As had the young driver, unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In her mind's eye, Shiki can still see red-black blood pooling over the asphalt ground.

"Shoko said you might be tired for a bit," her cousin peers down at her. "Want to take another nap or something?"

Tired? She's still feeling a little tired, certainly, but it's… strange.

Yes, there's a distinct lingering soreness in her body, the sort of fatigue that Shiki has grown familiar with given her own experiences of overexerting herself during her physical training. But more than that, there's also this sense of… mental fatigue, oddly enough. She's not quite sure how to put it.

But, it doesn't make any sense for Shiki to feel this way. She'd been sleeping, hadn't she? So there's no reason that she would still be mentally tired now that she was awake.

Weird.

"I'm fine," the little girl finally decides, carefully shelving her internal confusion without a word. "… May I know what's happening right now?"

"Nothing you'll need to worry about," another voice responds to her question. Shiki twists, turning around to blink owlishly at Geto-san, who's currently typing away on his phone. The teenager glances up when he realizes that the girl is looking in his direction, and offers a brief smile.

"Really, it's nothing for you to worry about," he repeats, emphasizing the words. "Satoru and I have a bodyguard mission to get to right now, and we've decided to bring you along since… since we couldn't really drop you off anywhere on such short notice. Sorry if it's a little uncomfortable, but we'll definitely keep you safe."

Shiki slowly nods at the explanation. She'd thought that Satoru-oniichan might immediately pass her off to his clan again after retrieving her from the car wreckage, but… it's nice, to be able to stay together with her cousin a little longer. Just a little bit longer, before she's locked away like a bird in a cage again. Given the recent incident, Shiki wouldn't be surprised if her movements were to be restricted even further than they already were.

"Thank you," is all she says. "… I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I will be in your care, then."

There's a slight twitch in Geto-san's face, his expression darkening for a moment as if he's reminded of something not entirely pleasant. Shiki doesn't understand… was there something wrong with what she just said?

… Probably not, given that his expression quickly smooths out when he notices her confusion. Geto-san even reaches over and pats her on the head, too, so it's… most likely safe to say that it really wasn't Shiki that he was upset with, however briefly? But then, why did he react that way?

"You don't need to say thanks or apologize for something like that," the older boy tells her, which clarifies absolutely nothing.

"… Yeah, I probably should've staged an intervention way sooner," Satoru-oniichan pokes her in the cheek obnoxiously with a bony finger. "You've really been stuck around the elders for way too long, Shiki. Was I ever this impressionable when I was your age?"

Geto-san clicks his tongue, "It would certainly explain a lot about you now, wouldn't it?"

"Hah?" Satoru-oniichan turns on his friend indignantly, "Are you trying to pick a fight?"

"I would never," Geto-san deadpans. "… Y'know, I've actually been meaning to mention this for awhile now, but you should really try and be more mindful of the way you talk, Satoru. You're way too rude. You should consider–"

The young man's words are broken off by a distinct boom. Startled, all three of them glance upwards toward the source of the unexpected explosion.

Smoke billows out from the side of a tall building, a clear indicator of something gone awry.

"… That's the place where the girl we've been assigned to protect is staying at, isn't it?" Satoru-oniichan cranes his neck back to look higher. "Is it our fault if she's already dead?"

Geto-san gives his friend a long look, but Satoru-oniichan remains utterly unrepentant for his attitude. "… I'll head up to take a look. Can you take care of things down here?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I got it," Satoru-oniichan waves off his friend idly. Shiki watches on with no small amount of interest as Geto-san proceeds to form a seal, cursed energy pooling beneath his fingertips, and suddenly summons a cursed spirit from seemingly out of nowhere.

It's not her first time seeing cursed spirits –Shiki has seen more than her fair share of cursed spirits during her time with the Gojo Clan– but it's her first time seeing someone pluck one out of thin air like this. And it's tamed too, if the way that the manta ray-esque cursed spirit obediently carries Geto-san on its back is any indication of things.

"Stop looking so impressed," her cousin grumbles as Geto-san takes off towards the site of the explosion. "It's just Cursed Spirit Manipulation. What's so interesting about that? Limitless is a hundred times cooler!"

Shiki considers the words for a moment. "… Can you fly with Limitless?"

"'Course I can!" Satoru-oniichan's response is as instant as it is thoroughly indignant.

"Okay," the little girl nods. "Then I guess Limitless is cool, too."

"… What do you mean, 'I guess?'" The white-haired teen pulls back to give her a distinctly affronted look. "Aren't you supposed to be firmly on my side for this? Am I not your favorite Toru-nii?"

"Toru-nii is just being silly now," Shiki reaches over and pats her cousin on his cheek. "Are you going to kill him?"

"Nah, no way," he shrugs carelessly. "Suguru might get on my nerves sometimes, but he's a friend."

"Not Geto-san," the girl shakes her head, exasperated. "That other person who's throwing knives at you right now, Satoru-niichan."

"Aw, is my cute little cousin worried for me?" There's a delighted note to the older boy's voice and not one jot of concern whatsoever. But considering how the sudden onslaught of knives speeding towards them has been solidly frozen in the air several inches away, it's clear that his confidence isn't misplaced.

Shiki peers over her cousin's shoulder to look at the knives. They're fairly small, and look like they wouldn't be too difficult to handle for her, even with her childish hands and stature. Shiki is being specifically trained to use longer blades, and she surmises that it probably wouldn't be too difficult to pick up some knife work on top of that. And… most importantly, knives are easy to hide and easy to carry. If Shiki had knives on her when she'd been attacked earlier, then maybe…

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of slow clapping.

"Amazing," a new voice says. The person who'd just thrown knives at them.

… He's dressed oddly. There's a cape attached to his suit, and a dark mask covering the entire bottom half of his face. His hat looks a little strange and poofy, too, and is sharply emblazoned with the dark letter 'Q' right in the middle.

"You're Gojo Satoru, aren't you?" the man continues, calm and unruffled despite having his knives stopped so easily. "You're famous. I've heard that you're strong, so why don't you show me if–"

The stranger cuts himself off mid sentence, eyes widening slightly as they fall upon Shiki.

"That's… is that the rumored Gojo child with new cursed eyes?" There's a clear thread of surprise in the man's voice as his attention suddenly shifts to her. Shiki resists the urge to frown, responding to the man's appraisal by turning her head away. She doesn't like the way he's looking at her. "How unexpected. I'll admit, the resemblance is certainly… uncanny."

"Keep your eyes to yourself," Satoru-oniichan says, "Before I decide that you're better off having them plucked from your head."

The man raises both hands in a harmless gesture of mock-surrender. "My bad, my bad. I assure you that I didn't mean anything by my curiosity. It's not every day that you get to take a look at an ocular curse like that though, yes?"

Her cousin tilts his head and smiles, unamused. "Try pulling the other foot, you think I'd buy that?"

"Now that's not a very nice thing to say," the strange man drawls, not even bothering with making any more flimsy excuses for himself as he drops into a combative stance, his intentions clear.

Satoru-oniichan doesn't bother with anything further than hooking a finger around the frame of his sunglasses to lower the shades, crystalline blue eyes flashing dangerously beneath the light.

"Here's how it's going to work," he tells the curse user. "You get the one chance, because my adorable little cousin has had a terrible day so far and I don't want to make a mess in front of her. Cry and apologize now, and maybe I won't kill you."

"You brat…!"

"Can I have his knives?" Shiki asks.

Satoru-oniichan hums. "Sure, go for it. It's not like he'll be needing them anymore, is it?"

It's probably the way he's being utterly ignored by them that finally ignites the man's fury. But despite the rage fueling him, he's still no match for Satoru-oniichan. One moment, the man is charging towards them, and in the next, he's been blown off of his feet by an invisible force and bodily thrown into a nearby tree.

It's a sight that's all too familiar for Shiki, who can't help but recall how Satoru-oniichan had waltzed in one day and proceeded to throw Kiyohira-sensei all over the place in his own home.

The one-sided 'fight' that ensues is almost laughably short.

Compared to the doll user that Shiki had fought and struggled so hard against… actually, forget that. Shiki can't really tell how this curse user would've compared to her in a straight fight, the knives he'd thrown at the beginning had been all she'd seen of his skill. Satoru-oniichan had then proceeded to thoroughly trounce the older man without ever moving a single inch from where he was standing, Limitless being more than enough to crush the curse user with no room for any resistance.

Shiki thinks she has a slightly better understanding of why the clan elders hold such reverence for Satoru-oniichan's Limitless and Six Eyes, from this perspective.

… Is this the sort of level of power that's going to be expected of her in the future, too?

Helplessness and powerlessness are not pleasant feelings to experience, not in the least. But it's good to have a clear goal in mind, and Shiki knows that she will become stronger. She has to. There's no other option for her, the way things look to be going forward.

"C'mere," Satoru-oniichan says distractedly, fiddling with his phone. Shiki notes her cousin's careless nonchalance after thrashing a dangerous curse user, observes the complete confidence with which he stands over his opponent's downed body. Gojo Satoru-sama alone is the Honored One. "Let's take a photo to let Suguru know that everything is perfectly okay down here!"

Shiki isn't anywhere near close to her cousin's level of power. She doesn't know if that's even something realistic to expect of herself in the future, not with how much she'd struggled against fighting a single curse user on her own earlier. But Satoru-oniichan seems to think that she has potential, and so does the Gojo Clan. All Shiki can do for now is to work hard so that she'll be able to live up to those expectations someday.

Then, maybe…

"Smile, Shiki!"

The soft click of a camera shutter sounds from Satoru-oniichan's handheld phone.

.

.

Amanai Riko.

That's the name of the girl that Satoru-oniichan and Geto-san have been assigned to protect for the duration of this mission. She's a 'Star Plasma Vessel,' and slated for a 'merger' with Tengen-sama in a few days. Tengen-sama, the ancient sorcerer with a cursed technique of Immortality who served as a fundamental pillar of jujutsu society, since he was the one maintaining all the complex barriers over both jujutsu schools.

Shiki… doesn't really know how to feel about it. The merger, that is. Or, maybe it would be a little more accurate to say that she has no particular opinions on this matter, and that's… probably a bad sign. Because Shiki is perceptive enough to deduce from the short explanation given to her that merger is essentially death for Amanai-san, and death is typically not something that anyone would willingly welcome with open arms.

I'm more useful to you alive, don't you realize that?

The doll user's voice sounds in her ears, and Shiki ignores it entirely. Shiki might have yet to pin down how she feels about the entire debacle, precisely, but she knows enough of her own nature by this point to admit to herself that she doesn't regret what she did. She doesn't regret it. And it had been beyond easy, to grip the knife and let it fall, even with full knowledge of exactly what she was doing.

Mm… she really is a horrible person, isn't she?

Amanai Riko is not a horrible person. She's very… vibrant. Spirited? Excitable and energetic in a way that leaves Shiki feeling a little tired just looking at her, and if the slouch in Satoru-oniichan's shoulders is anything to go by, her cousin probably feels similarly on the matter.

"Listen up, you simpletons: Tengen-sama is me, and I am Tengen-sama!" Amanai-san declares impassionedly, dark eyes shining. She tosses her head, flipping her braid behind her shoulder. "You consider merger and death to be one and the same, but you're all gravely mistaken! With the merger, I will become Tengen-sama… and Tengen-sama will also become me! My will, my spirit, my heart will all live on after merging–"

Shiki glances to the side as the older girl continues rambling. Satoru-oniichan and Geto-san are comparing something on their phones together, long having lost attention in Amanai-san's words. Shiki suddenly feels very tired.

"–are any of you still even listening?!"

"Obviously not," Satoru-oniichan drawls, finally looking up from his phone. "Geez, do you talk like that all the time? Do you even have any friends like this?"

"I talk just fine at school!" the girl roars back without skipping a beat. Then startles, as if just realizing something. "… School! Oh my god, Kuroi, what's the time?!"

Shiki gently tugs on her cousin's sleeve as Amanai-san whirls onto her housekeeper in a flurry of chatter, mildly confused and feeling like she's somehow missed a great deal of context in the past few seconds, even though she's been standing here this entire time. "Satoru-oniichan, she was targeted by curse users just now, wasn't she? … Should she really still be going to school like this?"

"See? Even the six year old here is more sensible," her cousin mutters under his breath, disgruntled, then raises his voice. "Oi, I really wouldn't recommend–"

"Nonsense! It's only noon, I'm still going!"

And with that, Amanai-san sweeps out of the room, leaving a ringing silence in her wake.

"… What the hell?" Satoru-oniichan gestures violently towards the door the girl had just left through. "Unbelievable. Are you seeing this?! What does that girl think she's doing?"

Going to school, as it turns out. Shiki had wondered for a moment there if the girl might've been joking, but… evidently not.

Satoru-oniichan even calls his teacher, at some point, probably for permission to just haul Amanai Riko back to Jujutsu High, where she would be much more well-defended from any threats. But no, apparently the mysterious Tengen-sama had left very specific instructions as to Amanai-san's care during the duration of their protection detail:

"Please oblige Amanai's requests."

Satoru-oniichan had been none too pleased to learn that. "Tch, they're being all soft on her. Isn't it obvious that it's a lot more dangerous like this?"

"Don't be like that, Satoru," Geto-san is more thoughtful in his approach. "After the merger, she'll be stuck down below Jujutsu High with Tengen-sama to form the school's barriers. I know she was spouting off those things about 'being one and the same with Tengen-sama' earlier, but… the truth of the matter is, she'll never be able to see things like this again. Friends, family, everything she holds dear…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Satoru-oniichan sighs.

"So let her enjoy herself," the dark-haired boy says firmly. "Our mission is as simple as that."

Shiki lightly swings her feet from where she's sitting on a stocky caterpillar-like cursed spirit. Geto-san had summoned it to carry her around, so Satoru-oniichan's hands could be free as the two of them surveyed Amanai-san's school.

"You're a nice person, Geto-san," the little girl surmises from his words.

The dark-haired teen blinks in surprise, "… Well, I don't know if I would go that far."

"'Ya really shouldn't."

"Satoru, would it kill you to keep your mouth shut for once–"

"I'm grateful," Amanai-san's housekeeper interjects from the side, bowing deeply. Kuroi, the energetic girl had called her. "Truly, thank you for allowing Riko to be able to spend more time with her friends. My lady does not have any relatives, her entire family had been involved in an incident when she was younger… I've been her only caretaker since."

"So that makes you her family, then, right?"

"… Yes," Kuroi-san responds with a distinctly watery sheen to her eyes.

It's obvious that Kuroi-san cares for Amanai-san. Shiki finds herself wondering if it's anything similar to the way Kento-ojichan cares for her. But Kento-ojichan is good in a way that Shiki is beginning to realize that she really, really isn't, and that's… that's…

Shiki is abruptly pulled out of her spiraling thoughts when the caterpillar-curse that she's sitting on suddenly bumps her hand with a friendly nudge. It's not cute –curses are beings fundamentally born from fear and malice, which is rarely cute– but there's something oddly endearing about the clumsy motion all the same. The uncanny timing of it also makes it seem as if the pudgy curse had intuited some disturbance in her emotions and was concerned for her.

She knows that it's all just her imagination, of course. Low-level curses like these are attuned more to their own destructive impulses than human emotions, even ones tamed and controlled by a powerful cursed technique.

Wait, cursed technique?

Shiki glances towards Geto-san on instinct. The older boy doesn't offer her anything beyond a slight smile, but it's enough to confirm Shiki's suspicions.

Geto-san really is a nice person, she thinks. Not like Satoru-oniichan. Satoru-oniichan would probably pout and complain if he knew about her thoughts, but Shiki won't waste her time entertaining any illusions on this matter.

She likes her cousin, of course. Shiki likes how he looks out for her, how he picks her up and carries her around so easily in his arms. How he pokes and prods and teases her like Shiki's eyes haven't been permanently stained an eldritch, inhuman blue. She likes how he possesses a cursed technique that won't ever allow Shiki to cut or harm him, accidentally or otherwise.

But despite it all, Satoru-oniichan is not nice. One wouldn't have to look any further than his usual interactions with the clan elders to see solid proof of that. Shiki wonders if this particular aspect of his character will turn out to be another point of similarity that they'll end up sharing between themselves. Ken-jichan probably wouldn't be pleased…

"Satoru, we've got a problem," Geto-san suddenly says. "Two of my surveillance curses in the school were just exorcised. We need to get to Amanai, now."

"Gotcha," Satoru-oniichan nods and heaves a sigh. "Guess we're going to have to just get to it, then. I'll bring Shiki with me, you get Kuroi and–"

"We don't know how many attackers there are," Geto-san shakes his head. "Best to keep your hands free, especially if you'll have to watch out for Amanai, too. It would be better for me to leave behind a few of my stronger cursed spirits for protection instead."

Her cousin stills for a moment. "And if that's not enough?"

"It will be," is the level, confident response. The two lock eyes for a moment, some unspoken conversation passing between them in a heartbeat.

On the other side, Kuroi-san swiftly surges to her feet. "I-I will come with you! Please, if my lady is in danger then I need to be–"

"A deadweight for us to watch out for?"

"Satoru!"

"What? You were thinking it, too!"

"I can take care of myself," Kuroi-san's face sets into a determined look. "If something happens to my lady, then I'd never be able to… please."

The boys exchange another look, and this time it's something a little more resigned.

"Have it your way," Satoru-oniichan grumbles. Then reaches over and ruffles Shiki's hair, "Be good and stay with Suguru's cursed spirits, okay? We'll be back before you know it."

"Kuroi-san, we won't stop you from entering the school yourself, but I'd like to ask that you remain with Shiki," Geto-san tells the older girl. Cursed energy swells in the air as he reaches out towards the caterpillar-curse that Shiki is seated upon, doing… something. "I don't want her to be left alone. And as long as you're not too far from each other, I'll be able to protect you with my cursed technique, too."

The pudgy cursed spirit doesn't look any different by the time he draws his hand back, but looks can be deceiving.

Shiki blinks, and the entire world shifts into eerie lines once more. The lines concentrated on the caterpillar curse somehow appear to be… denser. No, that's not quite the right way to describe it. It's more like there are multiple sets of fractured lines within the curse now, in addition to the red lines already existing upon it.

Multiple lines for multiple curses, Shiki is guessing.

Satoru-oniichan and Geto-san depart swiftly after that, rushing on ahead, and Kuroi-san and Shiki are left to catch up on their own. Strangely enough, Shiki doesn't find herself particularly bothered by this. Is it because she knows that they haven't left her entirely undefended? Is it because she knows that worrying is useless? Because there's nothing she can do about her situation in this moment, anyways?

… She's not quite sure what these thoughts say about her, and instead decides to distract herself with absently patting the caterpillar-curse as it merrily bounces along after Kuroi-san.

"My apologies, Gojo-san," the woman finally says to her as they enter the grounds of Amanai's school together. Satoru-oniichan and Geto-san are nowhere in sight. "I couldn't just sit still, not if there was something I could do for my lady–!"

"I understand." Well, not really. But if the relationship between Kuroi-san and Amanai-san is anything like what Shiki has with her oji-chan… Shiki knows what it's like to be concerned for a family member, to want to be by their side.

Even if it's for the best that they're kept separate.

"There's no need to apologize to me for this, Kuroi-san," she says calmly. "And I would prefer 'Shiki,' please. 'Gojo-san' is my cousin."

"Ah… of course," Kuroi-san falters for a moment, casting a quick glance in Shiki's direction that the little girl can't quite discern. "I… thank you, Shiki-san."

The little girl blinks slowly and says nothing, humming noncommittally in response.

Shiki isn't entirely surprised when they stumble across another curse user in short order. But this time, it's… a man wearing a paper bag over his head?

… She's starting to get the impression that all curse users are eccentrics to some degree; she has yet to see any compelling evidence suggesting otherwise.

"Are you with Q? Or the Time Vessel Association?" Dark-haired Kuroi-san demands, stepping forward in a way that coincidentally blocks Shiki from the curse user's line of sight. For all that she's dressed like a maid and armed with a mop, there's undeniably a certain dangerous air to the woman as she squares her shoulders and prepares to face an enemy. "… Probably the Time Vessel Association. Those associated with Q tend to wear pretty strange clothing, after all."

Wait, did wearing a paper bag over one's head not count as 'strange clothing?' Shiki is thrown for a loop. But Kuroi-san isn't wrong, because aside from that paper bag on his head, the curse user really is just dressed casually in regular streetwear. That's probably it, then.

And then the man melts entirely when Kuroi-san's broom hits him squarely between the legs. As in, his body literally liquefies into some strange sludge-like substance before crumbling away into nothing, only leaving behind a disembodied voice echoing in the empty air.

"Thirty million… thirty million…"

"Thirty million?" Kuroi-san frowns.

"Someone set a thirty million bounty on Amanai," Geto-san's voice is grim as he suddenly comes up behind them, making Kuroi-san jump in surprise. Shiki would've been startled, too, had the caterpillar-curse not perked towards its master's direction scant moments before he made his reappearance. Geto-san mutters a quick apology, before continuing, "Satoru's picked up Amanai just now. We're going to be heading back to Jujutsu High, it'll be easier to defend her there with the barriers. Also, did that curse user just–?"

"It's not a teleportation technique," Shiki says. The curse user's lines hadn't vanished to indicate teleportation –if anything, the lines on his body had increased as he crumbled into dust, which then begged the question of if what they had seen was his real body at all. "… Shikigami, maybe? Or a body double technique?"

Kuroi-san's eyes widen with panic at the assessment. "Geto-san, please go on ahead! Who knows what could happen with a cursed technique like that?"

"Right, I'll be going." Briefly, Geto-san pauses next to Shiki and pats her shoulder. "Stick together, Satoru and I will meet up with you guys in front of the school."

There is a flare of cursed energy as Geto-san summons a birdlike curse, leaping into the air and swiftly disappearing from sight once more.

Kuroi-san exhales slowly, long and trembling.

Shiki stares at the woman blankly for a few seconds, before something finally clicks together in her mind. It's a little hard to find the right words to say to Kuroi-san despite this, though. "… Satoru-oniichan and Geto-san are strong. Amanai-san will be fine."

"Am I really that obvious?" Kuroi-san lets out a shaky laugh. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be like this. I… I do trust them. I know they're strong, they're Special Grades, for heaven's sake, but I still…"

"But you still worry, regardless." Shiki nods. Then, consideringly, "Amanai-san is lucky to have you, Kuroi-san."

"It's kind of you to say that," the woman responds softly with a smile. "My lady is a sweet, lovely girl. I only wish… I only wish for her to be happy."

An earnest wish, only wanting the best for someone you care for.

"Do you think Amanai-san will be happy with the merger?"

… It's not the kindest question to ask of someone who genuinely cares for Amanai-san, of course it isn't. But Shiki only belatedly realizes that after the words have already left her mouth. Thankfully, Kuroi-san does not appear to take any offense, although her smile takes on a decidedly more melancholic edge.

"I will support the path that my lady has decided to take."

It's decidedly a non-answer if she's ever heard one. But Shiki recognizes that it would be cruel to push for an answer, and so she remains silent.

And the silence from the brief lull in their conversation is the only reason why Shiki catches the faint sound of something moving through the air.

It's only a light whisper of the whistling wind, soft enough to be absolutely nothing out of the ordinary at all. But given the day she's had so far, given that Shiki currently knows there are multiple curse users actively targeting Amanai-san for the bounty placed on her–

The girl's head snaps up the moment she catches the sound of a faint displacement in the air, and her paranoia proves to be her saving grace.

There's a man standing behind Kuroi-san. Dark-haired and flinty-eyed. Tall, scarred, and heavily-muscled. It's difficult to imagine a man of that size moving so silently, but it's the truth that none of them noticed this man coming up behind them. Not even the caterpillar-curse that Shiki is riding on, the one meant to protect her and Kuroi-san from any threats they couldn't handle.

"Kuroi-san, watch–"

Shiki's warning comes far, far too late. Before the first word has even left her mouth, the man has already struck like a viper; Kuroi-san immediately crumples to the ground, unconscious.

Shiki promptly throws herself backwards, tumbling off of Geto-san's screeching caterpillar-curse as she lashes out with a kick. More of a desperate attempt to keep the curse user away than an attack that has any hope of doing any damage, really. There's a sickening squelching sound and an inhuman, ear-piercing shriek when the man's foot ruthlessly stomps down on the caterpillar-curse. The cursed spirit's head is instantly crushed in a messy purple splatter.

That didn't bode well for her.

"The hell's a kid doing here?" the man raises an eyebrow, although it's clear he's not expecting any real answer. His movements don't slow in the least as he advances on Shiki –only to abruptly whirl back around when a wave of curses erupts from the caterpillar-curse's body. The failsafe that Geto-san had embedded within the curse. But even as the man's body is literally overwhelmed and completely subsumed by the onslaught of curses, there's a sudden chill that runs down the length of Shiki's spine.

She slips one of her new knives into her hands.

And not a moment too soon, as the man emerges from the attack entirely unscathed, if slightly bloodied. None of the blood is his. The mix of unusual colors staining his clothes is most definitely not the color of human blood.

Shiki barely manages to raise her knife in defense before the man shatters it with his bare fist. It takes a moment before Shiki even realizes what just occurred. Before she realizes that, even though she'd tried angling the blade so that it would cut him if he attacked her directly, the curse user had simply changed the angle of his punch so that it would connect against the flat of the blade instead at the last second, breaking it instead of being cut by it.

… She hadn't even seen him move, which meant that this curse user was even faster than Kiyohira-sensei. Far, far faster. Without a doubt, he was dangerous, far more so than the doll user –who'd at least intended to keep Shiki alive.

She silently slips out another knife from her sleeve. Recognizing that she is outmatched is one thing; going down without a fight is another.

"Oh, that's not how you use a knife," the man laughs at her, low and mocking, teeth bared into a sharp grin, "Little blessed child."

Shiki can see the man's lines. They're right there, scored across his body. Crimson-bright and sharp.

But being able to see the lines means nothing when her knives can't reach him, not when the next knife that Shiki slips into her hand is stolen from her fingers in a heartbeat. Not when the stolen blade twirls easily over his palm as it settles into a backhand grip in his hands and–

And then he sweeps out with his arm, slashing the knife across her eyes.

Shiki's reaction is entirely instinctive; flinching back, closing her eyes, ineffectively raising her arms because there's a blade coming at her face. But it's no use, she knows it's no use and it–

–it doesn't hurt.

… It doesn't hurt?

"Tch," the man clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Guess I should've expected something like this."

Heart thumping in her chest, Shiki forces herself to open her eyes again.

A swirl of lines, glittering before her eyes. It looks like there's something… is there something on top of her? Covering her, from the looks of it? Whatever it was, it had definitely saved her eyes from being blinded –and likely her life as well.

Shiki cautiously pulls back, glancing up to note that the curse user had actually retreated a short distance away. One hand is idly spinning the knife that he'd taken from her, while the other is closed over the back of an unconscious Kuroi-san. His gaze is focused on her –no, on something above her.

Shiki looks up, and her breath hitches in surprise.

Long dark hair, scarlet robes the color of fire. The strange figure hovering above her –one that most certainly hadn't been there a second ago– bends over to peer at Shiki in return, and the girl finally recognizes it for what it is: A cursed spirit. Four eyes blink down simultaneously at her all at once, but it's far from the most unnerving sight that Shiki has seen before, when it comes to curses.

Even Special Grade Curses.

Shiki recognizes this one from the scrolls, even. Tamamo-no-mae Incarnate.

"Oh," she breathes in sudden comprehension. So that's why her cousin and his friend had both seemed as unconcerned as they did about letting Shiki move separately from them with Kuroi-san.

It wasn't just the caterpillar-curse and the other assorted curses that they'd given her as a precaution in their absence. Geto-san had also left behind a Special Grade Curse to protect her.

Chapter Text

'Special Grade.'

In this world, there exist thousands of different curses, each bearing various forms and powers. But only fourteen are officially registered as Special Grade.

Tamamo-no-mae Incarnate is one of them –a Special Grade Cursed Spirit. The sort of curse that held the power to level cities, if left unfettered and unchecked.

… Depending on the perspective, technically this could qualify as Shiki's first time seeing a Special Grade Curse. Because Sukuna's finger had been more of a cursed object than a cursed spirit, strictly speaking, and heavily sealed besides. Tamamo-no-mae? Was anything but.

Above her, the humanoid cursed spirit slowly descends until they're right next to Shiki, floating only mere inches off of the ground. The curse does not speak, but a low, protective growl rumbles deep in their throat. All four eyes focus unerringly on the curse user who'd nearly carved out Shiki's eyes.

If Geto-san hadn't left Tamamo-no-mae with her, Shiki would've been eviscerated.

"A Special Grade Curse for babysitting a little kid? Overdoing it a bit, don't you think?" the man drawls idly across from them, wholly unconcerned.

His careless tone is enough to raise the hairs on the back of Shiki's neck. If the man could still remain so calm and unflappable in face of a Special Grade curse, then he was definitely far, far too strong for Shiki to handle on her own.

As if that hadn't been patently obvious already.

… Was he a curse user after the thirty million bounty on Amanai? It was the most reasonable explanation for any curse user's presence at this school, but going by his actions… it didn't make any sense. If his goal was Amanai, then why go after Shiki and Kuroi?

Or… was he after Shiki for her eyes, instead of gunning after Amanai? It would neatly explain why he hadn't asked any questions regarding Amanai-san's whereabouts. And Kuroi-san was just unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Please release Kuroi-san," Shiki requests, even though she knows it's useless.

The man seems almost amused. "Nah, I don't think I will."

He flips the stolen knife in his hand like it's a toy, fingers curling over the hilt–

–and then disappears entirely.

Tamamo-no-mae reacts before Shiki has even fully realized what's happening. The cursed spirit's arms immediately sweep out in a kaleidoscope of dizzying colors, a vivid whirlwind. There's suddenly a shimmering glow in the air, accompanied by a sharp burst of light. Shiki is forced to scrunch her eyes shut against the blinding gleam, and going by the irritated grunt she hears, the curse user probably isn't much better off.

But–

"Light shows and parlor tricks. Is that all a Special Grade's got?" the man growls.

Then he does –something. Shiki doesn't know; all she registers is a dark blur of movement, and Tamamo-no-mae moving in tandem to match it. Wickedly sharp claws elongate from the cursed spirit's hand with a vaguely fox-like howl, and it's–

It's insane, is what it is. The curse user is holding off attacks from a Special Grade Cursed Spirit with nothing but a pilfered knife–!

Tamamo-no-mae rears back. Cursed energy radiates in waves from its body, and clawed hands extend outwards in front of its chest, glowing brightly. It points towards where the curse user is landing in a crouch, and a deafening explosion detonates right at the base of the man's feet.

"Tch, count yourself lucky that I'm on a time crunch here."

Clouds of dust are thrown into the air by the explosive attack, obscuring anything and everything in sight –to human eyes, at least. Shiki coughs as she squints through the smoke.

… Nothing's there.

He's… gone?

The little girl blinks rapidly several times in quick succession, disbelievingly. But the truth is there to be seen: There's no trace of anyone standing in front of her anymore as the dust slowly clears. Her mouth drops slightly open in surprise, and Shiki is left feeling rather poleaxed by it all.

… That man seemed to be evenly matched with Tamamo-no-mae with nothing more than a knife! And he just… left? Why would a curse user of that caliber just give up like that? It didn't make any sense.

Not that Shiki was complaining about suddenly not having to fight for her life anymore, but it was… confusing. Confusing, and more than a little suspicious why the curse user would suddenly just up and leave in the middle of a fight. A fight that he certainly hadn't seemed to be losing in, either.

'Time crunch.' Right, towards the end, he'd mentioned a… time limit?

Time limit. A time limit? Why would a curse user have a time limit? Something to do with their cursed technique, perhaps…? No, that didn't feel quite right. Surely there was something she was overlooking, something that she was missing–

"Shiki!"

The little girl startles.

"Sa–" Lanky arms reach down and wrap around her, hauling her effortlessly into the air and against the fabric of a familiar dark uniform. "–toru-niichan?"

"We sensed the disturbance in cursed energy." Blue eyes peer down at her discerningly as her cousin visibly goes through the motions of checking her over. The playful pinch on the cheek once he's satisfied and deems her to be perfectly fine is pushing it a bit, though. "Tamamo came out to play? What happened here?"

"There was a curse user," Shiki explains, vaguely miffed as she rubs her face and does her best not to pout, though she isn't entirely successful. "A strong one. He attacked us and Kuroi-san was –Kuroi-san!"

The little girl jolts, then whirls around as best as she is able to whilst being held by her cousin like this. She can't believe she'd forgotten about Kuroi-san–

–who is nowhere to be seen.

"Yeah, speaking of which, where did Kuroi go?" Amanai-san cranes her neck, looking around puzzledly. "You guys were together the entire time, right? Or… was Kuroi hurt?"

"Kuroi-san was knocked unconscious, earlier. He… he must've taken Kuroi-san with him." Realization finally dawns upon her. Oh. So… perhaps it hadn't been about Shiki's eyes, after all. Given the way he'd aimed for her eyes, she'd thought that… well, clearly it doesn't matter anymore at this point.

Looking back on everything, the man had actually gone after Kuroi-san first when he'd ambushed them. And although he'd attacked Shiki immediately after, it had probably been more of Shiki being unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, rather than Kuroi-san. His mention of being on a time limit earlier… he'd most likely sensed Satoru-niichan and Geto-san's imminent return, then, and beat a hasty retreat.

She says as much to them, and Geto-san makes a thoughtful, considering sound.

"That would make sense," he agrees. The tall young man forms a seal with one hand and makes a sharp gesture to the side; beside Shiki, Tamamo-no-mae's form instantly dissolves in a shower of light.

"But it's strange," Satoru-oniichan comments with a slight frown. "I'm not seeing anyone else, there aren't any cursed energy residuals aside from Tamamo…"

"Maybe they have a cursed technique that specializes in hiding?" Geto-san suggests, shrugging. "At any rate… they shouldn't have gotten too far with Kuroi-san just yet. We can split up to cover more ground. Satoru, let's–"

A sharp digital chime suddenly blares into the air. All heads swivel towards Amanai-san, who fumbles with her ringing phone.

"Oh! It's just a message from Kuroi," the girl smiles in relief. "She must be fine, then, if she's texting–"

Amanai-san chokes off into silence and pales, staring down at her phone.

Kuroi-san had sent her a photo.

To be accurate: Someone had used Kuroi-san's phone to send Amanai-san a photo –a photo of Kuroi-san tied up and unconscious in what looked to be the backseat of a car.

Satoru-niichan clicks his tongue. "They certainly move fast now, don't they?"

"Not exactly the time for this, Satoru."

"Ehh… if they're already in a car, they could be anywhere by this point," her cousin frowns. "They'll probably be demanding that we trade Amanai for Kuroi since they have her hostage. Or if we don't kill Amanai, then they'll go ahead and kill Kuroi. Something like that."

"Most likely," Geto-san hums in agreement. "For now… let's take Amanai back to Jujutsu High, first. If Shoko's back by this point, maybe we can get her to act as a body double or something when we confront the kidnappers, and then we can–"

"Hold on just a minute!" the dark-haired girl cuts in. "I… I'm coming along with you! I can't just leave Kuroi to you guys like this."

Her gaze is fierce, determined. Amanai's bold insistence on staying here rather than retreating to the safety of the jujutsu school is… not the most optimal decision to make, bluntly speaking. Even though she was the Star Plasma Vessel, Amanai was not a sorcerer herself, and did not possess any cursed technique. Which was why Satoru-niichan and Geto-san had been called in to act as her bodyguards in the first place, when it became known that she was being targeted.

Satoru-oniichan gives the girl a look. "Do you even realize the situation you're in right now? This isn't something to be taking things so cavalierly–"

"Even if you guys rescue Kuroi, what if she isn't back before the merger?" Amanai-san bursts out almost pleadingly, hands curling into fists at her sides. Then, in a broken whisper, "… I still haven't even said goodbye to her yet."

Unshed tears glisten in the older girl's eyes. Just as Kuroi-san cares for Amanai-san, so does Amanai-san care for Kuroi-san in return. Rationally, Amanai-san tagging along in the rescue effort would end up being nothing but additional trouble. But the heart is rarely rational, in matters like these.

"… We should be getting a call from the kidnappers soon," Satoru-oniichan finally says, after a slight pause. "So, we can figure things out from there afterwards. But if it turns out that bringing you along decreases Kuroi's chances of survival, then we'll definitely be leaving you behind where it's safe while Suguru and I retrieve her. Got it?"

The little girl cocks her head, mildly surprised as she looks towards her cousin. He really changed his mind on this? … Because of Amanai-san's wishes?

"That's fine with me," the girl in question responds, eyes shining brightly with some emotion that Shiki is unable to put a name to.

"We'll have to be careful about it, though," Geto-san points out with a slight frown. "If they have someone who's capable of holding off Tamamo… we're likely dealing with a skilled group here. It would still be for the best to be careful."

"It'll be fine between the two of us, Suguru," Satoru-oniichan's voice is utterly confident. "I bet the most we'll have to worry about is Amanai here getting cold feet and wanting to back out halfway. Amanai, you sure you don't want to wait things out in Jujutsu High?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

"There we have it, then. If you get scared and start crying, don't say I didn't warn you."

.

.

As it turns out, despite her fragile schoolgirl appearance, Amanai-san is made of much sterner stuff than the average schoolgirl. Which isn't entirely surprising, Shiki supposes. Amanai-san is the Star Plasma Vessel, after all, and that has got to count for something, right? Despite not being a sorcerer, she's sure that the older girl has had her fair share of trials and difficulties.

Kuroi-san had mentioned Amanai-san losing her parents in an accident at a young age earlier too, hadn't she? … That makes two of them, then.

The rescue operation to save Kuroi-san goes smoothly in the end, despite Shiki's concerns. So smoothly that it was almost suspicious –but then again, looking at it logically, there really weren't very many organizations in this world capable of opposing two Special Grades in the first place, so maybe Shiki is just overthinking it. But this entire time, the curse user who'd fought Tamamo hadn't made a reappearance at all, not even when Satoru-oniichan and Geto-san stormed the warehouse that Kuroi-san was being held in together, and it's enough to make Shiki wonder.

That curse user had been the one to kidnap Kuroi-san in the first place, hadn't he? If he went to the trouble of taking Kuroi-san hostage, then presumably his target was Amanai-san, for the thirty million bounty. Someone with that sort of skill… would he really give up on his goal so easily?

Shiki may have only encountered this curse user exactly once, but she's fairly certain that the answer would be something along the lines of, 'Not likely.'

But neither Satoru-oniichan nor Geto-san seem to be too concerned about it… or maybe that's just a front that they're putting up in front of her because they don't want Shiki to worry. Or Amanai-san and Kuroi-san, for that matter. Which is somewhat understandable, because if you're protecting someone, you probably don't want them to be scared and anxious, do you?

It's the only reasonable explanation that Shiki can come up with for the five of them currently standing on the sandy shores of a beach in Okinawa, instead of immediately returning to the jujutsu school in Tokyo.

It's a sunny day out today, clear and bright. A beautiful summer day, where the sun shines warmly upon her face and the breeze is cool against her skin.

While Shiki had been confined to the Gojo estate all this time, it wasn't as if she'd been restricted to staying indoors. The sunlight in the well-kept gardens had been warm, too, but in this moment… the sudden thought strikes her that there's something markedly different about being outside in the gardens and standing here on the beach, looking out at the overlapping waves.

Shiki is barefoot. The grains of white-gold sand are coarse beneath her feet, between her toes, and warm. Every step she takes leaves a childish footprint behind, messy and misshapen.

The little girl tentatively bounces a little bit on the balls of her feet, marveling at the strange, foreign feeling of standing on a shifting surface that's so unsteady.

"Do you think training on top of sand would help to improve footwork?" she turns to ask Geto-san beside her.

The older boy sighs, long and weary. Being a bodyguard must be really stressful. "… I think you should be trying to enjoy yourself, like Amanai and Satoru are doing."

At this, the two of them simultaneously look out to where Amanai-san and Satoru-oniichan are further down the shoreline together. Her cousin seems to be chasing the girl with a… a… some sort of slimy, slug-like creature in his hands?

"Pass," Shiki says dubiously, while Geto-san slaps a hand to his face.

"Really, Satoru?" The words are as fond as they are resigned, and Shiki thinks she finally sees it. Why Satoru-oniichan leaves his back to Geto-san without reserve, why they are together the strongest. It's not just about the power, the Special Grade ranking. More than that, it's also…

"Satoru-oniichan trusts you," Shiki realizes. Truly realizes, in this moment. "You really are good friends, aren't you?"

The older boy glances down at her, clearly a little caught off-guard by the sudden non-sequitur. "I… I guess we are, huh?"

Shiki nods, "Friends are important."

… Not that she really has any friends, not anymore. Nowadays, Shiki's days are filled to the brim with lessons and training, and it's rare that she has any sort of free time to herself. Free time that's not actually just 'free time to continue your studies.'

Yes, she's met some of the other children her age living in the Gojo estate. But with Shiki's cursed technique being what it is, and her recently-gained control somewhat tenuous… it's not forbidden for Shiki to play games with other children, not officially, although it's certainly discouraged with a firm but gentle hand.

The thing is, Shiki understands it. All it would take is a single slip-up in a friendly game of tag or something, and… the disastrous consequences are not something Shiki would ever be able to take back, ever. This is something she'd always known in a nebulous, abstract manner, long before the incident yesterday that had culminated in Shiki slicing a curse user into six different pieces.

… Someday in the future, maybe. Maybe once Shiki has better control over her cursed technique, once she is able to meet others who see her not as a sorcerer with cursed eyes, but as Shiki… someday, maybe.

There's a look in Geto-san's eyes that seems vaguely sympathetic towards her, as if he can guess the line of her thoughts. Shiki smiles simply up at him; it's not his fault that she has these eyes, and it's not his fault that the Gojo Clan is more interested in having Shiki develop her technique before developing any interpersonal relationships.

She already has Ken-jichan, and Satoru-niichan. It would be greedy to ask for more.

Speaking of, "When will Kento-ojichan be here?"

She remembers that Satoru-niichan and Geto-san had talked about calling in reinforcements prior to coming to Okinawa, and they'd mentioned Nanami. Nanami-kun. Ken-jichan!

"Nanami and Haibara should already be in the airport by now," Geto-san tells her. "They'll be guarding the airport to make sure it's secure, and prevent any curse users from disrupting the flights to stop us from making it back to Tokyo in time for the merger."

… Kento-ojichan wouldn't be coming down to the beach, then. It's hard to say if Shiki feels disappointed or relieved upon learning this.

"And on the topic of the airport… it's actually about time for us to leave, too." The teenager cups his hand slightly around his mouth, "Satoru, Amanai! Let's get going!"

"Oh, is it time already?" Satoru-oniichan straightens, loose jacket sliding down carelessly from a bare shoulder.

"Aww…" Amanai-san pouts.

It's a slight motion, but Shiki catches the way her cousin pauses. Notices the quick glance towards Amanai-san from beneath his sunglasses, and then turns back to his friend.

"… Actually, Suguru. How about we leave tomorrow morning instead?"

It's hard to say who's more surprised by Satoru-oniichan in this moment, Geto-san or Shiki. The little girl casts a faintly bewildered look up towards the older boy who returns it with one of his own, and then he's heading off with her cousin to the side, the two holding a rapid discussion in their own hushed conversation.

… Satoru-oniichan is not nice. This, Shiki knows. But not being nice doesn't mean being entirely devoid of sympathy, either –this, Shiki also knows as well. Sympathy and curiosity are the main reasons why Satoru-oniichan ever even stopped to look at Shiki in the first place, after all. Sympathy for Shiki's situation, so very reminiscent of his own childhood. Curiosity for her cursed eyes, a distorted reflection of his own Six Eyes.

"–so I'll be fine, Suguru. I mean, you're here too, aren't you?" Satoru-oniichan smiles, a dazzling expression, then looks towards Shiki. "Hey, what are you doing all the way up there? You're at the beach! Why aren't you enjoying yourself in the water with us?"

Apparently they've concluded their brief conversation, then. The little girl cautiously picks her way over, doing her best to avoid the sharp pebbles and shells embedded in the sand.

"Kuroi-san says that wet sand is hard to wash out."

"Well, that's just Kuroi's opinion," Satoru-oniichan sniffs. Then, once Shiki is in close enough proximity, instantly reaches over and ruffles her hair. Shiki bats at his hands ineffectually; now there's sand everywhere. "Or are you telling me that you don't like the beach, hmm? What kid doesn't like going to the beach?!"

The little girl makes a face, "I don't know, it's the first time I've been to a beach."

Her cousin blinks, "… Huh. Really, it's your first time?"

"Mhm." The Gojo Clan did not exactly have a propensity for taking Shiki out on recreational trips. As for the one trip that she had actually gone out on –the less said about her disastrous visit to the Kamo Clan, the better. And even long before the incident that had upended her life and resulted in her subsequently being taken in by the Gojo Clan afterwards… the Nanami family hadn't exactly gone on very many family trips together. At least, not that Shiki recalls.

Satoru-oniichan hums, a soft sound of understanding. It's only Shiki's growing familiarity with her cousin that allows her to catch on that there's something amiss, but she's still a beat too late in reacting. Between one moment and the next, the little girl is suddenly picked up and swung over him so that she's riding his shoulders, and Shiki flails a bit as she attempts to find her balance. Satoru-oniichan laughs as Shiki's hands end up tangled in his hair, striding back towards Amanai-san.

Star-shaped sunglasses dangle off from her face, sunlight falling into her eyes. There's good-natured laughter ringing in her ears, punctured by a startled squeak that emanates from her own throat. Amanai-san splashes more water towards Satoru-oniichan, and Shiki tastes saltwater on her tongue.

… This is surely a moment that she'll remember forever. Shiki quietly tucks away this precious moment filled with beachside sunlight and ringing laughter into a careful corner of her heart.

The day passes quickly. Far, far too quickly. Shiki wanders around the streets wearing oversized sunglasses and an atrocious flower-printed shirt that's ugly enough to make Kiyohira-sensei cry. She feels light, almost light enough to fly. It's something undeniably freeing, something she's never felt –never thought that she would be capable of feeling, not with the Gojo Clan.

She doesn't want to go back.

But that's… selfish of her, isn't it?

Shiki is well aware of the presence of cursed spirits in this world now, the misfortunes and deaths that they bring. It's a sorcerer's duty and responsibility to kill curses in order to remove their malignant influence, and Shiki's cursed technique –her cursed eyes– means that she has potential, more so than most. She knows this, has heard it said by the elders of the clan over and over again.

Shiki may not have chosen to become a sorcerer of her own volition, but there's no other path for her. And if she is truly able to live up to their expectations and become a powerful sorcerer one day… how many lives might she be able to save? How many would die if Shiki chose to run?

And, Kento-ojichan is a sorcerer, too. Even though there might not be much that Shiki can do for her beloved uncle at the moment, even despite her uncertainties… it would be a cold day in hell before Shiki left Ken-jichan to fight on his own. If Shiki turned away from the path of a sorcerer, that's exactly what she would be doing.

She wonders if these confusing feelings are anything similar to what Amanai-san might feel towards being the Star Plasma Vessel. If Amanai-san runs, if Tengen-sama destabilizes and the barriers fall… what that mean for jujutsu society at large? How severe would the repercussions be?

"Hey there, heavy thoughts?"

Shiki turns, "Hello, Amanai-san."

"Just call me Riko-neechan!" the older girl laughs, flopping down next to Shiki on the bed.

Their motley group had just finished checking into two rooms side by side in one of the nearby hotels a short ways off from the beach, with the girls sharing one room and the boys in another. Shiki would've been perfectly fine staying in the same room as her cousin and his friend, but Amanai-san had protested it, and here they were.

"Ri-nee has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Riko-neechan," Shiki responds gamely. Amanai-san –Riko-neechan– grins.

"You're so cute! Totally unlike that brother of yours," the smile turns into a puffed-out pout. "Geez, how'd someone like him nab such a sweet little sister like you? Where's the fairness in that?"

Shiki rather severely doubts that Riko-neechan would be saying the same thing if she'd found her in the aftermath of a certain accident involving a doll curse user. "We're distant cousins."

"Ehh?! Really?" Riko-neechan blinks wide eyes at her, looking surprisingly startled. "But you guys look exactly alike, even down to the eyes! … Sort of."

"Not true. Satoru-niichan is the only one in the Gojo Clan with the Six Eyes," Shiki informs the other girl. She can't really say much about anything else. Shiki is aware that, appearance-wise, she resembles her cousin much more than she does Kento-ojichan. Or even her own parents, for that matter; genetics are truly a mystery.

White hair, pale skin. Cursed blue eyes.

… Well, maybe not so much the 'pale skin' anymore. After an entire day spent out and about in the sun, Shiki thinks that she might be picking up a bit of a tan instead.

"Right, right, Six Eyes and the Limitless cursed technique," Riko-neechan mutters, then looks towards Shiki curiously. "So what are yours called, then?"

"Eyes of Severance," Shiki responds. She's actually not entirely sure if this is the name that has been settled on as the official designation, but it's certainly the one that she hears bandied about most frequently by the elders. "My technique is named Fragility."

"… Y'know, for a moment I thought you were going to respond with something like, 'Seven Eyes,'" the older girl comments, which startles an involuntary laugh from Shiki. "Hey, don't laugh! I'm not a sorcerer, how am I supposed to know?"

"Sorry," the little girl hides a small smile behind her hand. Which fools absolutely no one, least of all Riko-neechan who sticks her tongue out at her. From the other side of the room, Kuroi-san is hiding her own smile behind a half-raised hand.

Soon enough, the lights are turned off, and the only light remaining within the room is that of the pale moonlight spilling beneath the window curtains. Shiki lies awake on her side of the bed, listening to the sound of cicadas chirping late into the nighttime dark.

"… Riko-neechan?"

There's a rustling of cloth to her left. Coarse cotton, rather than the fine layers that Shiki has grown used to, but somehow she finds that she doesn't miss the finery of the Gojo estate in the least.

"What is it?" Riko-neechan murmurs softly. Despite the long hours of the day, the other girl doesn't sound particularly sleepy.

Shiki can't really say the same –even now, her eyelids are drooping ever so slightly– but there's something she wants to ask, before she inevitably falls asleep.

"Why are you going along with the merger?"

A slight pause. Then, a soft, helpless chuckle. "I'm the Star Plasma Vessel, aren't I? This… is what I have to do."

Shiki understands that, but, "It's unfair."

And that's the truth of things. It's unfair, unfair. Riko-neechan didn't deserve to be sacrificed in a so-called 'merger' when she still had her whole life ahead of her to live. But unfortunately, the world around them rarely cared for such things as fairness, and the very thought makes something tighten uncomfortably in Shiki's throat.

"Don't be like that," Riko-neechan says. A slim arm reaches out behind her, tentatively wrapping around the younger girl and pulling her back against a warm body in a warmer hug. Shiki allows the movement without any resistance. "I won't really be dead, y'know? I'll still live on through Tengen-sama."

"But you won't be you anymore," Shiki responds. Somehow, inexplicably, she knows this to be the truth with absolute certainty, down to her bones. "You won't be alive, not really. Just part of Tengen-sama. Your voice when you scream silently into the void will go unheard and overlooked."

"I know," the older girl responds quietly. "I know. But it's… it's not that simple. Ever since I was born, I've been told that I'm special and different. The Star Plasma Vessel, right? So I avoided dangerous things and stayed alive, all this time…"

The arm around her midsection tightens.

"My parents died in a car crash when I was really young. I don't even remember it, so I'm not upset about it or anything," Riko-neechan continues into the silence of the night. "I'm not sad or lonely. So that's why… it should be fine, when I'm gone. With the merger… I won't be sad or lonely. I'll just be part of Tengen-sama."

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?" Shiki asks pointedly. The only response she receives is a shaky laugh, a shuddering breath.

… Words are not Shiki's strong suit, and she highly doubts that they will ever be. But here and now, something within her compels her to respond to Riko-oneechan all the same.

"We're similar," Shiki confides to the older girl, pretending not to notice the slight tremble in the arm holding her. "My parents died a little over a year ago in an accident. I died with them, back then. Except… I woke up again, and they didn't. So now I have these eyes to show for it."

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?" the little girl asks curiously. "The accident had nothing to do with you, the building was old and it collapsed on its own."

"I'm sorry that you had to experience something like that," Riko-neechan clarifies, and okay, that makes a little more sense.

"It's alright," Shiki says. Lies. It's not alright that Shiki is alive and her parents aren't –but that's not something that she's about to get into at the moment. "I'm not sad or lonely. And even though things are different, I have Ken-jichan. Satoru-niichan, too. I think maybe Geto-san would also be sad, if I die."

… Where is she going with this, again?

"I'm not alone," Shiki finally concludes, slow and thoughtful. "I have people who care about me, and those who I care for. And so do you, Riko-neechan."

"I…"

"At the very least," she continues, "You have Kuroi-san, don't you?"

Riko-neechan's voice hitches sharply behind her. And from the other side, Kuroi-san sniffles a bit as well, as the woman finally gives up her pretense of sleep during this ongoing dialogue.

Shiki ends up dozing off somewhere in the middle of the new conversation that picks up between Riko-neechan and Kuroi-san. The bed is warm, she knows that she's safe, and she's already said what she wanted to say. Whether or not Riko-neechan will proceed with the merger is her own choice, but… is it bad that Shiki secretly hopes otherwise? Despite what this might mean for the upcoming merger, for the barriers and for jujutsu society at large?

I want to see Ken-jichan, is her last errant, coherent thought before she finally nods off for good.

And sleeps.

.

.

The first thing that Shiki does when she sees Kento-ojichan bright and early the next morning in the airport is run up to him for a hug. She's missed Kento-ojichan, it's been forever since he last visited her in the Gojo clan compound! Likely the doings of some of the stricter elders, no doubt.

"Shiki!" Kento-ojichan briefly fumbles with something he's carrying, but manages to catch it in time. He leans down, hoisting Shiki up in one arm to settle her at his hip with a slight grunt of effort. "You've grown a lot taller."

"Ken-jichan," Shiki mumbles into the side of his collar, face buried into the dark fabric of his school uniform as her eyes start watering without warning. Why are her eyes watering? She shouldn't be so prone to crying! "I-I've missed you."

His expression softens, "I've missed you, too."

"Hey, what about me?"

"Oh my god, learn to read the mood, Satoru," Geto-san groans. Then, "Thank you for your hard work, Nanami-kun, Haibara-kun."

"Of course! You can count on us!" the other boy standing beside Kento-ojichan cheers. Haibara-san, Shiki firmly reminds herself. Haibara-san, Kento-ojichan's classmate and friend. Like Geto-san and Satoru-oniichan.

Kento-ojichan sighs, "… So long as you don't make a habit of suddenly extending a mission by an entire day, I have no complaints. Amanai-san, Kuroi-san, it's nice to meet you both. It must've been difficult, the past few days."

"Wait, what are you implying–"

"It's nice to meet you, too!" Riko-neechan grins brightly, cutting Satoru-oniichan off without a single moment of hesitation. "You're Shiki-chan's uncle, right?"

"Yes." The two exchange slight bows in greeting. "And on the matter of Shiki… Gojo-san. Why is Shiki here on your mission with you."

The words themselves are a question, but come out as something more of an accusation instead.

Satoru-oniichan laughs, bright and loud. "Ahaha, look at the time, we're about to be late for our flight!"

"Gojo, you can't just–"

Shiki is promptly plucked from her uncle's arms and resettled in her cousin's steady grip. Satoru-oniichan flashes Kento-ojichan another smile. "I'll explain once we're back at the school, okay?"

"… It better be a good explanation," Kento-ojichan eventually relents. The mission to protect the Star Plasma Vessel is an important one, after all, and sorcerers are trained to prioritize mission objectives.

"Of course, of course," Satoru-oniichan readjusts his hold on Shiki, who weathers her cousin's manhandling of her person rather gracefully, in her own opinion. "Alright, it's time to say goodbye now, before we're really late, and wouldn't that be fun."

"Yaga-sensei might actually have an aneurysm for real this time," Geto-san comments with a slight measure of amusement, before shaking his head.

Shiki stares at Kento-ojichan. There's so much she wants to tell him, but at the same time, it also feels like there's absolutely nothing she has to say to him. I killed someone. I broke my promise. I love you. Will you hate me? Please don't hate me.

"See you later, Kento-ojichan," is all she finally says, in the end.

He smiles. "Yes, I suppose I'll be seeing you later, once this is over. Stay safe, alright?"

"You too, Kento-ojichan."

The journey back to Tokyo feels like it's a lot shorter than the journey from Tokyo to Okinawa. Probably because Shiki fell asleep on the two-hour flight, and only woke up again once they were well inside the jujutsu school, ensconced deep within the mountains.

To be fair, it's been a long few days for her. Shiki wakes up still feeling a little tired, but… it's a good sort of tired, she thinks.

"Finally awake, little sleepyhead?"

The little girl rubs her eyes and yawns. "Good… afternoon, Satoru-oniichan?"

"Ha! 'Good afternoon' is right," her cousin grins.

"It's about 3pm," Geto-san supplies. She's been asleep for quite some time, then. "It's been about four hours since Amanai's bounty was lifted. We're inside Jujutsu High's barriers now, so we can finally take it easy for a bit."

Shiki takes a moment to study the two of them. Outwardly, the two of them seem to be perfectly fine. Geto-san looks to be calm and assured, while Satoru-oniichan only appears a bit bored. But there are also signs that they're not fine; there are slight bags beneath Geto-san's eyes, and Shiki would have to be blind to miss the similar signs of budding exhaustion in her cousin.

While she and Riko-neechan had enjoyed a carefree outing in Okinawa, Satoru-oniichan and Geto-san had both been on guard the entire time. There had also been several instances where either one of them would disappear for a short period of time, then waltz back as if there was nothing wrong –and there wasn't. Because they'd already dealt with the problem, discreetly and out of sight so as to not cause any worries.

"Thank you for the hard work," Shiki says, parroting Geto-san's words to Kento-ojichan and Haibara-san in the airport back to them. Geto-san cracks a smile, and Satoru-oniichan snorts a little bit.

"Nice to know we're appreciated," Satoru-oniichan shakes his head, then sighs obnoxiously as he finally deactivates his cursed technique. Shiki can feel it, the way the invisible film between her and her cousin disappears entirely, and she's fully settled into his arms. "Alright, no more! No more babysitting, I'm done with this mission–"

He pauses. Cuts off right in the middle of his words, and it's a little strange, because there was no interruption.

Shiki blinks.

It hurts.

… It really, really hurts. Somewhere inside her chest, it really hurts. But it's so entirely unexpected that it takes her a moment to even register the pain. Shiki is good at ignoring pain, though, so she blithely pushes past it, even though it burns, because it doesn't make any sense. She's with Satoru-oniichan right now, so why–?

The little girl opens her eyes. She doesn't know when she'd closed them.

Shiki opens her eyes, past the pain, and looks. Red lines unfurl instantly, scarlet lines slashed mercilessly upon the world, and the little girl finds herself looking into an all-too familiar face over the back of her cousin's shoulder.

Dark hair, dark eyes, a sardonic smile.

… It's him. It's the curse user, the one who'd kidnapped Kuroi-san. The one who'd been suspiciously and conspicuously missing when they'd gone to rescue her–!

He's holding a sword in his hands. His sword is deeply embedded in Satoru-oniichan's back. He's stabbing Satoru-oniichan.

He's also stabbing Shiki, too. His hands are clenched over the hilt of a single thin blade, running the both of them through.

So that's why it hurts.

Shiki doesn't even register her own movement. She only stares, blank and unblinking, and watches detachedly as her own hand slashes out with a knife, directly towards the man's lines. The dismissive look on his face doesn't even twitch until the last moment right before her knife is about to bite into his skin, and the placid expression on his face suddenly distorts, changes–

–and he's gone.

A soft gasp escapes Shiki's mouth as he vanishes. Her chest burns. Shiki coughs, wet and choking. Slowly, she reaches up with a trembling hand to touch her lips.

Her fingertips come away stained with blood.

"Shiki!"

"Sa… nii…" Words are difficult. Like running through sand, something she now knows personally to be difficult. Her cousin stares at her with wide eyes, and distantly Shiki wonders what it is that he sees with his Six Eyes right now. Probably nothing good, she's guessing.

So she smiles instead, but maybe that wasn't a very smart decision, either, because there's blood on her lips and she tastes blood inside her mouth.

It's not on purpose, but she loses track of time. She can feel herself drifting in and out, can catch bits and pieces of the agitated shouts around her.

–she's not responding–

–need Shoko–

–the hell are you?! I'll kill–

Shiki idly wonders if she's dying. All signs currently point to yes, she thinks, and in some ways, it's actually a relief. It might've been delayed, but Shiki knows that she'd died a year ago –or at least, lingered a little too long on that strange precipice between life and death, and that's not right.

Life is life and death is death. Shiki isn't–

I'm not alone. I have people who care about me, and those who I care for.

–a hypocrite.

…

Live, Shiki.

Promise me you'll live.

I love you.

Entirely powered by some unnamed instinct, following the echoes of the not-so-distant memory that she recalls accompanying the throes of her first death, Shiki flares her cursed energy. Cold and sharp, and as bright as the distant stars.

… But it still hurts.

Everything still hurts, so, so… very… much…

Gradually, the little girl's eyes drift shut despite the ongoing sounds of battle around her, and all she knows is darkness.

Chapter Text

It's cold.

Awareness comes slowly, and painfully. Yet it's not the dull, throbbing pain in her midsection that catches Shiki's attention when she finally wakes. Rather, it's the jarring sensation of something distinctly cold beneath her skin instead, an unnatural chill that sinks deep and lingers in her bones.

Cold.

The little girl opens her eyes.

For a long moment, her surroundings are nothing more than a vague blur. Shiki blinks a few times, and eventually her vision swims back into focus. It's…

… She doesn't really know what she'd been expecting. But somehow, she finds that she's not entirely surprised to be met with the all-too familiar sight of a sterile, gray ceiling.

"You're finally awake."

The little girl turns her head from where she's resting on the hospital bed, registering a shock of snow-white hair. "… Sa–"

She breaks off halfway with a slight cough, one hand automatically reaching up towards her throat in vague surprise. It's startling, how strangely sandpaper-dry her throat feels. Satoru-oniichan shifts forward from where he's leaning against the open window, and moves to hand her a glass of water from the table by her bedside.

"Take it easy, you've had it rough," he picks it up and hands it over to her. "How are you feeling?"

"…" Like I got stabbed is her knee-jerk response, but she manages to bite down on those words at the last moment. It… probably wouldn't be the best reply. Shiki sips quietly at her cup, trying to come up with a better answer–

–wait.

The little girl promptly chokes on her water as everything suddenly comes flooding back to her.

Pain, blood, the flash of a blade–

"Whoa, slow down there, no one's fighting you for a drink–"

"You were hurt," she blurts out, overwhelmed with what she remembers. "That curse user, he… he stabbed you!"

Us, really, but that's not the important part here–

Shiki looks up towards her cousin in concern, ignoring the water spilled over her bedsheets. "Are you alright? How…?"

Satoru-oniichan smiles placatingly. "Aww, is my adorable little cousin worried? There's no need to fret, though –see, I'm perfectly fine. It wasn't that particular hit that I had to worry about, anyways…"

The little girl tilts her head in confusion as the older boy's voice trails off.

"… But don't worry about it," Satoru-oniichan finally says, leaning over to pat her on the head, ruffling her hair affectionately. "You should be a little more concerned for yourself, really."

Concerned for herself? But he was the one who'd been stabbed, right in front of her eyes–

–and Shiki had been stabbed at the time, too. She'd… somehow completely forgotten about that, for a moment.

Ignoring the distinct discomfort in her midsection, the little girl eyes her cousin skeptically. No matter his claims of being perfectly alright, he'd been run through with a blade. Certainly, from his slouched posture and the way he was standing it didn't seem like he was injured, but…

But Shiki can't help but recall the past few days in Okinawa, when Satoru-oniichan had only smiled breezily the entire time, no matter the sleepless nights and countless curse users that came their way.

Shiki knows that Satoru-oniichan is strong. Strong, indomitable, invincible –all the way up until he isn't. The thought had never occurred to her before, but now that she considers it, truly thinks about it… it's unfair, putting that sort of burden on his shoulders in the first place. No one is ever truly invincible, so it's patently unfair to expect that of someone.

Even Gojo Satoru.

… What's truly important is growing strong enough to stand on your own two feet. Shiki doesn't –she just doesn't want to be a burden, but that's exactly what she was. Is.

If Satoru-oniichan and Geto-san hadn't been run ragged by the burden of protecting Shiki on top of Amanai-san –Riko-neechan– would they have been able to react to the curse user's ambush in time? If Satoru-oniichan hadn't been weighed down by Shiki in his arms, would he have been able to avoid the curse user's wicked blade at the last moment?

If, if, if.

If only…

Shiki's hands slowly curl into fists over the white bed sheets.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

Her cousin blinks. "What? No, none of this had anything to do with you. If anything, it should be me apologizing to you. I was the one who convinced Suguru that it would be better if we took you along with us on our mission."

Shiki shakes her head, "That's not–"

"Listen," the teenager says, "None of what happened on this mission was your fault. That responsibility falls on me and Suguru. I shouldn't have…"

Satoru-oniichan breaks off with an irritated sound, vaguely frustrated. Is he frustrated with himself over what happened? … Is he frustrated with Shiki?

I'm sorry. I'll do better next time.

Shiki loosely holds the empty cup in her hands, and quietly sets it onto the stand by her bedside in the ensuing silence.

"… How did the merger go?" she asks, for lack of anything better to say.

Her cousin shrugs, "There was no merger."

"No merger?" the little girl frowns. But wasn't the entire point of the mission to protect Amanai Riko the eventual merger with Tengen? In order to 'reset' Tengen's cursed technique of immortality so they could continue maintaining the jujutsu barriers, or something like that? "But Riko–"

"Amanai's dead." There's no particular inflection in his tone when he says those words, as easily as one might remark on the weather. Satoru-oniichan looks at her, perfectly unperturbed, and tells her in a mild voice, "Amanai died before the merger could happen. So, there was no merger."

"Oh," Shiki blinks slowly. "… Was it the curse user?"

"Yeah, so about that. Turns out he actually wasn't a curse user at all," her cousin responds. "Didn't have a single drop of cursed energy in him. That was Zenin Toji, the Sorcerer Killer."

Shiki's eyes widen at the revelation. No cursed energy? But the strength that man had possessed, those movements–!

It was hard to imagine someone could fight like that without using cursed energy at all.

"He killed Riko-neechan?" What kind of monster could get past two Special Grade sorcerers? Someone who wasn't even a sorcerer themselves, at that?

Although, his name… Zenin. That was… one of the other 'three great families,' wasn't it?

"He did," Satoru-oniichan shifts, leaning against the wall. "Killed Amanai, then made off with you. So I tracked him down and killed him."

The words are light, breezy.

Shiki nods, "Okay."

There's a part of Shiki's mind whispering that it's not a good thing to be so indifferent towards the prospect of killing. Towards death. She remembers Kento-ojichan telling her before that it's important, the ability to discern whether or not it's 'right' or 'wrong' to kill. But… what happens if she no longer recognizes the difference? … Had she ever truly known the difference in the first place?

The curse user is easier to rationalize. Well. The not-curse user, she supposes. Shiki can't say that she's particularly sad that Zenin Toji is dead, given how he'd almost killed her and actually did kill Amanai Riko, on top of hurting Satoru-oniichan. She thinks it's probably understandable that she finds herself entirely unsympathetic to the man's fate.

What's a little more concerning is that Shiki isn't particularly upset about Riko-neechan's death, either.

… She'd honestly liked the older girl. Amanai Riko was bright and outspoken, and in the short time they'd known each other it had felt like there was something Shiki could relate to in her, despite their differences. Shiki hadn't minded being led down the winding halls of the Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium by the excitable girl, admiring the myriad colorful species of fish with her. It was… nice.

But now she's dead, and Shiki discovers with mild consternation that she isn't sad about it, not really.

Why?

… Is it because she'd known from the very start that Amanai Riko was slated for death? Because of the merger? Or… is it because Shiki simply hadn't been that attached to the older girl in the first place? … Is there something wrong with Shiki, for not being upset over Riko-neechan's death?

There must be. Because it feels like she should be upset, but she isn't. And that's the cold, hard truth of it.

… Kento-ojichan had once told Shiki that she had a 'good heart.' She'd been happy to hear his confidence in her at the time, but now she thinks that he must be mistaken.

"'Okay?' That's all you have to say about this?" her cousin asks.

Shiki gives a noncommittal shrug. Satoru-oniichan laughs.

"I should've guessed this would be your reaction," he says, whatever that means. The little girl tilts her head in confusion, but the older boy does not elaborate on that comment. Instead, he smiles at her, equal parts fond and rueful.

"Rest up," Satoru-oniichan tells her, patting Shiki on the shoulder. "Once the doctors give you a clean bill of health, Kiyohira will be coming by to take you back to the estate. Given the scare this time… the clan might be a little overbearing for a bit, just so you know. But don't worry too much about it, your Toru-nii will make sure they don't overdo things!"

If it had been the Shiki before this entire debacle, before the complete whirlwind of these past few days –she would've just taken her cousin at his word. Satoru-oniichan is the strongest. With strength comes power, comes influence, and she'd trusted him to watch out for her. She still does, but…

But there's a nuance of added perspective to that previously unthinking sort of understanding now. Shiki reflects on the weariness she'd seen in Satoru-oniichan from running his cursed technique nonstop, and recalls the vague surprise she'd seen in his expression when the Sorcerer Killer had finally made his move at the very end.

The flash of a gleaming blade, followed by a wet splatter of blood.

So, Shiki doesn't just passively nod to her cousin, as she's grown so used to doing over the past few months. She'd been content accepting her cousin's protection, but she knows that there's only so much he can do. And that's alright. In the first place, it's unrealistic and wrong to rely on someone for everything. Even if it's someone who's willing to and wants to protect you –especially if it's someone like that.

Her visit to the Kamo Clan had impressed upon Shiki the importance of being able to protect oneself. This had been made ever more glaringly evident by her run-in with the curse user who'd used a doll technique. Her subsequent encounter with the Sorcerer Killer only confirmed it.

Shiki isn't strong enough to take care of herself, not yet. But she will be. And in the meantime, she'll do whatever she can towards reaching that goal, so that she might be able to help those around her, instead of causing them harm and bringing them down.

Small steps.

"It's fine," the little girl lifts her head and looks up at her cousin, directly meeting his eyes with a steady gaze. "Do what you need to, Toru-nii, and don't worry about what it might mean for me. I won't let the clan walk over me."

The young man pauses for a moment, a loose expression flitting across his face as if vaguely surprised.

And then he smiles.

.

.

It feels like it's been forever and a day since she'd last seen Kiyohira-sensei, for some reason. Logically, Shiki knows that isn't the case, because it's only been a few days–

"You were laid out in the hospital and unconscious for nearly three weeks," Kiyohira-sensei growls. For all the irritation in his words, the burly man's hands are surprisingly gentle as he deftly loosens the bandages wrapped around Shiki's ribcage. "We almost thought you were going to slip into a coma again."

Three weeks? Really?

The burly man clicks his tongue. "Satoru-sama didn't tell you?"

Shiki scrunches her face, "… I don't recall him mentioning it."

Kiyohira-sensei grumbles irritably, "Tch. If he hadn't spent as much time as he did just sitting in that room and waiting for you to wake up, I would've suspected that he didn't care at all."

The little girl gives the man a strange look for those words. "Of course Satoru-oniichan cares, Kiyohira-sensei."

Her teacher and caretaker is silent for a long moment.

"Listen," he finally says, "I know that Satoru-sama has been looking out for you ever since you were brought back to the clan, and he's probably one of the few people that you're close to."

That does not sound like a particularly promising start. Shiki bites down on the instinctive knee-jerk reaction to defend her cousin. She'll hear Kiyohira-sensei out, at the very least.

"As a sorcerer, Gojo Satoru is utterly brilliant. The clan could not ask for a more talented child to be blessed with both Limitless and the Six Eyes," the man admits bluntly. "Yet when it comes to his personality… It is not my place to speak ill of how Muneyoshi-sama raised his son. But he's… Satoru-sama isn't…"

Kiyohira-sensei scowls as he struggles with his words, lips curving into a steep frown.

"He has a skewed perspective," is what Kiyohira-sensei eventually settles on saying. "Even if it's not always obvious. Satoru-sama is the type of person who will smile and laugh and joke with you, while not meaning a single word of it. I highly doubt that he even sees people as people most of the time, gods."

The man raises a large hand to rub at his forehead as he heaves a heavy sigh, clearly unhappy.

"I respect him, for his strength. I obey him, for he is my clan's heir. But I do not think I could ever trust Satoru-sama, wholly and unreservedly," he tells her with an expression akin to a grimace. "I've seen the way the two of you interact. It's true that he watches out for you, and he really does seem to be fond of you, but how much of that is truly genuine? … I've literally watched that kid grow up, and I still couldn't tell you."

"What are you trying to say?" Shiki asks. "Are you saying that I should distance myself from Satoru-oniichan? Because you're wary of him?"

"When he finally masters Limitless and the Six Eyes, he'll be something akin to a god walking amongst mortals. Throughout the heavens and the earth, he alone is the honored one." Kiyohira-sensei shakes his head, "No, I'm not asking that you distance yourself from Satoru-sama. God knows that kid needs more healthy human interactions."

"Then, things should be fine as they currently are."

Kiyohira-sensei sighs again. "You're a smart kid, Shiki, which is why I'm telling you this: Be careful, when you're with him. Satoru-sama… is dangerous for more than just his blessings."

Shiki tilts her head. She doesn't really get it. Why is Kiyohira-sensei saying this? He's known that Shiki is close to Satoru-oniichan for ages –she thinks that would've been evident from the very start, considering how it was Satoru-oniichan's intervention early on in their training that led to Kiyohira-sensei's attitude thawing towards Shiki and all. But he's never tried to warn Shiki about Satoru-oniichan before, not like this.

So, why? What changed?

The only thing Shiki can think of is recent events, the failed mission to protect Amanai Riko. But Satoru-oniichan had done his best the entire time, protecting both his assigned charge and Shiki. Did the clan blame him for this failed mission? But the mission hadn't been so simple, surely there was more to take into account than just that–

It takes several pointed questions on her part before she is finally able to convince Kiyohira-sensei to divulge another piece of news, regarding what had occurred:

"Satoru-sama nearly killed civilians. Regular, non-sorcerer civilians," Kiyohira-sensei closes his eyes painedly. "There were hundreds of them in the room. If it wasn't for Geto arriving just in time, he might've gone and… gods, I don't even want to think about what may have very well ended up happening."

The man reaches up a large hand, tiredly rubbing at his face with a groan as he stumbles over his words. Shiki gets the general gist of it, though, realizes that Kiyohira-sensei is genuinely concerned for and wary of Satoru-oniichan for his mindset–

She just doesn't understand it.

… Well, no, maybe that's not quite the right way to be phrasing this.

Shiki understands that killing is considered a 'bad thing' in almost every respect aside from killing curses, for a sorcerer. Killing is wrong –except for when it isn't.

The little girl wonders where Kiyohira-sensei draws his line, in regards to killing. She wonders where she draws her own. For some reason, she's getting the distinct feeling that her line may be a lot closer to Satoru-oniichan's than Kiyohira-sensei's.

Kento-ojichan would probably be upset, she thinks, then carefully sets the thought aside.

Shiki blinks guileless eyes back up towards her teacher when the man squints down at her suspiciously for her prolonged silence, in wake of his words. Dark eyes narrow, then widen in horrified realization–

Truly, Kiyohira-sensei knows her well. The thought is as warm as it is terrifying.

"Fuck. What am I even saying? You… you're just like him, aren't you?" The man's uncharacteristically tremulous words are barely above a whisper.

"Not really," Shiki denies immediately. Then pauses, mulling over her response a little more, because he deserves an honest answer from her. "… At least, I don't think so?"

Kiyohira-sensei does not look convinced in the least. Fair enough. Shiki wouldn't be particularly convinced by her own response, either, if she were in his place. Especially since–

"I killed a curse user, that day when I left the compound," she says. "You know that, right?"

"… Yes. But that was self-defense, that's not–"

"It was, in a manner of speaking. But it was also a deliberate choice," Shiki corrects, though not unkindly. "Towards the end, I could've chosen to let her live. But I wanted to kill her. And so I did."

Shiki turns away slightly so she won't have to look at Kiyohira-sensei's eyes. His judgment only matters to her as much as she allows it to.

"My cursed technique makes it easy to kill, and I'm being trained on how to kill effectively," she lays out the facts simply. "It wasn't hard. And… in the future, I'm probably going to kill a lot. Curses and humans alike."

Shiki has never really thought about it like this before. But looking at things in perspective, she's absolutely certain that this is the future that awaits her on this path. Somehow, though, rather than terrifying her, this realization settles something inside her instead and steels her resolve.

"I think it was probably the same for Satoru-oniichan, too. Six Eyes and Limitless, right? But unlike me, he was born with this power, so he's been trained for this since birth." Shiki splays out her hands in a hapless gesture, what can you do? "Knowing from the very start that you're being honed as a blade, constantly aware that you're meant to kill… isn't it only normal, then, that it becomes part of your nature? Isn't it only to be expected?"

Or maybe it's always been part of your nature from the beginning. Who knows?

The little girl is wise enough not to voice the latter thought aloud.

She glances back towards her teacher-caretaker. Kiyohira-sensei is staring at her like he's seeing her for the first time.

The man's mouth opens and closes mutely, and his strained voice when he speaks again is distinctly hoarse, "Does the value of another person's life mean nothing to you?"

"'All life is precious,'" Shiki promptly recites, in exactly the same cadence that she remembers from her lessons.

"That's not what I asked," he says tersely.

The little girl blinks slowly, but does not respond. There's no good way to answer this –not when she herself isn't entirely sure of her own answer, either.

The obvious answer is 'no,' of course. All life is precious. Everyone's life means something, so it's a terrible thing to kill without meaning. No one wants to die a meaningless death. In fact, no one wants to die, period, under most circumstances.

But what does it mean for Shiki?

… Shiki wants to be 'good.' Unfortunately, it looks like being good is shaping up to be a lot more difficult for her than it is for Kento-ojichan. But how much of her struggle is because of her circumstances and her cursed technique? And how much of it is simply a problem with Shiki herself?

"Forget it," Kiyohira-sensei abruptly leans back and sighs, like a man carrying the weight of the world on his tired shoulders. "I shouldn't have asked. I shouldn't have said anything about this in the first place. Just… forget it."

Shiki looks up at the tall, grizzled man. There's a certain sort of irony in this, she thinks. Gojo Kiyohira is her teacher, the one responsible for teaching Shiki how to fight and kill. Yet out of the two of them, he's the one actively concerned by Shiki fighting and killing. She doesn't understand why it seems to be such a problem– isn't it only natural for a sorcerer to kill? And isn't Shiki specifically being trained to become a full-fledged sorcerer someday?

Without another word, Kiyohira-sensei turns and begins walking forward along the street again. The little girl hurriedly runs a few steps to catch up with the older man, reaching out and tugging his coat to get his attention.

Kiyohira-sensei grunts, "What is it?"

"Are you upset with me?"

The man whirls on her with a scowl, "You think I'm upset? I'm not upset, idiot girl, I'm worr–"

Shiki blinks in confusion when Kiyohira-sensei breaks off mid-word, making a frustrated sound.

"Look. I'm not upset with you," he says, sounding very upset. The little girl tries not to look too skeptical. "I'm just… trying to think of what to do from here. The last thing the clan needs is another Gojo Satoru, but… you…"

A heavy groan. "Oh, what am I to do with you, Shiki?"

She doesn't understand.

"… Teach me." Isn't that obvious? The little girl cocks her head, uncomprehending of why he is reacting like this. "You're… you're my teacher, aren't you?"

Kiyohira-sensei suddenly pauses. Glances down at her, with an unexpected, instantaneous sort of dawning realization in his eyes that settles into something determined.

"That I am," he responds softly. "That I am."

.

.

Shiki's return to the clan compound is a quiet affair, for the most part. There are several meetings held over her disastrous outing, but no real consensus is reached aside from a promise for a thorough investigation. Most of the arguing and politicking goes over her head, but by the end of it Daisaku-sama's sharp scowl has turned into something grudgingly satisfied instead, so Shiki cautiously takes that as a good sign. For now.

She and Kiyohira-sensei are soon dismissed, and they return to his dwellings together.

It's not hard for Shiki to notice that Kiyohira-sensei is more… careful, with her, following the aftermath of their strange conversation outside of the hospital. Still, during training, the man remains as harsh and unforgiving as ever. Shiki asks to learn knifework in addition to swordplay, and Kiyohira-sensei agrees to her request easily enough.

The strangest change in his demeanor is that he also starts encouraging her to play more with the other children in the clan. Which is quite baffling, especially considering his previous attitude on the matter. Kiyohira-sensei himself had been extremely wary of Shiki's cursed technique in the beginning, after all, so for his opinion to abruptly change like this…

Shiki eventually tries asking him about it one day, only to be bodily hauled up by the scruff of her summer yukata and tossed off of the engawa with strict orders not to return until the evening. Or continue any other training exercises during the meantime, or else.

… Utterly mystifying.

Shiki wanders aimlessly around the garden paths and ends up camping out in the camellia bush beneath Yuzuki-san's window for the remainder of the afternoon.

"I don't think this is what Kiyohira-san meant when he said you should spend more time outside, Shiki-san," the pale-faced boy tells her tiredly, breaking off into a round of raspy, rattling coughs. He doesn't chase her away, though, and eventually ends up exasperatedly handing over a worn scroll to Shiki under the weight of her silent, expectant gaze.

Of the children living in the compound, a small handful were around her age. There was only one other girl who happened to be exactly the same age as Shiki, but it was rare that she saw her around. Shiki suspected that it was deliberate –the rumors following the girl in question were less than kind, after all. Gojo Aya had been born out of wedlock as the result of a dalliance between one of the clan's sorcerers and a servant. One of the clan's married sorcerers, at that.

The last time Shiki had seen the other girl was sometime back when… back when she'd still been living with Ima-san? That sounds right. It's certainly been quite some time since then.

Visit me sometime, will you? Ima-san's voice drifts across her mind.

… Someday, maybe.

On the other hand, Gojo Yuzuki was a sickly boy three years Shiki's senior, with ashen hair and dark eyes the color of fine inkstone. The boy had a quiet voice and mild temperament that made him fairly relaxing to be around –likely a side-effect of the chronic illness that left him bedridden most days, and unable to run around the compound like all the others his age.

Shiki can commiserate with that, somewhat. Maybe not the 'bedridden' bit, but certainly the 'being confined' portion of it.

She'd met Gojo Yuzuki at a funeral.

… Isao-san's funeral, to be precise. It had all been very solemn and very proper, but when Yuzuki had introduced himself as one of Isao-san's younger cousins, Shiki had half-expected to be punched in the face, or something. Isao-san died protecting her, after all.

"You killed the curse user who did this?" had been the first words that Yuzuki-san had spoken to her, eyes dark with some unnamed emotion.

"Yes."

The older boy nodded once, firmly. "Good."

In addition to the service held for Isao-san, Shiki had also attended Suzurigi-san's funeral. Suzurigi Hideo, the unlucky chauffeur who'd also gotten caught up in the doll user's attack, and died for it. She'd had to learn the young man's name from one of the other servants.

Yuzuki-san had been visibly surprised to learn of it, when it came up in conversation, then quietly offered to accompany her.

Unlike the cold, choking silence that had filled the air at Isao-san's funeral, Suzurigi-san's funeral had been a much more emotionally charged affair. Several of the people present had openly been in tears, and one pale-faced young woman in particular had to be bodily carried out when she'd lost her composure and fainted in the middle of the proceedings.

"Hideo's fiancée," an elderly man had explained quietly. "They were childhood sweethearts, and she… she didn't take the news very well. Please forgive her unseemly behavior."

It's a funeral. What is there to forgive? Not to mention, it was Shiki's fault that the man was even dead in the first place.

… Shiki hadn't been sad when they died, both Isao-san and Suzurigi-san. She feels… responsible, in a way? But not sad. She doesn't know either of them well enough to be sad for their deaths. Shiki hadn't even been sad for Amanai Riko upon hearing of her death, and she'd certainly known and liked the girl better than the both of them.

But standing in attendance at Suzurigi-san's funeral, seeing the incessant tears, the open sorrow… something inside Shiki's chest had inexplicably clenched in response to the scene. Fleeting, and only for a moment, so brief that it was as if it hadn't existed at all. But it had still been more than enough for Shiki to decide that she didn't like it.

… She didn't want anyone to die for her. That's all.

"I'm sorry," she'd tried to say, but somehow that had only sent the Suzurigi family into a panic.

"Please don't say that, ojou-sama–"

"You honor us, the Suzurigi is unworthy of such words–"

"It is more than enough that we are graced by your presence! Please, don't–"

For the very first time, Shiki truly felt the suffocating weight of her new status as Gojo Shiki. It was a good thing that Yuzuki-san had been with her then, the boy swiftly stepped in upon noticing her stunned silence and deftly set about diffusing the minor upset with nothing more than a disarming smile and gentle words.

"Please, be at ease. Shiki-ojousama did not mean to imply anything with her apology," he'd murmured softly. "The Gojo Clan thanks Suzurigi-san for his service."

Shiki had left Suzurigi-san's funeral quiet and subdued. Thoughtful.

"… You're not going to start acting weird if I thank you for defusing things just now, are you?"

"No," Yuzuki-san had reassured her, vaguely amused. "They only responded like that because the Suzurigi is one of the clan's lower-ranked vassals, and they no longer have any active sorcerers in their bloodline. If they'd openly accepted an apology from the blessed child, it would've invited a lot of trouble for them –both from the Gojo Clan, and other vassal families looking to supplant them."

Shiki nodded slowly in understanding. Unlike swordplay and spellwork, koto and dancing and everything in-between, clan politics were not part of her lesson plans.

"Thank you for the explanation. And, thank you for helping me."

"You're welcome, Shiki-san. Anytime."

Anytime, he'd said.

In this moment, lying under the dappled shade of the camellia bush with a scroll on the Gojo Clan's history that she isn't even really reading anymore, a sudden thought strikes Shiki like a lightning bolt.

The white-haired girl sits up sharply and turns to tap at the open windowsill. "Yuzuki-san. Are we friends?"

"… Is this a precursor to something?" is the suspicious response that she gets. Shiki rolls her eyes.

"It's an honest question," she says pointedly.

"If we are," the boy responds after a beat of silence, "Then, may I ask you a question?"

A shadow falls across the frayed paper of the scroll in her hands. Shiki looks up to where Yuzuki-san has leaned halfway out over the window above her. Gojo Yuzuki is quiet and fairly easygoing, most of the time, but there's something in his expression that gives Shiki the impression that this is a serious question.

"Do you want to be the clan heir?"

"No." The response is thoughtless, immediate. Shiki follows it up by crossing her arms in an 'x' across her chest for emphasis. "Absolutely not. Satoru-oniichan is the heir, isn't he?"

"If Satoru-sama doesn't demand headship from Hisayasu-sama sometime soon within the next five years, I'll be incredibly surprised," Yuzuki-san says dryly despite his frail breath, and rolls his eyes. "When Satoru-sama becomes clan head, then. Will you put forth a claim for heirship?"

"No."

"Why not? … It might be difficult, but not impossible for you."

Because Shiki knows that the Gojo Clan only sees her as a tool. Her eyes are the only reason why they've stepped in to take care of her. In some respects, Shiki is grateful towards the Gojo Clan, but she's not blind to its faults. And… she doesn't know if she would ever truly consider herself a 'Gojo' someday. Knowing what she does of the clan, Shiki is perfectly happy to not involve herself any more than necessary in its matters and internal affairs.

"I'm not interested," she tells Yuzuki-san very firmly, "And I don't want it."

It's the truth.

The boy gives her a long look, then sighs.

"… Alright, I see how it is. Pass me the scroll, will you?" He holds out a hand, fingers sickly pale beneath the afternoon sunlight. "If you leave it on the ground like that any longer it's going to stain, and then I'll have some very awkward questions to answer from my parents."

Shiki startles a little, immediately picking up the scroll and brushing it off… it doesn't look like there are any growing stains, though?

"Sorry," she apologizes by rote regardless, and hands it back to its original owner. Yuzuki-san's fingers close over the worn paper, and the boy swiftly retracts his arm back into his room.

"It's fine. You shouldn't apologize so easily, though. Others might very well see it as something to capitalize on," he tells her, although there's no real reprimand in his tone. "How long did Kiyohira-san tell you to stay out for?"

Shiki pauses for a moment. "… The entire afternoon, I think. Why?"

Another scroll comes flying out of the window. Shiki deftly snatches it from the air and turns it around curiously.

"More clan history?"

"Even if you don't want to get involved in any more clan politics, a general understanding will only be helpful. I don't think you'd want to go around setting off any unintentional accidents." Yuzuki-san coughs harshly at the end of the sentence, losing his breath momentarily. "… As Satoru-sama says, 'Any incidents are best caused fully intentionally.'"

Shiki laughs, "That does sound like Satoru-oniichan."

Chapter Text

It's a morning like any other when the sliding door of the training hall abruptly slams open, suddenly and without warning. Shiki jolts and goes from halfway raising her wooden practice blade for a careful block to promptly hurling it across the room instead. Kiyohira-sensei immediately whirls on the doorway as well, hand flying to the hilt of his sword–

A delighted laugh sounds right next to Shiki's ear, and the little girl finds herself suddenly lifted into the air. Before she knows it, her wooden practice sword has been pressed back into her hand, and nimble fingers pinch her cheek for good measure.

"Is that really any way to greet your Toru-nii, hmm?"

"… It's not like it would've hit you," Shiki sniffs, leaning back as she rubs at her cheek. The red lines filling her field of vision flicker and fade as she blinks once, twice, shifting her perspective back to 'normal' as her racing pulse calms.

Satoru-oniichan pinches her cheek again in the brief moment that she's distracted. Shiki belatedly tries to move out of his reach, to no avail.

"Satoru-sama." Kiyohira-sensei greets, letting his hand drop to his side… and makes absolutely no move to help her, the traitor. "This is unexpected."

Oh, that's true. Satoru-oniichan is prone to randomly dropping in for spontaneous visits out of the blue, but it's rarely bright and early in the mornings like this, when Shiki has barely started her training for the day.

"Sorry for the short notice," the white-haired teen smiles cheerily, blatantly unapologetic. "I'll be borrowing Shiki for today!"

It takes a moment for the words to register. Kiyohira-sensei stiffens, "Excuse me?"

"Sure, you're excused."

"Rude," Shiki informs her cousin with a small huff, poking him in the cheek. Or tries to, at least. Her finger involuntarily comes to a stop millimeters above Satoru-oniichan's skin, and never reaches him.

Limitless.

The little girl draws back and gives her cousin a flat look, one that she hopes conveys just how thoroughly unimpressed she is with him. Satoru-oniichan grins unrepentantly and ruffles her hair instead, messing up her high ponytail into something more of a loose side-tail.

"Satoru-sama," a light scowl makes its way to Kiyohira-sensei's face, wholly unmoved by the lighthearted byplay, "Please explain."

"What? I think it's pretty self-explanatory," the white-haired teen shrugs, deliberately casual. He shifts and readjusts his hold on Shiki with familiar ease so that she's carried more comfortably in his arms. "I'll just be taking Shiki out for a day! Don't worry, I'll have her back before nightfall… probably."

The older man presses a hand to his forehead as if to stave off an oncoming headache. "… The elders haven't mentioned anything about this."

Satoru-oniichan nods faux-sympathetically. "Well, that would be because they don't know about it yet."

At that, Kiyohira-sensei's frown deepens. "You're bringing her out without even…? … No. No, I won't allow this!"

"Oh?" The younger sorcerer's voice is markedly amused. "What makes you think I'm asking for your permission?"

Shiki glances up towards her cousin, who seems to be unusually antagonistic today. He winks at her from behind his sunglasses, a brief action that Shiki only catches due to their close proximity.

Play along.

The little girl stares at him for a moment, then gives a mental shrug. Typical Satoru-oniichan.

"Kiyohira-sensei," Shiki turns around, "I'd like to head out with Satoru-niichan, please."

There's a complicated, almost-angry sort of expression that flashes across the older man's face at her easy acquiescence to her cousin. Shiki can sympathize with him, especially knowing what she does now of Kiyohira-sensei's opinions on Satoru-oniichan… but it's not enough to sway her decision. Despite what her teacher thinks, Shiki still trusts Satoru-oniichan, in a way that she doesn't quite know how to articulate herself.

… Sorry, Kiyohira-sensei.

"You know the elders haven't given their permission for you to leave," her teacher says tersely. "It's dangerous for you to step outside clan grounds. Have you already forgotten what happened last time?"

Right, 'last time' would be the recent disaster when Shiki had accompanied Satoru-oniichan and Geto-san on their mission, involving the subsequent death of Amanai Riko.

"Of course not," Shiki shakes her head, forcing herself to focus on the conversation at hand. "But I'm not going to hide away for the rest of my life because of it."

"You're not 'hiding away for the rest of your life,' that's not–"

"Oh, but it is," Satoru-oniichan interrupts with a wry drawl, "It's pretty obvious that the elders would like nothing better than to keep Shiki under their eyelids until she's old enough to go straight to Jujutsu High. Or are you going to tell me that I'm wrong?"

Kiyohira-sensei briefly closes his eyes and tips his head back, the very image of a man praying for patience as he manages to get out, "Don't be difficult."

The white-haired teen snorts challengingly. "Is that how we're playing this? Who's the one being difficult here, really?"

"… Where do you plan to take her?"

"Out."

Kiyohira-sensei gives Satoru-oniichan a withering look.

On the other hand, Shiki tilts her head thoughtfully. "… We'll be going to Jujutsu High, right?"

Both of them glance down at her simultaneously in surprise, Kiyohira-sensei with a furrowed face and Satoru-oniichan with an arched brow.

"You're taking all the fun out of the suspense," he tells her, and Shiki rolls her eyes.

"Please stop teasing Kiyohira-sensei," she says, with no real hope of her cousin actually listening to her. "… Does this have anything to do with recent developments regarding your teacher? Yaga-san?"

Satoru-oniichan pauses, and looks at her appraisingly. "News sure travels fast, huh? I didn't realize that you'd already heard about it back in the compound here."

The little girl shrugs, "Yuzuki-san mentioned it the other day."

There's a beat of silence before the older teen makes a small sound of comprehension. "Ah. Yuzuki, he's… Hajime's youngest, right? The scrawny one who's sick?"

"Mhm."

She gets a sympathetic headpat.

"Hajime's a real piece of work, but Yuzuki's got a good head on his shoulders," her cousin muses aloud, "Pity about his health, though."

Shiki nods silently in vague agreement. Although she's well-acquainted with Yuzuki, she still has yet to meet his father, Gojo Hajime. She can't say she's exactly looking forward to it. From the offhand comments that she's heard Yuzuki make about his father, it seems to line up well with what Satoru-oniichan is implying.

"Anyways! I think we've gotten a little off-topic here," her cousin spins back towards Kiyohira-sensei. "Don't worry, we're not running off on any missions or gallivanting off to the other side of the country for an impromptu beach trip. This time. I'll have her back by the evening."

Kiyohira-sensei pinches the bridge of his nose. "… Please tell me she's not going to get involved with any of the ongoing proceedings for Yaga Masamichi's trial."

"Of course not," Satoru-oniichan raises the little girl in his arms slightly for emphasis, "Shiki here will just be insurance!"

"… Satoru-sama."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," the teenager laughs. Kiyohira-sensei looks like he's just about ready to strangle his clan heir with his bare hands at this point, and Shiki doesn't think that's a good sign. Satoru-oniichan seems to sense the older man's growing ire, though, since he deigns to elaborate a little further, "The old fogeys are being annoying again, so I figure that they're overdue for a reminder."

Kiyohira-sensei gives him a wary look for those words. "Please don't go overboard again, Satoru-sama. Hirofumi-sama is still trying to patch things over with the Kamo Clan. And last I'd heard, Lady Matsuhime is still furious by how her eldest son has spontaneously developed a new fear of heights overnight."

Shiki blinks, and instinctively glances up towards her cousin. Satoru-oniichan smiles beatifically.

"Which I had nothing to do with, of course," he says brightly.

"Which you had nothing to do with…" Kiyohira-sensei shakes his head disbelievingly, "Look, even though there's no solid proof and Kamo Nobutomo is too terrified to say anything, literally no one believes that. You weren't exactly subtle about it, Satoru-sama."

Her cousin whistles, "Really? Well, that's a shame, because I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"… Right, of course you don't," Kiyohira-sensei rubs at his head tiredly. "Satoru-sama. You're… strong. Strong enough that you don't have to fear consequences for a lot of things. But please remember that the same doesn't apply to the people around you. I'm honestly even inclined to think that this may have been directly related to the kidnapping attempt on Shiki that day, the one that killed Isao–"

"So it was the Kamo Clan, then?"

"You're not listening to me," the man grunts with frustration. "Just… think about it. If you bring Shiki to the proceedings of your teacher's trial this time, can you really guarantee that no one will target her because of it in the future? Is it worth the risk?"

"I'm not bringing her into the trial," Satoru-oniichan responds evenly. "She doesn't have anything to do with that, anyways, so there's no point."

The older man scowls, "Then why are you bringing her with you to the school on the day of Yaga Masamichi's trial at all?!"

"I told you, didn't I? Insurance," the white-haired teen drawls, then turns towards Shiki. "Hey, want to help out your favorite cousin, and maybe make a new friend while you're at it?"

"Alright," the little girl agrees. "Is this friend related to Yaga-san?"

"Yes! As a matter of fact, I'll be taking you to meet Yaga-sensei's son. Aren't you excited?"

"Are you kidding me," Kiyohira-sensei interjects from the side. The man's voice sounds completely done. "You're… bringing Shiki to the jujutsu school with you. So she can watch over Yaga's mutated cursed corpse doll for you, while the rest of you are tied up with the trial?"

"Watch your tone, Kiyohira," Satoru-oniichan says blandly, "That's a kid you're talking about, and his name is Panda."

Panda? That's an interesting name, very unique. Shiki doesn't think she's ever met someone called 'Panda' before.

Kiyohira-sensei makes a face, "I don't care what its name is. Shiki shouldn't be involved in any of this!"

Satoru-oniichan huffs, "And she won't be. This is mostly just in case those old fossils try something stupid during the trial, really. She'll be perfectly fine."

"'Perfectly fine?' Like how she was supposed to be fine when the Star Plasma Vessel–"

"Kiyohira-sensei," Shiki swiftly interrupts, before the man can finish his sentence… and potentially get himself killed. "It'll be alright. I'll only be in the school this time, and I won't be attending Yaga-san's trial. There's no reason for anything to happen to me."

"You don't understand," the man huffs irritatedly, "It's not just about the immediate danger, it's also the ramifications. The implications that would potentially follow. Yaga was already detained once before for his experimentation with abnormal cursed corpses. That his trial has now been reopened, right in the aftermath of what happened with the Star Plasma Vessel… this isn't a coincidence. Certain factions are attempting to challenge Satoru-sama again, by targeting his close associates. The last thing we need is for you to go and make a target of yourself in the middle of this mess!"

She knows this. "But I'm not a target, Kiyohira-sensei. I'm more of a… warning in this instance, aren't I? The faction that's behind this trial… includes several elders from the Gojo Clan, doesn't it? That's the reason why Yaga-san's case was reopened so quickly, despite his open affiliation with Satoru-oniichan. There are higher-ups hoping to rein Satoru-oniichan in by making an example out of Yaga-san–"

"Which still has nothing to do with you–"

"But it's likely that Yaga-san won't actually be charged with anything," the little girl continues easily despite the interruption. "So, there's also a chance that they'll turn their sights on his cursed corpse doll instead. But if I'm there, then they'll see that and know Satoru-oniichan anticipated their actions beforehand. And that would be sufficient warning, unless they want to risk escalating."

Kiyohira-sensei frowns. "… Because you're already associated with Satoru-sama? So they'll see you and consider it a warning? But even if that's the case, there are still plenty of other ways to protect Yaga's cursed corpse doll without risking you."

"But it doesn't send the same message," Shiki raises a hand and taps pointedly at her eyes. Cursed blue eyes, so similar to her cousin's, and yet so very different. "If I show up unexpectedly, then it will also serve to prove beyond doubt that Satoru-oniichan's influence in the clan is stronger than they think. Because I'm currently supposed to be isolated and confined to clan grounds, right?"

The man pauses. "Are you saying…?"

"I'm not interested in causing trouble. But, I don't particularly care for the sort of games that the elders play, either," the little girl shrugs. "You know that, Kiyohira-sensei. So… this is a good opportunity for me to make that clear as well, isn't it?"

Her teacher stares at her mutely for a moment. "… How long have you been aware of all of this?"

There's no easy answer to that question regarding the intricacies of clan matters, honestly. But if she were to look back on things…

Shiki had always been acutely aware that the Gojo Clan only wanted her for her cursed eyes, from the very beginning. All this time, even if most of the elders' maneuvering in the background went over her head, it didn't mean that she didn't notice anything. Shiki isn't a genius, but she's not an oblivious idiot, either.

The little girl sighs quietly, feeling distinctly tired.

By the time Shiki and Satoru-oniichan finally leave for the jujutsu school together, Kiyohira-sensei still isn't particularly happy with the entire affair. But he does not try to physically stop them, and that's probably the best possible outcome.

Her cousin tousles her hair, "Since when did you get so smart?"

Shiki doesn't even bother attempting to re-straighten her hair anymore by this point. "Since Yuzuki-san started handing me half the clan's historical records to read, I guess. We've had some… interesting conversations."

"Hmm. I didn't realize that inter-clan politics and internal affairs were something you're interested in," Satoru-oniichan comments. "Did you go looking for extra readings because the scrolls from your lessons aren't enough for you?"

"Not really. My lessons have been focused on jujutsu history so far, not clan politics," Shiki makes a vague gesture with her hands. "I'm currently learning about how Chinese Taoism affected the development of onmyodo during the Heian Era."

"I see," her cousin says in a markedly neutral tone, and does not elaborate.

… Shiki gets the vague sense that she might've missed something yet again, but shrugs and lets it pass. There's something else that she's a little more concerned about, at the moment.

"Satoru-oniichan?" she asks.

"Yes?" comes the distracted response.

"… Will Kento-ojichan be at the school?"

"Yeah, he'll be there at the trial. You'll get a chance to see Nanami again afterwards, don't worry," Satoru-oniichan smiles. "He's been doing well. Very healthy set of lungs. I wouldn't want to get yelled at by him again haha, put in a good word for me?"

Shiki smiles a bit at the mental image those words paint, although it's also heavily tinted by concern. Guilt.

She knows that Satoru-oniichan had sought out Kento-ojichan during the time she'd been hospitalized to explain the tumultuous events of her disastrous outing. Neither of the two had shared the full details of their conversation that day with her, but from the way that Kento-ojichan had immediately swept Shiki into a crushing hug when he'd seen her again, from the way that there had been a distinctly choked note in his voice when he'd breathlessly whispered, Thank gods you're alright…

Shiki had been glad to see that Kento-ojichan was alright, too.

There had been many, many things she'd wanted to tell him at the time, when she'd finally seen her uncle again –and just as many things that she didn't want to say. Things that she didn't even know how to begin going about saying.

I almost died. I killed someone. Kiyohira-sensei was upset. Are you upset with me? … Please don't be upset with me.

Shiki is pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of her cousin's voice when he starts speaking again.

"Yaga-sensei has filled in for some of the first year classes before, too, so Nanami and Haibara will both be summoned for the trial. I'll bring Nanami with me afterwards, though," Satoru-oniichan tells her. "As for you… well, we really do need someone to keep an eye on Panda. The council already knows about Panda, and I don't trust them not to try and pull a fast one on us during the proceedings."

The little girl nods in understanding. "So I'll be with… Panda?"

"So you'll be sticking with Panda," her cousin agrees. "You're not wrong with what you said to Kiyohira earlier, but aside from that… I really do think you might be able to make a new friend. And if nothing else, at least it'll make the elders think twice about trying to lock you up in the future again! Probably."

She gets another headpat.

"There's no need to overthink things too much. Have fun with Panda! And remember to play nice."

Play nice.

She can do that.

.

.

As it turns out, 'Panda' is… quite literally, a panda. A fairly small panda, one that stands only slightly taller than Shiki herself in terms of height, but an honest-to-goodness panda nonetheless.

… At least that explains the name?

"So. Introductions!" Satoru-oniichan claps his hands together. "Panda, this is Shiki, my adorable little cousin! Also Nanami's niece. Try not to upset her, or you might find yourself turned into sashimi."

Shiki tries not to look too offended.

"S-sashimi…?"

The white-haired sorcerer ignores the nervous gulp from the talking panda in favor of turning back towards her.

His arm sweeps out with a flourish, "Shiki, this is Panda."

The little girl waits a beat for her cousin to continue… but no, apparently this is all that he has to say for Panda in terms of introductions. Somehow, she can't say that she's entirely surprised.

Shiki folds her arms across her chest and lets out a small 'hmph,' mildly put out. She thinks that she might finally understand why Kento-ojichan always tends to wear a flat, unamused expression on his face whenever Satoru-oniichan is around.

The teenager clutches at his chest and makes an exaggeratedly wounded sound in response to her reaction. Shiki swiftly ducks her head and hides a smile.

"Alright, I need to get going now. I'll leave the two of you to it, then." Satoru-oniichan straightens with an easy grin, "Be good! Don't do anything I wouldn't."

And with a conspiratorial wink and one last jaunty wave, her cousin spins on his heel and waltzes out of the room, the doors sliding shut behind him with resounding finality.

… Well. That's that, then, she supposes. Shiki turns her attention towards the other occupant in the room.

Mutated cursed corpse doll, Kiyohira-sensei had called it. Him, she consciously corrects herself. Satoru-oniichan had made it abundantly clear on the way here that Panda was his own person. This was, after all, a unique cursed corpse doll that had attained sentience and manifested a sense of self, quite unlike the mindlessness of most other cursed puppets that held little difference from any other cursed tools.

Shiki surveys the other child silently for a moment. Blinks, then leans forward.

"Why do you have three hearts?" she asks curiously. Or she assumes those are hearts, at least. The red lines scored across Panda cluster densely at three distinct, separate points on his torso… no, wait, that's not the right term for it. Cores? Right, cursed corpse dolls are made using 'cores.' "Three cursed cores, my mistake. Oh, that's interesting…"

The lines suddenly ripple alarmingly.

Shiki looks up, just in time to see how Panda's entire body shifts. The rounded lines tense and sharpen, bulk up with a harder edge. It's vaguely reminiscent of something almost… muscular. Misshapen, for sure. Long arms slam against the ground, hands curling into fists–

Wait, hands?

The little girl blinks, disconcerted. She's pretty sure that pandas have paws, not hands… not that Panda appears to resemble a panda very much anymore at the moment, which is probably a greater concern, going by the fluctuating cursed energy.

Shiki shakes her head and sighs at herself. It hasn't even been a full minute since Satoru-oniichan has left the room! … Maybe Kiyohira-sensei had a perfectly legitimate reason to despair over Shiki's distinct lack of social skills. Which probably hasn't been helped in the least by her longtime confinement to the clan compound.

"I bet you don't have very many friends, either," she tells the other kid, faintly commiserating.

"I do too!" comes an immediate protest to her words. It seems to have thrown the not-panda for a loop, the hostility in their stance replaced with confusion instead. "I… I have lots of friends!"

Confusion, with an undercurrent of something that sounds almost… upset?

… Shiki is starting to get the distinct impression that she may have messed up here, however unintentionally. Oops.

"I didn't mean any offense…" Shiki waves her hands in a vaguely conciliatory manner, feeling a bit at a loss as to what to do at this moment. Despite her cousin's joking words earlier, turning his sensei's 'son' into sashimi doesn't seem appropriate at all. "Um. Satoru-oniichan wanted me to stay with you for the duration of Yaga-san's trial… It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She's careful to try and present herself in a non-threatening manner as she offers her own awkward greeting, empty hands splayed open to prove that she's harmless… despite the knives hidden beneath the folds of her kimono. No need to mention that, though, right?

Panda stares at her for a long moment in complete silence, visibly tense. Then, "You talk funny."

"I do not," Shiki promptly denies. But wavers, as doubt seeps in through the cracks of her wavering confidence. "… Do I?"

Harsh edges gradually deflate and round out into something smooth once more. Panda gives a heartfelt nod, once more looking like a perfectly normal panda, for all intents and purposes –if pandas could stand upright on two hind legs and talk like a regular human.

"You do," he says, sounding vaguely sympathetic for some reason. "But it's okay, I won't make fun of you for it!"

"… Thanks?" Shiki wonders if she should be offended or not.

Panda nods seriously, sitting back on the ground in a light sprawl. Shiki follows his lead, taking a seat herself as well as she neatly folds her legs beneath herself.

The room is nice, clean and spacious –if rather empty. The tatami flooring isn't quite as nice as the one back in the Gojo clan compound, but perhaps that's only to be expected. Shiki has already been to Jujutsu High several times by this point, but the rooms in this particular section of the school are still new to her. She hasn't had reason to visit the barrier and containment rooms prior to today, and it's cozier than she'd expected, surprisingly.

Maybe it's nepotism? Panda is Yaga-san's 'son,' nominally, and from what she remembers Yaga-san is slated to be the next principal of the Tokyo jujutsu school.

The little girl's gaze flickers briefly to the sliding doors. Red lines gleam upon the wooden frames, but there are faint trails of something almost sky-blue curled over the surface as well. Likely indicative of whatever protective barriers or seals embedded into the wood.

Containment, or protection?

… Both, most likely. She'd suspected as much.

Although the reasoning that Satoru-oniichan had given to Kiyohira-sense for bringing Shiki out to the school today was ostensibly as 'insurance' for Panda's protection, it's probably not the full picture. There's most likely other factors at play as well –although her cousin isn't wrong in that Shiki would make a good deterrence against enemy action. Should any sorcerers be sent after Panda in the meantime, they would definitely think twice before acting if Shiki was present.

It's one thing to take an experimental cursed corpse doll into custody, but another thing entirely to take away a friend of a not-insignificant clan child. And even despite the various misgivings involved in Shiki's particular situation at large, there's no denying that the Gojo Clan is genuinely invested in her.

'Friend.'

… This would be why Satoru-oniichan had specifically asked if she would like to make a new friend earlier, then. Helping the 'child' of his teacher while getting Shiki out of the stifling clan compound for a while at the same time –two birds, meet one stone.

Typical Satoru-oniichan.

Shiki shakes her head with a sigh. It's not as if she's opposed to going along with her cousin's plans on the fly, but Shiki can't help but think that it would've been nice if he'd actually talked to her about it, rather than leave her to cobble the pieces together herself.

Maybe it's a clan thing? Who knows.

Panda is… surprisingly cheery and good-natured. Even though they'd started off on the wrong foot, it doesn't take long for the other child to become comfortable with her, chattering on about a cool beetle that he'd found out in the mountain underbrush.

Shiki, not having any particular feelings on bugs, hums lightly to indicate vague interest even though she doesn't follow the line of conversation very well.

Thankfully, Panda doesn't seem to be off-put when she quietly admits that she's never gone bug-hunting before. Instead, he puffs out his chest and declares that he knows the best spots to find bugs –and he can show Shiki all his cool findings next time! She can come along with him.

Shiki tries not to think about how she'll most likely be stuck in the clan estate for a month straight after her impromptu escapade today. It's still worth it, though. Daisaku-sama, for one, had not seemed inclined to loosen any of the restrictions on her until the next year, and Shiki–

It's not as if she doesn't understand that it's dangerous, this new world she now lives in. But if things continue forever like this, from weeks to months to years… how long will it take until hiding becomes a habit for her? Until it becomes an automatic response to anything and everything? Is she going to be stuck hiding for her entire life?

I refuse.

"You don't go out much, do you?"

"I do not, no." Shiki recalls a sandy beachfront and a brilliant expanse of blue water, glittering beneath the sun. Despite the way things turned out in the end, Okinawa had been… nice. She's not sure if she ever wants to go to a beach again, though. "What about you?"

Her playmate brightens. It's a little jarring, seeing such emotive, humanlike expressions on a panda's face, but Shiki has seen far stranger things by this point. Things that are far, far more disturbing than a fluffy cursed corpse doll determined to be friends with her.

"I go out lots!" Panda exclaims excitedly. Then deflates a little bit, "Only in the mountains, though. Dad says it's not safe to head into the city on my own. I dunno, I think I'd be fine! I'm great with directions!"

"… I don't think that's what Yaga-san is concerned about," Shiki says, as diplomatically as she can. Considering that Panda looks like a… well, panda, there's a very obvious reason why Yaga-san would want to keep him away from public venues. The sort of attention that a 'human-like panda' would draw from the public eye couldn't be good for jujutsu sorcerers, who mostly operated discreetly from the shadows in secrecy.

"Eh?"

"It's nothing," the little girl sighs.

Still. The prospect of being restricted to a limited area is something that Shiki can relate to, especially given her circumstances, and it makes her a bit more sympathetic towards her new friend. In a way, both of them have been restricted like this for their own safety and protection.

(Until the day they become strong enough to stand by themselves.)

The conversation moves on as the two grow more familiar with each other. At some point, Panda reaches behind himself and pulls out a stack of paper triumphantly, and Shiki gets an impromptu crash course in folding paper stars.

"If you fold a thousand of them, then you can make a wish!"

Shiki tilts her head, confused, "I thought that was cranes?"

"Uhh…"

It's a moot point in the end, though, as they stare blankly at each other and come to the inevitable realization that neither of them know how to fold paper cranes. Might as well stick with stars, in that case–

And then the door slams open with an unceremonious thud, sharp and jarring.

Shiki knows, even before she turns to look, that it's not Satoru-oniichan. Nor anyone else that she recognizes, for that matter.

"In accordance with the current regulations, subject 'Panda' is to be taken into custody until such that–" The self-important look on the haughty stranger's face disappears the instant he makes eye contact with her. "You… you're…?"

She can see the moment it clicks for him. A tiny little girl with snow-white hair and cursed blue eyes… the distinct features that so loudly announce her identity to all and sundry are on full display. She's not even making a token effort to wear sunglasses. Zero deniability.

There's a pinched expression on the sorcerer's face now, one that almost makes it look as if he'd bitten into a lemon.

"Greetings to the blessed child," he says curtly.

Back straight, shoulders relaxed, chin lifted. Shiki recalls Yuzuki-san's advice, and dips her head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Greetings," she responds serenely. In contrast to her carefully-projected calm, Panda is noticeably tense beside her. Shiki pats his paw, trying to deliver a silent message of Don't worry, it'll be alright–

Ah. The sorcerer is openly frowning now, and not even bothering to hide it. Probably because Shiki had just made it blatantly clear whose side she was on here.

"Gojo-sama, I must request that you remove your presence from that thing." The man's voice is clipped, short and perfunctory. "That's a volatile experimental body, an abrupt mutated cursed corpse of unknown–"

"You will not take Panda," Shiki shakes her head as she cuts him off. "You do not have the authority."

Taking Panda into custody while Yaga was currently facing trial was something that depended entirely on one's perspective, honestly. If viewing Panda strictly as a cursed corpse, a cursed object –then yes, dangerous objects being seized and confiscated was something perfectly normal for the higher-ups to demand in a situation like this. But by this point, Shiki had no doubts that Panda was his own person and sentient, she could see it. It made sense for Panda to be watched and confined, but not unilaterally dragged away, never to be seen again.

The sorcerer scowls, taking a threatening step forward. Shiki mentally prepares herself to grab the knives she'd hidden on herself, just in case. "'Authority?' My authority is absolutely unquestionable, you–"

"Are you sure about that?"

The man stiffens, and whirls around to meet the new arrival. It's not Satoru-oniichan, the voice isn't right –not to mention, her cousin should still be at Yaga-san's ongoing trial at the moment– but it still sounds vaguely familiar, for some reason…?

"Gojo Jihei," the antagonistic sorcerer grits out, clearly disgruntled. "Why are you here?"

Ah. It's Jihei-san, Daisaku-sama's aide. Shiki remembers seeing the brown-haired man following after the wizened elder at more than one clan meeting. He'd also… been the one who'd brought Shiki to Kiyohira-sensei's doorstep what seemed like a lifetime ago. She sees him around occasionally, enough that he's a familiar face, even though it's always to carry out Daisaku-sama's orders.

From that perspective, it's fairly obvious why he's here, following Shiki's escape from the clan compound.

Gojo Jihei inclines his head, an elegant motion. "Kamo Nagaharu. I believe it would be best for you to leave now. If it's of any consolation, please rest assured that the abrupt mutated cursed corpse will not be removed from this room. The contaminants for this room remain secure."

"… Is that how Gojo Daisaku-sama is playing things?"

Jihei-san smiles pleasantly. The expression does not reach his eyes.

"It would be best," he repeats himself, soft and casual, "For you to leave."

There's a moment of stilted silence, before Kamo-san backs down with a slight huff. Shiki gets the feeling that she's missed something again –not that that's anything new at this point– but still, it's good that the situation hasn't… escalated.

Her fellow clansman casts a pointed look towards where Shiki's hand rests not-so-discreetly over her knife the moment the Kamo sorcerer is out of sight.

"Shiki-sama," Jihei-san sounds distinctly pained, "I sincerely hope you weren't planning to cause another uproar with the Kamo Clan while Lady Matsuhime is still on the warpath these days."

"I wasn't going to attack him," Shiki looks away in favor of smoothing out her kimono instead.

"Then I must thank you for your restraint," the man says dryly.

For a moment, silence falls between them.

"… Is that all? I would've thought that you'd be here to take me back immediately."

Jihei-san shrugs. "Daisaku-sama had already been notified the moment you stepped outside the compound with Satoru-sama. He's certainly not happy about it, but… Muneyoshi-sama managed to talk him down. Although, I suspect you'll have a stern talking-to waiting for you after you return."

Shiki nods. A stern reprimand is only to be expected, given her actions, but she's still somewhat surprised that overbearing Daisaku-sama didn't tell Jihei-san to drag her back to the clan compound immediately the moment he found her.

"… Can returning wait until I've seen Kento-ojichan?"

The man pauses. There is a moment where he regards her silently, and his countenance softens.

"Yes, certainly. That's fine."

Shiki dips her head in thanks. "I appreciate it, Jihei-san."

The sorcerer waves a hand as he looks away, omitting any verbal response.

"'Kento-ojichan?'" To the side, Panda suddenly perks up and makes a sound of dawning comprehension –Shiki had honestly almost forgotten about him for a moment there, whoops. "As in, Nanami Kento?"

"Mhm. My uncle."

"Oh, gotcha. Wait… but isn't Gojo-san your cousin? How does that even work?"

The little girl sighs, suddenly inexplicably tired, "… It's a long story."

Chapter Text

There is a pinched expression on Daisaku-sama’s face when Shiki finally returns to the compound. Which is unsurprising, although the elderly man is quick to smooth it away into his usual mask of something calm and unreadable as Shiki takes a seat at the low tea table.

For a long moment, he does not speak, and the two sit across from each other in absolute silence.

“… Did you enjoy yourself, at least?”

The little girl blinks. 

Well, that’s unexpected.

Her outward reaction is perhaps a tad too obvious, if the wry look that the elder gives her is anything to go by.

“Contrary to what you and Satoru-kun might think,” the old man drawls, “I, in fact, do not derive any enjoyment from making children miserable. Even if that tends to be an unfortunate side-effect more often than not, admittedly… but nonetheless necessary.”

Shiki quietly lifts the ceramic cup in front of her to take a small sip of tea, and does not say anything in response.

Daisaku-sama sighs. 

“It has recently been brought to my attention that the limitations placed on you may have been… unnecessarily restrictive,” he says slowly. “And we do have a general understanding of your Fragility technique now. You also appear to be capable of basic control. Leniency should be granted.”

The elder pauses to take a sip of his own tea.

“That being said,” he continues, “It would still behoove you to listen –or at the very least, voice your displeasures or any concerns before you decide to take matters into your own hands. Or run off with Satoru-kun without a word, as the case may be. Your safety and wellbeing are of great importance to the clan, and I would ask that you keep that in mind.”

Shiki nods mutely. These words are… somewhat new. She’s still a little surprised, she hadn’t thought that… 

“Not what you expected?” Daisaku-sama chuckles, setting his cup down on the low table. He smiles knowingly, and the wrinkles lining his eyes crinkle with a thousand folds.

It’s such a strange expression to see on stately, severe Daisaku-sama, that Shiki finds herself openly staring. In this moment, Daisaku-sama looks more like an old grandpa than an austere, refined elder. It’s… 

… strange. Disconcerting.

Shiki doesn’t know what to make of it.

“I know you haven’t enjoyed being locked up in the compound as you have been. Few would, let alone a child of your age who is raring to explore the world around them… but I digress. Please believe me when I say that it really is for your own good, and for your safety.” The old man leans back with a sigh. “Your eyes, your power… just as there are those who wish you well and desire to see you succeed, there are also many others who would wish you ill and desire to see you dead. Don’t resent the clan for looking out for your best interests, even if it may have been… overbearing.”

Are Daisaku-sama’s words true? The Gojo Clan’s hold on her, all the unmistakable power plays that she’s witnessed and experienced both peripherally and directly in her time here… suggests otherwise. But it’s undeniable that they have been protecting her. Feeding her and clothing her, providing education –even though it’s an education in the highly hazardous ‘family trade.’ 

Of course, Shiki understands perfectly well that this is so they can make use of her and her eyes in the future. But even so, she’s not ungrateful.

… Still. Shiki protests being trapped inside the clan compound like a bird inside a cage. She sees where Daisaku-sama is coming from with his concerns for her safety –aside from the one trip where Satoru-oniichan had plucked her out of the hospital to reunite her with Kento-ojichan, her other trips outside the compound have all ended disastrously. The incident with the Kamo Clan had not been without its complications. Then there was the subsequent outing that had resulted in Shiki’s encounter with that doll curse user, and then the Sorcerer Killer… the less said about that, the better.

But despite the risks and dangers, it’s still not a reason to just hide away forever and ever with no end in sight. Daisaku-sama might have a point, but it still doesn’t change the truth of the matter, and the truth is:

Shiki is important to the Gojo Clan, but only because of her eyes. And precisely because of her eyes, she is expected to become a sorcerer. A Gojo sorcerer. The clan will invest resources in her, and she will be expected to give back to the clan in the future as a return on this investment, so–

So of course they would care for her wellbeing. It only makes sense.

And that’s… fine. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing in the world comes for free, and it’s not as if the Gojo Clan has been particularly subtle about their intentions in the first place, regarding this particular matter.

But there’s a limit to everything. Shiki is willing to acquiesce and give what little she has to offer, but not blindly and without reserve. 

She’s learned that much by now, at least.

“I understand,” is all she says mildly in the end, placid and calm. No matter her personal feelings, there’s no point in getting into a drawn-out argument with Daisaku-sama over it at this moment. Time will tell whether the words he’d spoken were truth, or merely another layer of lies.

The elder nods. “With all of that said… it is the decision of the clan that the restrictions on your movements be lessened. Going forward, you will be allowed your own trips outside the compound, but only when appropriately accompanied by another adult member of the clan –the details of which we shall discuss at a later date, when Kiyohira is present.”

Oh. 

How strange.

It’s strange, that this is apparently the consensus that the elders have agreed upon. Shiki lifts her tea and takes another long sip in a poor attempt to hide her own confusion. 

She would’ve thought that her restrictions would be potentially increased as punishment for disobeying the standing order for her to remain within the clan compound. After all, Shiki had made the conscious decision to willfully disobey when Satoru-niichan showed up in the morning with an easy smile. 

“Surprised?” As expected, sharp-eyed Daisaku-sama does not miss her reaction. “Certainly, there were those who pushed for punishment. Discipline. But a point has been raised that perhaps it would be prudent to re-examine our previous methods, considering how Satoru-kun turned out…”

Daisaku-sama trails off with a slight cough, followed by a heavy, heartfelt sigh. And suddenly, Shiki cannot help but recall the conversation she’d had before with Kiyohira-sensei, when he’d said–

The last thing the clan needs is another Gojo Satoru.

… It’s not literal, of course. In this world, those born with the ability to use cursed energy were rare, and those born with cursed techniques were rarer still. It was an astonishingly miniscule percentage of the population that had the capacity to become sorcerers… and among that sparing number, a sorcerer with the strength and potential of someone like Gojo Satoru?

No. There is little doubt in Shiki’s mind that, were there another Gojo clansman born with the Six Eyes and possessing Limitless, the elders would be over the moon.

Sorcerers value strength, and Gojo Satoru is strong –the strongest. The Gojo Clan would never ‘not need’ another Gojo Satoru. Why else would there be so much attention on Shiki otherwise?

But his… personality. Her cousin’s disposition, his worldview, his values and his beliefs… did not quite match up with the clan as well as the elders would’ve liked. And that was what caused the elders such constant, consistent headaches–

If Shiki’s personality was anything like Satoru-oniichan’s, she thinks that Daisaku-sama probably would’ve already gone bald from stress or something at this point.

… Now that’s a thought.

Regardless… the clan’s difficulties with Satoru-niichan aside, the very fact that they chose to loosen Shiki’s restrictions at a time like this… is this their way of trying to placate her, perhaps? So that Shiki wouldn’t be tempted to pull something more drastic in the future. Heading off to the school in Tokyo with Satoru-niichan was alarming enough that it warranted a response, but harmless and innocuous enough that a slight acquiescence in Shiki’s favor was deemed more suitable than any punishment. It could also be construed as a ‘reward’ for good behavior up until this point; after all, Shiki mostly kept to herself with Kiyohira-sensei’s training and rarely raised a fuss over anything.

She wonders if Satoru-oniichan had thought of all of this, when he’d blown in through the sliding doors and carried her out despite Kiyohira-sensei’s disapproval. It wouldn’t be surprising.

“You remind me of Satoru-kun, when he was younger.”

Shiki pauses, teacup held loosely in her hands, and looks askance towards the elder.

Daisaku-sama chortles lightly, “Ah. You don’t see it, do you? I wouldn’t blame you. But believe it or not, Satoru-kun wasn’t always such a… difficult child. He used to be the model, ideal heir back then… I wonder, when did it all change?”

There’s a note of something nostalgic, almost wistful in the old man’s voice as he muses aloud to himself, lost in his memories.

“… What was he like?”

Daisaku-sama blinks, his attention sharply recalled by the sound of his young guest’s voice. “Pardon me, what was your question?”

“What was he like?” Shiki repeats herself. “… Satoru-oniichan. You said he used to be different.”

It’s mostly curiosity that compels her to take initiative and ask, when she’s usually content to sit back in silence and let Daisaku-sama talk himself into a parched throat before finally dismissing her. Shiki has trouble imagining Satoru-oniichan being any measure of obedient, not when his usual interactions with his clan’s elders are all varying degrees of antagonistic, given his brazen attitude and careless irreverence.

“Satoru-kun?” Daisaku-sama smiles. “Well. He used to be a lot quieter, for one, always preferring to observe what was going on around him. Muneyoshi used to fret about it. He was always worried about Satoru-kun losing touch with the people around him, given how the boy distanced himself from others. Untouchable. As befitting of the Honored One, you could say.”

… Are they really talking about the same Gojo Satoru? Cold and unfeeling? Distant like some eldritch god, even during his childhood years?

“I don’t see it.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t,” the elder responds, bemused. “Quite different from how he is nowadays, isn’t it? But I have no reason to lie about this, and you’ll find similar answers if you ask any of the other elders.”

That may very well be the case, but there’s something in Daisaku-sama’s expression that gives her pause regardless.

Shiki briefly deliberates for a moment, but chooses to ask her next question regardless.

“Is that good or bad, then?”

The little girl tilts her head ever so slightly and stares intently at her elder, in a manner that’s almost borderline disrespectful. To his credit, Daisaku-sama does not take offense, nor does he promptly dismiss her out of hand. Instead, a pensive look flashes across his face, before settling into something thoughtful. Contemplative.

“Neither,” he finally answers. “Regarding Satoru-kun… I may be his elder, but even so it is not my place to pass judgment on such things. Who am I, to speak such things of he who is raised as the honored one?”

The old man chuckles.

“It’s neither good nor bad,” he murmurs again, quieter, this time. Almost as if he’s speaking to himself. “Satoru-kun’s very existence will cement the superiority of the Gojo Clan in this age, indisputable and undeniable. Immovable. In the end, that’s all that’s truly necessary.”

There’s a note of something both fervently worshipful and loathingly self-mocking in those words.

Shiki hums lightly, thoughtfully.

Daisaku-sama raises his eyes from the table to look at her, and this time there’s something slightly crooked in his smile.

“Satoru-kun is the first in four hundred years to be born with both the Six Eyes and Limitless,” he tells her. “He was destined from the moment of his birth to one day stand at the very top and lead the Gojo Clan forward into the future. His… quirks of personality aside, there is no reason for anyone from the Gojo Clan to commit themselves to obstructing his way. We may oppose him, when our opinions differ, but there is no reason for us to deny him. 

Does that answer your question, little Shiki?”

She supposes that she hadn’t been particularly subtle, not that she’d been going for subtlety in the first place, with a question like that. And Daisaku-sama is a very perceptive man. 

When Shiki had asked him if Satoru-oniichan’s current state was good or bad, it had really been more of asking after what he –and by extension, the other elders– thought of their esteemed clan heir. Their untraditional, eccentric clan heir… who was also the strongest.

… Going by Daisaku-sama’s response, Satoru-oniichan still undoubtedly held his clan’s support, even despite distinct differences. But Shiki hadn’t forgotten about Yaga-san’s trial, hadn’t forgotten how the entire reason why it was reopened so swiftly was because there were elders who desired to bring Satoru-oniichan to heel, and–

And there’s absolutely no way Daisaku-sama wouldn’t know about that. So why is he saying these things to her?

What does he want? No, that might not be the right way to look at this. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Yuzuki-san’s voice in her mind pipes chooses to pipe up in this moment, whispering, What does he stand to gain?

Just how much honesty was in Daisaku-sama’s words, when he’d tacitly implied unconditional support for Satoru-oniichan, no matter any apparent preexisting misgivings?

“I…” What should she say? Should she continue to press him on this topic? Should she accuse him of lying? Or would it be better to keep her thoughts to herself and pretend to know nothing? “… I like Satoru-oniichan.”

Silence reigns in the air. 

… Shiki needs to get better at holding her tongue, clearly she’s spent too much time around a certain ‘six-eyed’ cousin.

“He’s not always nice,” she says haltingly, and it’s true. Satoru-oniichan can be nice, but at his core he’s someone who’s really, really not. And that’s perfectly fine. “But I trust him. You… don’t.”

Because that’s what this conflict really boils down to, isn’t it? A lack of trust spurring on the desire for control, which in turn only exacerbated the lack of trust on both sides. Or something along those lines, more or less.

Daisaku-sama merely raises an eyebrow. 

“That’s a heavy accusation to make, Shiki-chan,” he comments mildly, not sounding upset in the least. 

It’s not an outright refutal of her words, though.

“… You trust in Satoru-oniichan’s strength,” the little girl says pointedly, and leaves it at that.

You trust Gojo Satoru’s power, his overwhelming strength. But you don’t trust him as a person. Not as your future clan head, even as you accept his power.

The elder outright laughs, hearing the unspoken words loud and clear.

“I’m not the only one.” This time, he doesn’t even bother with the thin veneer of denying anything. “But unlike Takatomi-san and the rest of his allies, who believe that Satoru-kun’s strength will only lead the clan to its ruin if not properly tempered… I am willing to see how far he’ll go. To sit back and observe, before I commit myself to making any decisions.”

The elder sets down his teacup on the low table with a resounding clack.

“Do you have any more questions for me?”

It feels both like a test and not. Shiki pauses, thinking.

… She holds no fondness for all of this. The constant maneuvering, the power plays… but at the same time, she’s beginning to discover that it’s only inevitable, living with the Gojo Clan. With growing resignation, she realizes that Yuzuki was right, once again; even if this isn’t something she likes, it’s still something that she should be aware and knowing of –in self-defense, if nothing else. 

(How does Satoru-oniichan stand this? Her cousin does not strike her as the type of person to be particularly appreciative of such politicking, no matter his apparent skill with navigating it.)

The little girl sighs.

“… Only one. Does the clan hope to change Satoru-oniichan?”

Or is the clan open to being changed by him? By the changes that Gojo Satoru’s inevitable headship of the Gojo Clan would undoubtedly bring?

Daisaku-sama’s genial smile widens, just a touch sharp.

“Clever girl,” he says, faintly approving. “And yet there are still naysayers within the clan who insist that you are nothing like Satoru-kun.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s not, no,” Daisaku-sama’s gnarled fingers tap idly against the edge of the table. “Come by again for tea sometime, Shiki. I will answer your question then, if you haven’t discovered the answer yourself already.”

.

.

As Daisaku-sama had promised, the Gojo Clan does indeed loosen their stringent restrictions on Shiki’s whereabouts, in the aftermath of her visiting the Tokyo school during Yaga-san’s trial. There’s still a strict curfew and an extra stipulation requiring that Shiki be accompanied by at least two Special Grade One sorcerers whenever she so chooses to leave clan grounds, but it’s still a vast improvement over being indefinitely imprisoned inside the compound with no end in sight.

However, it soon becomes apparent that this concession from the elders had not been made solely for the sake of placating her. 

On a bright, chilly morning, Shiki follows two of the clan’s sorcerers out into the countryside and watches them exorcise a curse. A curse that vaguely resembled a bloated raccoon, or something along those lines?

… Still. The sorcerers are skilled, and the whole affair goes smoothly. It’s not a particularly strong curse, either, probably a high Grade Four at the very most. 

Shiki watches the purple-black body burst into formless smoke upon the curse’s death, dissipating into nothingness in the morning air, and stifles a yawn.

It’s not until she’s already returned to the compound for her daily training with Kiyohira-sensei after that quick morning jaunt that Shiki realizes the implications, halfway through swinging her wooden practice sword.

Field experience.

It’s a bit early, maybe. But there’s no denying that the trip she’d just had was less a casual outing and more of a mission instead. A mission to exorcise a curse, just like the missions that Satoru-oniichan and Kento-ojichan take between their lessons in school. 

(Just like the mission that Amanai had died on.)

Thus far, most of Shiki’s lessons had consisted of carefully-controlled exercises, with multiple safeguards in place to prevent any unfortunate accidents. Shiki has some measure of experience fighting curses –mostly Grade Fours– under the watchful eye of Kiyohira-sensei and the clan’s other sorcerers. These curses would gradually grow stronger and stronger. Shiki would be tasked to shadow other sorcerers on their missions to learn from their experience.

And eventually, one day Shiki would also be expected to take on missions all by herself, too. Just like Satoru-oniichan. 

She still doesn’t consider herself to be quite ready, but she supposes that’s what all the training is for.

… Unsurprisingly, Kento-ojichan is furious when he finds out.

“What is your clan thinking?!”

Kento-ojichan is furious, but it’s a sort of helpless fury. It still doesn’t stop him from being one step away from grabbing Satoru-oniichan by the collar and bodily shaking the older boy. It’s probably only the knowledge that Satoru-oniichan has Limitless that stops him from doing anything drastic. 

Satoru-oniichan makes an understanding sound, “So this is why no one kicked up a fuss after Yaga-sensei’s trial, huh?”

Shiki gives her cousin a look as Kento-ojichan’s jaw clenches. He’s not helping!

“Aww, c’mon.” A hand claps down on top of the little girl’s head, ruffling her hair none-too-gently. Her cousin sighs. “I get that it’s not ideal, but you have to admit, it’s better than the alternative.”

“The ‘alternative’ being?”

“Complete isolation. Or, potentially…” Satoru-oniichan trails off into uncharacteristic silence. Then he straightens, shaking his head roughly. “It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have let it happen, of course –so don’t give me that face, Nanami-kun– but there would’ve been some troublesome maneuvering involved. Lucky for us that things didn’t come to that point, right?”

If looks could kill, Kento-ojichan’s withering glare would’ve buried his upperclassman six feet under without a doubt. 

“I don’t like this,” her young uncle says tersely. “I don’t like this at all. Your clan said they would protect her, not–!”

“On that note,” Satoru-oniichan interrupts, “You do realize that protecting her also includes training her to be able to protect herself, yes?”

Kento-ojichan scowls, “She’s only six years old!”

“And I was around the same age when I first started shadowing others on their missions like her,” the white-haired teen responds, unfazed. Kento-ojichan sucks in a sharp, startled breath.

… The conversation that follows does not end on a particularly happy note. 

They both mean well, in their own ways. Kento-ojichan wants Shiki to be safe, which involves staying far away from any missions, while Satoru-oniichan simply doesn’t see any issues with this new learning opportunity. But Satoru-oniichan understands, in a way that Shiki is starting to suspect that Kento-ojichan simply doesn’t… that strength is paramount for more than just survival, in a sorcerer’s endless battle against curses. Particularly if one is training to become a sorcerer in a clan of sorcerers.

But that’s a different topic for another time.

Here and now, Kento-ojichan cannot overturn the Gojo Clan’s decisions, and Satoru-oniichan does not see the need to challenge his clan on this new development, so the arrangement continues as it is. 

Shiki continues training with Kiyohira-sensei, and occasionally accompanies various other sorcerers on their missions, despite her uncle’s disapproval. 

The vast majority of the missions that she shadows are only Grade Four exorcisms, so it’s not like there’s ever any real danger. Shiki tries explaining this to Kento-ojichan at some point, but it only ends up making her uncle even more upset, for some reason.

She doesn’t understand.

“I don’t get it,” Shiki eventually gives up and admits to Yuzuki-san one day. The two children are casually seated next to each other on the engawa overlooking one of the koi ponds in the clan garden, a pile of scrolls stacked between them. “I know he’s… worried. But why?”

The older boy stills, then turns and levels her with a flat, unimpressed look. “You don’t understand why your uncle could possibly be worried for his six year old niece, who’s just about ready to receive missions of her own to kill curses?”

Shiki huffs, pouting. Okay, it does sound a bit ridiculous when he puts it that way. But at the same time…

“He knows that this is what the Gojo Clan wanted of me from the start, with this entire arrangement.” The little girl idly swings her legs, feet barely brushing over the lush grass underfoot. “It’s not a surprise, so I don’t see why–”

Shiki cuts herself off when her friend suddenly breaks into another lung-rattling coughing fit. She hovers awkwardly for a moment. Does she pat him on the back? Grab another handkerchief before the one he’s currently using becomes bloodstained again?

In the end, Shiki ends up quietly passing him a bowl of the bitter-black medicine kept in a ceramic pot on a tray to the side. The older boy mutters a quick thanks, then downs the entire thing in one go without even batting an eye.

Impressive, truly.

“Let me get this straight,” Yuzuki-san clears his throat hoarsely. “Your uncle is… worried. And that’s a problem for you?”

“… I wouldn’t say a problem,” Shiki responds slowly. How does she describe it? It’s not so much a problem as it is– “Just, I don’t want him to always be worrying like this. And it’s not as if I’m going to be looking for curse users to fight! So there’s really no need for him to… to…”

“Hmm,” Yuzuki-san hums thoughtfully beside her. “Shiki-san, think about it. Would you say that you’re worried for Nanami-san whenever he is sent out on a mission?”

Yes, in that he’s her uncle. Shiki cares for Kento-ojichan’s wellbeing and all sorcerers’ missions carry some level of risk to them. 

But at the same time… no.  

Is it the thoughtless confidence of a child that makes her think this way? Not really. She knows that Kento-ojichan isn’t like Satoru-oniichan, and it’s unlikely that her uncle would ever claim the title of strongest. And even Satoru-oniichan isn’t infallible.

But by that train of thought –it’s unlikely that Kento-ojichan would ever be assigned to truly dangerous missions, Grade Ones and the like, given his ranking. And Kento-ojichan is capable. He knows how to handle himself.

… Does this mean that Shiki trusts Kento-ojichan because of his strength?

Why does everything have to come down to power, for a sorcerer?

.

.

Shiki’s first mission is assigned to her when she’s seven years old, in the early summer. It’s a Grade Four exorcism out in the nameless countryside, clean and simple. 

The little girl arrives at the containment barrier, accompanied by Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san. 

… Ten minutes later, she’s sitting back in the car and on her way to returning to the clan compound.

There’s really not much to be said about the entire experience. It had only been a low-level Grade Four curse, one that had been fairly harmless, for all intents and purposes. Barely above a flyhead. Maybe it would’ve become dangerous after a few years to absorb the frustrations of low harvests or failed crops… not that it would ever have the chance to.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Jihei-san,” Shiki responds, resisting the urge to stifle a yawn. To the side, Kiyohira-sensei looks bored out of his mind, and makes no attempt to hide it. Jihei-san is better about hiding his feelings, given his pleasant smile and gentle concern, but Shiki would be very surprised if the man didn’t find this entire affair to be as boring as everyone else did. Even Shiki.

She wonders if it had been her previous experiences with the doll curse user and the Sorcerer Killer that skewed her perceptions here. Possibly, maybe?

Whatever the case, Shiki actually finds to her surprise that it’s the curses she fights during her training sessions within the compound that end up constituting any sort of challenge to her, ironically enough. She’s aware that the Gojo Clan –or rather, probably just Daisaku-sama– is trying to be extremely careful about the missions that she’s being sent on. 

It works–

–until it doesn’t. 

… Or rather, it works up until the day Shiki decides to look for Kento-ojichan after one of her missions.

It all starts off harmlessly enough. Shiki makes her request and Jihei-san raises his hands in a halfhearted gesture, because–

“We’re supposed to return directly to the compound.”

“Please?” Batting her eyes and trying to look cute isn’t exactly a trick that works for her –she’s been told multiple times that her eyes look unnerving, and Gojo Satoru is literally the only person in the clan who calls her ‘adorable.’ So instead Shiki softens her voice and tries to sound appropriately pleading as she ducks her head. “I know Kento-ojichan has a mission in the village over to the east, and it’s been so long since I’ve last seen him.”

Something else that also helps her case: Shiki never tends to ask for much. Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san share a quick glance with each other, full of resignation.

“You’re the one telling this to Daisaku-sama,” is all Kiyohira-sensei says.

“… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m always the one reporting things to Daisaku-sama.”

The first sign of something wrong is the fire. 

An unnatural fire –one that burns a brilliant green, and releases no smoke. Kiyohira-sensei stiffens from the passenger’s seat in the car the moment a towering column of flames blaze up ahead from the direction they’re heading in, then promptly barks at Yajima-san to floor the gas pedal.

Their pale-faced driver, Yajima-san, does so immediately. It’s lucky that Jihei-san is sitting beside her and has the good sense to grab Shiki so that she doesn’t get thrown from her seat with the sudden acceleration. But even so, she can feel her heart leaping into her throat, and she knows that it has nothing to do with the car.

Kento-ojichan?

“No fu– … There’s no way that’s a Grade Two curse,” Kiyohira-sensei murmurs with a heavy scowl. “Jihei, look sharp. That’s a Grade One.”

“Ah…” The other man cranes his neck, looking out the window, “I think you may be right about that.”

Kento-ojichan. Grade One.

Is Kento-ojichan alright?

As soon as they reach the outskirts of the village, Kiyohira-sensei slams open the car door and disappears in a blur, his movements augmented and reinforced by cursed energy. 

“Go find the villagers and help them evacuate,” Jihei-san opens his door much more sedately. He smiles reassuringly at Yajima-san, despite the distinct coldness to his next words. “Get in contact with the Window responsible for overlooking this mission, if they’re still alive. Report the situation.”

“U-understood, Jihei-sama.”

“Good. Now go do your job.”

“Hai!”

The man nods and turns back towards Shiki, “Please excuse me.”

Jihei-san crouches down in a smooth, fluid motion, and stands up carrying her in his arms. Shiki does not fight the motion –the older sorcerer is much stronger and faster than she is– and the world blurs around them as Jihei-san bursts into movement, following the direction Kiyohira-sensei had taken off in.

Kento-ojichan. How is he? Kiyohira-sensei mentioned a Grade One curse–

“Jihei! Left!”

Shiki clutches the edge of Jihei-san’s collar when the man suddenly makes a hard left, one arm still clamped firmly around her body. There’s a burst of searing heat behind her, and there’s no doubt in Shiki’s mind that it’s the unnatural green flame that they’d spotted earlier.

The girl closes her eyes. Briefly, and only for a moment. 

When she opens them again, the world around her is covered in jagged red lines once more. 

“Apologies, Shiki-sama,” Jihei-san’s voice above her is thin, tight. Brown eyes flick down in obvious concern, before swiftly snapping back to their surroundings. “… It seems that Kiyohira has things under control for the moment. We should–”

The man hastily cuts off his own words as something is roughly hurled in their direction. Shiki’s unthinking reaction towards seeing a projectile coming at her is to cut, but Jihei-san immediately shifts so that Shiki is shielded behind his body. His other arm snaps out and he–

–catches it.

“Careful there, Nanami-kun,” Jihei-san greets good-naturedly. “I’m glad to see you well. Now, what can you tell us about the current situation?”

Kento-ojichan. It’s… it’s Kento-ojichan! Shiki had nearly just– if it weren’t for Jihei-san would she have just–?!

A warm hand suddenly comes up to rest quietly behind her back. Steady, comforting. The little girl does her best to reel in her wayward thoughts; with the threat of a rampaging Grade One curse before them, this wasn’t the time to afford any distractions.

(Control, control, control. You almost just–!)

Jihei-san does not look towards her and Shiki makes no outward indication of having noticed his silent gesture. Instead, she focuses her attention on Kento-jichan.

“Shiki?!”  

It’s not often that her uncle loses his composure like this, but there’s no humor to be found in his gaping expression at this moment. Incredulous shock, utter disbelief. 

The blond teen quickly regathers himself, whirling on Jihei-san. “What is she doing here? Why did you bring her here?! That’s not–”

“This isn’t the time for this,” Jihei-san interjects. Slightly clipped, but not unkind. “Nanami-kun. What is the current situation?”

Kento-jichan grits his teeth, looking away to the side. “… A mistake. The mission was misranked. That thing, it’s… it’s not just a cursed spirit, it’s a god of the land. The local faith empowered it. But no one realized that until it was too late–!”

“I see,” the older man frowns. “Where are your other classmates? This isn’t a solo mission, is it?”

“… It got Haibara.”

“Ah… apologies, then. You have my condolences.”

Kento-ojichan jerks and shakes his head roughly. Shiki wants to reach out to him. “No, he’s not dead yet. He’s not. If we can just–”

“Give up on that boy,” a rough voice breaks in, brooking no room for argument. “All that’s left is a charred corpse, and that’s not worth taking unnecessary risks for.”

Kento-ojichan flinches. Shiki openly frowns.

“Kiyohira-sensei.” Her tone is faintly accusing and clearly unhappy… not that it seems to have any effect on her teacher. Her faintly-singed teacher, who turns away with a heavy sigh and makes eye contact with Jihei-san.

“We need to leave,” he says without preamble. “I trapped it in a temporary barrier, but it’s not going to hold for long. None of my attacks are doing anything more than slowing it down; its regeneration is downright ridiculous. It almost reminds me of a nature spirit, but that’s not exactly–”

“Nanami-kun says that it’s a local god of the land.”

Kiyohira-sensei pauses. “… I suppose that would explain it. But if that’s the case, then I doubt we’d be able to wear it down in any meaningful manner, so long as it’s in an advantageous terrain… such as the birthplace where it’s worshiped. We need to–”

There is a deafening boom that drowns out the sound of Kiyohira-sensei’s words, accompanied by a sudden surge of dry, scorching heat. The world shakes around them, cast in an eerie green glow.

And Shiki finally sees it. The cursed spirit –the god.

It’s a towering behemoth, vaguely deer-like despite its massive size. Wicked black antlers curl up and backwards above its skull. And its head is, quite literally, a skull –one with spots of emerald flames dancing in its eye sockets in place of actual eyes. Dark fur covers the entire length of its body, coated in burning flames.

TRESPASSERS.

Brilliant green flames race across the ground surrounding them in a wide circle over the grass. Kiyohira-sensei immediately moves in front of the group in a defensive gesture, hand raised to the hilt of his blade. 

WRETCHED WORMS.

Shiki’s ears are ringing. She’s never encountered a cursed spirit –a cursed god?– like this before. There’s an ominous weight to its very presence, and its words… its words are more of a garbled scream than actual words, grating on the ears, and yet somehow she can still understand what it’s saying perfectly, despite the wrongness of it all.

LOATHSOME BLIGHTS.

The corrupted god’s words coil through her mind, sick and cloying. Heavy and crushing. Suffocating. But none of this stops her from noticing the presence of distinctly forest-green lines flickering and twisting through the air with every mind-rattling echo of the god’s words, and so Shiki turns in Jihei-san’s arms to draw her own blade.

It’s a short tanto –which might as well be a regular blade, in Shiki’s child-sized hands. Not quite a cursed tool, but nonetheless a weapon crafted with the intent of being able to withstand cursed energy. This is the blade that Shiki had been presented with, the day that she’d stepped outside the clan compound on her first mission.

Shiki slashes her short sword through the air, cleanly cutting through the green swirls. Almost immediately, the heavy weight blanketing the air eases, and she can hear Jihei-san audibly sucking in a startled breath behind her ear.

“Did you just–?”

“Shiki.” Kiyohira-sensei’s voice is low and terse, but no less sharp. “Can you still see the lines?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then I want you to–”

RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. The massive creature rears back, and it’s–

It’s–

… awful.

The cursed god rears back on its hind legs, revealing its underbelly. Its open underbelly, filled with corpses. Human corpses. Dozens upon dozens, at the very least; too many to count at a glance. All of them are charred and mutilated beyond repair, and–

Kento-ojichan suddenly jerks forward and makes a choked sound, only held back by Jihei-san’s hand clamping down on him before he can run headlong into danger– 

“Haibara!”

… Oh.

ACCEPT YOUR JUDGMENT, PITIFUL HERETICS.

The skull-head snaps forward, the cursed good releasing a veritable flood of flames from its mouth towards them.

“Jihei, get the kids!” Kiyohira-sensei barks out, “I’ll clear a path for you!”

Without further fanfare, the man draws his sword. There is a wave of cursed energy that slams through the air the moment he unsheaths the blade, one that even lowers the circle of flames surrounding them by a good several inches.

But–

RESISTANCE. IS. FUTILE.

The wall of flames leap higher and higher, blazing in tandem with the cursed god’s rage.

“I hope you have a Plan B?” Jihei-san asks lightly. 

Kiyohira-sensei doesn’t quite roll his eyes, but Shiki gets the sense that it’s a near thing. “Plan B: Protect the kids and hold out until reinforcements are here. Even if both of us die in the process.”

The little girl startles. What?

Jihei-san laughs, “Certainly, Kiyohira-san. Nanami-kun, would you mind…?”

This entire time, Jihei-san has been carrying Shiki in his arms. Shiki is faintly bewildered as he turns and presses her into Kento-ojichan’s arms. At any other time, she would be happy. But… 

It’s strange. She knows that Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san are both Special Grade One sorcerers, tasked with protecting her. But it’s one thing to know this, and another to just… watch Jihei-san nod in acceptance and turn around with an easy smile towards what is almost certain doom. Watch Kiyohira-sensei interpose himself between them and the cursed god unhesitatingly.

… But that’s a Grade One curse, isn’t it? And Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san are both Special Grade Ones, so by convention this would mean that they are more than capable of handling any Grade One curses on their own. 

But there are always exceptions. Nothing is certain. Hadn’t this originally been assessed as a Grade Two curse, to begin with? That was why Kento-ojichan had been sent here in the first place, even though it clearly turned out not to be the case. 

… 

… It’s not as if they lack strength. Kiyohira-sensei is both swift and agile in his movements as he dances around the fiery god-curse, the sword in his hands easily carving through its form –to no avail. The curse roars, a deafening sound, and the deep gouges slashed into its flanks immediately seal up in a burst of flickering green flames. 

Jihei-san is armed with a blade, too, but unlike Kiyohira-sensei, there are visible streams of water trailing behind him, glittering beneath the unnatural firelight. The water is likely the result of his cursed technique. It’s a good counter against the curse’s flames, and Jihei-san’s water allows him to defend Kiyohira-sensei as the man pushes forward–

But will it be enough?

Shiki knows that Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san are strong. But Satoru-oniichan was stronger, and… against the Sorcerer Killer… it still hadn’t been enough.

The curse stomps down. Green cracks spread through the ground, crevices filled with green flames, flaring high –including the ground beneath Shiki’s feet. Kento-ojichan yanks her towards himself and the two stumble backwards together–

A massive arm wreathed in flames, headed straight in the direction they’d stumbled in–

Shiki ducks under Kento-ojichan’s grip without thinking, pulling out her tanto, and slashes outwards and up along those gleaming lines, heedless of her uncle’s strained shout.

Not him. Not Kento-ojichan!

Warm hands seize her shoulders, and Kento-ojichan spins her around. His eyes rake over her body, obviously looking for any signs of injury, slowly relaxing only once it is clear that there is nothing to be found.

And of course there wouldn’t be, not with a technique powered solely by cursed energy as these green flames were. Regular fire would’ve stood a better chance of burning her.

WHAT TRICKERY IS THIS?

The cursed god rears back, withdrawing its arm. There is a deep cut along the length of its unnervingly human-like forearm, tipped in vicious talons, filled with writhing green flames–

–and not healing.

Something finally clicks in Shiki’s mind at the sight. Realization. It makes her feel like an utter fool in hindsight. True, the curse had been capable of regenerating from any and every attack from Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san earlier, but… unlike the older sorcerers, it’s not just the physical body that Shiki strikes at, when she cuts the lines. Because more than just fragility, the lines are–

Beginning and end. Open and close.

Shiki quietly looks upon the towering form of the cursed god in a new light. 

The cursed god who is covered in gleaming red lines.

“You are unharmed?” Kiyohira-sensei lands heavily beside her, panting slightly. Sweat glistens on his brow, and the rise and fall of his chest is obvious. Red lines curl across his body, and Shiki tries not to let her gaze linger on them for too long. “Good. Just now, that was… your technique? You can disable its regeneration?”

To the side, Kento-ojichan stiffens, then physically interjects himself between them. “What are you implying?! Are you asking her to fight?”

Kiyohira-sensei ignores the boy, his gaze focused intently on the little girl instead. “If Jihei and I can get you close enough to the curse, then can you–?”

“I can kill it.”

The words are calm, matter-of-fact. Truth. 

Kiyohira-sensei pauses for a moment and nods, but Kento-ojichan whirls around on her, crouching down so that they’re level with each other.

“Shiki, what are you–?”

Kento-ojichan is worried. Of course he is. He’d been worried over Shiki fighting Grade Four curses on her own, never mind an unusual Grade One as this cursed god is. He wants her to be safe.

Shiki wants Kento-ojichan to be safe, too.

“Don’t do this,” he says. Something in his voice cracks with a note of grief, “I… I can’t lose you, too.”

The little girl smiles, reaching up and gently patting her beloved uncle’s cheek. “It’ll be alright, Ken-jichan. I’ll be fine.”

The young man opens his mouth in automatic protest –but suddenly freezes, for some reason. He stares at her like she’s a stranger.

(Don’t look at me like that.)

“… Shiki?”

… She’s not scared. By all means, she should be downright terrified at a time like this, but right now Shiki is feeling… oddly light. 

For some reason, she doesn’t really feel much of anything at all.

Something finally settles inside her, and she turns away from her uncle. “Kiyohira-sensei. Help me?”

“Of course.”

Her teacher effortlessly picks her up with a single arm, and they turn towards where Jihei-san is single handedly holding off the curse on his own.

I AM BORN OF THIS LAND, the curse declares, as Kiyohira-sensei leaps into the air. Almost immediately, they are hit with a barrage of flames; the curse seems to be warier, now. The long gash on its arm remains unhealed, bleeding tongues of green flames into the open air. I AM OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THE FIELDS. THE FIERCE LIGHT OF THE MIDDAY SUN. THE GLORIOUS SUMMER FLAME. 

“Kiyohira-san?!” Jihei-san blinks when the older man charges past him without pausing, Shiki in tow. To his credit, the man only blanches for a moment, before swiftly regathering himself. “Why are you– Shiki–?!”

“Cover us.”

MORTALS ARE FLEETING, BUT I REMAIN ETERNAL.

Jihei-san curses under his breath, then hastens his steps to catch up with them. He flicks his wrist, pale blade glowing with a controlled pulse of cursed energy, and a disc of water rises as a shield to meet another gout of flames. 

“Shiki can kill it,” Kiyohira-sensei says succinctly. “We’re going to get her close enough to do so.”

Jihei-san spins around and stares at her, wide-eyed, before he abruptly has to scramble back to suppress another burst of flames.

YOU CANNOT KILL ME.

“That’s a big risk you’re taking, Kiyohira-san,” Jihei-san manages to get out.

“It’s our only option,” her teacher shakes his head. “With the regeneration and the terrain advantage, this might as well be a Special Grade in terms of its resilience. At this rate, both of us are going to run out of cursed energy before any reinforcements arrive.”

“But how can you–”

A massive arm comes down to crush them, blotting out the sun. Jihei-san jerks and prepares to swing his sword again, but before he can do so–

Shiki twists, and uses Kiyohira-sensei’s shoulder as a footrest to launch herself upwards into the air. She ignores Jihei-san’s startled shout, concentrating on the lines…

And cuts.

The cursed fire does not burn her; the technique is forcibly terminated before it even has a chance to touch her, as myriad lines swiftly break apart beneath the tip of her tanto. And Shiki continues to cut, through the flames and into the very flesh of the cursed god’s body.

Kiyohira-sensei catches her again when her momentum finally breaks and she falls, amidst the throes of the cursed god’s deafening screams, a meaningless refrain.

YOU CANNOT KILL ME.

Its entire arm is gone. And it doesn’t regenerate.

Shiki glances back towards Jihei-san, her meaning obvious. Is that proof enough for you?

Jihei-san breathes out shakily, a low exhale. “I… alright. Alright. Daisaku-sama is going to kill us when we get back, assuming we’ll both live through this.”

Kiyohira-sensei snorts, “I believe we agreed earlier that you would be the one reporting to Daisaku-sama?”

“… Fuck y–”

“Language!”

Even despite the banter, neither of the men’s movements slow down. With a clear goal in mind, one that does not require them to whittle away at a curse capable of recovering from any damage they deal to it, they are quick to cut a swathe through the flames, directly to the cursed god.

YOU CANNOT KILL ME.

The flames concentrated on them blaze and roar in time to the cursed god’s eldritch screams, a clear sign of growing agitation as they arrive at their goal.

Close enough.

Shiki readies herself, and leaps into the air once more in a burst of cursed energy.

“Don’t die,” she thinks she hears Kiyohira-sensei whisper, but it might be a trick of the wind.

YOU CANNOT KILL ME.

YOU CANNOT KILL ME.

STOP.

Shiki does not stop.

Instead, she spins and deftly slashes down through the last wall of flames that suddenly leaps up point-blank in front of her. The little girl lands directly atop the cursed spirit’s skull.

ACCURSED CHILD. The reverberations vibrate through her body, rattling her bones. But Shiki does not stumble, does not falter in the least. YOU DARE? I AM A GOD!

“You are,” she agrees, “But even gods can die.”

Shiki swings her sword.

Chapter Text

Nanami Kento was six years old when his older sister met Gojo Arata. 

Their parents had both died when they were young. The siblings had been left in the care of their grandparents shortly thereafter, and while their grandparents had been kind while they lived, they were oftentimes… forgetful. Which in turn meant that Nanami Shizuka, being a good decade Kento’s senior, naturally took it upon herself to shoulder many of the responsibilities that one might expect of a caretaker or a mother-figure instead.

Some days, Kento looks back on it all and wonders if Shizuka had married at such a shockingly young age so that there would finally be someone to take care of her, too.

… Thankfully, Gojo Arata was not a bad man. With him, his sister had been… happy.

Arata and Shizuka’s meeting had been the result of a chance encounter, albeit not a particularly unique one. Sorcerers save civilians from curses all the time, every day, without anyone being the wiser. While Gojo Arata wasn’t technically a sorcerer himself, the man had grown up in a sorcerer’s clan… and his blurry eyesight meant that he’d managed to spot a suspiciously dark cloud hovering on an open balcony, and hastily pulled a pretty young girl back from walking underneath it just in time.

A flower pot had dropped down right in front of Shizuka, skimming her nose, shattering in a jagged mess on the sidewalk pavement. If Arata had been a second slower, it would’ve struck her head.

Kento would never forget the furious screech of that hideous spider-like curse, that chittering cacophony of screams and jeers that made his hair stand on end. 

And that had been Nanami Kento’s ‘introduction’ to the jujutsu world. 

… Fairly tame, as far as these kinds of introductions are concerned. Arata had been quick to pull them away from the scene after that, and it hadn’t taken long before there were Windows on the scene. The team of sharply-dressed men and women in business suits had set to work without a word, swiftly pulling down a Curtain and cordoning off the entire street with well-practiced efficiency.

Arata, having noticed that Kento was able to see the curse earlier, patiently took the time to explain things to the pair of siblings in the aftermath. Cursed spirits are responsible for the vast majority of unexplained cases of death and disappearances throughout the world.

Despite the severity of the topic, he and Shizuka had gotten along well. He had been impressed by Shizuka’s composure and her determination to do right by her little brother, and Shizuka had been won over by the man’s meticulousness and quiet concern even for mere strangers. And he had saved her. They’d exchanged contact information in the event that any other incidents came up, one thing led to another, and…

The rest was history, so to speak.

When Nanami Kento turned seven years old, his new brother-in-law quietly took him aside and told him that the world of curses was dangerous. That the decision to become a sorcerer was not one to make lightly. Even if Kento intended to become a sorcerer in the future, that would be a decision for him to make once he was older and aware of the consequences.

Nanami Shiki is seven this year.

… Shiki is seven years old, and she’d just killed a Grade One curse. 

Kento wants to scream. 

Unlike when he’d only been seven years old, Kento is aware of what a sorcerer’s work entails, now. And he’d known that Shiki’s newly-developed cursed eyes were a point of interest for the Gojo Clan, that this would mean she’d have no choice but to become a sorcerer in the future, but somehow he still hadn’t thought– he hadn’t expected–

When did this happen? How? Even though the Gojo Clan had already been training her in a sorcerer’s skills… some part of him had foolishly thought that this day would come sometime in the distant future. It was only inevitable, given her cursed technique –her eyes– but he had hoped that there would be more time. If Kento could graduate and make a name for himself as a well-established sorcerer, then he would be able to make a case for Shiki’s custody. He would support her and help her if she decided to be a sorcerer for herself once she was older, but–

But right now, Shiki is a seven year old child. And the Gojo Clan saw nothing wrong with sending her out to kill curses.

Part of Kento will always remember Shiki as she was before the unfortunate incident that had claimed the lives of both Nanami Shizuka and Nanami Arata. His dear sister and brother-in-law. Her parents. Shiki had always been a quiet girl even long before this accident, but she’d also been a sweet, caring girl. Ojichan, ojichan, she’d call him, tugging at his sleeve. Ken-jichan. Play with me?

… What did the Gojo Clan do to her, to turn her into someone who wouldn’t bat an eye at killing a cursed god?

…

Kento still recalls the day when she was born. He recalls sitting in a sterile hallway, hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles were white. His ears had been filled with the sound of Arata’s restless pacing back and forth. Shizuka had been screaming, and–

It had been a difficult birth. The doctors had nearly proclaimed Shiki to be stillborn, even.

They’d been so careful taking care of that delicate, frail child in those early days. The girl had resembled less a newborn infant and more a lifeless doll in her cradle. Arata had tirelessly sought out doctor after doctor in one hospital after another. Shizuka had grown increasingly desperate, even resorting to visiting temples daily to fervently pray for her daughter– 

Thankfully, Shiki’s health had eventually taken a turn for the better. They’d all breathed in relief. Kento had been so glad to finally see a rosy flush of color enter her cheeks. And then the little child learned to sit up, to crawl, to smile and laugh, and… and… 

And Kento doesn’t know what to do anymore.  

Shizuka and Arata are both dead. Finances had been tight and they’d been out looking for a new apartment, and… no one could have suspected that the entire building would collapse in on itself so suddenly, without any warning whatsoever. The leasing office had gone under from lawsuits. Windows were sent in to look for traces of foul play from curses in the aftermath, and miracle of miracles –Shiki had been dug out of the rubble bloody and unconscious.

But alive.

… Even though she’d proceeded to remain unconscious for an entire year afterwards. Unconscious, but alive, and Kento clung to that thread of hope with all his might.

Then, one day Shiki woke up again.

With cursed eyes.

… And everything started spiraling out of control from there.

Kento knows that his niece has a good head on her shoulders, despite her young age. He knows that she’s awakened a powerful cursed technique. He knows that she’d just killed a cursed god.

But even so, every time Kento looks at Shiki he cannot help but recall the image of that too-pale, too-thin little girl sleeping in a hospital bed. It haunts him –terrifies him. 

With both his sister and his brother-in-law gone, it’s up to Kento to take care of her now, and… it’s a monumental task that he’s been failing quite miserably so far. If it weren’t for Gojo Satoru being his upperclassman at Jujutsu High, Kento doubts that he even would’ve found Shiki, not until another several good months down the line, and…

He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Kento wants to protect her, but… what can he possibly do, against the uncompromising power and influence of the Gojo Clan? And even discounting that, when that cursed god had attacked them, it had been Shiki who’d neutralized its cursed technique. 

It had been Shiki who’d smiled softly at him and said, “It’ll be alright, Ken-jichan,” and it had nearly broken his heart.

Shiki had turned away from him.

Then proceeded to kill a god.

… A god. His little niece had just –she’d just gone and killed a cursed god, a Grade One cursed spirit! Kento wasn’t blind to the implications, of how the Gojo Clan would react to learning this, of what they would do–

Kento sucks in a deep, shuddering breath. He feels lightheaded. Dizzy.

“Are you alright?”

“I…”

No. He’s not. Haibara is dead, and Shiki… Kento doesn’t know what to do about Shiki anymore. He wants her to be safe, but there’s no way that she’ll remain safe, not after all of this. Not after she so effortlessly killed a Grade One curse, and he shudders to think what that would mean for her future.

Kento is aware of the types of missions that Gojo and Geto are sent on, as the school’s only Special Grades. And at this rate, it’s only a matter of time before Shiki is forced to follow in their footsteps.

He recalls once thinking, in an uncharitable moment of frustration, Why can’t we just leave everything to them from now on?

The mental image of confident, unstoppable Gojo Satoru is suddenly replaced by Shiki. Calm and serene, with empty eyes that look out upon the world only to envision nothing but death.

… Suddenly, it’s hard to swallow. To even breathe.

“Hey. Hey! Nanami, stay with me,” Geto's voice sounds sharply next to his ear. “Are you… how are you feeling right now? Do I need to call Shoko?”

Kento shakes his head roughly. Nausea churns inside his stomach, stinging, and something burns in the back of his throat.

Between the Gojo Clan and the curses, it feels like he’s losing Shiki, no matter how hard he tries to hold on to her. Because it’s not enough, Kento finally realizes this now, and it’s… terrifying. It’s terrifying, what the Gojo Clan is turning her into.

Nanami Kento is terrified that one day he’ll look at Shiki and find her to be completely, utterly unrecognizable.

What am I going to do?

.

.

Suguru keeps a careful hand on his pale-faced underclassman’s back, watching the younger teenager carefully. Nanami is slowly getting his breath under control again and it doesn’t look like he’s about to hurl anymore, but there’s no denying that haggard air about him. He looks gaunt. Tired.

Considering the absolute clusterfuck that was his last mission… Suguru isn’t surprised.

The teenager clenches his jaw, carefully working to tamp down on his anger. Frustration burns inside him, at seeing his underclassman like this. Suguru has never seen Nanami look so defeated, and he… 

… He’d never thought that one day, he would be the one carefully pulling a white sheet over the mutilated corpse of one of his fellow students, either. 

Haibara is dead.

Haibara. Dead. The two words do not compute together, because Haibara is bright and cheerful and forever upbeat. Forever smiling. Nothing could ever put him down for long. 

Seeing him so cold and still in death is… it’s… 

Wrong. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. This is all wrong. Everything is wrong.

If Nanami’s niece hadn’t spontaneously decided to drop in on Nanami’s mission…then would Suguru be left staring at two corpses, instead of one?

He doesn’t even want to think about it.

…

Ever since the failed mission with Amanai Riko… Suguru hasn’t been able to get it out of his mind. Not the Sorcerer Killer, but the humans , those people from the Time Vessel Association who’d hired a killer to murder a young schoolgirl. For some reason, Suguru’s mind keeps looping back to the scene he’d walked in on in that warehouse. 

Satoru clutching Amanai’s bloody corpse in his arms, with a blank, distant expression on his face. And, all around him, incessant applause.

They’d been smiling, Suguru recalls. Clapping. Because Amanai was dead, just like they’d wanted.

… Geto Suguru had always known that humans were imperfect. Bravery and cowardice, kindness and cruelty. You can’t pick and choose what to save, because that’s not how it works. A sorcerer fully dedicates themselves towards the noble cause of saving other lives. That’s all.

The reason why jujutsu exists in the first place is to protect those who cannot use jujutsu. It is the duty of the strong to protect and shelter the weak.

And yet… 

(Laughter. Applause. That damned applause–!)

Don’t falter, he thinks to himself. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you chose to become a sorcerer, Suguru.

Exorcise, and ingest.

Exorcise, and ingest.

Exorcise, and ingest–

He recalls his recent conversation with Tsukumo, the only other Special Grade Sorcerer aside from him and Satoru. Suguru had confessed his thoughts to the woman. How it had felt that the worth of other humans, non-sorcerers, was shaky. Tremulous.

The preciousness of the weak, and the ugliness of the weak. He could neither bring himself to accept it, nor reject it.

… Part of his mind screams at him that it’s wrong, that he’s even hesitating over this at all. Life is precious. Life is precious, and so it should be protected. End of story. What is there for him to hesitate over?

(Applause, laughter, applause, laughter–)

The peace of the masses is built on the pain and blood of sorcerers. 

… And Haibara’s corpse had just been added to the pile. That’s–

“Ken-jichan? Ken-jichan, are you–?” 

Suguru startles, abruptly shaken out of his heavy thoughts by the sudden, unexpected sound of a childish voice. Blue eyes blink back at him, dark and abyssal. It’s difficult to read emotion in cursed eyes, but Suguru has been around Satoru long enough to be familiar with reading subtle signs in facial expressions and body language; it’s easy to pick up on the obvious surprise in little Shiki.

“Ah… hello, Geto-san,” the young girl greets politely, complete with a short bow. 

“Hello there yourself, Shiki-chan.” It never fails to be a little disconcerting –Shiki’s appearance is, quite literally, a miniaturized female version of Gojo Satoru. However, the two are also completely different in terms of their demeanors, hilariously enough. 

After all, Satoru would never be caught with such a hesitant, quiet look on his face like the one that Shiki is currently portraying. The little girl bites her lip, glancing towards Nanami and–

Oh.

… That’s right. Shiki had dropped in on Nanami’s mission, and was also likely the only reason why Nanami came back alive at all. If the reports were true, she was the one who’d ultimately exorcised the cursed spirit in the end.

Suguru has no trouble believing that. This is the same girl that he and Satoru had found sitting in a pool of blood, holding a fucking decapitated head in her arms. 

And what was it all for?

… Gojo Shiki is training to become a sorcerer, so she can one day take missions on her own and exorcise curses. Just like him and Satoru. But that’s… 

That’s wrong. It’s wrong, how can anyone not see it? The little girl is literally seven years old, and her clan is raising her to fight curses–!

And what was it all for?!

(Applause, laughter, applAUse, LauGhtER–)

At least Suguru had a choice, back when he made the decision to come to Jujutsu High. 

Looking at Shiki like this… the little girl doesn’t appear to be bothered in the least. Her expression is soft and concerned, but it’s clear that she’s concerned for Nanami and not herself. She’s… she’s acting like there’s nothing wrong, and perhaps that’s the most disturbing thing about it all. Even Satoru hadn’t indicated that there was anything wrong with her situation, but–

Suguru is abruptly hit with the unpleasant reminder that the way Shiki is currently being treated by the Gojo Clan is probably a direct reflection of Satoru’s own childhood.

… He’s going to be sick.

…

Exorcism is an endless marathon. There is no finish line, and only one direction forward.

The path is paved in blood and lined with corpses.

… 

… Something needs to change.

.

.

Gojo Daisaku had known that change was coming for a long time now, ever since the day Gojo Satoru was born.

Six Eyes. Limitless.

And Satoru certainly had not disappointed the myriad hopes placed upon him. The boy had swiftly proved himself to be a genius, a prodigy. He’d excelled in all of his lessons, and Muneyoshi had been so proud of his son, back in those days. The perfect heir, destined to lead the Gojo Clan forward into a new age and to ever-greater heights–

But that was before Satoru developed an, ah… rebellious streak, to put it mildly.

… That was fine. Every child goes through their rebellious stage at some point. Only time would tell if this rebellious streak was temporary, or something that Satoru would carry through to the bitter end. Daisaku looked forward to seeing what his ultimate decision would be.

This did not mean that rebelliousness was a trait he intended to nurture in little Shiki, however. 

(One Gojo Satoru was already more than enough.)

Unlike Satoru, Shiki had come as a completely unexpected surprise. Not unwelcome, by any means, but certainly unexpected.

A new ocular curse; now that was a rare occurrence. The last recorded instance of a new ocular curse surfacing in the clan’s history dated back into the Muromachi Period some six hundred years ago. It had been a young man with eyes that allowed him to read the ‘history’ of cursed objects, similar to psychometry, in modern terms. This particular ability had been extremely useful for the clan’s historical records and for cataloging unknown cursed tools, as well as some minor detective work.

The man in question had been a son of the main family. Retracing his family tree had yielded interesting results on the matrilineal side, however. His maternal grandmother had been a daughter from a branch family. A branch family that, after many struggles throughout the years, had eventually succeeded in distinguishing itself as a proper branch house and bestowed the name Tobiume.

There was a certain serendipity in the same bloodline once again manifesting a new ocular curse for the clan. 

Perhaps it was time to arrange for a few Tobiume girls to be assiduously courted by children from the main family? Gojo Ima, mayhaps? Ima was still young and of suitable child-bearing age. A docile woman who obediently deferred to her superiors, and was capable of holding her tongue. 

Granted, Ima had made several mistakes while caring for her own niece, but Daisaku was not entirely without pity. After all, those mistakes had been made due to the girl’s overly-hasty desire to see her branch of the family rise to prominence once more. So if she was stripped of her status as branch head and relegated to a housewife position that suited her more, then, perhaps… 

…

… Bah, look at him, plotting and planning away like this! Daisaku shakes his head and straightens back in his seat with a sigh.

No. Interfering like this is unnecessary, he reminds himself. The most he’ll do is make an offhand suggestion on this matter, and leave it at that. An old fossil like him should learn to sit back and take on a guiding role, rather than continuing to dictate things. Let the children make their own decisions, and learn from their own mistakes. That’s what it means to nurture the next generation.

Although, it would be a while yet before Shiki could be properly trusted to make her own decisions… this was nothing against the girl herself, of course. Merely that she was still young, only seven years old, and thus required competent oversight. 

Admittedly, little Shiki seemed to require less direct oversight than most. 

Frankly speaking, there was no doubt that she was a clever one. Precocious and sharp, if of few words. She reminded him strongly of Satoru, when Satoru was young… and Daisaku sincerely hoped to avoid falling over the same mistakes they’d made with Satoru in regards to Shiki this time around.

For example: They hadn’t initially thought that Satoru’s detached attitude would be a problem. The boy was a genius, so it was perfectly understandable that he would have trouble relating to others his own age, right? And he was the clan heir. So, in light of that it was only natural for someone of his position to see himself as above others. It spoke to his status, his superiority. He was the honored one, blessed with Six Eyes and Limitless.

… They were all fools. Fools, the whole lot of them.

Muneyoshi was the only one who had spoken up about it at the time, but no one had listened to his concerns. And now they were all paying for it, years later down the line. Daisaku privately suspects that Satoru wouldn’t have any qualms with killing off any of his own elders, should it serve his own purposes. The boy held no sense of deference, of loyalty, of familial belonging –from all appearances, Satoru treated the Tokyo Jujutsu School like his home, rather than the Gojo Clan.

Was it any wonder that Gojo Satoru’s strength was the only thing his clansmen truly trusted about him?

Gojo Shiki would not turn out like her cousin, not if Daisaku had anything to say about it. After realizing that Ima was the wrong person to act as family in the aftermath of the fiasco with the Kamo Clan, he had immediately responded to the situation by assigning the child a new caretaker. Gojo Kiyohira was a bit blunt and rough around the edges, but overall a very straightforward person. Quite unlike Ima, in that respect. The man was also a sorcerer and a skilled swordsman, so he would be someone who could advise Shiki in the future.

And, most importantly, Kiyohira was loyal.

… Daisaku knows that the last student didn’t work out too well for the man. A pity, truly. That particular boy had been so talented, so eager to learn… and Kiyohira had been a little too indulgent of the child, perhaps. 

After all, the young boy had died on his first pseudo-mission to exorcise a Semi-Grade Three curse. Their watcher had attempted to intervene, but to no avail. According to the reports, the child had panicked and literally dropped his sword right in front of the curse.

There wasn’t really anything anyone could do about that, unfortunately.

Kiyohira had been highly reluctant to take on any students again after that incident. He’d grown stricter and harsher with the standards for his training, which had the inevitable result of scaring off any prospective disciples. And that was a shame, given his skills –the man wasn’t growing any younger, and it would be for the best that he passed down his teachings soon, to ensure that his skills would remain within the clan. 

There had been a bit of a rough start in the beginning with Shiki, but fortunately everything worked itself out in the end. It’s always satisfying when plans work out as intended.

And as for Shiki herself…

If there had ever been any doubts regarding her potential, well. With the recent incident, all dissenters had finally been summarily silenced for good.

Killing a cursed god was no small feat. Even if it was a Grade One, a land god like that was always stronger in their own territory –and in their place of worship, that would make the cursed god a borderline if not outright Special Grade. 

And Shiki had killed it, apparently without any effort. To have succeeded in such a difficult task at so young an age only spoke promising things of her future. 

She really is like Satoru, isn’t she?

Perhaps it was time to begin stepping up the intensity of her missions. Previously, Daisaku had been careful to only select missions to exorcise Grade Four curses and the like for her. Partially because of her young age and her inexperience, and partially to appease Kiyohira… but it had been made clear that she was ready for more. No, he would not hold the girl back from achieving her potential. 

It was entirely possible that the future of the Gojo Clan would depend on it someday, after all, depending on how future events played out with Satoru-kun.

At the moment, however, the more concerning issue would be the matter regarding the girl’s cursed technique. More specifically, the uncertainties surrounding it. Her innate technique… and her eyes. 

It was always good when a powerful new technique surfaced within the clan, but the tricky thing was figuring out the details. Unlike Limitless and the Six Eyes, which had the advantage of both being extensively documented with the experiences of multiple users throughout the clan’s history, Shiki’s ‘Fragility’ and her ‘Eyes of Severance’ were completely unknown… 

… Assuming those names were even accurate in the first place. Daisaku has his suspicions.

But there was no rush. Given the excitement of the last few days, it would be best for the little girl to have some time to herself, first. Spend a few afternoons with her young uncle, or play around with that fluffy cursed corpse doll she’d seemed to have developed a fondness for. 

There was plenty of time for them to figure out the particulars of her innate cursed technique in the future, and help her properly develop it. He’d never imagined that her abilities would allow her to ‘cut’ and neutralize other cursed techniques –this was certainly a promising new avenue of development. 

Daisaku has high hopes for Shiki. And with any luck, the clan wouldn’t fail her, not like they’d inadvertently failed Gojo Satoru.

… Unlike a good few of his fellow cranky old fossils, at least Daisaku is capable of learning from his mistakes. He does not intend to repeat them.

.

.

Some days, Jihei wonders if it was a mistake. If Shiki had been allowed to remain with her young uncle, instead of being forcibly brought into the clan’s fold… 

… no. No, with eyes like that, becoming a sorcerer was an inevitability. But at least she would’ve had some semblance of a regular childhood.

Yet instead of quietly making arrangements for her niece and bribing the doctors to remain silent, Ima had instead promptly brought Shiki to the attention of the clan’s elders. There really hadn’t been any room for turning back after that.

What a pity, he thinks. 

Arata would’ve hated it, he thinks. 

No child should be forced on the path of a sorcerer, he thinks. Even if they’re born with innate abilities that make them perfect for it. Even if they possess cursed blue eyes that set them apart from other mortals. 

Just look at how Gojo Satoru turned out.

What if Arata’s daughter went the same way? Given how things were currently proceeding, there’s no doubt that she was headed in the same direction.

As Daisaku-sama’s aide and assistant, Jihei is privy to most everything regarding Shiki’s day-to-day activities. Daisaku-sama is the one nominally in charge of her, after all. And what Jihei sees is… concerning.

Daisaku-sama, in his infinite wisdom –or passing insanity– had decided to assign Gojo Kiyohira as a caretaker. That lumbering mountain of a man couldn’t even take care of himself, and his track record in taking care of children… left much to be desired. Jihei didn’t know what was more concerning; that Kiyohira actually seemed to be performing well as Shiki’s teacher-caretaker, or that Shiki seemed to be perfectly fine living with someone like that. 

The kid knows that it’s not normal, right? It’s not normal to be woken up at the crack of dawn for rigorous training, and it’s not normal for a father-figure to bark at you like a drill sergeant. Under any other circumstances, Jihei would’ve suspected an abusive background being to blame, but he knows that Arata would never have done that to his daughter, which left only one remaining possibility:

There’s something not right about Shiki. Of that, Jihei is certain.

… Just as there had always been something distinctly not right about Satoru-sama as well. Jihei would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to miss the parallels between them. How there are voices within the clan staunchly insisting that their young ojou-sama is nothing like Satoru-sama is utterly beyond him. 

Jihei can only pray that Shiki would not grow into a second coming of the esteemed clan heir. He doesn’t think the Gojo Clan could survive two Gojo Satorus.

Given recent events, however, he suspects that those dissenting voices may have been permanently silenced.

Gojo Shiki had killed a Grade One cursed spirit. Granted, it had not been without assistance, but… the implications were staggering. And the expectations that the clan would have of the girl after this… 

… 

… Despite the wrongness, the unnatural oddities, the terrifying potential and talent that made his hair stand on end, Jihei didn’t… he didn’t dislike Shiki. How could he? She was Arata’s daughter. And for all the superficial similarities that she shared with Satoru-sama, Satoru-sama did not have a young uncle who loved him and who he loved in turn. Seeing Shiki genuinely care for someone like that never failed to put a corner of Jihei’s mind at ease, to make his heart soften and falter, and he… he… 

Fuck, how was he supposed to say ‘no’ to a face like that?

Jihei has a cat at home. His beloved Mi-chan is a small Turkish Angora with soft white fur and bright blue eyes. A young kitten that enjoyed sunning itself beneath the windowsill, that would paw gently at him and–

He coughs roughly.

“Something wrong?”

“N-not at all, Daisaku-sama,” Jihei immediately responds, inwardly sweating.

Gojo Shiki is not a cat. Obviously. Although her quietly pleased expression when she’s happy somehow bizarrely reminds Jihei of Mi-chan pouncing on her favorite fish strips… 

…

… Sometimes, Jihei wonders if Daisaku-sama knew what he was doing, when he’d arranged for Kiyohira and Jihei to be the ones accompanying Shiki on her preliminary missions. Kiyohira was an obvious choice; given the man’s history, it only made sense that he would want to keep a closer eye on his protégé after becoming attached. And as for Jihei… 

He might’ve grown apart from Arata as the years passed, but they’d still been friends, once upon a time. Maybe that was what Daisaku-sama had been banking on? … Who knows.

And Daisaku-sama… for all that Daisaku-sama claimed to have Shiki’s best interests at heart, only a fool would take him at his word. He was an elder of the Gojo Clan. And as his assistant, Jihei had a front-row seat to the old man’s machinations.

Relegating Shiki’s care to Kiyohira when things didn’t work out with Ima, for one. Taking advantage of the mess with the Kamo Clan to meet with several elders from the Kamo Clan, for another. Admittedly, it was unlikely that Daisaku-sama was the one who’d initially stirred the pot with the Kamo, but it hadn’t stopped him from capitalizing on it. Planning out Shiki’s lessons… 

And wasn’t it coincidental, how Shiki’s lessons ranged from swordplay to flower arrangement and just so happened to lack any details on internal politics? Recognizing and subverting social manipulations?

Subtly arranging Shiki’s meeting with Yuzuki-kun had been a gamble, but it was satisfying, when they’d ended up gravitating towards each other after Isao’s funeral. Yuzuki was a good kid, if rather antisocial due to his sickly constitution; like Shiki, he could also use a friend. Win-win.

Daisaku-sama had given him a side-eye for it after receiving reports of the two children reading in the garden together, but he relented in the end. Jihei cautiously breathed a sigh of relief. 

… It’s still too early to say how things will turn out in the future, but Jihei is optimistic. And… the clan already has Gojo Satoru. Isn’t that enough?

It would be nice if Arata’s daughter could be left to live a normal life as a regular girl. But between her sheer potential and her current circumstances, the renewed attention on Shiki in wake of her feat in killing a cursed god… 

Jihei can’t protect her. He knows this. He doesn’t have the strength, nor the influence. 

But for what it’s worth, he can certainly try, as best as he is able to. He owes Arata that much, at least.

.

.

Kiyohira’s life is filled with regrets. With endless mistakes, one after another, despite his best attempts. So when Daisaku-sama had come to him with another potential student, demanding that he try–

Kiyohira wonders who the hell thought he would make a good teacher. Who in their right mind would trust him with a child?!

… It’s a good thing that Jihei comes around as often as the other man does. He’s the one making all the arrangements for food and clothes, books and supplies –if it had been Kiyohira dealing with all of this by himself, he has no doubt that he would be constantly overlooking or forgetting things for Shiki.

Shiki, who… was clearly missing a few screws in her head.

… 

There’s nothing wrong with missing a few screws, though. And, it’s not like Kiyohira isn’t missing a few screws himself. 

… Fuck.

Why would anyone decide to toss him a child? Kiyohira is allergic to responsibility, and yet the heavens –thanks, Daisaku-sama– have somehow seen fit to give him a child to teach. To raise. How the fuck could anyone look at Kiyohira and go ‘Ah, yes, that man would be an excellent fit for nurturing new talents for the next generation?’

The man wants to cringe and smack his head into a wall every time he recalls how spectacularly he’d botched his initial meeting with Shiki.

… It hadn’t been entirely his fault. How could Kiyohira have possibly known that the elders would throw him an out-clan child to teach? One who hadn’t completed any of the requisite basic training beforehand, even? And Daisaku-sama knew his history –how could the old fossil have possibly thought that giving him a talented child blessed with a powerful innate technique wouldn’t be a recipe for disaster? 

Kiyohira groans.

It was a good thing that Shiki wasn’t one to hold grudges. To be perfectly honest, he still doesn’t think the girl had ever even realized how severely Kiyohira had messed up with her, how much he’d wronged her with his… with everything, gods. And wasn’t that a terrifying thought? That Kiyohira had nearly beaten her to death and she still couldn’t see anything wrong with it?

(Circulating cursed energy though the body was an elementary technique that all sorcerers learned, in order to strengthen their baseline physique. Their resilience. 

Shiki hadn’t known how to properly circulate her cursed energy, when she’d shown up on his doorstep. And Kiyohira had no pity for children who tried to pluck at his heartstrings by showing a little blood.

… Gods, what a mess.)

Much as it rankled him to admit it, it had been a good thing when Satoru-sama intervened. 

He still recalls the chill that had run down his spine, when the girl absently tugged at the clan heir’s sleeve, and commented so mildly, so unconcernedly– 

“Satoru-oniichan, please don’t kill Kiyohira-sensei. Jihei-san said that he’s the Gojo Clan’s best swordsman. I still need him to teach me kendo.”

That had been Kiyohira’s first inkling of something wrong about the girl’s mental state, and her own terrifying unawareness of it all. 

Foolishly, he hadn’t tried to do anything about it at the time. He’d convinced himself that he was imagining things. Made excuses and ignored it and continued overlooking it until he finally couldn’t. Until he’d become anxious over her growing closeness with Satoru-sama, and Kiyohira knew that he would never be able to live with himself if he allowed her to blindly follow in the clan heir’s footsteps.

He couldn’t let her become another Gojo Satoru. He couldn’t.

… But he might be too late already. Going by her recent performance against the cursed god, the way she’d easily volunteered herself to fight instead of run, then unhesitatingly drawn her sword–

My cursed technique makes it easy to kill, and I'm being trained on how to kill effectively.

It wasn’t hard.

Kiyohira has only ever had experience in guiding children to mentally steel their minds and prepare themselves to kill. He’s never had to scramble to stop them from killing. Considering his failure over the former, though… 

… Is it bad if he prefers Shiki to struggle in restraining her instinct to kill, rather than plucking up the nerve for it?

Arghh, he’s not cut out for this. Kiyohira is definitely not cut out for this teaching business –not for gentle-hearted, talented little boys, and not for prodigious little girls who were born killers. 

He’s not, he can’t–!

Teach me.

You’re… you’re my teacher, aren’t you?

…

Kiyohira sighs, a heavy sound, and finally straightens from where he’s slumped at the table.

The room is empty. Shiki had wandered out in search of her young uncle earlier in the morning, and would come back in time for dinner. There’s natto as a side dish today, and plenty of rice. She should be back early.

Aging floorboards creak noisily beneath his feet as he lumbers over to the doorway. Slowly, Kiyohira reaches out with a calloused hand and traces the deep grooves etched into the wooden frames.

2006 - 07 - 19

2006 - 10 - 21

His fingers dance upwards.

2007 - 02 - 08

2007 - 07 - 04

“Seven years old…” he mutters to himself. Kiyohira’s hand pauses at the last date, the most recent height marker that he’d made for the stress-inducing little girl under his care. Then he turns to the other side of the doorway, where there are a similar set of lines and corresponding dates etched into the wood.

2004 - 12 - 20

Kiyohira glances between the two lines, clicking his tongue disapprovingly at the clear discrepancy in height. Weren’t girls supposed to be taller than similarly-aged boys, in their younger years? Or is he misremembering something? … Fuck, he needs to check that child-raising book again, it’s been awhile.

(No one had ever warned him that he’d need to study child-raising books when the clan told him to teach kendo. Who would’ve thought?)

“Maybe I should ask the kitchens for another serving of natto,” he grumbles. Kids grow quicker when they eat more, right? “… Goddamnit, she needs to eat more than just rice and natto.”

.

.

The first time Gojo Satoru met Shiki was in the hospital, back when she’d first gone missing and Nanami kicked up a whole ruckus about it. 

Satoru didn’t understand.

“Imagine if Suguru suddenly dropped off the face of the earth one day and no one could find him,” was how Shoko had tried explaining it, her words a slow, even drawl. “Wouldn’t you be worried?”

“Nah,” Satoru had grinned, head tipping upwards as he precariously balanced back in his seat, “Suguru can take care of himself. He’d be back within the week. On the other hand, if it was Utahime who’d gone missing, then maybe we’d have to–”

“What are you implying? Show some respect for your seniors, you brat!”

He laughed. 

Yeah. Satoru didn’t get it at all.

But when he’d finally found Shiki in the hospital, it had been… hmm… 

… 

… how does he put this. A little weird, to be honest? This tiny slip of a little girl buried in the hospital bed sheets looked like she could be his sister, not Nanami’s niece. 

Satoru’s first thought upon seeing her had actually been something along the lines of, Wow, I never knew my dad kept a mistress on the side like the Kamo Clan Head. Who would’ve thought?

No wonder Nanami had done a double take and given him such a strange look, the first time they’d met each other. 

For the record, Gojo Satoru had never entertained any plans of picking up a kid and taking them under his wing. It just sorta… happened, with Shiki? She was an adorable kid, sorta like a mini marshmallow! And hey, Satoru wasn’t about to turn down a free little sister, even if it came hand in hand with death glares from Nanami.

Cute.

He’s not gonna lie, though. His initial interest in Shiki came entirely from her eyes… so in hindsight, it’s no surprise that Nanami was so suspicious. 

But that was only to be expected, wasn’t it? Shiki was literally the only other person in his clan –in the entire jujutsu world in this age, probably– who had cursed eyes.

Cursed eyes, like me. She’s like me!

Satoru was fascinated.

‘Eyes of Severance?’ Ha! More like Eyes of Death, really, going by the girl’s stumbling explanation of her abilities. Satoru had been able to follow along with it, though, and his eyes had picked up some very interesting tidbits while he’d been at it.

Unlike the Six Eyes, which took in and processed vast amounts of surrounding information, Shiki’s eyes were more like… the exact opposite. His little cousin’s eyes focused on one very specific thing in particular –or not even that. How had she put it again?

Ah, right. Emptiness, she’d called it, and Satoru can certainly see why.

Death. Mortality. 

Beginning and end. 

Shiki’s eyes allowed her to perceive the death of things. The elders had interpreted this as her being capable of observing the weak points where things were easily broken. And that was true enough, but it wasn’t the complete truth. They were still missing the picture. 

More than being able to see the imperfections inherent in everything around her, it would be more accurate to say that Shiki was actually visualizing its conceptual “end,” in every sense of the word –and bringing it forth into reality.

What a scary technique. 

It suits her so well! 

Satoru is definitely looking forward to the day when the girl finally gets a handle on her innate technique, just like him with his Limitless and Six Eyes. She would definitely be a force to be reckoned with –not to say that she wasn’t well on her way to it already.

Seven years old, and a Grade One curse under her belt. Satoru is proud. The rest of his clan, on the other hand, is divided between varying degrees of gleeful delight and sheer terror.

It’s actually kind of hilarious.

What’s also hilarious is that there’s even a debate going on in the clan over whether or not Shiki is like him. Because, duh? Isn’t it obvious?

They exist on similar wavelengths, the two of them. Shiki gets it. Really, for all that the girl was born outside the clan and had no contact with the jujutsu world prior to her little accident, there’s no denying that she still has the right mindset for it. Satoru has no doubt that she’s going to make a great sorcerer someday. 

Like him! 

He doesn’t have her killer’s instinct, but that’s okay. Shiki doesn’t quite grasp the detachedness that Satoru had been born with, either, and he’s not holding it against her.

Relating to other people is hard. Caring about them is hard. Understanding them is a pain in the ass. 

Being raised by the Gojo Clan hadn’t exactly helped things along on that end. Satoru didn't think he’d truly connected to anyone in his life until he’d come to Tokyo Jujutsu High, and even then, it had been hard. An exercise in frustration –but worth it, in the end.

Does Nanami even realize how lucky he is that his little niece loves him? She doesn’t even love Satoru!

… Of course, Satoru has no doubts that he’ll be able to get his adorable little cousin to love him someday, but it’s the principle of the thing here.

“Yo, Yaga-sensei!” He pokes his head into his teacher’s office. Yaga-sensei looks up with a frown –yeah, okay, it doesn’t look like he’s in the best mood right now. Maybe because Haibara was dead? And that was pretty unfortunate; Haibara was a good kid. Satoru had liked him. “How do you feel about having Shiki over for a playdate with Panda?”

Yaga-sensei twitches, “A what?”

“A playdate,” the white-haired teenager rocks back on his heels with an easy grin, “Y’know, letting kids play together. And doing, uh. Kid stuff.”

His teacher levels him with a suspicious look. “Your clan is alright with it?”

Satoru’s grin doesn’t falter. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“I received a message from Gojo Takatomi saying something along the lines of, ‘Keep your cursed corpse doll experiments away from the blessed child,’” Yaga-sensei says flatly, unimpressed.

“Takatomi has no say over what Shiki does or does not do. It’s Old Daisaku who’s in charge of her,” Satoru is equally unimpressed. The elders are back at it again already? Do they really have nothing better to do than scrutinize a seven year old kid’s playmates? Really? “And even if Daisaku is against it, it doesn’t matter. Shiki can play with whoever she wants.”

“Hm. I see.” After the scare with the last trial, Yaga-sensei has been understandably more cautious when it came to his dealings with the Gojo Clan. But if there’s one thing that Satoru can count on about his teacher– “Well, if Panda agrees to it, then I don’t see why not.”

–it’s that he’s secretly a big ol’ softie for kids, especially when it comes to his kids. Panda is lucky to have Yaga-sensei in his corner.

“Great!” Satoru claps his hands together. He doubts that Shiki is particularly bothered by that Grade One curse she’d killed, but she’s been a little… dispirited. Because of Nanami, obviously. Nanami was upset, and so Shiki was upset. 

How adorable.

What wasn’t so adorable was Shiki quietly asking Satoru if Nanami was upset at her.  

For what? Killing the Grade One curse?? Or… for arriving too late to save Haibara?

Satoru would tear his little kouhai a new one, if the latter was actually the case. Nanami didn’t seem like the ungrateful type, but if that wasn’t the reason, then… why in the world was he upset?

He’s alive, shouldn’t he be happy? Shouldn’t he be pleased that Shiki is proving capable of taking care of herself, that she’s growing stronger?

Satoru doesn’t get it.

Still, he’d suggested to Shiki to go on and find Nanami for a small chat to clear the air between them. 

If Nanami made her cry again, then he’d beat him up for her, he decided. Mentally, that is. His little cousin would probably pout if he informed her that he was planning to toss her uncle around with Limitless a few times, no matter how gently he would be with it.

… 

Shiki had seemed happy enough playing together with Panda the last time she’d been over at the school, so maybe the news of a playdate would cheer her up, even if her conversation with Nanami went sideways in the worst case scenario.

Satoru steps out of his teacher’s office and ambles off to look for his cute little cousin.

Chapter Text

It belatedly occurs to Shiki that killing a Grade One curse is somehow significant.  

… She doesn’t understand it. Shiki really, really doesn’t understand it at all. When the Gojo Clan had assessed her powers, they’d literally brought a Grade One curse right in front of her, to test if she could see its lines. She’d killed it, then, so… how was this anything new?

Ken-jichan might’ve called this particular Grade One a ‘cursed god,’ but that was only an empty title. A cursed god was still a curse, at the end of the day. It was a curse, and curses were meant to be killed. 

Had she done something wrong? She doesn’t think so… 

Besides, if Shiki hadn’t killed it… at the time, Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san’s techniques hadn’t been enough to overcome the cursed god’s regeneration. And if they couldn’t exorcise it, then it was entirely possible that the curse would eventually wear them down and kill them instead. Humans were vulnerable to exhaustion; curses weren’t. Then Ken-jichan would be in danger, too. 

So Shiki killed it.

… And now things were distinctly different from how they were before. 

Nothing about her training with Kiyohira-sensei has changed, overtly. But Daisaku-sama had started calling for more tests on her eyes again, and the very first of these new sessions had involved him asking her to cut the lines on another Gojo clansman’s cursed technique. 

He’d also asked her some very pointed questions about the particulars of her cursed technique. Shiki had been vague with her answers. Although it didn’t seem that the elder had put everything together quite just yet, it was probably only a matter of time at this point, given the way things were headed.

Beginning and end.

(Death.)

… Regardless, Shiki is in no hurry to explain things to him.

The renewed wave of fearful glances behind her back, the thinly-veiled speculation, and everything in-between –Shiki staunchly ignores them all. She doesn’t care much for what the rest of the Gojo Clan thinks of her. As far as Shiki is concerned, despite some things being distinctly different, by and large nothing has changed as a whole. She is still living in the clan compound and being taught by various tutors from the Gojo Clan. In the future, she’ll become a sorcerer and kill curses. Nothing has changed.

No, Shiki wasn’t overly concerned by the varied reactions to her inside the clan. What Shiki instead found herself increasingly concerned by was Ken-jichan’s reaction.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that her uncle is upset, in the aftermath of this entire incident, and it makes her anxious. Is he… is he mad because of Shiki? Is Ken-jichan angry with her, for dropping in on his mission? But Shiki missed him, she’d only wanted to see him, and… and if she hadn’t been there, then, what if–

What if–

(What if Ken-jichan met the same fate as Haibara-san?)

…

Ken-jichan is upset. Is he… upset with her?

Shiki is scared to ask him.

So she turns to the next best alternative: Asking Satoru-niichan instead. Her cousin briefly makes a face when he hears her question, then informs her in no uncertain terms that she would be better off talking to Ken-jichan directly about things.

… Why did he think she asked him instead of going to her uncle in the first place?! 

Shiki eventually follows her cousin’s advice, in the end. Unlike Shiki, Satoru-oniichan is someone who knows what he’s doing, right? 

And… he does have a point that the longer Shiki tries to put things off, the worse the inevitable conversation would be. Because Shiki would then have to explain why she avoided Ken-jichan on top of her preexisting apprehension of Ken-jichan being upset with her. Better to rip it all off quickly, like the bandage from a wound.

Spoken from experience?

“… Go on, scram. Nanami-kun was in one of the eastern buildings, last I checked.”

Shiki scrams.

She hadn’t expected to run into Geto-san as well, but it was good that… it was good that Ken-jichan wasn’t alone. Right? Because his friend just died. Shiki thinks she remembers one of her many tutors mentioning something about having to be careful with people who’ve gone through ‘traumatic experiences,’ and this most likely qualifies. 

Her uncle looks terrible.

… It hasn’t been too long since Shiki killed that cursed god, but Ken-jichan looks like he aged a few extra years, during this short timespan. 

Shiki is promptly hit by a wave of guilt, because it’s her fault, isn’t it? It’s her fault that Ken-jichan is upset like this. Her fault that Ken-jichan is always worrying about everything. Her fault that Ken-jichan’s friend is dead. If only Shiki had been faster, then maybe Haibara-san would still be alive, and Ken-jichan wouldn’t be so sad anymore.

Geto-san leaves them to talk in privacy.

… Except, now that they’re finally alone and face to face with each other, Shiki realizes that she doesn’t know what to say.

I’m sorry. You’re sad and hurt and I don’t know what to do. Am I the reason for it? Are my failings the reason why you’re so upset? 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I don’t understand but I won’t do it again I just– 

Please forgive me?

“Shiki.” The little girl manages to prevent herself from flinching at the gentle call of her name. “You… how are you doing? How–”

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, and it hurts. Kento-ojichan’s concern for her cuts like a knife through her chest… and Shiki is very well-acquainted with what that particular sensation feels like. It’s a struggle to keep her voice steady. “I… I’m sorry. You’re upset. I… I don’t…”

What is she saying?

Her uncle shakes his head. “Why are you apologizing? There’s nothing that you… need to…”

The young man trails off, and a grimace briefly flits over his face. Even though his head remains bowed between his shoulders, caged in by long arms resting atop his knees, the expression is still clear to see.

“Shiki,” Kento-jichan says slowly, “What gave you the mistaken impression that I’m… upset with you?”

The halting words are tinted with confusion more than anything outright accusing. Nonetheless, they flood Shiki with the sudden, inexplicable desire to run.

“You’re sad,” she responds quietly to the obvious question, forcing herself to stand her ground. Running away won’t solve anything here, she firmly reminds herself. That’s why Satoru-niichan told her to talk with Ken-jichan in the first place, isn’t it? “… You’re sad and it’s my fault.”

“What?” Her uncle automatically shakes his head. “No, of course it’s not your fault. It’s not–”

“You haven’t looked at me once since I killed that curse!”

The words burst out of her in an uncharacteristic near-shout. Her heart pounds in her chest, thudding and thudding, and Shiki can almost feel it burning in her throat.

Kento-jichan tenses, head jerking up in alarm, and finally looks at her.

“I…”

She didn’t mean to shout. She doesn’t–

Shiki just wants–

Don’t be angry don’t be sad I’m sorry I’m sorry–

The little girl tenses when warm arms reach out and carefully, cautiously encircle her, drawing her into a tentative hug. She sniffles, doing her best to stem the tears that just aren’t stopping, now that they’ve finally started.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for Haibara-san,” she whispers into Kento-jichan’s ear.

Her uncle stiffens, then draws back from her. Shiki feels her heart sink–

Warm hands clasp her shoulders. The little girl glances up, only to find the young man looking down at her steadily, seriously.

Kento-jichan looks directly at her and doesn’t flinch away from her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is firm, clear. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel this way. I never meant to give you that impression, this… this isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Shiki blinks watery eyes, “You’re not making any sense, Ken-jichan.”

Her uncle laughs, but it’s not a very happy sound. “You’re not to blame for any of this, Shiki. This mission, it’s not your fault. Haibara… Haibara’s death isn’t your fault, either.”

“But you’re upset.”

“I am,” he agrees easily, “But I promise that I’m not upset at you –or because of you. I… I’m upset with myself. I’m scared for you, Shiki.”

What?

“… Why?” the little girl asks in surprise, understandably taken aback by the unexpected turn in conversation. It’s a relief that Ken-jichan isn’t actually upset with her, but instead, he’s… scared for her? “I’m perfectly fine, Ken-jichan.”

There’s a strange look on her uncle’s face in this moment, a complicated expression that Shiki is unable to decipher. Frustration? Sadness? … Guilt?

But why?

The situation with the cursed god might’ve been dangerous, but they were able to resolve matters and exorcise it in the end. Clean and simple. There was no need to overly dwell on it. Then, was it… was it because Kento-jichan disagreed with the Gojo Clan’s training methods? Shiki has always been aware that her uncle wasn’t happy about her being sent out to exorcise curses, but… those were always weaker curses, if sometimes tricky. Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san were always supervising her, too. 

Everything was fine, wasn’t it?

Shiki doesn’t want Kento-jichan to be worried about her, not if it makes him upset like this. 

I promise that I’m not upset at you, or because of you.

For a moment, Shiki almost asks her uncle to promise her that as a binding vow.

Luckily, the little girl’s mind catches up to her before she can impulsively open her mouth to give voice to those words. And it also occurs to Shiki that maybe, just maybe, it’s not so incomprehensible that Kento-jichan would be worried, would always be worried about her, because… 

Because for her, isn’t it the same?

Hadn’t Shiki been worried about Kento-jichan? When Shiki had chosen to kill the curse… more than Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san’s struggles, it had been Kento-jichan’s safety encompassing the forefront of her mind when she’d decided to take matters into her own hands.

Shiki wants Kento-jichan to be safe. 

… Kento-jichan wants Shiki to be safe, too.

Oh, she thinks, as the new perspective finally slots into place inside her mind. It’s something she’s always vaguely known, but never really registered until this moment, somehow.

Her uncle hugs her again, and it’s… warm.

“I just want you to be safe,” he whispers brokenly. “It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t have to be like this. But I can’t protect you, I can’t… the Gojo Clan, they’ll never…”

Shiki carefully reaches up to hug Kento-jichan back as he trails off, struggling to find the right words.

“I need the Gojo Clan,” she tells him simply. “But the Gojo Clan needs me, too. They… won’t push too far.”

“And if they do?”

Shiki thinks about countless shimmering red lines. So fragile. So easy to reach out and cut.

“They won’t,” she says softly, with a certain sort of finality in her voice. “And if they do, then they will regret it.”

.

.

Shiki’s impression of Geto-san has always been something along the lines of nice. Friendly, in an easy to approach kind of way. Which generally isn’t applicable to most sorcerers that she knows, but she thinks it’s a rather apt descriptor for Geto-san, who’s nice in a way that Satoru-niichan is not and could never hope to be.

(Or Shiki herself, for that matter.)

Then again, Shiki’s perspective of the older teen comes solely from the few times that she sees him around on the school campus. That, and a particular mission last year that had gone sideways when it involved the late Sorcerer Killer. Despite their rather sparse interactions, it’s still enough to give Shiki a general idea of the older boy’s personality, if not the specifics of his character.

Which is to say, the little girl is mildly confused when Geto-san asks her a rather strange question one day, out of the blue:

“If you were able to choose freely, would you still decide to become a sorcerer?”

The little girl blinks, and looks up. 

The older boy’s expression is quiet, pensive. It’s clear that he’s patiently waiting for a response from her.

… Shiki has never really thought about this question before. If you were able to choose freely, would you still decide to become a sorcerer?

Ever since waking up with her parents dead and her world changed, she’s been pulled along by the Gojo Clan’s influences. No one had asked her opinion on anything, from the little things like her preferences on the color of her clothes to the highly dangerous plans being made for her future. The Gojo Clan was only interested in Shiki for her abilities –her potential– as a future sorcerer-to-be. There was never a choice in any of it, really.

But even so…

“I think so, yes,” is her response in the end. Because it feels… natural, now. Is that the right word for it? The world should not be filled to the brim with cracked red lines, lines that are not meant to be seen by human eyes, but there’s something about it that resonates with Shiki, deep down. It’s impossible for her to deny.

And… ‘killing is wrong.’ Shiki knows this, but she also doesn’t know it, not as she suspects most people know. The prospect of killing… Shiki doesn’t consider herself to be outright murderous or bloodthirsty, but admittedly the act of killing really doesn’t bother her as much as it probably should. That’s… problematic, isn’t it?

Kento-jichan would be disappointed in you.

… So it’s probably for the best that Shiki becomes a sorcerer, whose express purpose in life is to kill curses. 

(This is something that she hears Kiyohira-sensei mumbling under his breath every so often, too, when he thinks that she isn’t paying attention. 

“It’s like she’s born for this.”

He’s probably not wrong. Kiyohira-sensei would know better than Shiki, right?)

“That’s your answer, then?” Geto-san chuckles, and there’s a strange sort of inflection to that short sound that the little girl can’t quite put her finger on. There’s no time for her to dwell on it, either. “I wonder… if it wasn’t for the Gojo Clan’s influence, would you still be set on the path of a sorcerer?”

Shiki doesn’t think there was ever any option for her future aside from becoming a sorcerer, not from the moment she woke up with these cursed blue eyes. She’s not as resentful about the fact as she initially used to be, and in some ways it’s… it’s for the best, isn’t it?

After all, it was precisely because of these eyes and her training with the Gojo Clan that she could save Ken-jichan. 

With these eyes, you’ll be able to save many people in the future. Daisaku-sama’s words echo in her mind, low and fervent. So please work hard, little Shiki. I must confess, I dearly look forward to seeing what kind of sorcerer you’ll become one day.

“I don’t think any of that really matters, Geto-san,” Shiki shrugs. It is what it is, and these questions of ‘what-if’ change nothing about her current circumstances. Shiki can’t exactly say that she’s happy right now, but things could definitely be much, much worse. The Gojo Clan takes care of her, and she is… content, with what she has. With what awaits her in the future.

“Sorry,” the older teen shakes his head, vaguely rueful. “I guess I’ve just… had some heavy things on my mind, recently. Does it… does it really not bother you that you’re being asked by your clan to kill?”

His voice is light, conversational. As if this is a perfectly normal question to ask.

How is the weather? What’s your favorite color? Does it not bother you that you’re being asked by your clan to kill?

“Not really,” Shiki responds, with the exact same sort of indifferent casualness. Innocently, unknowingly.

(It’s not her fault. Shiki has subconsciously started to learn how to match her behavior to mimic those around her, so that her loved ones won’t worry about her. It’s not her fault that she misunderstands. Shiki hasn’t yet learned to properly pick up on context. It’s not her fault that Geto-san’s calm voice misleads her, however unintentionally. 

It’s not her fault.)

“I… see.” 

The little girl tilts her head questioningly at the strange pause. “… Is there something wrong, Geto-san?”

Geto-san’s eyes flicker down towards her for an unreadable moment, and he shakes his head. He smiles, but the expression comes out as more of a slight grimace instead. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

Shiki hums, not entirely believing, but there’s no reason for her to push. “If you say so, Geto-san. Maybe you should talk about whatever is bothering you with Satoru-niichan?”

Her cousin had advised her to talk with her uncle, after all, and they’d mostly managed to sort things out between them. Maybe this was something similar?

This time, the smile that crosses Geto-san’s face is more genuine. “Maybe I will. That’ll have to wait until I get back from my next mission though, which might take awhile –it’s pretty far out in the countryside this time.”

The little girl nods in understanding. “Stay safe, Geto-san.”

“Thanks, Shiki-chan.” She gets a soft headpat from the older boy –unlike Satoru-niichan, who delights in turning Shiki’s hair into a misshapen bird’s nest at the drop of a hat, Geto-san’s gesture is nothing but gentle. 

… Neither of them know it.

Neither of them know it that afternoon, when they sit together on the steps of the stone stairway of the jujutsu school, just an older student watching over a young girl until her clan comes to retrieve her. Geto-san offers a quick greeting to Jihei-san when the man arrives, then bids the both of them farewell as he leaves for his own mission.

Neither of them know it, but that’s the last conversation they have for a long, long time.

… 

Two weeks later, an official declaration is made:

Under Article 9 of the Standard Jujutsu Regulations, Geto Suguru is to be designated as a ‘Curse User’ for gross misuse of sorcery to commit murder of unrelated non-sorcerer civilians. 

Current casualty count: 112. 

Standing orders: Execution on sight.

…

Shiki’s initial reaction upon hearing it is, That’s a lie.  

… Except it’s not. Bureaucracy in the jujutsu world has its fair share of backroom deals and pitfalls just like the sorcery clans that their administrative body is composed of, but there’s no point in spinning a lie of this magnitude for a Special Grade Sorcerer . And who would dare frame a Special Grade for such an atrocity in the first place? Not unless it held some measure of truth, and the Special Grade in question had… had actually gone and… 

… 

Her second thought is, Satoru-niichan will be upset.

Oh no.

“Where’s Satoru-niichan?” Shiki asks.

Satoru-niichan is looking for Geto-san, as it turns out. 

Which is… unsurprising. Because Geto-san is his friend. The sort of friend that he actually trusts, and for someone like Satoru-niichan, that’s a rare thing. But the days slowly pass and the execution order on Geto-san is never rescinded, and– 

And Shiki is a little at a loss as to what to do. What’s the appropriate response when your cousin’s best friend suddenly decides to massacre an entire village of non-sorcerer civilians without warning?

No, no one goes and does anything like this without any warning. But… but Shiki hadn’t noticed any signs that stood out to her. Geto-san had seemed a little tired, the last time she’d seen him, but that was normal for a sorcerer –particularly a Special Grade sorcerer. Satoru-niichan sometimes cheats with Reverse Cursed Technique, but Shiki has seen her cousin when he’s tired, too. 

Tiredness didn’t explain the sudden decision to kill 112 civilians.

Shiki has trouble picturing it. Geto-san of all people, really? She’d figured that this would be something that the Gojo Clan would be wary of in regards to Satoru-niichan, but to think that Geto-san would do this, it’s… 

It’s strange.

Jujutsu is meant to protect non-sorcerers, Geto-san had once told her. Had he been lying?

… Well, it doesn’t matter if he lied to her or not. Shiki is more concerned by the possibility of Geto-san also lying to Satoru-niichan. Her cousin had called Geto-san his best friend, and together they were supposed to be the strongest. Had it all been a lie? Had Shiki just never noticed?

Or… was there something else going on here, too?

Shiki doesn’t know Geto-san as well as Satoru-niichan does, but Geto-san doesn’t strike her as the type of person to indulge in indiscriminate murder, not like some other curse users that come to mind. It doesn’t make sense that he just went and decided to massacre an entire village out of the blue.

So the question was-

“Why?”

“Who the hell knows?!”

Shiki folds her arms across her chest, unimpressed by the frazzled response. She’s sympathetic to Satoru-niichan, though. Out of all of them, Geto-san’s newly-acquired taste for murder and abrupt betrayal of the jujutsu world hits Satoru-niichan the hardest, and everyone knows it.

Her cousin certainly looks like he’s had a rough few days.

Shiki drops down right next to Satoru-niichan where he’s sprawled out on the ground of the Tokyo Jujutsu School, his legs strewn out messily as he sits in a slouching pile.

“Ieiri-san told me you found Geto-san,” she says without preamble.

“I did, yeah.” Her cousin rubs his head, frustrated. Clearly, it was a meeting that didn’t turn out too well, if that’s his reaction.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” At that, her cousin looks up and gives her a disgruntled side-eye. Shiki raises her hands placatingly, “It’s a perfectly valid question! There’s an execution order out on Geto-san right now.”

“… So just because it’s an order from the higher-ups, you’d follow it through?” Satoru-niichan asks levelly. There is a chilling note of something dangerous lurking beneath his voice, but Shiki remains wholly unperturbed by it.

The little girl shrugs neutrally. “You know how I feel about the elders, Satoru-niichan. I was genuinely just curious.”

“Ah. Well, I guess I should’ve expected that from you, then.” The older boy laughs, and it’s such a terribly fond sound. There is no longer a trace of any sort of darker undercurrent lingering anywhere in his words. “My adorable mess of a murderous little cousin.”

“… I’m not the one who killed a hundred civilians,” Shiki says, distinctly offended. 

“That’s true,” Satoru-niichan agrees easily. “My mistake, I guess that’s a bad way to put it. I suppose that having a natural inclination towards killing isn’t the same as being actively murderous.”

His words would’ve sounded a little more sincere if they hadn’t been accompanied by a none-too-gentle headpat at the end. Shiki doesn’t complain about it, though. Despite the light tenor of his voice, it’s easy to see that her cousin is clearly unhappy right now, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself from it.

Shiki has always rather liked Geto Suguru. But in this moment, she suddenly cannot help but feel that she hates him a little bit, too, for putting this sort of look on Satoru-niichan’s face.

“Did Geto-san tell you why he did it, at least?” Shiki is genuinely curious. To the best of her knowledge, Geto-san isn’t like her –or even like Satoru-niichan, for that matter. Geto-san’s mindset and worldview aligns much more closely with someone like Kento-jichan’s rather than Satoru-niichan’s, so it’s surprising that he would just suddenly… snap.

“Suguru’s decided that he doesn’t agree with the way the jujutsu school does things,” her cousin responds. His head tips back, arms stretched out to his sides. “He thinks non-sorcerers are the root cause of pain and suffering from curses. So we should just kill all of them, apparently. That way, there will be no need for any more sorcery and the world will be free from curses, and all our problems will be solved!”

Shiki blinks. That sort of reasoning… “He really said that?”

“In a nutshell, yeah.”

Really? These words came from the same Geto-san who’d believed that sorcery existed to protect non-sorcerers? This was the exact opposite of the ideals he’d once espoused. How had he come to that sort of conclusion?

Shiki isn’t sure what kind of expression she makes, exactly, but it makes Satoru-niichan snort when he glances at her.

“I know, right?” His voice is a long, drawling complaint. “It’s an insane plan, is what it is! Who comes up with genocide as an acceptable solution to anything? … But it seems like he’s crazy enough to follow through with it all, no matter what anyone else thinks. He also said something about saving us, and saving the jujutsu world from itself. Can you believe it?”

Satoru-niichan shakes his head slowly. Shiki can sympathize. She really doesn’t understand it, either.

“… Why do other people make no sense?” she asks her cousin mournfully.

Satoru-niichan makes a face, “Beats me. If you ever figure it out someday, make sure to let me in on the secret, won’t you?”

Shiki also makes a face. She might be confident in her ability to learn new things, but something tells her that this isn’t something that she’ll have any luck figuring out anytime soon.

(Or ever.

The little girl tries not to think too hard about it.)

.

.

Satoru-niichan puts up an unaffected front, for the most part. But the truth is –Geto-san is his friend. He trusts Geto-san in a way that Ieiri-san can’t hope to match, and that’s a problem. Because Geto-san was the one that Satoru-niichan had trusted the most, but Geto-san also chose to betray the jujutsu school and all it stood for.

It’s a problem.

For a while, Satoru-niichan is uncharacteristically quiet, in the aftermath of Geto-san being declared a heinous curse user. But eventually, he finally seems to come to a decision about something:

“It’s not enough that I’m the Strongest. I can’t save those who are not willing to be saved.”

The rest of the year passes quietly. 

For all the furor that Geto-san had raised when he’d left the Tokyo school, he hadn’t immediately set out to raise havoc. There were no reports of indiscriminate slaughter after he became a curse user. Instead, there were whispers of Geto-san… taking over a religious cult?

Shiki isn’t too clear on the details.

Slowly, things settle back down into a quiet balance again, eventually. The only thing of any note that happens during the following year is Shiki’s new dance instructor being summarily removed from her post. 

It was a rather ridiculous affair, all said and told; the persistent woman had repeatedly, none-too-subtly attempted to cajole her student into becoming a shrine maiden. In her words, Shiki was better suited to “dedicating her life to dancing for the gods” rather than “throwing her life away fighting horrific eldritch abominations.” 

And so, the woman was unceremoniously dismissed.

Shiki was slated to become a sorcerer for the Gojo Clan. They did not need anyone putting ‘frivolous ideas’ into her head regarding her future.

… Or something like that, probably. Daisaku-sama hadn’t said it to her in so many words when he’d informed her of it, but Shiki gets the general gist easily enough. She can’t say that she’s entirely surprised.

Mikogami-sensei was… slightly eccentric, but an excellent instructor nonetheless. Shiki would miss the woman. Maybe.

The various ongoings of her lessons aside, Shiki’s missions have also changed. They were no longer constrained to Grade Four curses –they hadn’t been for quite awhile, honestly, not since she’d killed that Grade One cursed god what seems like a lifetime ago.

Some fights are trickier than others, especially when hostages come into play. Shiki dislikes those situations the most, because it’s been repeatedly stressed to her again and again that sorcerers are meant to protect people from curses. What does it mean when someone she’s meant to protect gets caught in the crossfire?

Nothing good, probably.

Not everyone can be saved. 

… But Shiki can try her best. 

In the summer after Shiki turns nine years old, she receives a particularly bloody mission in a run-down school out in the countryside. Which was unusual, as curses out in the countryside generally tended to be weaker than those found in cities. This particular assignment involved some local townspeople believing that the curse was a deity of some sort, one that demanded live human sacrifices. But due to the fact that there were a number of human perpetrators mixed up in the proceedings, it actually hadn’t been immediately apparent that a curse was involved in the beginning. Which meant that the case had initially gone to the police, who’d then taken it upon themselves to investigate–

Suffice to say, it was a mess by the time Windows had pinned the case down and the assignment was finally passed to a sorcerer.

Shiki had walked in on an amorphous tiger-like curse tearing hungrily into police officers and victims alike. The entire room was dripping in blood.

There had been twelve non-sorcerers, total.

Only three survived.

… It wasn’t even a cursed god, just a curse. But it was a Grade One curse whose body was covered head to toe in blood-red eyes that induced mild nausea whenever one looked upon it. Which made it an absolutely miserable battle for Shiki, whose method of fighting very much happened to be a visual one that relied on close-range physical combat. 

Kiyohira-sensei had bolted to his feet in alarm when Shiki walked out of the Curtain barrier covered head to toe in blood and bits of viscera. It was disgusting. Shiki had spared a fleeting thought that Limitless would’ve been nice to have, here.

Her injuries were minor at best, and she was mostly unharmed… if a bit shaky on her feet from the irritating dizziness that the curse induced.

Is this what being drunk feels like? 

Shiki decides that she is never drinking alcohol in the future.

She says as much to Satoru-niichan, who laughs at her. 

… Then proceeds to disappear for a week, much to the headache of all the elders panicking over the sudden disappearance of their honored clan heir. And Shiki as well, whose headache is only compounded by being left to deal with the elders in his place.

.

.

“I’m back! Did anyone miss me?”

Shiki straightens from where she’s reading in the courtyard, vaguely bemused. Typical Satoru-niichan. After pulling a disappearing act the last few days, her cousin waltzes right back into the clan compound with a brazen grin and not one note of discomfort in his stride. 

Although, the same attitude could not be said for his… companions?

The little girl blinks.

Children?

Hm. There were two children trailing behind Satoru-niichan as he flounced back into the clan compound without a care. An older girl and a younger boy, both of whom looked to be younger than Shiki herself. The girl was clearly nervous, hands wringing together as she took in the traditional style of her surroundings and the too-large courtyard with wide eyes. And as for the boy… 

… He honestly looked to be more wary than nervous, glancing around with a certain sort of caution and suspicion in those dark eyes.

Shiki pauses for a moment, staring. She’s pretty sure that she’s never met either of the two children before, but the boy was… oddly familiar, for some reason. 

“Shiki! My cute, adorable little cousin, how I’ve missed you so–”

Satoru-niichan arrives in front of her like a veritable whirlwind and sweeps her into a hug, lifting Shiki straight off of her feet and spinning her in a circle before letting her down again with an easygoing grin.

“Welcome back, Satoru-niichan,” Shiki briefly ignores her cousin for a moment in favor of carefully smoothing the wrinkles out of her yellow yukata. 

“C’mon, can’t you sound a little more enthusiastic to see me again?”

It seems like he’s in a good mood.

Still, “If you want me to be enthusiastic, then don’t leave me to deal with the elders on my own without a word.”

Her cousin laughs. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to worry and do what I needed to do, hmm?”

… Ah, yes. Back when she’d been hospitalized by her run-in with the Sorcerer Killer, that was what she’d said to her cousin, more or less. It’s true, and Shiki still stands by it.

“Yes, but some warning would’ve still been nice,” Shiki gives the older boy a pointed look.

“Sure thing,” Satoru-niichan responds cheerfully, in a way that indicates he isn’t going to listen to her at all. Shiki restrains the urge to let out a put-upon, defeated sigh. No need to encourage her cousin. “Anyways, look at what I brought back with me!”

Her cousin blithely sweeps his arms out to the children behind him in a grand gesture, both of whom freeze immediately at the sudden, unexpected attention. 

“The girl’s name is Fushiguro Tsumiki, and the boy is Fushiguro Megumi,” he introduces breezily. “So, what do you think?”

What does she think?

Shiki looks at the other children for a moment. Scarlet lines bloom and flicker in her field of view, and she notes the off-color glow in the boy’s body that’s absent in the girl’s. She’s done enough tests under Daisaku-sama’s watchful eye at this point to recognize the budding signs indicating a cursed technique; evidently, Fushiguro Megumi is a sorcerer while his sister is not. But she rather doubts that this is all that her cousin is asking of her.

What do you think?

Fushiguro Megumi… she’d thought that he looked familiar earlier, but she’s also fairly certain that she’s never met him before. Then, why did she think that he was oddly familiar in the first place? Dark hair and dark eyes, and there was something about his face that distinctly reminded her of–

Oh.

“… Satoru-niichan, really?” Shiki whirls on her cousin, openly stunned, “Is that Zenin–”

“Shhh!” The white-haired teen has the gall to press a finger to her lips to keep her from finishing her words. “Let’s leave it as a happy surprise for the rest of the clan too, yeah?”

For emphasis, he winks.

Shiki is thoroughly unimpressed. 

What sort of game is her cousin playing at this time? She’s not the only person standing in the open courtyard here, and she has no doubts that the clan elders would’ve received reports of Gojo Satoru’s return the very moment he stepped through the front gates. For a ‘happy surprise,’ he’s certainly not trying very hard to keep things secret at all.

So… the only reasonable explanation is that he wants this to be known, then. Maybe even make a big deal out of it, too. 

Why? What was it about Zenin Toji’s children that had drawn Satoru-niichan’s interest all of a sudden? 

Was it… related to Geto-san, somehow…? 

“Megumi and Tsumiki will be staying here for a bit, while I sort things out with the clans and get something put together with the Tokyo school,” Satoru-niichan crouches down in front of Shiki. “Keep an eye out for them from your end too, yeah?”

Shiki glances towards the other children. Megumi has a slight scowl, clearly mistrustful. Tsumiki, on the other hand, offers a tentative smile.

“… Alright,” Shiki says. Truth be told, none of it really matters to her. Despite her initial surprise at Satoru-niichan searching out and bringing back the Sorcerer Killer’s children with him, in the end it’s her cousin’s decision, and Shiki will respect his choice. That’s all there is to it.

Besides, going by the children’s reactions, she rather doubts that either of the Fushiguros have really had any sort of contact with the jujutsu world prior to Satoru-niichan swooping into their lives. It makes her… a little wistful, for some reason.

What an odd feeling.

Regardless, “When will you be contacting the Zenin Clan about this?”

The boy tenses up at the mention of ‘Zenin,’ while the girl remains clueless. Hmm. So the boy isn’t entirely oblivious, then.

“I’ll get to that after sorting things out with our own clan elders first,” Satoru-niichan responds casually. “I’m sure that we’ll be able to work out an agreeable arrangement for Fushiguro Megumi and his sister.”

Shiki’s attention is caught by her cousin’s distinct emphasis on Fushiguro. ‘Fushiguro,’ not ‘Zenin.’

The young girl looks up with mild surprise, “Are you implying…?”

Satoru-niichan laughs. “Shhh! Don’t ruin the suspense! Aren’t you looking forward to the delightful looks of surprise that the elders will make when they learn about this?”

“You mean the delightful heart attacks that you’re about to induce?” 

“Eh, same difference.”

Chapter Text

For better or for worse, there are no spontaneous heart attacks that occur during Satoru-niichan's initial meeting with the clan elders. There are, however, many loud-voiced protests when he announces his plans:

Namely, his intention to adopt Fushiguro Megumi as his own ward.

Fushiguro Megumi, son of Zenin Toji. Son of the Sorcerer Killer. The man who'd almost killed both Satoru-niichan and Shiki a few years back, during the incident involving the late Star Plasma Vessel.

… There's a certain sort of irony to this situation, probably.

Under any other circumstances, Shiki wouldn't have expected the elders to protest much against Satoru-niichan's decision. Sorcery clans like the Gojo Clan were always on the lookout for budding new talents and fresh blood to bring into their fold, after all. There might've been some token protests simply because Satoru-niichan was the clan heir, and it reflected badly on his image to adopt an unrelated out-clan child out of the blue. Fushiguro Megumi's Zenin blood could be overlooked; sorcery clans intermarried with each other all the time. So long as Satoru-niichan himself didn't mind the kid being the son of Zenin Toji, it wasn't a problem.

It was, however, a significant problem when the child in question had inherited Ten Shadows as his cursed technique.

To put things into perspective: The Ten Shadows technique was to the Zenin Clan what Limitless and Six Eyes were to the Gojo Clan.

Satoru-niichan's declaration of taking in Fushiguro Megumi as his ward? Was practically the equivalent of spitting in the Zenin Clan's face and just asking to start a blood feud, according to a stressed, disgruntled-looking Daisaku-sama.

Stealing another clan's cursed techniques just wasn't done, apparently. It was one thing when it was a gray area like Shiki's case with the Kamo a few years back, since Shiki's cursed technique was entirely new to the Gojo Clan's history and a complete unknown beforehand. But something like the Zenin Clan's prized Ten Shadows? The treasured Ten Shadows that hadn't been seen in generations?

"If you persist in this foolishness, you'll have the Zenin Clan declare war on us, reckless boy!"

Satoru-niichan shrugs nonchalantly. "Nah, that's not a concern. They don't have the nerves for it."

Someone makes an acutely pained sound not unlike a dying teakettle from the left side of the room. Shiki squints towards it from where she's seated next to Daisaku-sama, in this hastily-assembled clan meeting. Was that someone from Takatomi-sama's side just now?

"Be as that may, Satoru-kun," another elderly clansman raises their voice, "Surely there is no sense in unnecessarily raising tensions like this. The Three Great Families should stand as a united front leading the jujutsu world. Why would you wish to incite hostilities like this?"

… That was a very pointed question there, full of barbs. Shiki frowns. Every word might profess a desire to de-escalate and avoid coming into conflict with the Zenin Clan, but there's no mistaking the silken layer of ill intent not-so-subtly directed towards her cousin behind it.

Satoru-niichan does not miss it, either.

"You're accusing me of deliberately inciting hostilities? Really?" her cousin sounds amused. "Now why would I ever need to do that, when the lot of you seem like you're managing it just fine on your own?"

There is a faintly offended, uneasy sort of low murmuring that rises in the room from that response. But honestly, it's the truth; the gosanke are always fighting like cats and dogs with each other, beneath the superficial veneer of peaceful cooperation that's presented to the rest of the jujutsu world.

… Bloodline-stealing is most likely still pushing things a bit, though. Something on the scale of poaching the Zenin Clan's Ten Shadows couldn't exactly be compared to the petty little disputes and one-upping that comprised most of the great clans' usual bickering with each other.

Or, maybe Satoru-kun was hinting that he knew of some of the elders' dealings with the Zenin Clan behind his back? Dealings that would raise hostilities between the clans, if they were brought to light?

Shiki wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be the case. She still remembers what had happened with Gojo Kansuke-san and the Kamo Clan, after all. That Kansuke-san was able to contact Ima-san and bring Shiki out of the compound without alerting Daisaku-sama… suffice to say, it was terribly unlikely that he would've been able to accomplish that solely on his own, without any other elders' tacit support or approval behind him.

At this point, Shiki really isn't surprised by these games anymore. It's… annoying. But unfortunately, an unavoidable facet of her life now, one that looks to be permanent for the foreseeable future so long as she lives with the Gojo Clan.

The little girl sighs.

"Now is not the time to point fingers and lose ourselves to senseless bickering," a new voice cuts across the din, as severe as it is austere. The unhappy whispers and grumbles immediately cut off into silence in wake of this command.

No one is foolish enough to try and talk over Gojo Hisayasu-sama, the twenty-eighth and current head of the Gojo Clan.

This isn't Shiki's first time seeing Hisayasu-sama, as she's had the 'honor' of being in her clan head's presence several times by this point. Gojo Hisayasu-sama is an unsmiling, serious man, with crow's feet wrinkling his eyes and stark white hair framing his face. He's older than Daisaku-sama. Shiki remembers the elder offhandedly mentioning that fact at some point, although she does not remember the exact number of years it is precisely.

"Satoru," Hisayasu-sama's voice is gravelly, but strong. Steady. There is a distinctly authoritative edge to his tone, uncompromising –or maybe Shiki is just imagining things. She rather doubts it, though. "What is your intention in obtaining custody of the Zenin Clan's Ten Shadows?"

"Isn't it obvious?" In sharp contrast to Hisayasu-sama, Satoru-niichan's voice is a lazy, nonchalant drawl. "Making sure the Zenin will keep their hands away."

There is a renewed round of agitated grumbling and scandalized hissing at this; all of which are swiftly, summarily silenced.

"Why?"

"Because he asked for it."

… Oh.

Is this why Satoru-niichan was going to all this trouble? Shiki knows that her cousin doesn't enjoy dealing with the elders. It makes sense if it was a request from the Fushiguro boy… although, this then raised the question of why Satoru-niichan would go out of his way to oblige him. It certainly wouldn't be out of the kindness of his heart; Satoru-niichan is many things, but he's not nice.

Was it curiosity, perhaps? An investment? Or maybe even both, just like how it had been for Shiki in the beginning? … Although in Shiki's case, there had also been the added factor of her situation being a frantic call for help from a junior classmate who was desperate to find his missing niece.

"The boy 'asked for it?'" someone else scoffs loudly in the background. "What could he possibly have done to have asked for it? How could such a young child possibly deserve to be separated from their family?"

… Really?

Shiki can't help it; she delicately raises a sleeve and coughs pointedly. Daisaku-sama swiftly cuts her a disapproving look, a sharp expression that's unmistakable for anything but Be quiet. But it's not as if she's actually said anything now, has she?

The man who'd scoffed at Satoru-niichan just now freezes at the soft sound of Shiki's light cough. His face colors and reddens in embarrassment as his mind catches up with his words, recalling Shiki's particular situation in which she had been actively kept away from Kento-jichan. Satoru-niichan, on the other hand, only looks on amusedly at the small byplay.

"You misunderstand me," the teenager adopts a casual standing pose, hands sliding into his pockets. "Megumi himself asked me to keep the Zenins away from him and his sister, when I found them. He wants nothing to do with the Zenin Clan."

Daisaku-sama sucks in a short, sharp breath, gray brows furrowing, and he is not the only one in the room to react this way.

But is that really so hard to imagine?

If Shiki had been given a choice between Kento-jichan and the Gojo Clan back then, she knows what she would've chosen without any trace of doubt. It's wholly unsurprising to learn that Fushiguro Megumi evidently harbors similar sentiments, and wishes to remain with his sister.

Given the scornful attitudes that she has witnessed towards non-sorcerers in the Gojo Clan alone, and taking into account the concerning rumors that she's heard of the Zenin Clan on top of that… Shiki has little doubt that the Zenin would eat Fushiguro Tsumiki alive, if her brother tried to bring her back to the clan with him.

"You are… certain of this?"

"'Course I am," Satoru-niichan inclines his head ever so slightly to his clan head. "He wants to protect his sister."

"What foolishness," another elder grumbles. "The boy is only sabotaging himself and wasting his own potential, rejecting his clan out of hand like this!"

"I agree." The new voice that rings out comes from the left side of the room –an older man seated next to Takatomi-sama, who's openly frowning. He does not look towards his elder, but there is no doubt of whose behalf he is speaking on.

"Even if this is something that the boy willingly requested by himself, he is but a child who does not comprehend the repercussions of his choices," the man continues. "The child was raised as a civilian, was he not? Then it's only natural that he does not know what's good for him as a sorcerer. Knowing that, it would be remiss of us to allow him to make such a severe mistake. And that's not even considering the damage this would do to our relationship with the Zenin Clan. I humbly beseech Satoru-sama to reconsider."

"I concur."

"I concur."

"I, too, concur."

The general consensus of agreement is overwhelming. Gojo Hisayasu-sama takes in all of these reactions with a calm, placid eye from where he sits at the head of the room, and turns back towards Satoru-niichan–

–who cuts him off before he even opens his mouth. "I take it that the clan refuses to back my decision to take Megumi and Tsumiki as my wards, then?"

Hisayasu-sama, to his credit, does not flinch. "It is my duty to serve the will of the clan."

Satoru-niichan reaches up with one hand to rub at his head and sighs, a put-out sound. "Boring."

"A good leader listens to the concerns of his people," the elderly man says severely, faintly reprimanding.

"Even when they're clearly in the wrong?" Her cousin's hand falls back down to his side, and he straightens. "Y'know, I would've thought that you'd be all over this, considering the clan's obsession with powerful cursed techniques."

"Strength is paramount for a sorcerer," Hisayasu-sama responds. "… But all power comes at a price. A single boy and his civilian sister are not worth the enmity of the entire Zenin Clan, Ten Shadows or no. The balance between the clans must be maintained, for the continued prosperity of the jujutsu world."

Satoru-niichan clicks his tongue. "Short-sighted, and cowardly. Why am I not surprised?"

"Watch your tongue! Even if you are the honored clan heir, you cannot cannot speak that way to–"

"Peace, Tadatsune." Hisayasu-sama holds up a hand to silence the agitated man, who looked to still be full of protests. Unlike the other man, the clan head remains calm. "Let him finish."

"Hisayasu-sama, you can't possibly entertain such–"

"Silence."

The man's mouth clicks shut and he falls silent, ducking his head in shame.

"Such a well-trained dog," Satoru-niichan muses aloud. Gojo Tadatsune twitches as if to protest, but maintains his silence and does not look up.

Shiki can't help but wonder –is it truly because Hisayasu-sama intends to hear Satoru-niichan out? Or… is he trying to protect Tadatsune-san from Gojo Satoru by commanding him to remain silent?

Hmm.

"You do yourself no favors, provoking your fellow clansmen like this," the old clan head sighs wearily. "The clan cannot support your decision to foster the Ten Shadows child. But we are more than willing and able to care for his sister, if he fears that the Zenin will–"

Satoru-niichan bursts into laughter.

"Ha! Are you kidding me? You're too scared to nab the kid from the Zenins, so you want to take his sister hostage instead?"

A flicker of something flashes lightning-fast in Hisayasu-sama's eyes –shame, anger, guilt?– but it's gone too quickly before Shiki can make any sense of it.

"You overstep yourself," he says quietly.

"Me? I'm the one overstepping myself?" Satoru-niichan shakes his head. "Are you even listening to yourself here?"

Hisayasu-sama surveys the white-haired teenager impassively, unmoved. "You are the clan heir, Satoru. Remember that. It would behoove you to think and act in the interests of your clan, before chasing any personal pursuits."

The room falls dangerously quiet.

"… Is that what this is all about?" her cousin asks softly. "You would overlook whatever you want and refrain from acting because it's inconvenient, using the clan as your excuse?"

The clan head remains unmoving. "It is the will of the clan."

"Alright," Satoru-niichan nods once, simply. "In that case, then I guess there's really no choice. Starting today, right now, effective immediately, I'm taking over as clan head."

…

The stunned silence that follows his statement is deafening.

Satoru-niichan's voice might be as careless and nonchalant as ever, but his words are anything but. Shiki finally perks up and straightens attentively from where she's sitting next to slack-jawed, stricken-looking Daisaku-sama.

"… This isn't the time to be reckless with your whims again, Satoru," Hisayasu-sama is the first to recover his composure, and his eyes narrow. Satoru-niichan remains wholly unbothered. "Do you realize what you're saying?"

"Did I stutter?" Her cousin tilts his head, smiling. It's a distinctly sharp smile –sharp enough to cut. "I'm taking over as clan head."

His voice is fact, leaving no room for any argument.

Shiki isn't blind. The discontent in the room, the disbelieving anger, the mounting shock and dismay–

"Foolish, arrogant boy!" One of the elders literally rises to their feet roaring in anger, face red and blotchy with unrestrained fury. "Is this all just a joke to you? Even if you are the heir, you cannot just declare yourself clan head on your own like this! Have you no shame?"

"You go too far," another elder grumbles disapprovingly. "Satoru-kun, please take back your words. No matter how strongly you feel about this situation with the Ten Shadows boy, there's no need for such… overreaction."

"Disrespectful. Utterly disrespectful! Muneyoshi, what have you been teaching your son?!"

A man rises in the corner of the room –tall and dark-haired, but there's a faint resemblance in the contour of his face with Satoru-niichan. It's Shiki's first time seeing him in person, but there's no doubt that this is Gojo Muneyoshi, Satoru-niichan's father.

The man briskly makes his way towards the center of the room in a few long strides. He ignores Satoru-niichan completely, and calmly comes to a stop in front of Hisayasu-sama.

Then kneels and prostrates himself on the ground.

"Please forgive Satoru's rashness, Hisayasu-sama," he says tonelessly without fanfare. "His words were spoken in the heat of the moment. I humbly request your forgiveness–"

"That's enough," Satoru-niichan cuts off his own father brusquely. "There's no mistake, you heard me right the first time. I'm declaring Gojo Hisayasu inept and unfit for duty as clan head. As heir, the role of clan head now falls to me."

Her cousin pauses for a moment. Takes in the simmering discontent, the tumultuous swell of cursed energy in the room rising like an angry tide.

Satoru-niichan smiles, with an expression that's all teeth.

"Unless anyone wants to challenge me for the position?"

The brazen words are as mocking as they are taunting; absolutely no one in the Gojo Clan is a match for Gojo Satoru as a sorcerer, and everyone knows it. And at its core –the Gojo Clan is only a sorcery clan, in the end.

… It's still a dangerous game that her cousin is playing, though.

Technically, there's nothing wrong with a clan heir inheriting as clan head after declaring their predecessor incapable. It's happened before a few times throughout the Gojo Clan's history; Shiki remembers reading about it in the scrolls that Yuzuki-san had lent to her. However, none of them had been quite so… unilaterally one-sided, heavy-fisted, and solely based on the strength of a single man.

Then again, none of the previous clan heirs had been Gojo Satoru.

… It's not as if no one in the clan supports Satoru-niichan. Regardless of the elders' reservations, Satoru-niichan is actually fairly popular among the younger generation, as well as some of the more progressive-minded individuals in the clan. But none of them really held any significant positions of power or influence. Such roles were tightly controlled by the elders, who were, by and large… conservative traditionalists.

That had the potential to make things very difficult for Satoru-niichan, in the long run. Without the elders' support, even if he named himself clan head, it would be impossible to get things done. It didn't help that he'd spent the last four years in the Tokyo jujutsu school, so he was out of touch with most of the clan's internal matters.

Shiki has no doubt that some of the elders had deliberately withheld or hidden information from Satoru-niichan even after his return, too.

Which meant the current problem essentially boiled down to:

Power dispute.

There wasn't really any way for anyone to stop Satoru-niichan from claiming the title of clan head. Gojo Satoru was already named heir to the Gojo Clan, and considering his overwhelming strength, any potential challengers would probably have to be carried out on a stretcher. Or in a coffin.

However, the fact remained that the elders were all clearly discontent with Satoru-niichan's declaration… which meant that it was highly likely that they would try to make it so that Satoru-niichan would be the clan head in name only. They would most likely try to deprive him of a clan head's power and authority, delay and obstruct his orders, and–

And there's absolutely no way Satoru-niichan isn't aware of all of this himself. Shiki doesn't believe for a single second that Satoru-niichan would take any of that lying down, either. He would have to bring the elders in line somehow. And the simplest, most effective way to do that in the shortest time frame…

"Satoru-sama. Please, reconsider!"

… would be making an example out of the most vocal dissenters.

It… most certainly wasn't the best way to deal with this issue. It was, however, the swiftest route for Satoru-niichan to establish his authority in a way that would ensure his orders would be followed, at least in the immediate future.

But why would he choose to–?

Ah.

Right, Satoru-niichan was also running on a time limit. The Zenin Clan were undoubtedly aware of the 'Ten Shadows boy' by this point; the news would've passed to them the moment Satoru-niichan had openly brought Fushiguro Megumi back to the clan compound. If the Gojo Clan could not present a united front by the time the Zenin Clan came calling, then it was highly unlikely that they would be able to protect the boy the way Satoru-niichan intended to.

Why does Satoru-niichan want to protect Fushiguro Megumi like this, though? Is it… really worth going so far for the Sorcerer Killer's child like this?

Satoru-niichan wants the boy to be free of the Zenin Clan's influence, that much is clear. That he intended to accomplish this by taking the boy under his wing…

For a moment, Shiki wonders just what it is, exactly, that her cousin desires to gain by doing so. Satoru-niichan isn't altruistic, but she highly doubts that his reason is something as inane as 'obtaining Ten Shadows for the Gojo Clan,' either.

… Then again, no matter his motives regarding Fushiguro Megumi, her cousin would've had to do something to reaffirm his position in the clan at some point. If he intended to make use of the Gojo Clan's resources without being constantly and consistently sidelined by the elders, a confrontation like this was only inevitable. So if it wasn't over the matter of Fushiguro, then it would've been something else, eventually.

Still, this was a rather dicey situation right now.

As powerful as he was, Satoru-niichan was also too much of a 'wildcard' for the elders to fully support him. Yes, no one would be able to stop him from declaring himself clan head; yes, he would be able to forcibly bring everyone in line, but…

But it would foster resentment in the higher echelons. Which had the potential to be dangerous even if the elders were replaced, given their deep-rooted influence in all matters of the Gojo Clan. And if there ever came a day when Satoru-niichan wasn't around to bring them to heel… things might become… concerning.

Shiki eyes the room. There are a variety of expressions ranging from shock to anger, grim determination to tired resignation. Satoru-niichan stands calmly in the center of it all, seemingly unaffected.

"Satoru, that's enough." Hisayasu-sama levels the white-haired teen with a stony look. "Trust me, this is not how you want to push this matter. Even if it's you, you would not be able to bear the consequences."

Satoru-niichan remains unmoving. "Is that a challenge? No? If not, then–"

"It's the truth," the elderly man sweeps out a hand to gesture towards the room at large. "Look around yourself, Satoru! Can't you see that there is no one supporting your claims? Is it not clear that this is not the future that you are meant to lead the Gojo Clan into? What will it take for you to finally cease your childish, rebellious ways and submit yourself to your fated destiny?"

Shiki stands up.

"What are you doing?" Daisaku-sama's voice is a low, fierce whisper. He reaches out a gnarled hand as if to pull her back–

But Shiki ignores him.

The little girl easily sidesteps her elder and makes her way down towards the center of the room, where her cousin is standing on his own. Satoru-niichan tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment of her unexpected approach, but does not say anything.

Hisayasu-sama, on the other hand, "What–? Daisaku, what is the meaning of this?"

"Hisayasu-sama, I–"

Shiki kneels.

Unlike Satoru-niichan's father, who had chosen to prostrate himself before his clan head in order to beg lenience for his son, Shiki elects to ignore Hisayasu-sama entirely. The little girl neatly tucks her legs beneath herself as she kneels down right before Satoru-niichan, and bows fluidly.

Without any trace of hesitation, Shiki presses her head to the ground in a single smooth motion.

"Gojo Shiki respectfully greets the twenty-ninth head of the Gojo Clan," she says in a clear, steady voice.

…

Her words are met with absolute silence.

Dead silence, ringing loudly in the empty air –but Shiki remains unbothered and unperturbed.

… It's not like… it's not as if she really expects her actions to do anything. Shiki is well aware that she's not a player in the clan's political games. She's only a nine year old girl. No matter her apparent potential and the clan's hopes for her future, Shiki is only a nine year old girl with no power or influence to speak of in the Gojo Clan.

But…

Look around yourself! Can't you see that there is no one supporting your claims?

It's patently clear that Hisayasu-sama is attempting to pressure Satoru-niichan into standing down because there are no elders supporting him. Which isn't going to work, because Satoru-niichan isn't the type of person to let little things like that stand in his way. A few shows of force, and a few choice words… no matter how unwilling they might be, the elders would follow.

But putting all of that aside–

Even if there are no elders who will stand up to openly support Satoru-niichan, at least Shiki is perfectly willing and wants to make her opinion clear. It might be completely worthless, and she has no doubts that she would be reprimanded for her 'egregious breach of decorum' later by Daisaku-sama, but…

There's not any real explanation for her actions.

Shiki… Shiki just doesn't want Satoru-niichan to be standing alone in this. That's all.

The little girl remains still, head bowed. Beneath her fingertips, the polished wooden floorboards are cool and smooth.

And around them, the heavy silence stretches on tensely.

… Then, faint rustling.

There is the distinct sound of someone shifting around and moving –no. No, someone else is… standing up? Standing up, and making their way down to the center of the room as well, heedless of the round of renewed whispers and hisses that ripple throughout the room. Shiki does not rise from her position or turn around to look, but she can hear the light footsteps of someone walking up behind her.

A slight pause. A rough swallow.

Then, Shiki becomes vaguely aware of someone else kneeling down behind her and lowering their head to Satoru-niichan in the same low bow.

"Gojo Ima respectfully greets the twenty-ninth head of the Gojo Clan."

…

… Ima-san?

Shiki is definitely surprised; going by the low murmuring in the room, clearly she's not the only one.

Really? Ima-san? What is she doing here, putting herself out like this? Shiki hasn't seen her aunt in a long time, not since… not since the day she was reassigned to Kiyohira-sensei, actually.

How… thoroughly unexpected.

The whispers in the room suddenly rise agitatedly in a renewed chorus. It doesn't take long before the reason for it becomes evident; heavier footsteps reverberate through the floorboards, and soon there are two others who join Ima-san on the ground.

"Gojo Kiyohira greets the twenty-ninth head of the Gojo Clan."

"Gojo Jihei greets the twenty-ninth head of the Gojo Clan."

Kiyohira-sensei? Jihei-san?

Wait, didn't both of them have many reservations about Satoru-niichan? Kiyohira-sensei, especially? Why did both of them come forward like this?

Shiki is so confused.

For a moment, the little girl is almost tempted to turn around and ask them. Almost.

… It's strange. On her own, Ima-san's arrival hadn't affected anything, but with Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san joining them and kneeling down in deference to Satoru-niichan, there is an unmistakable shift in the room. It starts as a small trickle, but the pattern is undeniable. Following Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san, there are more and more of their fellow clansmen who step forth to lower themselves before Gojo Satoru.

A few names Shiki recognizes, but the vast majority are unfamiliar to her. None of them are elders, though, and the number of those who join them from Takatomi-sama's side of the room is precisely zero. But, all the same…

…

… The little girl doesn't pretend to know what's happening at this moment, but… it's a good thing, right? It's good that there are finally people stepping forward to support Satoru-niichan?

Although, she still doesn't know if that'll be enough to actually–

"Gojo Daisaku… greets the twenty-ninth head of the Gojo Clan."

Shiki blinks rapidly, staring into the floorboards.

Daisaku-sama?!

… Okay, that was the last thing Shiki expected to hear. Daisaku-sama, really? Wasn't he always going on and on about his 'neutrality' and his intent to 'observe,' or something like that? Did this mean that he was finally deciding to throw his support behind Satoru-niichan? Something about that didn't really seem to match up, though… wait, when did he even decide this?

Shiki is so, so very confused by what's happening around her.

"So, is this enough for you?" Satoru-niichan's voice sounds from somewhere above her. Shiki's knees are starting to grow numb, but she keeps herself pressed to the ground all the same, even despite her bewilderment. "In the interest of honesty here, though, I should probably also make things clear: I really don't need your approval. Or anyone else's, for that matter."

The only thing that Shiki can see in front of herself at the moment is the wooden flooring. She doesn't know what sort of expression Hisayasu-sama makes, exactly, but she thinks that she can hazard a guess.

"That… that is…"

"Are you going to keep making excuses, or will you finally accept the truth, Gojo Hisayasu?"

A distinct pause.

Then, a shaky breath.

"… Gojo… Hisayasu… greets Gojo Satoru. Twenty-ninth head of the Gojo Clan. May you… lead our clan forward towards a brighter future."

…

And so, on a clear, bright day in the late summer season, Gojo Satoru officially succeeds Gojo Hisayasu as the twenty-ninth head of the Gojo Clan.

.

.

"I can't believe you did that."

The afternoon sun shines down brightly in the cloudless sky. In the shade, there is a slight reprieve, but the unhealthy pallor to Gojo Yuzuki's skin is clear to see even so.

Shiki tilts her head, "What do you mean?"

The older boy turns around from where he's all but collapsed against a tree trunk and gives her a dry look. "You. You railroaded half the clan into declaring support for Satoru-sama as clan head."

… What?

"I did nothing of the sort," Shiki denies flatly. "People came forward of their own accord."

Yuzuki-san arches an eyebrow. "Did you, or did you not, step out as the first to kneel down and proclaim deference to Satoru-sama when no one else did?"

Shiki sniffs, "That doesn't mean anything! You know my opinions don't mean anything to the Gojo Clan."

"… Are you joking?" Yuzuki-san rubs lightly at his temples, the way Jihei-san does so whenever he has a headache. "That… that means everything. Shiki-san, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're the 'blessed child' just as Satoru-sama is the 'honored one.' These aren't just empty words."

Aren't they?

Shiki has been consistently called the blessed child ever since her introduction to the Gojo Clan… and it certainly hadn't stopped the elders from arranging and rearranging every aspect of her life as they liked. Things hadn't really improved much until the day Shiki followed Satoru-niichan's lead when Yaga Masamichi's trial was reopened.

And then, later on, the situation with the cursed god.

"It's just a name, isn't it?" Shiki shrugs carelessly. "Unlike Satoru-niichan, I don't command any authority in the clan."

Yuzuki-san shakes his head. "Shiki-san… I know that you're… secluded, for the most part, by your training. And, likely due to Daisaku-sama's designs as well. So it might not be immediately clear to you, but…"

He pauses.

"Your words and actions carry weight," he says carefully, slow and deliberate. "Far more than you think. Your eyes, your innate technique… even despite the uncertainties surrounding it, you've already proven yourself fully capable of killing a Grade One, borderline Special Grade Curse. Do you realize how rare that is? The number of recorded cursed techniques directly capable of such a feat in the hands of such a young user can be counted on one hand."

The little girl blinks.

"… A borderline what?"

"Did no one ever…?" Yuzuki-san sighs, a heavy sound. "The cursed god you killed two years ago, Shiki-san. You slew it on the land where it was worshiped, in the very center of its power."

A Grade One was a Grade One. Shiki had never thought too much about it, in the aftermath; there had never been any reason to. But from the sounds of what Yuzuki-san is saying…

Shiki frowns. "Is it really that big of a deal?"

The older boy stares blankly at her for a moment, with an expression that's utterly done. "… Shiki-san. The Gojo Clan, in its entirety, has fifty-two active sorcerers. Of those fifty-two, six are officially ranked Special Grade One, and three are designated Grade One. You and Satoru-sama are the only ones with recorded kills of Special Grade curses."

That puts things into a little more perspective. Shiki isn't sure that she likes the implications of it, though.

"It… still shouldn't mean anything," the little girl swings her legs idly. "I've never been involved in any of the clan's internal politics before."

"Well, you most certainly are now," Yuzuki-san says dryly. He breaks off in a sudden bout of coughing, and Shiki looks for the nearby hand-cloth to pass to him. "… Thank you."

"You're welcome," she responds. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I mean exactly what I said," the boy wipes at his mouth, his voice faintly hoarse. "Let's not pretend there was ever really any doubt of Satoru-sama being able to claim the title of clan head from Hisayasu-sama. It would've been better if he'd waited another year to straighten out the political end of things, but… well, I digress. Given the current situation, though? It definitely would've involved a fair few dissenters being made into examples. Oh, it certainly would've worked, but it wouldn't have helped his reputation. And clan heads who ascend through bloodshed are rarely looked kindly upon."

Shiki rolls her eyes. The words more or less aligned with her own thoughts on the matter, but, "Satoru-niichan is a lot less murderous than all of you are making him out to be. I would know."

Yuzuki-san raises his hands in a helpless gesture of surrender. "If you say so, Shiki-san. Still, by stepping forward and declaring your support for Satoru-sama when you did… it wasn't just a child acting out of place impulsively. It was the blessed child publicly and blatantly aligning herself with Satoru-sama in a way that leaves absolutely no room for any misinterpretation. You see the difference?"

"Even if you say that," Shiki folds her arms across her chest, "My actions have no bearing on that of others."

"Gojo Ima, Gojo Kiyohira, Gojo Jihei," Yuzuki-san lists patiently. "Don't you see the commonality here? They followed your lead, Shiki-san."

The little girl shakes her head in disagreement, "I haven't seen Ima-san in years. Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san… both have their reservations about Satoru-niichan, so I was pretty surprised when they came forward too, but–"

"They came forward for you, Shiki-san," the boy says, a hint of exasperation seeping into his voice. "For you. Not Satoru-sama."

"But that doesn't make any sense!"

"This isn't an argument; I'm just stating facts. If you're that skeptical about it, then go ask them about their reasoning yourself," Yuzuki-san's words are straightforward and blunt. "Regardless, the results are clear: Ima-san doesn't command a lot of influence within the clan, but she is still the head of a branch family. Kiyohira-san is half-retired, but he commands respect from most of the clan's active sorcerers. Jihei-san is Daisaku-sama's aide, and well-connected besides. With them backing your decision, was it really so strange that others followed?"

Shiki purses her lips. Well, when he puts it like that…

"Even Daisaku-sama was pressured into declaring his loyalty towards the end," Yuzuki-san smiles wryly. "He's the one who's supposed to be in charge of you, so your actions reflect on him as well. I'd bet that there were several people who mistook this entire thing for Daisaku-sama's power play, too, considering how half his supporters followed along after Jihei-san… If Daisaku-sama didn't surrender and declare loyalty to Satoru-sama, then it would just make it seem like he completely lost control of his own faction."

Shiki vaguely remembers Daisaku-sama once saying something about being content to sit back and observe neutrally, before committing himself to any decisions regarding Satoru-niichan. So then… rather than finally deciding on his own terms to give his support to Satoru-niichan… did Shiki accidentally end up making the decision for him?

… Oops?

Shiki opens and closes her mouth mutely, then slowly raises a hand to cover the lower half of her face. "I… feel like I should apologize to Daisaku-sama, or something."

"You really shouldn't," is her sensible friend's practical advice. "He'd just use it as a chance to get one over you, or wrangle some future favor. Besides, it's not like he isn't getting anything out of this –it's highly likely that Satoru-sama will be using his people to get things done for now, so it's a good opportunity. You should just act oblivious when Daisaku-sama tries to bring up the topic in a roundabout manner, then ask him about how he intends to deal with Takatomi-sama."

"Takatomi-sama…" Shiki thinks back to the clan meeting. "He opposed everything Satoru-niichan said."

"Well, yes. Satoru-sama is from the main family, but he's not from the main line –that would be Hisayasu-sama's line; Takatomi-sama is his brother-in-law. So, surely you can see why Takatomi-sama would have a vested interest in helping Hisayasu-sama stay in power," Yuzuki-san shrugs.

Shiki huffs, leaning back and rubbing at her head. Why did everything have to be so convoluted?

"This entire mess could've been avoided if they just agreed to protect the Fushiguro siblings when Satoru-niichan asked them," she complains.

"Well, I wouldn't say that everything's a 'mess,'" Yuzuki-san remarks mildly. "Aren't you going to congratulate Satoru-sama on becoming clan head?"

The little girl turns and gives her friend a side-eye. "Satoru-niichan wants to be clan head just about as much as I do."

Which is to say, not at all.

Satoru-niichan might've been named the clan heir, but that was solely on the basis of Limitless and Six Eyes. Shiki is well aware that her cousin has zero interest in playing games with the clan's elders, or running the clan in general. It's the political weight and influence of the Gojo Clan that he needs for his goals, which means that the title of clan head is just a means to an end.

Hisayasu-sama could've very well kept his title of clan head and continued running things so long as he ceded to Satoru-niichan's occasional requests. In return, Satoru-niichan would continue being the strongest sorcerer, allowing the Gojo Clan to latch onto his power and cement an advantageous position of superiority in the jujutsu world. A simple exchange, right?

All the protests about wanting to avoid conflict with the Zenin Clan were only token excuses, in the end. There were already centuries of bad blood that existed between the Gojo and Zenin Clans; it wasn't like the sudden addition of one Fushiguro Megumi would really be able to tip the scales in either direction.

As for the issue of bloodline theft… technically, there was no actual 'theft' going on, given that Satoru-niichan had stated clearly that Fushiguro Megumi was not being formally adopted into the Gojo Clan. Or being forced to bind himself to the Gojo Clan in any fashion, either.

In fact, an argument could even be made that the closest case of bloodline theft between the clans was actually when a Zenin man kidnapped a Gojo bride from the main family a good hundred or so years back. From this perspective, the Gojo Clan was only 'getting even' now, with Fushiguro Megumi.

Besides, the chance to be personally mentored by a Special Grade sorcerer? That was an opportunity people would kill for. The Zenin might grumble and complain and ask for certain concessions, but there wasn't really any doubt of how things would eventually go in the end, now that things had settled in the Gojo Clan.

Shiki leans back against the tree behind her, looking up towards the sky. "Fushiguro-san had better appreciate what Satoru-niichan is doing for him."

"But is it for him, really?"

"… Not completely, probably," the girl admits, "But close enough, I think. And regardless of Satoru-niichan's reasons –Fushiguro-san is benefiting from all of this. He'll be able to use the Gojo Clan as a shield from the Zenin Clan going forward."

Yuzuki-san shifts and crosses his legs. "Lucky Fushiguro-san, then."

Is Fushiguro-san lucky? In many ways, yes, but…

Well. There's a reason why cursed techniques are called cursed techniques. Shiki has been told that her disposition is one uniquely suited towards the path of a sorcerer. Only time would tell if Fushiguro-san is the same.

It would be nice to have another friend around, she thinks. Although, Fushiguro Megumi didn't look anywhere near as friendly as Panda. His sister seemed to be more approachable, from what Shiki recalls.

Hm.

Hmm.

"… Yuzuki-san?"

Yuzuki-san, who is wise to her ways by this point in their acquaintanceship with each other, twitches and eyes her warily. "I don't know if I like the tone of that voice."

"Don't be like that," Shiki smiles. "So, hypothetically speaking, if I arranged for the Fushiguro siblings to meet Panda–"

"I'm calling it now: There's absolutely no chance of sneaking the Ten Shadows boy to Tokyo on your own, and the Zenins would probably ambush you on your way for good measure."

Fair enough. "Then, what if I invited Panda-san to the clan compound instead?"

The boy blinks, nonplussed. "You want… to issue an official invitation to a cursed corpse doll?"

"His name is Panda."

"You know that's not what I mean. Personally, I don't care about that, but the elders would definitely–" Yuzuki-san suddenly cuts himself off mid-sentence and narrows his eyes suspiciously at her. "… You're doing this on purpose, aren't you."

It's not even a question. Shiki shrugs amiably.

"Most of the elders are already on edge from Satoru-sama suddenly becoming clan head. You're thinking of pulling an obvious stunt to draw their attention and thereby free up the pressure on Satoru-sama," the boy deduces. Honestly, Shiki hadn't thought that far, but… he's not wrong?

"And from what you've mentioned about Panda-san, he would be the ideal candidate for a 'fun' introduction to jujutsu," the boy continues as he taps his fingers thoughtfully on the ground next to him. "A good friend to have in his corner, as well. The connection with Yaga-san might also prove to be beneficial in the future. But Takatomi-sama might also see this as an opportunity to–"

"Not everything has to have ten different reasons behind it while achieving multiple goals, Yuzuki-san," Shiki interrupts dryly, before her friend can really get going in his impromptu analysis. "So, will you help me?"

The pale boy blinks. Then, a helpless smile and slight chuckle.

"… This is such a terrible idea," Yuzuki-san says. "Daisaku-sama will be so upset. Count me in."

Chapter Text

“How’s my favorite little cousin doing, hmm?”

Shiki gets less than a second’s warning before she’s promptly swept off of her feet like a rag doll. 

… At this point, she’s more resigned to this sort of manhandling than alarmed by it anymore, really.

“Good morning to you, too, Satoru-niichan,” she says, voice muffled somewhere behind her own sleeve in this mess. The little girl makes a vague attempt to extricate herself –an exercise in futility, as these things tend to be when it comes to the veritable force of nature that is Gojo Satoru.

Her cousin laughs breezily. 

“Let’s go on a walk together,” he grins. Shiki peers suspiciously upwards toward the bright expression. Satoru-niichan sounds as cheerful as always, but it’s almost a little… too cheerful, for someone who spent the past week mired knee-deep in various clan matters and dealing with the higher echelons. Shiki does not envy her cousin in the least. 

And on that note…

The little girl squints. “When was the last time you slept?”

Satoru-niichan turns his nose up at her and sniffs, “Sleep is for the weak.”

“… You need to take a break,” Shiki’s lips curve downwards into a slight frown.

“Nah, I can cheat with reverse cursed technique. And besides, what do you think this is?” Her cousin finally sets her down on her own feet again, and immediately begins steering her by her shoulders towards the open doorway. “I’m taking a moment to finally spend time with my adorable little cousin! Everything else can wait.”

Shiki blinks slowly. It might just be her imagination, but… 

“Is there something wrong?” she asks.

“Hmm? Oh no, there’s nothing wrong. What gave you that idea?” the young man laughs.

“… No reason.” 

Satoru-niichan pokes her in the cheek. “If anything, I should be the one asking after you. The elders haven’t been giving you any trouble yet, have they?”

The little girl automatically shakes her head. “Daisaku-sama hasn’t said anything.”

Her cousin snorts.

… Fair enough. Shiki hadn’t really been thinking when the words left her mouth –of course Daisaku-sama wouldn’t be in a hurry to find her for anything, considering what she’d unintentionally done during the clan meeting. In all honesty, the man was probably tied up dealing with all manners of internal clan issues lately, on top of hastily-called private meetings with the clan’s other elders. The majority of whom most likely all had some choice words to say to him regarding his ‘decision’ to give his support to Satoru-niichan as clan head.

If any of the elders wanted to give Shiki a hard time, it certainly wouldn’t be Daisaku-sama. Not yet, at least.

“I haven’t been approached by any elders for any ongoing clan matters,” Shiki amends her previous statement. “Kiyohira-sensei has been out and about more these days, and I’ve only seen Jihei-san twice since the meeting, but… aside from that, nothing has really changed for me.”

“Hmm… I see. It’ll probably take a few more weeks before any of the other elders try to feel you out, then. I guess no one wants to risk ending up as a second Daisaku,” Satoru-niichan muses aloud.

Shiki puts a hand to her forehead. “It wasn’t on purpose!”

“It wasn’t now, was it?” Satoru-niichan reaches down and twirls a lock of her hair around his finger, giving an affectionate tug. He smiles broadly. “Not that I don’t appreciate you trying to stand up for me, but… you know you didn’t have to do anything during the clan meeting, right?”

Of course she knows that.

“I know,” Shiki nods. “But I wanted to.”

Yes. Shiki did it solely because she wanted to. Because she just wanted Satoru-niichan to see that he wasn’t standing alone. 

… She hadn’t expected half the clan to end up following her, but the point still remains.

“Because you wanted to?” her cousin repeats after her, amused. “You don’t even know why I’m taking in Megumi, and you’ll support my bid for clan head? Just like that?”

Shiki shrugs, “I don’t need to know what you’re planning to know that I trust you.”

For a moment, the older boy falls uncharacteristically silent.

“… So it’s that simple, is it?”

Of course it is. Isn’t that obvious? 

The little girl peers upwards. “… Satoru-niichan, are you really sure that you don’t need to take a nap or something?”

“I’m sure,” the older boy responds dryly, and Shiki gets a none-too-gentle hair-ruffle for her trouble. “I’ll be fine. I’m always running reverse cursed technique formulas on my brain to keep Limitless active indefinitely, anyways. Revising the formula so I don’t need to sleep for a few days is a lot easier than that. As a short-term solution, it works perfectly fine.”

Shiki frowns at the thought that Satoru-niichan is disregarding his own health in order to keep up with the stresses of his sudden ascent to clan head. She knows perfectly well that her cousin holds no love for the coveted position, and the disgruntled elders are unlikely to make things any easier for him. 

“Visit Ieiri-san.”

Satoru-niichan rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Alright, alright, I’ll go see Shoko once this mess is over. Happy?”

The little girl nods. Her cousin sighs exaggeratedly. 

“Such a demanding little cousin,” he says teasingly. “That’s enough about me, though –tell me what you’ve been up to. Jihei says you’ve been plotting something with Yuzuki?”

It figures that Satoru-niichan would already know about it. “We’re thinking about bringing Panda to the clan compound.”

Satoru-niichan hums thoughtfully. “Panda, huh?”

“Yes. To meet the Fushiguro siblings,” Shiki explains. “Most of the elders are all preoccupied right now, so it shouldn’t be too hard to go around the–”

“Nah, don’t bother circumventing anything,” her cousin waves his hand. “Just send an invitation directly.”

The little girl tilts her head questioningly. “But the elders–”

“The elders will know better than to pull anything,” Satoru-niichan says firmly. “And if they really do try something, then I wouldn’t mind making an example out of whoever sticks their head out.”

As hilarious as the mental image is, “Aren’t you trying to have Daisaku-sama get the other elders to settle down? They’ll just start saying that you’re abusing your power if you do that.”

“Really now, what’s the point of being the clan head if you can’t abuse the power that comes with it?” Satoru-niichan stretches his arms with a yawn.

… Shiki wouldn’t quite put it in those words, but he does have a point, somewhat. Sort of, if you tilt your head at it and squint.

What’s the point of being the clan head if you never exercise the power that comes with it?

Well, if that’s how he wants to play it… 

“A straightforward invitation for Panda it is, then,” Shiki nods. If Satoru-niichan, the clan head, gave the go-ahead for this, then that was another layer of protection for Panda inside the Gojo clan compound. Better than what she and Yuzuki-san were thinking of arranging on their own.

“You know what else might also help give that invitation a little more weight?” her cousin continues slyly, “If it came from the Gojo clan heir. What do you think?”

… Clan heir? Her?!

“Absolutely not,” Shiki instantly responds. She does not want to be the clan heir! No matter her apparent current involvement in the Gojo Clan’s internal politics, she is Not Interested. 

Satoru-niichan laughs at her. “No? Are you sure? No one would say anything against it.”

“No, I’m pretty sure people would say a lot of things,” Shiki lets out a small ‘hmph,’ arms folding across her chest. 

Because no matter what Yuzuki-san insisted about her cursed eyes and her innate technique, it didn’t change the fact that Shiki was born outside the Gojo Clan as a daughter of a minor branch family. Heirs are supposed to be from the main line, right? Shiki is perfectly happy to leave it to the main line to deal with the utter mess of their internal politics.

“Ha! As if you care about what the clan thinks,” Satoru-niichan sounds highly entertained by her knee-jerk reaction. He gives her one last headpat. “Well, think about it, alright?”

Shiki makes a face. She does not want to think about it, thank you very much!

Satoru-niichan tips his head back and laughs at her.

.

.

Inviting Panda to the Gojo Clan compound turns out to be an excellent idea. The Fushiguro siblings are both surprised at first (“Is that a panda?” “Why is there a panda here?”), and even more startled after Panda introduces himself (“Oh my god!” “Wait, the panda can talk??”). But Panda is friendly and fluffy, genuine and cheerful. It doesn’t take long before they begin to warm up to her friend, even sullen-faced Fushiguro Megumi.

Good.

Shiki might not be the best with making new friends –Gojo Yuzuki is, quite literally, the only other child in the clan around her age that she talks with on a semi-consistent basis– but Panda is the friendliest soul that she knows. A sharp contrast from everyone else in the Gojo Clan.

Shiki herself included. Obviously.

… She still tries, though. And with Panda present as a buffer, Fushiguro Megumi forgets to glare suspiciously and Fushiguro Tsumiki’s smiles change from stiffly polite to something that looks much more natural instead. It’s a shame that Yuzuki-san couldn’t make it here with them; there was an unfortunate relapse in his sickly condition the other day, and he’s still resting right now. 

But overall, Shiki thinks that she can tentatively mark this down as a success in her books.

… With certain exceptions.

Shiki flicks her gaze over towards the gate of the garden that they’re currently standing in.

There are always serving staff scattered throughout the clan estate. It’s not strange to see them walking around, or lingering at their designated posts –but instead of just one or two gardeners, there are quite a number of people currently scattered around the vicinity, milling about just out of visual range.

Or, they would be out of her visual range, if Shiki weren’t capable of observing bleeding lines in the world around her.

… 

None of them are sorcerers; their cursed energy levels aren’t high enough. In all likelihood, they were servants who’d been ordered here to ‘keep an eye on things’ by various elders. Elders who were undoubtedly concerned by a cursed corpse doll being invited into the grounds of the noble Gojo Clan. With the express permission of their new clan head, even.

From what she’s heard, Daisaku-sama’s face upon hearing the news had looked like he’d bit into a lemon for a split-second, before he’d forcibly smoothed out his expression again. He was not the only one to react that way, either.

… Shiki sort of wishes that she’d been there to see his expression. Yuzuki-san would probably be pleased to hear about it at least, if he wasn’t already aware.

“What are you looking at over there? Did you find a butterfly?” Panda’s cheery voice snaps her out of her musings. Shiki blinks and reels in her wayward thoughts, looking back towards the other children in the garden with her.

“Ah, no, it’s nothing. I just spaced out a little bit there, I apologize,” she responds lightly with a small smile. “Shall we head inside now? I think you’ve already seen most of the garden by this point.”

Shiki is also mildly curious as to how the elders plan on continuing to monitor their activities while they’re inside Kiyohira-sensei’s home. If they cross the threshold and ignore the garden’s boundary to come closer… that would be most inconsiderate and inappropriate and not at all proper behavior now, wouldn’t it? But if they didn’t know what was going on… 

It would make them antsy. Anxious. Apparently, what Shiki had inadvertently pulled off during the clan meeting now marked her as a ‘person of interest,’ or something along those lines. Yuzuki-san had informed her that more than one elder had nearly gone ballistic upon discovering that Shiki sent an official invitation to a cursed corpse doll to visit, fearful of what she was planning this time.

Joke’s on them! 

Shiki honestly doesn’t have any plans at all aside from ‘make friends,’ here. Or barring that, try to make sure that the Fushiguros don’t find her off-putting; Fushiguro Megumi is part of Satoru-niichan’s plans, so Shiki would rather they at least be on cordial terms. Distracting a little bit of the elders’ attention away from Satoru-niichan is also a nice bonus.

“Kiyohira-sensei is still out right now, but he should be back soon,” Shiki says. “Guest slippers are to the side… hm. I can show you the training room? Kiyohira-sensei probably wouldn’t want us poking around too much, I think…”

Kiyohira-sensei hadn’t seemed particularly pleased when Shiki told him that she intended to bring Panda and the Fushiguro siblings over, but the look that she’d received from him had been something more along the lines of, ‘dear god, what are you planning this time,’ rather than ‘please cease and desist immediately,’ so things were fine. Mostly. 

She… should probably try to do something nice for Kiyohira-sensei, once things settle down a little bit. Jihei-san, too. 

“Training room? Do you have any games there?” Panda tilts his head curiously.

… Right, she’s entertaining guests right now. Friends.  

The little girl briefly closes her eyes, faintly embarrassed. 

What was she thinking, offering to show them to the training room? The training room is for training. What would they even do there, spar? Shiki is banned from casual sparring, especially given the nature of her cursed technique… 

Is there anything suitable for children’s games in this house? Kiyohira-sensei certainly wouldn’t have anything of the sort, and Shiki… Shiki has a mountain of books and scrolls stacked neatly in her room. Wooden training blades. A few knives, and her tanto for missions.

Maybe it was a bad idea to invite them inside… 

“Oh hey, what’s this?”

The little girl glances over. Panda had wandered over to a certain strange-looking doorway, and started poking curiously at the varied notches carved into the wood. 

“Ah, that? Just one of Kiyohira-sensei’s strange habits,” Shiki responds. “I… apologize, I don’t think I actually have anything on hand to entertain guests with…”

“Oh, it’s fine! Don’t worry about it, really” Tsumiki-san says in a rush, hurriedly waving her hands in front of her. “It’s nice to just sit down, after running around outside. Isn’t that right, Megumi?”

The younger boy shifts his feet and mumbles something incomprehensible; his sister clears her throat and gives him a pointed look.

“… Yeah, sure.”

If any of her etiquette tutors were present, they’d probably be clucking their tongues disapprovingly at Shiki for being a terrible host. In Shiki’s defense, she doesn’t have any experience with hosting friends… That aside, the bulk of her and Yuzuki-san’s initial attentions had been on how to safely arrange Panda’s visit in the first place, rather than the details of what the visit itself would involve. 

And, the Gojo estate is nothing like the mountains where Tokyo Jujutsu High is located. Yes, it’s also secluded and hidden away on the forest outskirts of the nearby cityscape, but it’s a gated compound. The forest itself is also full of seals and barriers –not exactly meant for children’s romping or bug-hunting or what have you. 

Even the locals know better than to carelessly trespass on Gojo land. Although, that might be more due to certain rumors that may or may not have been exaggerated over the years… 

“So… this is where you live with your brother, then?”

Shiki blinks, “Brother?”

Tsumiki-san falters, similarly confused. “Isn’t… isn’t Gojo-san your brother?”

“Ah,” Shiki finally realizes where this misunderstanding is coming from. Best to clear things up directly, “Gojo Satoru is my cousin, not my brother.”

“Oh!” The other girl’s eyes widen, and she embarrassedly ducks her head. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. It’s just, you called him ‘niichan,’ and you both look so–”

Tsumiki-san makes a helpless, inarticulate gesture in Shiki’s direction. And the thing is, Shiki actually understands what she means.

It’s the white hair and cursed blue eyes again, isn’t it. 

“It’s alright,” she reassures the flustered girl. “You aren’t the first to make that mistake, actually.”

“They do look surprisingly similar, don’t they?” Panda interjects cheerfully from the side. “The two of you could probably pass as real siblings!”

Shiki waves her hand idly. It’s not something that’s ever registered to her mind as anything more than a passing thought, but, “… Maybe, I guess? Although, I honestly wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a sibling.”

Unprompted, the Fushiguros immediately exchange a quick look with each other; Tsumiki-san smiles sunnily, while Megumi-san rolls his eyes.

“Megumi is a bit of a sourpuss sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade him for the world,” Tsumiki-san says fondly. “Our… our parents aren’t around, so it’s just the two of us. We’ve got each other’s backs, right?”

“Speak for yourself,” the little boy grumbles. Dark eyes flick towards her briefly, and then he pointedly turns away from his sister. 

Tsumiki-san laughs. 

“Seems like you’re pretty close with each other,” Panda observes.

Of course they are. Shiki had known the Fushiguros were close from the moment Satoru-niichan made it clear in no uncertain terms that Fushiguro Megumi was adamant about staying away from the Zenin Clan for his sister’s sake. It’s admirable.

Impossible, too, if it hadn’t been for Satoru-niichan’s intervention. 

Given that Zenin Toji had apparently been planning to sell his son to his clan, and had even been in touch with the Zenin Clan Head on the matter prior to his death… well. Suffice to say, it was incredibly lucky for Megumi-san that Satoru-niichan had been the first to successfully track down the Fushiguro children.

“Say, would you… um, would you happen to know what Gojo-san likes?” Tsumiki-san’s expression turns into one of sheepish embarrassment. “He’s done so much for me and Megumi here, and… I’ve been wondering if there’s anything that we could do for him as thanks?”

Shiki can confidently say with one hundred percent certainty that Satoru-niichan couldn’t care less about receiving anything from the Fushiguro children as a ‘thank you’ for what he’s doing. But even so, the fact that Tsumiki-san wants to thank him… the fact that Megumi-san appears to be in agreement as well, despite not being particularly talkative… 

It makes something in Shiki’s chest feel light, even if she doesn’t quite understand why.

“Satoru-niichan likes sweets,” Shiki says.

“Sweets?” Tsumiki-san brightens, “Does he like daifuku mochi?”

Shiki pauses, “… Probably?”

She knows that Satoru-niichan is fond of sweet foods, but she doesn’t recall him ever mentioning a favorite sweet. Does he have a favorite sweet, actually? It’s never really come up in any of their conversations before… 

“Daifuku mochi!” Panda cheers, “Mochi is great.”

“Is it?” Shiki’s impression of mochi falls somewhere between ‘too sweet’ and ‘too sticky.’ 

“Eh? Wait, you don’t like mochi?” Panda whirls on her, his jaw dropping open in clear surprise. “But it tastes so good! Very chewy. Principal Yaga makes the best mochi –I bet you just haven’t had good mochi before!”

All of the food that Shiki eats are prepared by the serving staff in the Gojo Clan. At the very least, it’s probably not bad mochi that she has eaten before…?

“Homemade mochi is the best,” Tsumiki-san agrees. “We can try making some together sometime, if you want! I’m pretty good at cooking.”

And so, the four children find themselves in the kitchen in short order.

There is a kitchen in Kiyohira-sensei’s house –for all that Shiki’s never seen him use it. Or used it before herself, even. According to Tsumiki-san, it’s ‘well-stocked,’ which is… great? 

“Are you sure your guardian won’t mind us using any of this?”

“He’d have to stop by and notice that there’s anything missing in the first place,” Shiki responds dryly. “It’s fine, Tsumiki-san. Kiyohira-sensei won’t care about it, as long as we clean up after ourselves.”

“Alright, then,” the other girl nods. “Then… any preferences for what you guys would like as the filling? Red bean paste? Custard?”

Shiki doesn’t particularly care for either option–

“How about ginger?” Megumi-san chimes in from the side.

–but on second thought, red bean paste sounds great.

“You utter heathen,” Tsumiki-san says to her brother, aghast, and Shiki slowly lets out a tiny breath that she hadn’t even noticed she’d been holding in.

“What? You asked!”

In the end, Panda saves the day by miraculously unearthing a jar of white bean paste somewhere from the upper shelves, before Megumi-san can get to the ginger that his sister is doing her level best to keep out of his hands.

Making mochi is… messy. Shiki had not ever realized there was even a difference between rice flour and glutinous rice flour, but thankfully Tsumiki-san knew what she was doing. After mixing the flour with sugar and water, the dough needed to be steamed, before then being turned out onto a cutting board for light kneading–

“Make sure you have some flour spread over the board first, otherwise it’ll stick!”

Panda panics and lunges for the small bag of flour the same time Shiki reaches for it; a small white explosion goes off in the middle of the kitchen room.

Shiki coughs, choking slightly.

“Ah! Don’t cough onto the mochi!”

“I-I apologize.”

Panda sneezes.

“No sneezing, either!”

“Sorry,” Panda manages. Shiki gropes around blindly for a paper towel, and hands one to Panda when she finally finds one.

Megumi-san slowly straightens up from where he’d instantly dived for cover when the air was filled with flour. There’s a fine layer of flour that fell all over him, regardless of his efforts –his dark black hair is looking a little decidedly gray right now. Shiki, on the other hand, is spared from such concerns even though she was practically standing right in the middle of it all; her hair is white.

Using the sticky dough to wrap up the white bean paste filling turns out to be a lot harder than she thought it would be. Tsumiki-san’s hands are deft and confident, finished with three perfectly round mochi pieces in the time it takes Shiki to make a single misshapen one. Megumi-san has finished two ovals over on his end, while Panda has…

Shiki tilts her head. “Is that a–?”

“Yeah! It’s a flower!” Panda beams.

… Thank goodness she hadn’t finished her question to ask him if that was supposed to be a cursed spirit.

“Oh, that’s a fun idea!” Tsumiki-san smiles. “Mochi is hard to shape. You’re doing great!”

“It’s just mochi,” Megumi-san grumbles from the side. And is promptly chastised by his sister for being a grump, although Panda isn’t offended by any of it.

Shiki can’t say that this is where she foresaw this playdate going, when the idea had first occurred to her during her conversation with Yuzuki-san. But for all that the taste of mochi is as thickly sticky and sickeningly sweet as ever on her tongue, for all that she still doesn’t care much for the taste, it feels… nice, somehow, just sitting down in the flour-covered kitchen with the other children like this.

… She wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime. Hopefully, Yuzuki-san will be feeling well enough to join them next time, too.

.

.

Extra.

.

Gojo Satoru had grown up with the expectation that he would, inevitably, take up the mantle of clan head someday. 

Six Eyes, and Limitless. 

Honestly, it was really only a question of when.

He’d gone into that clan meeting knowing that there was a very real possibility that he’d walk out of it being the head of his clan. It wasn’t something he looked forward to –quite the opposite, really– but it wasn’t something that he was going to shy away from, either, if push came to shove. 

Which it did, unfortunately for everyone involved. Satoru himself included. 

Gojo Satoru has plans, and he can’t exactly enact any of them if he’s forever stuck in the compound running circles around his elders as the clan head. It’s lucky that he already has some ideas in mind on how to work his way around that, although he’ll need a little more time to get everything in the Gojo Clan in order first.

To the Gojo Clan, Gojo Satoru was only a tool. But in his eyes –the Gojo Clan was also a tool to be used. 

It’s only fair, isn’t it?

He’s never made his feelings on this matter a secret; that would be another reason why so many of the elders initially refused to support him, probably. Not that it did them any good in the end. Especially not after Shiki had gone ahead and… 

… 

Shiki had surprised him. Satoru never would’ve expected his cute little cousin to stand up for him like that –and right after Old Hisayasu’s needling, too! The look on Old Daisaku’s face when she’d walked out into the middle of the room, haha. 

Then she’d kneeled. To him. Blessed Child to the Honored One. 

And the best part about it all?

You know you didn’t have to do anything, right?

I know. But I wanted to.

… I don’t need to know what you’re planning to know that I trust you.

Satoru has the most adorable little cousin, really.

“I don’t know what she sees in you.”

Satoru grins smugly, making zero effort to hide his pleased expression. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

Gojo Kiyohira scowls, disgruntled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Satoru-sama.”

“Hey, I’m your clan head now,” he leans back lazily into his chair. “How about a little respect here?”

Kiyohira very visibly grits his teeth, then forces himself to relax despite Satoru’s deliberate prodding.

Hmm. Interesting.

Satoru reaches out to the plate on the corner of his desk and picks up a piece of daifuku mochi. Daifuku mochi that was made by Shiki and the other kids yesterday, actually! It’s a little misshapen and lumpy and could definitely use some more sugar, in his humble opinion. But it’s also distinctly sweet in a way that has nothing to do with the taste itself.

How strange.

He polishes it off in two quick bites and promptly snatches up another piece. “So, are you actually here to see me for something, or are you just delivering mochi from the kids?”

“Do you plan on making Shiki your heir?”

Satoru pauses, mildly surprised. “She told you?”

“She didn’t have to. I can read between the lines on my own well enough,” Kiyohira responds dryly. “Whatever you’re planning, just… leave Shiki out of it, won’t you? She’s under enough scrutiny already. If you name her as your heir on top of that, then the elders… definitely won’t sit aside quietly. We’ll need at least another Grade One to help deal with the inevitable assassination attempts. Did you see how many elders immediately set watchers on her yesterday, using Yaga’s cursed corpse doll as an excuse?”

“Yeah, that was pretty funny,” Satoru grins, steepling his fingers under his chin as he leans forward and rests his elbows on the low table. 

He knows what Kiyohira is talking about. The low-key surveillance on Shiki had increased sharply following her little performance during the clan meeting. Panda’s visit was just that: An excuse for the elders to oh-so-subtly escalate in their annoying, petty ways. 

Satoru had kept half an eye on the kids the entire time, and laughed when his little cousin finally got fed up with their antics and just headed indoors entirely. The elders probably hadn’t expected Kiyohira to change the sealing wards on his home to accept the entry of a cursed corpse doll; the chagrined looks on their faces when they realized that their spies had been rendered completely useless, ha!

For all that Shiki had yet to be formally tutored in any sort of politicking, she certainly seemed to have a natural sense for navigating this sort of thing. Or maybe it was mainly Yuzuki’s influence, hmm… 

Kiyohira exhales slowly. “Just… don’t make her your heir. Please.”

… Frankly speaking? Satoru is pretty sure that Shiki would make a great heir, going by her performance so far. Of course, she’s still a little too young to say for sure, but Satoru gets the feeling that she would be a lot more suitable for the position than he’d ever been… that is, if she ever decided that she wanted to step into the role. 

Which wasn’t looking very likely, alas, given the direction things looked to be headed in. Although, Satoru still has his hopes. It would be nice to have an heir who could work in tandem with him, but he’s not going to force his sweet little cousin into anything.

They’ve both had enough of that from the elders already.

Clan heir… 

In a sorcery clan, there are really only two conditions for being named the heir: Power, and blood. Shiki has the first part down, unquestionably. The elders might still be arguing themselves hoarse over the specifics of her abilities, but given her feat of killing a cursed god, there was no way for anyone to deny her potential. 

And as for her blood… Satoru couldn’t care less about her being from a minor branch family. The elders would probably kick up a major fuss about her not being from the main family and for having the audacity to be female on top of that… but really, what does that matter? 

… It might be for the best that he doesn’t stir that particular hornet’s nest right now, though. The elders were already losing their minds over his recent unexpected ascension as clan head; no need to add oil to the merrily-crackling fire by promptly naming the ‘blessed child’ as his heir immediately after. Satoru still needs his clan to be relatively intact while he’s busy dealing with the Zenin Clan for Megumi.

Part of him despises the fact that he has to clean up after Zenin Toji, ugh. But Toji is Toji, and Megumi is Megumi. Besides, practically speaking, if Megumi wants to stay out of the Zenin Clan’s greedy clutches –which the kid does– then these talks with the Zenin Clan are only inevitable. 

…

There are significant problems in jujutsu society, as backwards and stagnant as it is. Satoru would know; he grew up with a front-row seat to most of these problems. It hadn’t really struck him how serious and nigh-impossible it was to change things until Suguru left, but… he’s pretty sure that indiscriminate wholesale slaughter of non-sorcerers is not the solution to the problem. Or any problem, really.

He’s occasionally contemplated killing off all the higher-ups himself before, in order to force change. But as Tsukumo Yuki liked to say –there’s no sense in treating the symptom and not the cause.  

And that’s exactly what this is, isn’t it? If Satoru goes ahead and kills the higher echelons of the jujutsu world, then they’ll just be replaced by more of the exact same kind of people. The sorcery clans are full of Hisayasus and Takatomis and Daisakus who keep things running.

If Satoru wants to truly change things, then he needs to start from the bottom up. Megumi plays directly into those plans; it’s part of why Satoru is invested in making sure that the Zenins will keep their noses out.

And as for Shiki… 

“I won’t name her as my heir,” he says idly. Then, just as Kiyohira relaxes and sighs in relief, “Unless she asks me to.”

The man chokes. “What?”

Satoru cracks a smile.

Most of the elders definitely would not want Shiki to be the clan heir. It’s probably also another reason as to why they’ve been so jumpy recently. Not because of a lack of power –although there would certainly be those who would argue that it would be inappropriate for someone with a nontraditional clan technique to be named as heir– but because of various other factors:

Shiki being from a branch family. Shiki being a girl. Shiki very clearly being aligned with Satoru, and the elders have a vested interest in curtailing Satoru’s influence within the clan. If Shiki was already able to subvert Daisaku’s faction without him being any the wiser as she currently was, then what would she be capable of as the clan heir?

Oh, they’re definitely overthinking the entire situation, but that’s the thing about meddlesome elders. They always think they know what’s best, when the reality is another matter altogether.

Satoru taps his fingers against the table in a jaunty little rhythm as another thought suddenly occurs to him. “By the way, do you know what’s going on with Ima?”

“… Jihei is looking into it,” Kiyohira replies, letting go of the previous line of conversation. “Daisaku-sama forbade any contact between her and Shiki shortly after Shiki was given into my care.”

Satoru makes a vague sound of understanding in his throat. Typical Daisaku. 

… Ideally, Gojo Ima had finally come to her senses and realized that her niece was an adorable little girl instead of a useful tool for her ambitions. He’d leave it to Jihei to figure things out on his end. Even though the man was nominally Daisaku’s personal aide, it was obvious that he had a soft spot for little Shiki.

Heh.

“Aside from Ima and the ongoing matters with the Zenin Clan… Satoru-sama, have you decided on what you’ll be doing for Obon preparations yet?” Kiyohira shifts his weight, arms folding heavily across his chest. “The festival of Obon is coming up soon. As you know, each year one of the Three Great Families is in charge of the final okuribi in Kyoto. This year, it falls to the Gojo Clan. Typically, Takatomi-sama is the one who makes arrangements for the ritual, but…”

But Takatomi is stubborn and would happily use this opportunity to spite Satoru, or use it as a smokescreen to liaise and destabilize things with the Zenins behind his back. If it were Daisaku, Satoru would at least have confidence that Daisaku would be thinking of the Gojo Clan’s image first and foremost. But with Takatomi… things were a little trickier.

Still. “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be fine.”

Kiyohira does not look reassured in the least, how rude. 

Buuut that’s not his problem! 

“This isn’t a trivial matter, Satoru-sama,” the man frowns, his voice terse. “Obon is important, and this will be the Gojo Clan’s first public showing with you as clan head. If any mistakes are made during the ritual, it would tarnish the clan’s reputation –and yours along with it.”

“Oh, I know,” Satoru says, amused. “I’m not worried.”

“But the preparations– the ritual–” Kiyohira makes a frustrated sound. “The majority of experienced clansmen who are trained in traditional spellwork and ritualistic performances belong to Takatomi-sama’s line. We might get some amateur apprentices from them, but I’m not holding my breath for anything more than that.”

Yeah, that kind of pettiness sounds like it’s straight up Takatomi’s alley.

But even so–

“It’ll be alright,” Satoru smiles. “I have a few ideas in mind. And on that note, do you think Shiki might be interested in taking a trip to Kyoto?”

Chapter Text

The origins of Obon can be traced to the Ghost Festival of China. Which, in turn, is a festival with roots in the Taoist Zhongyuan and Buddhist Ullambana. Given how the very practice of jujutsu itself also holds heavy Buddhist influences, it’s unsurprising that the sorcery clans would naturally regard Obon with all the gravity and significance that such a festival was due.

“So Obon is really important?”

“It is, yes,” Shiki nods. Tsumiki-san makes a soft sound of understanding, while beside her Megumi-san… doesn’t visibly react, but it’s clear that he’s also listening intently to her words. “Obon is specifically meant to honor ancestral spirits and pay respect to the deceased.”

“I… erm, we wouldn’t really know much about that, actually,” Tsumiki-san scratches her cheek awkwardly. It’s understandable, though. Given how the Fushiguro siblings had been largely left to their own devices before Satoru-niichan found them, it makes sense that their knowledge of such traditions would be slightly lacking. “I just know that it’s a summer festival, lasts a few days, and there’s usually a lot of food! And dancing, too.”

The younger girl laughs sheepishly, waving off her embarrassment. 

“Well, that’s probably the usual impression,” Shiki concedes. 

Tsumiki-san smiles, eyes bright as she leans in closer. “Are you excited for it, then?”

“I… suppose,” Shiki responds slowly. Truth be told, she has only ever briefly glimpsed the flurry of preparations for Obon from the sidelines during previous years. Shiki has participated in the ritualistic chants and prayed in front of an altar, yes, but she has never actually gone out to participate in any of the actual festivities. Part of which also has to do with her particular situation under the purview of the Gojo Clan with her cursed eyes, she’s sure.

Shiki admits to some measure of idle curiosity on her part, but it is what it is. Compared to everything else, it’s a trivial matter to be bothered over, so Shiki has never bothered putting much of her attention towards this. 

That Satoru-niichan is bringing her with him to Kyoto for Obon, however, has her regretting her prior inattention. Hence her mad scramble to brush up on the relevant traditions and various ritualistic formulae for the festival, and later being joined by the Fushiguro siblings halfway through.

Shiki might not know why Satoru-niichan has decided to toss her a ceremonial performance role, but she knows that she does not want to mess this up. Granted, Satoru-niichan might not care even if she did… but Shiki cares!

… Even though she can’t quite pinpoint just why she even cares so much about this, exactly. It’s not as if Shiki is particularly concerned with upholding the Gojo Clan’s reputation, which is really what happens to be the most important thing at stake here this year.

“Is there anything in particular that you’re looking forward to? Any games that you like?” Tsumiki-san asks cheerily. “I like playing katanuki the most out of the festival games! Some people make it seem like it’s really easy to cut a flower or a star out of the candy, but it’s actually a lot harder than it looks.”

“Ah… no, there’s nothing of the sort that I have in mind,” Shiki says, perfectly candid and honest. She realizes half a beat too late that this probably isn’t the best response to that question, though, when Tsumiki-san’s expression falters. Shiki didn’t mean to kill the conversation! 

“I apologize,” she adds quickly, before any further misunderstandings can occur. “I’ve only attended the chants and prayers before, never the festivities, so I… don’t really…?”

Shiki trails off, mildly confused. 

For some reason, both of the Fushiguros are looking at her strangely in this moment. Megumi-san is openly making a face and frowning, while Tsumiki-san appears somewhat stricken, biting her lip.

“… Is everything alright?” Shiki asks, concerned. Was it something she said? Again?

Tsumiki-san snaps out of it quickly enough on her own, before Shiki can make heads or tails out of their strange reactions. The other girl shakes her head and squares her shoulders, her eyes firmly locking onto Shiki’s own. 

“We should go to the festival together!”

Shiki blinks, not missing a beat. “I appreciate it, but I can’t–”

Tsumiki-san instantly leans forward and clasps Shiki’s hands in her own, dark eyes wide with earnesty. 

“It’s really fun, I promise!” she coaxes imploringly, sincerely. “There are lots of stalls in the streets, where you can buy food or play games. Katanuki is one of them, but there are dozens of other games, too! Like ring-tossing and yo-yo fishing and goldfish scooping –you can also win prizes from all of them! I’ve never been to Kyoto before, either, but I’ll bet they have really pretty lanterns along the streets and–”

The other girl’s words wash over Shiki in a rambling tide. Part of her knows that she should be paying attention to what Tsumiki-san is saying, but somehow Shiki instead finds herself staring down at where Tsumiki-san’s hands are clasped over her own.

Shiki’s cursed technique being what it is, no one aside from Satoru-niichan –and Kento-jichan– ever voluntarily reaches out to her like this. 

It’s strange.

She doesn’t know what to make of it. 

Tsumiki-san’s hands are… warm. Soft. Did Shiki’s hands ever use to be soft like this? She doesn’t remember anymore. Tsumiki-san’s palms and fingers feel soft against her own. There are no scars, no calluses. Tsumiki-san’s hands are nothing like hers.

Shiki continues staring.

“–so what do you say?” Tsumiki-san finishes, slightly breathless. It takes a moment for Shiki to register that the other girl has actually finished talking and is waiting for her response, but in that same moment Tsumiki-san seems to have realized that Shiki was staring, and promptly releases her grip on Shiki’s hands.

“S-Sorry for getting a little carried away!” Tsumiki-san hastily apologizes, flushing slightly in embarrassment. Beside her, her brother scoffs, which promptly earns him an elbow to the ribs, courtesy of his sister. 

Megumi-san rubs at his side, faintly chagrined, then turns towards Shiki. “So? Are you going to come with us to see the festival?”

The white-haired girl shakes her head. “No. It’s not permitted for–”

“Do you want to?” the boy cuts her off, pointedly. 

Shiki pauses.

… There are very few things that Shiki truly wants. She wants the elders to stop making any clan-related political schemes involving her. She wants Satoru-niichan to get a full night’s sleep. She wants to spend Obon with Kento-jichan. She wants to see him. She wants to see him every day.

But none of what she wants will ever happen, especially when she doesn’t possess the strength to reach out and take it by herself with her own two hands. Her time with the Gojo Clan has taught her that much, at least.

Does Shiki want to join the festivities during Obon?

She… doesn’t know. Does she? 

Food and games don’t matter much to her. The food that the Gojo Clan provides is good, and Shiki doesn’t care too much for games. They’re fun, of course, and she enjoys her time with Panda. Panda is a joy to be around. But it’s something that she knows she can also do perfectly fine without, no matter how adamant Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san seem to feel otherwise about it on her behalf, mystifyingly enough.

“Would you join us for Obon, Shiki?” Tsumiki’s voice is soft. Earnest. “Please?”

… She shouldn’t. It’s not permitted. There’s a reason why the Gojo Clan has been doing their best to keep Shiki in the clan compound, and there’s a reason why sorcerers generally don’t participate in large-scale festivals like this in the first place.

But… 

“If you insist on going, then you’re going to have to sneak out,” Shiki says after a long pause. Actually, now that she’s really thinking about it, it’s vanishingly unlikely that the Fushiguro siblings would succeed on their own at sneaking out to the festival. Unless they can somehow get Satoru-niichan’s approval, but Satoru-niichan is so busy these days –dealing with the elders, the Zenin Clan, and having to sort out Obon preparations on top of that– and Shiki also doubts that they would be able to ask Satoru-niichan without any of the elders becoming aware of it. 

And, should any of the elders learn of this, they would definitely do their level best to arrange things so that the children would obediently stay put. Even Shiki doesn’t have the confidence to reach Satoru-niichan without alerting any of the elders at this juncture in time… come to think of it, the elders would probably be a lot more concerned about Shiki looking for her cousin than the Fushuguros doing the same.

Hmm.

Shiki glances up and across towards the Fushiguro siblings. Tsumiki-san’s eyes are bright, hopeful. Megumi-san… is looking off to the side in apparent disinterest, but his hands are pressed together on his lap, fingers tapping anxiously against each other.

Keep an eye out for them from your end too, yeah? Unprompted and unbidden, Satoru-niichan’s voice echoes in her ears. 

And Shiki…

…

“Only for an hour,” she finally acquiesces. “We’ll attend the festivities for only an hour. Would that… be alright?”

Tsumiki-san grins, a blindingly bright expression, and even Megumi-san seems to perk up a bit, straightening in his seat.

Well. 

That’s that, then, Shiki supposes.

.

.

In its entirety, Obon lasts for three days. 

Like she’d mentioned to the Fushiguros –Obon is, at its core, a festival that honors the dead.

During the three days of the festival, the first is when deceased spirits return to the mortal realm, guided by mukaebi. These small, individual bonfires are lit in front of one’s home for the express purpose of guiding spirits home. Horses and cows made from cucumbers and eggplants are also set out to ensure a “swift return” and “slow parting.” Graves are cleaned, and prayers are made.

Then, the second day is for ritual mourning. Some people would invite priests to their homes, or head out to visit temples and shrines. The second day is meant for remembrance.

And finally, the third day is when Obon comes to a close, and departed spirits return to the netherworld once more. The okuribi is the last event, as the “send-off fire.” 

To most people, Obon is merely a celebration of family reunions. It’s simply a time to come together and pay respects to their ancestors. To cherish those who are still living, as they make merry in the nighttime festivities.

For sorcerers, it’s a rather different case.

It’s one thing to receive a harmless ‘visit’ from a regular spirit. But to be visited by the spirit of a deceased sorcerer? The majority of whom all died horribly painful, grotesque, traumatic deaths in the line of duty? Sorcerers who were set apart from non-sorcerers by their high level of cursed energy? Who risked becoming cursed spirits themselves in death if they were not killed properly?

Obon was considered to be a delicate time in the jujutsu world, and for good reason.

Every step of the pacification rituals had to be perfect. The purification ceremonies. The calming chants. After all, the very last thing that anyone wanted was for a cursed spirit to be born from the collective pain and suffering from countless generations’ worth of deceased sorcerers. It was a thin risk, but one that nonetheless could not be overlooked.

The dead should be allowed to rest.

Shiki arrives at Kyoto with the rest of the Gojo Clan entourage a week before Obon begins. There are quite a lot of preparations to be done –the majority of which do not require Shiki’s direct involvement, small mercies– and everything is a bustling hub of activity. Shiki only glimpses Satoru-niichan once during this entire mess, and is given a brisk headpat, before her cousin and clan head is off and moving once more.

As for Shiki? She’s meant to continue studying up and practicing for the role that she is responsible for on the last day, the okuribi. Which she does study and practice for; this is something that Satoru-niichan has asked of her, after all.

On the first day, Shiki does everything that is expected of her. The chants, the prayers. Splashing water over gravestones that she does not recognize. Kento-jichan will be visiting the Nanami family grave on his own this year, since Shiki is away in Kyoto. 

As the twilight turns to dusk on the second day, Shiki follows through on what she’d promised the Fushiguro siblings. 

“What is that?” Tsumiki-san asks, leaning curiously over Shiki’s shoulder. “You’re… cutting paper? Little paper people?”

“Yes,” Shiki replies. She sets down her scissors, and gingerly picks up the little paper cutouts. Concentrates, and carefully twists her cursed energy into them just so–

Tsumiki-san gasps delightedly when the loosely people-shaped slips of paper leap up in Shiki’s hands, and begin moving on their own. “That’s so cool!”

It is?

“… Thank you? It’s just an elementary paper shikigami spell, and it has nothing on proper shikigami binding,” Shiki sets the newly-made paper shikigami down on the table. “Yuzuki-san and I sometimes use them to run messages to each other, but in this case, I imbued them with a… presence, you could say. So long as no one opens the door to this room, they’ll think the three of us are still inside.”

To… to be perfectly honest, Shiki isn’t entirely sure if the other girl is even paying attention to her explanation anymore. Tsumiki-san currently looks to be completely engrossed by the animated paper shikigami. The brown-haired girl pokes one of them gingerly, and giggles when the paper cutout pretends to collapse dramatically, before rolling into a small tube and rising back to its feet.

A quick glance towards Megumi-san confirms the same reaction; the boy is also staring intently at the paper silhouettes, with a genuine sense of curiosity and wonder about him. 

Which is more than a little weird, considering that the Ten Shadows is said to be the most powerful shikigami cursed technique in the recorded history of jujutsu.

Why are they reacting like this? The two of them have been with the Gojo Clan for a while at this point –surely this isn’t their first time seeing a jujutsu art?

Something to look into, perhaps, after the hectic mess of Obon is over.

“… Would you still be interested in heading out to the festival?”

The siblings’ heads jerk up simultaneously in tandem.

“Yes! Yes, we are, sorry,” Tsumiki-san scrambles up to her feet, clumsily mirrored by her little brother.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Shiki says. 

And then, they’re off. 

It doesn’t take too long to arrive. The temporary dwellings that the Gojo Clan has in Kyoto aren’t located too far from the city proper, and the lanterns lining the streets show a clear path to the festival stalls. There are many people out and about, smiling and laughing, and… 

It feels strange, standing amid so many people like this. 

Shiki… really isn’t used to standing in crowded areas. In the Gojo Clan, she and Kiyohira-sensei were often left to their own devices for training, with individual tutors for various other subjects rotating through. On missions, it’s usually the assisting Window who deals with clarifying mission details and consoling surviving victims in the aftermath. 

Furthermore, being in the middle of a crowd makes Shiki acutely aware that she is different. No one in the Gojo Clan stares at her anymore. But here and now in the streets of Kyoto, there are passersby who keep glancing at her, their attentions undoubtedly caught by the sight of strange white hair and unnatural blue eyes… if not outright disturbed by the distinct echo of cursed–

“Is everything alright?”

Shiki blinks. Tsumiki-san has doubled back for her, and the smile on the other girl’s face is fading rapidly, replaced by something that looks much more concerned.

“It’s… nothing.” Part of Shiki is sorely regretting everything right now, but she’d given her word to the Fushiguro siblings that she would attend the festivities here with them. It’s only for an hour, she reminds herself. She’ll live. 

Tsumiki-san frowns, biting her lip as she looks at Shiki. Then something finally seems to click in her mind; the girl promptly swivels around to take in their surroundings. There are a few people who immediately drop their gazes and look aside, clearly embarrassed to have been caught staring so obviously, but others clearly have no such compunctions. 

At this point, even Megumi-san catches on to what’s happening. The boy scowls at a man who is particularly blatant about the staring, which makes them give a small jolt in surprise.

It’s sweet, but, “It’s nothing to be concerned about, really. Shouldn’t you be enjoying the festival?”

… For some reason, this only makes Tsumiki-san frown even harder. 

Shiki doesn’t understand. She knows that the Fushiguro siblings have been looking forward to Obon festivities, Tsumiki-san more so than Megumi-san, so didn’t it only make sense for them to go ahead and enjoy themselves now that they were finally here? To make the most of their time? They’ll only be here for an hour, after all, so wouldn’t it be–

“Wait here,” Tsumiki-san says firmly, and turns on her heel, taking off at a brisk run as she disappears into the crowd.

Shiki stares blankly for a moment, then makes to follow–

“Just wait here,” Megumi-san tugs her back by the sleeve of her blue yukata, and sighs. “She’ll be back before you know it.”

“It’s best for us to stay together,” Shiki murmurs distractedly, preoccupied by the task of keeping track of the other girl. Tsumiki-san does not possess the ability to become a sorcerer, which makes it difficult to follow her solely by cursed energy.

The younger boy tilts his head. “We’re not helpless. Tsumiki and I were completely fine on our own even before Gojo-san came along.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Truthfulness of Megumi-san’s words aside, Shiki is less concerned about Tsumiki-san getting lost and more concerned about her being jumped by a stray cursed spirit, or something along those lines. While curses were typically drawn to areas saturated with negative emotions, large-scale events such as festivals still ran a slight risk, since they involved the sharp intensity from heightened emotions. Another reason why it wasn’t wise to be out and about on their own like this, but… 

Ah. Tsumiki-san is returning, looking none the worse for wear.

“Look!” The girl skids to a stop in front of them, slightly breathless. Tsumiki-san looks up with a grin, “I got masks for all three of us!”

Shiki has seen various painted masks before. Not at festivals, but on several occasions within the Gojo Clan, when certain rituals called for them. The white fox masks that Tsumiki-san is holding in her arms are nowhere near as fine as the ones that Shiki is used to, cheap plastic instead of lacquered wood or porcelain. If Tsumiki-san liked masks, she’d would be able to find something better with the Gojo–

“I think that if you tie up your hair and wear a mask to hide your eyes, then maybe people will stop staring so much,” Tsumiki-san explains. “That way, you can enjoy the festival normally , too!”

… Oh. 

Is that… the reason why she suddenly ran off? 

Shiki slowly takes one of the plastic fox masks proffered out to her, unsure of what to think. While being stared at is… discomfiting, it’s nothing that she can’t deal with. She can ignore it, it’s no big deal. Satoru-niichan turns heads no matter where he goes, and given their similar colorings, Shiki is resigned to the very real possibility that things may be the same for her in the future as well.

Tsumiki-san had brought back three separate masks, one for each of them. But the fact that she thought to get them specifically because of Shiki in the first place? Because she wanted Shiki to be… comfortable?

It’s…

The little girl stares at the mask in her hands. The smiling fox-face stares back at her, swirling lines of red and black dark against the white backdrop. 

Shiki quietly affixes the mask to her face, and murmurs a quiet ‘thank you’ when Tsumiki-san hands her a hair tie and some extra hair pins. 

(Where did the other girl even get these? Did she already have them on her, or had she gotten additional hair accessories while she’d been acquiring the masks?)

Long hair is a hassle to put up, but Shiki is used to working with its length. It would be easier with a comb, but it’s not too hard to gather up the loose strands by hand and twist it all into a semi-neat bun at the back of her head. Tsumiki-san’s hair pins help greatly.

And it… works.

With her hair tucked in and no longer flowing out behind her, and with her eyes mostly-hidden by the mask… there aren’t as many glances directed her way, once they step back out into the festival streets. 

Even so, the fox mask is cold and hard against her face. Part of Shiki wants to take it off already, but that’s actually less due to the discomfort and more because it greatly restricts her field of view, which is inconvenient. But she can admit that it’s… nice, not having to worry about unnecessary attention directed towards her. And it seems to make Tsumiki-san happy as well, so Shiki leaves the mask on as she follows the Fushiguro siblings in a winding path through the festival stalls.

And there are many stalls lining the streets. The air is rich with the scents of various delicious-smelling foods, many of which Shiki struggles to place. She knows familiar ones like takoyaki and yakitori, but there are a number of them that she does not recognize. Tsumiki-san merrily skips ahead again and comes back with three sticks of dango, pressing one into Shiki’s hand with no room for refusal and handing off another to Megumi-san just as easily.

Shiki hesitates. Then, she cautiously lifts up the bottom of her mask and tentatively bites into the rice flour dumpling. 

It’s… sweet. Shiki isn’t particularly fond of sweets, by and large, and if she’s being perfectly honest, the taste is nothing special. But even so, for some reason she… doesn’t dislike it.

How odd. Was there actually something else to it, other than just ‘sweet?’ 

Shiki takes another mouthful and chews a little more slowly this time. 

It’s sweet.

She bites into it again, feeling baffled.

“Good, isn’t it?” Tsumiki-san’s voice sounds excitedly beside her ear. Good isn’t exactly the word that Shiki would use, but somehow it’s… “There’s also kakigori! I wonder what flavors they have for their shaved ice… oh! Look, look, castella cakes!”

The other girl takes off at a run for the castella stall. Shiki takes another bite of her dango, trying and failing to pinpoint why this particular sweetness isn’t something that she’s averse to.

“Aren’t there any stalls that you’re interested in?” Megumi-san asks her as he wanders back with a small box of takoyaki in his hands, and several toothpicks. He skewers one of the fried octopus balls and hands it out to Shiki, who accepts it mechanically. “You haven’t gone for any of them.”

“… I’m good. It’s… a little overwhelming,” she admits distractedly. It’s a lot to keep track of with her senses. There are so many stalls, and so many people present; both shopkeepers and festival-goers alike. So many people, much more than Shiki could ever have anticipated when Tsumiki-san brought up the idea of coming to see the festivities in the first place. 

And for all that she’s ostensibly here to enjoy herself with the Fushiguro siblings, it’s never once slipped Shiki’s mind that her foremost priority is to keep a careful hold on her cursed energy and watch for–

“Castella!” Tsumiki-san returns triumphantly with a small platter of bite-sized castella cakes. “These are really good; here, try one!”

“Thank you,” Shiki says politely. The castella is… even sweeter than the too-sweet dango. But the texture is nice, airy and fluffy, and it makes her think–

“… Can we bring some back for Satoru-niichan?” And maybe some for Kiyohira-sensei and Jihei-san as well. Shiki would also like to bring some back for Yuzuki-san, but she knows that the sickly boy has a strictly-controlled dietary intake, due to his fragile health. Maybe there was something else that they could bring back for him instead?

“That’s a great idea!” Tsumiki-san brightens, “Wait here, I’ll be right back!”

The girl spins and dashes into the crowd once more. Dark brown hair fans out behind her, blazing a fiery gold-crimson for a split second beneath the lantern-light. The colors blend perfectly with the red yukata that she is wearing, patterned with white and yellow flowers as it is. A perfect match with the white-gold hem of Megumi-san’s own yukata, as he follows after his sister.

“Come on! Let’s check out the games, too!”

… As it turns out, Shiki is absolutely miserable at the candy-cutting game that Tsumiki-san is so enthusiastic for. She’s given a rectangular square of hard candy with the faint outline of a cat, and instructed to use a toothpick to carve out the round cat-face. It sounds simple, but–

The entire square of candy turns into candy dust beneath her hands in a heartbeat.

“Huh, that’s a new one,” the middle-aged man running the stall scratches his head, casting a faintly nervous look towards her.

… While Shiki is capable of controlling her perception so that her world isn’t perpetually full of gleaming red lines, this does not mean that they are any less present. Which means that accidentally severing lines she does not mean to cut remains a very real concern. And given that she had been using the sharp point of a toothpick to try and cut a specific shape… 

“How did you even do that with a toothpick?”

Shiki shrugs noncommittally in lieu of an actual response. 

Tsumiki-san glances down at the five-pointed star she’d carved from her own square of candy, looks towards Shiki’s pile of candy dust again, and winces. “Um… want to try again? You just need to be a little gentler with how you use the toothpick to cut it!”

“I appreciate the advice,” the white-haired girl sighs as she sets down her toothpick, “But I think discretion is the better part of valor, in this case.”

“Ah, you really think so? That’s a shame, I was rather hoping to see you try again.”

Shiki whirls around.

When did someone–? 

Who–

A dark-haired woman smiles down at her, a stranger whom Shiki does not recognize and had not even sensed coming up behind her; she most certainly hadn’t been standing there before when Shiki first sat down.

“No need to look at me like that,” the woman laughs, and takes an empty seat beside them. Shiki doesn’t take her eyes off of her for a single second, not even when the lady flashes her another disarming smile.

It’s… it’s hard to explain. The dark-haired woman smiles and laughs, and it’s a perfectly normal, natural expression. But there’s something about it that sets Shiki on edge regardless, and that unsettles her more than she would like to admit. 

Beneath the sleeve of her yukata, Shiki’s fingers linger over the hilt of a knife. Megumi-san is currently off getting something for his sister from one of the food stalls –she hopes that the younger boy takes his time and does not come back too soon.

“I truly mean no harm, my dear, and I’m sorry if I startled you,” the strange woman makes no indication of having noticed Shiki’s movements as she continues smiling. She reaches up, casually running a hand through her hair, and for a single instant Shiki glimpses a line of stitches in what seems to be a neat circle around her head. But it’s only for a brief moment, before the woman’s bangs fall back down and cover everything behind a dark curtain once more. 

“To be honest, I actually didn’t expect to come across you so early here,” she says conspiratorially. “Having fun skirting your clan’s rules, are we?”

That confirms it, then. This woman knows who Shiki is beneath the paltry disguise offered by the white fox mask, and she also knows that Shiki is here without the Gojo Clan’s permission. 

The little girl blinks, and shifts her perspective in a way that’s almost second nature by this point. Red lines unfurl before her eyes in a heartbeat. 

And in front of her, the woman is no different. 

Just like any other person, there are dozens upon dozens of lines scored across her body, over her arms and around her torso. But… perhaps unsurprisingly, the lines are most densely concentrated around her head. So much so that it was difficult to see her face like this anymore, when Shiki was observing the lines in the world around her.

Was it something to do with the woman’s cursed technique, perhaps? But that didn’t seem quite right, either. The lines… the colors… 

“What do you mean, skirting the rules?”

Shiki tenses when Tsumiki-san’s unwitting voice pipes up between them, drawing the stranger’s attention.

The woman’s gaze slides to Tsumiki-san, whose head is tilted curiously towards them. “Well, you usually don’t see sorcerers attending festivals like this, and the clans tend to be rather strict about keeping their sorcerers away and out.”

The brown-haired girl frowns, glancing briefly towards Shiki for a split-second, “Really? Why?”

“You don’t know?” The sorcerer’s voice is clearly amused. “… No, I suppose you wouldn’t, given that you’re only a regular human. Do you know what cursed energy is, at least?”

“Y-yes,” the other girl nods. “It’s… you need it to be a sorcerer, right?”

“Something like that,” the woman responds with a vague wave of her hand. “The basic requirement for becoming a sorcerer is possessing the ability to see curses. This requires a certain threshold of cursed energy, which most humans lack. But even though the vast majority of people lack the cursed energy that’s necessary for clear vision, they still notice when a sorcerer walks amongst them. So it means that–”

“That’s enough.”

“… Shiki?” Tsumiki-san looks towards her, confused. However, Shiki does not allow herself to be distracted, and remains focused on the new arrival in their midst.

“Why are you here?” Shiki asks straightforwardly, “And who are you?”

The woman leans forward and props her arm against the table, chin resting easily on her hand. “Me? I was just passing my time with this festival while I waited on an acquaintance.”

Acquaintance? This woman was waiting for someone? At the Obon festival?

“Imagine my surprise, then, when I noticed something interesting,” she murmurs with a gleam to her eyes. She lifts her hand and reaches out towards Shiki, who finally fully grips the knife beneath her sleeve. “Y’know, I wonder if I can–”

“Kaori.”

The unexpected voice that suddenly cuts through the air is deep, masculine. Tinged with a hint of something that’s both reproachful and… warning, almost. But Shiki doesn’t have long to dwell on that, as a new arrival suddenly steps in between them.

Shiki hadn’t noticed his imminent presence, either.

The man is tall. His dark-colored hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, with loose bangs framing the sides of his face. There is something distinctly heavy and dispirited to the air around him, although Shiki struggles to describe it in words. It’s not grief, there is a sense of… silence. Solitude.

Which is a sharp contrast to the buoyant air of bustling festival-goers around them, some of whom are beginning to shift uneasily while others abandon all subtlety in distancing themselves and giving an even wider berth to their corner of the table.

Shiki clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

“Ah, there you are,” the woman waves amicably to the man, but makes no indication that she’s about to stand up to leave. “I was beginning to think that you were going to stand me up! Good thing I’ve found some interesting company on my own, wouldn’t you say?”

“I apologize,” the man says. Not to the woman –Kaori, had he called her?– but to Shiki. Still, she does not allow herself to lower her guard. “She should not have approached you. We will be taking our leave now.”

‘Kaori’ sighs, a put-upon sound. “You never change, Souren. Must you cut my fun short? I haven’t even–”

“Remember your promises,” the man says gravely. “A sorcerer who goes back on their given word–”

The woman raises her hands in a clear gesture of surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright! I wouldn’t have done anything –like I said, I was only curious.”

“Rein in your curiosity, then,” the man responds flatly. “Come, let us depart. I would discuss business with you elsewhere.”

“Really? You’re in that much of a hurry to get me out of here?” Sounding amused, the woman finally stands up. But instead of leaving immediately, she looks back down towards Shiki.

“Sadly, it looks like we’ll have to cut things short tonight. But it was a pleasure to meet you all the same, Gojo Shiki. I look forward to seeing you again in the future,” she smiles. Pauses, and glances over at Tsumiki-san, almost as an afterthought. “And… you as well, Fushiguro Tsumiki. Say hello to your brother for me too, won’t you?”

“What–?”

Shiki takes it all in with a cold eye, not saying a single word while Tsumiki-san rears back in confusion. Kaori shakes her head with another small laugh as she strides away, followed by Souren who gives Shiki a perfunctory nod before he turns to follow her.

And then they’re gone, swiftly swallowed up by the ebb and flow of passing festival-goers beneath the evening lantern-light.

Shiki does not relax her grip on her knives even after the two suspicious sorcerers are long out of sight.

“Is… is everything alright?”

… Nothing happened. They had not been attacked, nor had the woman actually done anything untoward; neither had her acquaintance, for that matter. But… the way she’d approached them, the comments she had made, the sense of wrongness that Shiki had felt… 

…

A sorcerer trusts their instincts. 

“… Maybe I should’ve done a little more than just leaving a note with the paper shikigami when we left,” the girl mutters to herself. If only it was easier to get ahold of Satoru-niichan without alerting any of the clan elders at the same time… 

“Shiki?”

“Yes?” She blinks back to attention, turning towards Tsumiki-san at the call of her name. The other girl looks… concerned. 

“Are you okay?” Tsumiki-san reaches out a hesitant hand to her. “Who was… who were those people? Do we need to call anyone?”

“No,” Shiki shakes her head. There is no one to call at the festival –there wasn’t much that a non-sorcerer civilian could do against two sorcerers like that, if push came to shove. Shiki might not have their full measure, but going by her instincts… it might’ve been difficult, if the situation had actually come to blows. Which definitely would’ve caused a lot of trouble in regards to the ongoing festival and Obon as a whole, which meant that Satoru-niichan would–

“Um, can I ask…” Tsumiki-san’s voice falters for a moment, before firming as she continues with her question. “What did that lady mean, earlier? When she… when she said that sorcerers aren’t supposed to be here at the festival? I mean, she’s a sorcerer too, isn’t she?”

The girl shakes her head dismissively, “It’s nothing important.”

“Please. I’d like to know.”

Shiki regards Tsumiki-san quietly for a moment. “… It’s about the cursed energy. That’s why you don’t usually see sorcerers attending festivals of any kind, least of all Obon.”

“Wait, what?” The dark-haired girl’s brows furrow together in confusion, “I don’t understand.”

“Look around us, Tsumiki-san,” Shiki gestures patiently to their surroundings. Their distinctly empty surroundings –their corner of the table is very pointedly clear and devoid of people, despite the other tables being full and packed with festival-goers picking at their own candy squares with toothpicks. A very clear indication of something off, and one that the other girl finally seems to be picking up on herself, if her wide-eyed look of bewilderment now that she notices is any sign of things.

“Most people are… unsettled, in the presence of cursed energy.” How does she explain this? How had her tutors explained this to her, again? Shiki doesn’t understand it very well herself, but it’s probably– 

“Like when a person feels scared or uneasy in a hospital, or a cemetery,” she attempts to articulate. “Even if they can’t use cursed energy themselves, they still know when something is wrong. It’s part of the reason why a significant number of unaffiliated sorcerers end up becoming curse users; it’s a rare sorcerer who’s able to fit themselves in as a regular member of society…”

Wait, no, she’s getting sidetracked. Tsumiki-san’s question had been, specifically, ‘Why don’t sorcerers attend festivals?’

Shiki coughs, lightly clearing her throat to hide her embarrassment. “So, sorcerers usually don’t attend festivals because of the potential effect they have on non-sorcerer civilians. It’s especially sensitive if it’s a festival like Obon –if too many people were to be negatively affected by the cursed energy, it could potentially disrupt the festival as a whole, and that would be… not ideal, to say the least.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tsumiki-san looks distressed. “Is that… is that why you didn’t want to come at first?”

“Yes,” Shiki admits. There’s no point in hiding it anymore, and Tsumiki-san had said that she’d wanted to know, so… “Cursed energy has a way of affecting everything in its surroundings. Humans included. So it’s not wise for sorcerers to come to festivals like this. But as long as it’s… limited, in terms of duration, the repercussions can be appropriately managed and reduced to a minimum.”

Hence why Shiki had specified one hour, and had honestly been more preoccupied keeping track of the Fushiguro siblings and the cursed energy in the air than exploring the festival herself. Megumi-san was more of a concern than Tsumiki-san, given that the boy still couldn’t control his cursed energy very well, so Shiki had been keeping an extra eye on him as well. 

But still, even despite her distractions, it shouldn’t have meant that other sorcerers could easily sneak up on her without her noticing at all until they’d spoken up directly behind her. Just who was this ‘Kaori’ and ‘Souren,’ that they could–?

“I-I’m sorry, I never knew. I mean, I remember that you tried to stop us, but I didn’t think…” Tsumiki-san swallows roughly. “I didn’t realize that sorcerers weren’t supposed to come. I-It’s never been an issue in the past, Megumi and I have been to festivals together plenty of times before!”

“Perhaps,” Shiki allows. One child sorcerer, even a particularly gifted one, likely wouldn’t cause too much of a disturbance on their own, not immediately after coming into their cursed technique. But… “Can you really say that you haven’t noticed Megumi-san’s cursed energy affecting any non-sorcerers around him, though? When you visit a festival stall together, are there people who avoid talking to him and address you instead? Are there people who seem to be uncomfortable around him, but are perfectly fine if it’s you?”

With each example she throws out, Tsumiki-san seems to lose a bit of color in her face.

“I… thought that was just his personality,” she swallows roughly, her voice barely above a quiet whisper. 

Shiki hums. 

“That’s possible too, I suppose. Megumi-san isn’t exactly very friendly,” she allows. And honestly, neither is Shiki herself, for that matter. She’s peripherally aware that her own demeanor is oftentimes considered… off-putting. As Kiyohira-sensei had once commiserated with Jihei-san over, Shiki’s personality is apparently an ‘acquired taste,’ whatever that means. Probably not anything complimentary. “But I believe I’ve made my point. You’re his sister –you should know these things regarding Megumi-san very well.”

Indeed, it seems that Tsumiki-san knows things very well, if the look of dawning horror and guilt that filters through her expression is any indication to go by. 

There’s only so much that can be explained away by an unpersonable personality, after all.

“Don’t blame yourself, Tsumiki-san,” Shiki says after a beat of silence, not entirely unsympathetically. “You didn’t know anything about cursed energy before. And… you seem to be rather resilient against the influence of cursed energy yourself. I’m sure Megumi-san appreciates your company more than he allows himself to admit.” 

He wouldn’t have asked Satoru-niichan to make sure to keep his sister out of the Zenin Clan’s hands, otherwise.

Tsumiki-san nods mutely, but still seems distressed. Shiki mentally grasps for more words to console the other girl with, but ends up drawing a blank on this front. What else is there to say?

… Maybe she would’ve been better off not having explained anything in the first place. But Tsumiki-san had asked, and–

“I’m back! The line was a lot longer than I expected.” Megumi-san suddenly slides into an empty seat beside them, holding a steaming plate of okonomiyaki in his hands. Then flounders in panic, as Tsumiki-san suddenly turns and grabs him in a tight hug without a single word.

The boy’s eyes narrow, and cut accusingly to Shiki. “Did something happen? What did I miss?”

“… Nothing important,” Shiki responds, and reaches over to take a piece of the okonomiyaki for herself. Despite her evident distress, Tsumiki-san’s energies had settled significantly upon catching sight of Megumi-san. Things would turn out alright between them.

Probably. 

… Maybe she should ask Yuzuki-san for advice about this at a later point, just to be sure. The older boy would definitely have a better idea of things than her, and Shiki had promised Satoru-niichan that she would look out for the Fushiguro siblings.

Her cousin would pout at her if Shiki ‘broke’ either of the Fushiguro children, no matter how unintentionally it was on her part.

.

.

Surprisingly –or perhaps, not so surprisingly– Tsumiki-san gives a watery smile and not-so-subtly suggests that it’s about time for them to be heading back, after the three of them leave the katanuki stall together. Originally, Shiki had expected them to stay out for the full hour, but considering their run-in with the suspicious ‘Kaori’ and her associate, and the conversation that had taken place afterwards… 

Suffice to say, there’s certainly been enough excitement for one night.

Shiki follows a few steps behind the Fushiguro siblings, and it’s a good thing that she does, because she is the only one who sees it.

Sudden movement, out of the corner of her eye. Something shimmering–

Shiki reacts instantly. The girl steps forward and nudges a startled Megumi-san aside, then reaches out to grab Tsumiki-san’s arm and tugs the other girl away as she does so. A knife drops down into her other hand as she braces herself, and–

Water splashes down harmlessly onto the ground where they’d been standing only moments prior. 

Shiki blinks.

There’s no cursed energy imbued in it at all. Rather, is that… fish?

“Maki! That’s not how you catch goldfish!” A childish voice shouts. A young girl runs up to them –dark hair cut short, wearing a yellow yukata– and bows profusely in apology. “I-I’m sorry for my sister, she didn’t mean to–”