Chapter Text
Kenjaku was not unfamiliar to the slightly bitter taste of setbacks. On many occasions, in any of her unnatural lives, she’s experienced firsthand how easily a plan may come apart. How life’s stumbling blocks always seemed eager to materialize in her path. Losing a good amount of Sukuna’s fingers centuries ago, being bisected by the Six Eyes of ages past because she had “accidently” dissected their little brother, and Jin telling her the brand of yogurt she likes was sold out before he got to the store are but a few examples. Yes, the Millenium Sorcerer was acutely aware that somethings don’t always go one’s way. No matter what kind of meticulous preparations are made. But this particular failure is borderline ridiculous.
“I would’ve preferred a stillborn over this,” Kenjaku said aloud, uncaring if the small child before her heard her or not.
The boy in front of her couldn’t have been no more than four years old; in itself the latest mistake on a long list of experiments and hypotheses. His hair as pitch black as her current body’s own strands, though his was more unruly and stringy. With that soft, pink flush on his skin, and those charcoal almost-purple eyes staring up at her, Kenjaku might’ve mistaken him for your average toddler. If, of course, he didn’t have a stark, black blood mark running in a horizontal line across the bridge of his nose.
Oh, and if she hadn't just used her cursed energy to give life to a 150-year-old fetus she kept in her basement.
Caught unawares as he was by being born again, the half-cursed spirit finally seemed to take in his surroundings. The sorcerer watched with disinterest as her little experiment got a good look at her makeshift office/lab. His eyes scanned over the bookshelf that Jin's Father had gifted her after she asked (cajoled) him for it. Its shelfs lined with a myriad of jarred samples from various subjects she had encountered; spirit or otherwise. From there his gaze shifted to the desk up against the wall; stacked with research papers and related literature. Finally, she watched as his eyes settled on her, dressed in her usual black long sleeve and equally dark pants; a lab coat not buttoned all the way closed worn over it. He didn’t seem perturbed by the trace amounts of blood on the white cuffs.
“Mama?”
“Your mother is dead,” the sorcerer’s words struck out. She wasn’t even being hostile, merely stating the facts of the matter, but it caused the boy’s eyes to harden. Clearly, he didn’t care for this truth.
“Liar. You’re a liar! Mama isn’t dead!”
She silently hoped Yuji wouldn’t be so incorrigible when he reached this age. There was a quiet rustle as she took off her lab coat. Walking over to her desk, she placed it over the back of her chair before taking a seat. She rested one leg over the other and then raised on arm at the bookshelf. Small eyes looked towards where she pointed.
“She’s as inanimate as the flesh in those jars. Only her body probably didn’t have the luxury of being preserved as well.”
The crying started immediately after she said this. A low whine quickly turning into blubbering wails. His little lungs trying their best to keep up with the sobs. Cries for “mama” or “little brothers” interlacing his earnest agony. Kenjaku scoffed at the unabashed display. This was not at all what she had hoped for. Perhaps she can be rid of him. Though she hoped for a guardian for her son, it’s obvious the Cursed Wombs won’t live up to her expectation. Oh well, suppose she’ll craft something else. This is what she gets for recycling old projects. Now, it’s best she gets rid of it before-
“Jaku? I’m coming down with Yuji. He’s fussing more than usual. Pretty sure he’s asking for you.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose when she heard her husband open the door to the basement. Every step he took down that short flight of stairs an immediate reminder that she should start locking it behind her. Well, at least the addition of a third voice stopped the boy’s incessant crying.
Jin walked right on over to where his wife sat. An easy, content smile on his bespectacled face all the while. True to his word their son was fussing up a storm in his arms. The mother shifted her chair slightly to grab Yuji from him. Accepting him into her embrace with a gentleness reserved for him, and perhaps Jin at times. The father of one’s eyes were filled with warmth at the sight of his son clinging so happily to his mother. He never got tired of it. He did however get tired of Kenjaku’s little surprises in the form of unexpected experiments.
“So,” Itadori Jin started with a hint of exasperation, “mind explaining the child in my basement?”
“We made him, remember? Knocked me up on the first try and everything.”
“Kenjaku.”
Jin crossed his arms at his wife, who was currently raising Yuji into the air to elicit a few giggles from him. Kenjaku knew that tone well enough. Her dearest partner in the experiment that was their little family wasn’t in the mood for her jokes. Pity, she thought they were rather good.
“Remember what we discussed?” She lowered Yuji back into her embrace. “A watchdog for our son? A suitable bodyguard to ensure his safety at all times?”
Jin blinked at her, turned to look at Choso sniveling in the center of the basement, then turned back to give the sorcerer an incredulous look.
“I thought he’d be... Bigger?”
“He was supposed to be fully developed, yes. Frankly I don’t know where I went wrong”
Truly, Kenjaku had no idea. Out of all of the death paintings, failures as they all may have been, Choso was the closest one to what she would call a success. His brothers were unsalvageable, and even if they hadn’t been she would’ve never tried reviving such broken half spirits. Indeed, Choso should’ve been an adequate tool for the sake of Yuji’s growth, especially with the Kamo’s cursed technique. A perfectly reasonable assessment on her part told her complications shouldn’t have arisen given the data on hand. Doubly disappointing then that all it amounted to was naked brat covered in his own tears.
“Once I dispose of him, I'll have to examine his body to see just where the error occurred.”
From the corner of her eye, she could make out Jin narrowing his eyes in disapproval. Already she could hear whatever protests he was about to make. Honestly, you’d think this was the first time he’s heard his dear wife discuss murder.
“We’re not doing that,” with that short reply he made his way over to Choso. He didn’t even wait for her to respond. A bit rude, thought Kenjaku. She cooed down at Yuji, telling him not to imitate his father’s lapse in manners.
When he knelt down in front of the half-cursed spirit, Jin wasn’t at all surprised when the boy scooted backwards away from. Though still wet from his earlier breakdown, Choso’s eyes were hard and distrustful of the man so at ease around the mean, scarred woman. The pinkette adjusted his glasses as he smiled apologetically at his house’s newest inhabitant.
“I’m sorry about... well, all of this. I bet it was pretty scary waking up here all alone.”
Choso’s little shoulders lost some of their tension at the featherlight tone of his voice. He nodded tentatively at the man with the oddly colored hair. He was much nicer than the woman
He told him as much. It made him laugh; Kenjaku rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, she can be pretty mean.” Jin extended a hand towards Choso; motion slow and steady. He didn’t want to spook him again. The would-be blood sorcerer gave it an apprehensive look. Jin holds up his other hand in mock surrender. “Just wanted to see if you wanted to get out of the mean woman’s creepy basement. Maybe run you a hot bath?”
A low growl from Choso’s stomach sounded off the basement walls. Jin couldn’t help but smile at how he blushed
“And get some food in you while I’m at it. Dinner’s almost done, too.”
Apparently, that’s all the convincing he needed. Few moments later Jin was bounding up the stairs, Choso wrapped up in one of Kenjaku’s discarded labcoats in his arms, with his unamused wife and son coming up behind him.
“Just so you know,” Kenjaku began, “this will be your problem. I’m not cleaning up after it.”
“Think I’ll manage.”
Before Kenjaku could offer a retort, her son squirmed a bit in her arms. Just enough to catch Choso looking over Jin’s shoulder right at him. The two stared at each other, neither breaking eye contact, until Yuji offered him a little wave. Choso’s eyes glowed with delight at the gesture, one he returned with enthusiasm. Kenjaku raised a singular eyebrow at the exchange; cross stitch scars shifted with her expression.
Maybe she could salvage this after all.