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They let the door fall shut behind them, twirling the keys around their index finger before stuffing them back into their pocket. A quick scan of the hallway confirmed that not much had changed. That same ugly painting of a dog with too droopy eyes on the wall. Children's toys littered around the floor, ready to trip you up at a careless step. The burn mark in the floorboards from that time Jin had accidentally dropped a sparkler, still hadn’t been fixed. Kenjaku took off their jacket and kicked away their shoes, leaving them carelessly next to Jin’s neatly arranged ones.
Sauntering down the corridor, they nudged an alien toy figure baring its many mouths with their toe. Their gift for Yuuji’s first birthday. Jin had chided them on the account of the toy being too gruesome or scary for an infant, but the used look of it - with one of the tentacles having already broken off - suggested that their son saw things differently.
Hurried steps warned them of a visitor and surely enough, Jin’s red shock of hair poked around the corner. He halted in his tracks as soon as he saw them, posture tense and clearly on edge at the unexpected sight of a stranger.
“Who-?” A pause. His eyes wandered up to their forehead, noticing the sutures poking out of their skin. “Oh. It’s you.” He relaxed a bit more, now only seeming slightly confused at their sudden reappearance.
The corner of their lips edged up. “It’s been a while.”
Without waiting for his response, they brushed past him and steered towards the kitchen. Jin’s curious stare burned in the back of their neck. Muffled footfalls behind them indicated that he was following them. Once in the kitchen, Kenjaku wasted no time and began collecting cup and pot. Everything was still where they remembered it. Like always, the gas stove came to life on the third try. They filled the pot with water and placed it above the blue flames. While waiting for the water to boil, they opened one of the cupboards containing snacks and tea. Studying the packages, they pondered which one to choose. Yuzu would be a bit too much. As far as they remembered, Jin liked to drink Rooibos, especially in the evening. It didn’t really matter in the end, but it would be quite ironic.
Suddenly, a hand brushed against their forearm. Jin had been quietly watching them rummage about before inserting himself into the situation. The hand slowly wandered up their arm and came to rest on their bicep. A questioning gaze bore into their eyes, trying to shift their attention to him. While they were tempted for a moment to play into the touch like usual, they eventually decided to just ignore it. It would only unnecessarily drag things out.
Confused at their lack of response, Jin let go of them and took a step back. “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice subdued.
Kenjaku grabbed a random package from the shelf - Jin Xuan. Not bad, might lessen the harsh taste. “This is the last time we’ll meet.”
The water was starting to boil. They turned down the gas and poured it into the cup. Then they fished a small flask from their pocket. The sugar-like compound inside twinkled in the mild kitchen light. Contemplatively, they rolled it between their fingers. It wasn’t second thoughts that caused them to stall, they just let themselves feel the weight of the situation. A glance to the side told them that Jin must be having similar thoughts. His eyes were fixed on the sample, slightly frowning, probably running through what it could possibly be. Either way, he seemed to understand what the intended effect was.
The man met their eyes again. Calmly returning his gaze, they unscrewed the flask and poured the small crystals into the water. With the end of a spoon they helped it solute before dropping a tea bag into it. Kenjaku reached out a hand to give the cup to their ex-husband, only to stop at the last moment. There was no need for that little party trick anymore, but they felt like indulging in a bit of nostalgia. Jin would surely appreciate it. A switch turned in their brain and they watched the cup levitate into the air. The man’s eyes widened minimally as the teacup floated over into his open hands.
“You’re still holding onto it,” he mumbled.
“It is a useful technique to have,” Kenjaku affirmed, a smile playing around their lips.
Jin looked at them quizzically. “Is that the only reason?”
“What other reason do I need?” they retorted, leaning against the counter.
He cocked his head. “Right. What more is there to it.” His eyes turned downwards, staring into the depths of his tea. He was hiding it quite well, but his rising anxiety was obvious in the way his lips pressed together too tightly and the shallow breath that escaped his nose. Abruptly, he turned towards the kitchen door. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”
Feeling indulgent, Kenjaku followed him into the living room. The TV in front of the kotatsu was running on mute. Some geographic documentary from the looks of it. Jin turned it off before sitting down and placing the teacup on the low table. Looking up at them, he padded the empty space next to him with a smile. They chuckled quietly. He sure liked to make his death as homely as possible, not that they could blame him for it.
After they had settled down, they waited expectantly for him to take the final step. Jin cupped the hot beverage with both hands as if this was just another winter night and he simply wanted to keep warm under the covers of the kotatsu. His gaze wandered around the room, the slight smile on his lips had a kind of wistful quality to it. Then he turned to Kenjaku again.
“Despite everything, we had some good times here together, don’t you think?”
They leaned their elbow on the table, resigned to play along for now. It seemed like Jin was prepared to go through with it, he was just being sentimental about it as always. “I suppose so.” There were definitely worse ways to spend their time.
The man ran his fingers over the wooden surface. “You used to sleep here a lot during the later stages of the pregnancy.” True, the warmth had helped with the back pain and made Yuuji settle down from his ever more insistent kicking. “Around that time we also shared our first and only New Year’s udon here. And we had watermelon last year, remember?”
Originally, Kenjaku had only wanted to check up on Yuuji, since he was starting to get to that age where sorcerer’s children developed their techniques and a better awareness of cursed energy, something that wasn’t supposed to happen to him yet. After confirming that he was still for all intents and purposes a non-sorcerer child, albeit unusually strong, they had wanted to leave, but Jin had other plans and presented some convincing arguments for why they should stay for a shared meal. They remembered those convincing arguments better than the food.
Getting a bit impatient, they tapped their fingers against the wood. Surely, Jin couldn’t think that a trip down memory lane would make them change their mind? “I remember.” They pointed towards the cup. “Don’t forget your tea. It’s getting cold.”
Jin looked down into the poisoned water. “Right.” He lifted the cup until it hovered a few centimetres away from his chin. His gaze shifted towards the hallway. He put the cup back on the table, untouched. This time the look he gave them was more focused. “What will happen to Yuuji? Will you take care of him?”
They let out a sigh. “No, I will bring him to your father where he will stay for the foreseeable future. Until he’s old enough.”
He let out a short laugh that they couldn’t help but return with their own crooked smile. It was pretty funny, considering their past, but Wasuke was overall the safer option. No ties, no special skills and sure to be dead by the time they needed Yuuji again. “Maybe it’s better this way.”
Jin took a deep painful breath, clasped the cup tighter and lifted it to his mouth once more. He nervously licked his lips. His larynx bopped at a dry swallow. A last glance was directed at them. They gave him an encouraging smile. It was unclear if Jin actually considered it a supportive gesture, but he still put the rim on his lips and screwed his eyes shut. At first, he only let in a small nibble as if to test the temperature, but then he forced one big gulp down his throat. His face scrunched up further. Kenjaku’s smile widened. The man put the cup back on the table and coughed into his hand.
“It’s bitter,” he pressed out.
Well, that was to be expected, but the burning taste seemed to be covered up by the Milk Oolong tea. “Could be worse,” they informed him, light-heartedly.
That pressure from before was starting to lift from their shoulders. It was done. Even if he didn’t finish the whole cup, he would surely die. There was no turning back. That nagging sensation in the back of their mind lessened. Another loose end neatly tied up. No matter what tricks Tengen might come up with in the future, they had robbed them of one potential point of attack.
Jin calmed down and took another sip from the tea and then another one. “How long do I have?”
They gave a light shrug. “About five minutes. Depends on how much more you are drinking.”
He swished the liquid around a bit. “So it’s cyanide then.” It wasn’t a question.
Kenjaku snickered and edged closer, making themselves more comfortable to watch his last moments. “Right on. Would you have liked something less immediate? Maybe I should’ve used arsenic for the sake of irony. I considered gu , but that seemed a bit too dramatic.”
Jin actually managed a laugh. “No, this is fine. I prefer it to be over quickly.” The smile gradually faded from his lips as he regarded them with a contemplative look. “Would there have ever been a set of circumstances where this wouldn’t have happened?”
“No.” Their answer was immediate, short and unwavering.
He nodded slowly. “Thought so.” Another sip of poison made it past his lips, making him shudder.
The man pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His face rested in his hands for a moment, covering his expression. Then he lifted his head again and adjusted his glasses. He sniffed. Sweat was starting to collect on his forehead. Leaning forward onto the kotatsu, he wrung his hands with increasing agitation.
“At least I had three years with Yuuji. Almost four. Before, I never thought that would be possible,” he mumbled. “Was I a good father? I think I did a better job than my own.” Kenjaku stayed silent, it didn’t seem like he expected an answer anyway. “It was a good time, all things considered. Yes. Strange and unusual and at times frightening, but I already invited that into my life when I married Kaori. I mean, she wasn’t like you, but she was also different. Yuuji is going to be different too…”
His head shot up, resurfacing from his self-reassuring ramblings. With a slightly panicked look he grabbed their sweater and pulled himself closer. Warm panting breath brushed over their face. “You will still look out for him, right? For Yuuji?” Kenjaku put a hand over his, intending to untangle his fingers from their clothes, but Jin just grabbed their shoulder with his other hand. “Don’t let him get hurt.”
They sighed and tried unsuccessfully to bring a bit more space between them. “That’s just unrealistic. Everyone will experience pain in their life, no matter what they do.”
Jin paused, lowering his gaze. “Yes…right.” His focus returned, more insistently this time. “But still, look out for him. I know things will be hard, and painful. A lot of sorrow. There’s is that plan of yours too. No matter what it is, he will be facing lot of challenges. That’s why he needs you, don’t let him die.” A coughing fit interrupted his speech. When he removed his hand from his mouth, the palm was covered in spit and spatters of bile. He clutched their sweater again, smearing his fluids into it. Kenjaku crinkled their nose. “My father doesn’t understand anything about these things. He can’t prepare Yuuji, and he can’t be there for him. So you have to do it. No matter what happens, keep him alive. Yuuji himself might at times feel overwhelmed and think things are hopeless, but don’t let him die.”
Despite gasping for breath between every couple of words, Jin’s stare pierced right through them, somehow being able to keep them in place. “I will do my best,” they said without much conviction.
More and more weight of the dying man settled on them. A jittery hand travelled over their shoulder and chest. “You need him. Otherwise you wouldn’t have had a child with me. You need him, so you will protect him.” That was certainly true up to a point.
Another shiver ran through Jin, stronger this time. He groaned. His muscles contracted and spasmed against them. Reflexively, they put an arm around his back to keep him from sagging to the side. As quick as it came, it was gone again and Jin slumped into their embrace, his head resting on their shoulder. The faint smell of the citrus fruits from Jin’s favourite shampoo waved past them. In a way, this visit wasn’t much different from the ones in the past. The man lying exhausted in their arms, mumbling nonsensical things while they contemplated the future. Usually, they were wearing less clothes in that situation though.
Their hand glid down Jin’s back, almost on its own. Deftly, they pulled the seam of his clothes up far enough to let them easily sneak a hand underneath. Clammy skin pressed against their palm. Drops of cold sweat wet their fingers. This was the last time they would get to feel his body while there was still blood running through it. Maybe they should have taken Jin up on his offer earlier.
“I hope he is able to make some friends,” Jin whispered.
Kenjaku gave a non-committal hum. Their hand slid higher up his back. They manoeuvred Jin’s body a bit so they could grasp the side of his neck and lift his head up from their shoulder. His face hovered before them once more, his gaze now bleary and his eyelids drooping. Holding him securely in their arms, palm cupping the side of his face, they pressed a kiss against his lips.
The corners of his mouth twitched up into an attempt at a smile as they pulled back. “Not the worst way to die,” he croaked.
“No.” They could’ve done this in a much more gruesome way if they wanted to. That would be such a waste though.
They pressed their lips against Jin’s again, feeling a very weak response. Opening their mouth slightly, they licked along his lips, tasting the bitterness of sickness and cyanide. The poison prickled inside their mouth, however, they were familiar enough with it to counteract its harmful intentions. Jin’s mouth parted a little and they took the chance to slip their tongue inside. He wasn’t their first dead lover and likely wouldn’t be the last. It was always a different experience, a different savour. Maybe it was due to the tea, but Jin still had a certain sweetness to him. Not like when he was alive, more tainted, but also not reeking of rot yet. Additionally, the poison gave it a certain edge. There was something thrilling about having their deadly intent turned against them, even if it was ultimately futile.
Jin shook in their arms. Hands clenched against them in death throes before going slack. Kenjaku felt the tongue that had before tentatively prodded against theirs - maybe a reflex or maybe an attempt to return the kiss - go lax. One final warm breath left his mouth, filling theirs, before there was only unnatural stillness. A last strong burst of cursed energy escaped his body, washing over their face in sickening heat. The man sagged into them, his upper torso only being held up by their experienced hands. They retracted their tongue but kept their mouth sealed above his. As they eventually pulled away, Jin’s head fell back. His mouth ajar, eyes rolled back into his skull leaving only the edge of his iris visible.
Even like this, with sweat sticking his hair to his forehead and vomit at the corners of his mouth, he still looked quite beautiful. Kenjaku ran their thumb over his lips one last time before leaning forward and lowering Jin’s body to the ground. With the back of their hand, they wiped the wetness of his death from their lips.
Pulling his body to the side, they spread him out about half a metre away from the kotatsu. Having his limbs splayed would make for easier disposal later. While arranging his legs, they noticed a slither of skin around his hips, exposed by his still hiked up shirt and sweater. Their fingertips trailed along the quickly cooling flesh. It had only been a few minutes but the difference to a living organism was already quite obvious. Always a fascinating process. That last uproar of cursed energy had been quite strong, maybe they’d take a look at his brain before incinerating him, just to see if there were any abnormalities. Or just to see it.
“Who are you?”
The high voice of a child interrupted their musings. Yuuji was standing in the middle of the living room, dressed in his pyjamas and clutching a dog plushie to his belly. He had been there for a while, Kenjaku just waited for the boy to say something of his own accord before acknowledging him. His stare flickered to the body of his father lying on the floor, before continuing to nervously size them up.
Kenjaku smiled. “Don’t you remember me?” Of course he didn’t, he hadn’t at their last two visits, but the question was just too tempting.
The boy frowned and shook his head. Carefully, he took a couple of steps closer and curiously looked at his father. Jin’s corpse was like a dam between them, dividing them. Kenjaku squatting on one side and Yuuji standing on the other. His gaze lingered on the clearly visible white of the man’s eyes.
“What’s up with Papa?”
“He’s dead.”
“He’s not moving.”
“That’s because he’s dead.”
Yuuji cocked his head to the side. “What’s ‘dead’?”
They chuckled. “I already explained it to you once.”
Their son scrunched up his face in concentration. “No, you didn’t.”
Kenjaku let out an amused sigh. “Remember when you found that bird on the ground in the park? It was lying on its back - just like your father is now - with its legs in the air. You asked me if it is sick and I told you it is not alive anymore. It will never get up again. It will never fly or sing again.”
Yuuji’s eyes widened. He pressed the plushie tighter against him. “That wasn’t-...” His voice faltered. “Mama showed me that bird.” They smiled patiently at him. Uncertainty spread across his face and made him subtly lean away from them, his lip wobbling. He looked down at the corpse, took in the stiff open mouth, the unblinking eyes, the expressionless face, the motionless chest.
They held out their hand to him. Hesitantly, he reached for it and touched their fingers, not quite holding them. Kenjaku grasped his wrist and pulled him closer, causing the boy to fall to his knees with a yelp. A bit more gently, they settled Yuuji’s palm against Jin’s pale cheek.
“Do you feel that? Do you recognize it? That is death.”
Their son froze, staring at his father’s face. The plushie fell from his arm as he reached out with his other hand and cupped the man’s rigid head between his palms, not unlike the bird he had held back then.
“Papa… Papa…” he whispered.
Kenjaku let go of the small shivering wrist and watched the boy grapple with reality. His breath came out in quick hiccuped puffs, foreboding the cry he was fighting with. Hands now raked over the man’s face, searching for that last grain of life but always coming up empty. Tears started to run down the child’s face, collecting at his chin and dropping onto his father’s chest, only to seep away and disappear into the fabric of his clothes. Yuuji threw his arms around Jin’s head and pressed his cheek against the corpse’s, smearing tears against the leathery skin, as if hoping to share his own warmth with him.
“You’re cold, Papa…I’ll make you warm, then you’ll be better. I’ll make it better. You have to get better. Don’t leave me alone.”
Kenjaku tapped their fingers against their arm somewhat impatiently. They really were father and son. So alike in these moments. Eventually, they resorted to physically pulling the boy away from the body. He whined and protested, but couldn’t fight back. Hands grasped into the empty air, flailing for something to hold onto.
“There is nothing you can do,” they explained evenly. “Just like that bird, your father won’t be coming back to life again. It’s over.”
Yuuji stared up at them, face puffy and wet. “No… we have to help him.”
They sighed. “We don’t and we won’t. Come, we will pay your grandfather a late-night visit.”
Lifting the child up into their arms, they stood and walked towards the door. The boy looked back over their shoulder, still futilely stretching his arms out to the unmoving form of his father on the ground.
“No! We can’t leave him. Let me go!”
Decisively, they shut the door to the living room behind them. Disposing of Jin could wait until later, they needed some peace and quiet for that. Hot tears moistened their neck and sweater, and childish whimpers resounded in their ears as they pulled on their shoes. Wasuke could deal with their son now. This was out of their range of expertise. The apartment door locked behind them, as they readied themselves to transport Yuuji to the Itadori family home.