Chapter Text
Kento glanced into the rearview mirror, frowning, before his eye trained back on the road ahead. Misumi had been glued to her phone ever since he and Mirai had picked the children up from the train station. Next to her, Toshiro was staring absent-mindedly out the car window. The car was silent… too silent. There was no bickering. There was no arguing. There was no quarreling. The children said nothing. When they picked Misumi up last summer, she couldn’t stop chattering about her time away at Jujutsu Tech; that wasn’t the case this time.
Mirai glimpsed up from the book in her lap and noticed her husband’s darting eye. No wonder she had finished so many chapters. Turning her seat, she smiled at her children. Neither of them acknowledged her. Clearing her throat, she stared at them. Toshiro peered at her first, mirroring her grin with far less enthusiasm, while Misumi did not regard her.
“Misumin,” Mirai called.
The teen looked up with a scowl, eyebrow raised in annoyance. “Hmm?”
“You’ve been awfully quiet about your summer. Did you not have a good time at Jujutsu Tech?”
“It was fine,” she muttered and returned to her rapid typing.
Mirai saw Kento's lips pull down in a deeper frown, but he too remained silent. Pursing her lips, she saw her son staring back at her. He opened his mouth slightly, as if to speak, but snapped it shut. He turned his eyes back to the passing landscape.
The rest of the car ride was blanketed in still tension; they arrived home in record time. Misumi bolted from the car, swinging her gem-studded bag over her shoulder, and disappeared into the house. Toshiro stayed behind and helped Kento unload the car. He took his own luggage, leered at Misumi’s forgotten suitcase, and grimaced.
“I’m not taking that in the house,” he said.
Kento replied, “I’ll get it.” His jaw was taut as he ground his back morals. Finally, he spoke. “What is wrong with your sister?”
Toshiro simply shrugged his shoulders before he too went into the house. Mirai was leaning against the car. She moved to her husband and placed a hand on his chest as she reached up to peck his cheek.
“Misumin will tell us soon enough. Silence is not necessarily her strong suit.”
Sure enough, two hours later, Misumi sauntered into the kitchen. She set her hands on the island and eyed her parents across the counter.
“I have an announcement to make,” she stated.
Kento met her harsh gaze with his own equally grounded glare. He nodded for her to continue.
“After I graduate in the spring, I am going to Tokyo. I want to be a jujutsu sorcerer.”
Mirai dropped the bowl of fruit she had been washing and the color drained from her face. She whipped around, sputtering, “Are- are you sure, Misumin?”
Kento pulled his wife to his side, his arm squeezing her tightly, as he too was caught off-guard. He asked, “When did you make this decision? Perhaps, you should talk it over with us before committing-”
“I talked with Gojo, and he thought it was a lovely idea,” Misumi interjected. “It doesn’t matter when I decided. Once I turn eighteen next month, you won’t be able to stop me.”
From the living room, Toshiro snickered. Misumi turned to him, a dark flush rising up her cheeks, with a deep glower. “What’s so funny?”
“Why don’t you tell Mom and Dad the real reason you want to move to Tokyo?”
“Shut up, Toshiro,” she retorted, but the boy was having none of it. He rotated to face his parents fully.
“Misumi likes this boy from the Kamo Family–”
“TOSHIRO!” Misumi screeched.
“–and that’s why she wants to become a professional.”
Even Mirai could feel the wave of cursed energy that rolled off the teen girl. Her fingertips sparked with flames as fury flared across her face.
Kento said in a firm voice, “Misumi-”
But Misumi paid her father no heed, as she whirled to glare at her brother. She took a deep breath and unleashed. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have a technique and you will NEVER amount to a fraction of my power!”
“Misumi!” Mirai shouted, but that did not deter her daughter’s tirade.
“You will always be dependent on that stupid katana until the day you die– and that’s why Mom babies you! You’re weak , Toshiro, and you always will be!”
Kento had moved to stand next to Misumi and he placed his hand over her blazing, balled fists. He looked down at her, forehead creased, as he clenched her hand. “Control, Misumi, control.”
Misumi pulled away from her father’s hold. The flames extinguished and she stormed away. The house rattled when she slammed her bedroom door closed. Toshiro had been staring at the space that his sister had once occupied. His eyes flicked up to his mother, who started to make her way over, but Toshiro scooted away before she could reach him. Mirai looked after him. Then, her eyes narrowed and she stomped up to Misumi’s room. Kento could hear her pounding on the door; she demanded that Misumi apologize. No response came.
Toshiro was sitting on the floor of his room with Momo laying in his crisscrossed lap. The ragdoll was approaching twenty-four years of age. Her days were filled with sleeping, sun-basking, sleeping, eating, and sleeping some more. She meowed, far deeper and scratchier than her youth, to announce Mirai’s presence in the doorway. Toshiro met his mother’s eyes.
“You can come in,” he said quietly.
Gingerly, Mirai sat down next to her son on the rug and pulled his hands from his lap to her own. Momo wiggled from Toshiro’s lap, rubbed against Mirai’s knee, and strutted from the room. They heard her screaming at Misumi’s doorway; she did not stop until the door unlocked and she was granted entry.
Mother and son sat on the floor and neither of them spoke. He knew why his mother was here. Toshiro wasn’t necessarily miffed by Misumi’s harsh words. She had spent all summer at Jujutsu Tech telling him the same thing. She held his lack of technique over his head like an ace whenever he irritated her– and it wasn’t hard to annoy Misumi. He never gave her the satisfaction of seeing emotions cross his face, but he would always retreat into himself.
He knew his mother babied him; it had been evident as long as he could remember. It wasn’t without reason, for Toshiro spent time with her. While Misumi only cared about training with their father, always growing stronger, she never spent time with their mother. They talked fine enough and had their girl time, but Misumi took no interest in their mother’s interest. Toshiro, on the other hand, loved working with his mother at her bookstore. They would spend hours sitting next to one another, in silence, skimming the new books that had been delivered for the month. The divide in their family wasn’t sharp, but it was clearly evident.
As Misumi grew stronger and developed her technique, she gravitated more toward their father because he was a sorcerer. She treated their mother with mild indifference only until she needed something. Toshiro saw this and adjusted himself accordingly. He loved his mother. He always thought she was the strongest person he knew– human or sorcerer. After his first summer at Jujutsu Tech, his eyes opened to a new view, and he realized– with great difficulty– that no matter how strong his mother was, she was still a human. For the first time in his life, he saw his mother the way Misumi did; he had vowed, in the dark of his dorm room in Tokyo, that he would stay by his mother’s side. A weak sorcerer he may be, but he would always be the son his mother needed– even if it meant being her baby for the rest of his life. After all, he loved his mother more than anything.
Mirai sighed, in the sad way that made Toshiro’s chest ache, before she clutched his hands to her heart. “I know that I baby you, Toshin. I can’t help myself- and don’t listen to Misumi. You are not weak. You’re- you’re mostly like me— almost human. I’ve always clung to that. Can I tell you something, Toshin?”
He nodded slowly.
“You have to promise not to tell your sister, but I’ve always been afraid of her technique. She’s quick to anger and I- I feared that she would lose control one day. But you, Toshin, you’ve always been my sweet, calm boy. I’ve always been happy that you never developed a technique. A katana is easy on my heart.”
Toshiro pulled out of his mother’s hold and hugged her tightly. He hadn’t quite hit his growth spurt yet; he still fit perfectly under her chin and that’s where he rested his cheek. Above him, Mirai’s face was buried in his hair. She sniffled, “Talk to me, Toshin.”
He couldn’t possibly tell his mother that he had decided to stick by her side for her own sake. So, he tried a different approach. “I don’t mind being your baby.”
Mirai chuckled softly. “You will grow into a fine young man, Toshin. I’m just not ready to let go, but in time, I will. Whether you follow in your father’s footsteps or live a human life, I want you to fly.”
“You want me to be a sorcerer?”
“I want you to live a life that is fulfilling, and above all, I want you to be safe, my son.”
Now, Toshiro was thoroughly confused. He stayed in his mother’s arms until she left to go close the bookstore. He offered to join her, but Mirai waved him off with a small smile. To ease his own conscience, he walked her to the front door and kissed her cheek– like the good son he was– before she closed the front door. He had every intention to shut himself in his room like Misumi, but he saw his father cutting up the vegetables for dinner and settled in the chair across from him. Kento didn’t look up at his son, who watched him skillfully slice and dice; Toshiro knew he was listening either way.
“I don’t see a purpose in being a sorcerer,” he declared. “At least, I don’t feel obligated to the other jujutsu sorcerers. I had no choice in being born as a sorcerer, so why should I have to take a job that was forced upon me? But at the same time-” His voice faltered. The young boy played with the words in his head before he continued. “But humans need sorcerers to protect them. I feel obligated to protect people like Mom. That would mean I have to leave her. I want to be human for Mom. But I also want to protect people like her, so that they don’t suffer the same pain she has suffered.”
Kento had stopped cutting and was studying the pained expression on Toshiro’s face. “You sound an awful lot like me. When I was at Jujutsu Tech, my best friend died in an attack. I decided then that I was done with being a sorcerer. I found no respect in endangering my life until I found my purpose. I wanted to live my life without regrets. For me, that meant going back to the profession I found no respect in because I wanted to be appreciated. Sorcery gave that to me.”
“But you left again,” Toshiro said.
“Your mother was all the appreciation I needed. What sorcery gives to you, Toshin, is what inevitably sways your decision, but you have time. You have three more years before becoming a professional sorcerer is even a question. Regardless of your decision, I want you to live as I did. Live a life that you won’t regret. For the record, you’re not weak. You’re like me, a strong swordsman.”
The boy screwed up his nose. “You have a technique.”
“And?” Kento swirled the sharp knife– lacing it between his fingers– before he stopped right before his son’s nose. “You are just inexperienced. It will come with time, should you choose the sorcerer path. Have patience, Toshin.”
Toshiro’s eyes blinked at the blade before flickering up to his father. Kento gazed down at his son with a grin on his lips. The boy couldn’t help but mirror the gesture.
In her room, Misumi was hanging out her window, setting piles of wood on fire to release her anger. Her mother had walked past an hour ago, threw her a disappointed look, and continued to the garage. There was no way Misumi was apologizing to her brother. She had been right! Why should she apologize? It was true that she liked Kamo Keisuke, but he wasn’t the sole reason she wanted to go professional. She wanted to be powerful like Gojo. Her godfather was the strongest and no one questioned him. He was the gold standard for jujutsu excellence. He got paid even if he didn’t work as a sorcerer. She wanted that. She wanted power.
Momo meowed from her bed, seemingly annoyed at being ignored, and Misumi scooped the feline into her arms. Burying her face in her fur, she hugged Momo.
“They say I’m hasty– that I’m impulsive. I’ll show them all, Momo, how strong I am. Then they’ll never doubt me or my power again.”
Miaow!
“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you behind. You and I are going to rule this world.”
Misumi was going to prove to her mother that being a sorcerer was the best path. She was going to prove to her father that she was strong enough to handle anything. She was going to prove to everyone that she had what it took to be a sorcerer. No one would ever question her again. Gojo always said the world was hers for the taking.
A knock sounded at her door, and Misumi pretended not to notice. She spotted an unburned pile near the deep pink flowers her father had planted. They’d grow back, she decided, and set the wood ablaze.
“Unless you want me to blast this doorknob off, Misumin, I suggest you unlock it,” Kento warned.
The teen shuffled to the door, unlocked it, and greeted her father with a sour look. He returned it ten-fold.
“I’m not apologizing to Toshiro. You know I’m right-”
“That’s not why I’m here.” Her father sighed, “I learned a long time ago that there are some battles with you that I will not fight.”
Suddenly, Kento sniffed the air. He shook his head in dismay as Misumi made way for him to enter her room. “Burning things is not only a waste of cursed energy but also a poor way to manage your frustration.”
“I thought you weren’t here to lecture me,” she quipped.
“That’s not what I said. I’m not here to make you apologize to your brother-”
Kento had glimpsed out the window and saw Misumi’s fire licking closer to his garden. Grinding his teeth and pointing at the flowers, he said sternly, “ This is why I’m here. You don’t listen.”
A muscle in Misumi’s jaw twitched. “You’re going to lecture me about your garden?! I’m sorry-”
“How many times have I told you, Misumi, that those are oleanders.”
When his daughter gave him a blank stare, he emphasized, “Flowers that are poisonous– especially when burned!”
The girl paled and she lost all her fire. “Why- why would you plant poisonous flowers!”
Kento shot a blast of his own cursed energy at the wood; the blaze died away quickly and flowers remained untouched. “That’s not the problem here, and you know it.”
This time, she couldn’t meet her father’s intense stare. How could someone with only one eye have such an effective look? She opened her mouth to speak but closed it immediately. When it came to her father, she knew when to back down.
Kento held the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the windowsill. It was quiet in the room for a minute before he finally spoke. “Why do you really want to be a sorcerer?”
“It’s not because of a boy,” Misumi mumbled. She sat on the floor with her knees to her chest. “I want to be strong, Dad– like you and Gojo. You and Mom worry about me too much. I’ll be an adult in one month and all you do is doubt me.”
“Strength is subjective. I’ve almost died twice– still not sure how I lived the second time.”
“No one can kill Gojo,” she countered.
Kento chuckled. “That won’t stop people from trying. Hasn’t he told you he was sealed in a prison realm for months?”
“What? No!”
“It seems I’ll have to remind him of his godfatherly duties .” Her father nodded slowly. “Your mother and I worry about you, Misumin, because you still have a lot to learn– sorcerer-wise and in life. It is our job to teach everything we can before we send you out into this unforgiving world.”
Kento approached his daughter, bent over, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “And because we love you.” He ruffled her hair.
“Hey!- What kind of lecture was that?” Misumi blurted.
Her father stood in the doorway. “Listen and learn, Misumin.” He stepped into the hallway, paused for a moment, and turned around. “And stop messing with my garden,” he shot.