Chapter Text
Huff. Huff. His old body isn’t what it was a few years before - in health, stamina, and pain. The sweet, tiny cherry blossom child in his navy blue New Year’s kimono excitedly tugged Wasuke forward, snaking through the crowds and guiding him. It is packed, swarming with many shrine goers. Abundant street stalls of snacks and arcade games line up endlessly back down from the shrine entrance to send the five year old into a frenzy. Wasuke and his grandchild have been walking through this area for the past hour, and it appears that neither the child’s energy nor the amount of stall-going will die down anytime soon. May the gods, goddesses, and all the deities above have mercy on his soul as Yuuji drags him to the long remainder of stalls.
“Jii-chan! Jii-chan! I wanna go to that stall!” Yuuji shouts, pointing at a faraway stall and urgently tugs on his jacket sleeve. Wasuke squints at the stall in question from a distance and miserably chuckles. It’s another shooter stall, but the prizes look attractive enough that a long crowd has gathered to wait and try their hand in it.
“Boy, it’s pretty packed there. Are you sure you want to go there?” Wasuke couldn’t help but chide his grandchild some more. “You’ve already been to many shooter game stalls before. Why not pick another stall you haven’t done? Like that face making one?”
Making a face so Yuuji did with his scrunched up expressions.The audacity of this grandchild… “No thanks, Ojii-chan! That game looks bo-ring~.”
Wasuke sighs and gives in, “Alright. You’re going to have to line up for a while for that stall by yourself. While you line up and play that game, I will be resting close by.” “Yay!” The child’s face unfolds back into a beamful expression, and he lets go of Wasuke’s sleeve, dashing to the stall’s long line. Wasuke slowly makes his descent and way to the toy gun-shooting stall. Keeping a constant sight of the small pink hair in the stall's line through the ever changing crowd. By the time Wasuke made it to the vicinity of the stall, Yuuji was ahead of the long line.
Huh. That was fast. Wasuke couldn’t help note how soon Yuuji was in front of the line. He finds a nearby food stall across from the gaming stall and orders some red bean soup. Soon, he realizes how the child got ahead of the line as he takes a seat to eat the hot dessert. That kid chatted up a storm in the line with his energetic cheers and babbling. The stall-goers became victims to his sunshine charm. Not much later, Yuuji got to play the shooter game he cut the line for. He had the perfect shooter pose, consistently aiming and hitting the big grand prize of …a fancy futon? What the heck is this child doing?! As close as it is to the edge of the top shelf, there's no way it'll be tipping over anytime soon. However, the crowd's response to his efforts beg to differ.
"Woo! Little guy, you can do it!" Some guy from the line cheers.
"Yeah! I can do it! I'm gonna win that futon for Ojii-chan!" Yuuji beams as he accurately hits the futon again. Some "Kyaas" and other sounds of excitement and heartwarming laughter can be heard. Wasuke blushed and thought about knocking some sense into the child later at home for saying such embarrassing things. Perhaps, moved by his mannerisms and goals, people in line and as players help the Yuuji in any way. Be it giving him some extra change, bullets, or even different sorts of advice. Wasuke has finished his warm dessert a while ago, yet Yuuji is playing the shooter game with deep concentration. The ever-changing players kept giving pointers to the little guy. One of the players, a lady in an elegant black tomesode kimono with white and red lily patterns, has been extensively helping Yuuji. Whenever the boy runs out of bullets and nobody else buys more for him, she immediately drops a bunch into his small plate. Yuuji always wanted to leave whenever he ran out of change, but he also felt bad that people kept giving him change so he always played to the end of it all despite it already happening way too many times before. Just as Wasuke was about to leave his seat, a loud cowbell clanged.
“Congratulations, little guy! You won the luxury futon!” The shopkeeper announces as the crowd around Yuuji claps.
“Yay! I did it!” Yuuji beams, and he makes a small bow to the cheering people around him. “Thank you so much for your help! I will make sure Ojii-chan’s back is okay with this futon!”
Wasuke couldn’t help but smile while he makes his way through the crowd to Yuuji and shouts towards him,“Oi, Yuuji! Quit making a ruckus and bothering the other patrons! It’s time to go!” The crowd begins to disperse to make way for him to his grandson.
The boy happily turns around hugging the futon, “Okay, Ojii-chan!” Just as Yuuji was about to jog over to him, the lady from before turns around and grasps his shoulder. Wasuke’s heart tightens at the familiar sight of forehead stitches and bellows, “YUUJI, GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!”
“Huh?”
His shout was too late as the familiar lady smirks, and a large crowd suddenly appears out of nowhere between Yuuji and him. Wasuke dashes to him, pushing any people he could away. When the crowd clears, all there is left is just the expensive futon on the ground.
“Excuse me, mister? Do you need help picking up the grand prize?” The stall attendant asks him.
Wasuke panickedly grabs the attendant by the shoulders, “Did you see where the lady in the black tomesode with a five year old winner with pink hair went?!”
“N-no. Sir, you were the winner…were you not?” There’s a certain glaze in the attendant’s eyes as they respond back to his question. Wasuke leaves the stall and chases after familiar patrons that were at the stall to ask the same question. The responses from various people remain the same. People responded as if they were possessed, and no one could remember Yuuji playing at the shooter stall at all. By the end of the festival evening, Yuuji was never found - even with the collaborative efforts with the customer service booth volunteers and local police officers. Wasuke finds himself in the police station, filling out the missing child report.
“Mister, kids tend to go missing around this time of the year with the rise in human traffickers. With the rise in human traffickers, the police have also increased the amount of crackdowns on those criminals,” the policeman comforts as he takes in the paperwork from Wasuke. “We will do our best to find your grandson just as we have found other children before.”
Is that really true? Could they find Yuuji? Especially when it’s a monster that kidnapped him in the first place?
When he exhaustedly returns home, the wrapped expensive futon lays in front of his apartment door with a bouquet of hydrangeas and lilies. Wasuke’s eyes widen at the realization, and he immediately dashes downstairs to the nighttime security guard.
“Have you seen Yuuji or a lady with head stitches pass by here?!” He yells out at the sleepy guard.
The security guard jolts, “Huh? What? No. What’s wrong, Itadori-san? Yuuji didn’t return home with you?” Wasuke’s chest tightens again, and his shoulders slump at the hopeless situation. “No. Yuuji is missing. I was hoping that you saw the perpetrator who put the bouquet and futon in front of my apartment door.”
“My condolences, sir,” murmurs the security guard, “Normally, we pass on the footage to the police for review and don’t show it to the public, but…for familiarity sake, we can look at the security footage in your floor hallway together.”
Wasuke instantly takes up on the man’s offer and joins the security guard in the room. Looking through the past couple hours of footage sped up, there’s an unknown glitch midst of the footage. A second of momentary darkness blotches the camera, and the flowers and futon suddenly turn up in front of his apartment door. No sign of Yuuji or the perpetrator was seen in the footage. The security guard shivers at the scene as Wasuke rewinds the tapes multiple times for the same phenomenon to happen again and again. It’s getting way too late, and he should sleep, but he can’t. Instead, he’s back at the police station, handing over the futon and bouquet as submission of evidence. The security footage was given at a later time when requested by the case investigators.
A week has passed, and Wasuke mindlessly worked his odd jobs during that time. He made the necessary phone call to the preschool to let them know about Yuuji. Results of the investigation on those items, footage, and the festival remained the same: no trace of the perpetrator or Yuuji. Life is moving at the slowest pace possible as he works and awaits for any news of his grandson. Wasuke got into the habit of periodically checking the house phone for any voicemails or calls in hopes of learning any news…just anything. He even ends up sleeping on the futon of the living room floor space, knowing that his old ears cannot pick up sound as well through the room walls at times. Whenever he closes his eyes to sleep, the home’s silence invites such unpleasant thoughts and anxiety of what that monster could be doing to Yuuji.
Two weeks later ( it’s only been that long?) , a bunch of impatient knocks comes crashing on his door early in the morning. From the living room floor, Wasuke runs to the door, almost tripping but having caught himself in the doorway, to open it to the appearance of two men. It’s an extremely tall white-haired young man wearing pitch black shades, and another middle-aged looking man carrying the familiar, accursed futon that was submitted for police evidence weeks prior. The younger man asks him, “Hey, you alright? You didn’t have to come running just because I knocked on your door so many times.”
Wasuke wanted to glower at the young man, but refrained from doing so. “You guys are part of the investigation case on my grandson. Any news?”
“Nope!” The old man’s face scowls at the nonchalant response. “Instead, we would like to ask you more questions regarding the mysterious disappearance of your grandson. We’re part of a private investigation team that happens to work on cases similar to your grandson’s. The name is Gojo Satoru, by the way. Anything will help even if the details seem unreal or supernatural. Any suspicion on who the person may be will greatly benefit your case’s investigation.”
“I’ve already told the police everything as it is. My grandson mysteriously vanished in the midst of a large festival crowd with an unknown lady with forehead stitches after he won that futon at the shooter stall.” He points at the futon and rubs his temple in frustration. “No one could recall having helped or seen my grandson win that cursed futon prize with the help of the strange lady. It’s as if I am the crazy one for losing my grandkid now, and not the other way around that he has been kidnapped by a terrible person! ”
“It sounds as if you know the perpetrator.”
Wasuke bitterly laughs, “No one would believe a single thing if I say this…It’s ridiculous.”
“Even more so the reason to say it.” In contrast to his flippant attitude from before, Gojo calmly continues. “Remember. I told you we wanted more information no matter how ridiculous it is. Any details from this case could potentially help other similar cases we’re currently working on.”
Is that really the truth? Would other kids’ similar disappearances really be due to that person? Wasuke squeezes his lips in a thin line, sighs, and finally opens his mouth, “It’s about my missing daughter-in-law… Itadori Kaori …She’s the on-No, that’s not right. The monster that imitates her has kidnapped my grandson!”
Wasuke begins his side of the story as to why he believes it’s Kaori’s fault, and the duo intensely listens to the old man’s recount of everything involving his daughter-in-law and son, Jin. A year before Yuuji’s birth, there was a traumatic car accident that declared Kaori dead, yet she came back the next month with stitches on her forehead. There was a constant lingering aura of unnaturalness around her after her return. His son could have never accepted that his wife was dead, and when someone imitated her so well, he naturally bought the deception and accepted that she never died . Not only that, she also was able to magically resolve her past fertility issues and ended up giving birth to Yuuji. Wasuke always got into so many arguments with his son during Kaori’s pregnancy so much that the young couple quickly moved away to Tokyo after Yuuji’s birth. Shortly a year later after moving, they went missing, and Yuuji was found by the police, crying alone in the deserted apartment.
“Hmmm…That’s interesting. So, four years later, you now saw her at the New Year’s festival?” Gojo fiddles with his sunglasses, and Wasuke sees a glimpse of those ethereal blue eyes.
“That’s correct. I couldn’t recognize her from behind, but she still looks the same as the day that she died years ago, and those stitches…I could never mistake that it was her.”
“Well. That’s good to know. Here’s my colleague’s phone number, and if you need or have any information to provide, you can always call him.” The tall man bends down a little to hand the business card and pats Wasuke on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll do our best to find anything regarding your grandson.”
Just like that, the mysterious private investigation duo left, and Wasuke is once again, waiting.
A week after that encounter has passed. It’s been three weeks since Yuuji has been missing, and it’s almost February. Wait. It’s already the beginning of February. It’s almost four weeks. Time is slow and a blur as Wasuke has more places to await news from: the mysterious private investigation team, the preschool, and the police station. He wonders if the same fate that has befell his son will be the same to his grandson. Another case of unknown status of another one of his family members. The old man cannot go through this again. Any news. Just any. Even if it is only to confirm the child’s death would at least give him a peace of mind compared to his son’s disappearance.
A few days later, in the dead of the night, the Itadori house phone rings.