Chapter Text
It was an unspoken yet sad truth that between the Night Parade of a Thousand Demons, Kenjaku’s Culling Games, and the showdown against Sukuna, a lot of orphans had been created in Japan. The rebuilding of their country hadn’t just been on a physical level, but a social and emotional one as well. It had taken a very heavy mental toll on the country and its surviving citizens, especially when so many important cities and landmarks had been destroyed, homes included.
Years later, they were still feeling the after-effects, but they were strong and determined, if nothing else. They would survive, and they would persist.
It had taken help from all over the world, but things were starting to feel as if they were normal again, though it was hard to say what normal was. Yuta sometimes found himself thinking of his life before all of this – before Jujutsu, before curses, before Rika – but such memories felt more like a distant daydream than the past. Seeing half-constructed offices and houses was common, to the point where they blended in with the background.
The country itself wasn’t just rebuilding. Its people were too, some faster than others.
Their friends often liked to joke that Yuta and Maki were the golden couple. They were a perfect fit, seemingly meant for each other. Even the jealousy that Rika had once harbored against Maki had faded, replaced by a deep, if not intense, love that only a curse could manage. They rarely argued, worked incredibly well together, and balanced each other out all around.
But of course, even though their love was genuine and firm, things weren’t perfect underneath the surface. Neither Yuta nor Maki were delusional enough to believe that. Half the reason why they put on such a strong front was because they worked hard to keep their relationship solid. It wasn’t easy. Both of them had a lot of trauma to work through, and they were also both bad about internalizing it and carrying all that weight on their shoulders alone.
If their friends just knew how many times they’d come close to falling apart, they would’ve been shocked, but it wasn’t any of their business. Maki was deeply private, and Yuta had never quite recovered from the loneliness of his youth. Neither of them had had people in their lives they could open up to, not until later in their teenage years. Maki might sometimes talk with Nobara, and Yuta had his friends too, but…
He hadn’t wanted to burden them or make them think any differently of Maki. Their problems were their own, and, like everything else before them, they’d work them out together.
The largest and most difficult hurdle in their relationship had been children. They got together officially when they were relatively young, so it wasn’t a problem as much back then. They had their whole lives ahead of them, so getting married and having kids seemed absurd. It didn’t even cross his mind.
And then children just…started appearing in their lives.
Yuta could blame Gojo – after all, he’d started this whole mess by knocking up Utahime – but that wasn’t exactly it. Honestly, it was him, if anything. He liked kids – their innocence, their happiness, their willingness to learn and understand. Due to everything that happened, more kids had been able to tap into their cursed energy, allowing them to see curses, though most weren’t strong enough to become proper sorcerers. As a lonely and terrified child himself, Yuta had been eager to help them out.
That was the problem. He hadn’t meant to make Maki feel guilty, but sooner or later, after years of being together, the topic of children came up and Maki was adamant about what she did and didn’t want.
She didn’t want kids. Not that she didn’t like them, but she simply didn’t. She had ended the Zen’in line that fateful day when she was only seventeen-years-old, and she would not have a hand in continuing it. That clan was dead and gone.
And it probably would have stayed like that if Megumi and Nobara hadn’t had other plans.
Yuta had seen the flaw in Maki’s plan during their one and only conversation about having kids of their own, but he hadn’t had the heart to tell her. Even though Megumi and Nobara had only been dating at the time, the world’s worst secret relationship next to Gojo and Utahime, Yuta remembered the way Nobara had held Gojo’s son for the first time and the way Megumi’s face softened. Stuck in her own pain and anger, Maki conveniently forgot that she wasn’t the only one left with Zen’in blood in them.
Maki had been angry and hurt when Megumi told her that he and Nobara were trying to get pregnant. The loss was still too raw, and Megumi didn’t understand, she reasoned. He might’ve visited the Zen’in estate during his childhood, but he hadn’t grown up with them. He didn’t realize that their blood was corrupted, and the taint ran too deep. Passing it on, continuing their bloodline, would be a sin – and an affront to the person who had ended it.
It took a long time, almost a year after Kaori was born, for Maki to truly forgive Megumi and Nobara. She had loved Kaori, of course – she wouldn’t be like her family, hating on a child for no reason – but Yuta knew it hurt her sometimes. She would be quiet when they returned home after a visit or hanging out, not contemplative but frustrated and a little confused. He never pushed her to talk about it, waiting for her to come back to him, knowing she needed time.
Until one night, not even five minutes after they returned home, Maki had turned around to face him in the darkness of their home and stated, “You want kids.”
Yuta had been terrified plenty of times in his life, but he couldn’t explain the utter fear and dismay that swept over him the second she uttered those words.
Even worse, he couldn’t deny them. If he did, he would only be lying, and they had made it a serious point in their relationship to never lie to each other, no matter what it was. And he didn’t want to lie to Maki, but he didn’t want to hurt her either. After spending so much time being something of an uncle to Kazuya, then Kaori, and then Gojo and Utahime’s daughter, Nami, he’d come to the shameful realization that he felt like he was missing out on something.
Lying by omission was still lying though, and Maki had been angry, though he could tell part of the anger was against herself. She loved him, he knew that, but she didn’t want to hold him back. He loved her, but she didn’t want to budge on her decision. She didn’t want to have any kids of her own. If he did want kids, well…
That wasn’t an option, not in Yuta’s mind. Maki had actually broken up with him a few times, though only once had lasted longer than a night. They’d gotten into actual arguments with each other – bickering round and round in circles in which they both lost – to the point where their friends began to notice. Yuta didn’t even tell anyone about their half-hearted break-ups, but Gojo caught on when he realized how many missions Yuta was taking in a row.
“Go home. I’m sure Maki misses you.”
Yuta couldn’t tell Gojo, not the man who had everything he wanted, and so all he’d managed was to mumbled, “I can’t.”
In the end, the break-up had only last two weeks, but it had been rough and awful. It was difficult to explain to Maki that he would sacrifice having something he wanted to be with her. That was what love was to him – it was a give and take – and he would be insane to demand something so traumatic for her. Would he regret it one day? He would be sad and disappointed, but no, he would never regret choosing Maki. Not a single day passed in those two weeks when he hadn’t missed her horribly.
Maki was the one to bring up adoption. Yuta had been very hesitant at first – not because he wanted kids of his own blood, but because he was worried that Maki was only making this concession for him and not because she wanted it too. He didn’t want to force motherhood on her, not in any capacity and certainly not for him. That had involved yet another multiple round of arguments over the same damn thing but vice versa.
She hadn’t wanted him to miss out on something he wanted because of her, and he didn’t want to force her to do something for him.
But after years of arguing, of all the ups and downs, the sleepless nights, the mornings filled with reassurance, they had finally come to a firm agreement, and their next fight began.
Adopting a kid wasn’t nearly as easy as Gojo had made it out to be when he found Megumi and Tsumiki. When Yuta had asked him for advice on how to go about adoption, all Gojo said was, “What process?”
A lot of research went into the whole thing, which caused insecurities in both of them. Maki was certain that Yuta would be a good father, but the more research they did and more classes they took, the more unsettled she began to feel. What did she know about being a parent? Her own mother had basically abandoned her, and her father had rejected her.
How could she have a family of her own? Hadn’t Mai told her to destroy everything? How could she help build something?
The self-questioning began to build up, no matter how much she tried to deny it, and it probably would have blown up into self-sabotage if not for that one fateful day.
Adopting a kid involved a lot more than picking one up off the streets, and it wasn’t like they could just go to an orphanage and window shop. They went through a round of interviews before they were even given files to review. Maki was convinced everyone was against her because of her appearance – the scars weren’t “child-friendly”, according to her, and then there was her mysterious lack of family history – but after a few months, they had been allowed to move on to the next step.
When they went to the orphanage that day, one of many in Japan after everything that befell them, there had been no set plan, just another interview and discussion. They’d been given a few files to look through for potential matches, but they wouldn’t meet a child just yet. It was a lot more than picking a kid out of a catalogue. They had to be a good match for a kid too.
Maki was restless as they walked through the center, her eyes focused on the back of the employee they were following. She’d worn a pair of her old glasses in an attempt to make herself look softer, which Yuta was secretly fond of because it reminded him of their first year of high school. When he noticed her clenching her hands into fists at her side, one of her few tells, he gently pried one open and laced his fingers with her.
She peered back at him over her shoulder, and he smiled. They were in this together.
“This is a nice center,” Yuta noted.
“Mmhm, we admittedly get a bit more funding than some other places since we try not to adopt out of the country,” the employee replied off-handedly. He wasn’t sure that was something they should have disclosed, but it made sense. With so many children orphaned and the country in a state of chaos, it made sense to have families outside of the country foster or adopt, but there was a feeling of loss there, a disconnect with their past and culture.
They were passing what looked like a playroom when it happened. Something caught Yuta’s attention: the familiar feeling of cursed energy. That wasn’t unusual. Cursed energy tended to bleed much easier from children; it dribbled from even those with minimal amounts since they had no control over it. He’d wondered if they should focus on finding a child with cursed energy due to the nature of their lives, but even though sorcery was more known now, it wasn’t widely discussed in the open.
Plus, there was the fear that children with cursed energy would be less likely to be adopted. It would be seen as a problem, even a liability.
Yuta could dismiss the trickle of cursed energy, which he could tell wasn’t coming from a curse, but what he couldn’t ignore was the sudden flare that was strong enough even to make Maki perk up in attention. She snapped her head to the side, looking directly into the playroom, and Yuta followed until his gaze landed on a small boy coloring alone on the floor.
The lights around them flickered, making the employee sigh. “They gotta fix that.”
Any other person might’ve made a comment about the so-called extra funding the facility received, but Yuta immediately understood the problem. The flickering lights weren’t an electrical issue that could be easily fixed with some tinkering. Somehow or another, it was due to cursed energy.
Cursed energy that was radiating from that lone, little boy.
The meeting with the director went as well as expected, but Yuta could tell that Maki was distracted. Truth be told, so was he, but he had learned how to put on a smile and pretend better than her. She’d never seen much of a point in it. They got through it with Yuta doing most of the talking, but Maki’s eyes kept straying to the door. He could still sense it too – that cursed energy lingering behind it somewhere in this building.
Strong, temperamental cursed energy – and a lot of it. That could be very destructive if not dealt with and handled carefully, a lot more than just some flickering lights.
As Yuta was shaking the headmistress’ hand, Maki paused at the door and asked, “We passed a room with a young boy in it – blond hair, glasses. It didn’t look like there were any other kids in there and no adults either. Is that normal?”
“What? Oh, no, while the children are given privacy, none of them are without supervision,” the woman answered. “We pride ourselves on creating a healthy environment to stimulate socialization.”
Maki looked back at the woman with a flat expression. “Yeah, coloring on the floor in an empty room without even a table certainly looked stimulating.”
Yuta fought back a wince, but Maki wasn’t wrong. He had been wondering the same thing. The scene was painfully familiar, reminding Yuta of his days in the hospital when he was sick and alone and then again after Rika’s death. Kids hadn’t wanted to play with him, and Rika hadn’t allowed it. Even adults had learned to keep their distance from him, eyeing him warily and warding their kids away from him.
“Well, he’s a…special case,” the director explained carefully. “He prefers to be alone, and we do our best to accommodate the special needs of our children. As you can imagine, many of them have experienced some kind of trauma, so they can be difficult to meet, especially with a small staff and limited funds.”
“Special case?” Yuta piped up. “What’s his name?”
The woman hesitated, then said, “Takumi – but you wouldn’t want him.”
Maki’s brow furrowed, her lips dipping into a frown. That was the wrong thing to say to her – or maybe it was the right thing. The director immediately seemed to realize what she’d said and how callous that sounded coming from a woman in charge of children who lacked people to want them, but before she could backtrack, Maki coldly asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What I meant was–” The director cleared her through. “Takumi is… He’s honestly a bright boy. He’s polite and… Well, he’s mostly obedient, but there are some obvious difficulties, issues likely stemming from his history.”
“What kind of difficulties?” Yuta asked, sensing that Maki was getting closer to snapping.
“We took him in when he was around one – his father wasn’t in the picture and his mother couldn’t handle being a single parent,” the director said. “He was adopted when he was two – it seemed like such a wonderful fit for him, especially being so young – but they… It didn’t work out, and he was returned to us a few months after.”
Maki scowled. “It didn’t work out? Adopting a child isn’t like getting a dog from the pound.”
“I completely agree!” the director jumped in. “We were dismayed and horrified, and it was very hard on him to understand. We’ve tried fostering him in hopes of finding him a forever family, but he’s come back to us every time a few months later. Destructive, lying, making up stories – all signs of the trauma he’s suffered, but…”
“So you think he’s acting out,” Maki surmised.
“We do offer counseling for the kids, but he’s so young. We’re not sure if it’s actually doing him any good, and he’s mostly unresponsive in the sessions. He truly does prefer to be alone.”
Yuta tapped his lip in thought. “You said he’s destructive?”
“Breaking household appliances – electronics, light fixtures, stuff like that,” the director said. “It’s not uncommon, especially in foster homes.” She let out a sigh. “That wouldn’t be a problem, but he denies responsibility every time and gets wildly upset, usually breaking something else when in punishment.”
Maki stiffened, triggered by the mention of punishment, but Yuta held out a hand to stop her, just enough to catch her attention. “And he makes up stories?”
“Oh, we like to say he has a very…vivid imagination,” the director said, waving a dismissive hand. “Monsters under the bed and such things, like many kids do, but he gets fixated on them and has even had major meltdowns over them. It’s…hard on the parents.”
“Yeah, I’m sure dealing with a traumatized kid who has been abandoned multiple times would suck,” Maki deadpanned.
The director flushed. “I know it’s hard to believe or understand, but we’re doing the best we can for him, like all our more troublesome cases. We love Takumi and want the best for him, but the sad truth is, some kids don’t get adopted. All we can do is take care of those that fall through the cracks.”
“You’re right,” Yuta said soothingly. “We’re not disregarding the hard work you do here and everything you’ve done for these kids.” He glanced back at Maki, who was giving him a look like she’d rather eat a shoe than apologize to this woman, and let out a breath. “We just happen to know a thing or two about being left behind, so he stood out to us. It’s one of the reasons we chose to adopt.”
In the face of Yuta’s genuineness, the director’s wounded pride deflated. “I see. That’s a commendable decision, and not an easy one.”
“No, it isn’t.” Yuta paused, looking at Maki and then turning to face the director again. “I know this is unusual and out of the normal process, but could we… could we maybe speak with him?”
“Listen, you two seem like a very solid couple who truly want to be involved parents,” the director sighed, “but we’re wary of introducing Takumi to anyone. Only a few weeks have passed since he was brought back to us by his last foster home. At this point, we’re concerned about furthering his trauma.”
“How many times has he been returned?”
“I–” The director pressed her lips together. “I shouldn’t say.”
“C’mon, you’ve already disclosed this much,” Maki pointed out.
“Five,” the director confessed.
“And he’s how old?”
“Four.”
His heart felt as if it had dropped into the pit of his stomach, and Maki grumbled, “Five fucking times in four years,” under her breath.
“Like I said, Takumi is a bright boy, and despite his acting out, he’s very sweet,” the director continued. “We’re protective of him, in our own way. I’m concerned that continuing the cycle of introducing him to potential families only to have him be returned is more detrimental than anything else.”
“So you’ve more or less taken the option of adoption from him?” Maki huffed.
“How would you feel if you were brought into a family only to be rejected time and time again?”
Maki pressed her lips into a flat line, thankfully stopping herself from saying anything short. If there was one thing she understood better than others, it was being rejected by people who should have loved and protected her. Yuta could understand this woman’s logic and her plight. Continuing such a cycle could almost be considered negligent abuse.
But Yuta knew a thing or two about being given a second chance when all hope was lost. Sometimes, it just took the right person to reach out a hand to help, and maybe, just maybe, this time, it was his and Maki’s turn to be that person.