Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first indicator for Gojo Satoru that something was different was that Ijichi Kiyotaka wasn't working weekends anymore.

"You're stalking him, Satoru. He didn't sign up for that!" Shoko argued when Satoru casually brought up the observation. He almost regretted telling her. How could she be like this when she knew he couldn’t help it?

"I know you’re always watching me. Nanami-kun refuses to acknowledge it for sanity’s sake, and your students are so traumatized they probably think this is technically normal. But Ijichi-kun didn’t sign up for this."

Satoru slumped back in his chair, pouting. "Yes, he did! He’s one of my kōhais, isn’t he?"

Shoko rolled her eyes, sighing. "Pretty sure when he signed up for Tokyo Tech, there wasn’t fine print that said, ‘You agree to be subject to stalking by Gojo Satoru whenever he deems fit.’"

Satoru’s eyes widened, twinkling with mischief. Even though Shoko couldn’t see them, she sensed trouble brewing.

"Satoru, no."

"Satoru, yes!" He bounced up from his chair, already making his escape. "Always a pleasure, Shoko-chan! Let’s do this again soon!" he yelled, dashing out.

Ijichi Kiyotaka had a secret. A beautiful, wonderful, exciting secret that he wished he could share but couldn’t. He—boring, dull, powerless Ijichi—had acquired a cursed technique.

It had started innocently enough. There was some scrap paper on his desk with notes he didn’t need anymore. For some reason, an urge to make a paper family had overtaken him. So there he was, a grown man of 24, cutting out paper dolls, when he accidentally nicked himself with the scissors.

Frustrated, Ijichi was about to toss the project when a drop of blood landed on the paper. To his astonishment, the dolls began to glow. He dropped them, startled, and watched as they floated in the air. The cut-out shapes connected to form a complete circle, the glow fading to reveal the sound of children's laughter.

The paper family circled his hand, whispering:

"You're hurt!"

"Oh no, he's hurt!"

"Does it hurt?"

"We should heal him!"

"Let’s heal him!"

"This will only take a second," said the last doll.

"Wait, what?" Ijichi stammered, utterly confused.

The dolls glowed again, and to his amazement, the paper cut vanished. It felt as though tiny arms were wrapped around him, like a warm hug. He closed his eyes, unable to remember the last time anyone had hugged him—much less touched him. When the embrace ended, he felt an unexpected sadness.

"There was more hurt than we thought," one voice murmured.

"What... what are you?" Ijichi asked, awestruck.

"We are yours, and you are ours," one voice replied.

"Make us out of better materials. Spend more time crafting us," said another.

"Read our stories. Learn our names," added a third.

"Learn new techniques to make us stronger," chirped the fourth.

"Unleash your imagination," murmured the fifth.

"And know that we are so excited to get to know you!" the sixth voice chimed in. "Whenever you’re lonely, summon us, and we’ll be there!"

"Are... are you leaving?" Ijichi asked, feeling oddly tired.

"Yes," they all answered. "We’ve run out of energy, and we don’t want to take yours since you’re tired."

"Sleep, our summoner. Rest your soul," one whispered softly. "We will return."

Slowly, as though burning away, the paper dolls faded into nothingness.

"What just happened?" Ijichi whispered to the empty room, still bewildered.

In the grand scheme of things, Ijichi taking weekends off shouldn't have mattered. He could always handle paperwork later (still finishing it before the deadline, just not as early as usual), and he wasn’t behind on anything. Plus, Hisoka-san was always eager for more shifts and happy to cover emergencies.

So, on Friday, during his lunch break, Ijichi went to the school’s secret library. Rarely mentioned and seldom occupied, the library had always been Ijichi’s haven. Dust coated the books like a second skin, and the shelves were packed with texts you couldn’t find anywhere else. Mousy, long-limbed, and nearly invisible during his teenage years, Ijichi had felt right at home there, surrounded by the forgotten literature of sorcerers.

The greatest sorcerers, regardless of clan affiliation, had roamed these aisles and left behind their notebooks. Here, Ijichi hoped to find answers to the questions that had been nearly bursting from him since summoning the shikigami.

"Mrow?"

The library had no librarian—something Ijichi always found wasteful. Instead, there was a cat that had lived there for as long as he could remember. Clearly part curse, the cat hadn’t aged a day in all the years he had known her. Her fur was an unusual pattern: pure white on top, burnt orange-red on the bottom, as though she were wearing pants. He had once asked about her, but no one knew of her existence. So, he named her Miko, after the traditional outfit she seemed to be wearing.

"Hello, Miko-hime," Ijichi greeted the cat.

Miko purred in response, settling back on the desk, one intelligent eye open as if to question him.

"I did something amazing yesterday," Ijichi confessed while browsing the shelves. His fingers brushed along the spines, skimming the names of books that required mending.

"I summoned what might be shikigami... from paper... with just a drop of blood." He picked up a book and then set it back down. "Have you ever seen paper glow? Heard voices from... somewhere you couldn’t follow? I didn't even know the first place to look for answers to my questions so I came here. Hopefully, I'll find something in the midst of these books. In the meantime, I'm taking an origami class on Saturday, and a wood carving class on Sunday."

Miko watched him silently, the quiet thump of her paws echoing as she jumped down and wandered between the aisles. After a moment, she stopped in front of a stack of books, giving Ijichi an expectant look.

"Meow." Her tail swished sharply.

Ijichi approached and picked up the top book. It was covered in dust, forcing Ijichi to blow it off. Making sure that he didn't blow in the direction of the still-expecting cat, he took off the dust. The book was handwritten, with sploshes of ink on the front cover.

"‘Walking Towards the Light: The Jujutsu World’s Connection to Religion?’" He read aloud. "The author’s name is missing."

Miko gave him a flat look, then trotted back to her desk.

"You want me to read this?" he asked, bemused. Miko made herself comfortable, closing her eyes as if the matter were settled.

Ijichi bent down to scratch behind her ears. "You’re far smarter than the average cat. Maybe even smarter than the average human. Thank you, Miko-hime."

As he straightened up to leave, Miko let out a quiet murph, her eyes drifting shut.

"I’ll return this by Friday next week," Ijichi called as he shut the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Kiyotaka wouldn’t say he was the best chef—not even close. That being said, whenever it was time for staff potlucks, whatever he made was always the first to be finished. And while it was a bit lonely eating by himself, he always made sure to prepare nutritious and fulfilling meals.

After his meal, he cleaned up, made himself a cup of tea, and headed to his bedroom. The book he had picked up earlier that day was waiting for him.

Kiyotaka believed in quiet luxury, and his room was a testament to that belief. While he wasn’t exactly swimming in money, being the Assistant Director came with perks, including a much larger paycheck. So, who could blame him for splurging a little? From the black-out curtains to the high-end mattress, he spared no expense when it came to his bedroom. After all, with science proving that the average person spends a third of their life asleep, it only made sense to make that time as comfortable as possible.

Sighing, he placed his mug on the nightstand and pulled back the sheets. He switched on the lamp beside the bed and then turned off the ceiling lights. Sliding into the silk sheets, he closed his eyes for a moment, then sat up to grab the book.

I write this, not as a diary, but as an urgent solution to the dwindling amount of information available on what is and isn’t considered cursed energy, as well as the false separation between the temple and the Jujutsu Clans. This is, in fact, a lie. I already see the effects of this decision: the average civilian is unable to see curses, and there are no longer priests or priestesses to offer blessings that enable them to perceive curses.

That was the first thing taken from the common folk. Next were the books on how to create a cursed technique. The argument was that the average man wouldn’t use such knowledge regularly and that the clans would handle all the curses. My colleague, Ryomen Sukuna—

Kiyotaka nearly dropped the book in shock. Sukuna? Almost everyone had heard of the King of Curses, and yet the writer was referring to him as a colleague?

Sukuna is particularly miffed about this, arguing that by withholding this knowledge, those who do learn basic cursed energy will be forced to become vassals and minions of clan members in order to grow stronger. We are both in our late twenties and while Sukuna is a bit strange—he was born with two extra sets of arms, after all—his heart has always been in the right place. People are more inclined to listen to him than to me; I’m a small woman with a preference for quiet. In general, as a woman in the Jujutsu world, people don't take me seriously unless someone more powerful is by my side. That comes with the added problem of extinguishing fights and being the voice of reason. Sukuna claims it’s like seeing a rabbit and a gigantic wolf being friends. Who is really in charge, I can’t help but wonder...

We’re currently considering creating a school—one that would allow students from any background to attend. We’ve managed to convince one of our friends, Tengen, to assist us. The plan is to create a barrier so that no one can harm our students. I will design the barrier (I’ll outline the steps here, just in case another must be built), and Sukuna and Tengen will provide the cursed energy necessary for it to function.

Personally, I’m a low-cursed-energy individual, but I have a theory that people with limited cursed energy can excel as positive energy users. It simply requires being a healthy person and maintaining a positive outlook on life. There are a few other requirements, but Sukuna is yelling at me to go to bed, so I’ll have to continue this later.

Your sort-of Sensei,

Yukari

"Wow..." Kiyotaka muttered, still stunned. He had heard of positive energy in passing—rumor had it that the Zenin clan could summon a shikigami with a sword for an arm that used positive energy. Yet, the writer of this book suggested that Kiyotaka himself might be able to use it too. Was not having enough cursed energy to be considered powerful actually a blessing in disguise?

Glancing at the time on his bedside clock, Kiyotaka was surprised to see it was already 10 PM. Carefully closing the book, he finished the last of his tea and turned off the lamp. He had an origami lesson in the morning, and he wanted to be on time—if not a little early.

"The art of origami is a subtle one, requiring patience and accuracy. If you were to search online for what origami is, you would find: 'The goal is to transform a flat square sheet of paper into a finished sculpture through folding and sculpting techniques.' I disagree."

The instructor's voice was calm yet firm, commanding attention.

"The true art of origami is to take a sheet of paper and transform it into a vessel. When people make origami, it is often for loved ones, friends, or colleagues. It must be done calmly, or you risk ruining the piece with unnecessary folds and tears. You can create for yourself, but the intent behind it must not be negative."

The instructor’s hands moved deftly, folding small sheets of paper into delicate roses as she spoke.

"You must be positive in your creation and intentional with each fold. This is a skill you can carry with you wherever you go, as long as your hands still work. I encourage you to keep all of this in mind as we start with the basics."

Kiyotaka watched in awe, captivated by the ease with which she crafted the intricate flowers. 'Now this is what a professional looks like,' he thought. Her movements were precise, never wasted, her glasses catching the soft morning sunlight. Most of the people in the class appeared to be couples or groups of friends, quietly whispering to one another. Kiyotaka might have felt out of place, had the instructor not given him a thoughtful nod after looking him over—something she hadn't done for any of the other students.

"Let's begin," she said. "On your desk..."

Kiyotaka wearily knocked on the door of the strange-looking building where his wood carving class was supposed to be held. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this was the right place. He had checked the address three times, but this was the only building with the right number in the entire area.

He knocked again, a little more firmly this time. If no one answers after the third knock, I’ll head back home, he thought. There were plenty of other wood carving instructors, and he could always pivot to another craft. As he raised his hand for the third knock, the door suddenly flew open, and a young man tumbled out, rolling onto the grass.

They blinked at each other—one lying on the ground, the other standing in the doorway—until the young man's face broke into a bright smile.

"You're here for the woodworking class, right? Kiyotaka?" the stranger asked, bouncing back to his feet. Kiyotaka was a little taken aback. How did this random stranger, probably younger than him, call him by his first name?

"I'm Daisuke-sensei's grandson, Ken," he continued enthusiastically, thrusting his hand out for Kiyotaka to shake. Caught up in Ken's energy, Kiyotaka hesitantly took the offered hand, noticing that it was still covered in grass. After the handshake, he discreetly wiped his hand on the back of his jeans as Ken motioned for him to come inside.

Taking a deep breath, Kiyotaka stepped into the building.

Chapter Text

The easiest way to differentiate Cursed Energy (C.E.) from Positive Energy (P.E.) is simple: C.E. comes from within, while P.E. comes from the world around us. The universe holds its own energy, neutral and unbiased. It is up to us, the wielders, to decide how our emotions and decisions utilize that energy. For example, when you're angry and take a heated breath, you inhale Neutral Energy (N.E.) but exhale C.E. Floating C.E., left unchecked or without purpose, gathers with similar emotions—such as frustration—and eventually creates a curse, a manifestation of collective negativity.

Positive energy, on the other hand, requires you to be at peace as you absorb it from the environment. I often repeat, "I am one with the world, and the world is one with me," while doing early morning stretches. I advise all P.E. users to spend time outdoors, especially exercising in the morning when the energy is most abundant and free from interruptions. A major benefit of using P.E. is that we can refill the energy of C.E. users without the side effects caused by Reverse Cursed Energy (more on that later). However, a significant drawback is that it takes a special kind of crazy to be a fighter who wields P.E. Sukuna is one of those people—two of his arms wield C.E., and the other two, P.E. But Sukuna is very much a lunatic. While he enjoys the thrill of battle, sometimes struggling to return to normal, it has yet to be a problem for us. When his fighting frenzy ends, he often goes off to hunt more cursed spirits, and we benefit from his purges.

Reverse Cursed Energy (R.C.E.) is a fascinating halfway point—it can heal like P.E., but can also be used on oneself. It is exceedingly rare for a P.E. user to utilize P.E. on themselves unless their energy has somehow gained consciousness. It would be incredible to know more, but P.E. users are so few. Most either hide their skills or lack the proficiency to explore such abilities. It's a shame, really. If someone could harness P.E. to heal, we could save so many lives. Instead, we remain glorified energy refillers for R.C.E. users, so they can continue to heal others.

Food for thought,

Yukari-Sensei

Kiyotaka struggled to catch his breath as he climbed the stairs leading to Tokyo Tech. His activewear was soaked with sweat, and his water bottle was nearly empty. Yet, despite the exhaustion, he hadn’t felt this accomplished in a long time—not since he’d earned his assistant director position. Breathing deeply through his nose, and exhaling slowly through his mouth, he repeated the mantra:

I am one with the universe, and the universe is one with me.

He recited it over and over, syncing the words with each step, until finally, he reached the top. A quick glance at his watch showed that he still had 30 minutes before his shift began—just enough time to shower and change. Turning to look down the stairway, he smiled, unable to even see the first step he’d started on. Filled with newfound determination, he headed to the shower building, ready to face the rest of the day.

Satoru narrowed his eyes as he sensed Kiyotaka's cursed energy approaching from the long stairway leading to Tokyo Tech. Did he seriously take the stairs? His poor kōhai was probably half-dead by now. Satoru could already picture one stiff breeze knocking Kiyotaka over.

He considered going to check on him, but with Shoko-chan and Nanami both sitting in front of him, he thought better of it. Shoko would merely sigh in exasperation, but Nanami—Nanami would definitely tear into him for slacking off. So, Satoru huffed and sulked in his chair instead. Nanami, noticing the dramatic sulking, shot a glare in his direction, taking a harder-than-necessary bite into his breakfast. Satoru rolled his eyes and took another bite of his ordered pancakes. Extra whipped cream, powdered sugar, and strawberries made the stack extra special and made Nanami physically cringe. Satrou watched as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at before he sighed and opened the to-go box with his perfectly normal if a little larger and more protein-filled sandwich.  Making Sorcerer meeting agendas was always annoying, so thankfully it was only a chore that he had to do once in a blue moon. Nanami had also been forced to do this as well, although he wasn't as annoyed.

Shoko watched on with amused tired eyes as she nursed the cup of black coffee she had gotten. Satoru had no idea why she was here so he stuck his tongue out at her. 

‘ Maybe I’ll check on Kiyotaka later.’

Kiyotaka shivered as a strange sensation ran down his spine while he washed his hair. Blindly, he turned the water temperature up, willing his body to relax. What was that? Somehow, deep down, he knew it was something—or someone—he wouldn’t like.

Turning off the shower, he grabbed his glasses from the shelf and then reached for his towel. He slipped on his slippers and made his way to the dressing room, retrieving his bag of clothes to get changed.

“I am one with the universe, and the universe is one with me,” he muttered as he applied lotion.

“I am one with the universe, and the universe is one with me,” he repeated, pulling on his undershirt.

“I am one with the universe, and the universe is one with me,” he said again as he slipped into his pants.

“I am one with the universe, and the universe is one with me,” he finished, tying his shoelaces and ensuring he hadn’t left anything behind. He grabbed his hairbrush and gel, ready to tame his now-dry hair.

Ten minutes later, Kiyotaka sat at his desk, refreshed and ready to start the day.

"All I'm saying," Ken started as he and Kiyotaka worked on the project they’d been assigned two weekends ago, "is that I should introduce you to my cousin! She's really smart, almost done with law school, and she's pretty."

Kiyotaka nearly fumbled his slab of wood and carving knife, thoroughly startled. He glanced up at Ken, bewildered. For reasons that escaped him, Ken seemed to adore him. Ken was always by his side, talking non-stop, much to Kiyotaka's confusion. Across the room, Ken's grandfather, and technically their teacher, Daisuke, watched them with amused eyes, sipping from a sake cup—his third refill of the day.

Kiyotaka still wasn’t sure how he’d wound up in this situation: paying an old man who enjoyed sake a little too much to teach him how to carve wood, while his grandson babbled incessantly beside him. But as he went through the seven stages of grief—there went his peaceful Sunday mornings—he found himself not minding the set-up all that much anymore.

"That's very kind of you, but I doubt she'd be interested," Kiyotaka replied, attempting to deflect. Ken tilted his head to the side like a curious bird.

"Why not?" he asked, his eyes wide and innocent.

Kiyotaka set down his carving tool and wood. "I'm not exactly good-looking. And while I do make a decent amount of money, it’s nothing compared to a lawyer’s salary."

Ken and Daisuke stared at him for a long moment before shaking their heads in unison.

"Make a better excuse next time, boy," Daisuke grumbled, taking another sip from his cup.

"Yeah! I think you’re plenty handsome, Kiyotaka!" Ken added cheerfully. "Sure, when you first came here you looked kind of sick, but now you've started gaining muscle and look way better!"

Kiyotaka smiled softly at their words, though he wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or embarrassed. There was something oddly comforting about this strange little routine—spending Sundays carving wood, dealing with Ken’s relentless matchmaking, and listening to Daisuke’s gruff wisdom between sips of sake. It wasn’t the life he’d envisioned for himself when he first entered the world of Jujutsu sorcerers, but it was peaceful. Grounding.

As he resumed his carving, Kiyotaka’s mind wandered. He thought back to the stair climb earlier that morning, to the exhausting routine of channeling Positive Energy, and the challenges he still faced. He was learning to balance two sides of a world most people didn’t even know existed—Cursed Energy and Positive Energy, and it was honestly going, if he was honest with himself, pretty well. 

But maybe, just maybe, he was starting to find that balance within himself too. The world was a chaotic place, filled with curses and unpredictability, yet here, in this moment, he felt a rare sense of peace.

"I am one with the universe," he whispered under his breath as the carving tool found its rhythm, "and the universe is one with me."

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Do you know that what is written as folklore once existed? Creatures like Ayakashis, Zenki, and Goki might have roamed the lands we call home. There isn’t much proof, but there was once a non-Zenin-affiliated shikigami summoner who insisted that the creatures they summoned were based on folklore. By calling out the name of the creature and offering a sacrifice, it is believed this person could summon these beings and even command them. I wonder if I will meet this person because I wish to know how he does it. 

It took Kiyotaka three months to gather the appropriate materials. He had three perfectly crafted origami animals: a tiger made of white paper, a yellow paper bird, and a blue paper dragon. He had also carved a two-headed turtle and two mostly humanoid figures. After work on a Friday afternoon, Kiyotaka grabbed the next book from the series he had started. Walking Towards the Light turned out to be a series with several books, and Kiyotaka found himself thoroughly enjoying it. Originally, he had planned to return the first book within a week, but instead, he had taken his time reading, treating it almost like a textbook for an upcoming test.

The first book, The Jujutsu World’s Connection to Religion, detailed the creation of the Big Three clans, revealing that they were not originally based on bloodlines but on belief. Individuals chose their clans based on religious sects, usually Shinto or Buddhist in nature. Yukari-sensei, along with Tengen-sama and Sukuna-san, had created a clan themselves, the difference being that most of its members were orphans or illegitimate children of prominent clan and temple leaders. Using his critical thinking skills, Kiyotaka couldn't imagine this situation ending well. Even in his time, illegitimate children were often poorly treated when adopted into their parent’s clan, and rumors of mysterious infant deaths were all too common. He shuddered to think how such things might have been handled during what was considered the “Golden Age” of Jujutsu.

In book two, The Pros and Cons of Energy, Yukari detailed her observations and experiences with different types of energy. Sukuna played a surprising role in this book, often explaining concepts in what he called “stupid speak,” because, as he put it, “Goddess knows neither Yukari nor Tengen can speak normally for us non-geniuses to understand.” No longer simply a colleague, Sukuna was now referred to as Yukari-sensei’s friend. This book took longer for Kiyotaka to read—it was dense, and filled with substance to ponder. It was also the book that started Kiyotaka on his fitness journey. He hadn’t been unfit before, just of average build for his height, but now, by taking the long way to work each day, he’d started to see the changes that Ken and Daisuke had mentioned a few weeks earlier.

Book three, the one Kiyotaka was currently reading, was titled All About Seals: From Talismans to Storage. In preparation, Kiyotaka had invested in a good brush, sheets of parchment, and some basic ink. Meanwhile, he continued his origami classes—only a week left now—and woodworking, which seemed to have no end in sight. Somehow, he had become Daisuke’s second apprentice, learning far more than he had originally signed up for. From selecting the right wood to learning joinery techniques, Kiyotaka couldn’t have been more satisfied. When he’d asked Daisuke what he owed him now that the lessons were ongoing, Daisuke had simply requested payment in alcohol. Naturally, Kiyotaka wanted no part in poisoning his sensei, so he instead brought a week’s worth of meals for both Daisuke and Ken. It was a win-win situation: Kiyotaka got to do meal prep and share meals with others, and the two of them got freshly cooked food. Sometimes, Kiyotaka even stopped by Daisuke’s house when class wasn’t in session, simply to share a meal.

Daisuke was more than satisfied with this arrangement, even suggesting that Kiyotaka marry Ken. Ken, on the other hand, was less than impressed to be “sold” in exchange for food.

“I’m worth more than this, Grandpa!” Ken had shouted, offended.

Daisuke had merely huffed. “You’re worth more than three types of filling dumplings, grilled fish, fresh rice, and cheesecake? And that’s just one meal? Get over yourself, brat.”

Kiyotaka and Ken, of course, weren’t going to get married. The fact that Ken was three years younger than Kiyotaka was a point of contention, and besides, they had become best friends. The realization had come gradually, built from shared glances when Daisuke got a little too drunk and they had to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. It had grown from after-work hangouts, where Ken showed Kiyotaka hidden gems around town—tiny watering holes and best-kept eateries that Kiyotaka would never have found on his own. One was dressed in a suit and tie, while the other was always decked in JDM Japanese coveralls. It was trips to parks to feed ducks and, at Daisuke’s insistence, geese, which he claimed was his “old man habit.”

“I picked it from a list!” Daisuke had said proudly.

Kiyotaka had given him a side-eye as he carried a bag of bread that was sure to be devoured by the fiercest geese Kiyotaka had ever seen.

No one had ever paid much attention to the quiet, punctual, wallflower Ijichi Kiyotaka. But here, sitting at the dinner table with Daisuke and Ken, Kiyotaka was seen, heard, and, if he was bold enough to say it, cherished. He couldn’t have been happier in his entire life.

And it was this joy that fueled him as he prepared to summon the tiny friends he had first met all those months ago.

On the counter of his kitchen, Kiyotaka carefully placed his cup of tea and the supplies he had gathered. Grabbing his phone, he scrolled through the playlist he had been building, hitting shuffle play. He was in the midst of trying an experiment; studies have shown that music helps with amplifying mood, so he has been carefully curating a list of positive lyric songs to play throughout the day.  He wasn't sure how well it was going; measurement of happiness due to only listening to music would be hard to quantify with so many things happening, but he figured he'd give it a try. The phone was silent for a second before SUN by Gen Hoshino started. With the music playing softly in the background, he set to work.

Unrolling a sheet of parchment, Kiyotaka carefully cut it into six equal-sized pieces. Humming along with the song, he flipped each sheet over, folded the top part slightly, and unfolded it to place a piece of string in the crease. Using a glue stick, he sealed the fold, gently pressing it into place. He flipped the pages back over.

With a steady hand, Kiyotaka used his newly purchased calligraphy pen to write a name on each sheet. Then, he wiped a needle with alcohol and pricked his finger, allowing a drop of blood to fall in the center of each page. After wiping his finger and applying a band-aid, he picked up his origami and wood carvings, tying a name to each as a flute started to play, signaling the beginning of Wagakki Band's Akatsuki no Ito.

He sat back in his chair, taking a sip of tea and surveying his work with a critical eye. Everything looked perfect. Satisfied, he placed his cup down. With his right hand, he tapped the dragon origami. His hands began to glow softly as he spoke aloud the name written on the sheet tied to its back.

“Seiryuu,” he said, moving on to the white tiger.

“Byakko,” he continued, tapping the bird next.

“Suzaku.” Now onto the wood carving.

“Genbu.” Finally, he brought both hands to the humanoid figures.

“Last but not least, Zenki and Goki.”

Finished, Kiyotaka held his breath in anticipation. Slowly, the air surrounding the items began to glow with a soft, warm light. Then, with a gentle flash, the carvings and origami came to life.

“Hello!” yelled Zenki, breaking into a weird little dance, wooden limbs making clanking sounds as they crashed together. Kiyotaka couldn’t help but laugh.

Chapter Text

Seals require a sturdy hand, a medium to transfer it to, and some kind of writing utensil. Sukuna has a particular penchant for inking his own skin, arguing that the fastest way to pull something from a storage seal is by having it tattooed directly on his body. He also tends not to wear much upper clothing, so take this advice with a grain of salt.

I could go on about the nuances of seal work, but I’ve recently relearned how to craft seals, discovering that the way my ancestors and I were taught was a more restrictive version. Here’s the key difference between a seal and a talisman: talismans require prayer. Whether written on paper or crafted into objects like omamori, talismans are fueled by spiritual prayer, usually left to professionals because the average person doesn’t have the spiritual power to sustain the prayer long enough.

Seals, on the other hand, require only intent. A seal from five hundred years ago, as long as it is maintained, can work just as well today as the day it was created. This can change if the seal is bloodwarded, but we’ll discuss that another time.

Recently, there’s been a surge in the creation of something called teru teru bozu. I find these little ghost-like charms fascinating, as they show the power of belief, especially among civilians. These weak, bald-headed figures are expected to stop draughts and bring about rain, and in theory, if enough of them are made, they could even halt dry spells. But shrines, temples, and clans don’t want people to know their true power, so they purposely break a few or instruct them to be made from poor materials. It should be obvious: if you want protection, you’d make your talisman from something sturdy. And, of course, the intent behind it must be deep and meaningful.

They have made people forget their power, making them create silly things that no one takes seriously. Now, we depend on them.

Who would call a priest if they knew they could bring rainfall with the right prayer? Talismans, in my opinion, are a physical request to the God or Goddess you pray to. What higher being would ignore such a clear plea?

Who would call a curse user to fight their battles and earn a profit, particularly if they are poor, if they knew a deep breath and a few talismans could make the curse go away? As Sukuna said, the hiding of knowledge has made us stupid, compliant, and weak. By learning these truths, you’ve put yourself in danger, but you’ve also made yourself stronger.

Be vigilant out there,

Yukari-sensei

In retrospect, it wasn’t the carving that had taken Kiyotaka so long to resummon the glowing paper children—it was discovering their names. They hadn’t said much before disappearing, leaving Kiyotaka with only vague memories to piece together their identities.

Kiyotaka was born in Kyoto and lived there until he was six, before moving due to his father’s new job in Tokyo. Seven hours was quite the commute, so Kiyotaka could count on one hand how many times his family had returned to Kyoto since then.

What kind of helpful spirits lived in Kyoto, again? The question buzzed through his mind as he went about his day. It wasn’t until he was washing the hair gel out of his hair that he remembered: the statues next to where his grandmother’s urn was stored. A tiger, a two-headed turtle, a dragon, and a bird made of painted plaster had been tucked into her storage locker. Kiyotaka visited twice a year, mainly to wipe down the dust that had gathered in his absence. He hadn’t been particularly close to her; she had chosen to stay in Kyoto, living in the family home. The last Kiyotaka heard, his parents had retired and moved back into that house.

It wasn’t really Kiyotaka’s business, but the thought felt like a step closer to answering the question that had haunted him for months. He dried his hair, the mantra he had adopted running through his mind almost unconsciously.

Once dressed in his loungewear, Kiyotaka flopped onto the couch with his phone in hand.

Who are the four guardians of Kyoto? he typed thoughtfully.

“The Azure Dragon of the East, the Vermilion Bird of the South, the White Tiger of the West, and the Black Tortoise (also called the ‘Black Warrior’) of the North. Where are their names? I already knew this,” Kiyotaka mumbled aloud.

What are the four guardians of Kyoto’s names? he typed next. He felt slightly embarrassed as if this should have been common knowledge.

“Azure Dragon Seiryuu, Vermilion Bird Suzaku, White Tiger Byakko, and Black Tortoise Genbu.” He nodded to himself. This is what I needed to find.

But his excitement quickly faded. What about the last two entities? Who were they?

In the end, Kiyotaka took a day off. The Director of the Auxiliary Department looked like he was about to have a stroke when he submitted his request.

“I didn’t know you knew what a break was,” the man said dryly. Nara-san, a balding man in his 50s, was a poor boss in every way imaginable. He had always disliked Kiyotaka, and it had taken Kiyotaka years to figure out why: he made Nara-san look bad. It was an irritating realization—who assigns someone so much work and is then upset when they excel? Nara-san, that’s who.

“I’m visiting my grandmother,” Kiyotaka replied calmly, though it seemed to annoy Nara-san even more.

“What a filial grandson,” Nara-san sneered. “Going anywhere special?”

Kiyotaka’s eyes twitched. He stood up and brushed his mildly sweaty palms on his pants.

“It would be rather strange to take an urn on a trip, don’t you think?” Kiyotaka said coolly. Nara-san’s smirk quickly disappeared as his jaw snapped shut.

“I’ll see you on Friday for the staff meeting... sir.” With that, Kiyotaka left, closing the office door behind him, leaving a startled supervisor in his wake.

As he walked back to his desk, he thought, 'How brazen of me.'

Kiyotaka lifted the box of cleaning supplies from his car with ease, heading toward the building where his grandmother’s ashes were stored. He nodded at the lady at the front desk of the gravesite and quietly made his way down the rows, passing the remains of other people’s loved ones. Finally, he stopped in front of the family grave, an obvious yet surprising thought settling in.

One day, I’ll be in here too.

He shook his head, as if to wave the thought away, and set the cleaning supplies down. Opening the glass case that held his grandmother’s remains, he began his task quietly and meticulously. One by one, he removed the statues from behind the glass, giving each a quick wipe. They looked exactly as he remembered. Next, he spritzed some glass cleaner on the framed picture, wiping it down with a microfiber cloth. A little all-purpose cleaner was sprayed onto another cloth and used to clean the frame.

With the duster in hand, he made quick work of the areas where dust had gathered, then finally reached for the urn. Carefully, Kiyotaka lifted it, giving it a gentle wipe before pausing, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Wait a second, what’s depicted on this?

 He leaned in closer, studying the urn more carefully. There was a long-haired woman on it, but her face was obscured by a rather frightening mask. What was it about this urn that Grandma liked so much?

"Remember, Kiyotaka," began Ijichi Sakura, her tone stern, her presence always commanding. As a child, Kiyotaka had been intimidated by her—she was the reason he’d been forced to wear a yukata instead of the jeans and t-shirts all the other neighborhood kids wore. 

"I shall be cremated and put in this here urn," she continued.

Unable to stop himself, young Kiyotaka had asked bluntly, "Why?"

Sakura had given him a dry look. "Your grandfather is in a matching one."

"Does it have a scary lady on it too?" he asked innocently.

"No, child. His has a different Oni. This one has Goki on it, and his has Zenki," she explained.

Kiyotaka tilted his head, unsure what that meant. She sighed, exasperated. "I’ll explain it later," she had said instead.

As Kiyotaka finished up, carefully placing everything back into the box, his mind drifted. The memory lingered, intertwining with his reflections as he nodded to the front desk clerk on his way out. During the drive back to Tokyo, his thoughts continued to swirl, trying to piece together a bigger picture. Seven hours later, stars twinkling completely obscured by the lights of the city, he finally arrived home, he decided there was no harm in trying out the names he had collected. 

Which led to the current chaotic scene in his apartment.

His (maybe?) shikigami were friendly enough, but Kiyotaka couldn’t help but think this all looked like a disaster waiting to happen. The four guardians—Seiryuu, Byakko, Suzaku, and Genbu—were walking around his apartment, quietly examining everything, but thankfully causing no disturbances.

Yet.

Chapter Text

Excerpt from Book 7, Walking Towards the Light: Observations of The Big Three:

The Gojo clan is a strange group of individuals. While most clans are connected by their shared deity and similar prayer practices, the Gojo clan has an additional layer of peculiarity—a strange co-dependency. Here are a couple of comments from a sort of friend within the Gojo clan that explain why this phenomenon occurs.

"We... obsess, I suppose is the best word, over people, to the point of inconvenience," Gojo Hisokai had explained to me. "Think of it from our perspective: if you’re blessed with the Six Eyes technique, you’re hypersensitive to curse energy. Everything has a little bit of cursed energy, and we can see it. It's overwhelming, causing seizures among our weakest. So, we need something to ground us, and the easiest way to do that is by picking people to anchor us. Humans, in general, tend to exude the most consistent output of cursed energy, so using them as a focus is the smartest option. Usually, we pick people we love or see regularly."

"Imagine having Limitless for a second. You have to actively work to let even sunlight in. I’ve seen many fall ill after receiving it because they couldn’t control the power they now wield. It takes someone who truly loves you to be recognized by the barrier as non-threatening. But this also leads to us becoming an echo chamber. Why bother finding new people when we can barely get leniency from the other clans, even though they should understand that we can’t help it?"

"That’s why I like you guys so much," Hisokai had added with a grin. "You don’t fully understand, but you accept me as I am."

One perfectly normal morning, by Satoru’s standards, was interrupted when Kiyotaka walked through the campus with the strangest-looking things Satoru had ever seen. Dressed in a long-sleeved athletic shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of athletic shorts, Kiyotaka had immediately caught Satoru’s attention. His kōhai was usually buttoned up in the standard manager’s outfit, so seeing him in casual athletic wear was already strange enough. But that wasn’t the most perplexing part—it was what Kiyotaka was carrying.

Three large wooden dolls and three gigantic origami animals.

Did origami usually come in that size?

Satoru blinked, his brain struggling to process the absurdity of it. The massive paper creatures bobbed gently with Kiyotaka’s steps, and the wooden dolls looked unnervingly lifelike.

Satoru squinted. Wait... are those cursed energy signatures?

His Six Eyes narrowed as he tried to focus, but the scene was still incomprehensible. This has to be a joke,  he thought, utterly baffled.

He stared harder, his eyes widening as he noticed tattoos on Kiyotaka’s forearms. Delicate circular designs of black and red ink covered his pale skin, interspersed with shapes like stars and flowers. The design cut off at the edge of Kiyotaka’s shirt, leaving Satoru wondering just how far up the tattoos went. When did Ijichi get them? He continued to stare from afar, questions swarming his brain.

And then one of the humanoid dolls lifted its head, its eyes glowing as it stared directly at Satoru.

Satoru’s heart skipped a beat. Never before had anyone seen him when he did his early morning people-watching -

 Oh God... I really am a stalker.

 If that thing told Kiyotaka how long he’d been staring, Kiyotaka would start noticing just how often Satoru—

I need to stop. Feeling a surge of embarrassment, Satoru tore his gaze away and headed off to sulk in front of Shoko. He was sure she must have jinxed him.

It was fairly obvious that the beings Kiyotaka had summoned were not the same ones he had called upon before. For starters, these were adults—and slightly unhinged ones at that. Seiryuu, Byakko, Suzaku, and Genbu were trailing after each other, inspecting every little thing in his apartment with wide-eyed curiosity.

"Summoner, what is this?" one of them asked, using a limb to point at an object.

"An electric socket," Kiyotaka responded dryly. They all turned to him with rapt attention.

"How does it work?" Genbu asked, tilting his head.

Kiyotaka opened his mouth to answer but stopped. "Do you... do you guys even know what electricity is?"

A chorus of confused noises answered him.

"Right... Uh, how do you explain electricity to someone who's never heard of it before?" he mumbled to himself. Electricity, electricity...

"OH! It’s like lightning, but man-made!" he explained. "We use it to power things like lights and other devices. The sockets control the flow of electricity so things don’t catch fire." He unplugged a cable from a nearby lamp, showing them the plug. "See? You plug things into these to control where the electricity goes. It can be annoying because sockets aren’t everywhere, but it’s safer this way."

He plugged the lamp back in and twisted the knob, flooding the corner of the room with light. Those with hands—or paws—clapped excitedly.

"Speaking of fires, please don’t mess around with these. You’re all made of highly flammable material."

"I know not what 'mess around' doth mean, yet shall I do mine utmost to hearken unto thy bidding!" Seiryuu said cheerfully. He had somehow started floating and was lazily circling the lamp. Zenki pointed at him, cackling.

"Dude, why do you sound like that?" Zenki teased.

Seiryuu’s flying became more erratic, and the folds of his paper form rustling like an irritated bird. "I know not of what thou speakest. Were I thee, I would tend to mine own self."

Kiyotaka stared at the two arguing entities before turning to the others, who were completely ignoring the bickering.

"...Is this a common thing?" Kiyotaka finally asked out loud.

Goki sighed, her exasperation nearly palpable. "Yes," she said, her voice chiming softly, almost musical—unlike any voice Kiyotaka had ever heard.

"You guys aren’t the ones I summoned before, are you?" The question escaped Kiyotaka before he could stop himself.

Goki and the others seemed amused. "We are not," Byakko rumbled.

"The ones you met before were Zenki’s and my children," Goki explained, her tone proud. "We’re pleased you summoned us first. It allows us to check what our sons have gotten themselves into."

Kiyotaka’s confusion deepened. "I don’t know if this is a mistake on humanity’s end, but you guys are said to have five sons... I met six, and one of them was a girl."

Zenki immediately stopped arguing with Seiryuu, his expression serious. "It appears we are going to have a conversation with our children."

Chapter Text

Kiyotaka’s life continued as his new normal, with the surprising addition of a new friend. Inoue Kazuko, his origami teacher, had offered to stay in contact after the class ended. In a rare show of courage, Kiyotaka invited her to join him and Ken for dinner. It turned out to be a great decision—Kazuko had slotted into their friendship duo, now a trio, as though she had always been there.

When her hair was down, she seemed like a completely different person. She could easily drink Daisuke under the table, and she’d shamelessly loop her arms through both of "her boys," as she started calling Kiyotaka and Ken, on their way to dinners. Kazuko still had her elegance, but to Kiyotaka, it was as though a songbird had finally been freed from its cage. She even outclassed Ken in terms of goofiness, throwing innuendos around without hesitation, face always neutral. She was shameless really. 

She called Daisuke "Ji-san" without a second thought, and surprisingly, Daisuke didn’t seem to mind. Life was going well. That’s why, in mid-autumn, in the midst of preparing dinner at Daisuke’s house, something crazy happened.

"Mail for Matsumoto Daisuke!" yelled the delivery man instead of offering a greeting.

Kiyotaka froze, the potato he was holding slipping from his grasp and rolling across the floor.

Matsumoto Daisuke?! Kiyotaka screamed internally. I ’ve been taking classes—FOR FREE—from THE Matsumoto Daisuke?! The cursed weapon builder genius who suddenly disappeared 12 years ago?!

Ken, still chopping onions, stopped and blinked at him. "Uh… you okay?" he asked, confusion settling on his face as Kiyotaka stood there, stunned.

Kiyotaka opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. When he finally managed to speak, it came out as a semi-hysterical laugh.

"Right…" Ken set down the knife, washed his hands, and grabbed a nearby dish towel. "How about you sit down, maybe get a glass of water?" He guided Kiyotaka, who was still mumbling incoherently, over to a chair. Kiyotaka sat down heavily, lost in thought.

Just then, Daisuke appeared with Kazuko on his heels. Both of them stopped in front of Kiyotaka and Ken.

"What's wrong with this one?" Daisuke asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Kazuko poked at Kiyotaka’s shoulder. "He’s gone all weird. What happened?"

Ken shrugged. "I dunno. The mailman showed up—kind of late for our neighborhood, actually—and since then, he’s been like this."

Kazuko raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "Was the mailman hideous or ridiculously handsome or something?" she teased.

Ken and Daisuke exchanged confused glances. "Uh, no?" Ken replied after a beat.

Kazuko hummed in response. "Alright, Kiyotaka-kun, spill. What’s going on so we can fix it."

Kiyotaka mumbled something, too quietly for anyone to hear.

"Is it just my old ears, or did I miss all of that?" Daisuke grumbled.

"Nah, Gramps, we didn’t hear anything either," Ken chimed in, nudging Kiyotaka. "Oi, Kiyotaka-kun, speak up!"

Kiyotaka finally blurted out, "I can't believe I've been taking woodworking classes with THE Matsumoto Daisuke!" His voice was filled with sudden reverence.

Daisuke and Ken shared a look.

"...Wait, are you telling us you never heard Ji-san’s and Ken’s last name before?" Kazuko asked incredulously.

Both Ken and Daisuke’s expressions shifted to disbelief as the realization dawned on them.

"Bro, no freaking way," Ken muttered. "I definitely said my full name at least once. Like, when I introduced myself to Kazuko-chan!"

"I wasn’t paying attention!" Kiyotaka protested. "We met inside the restaurant, and I had to check for curses—" He instantly slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.

Everyone fell silent, their gazes locking on Kiyotaka. Then they looked at each other. Slowly, a wild grin spread across Kazuko’s face.

"No way… You guys know about curses too?"

They decided to hold off on the deeper conversation until after dinner was made and eaten. Once the dishes were washed and the kitchen cleaned, Kazuko finally broke the silence.

"My family’s cursed technique is pretty weak," Kazuko began, folding a piece of paper swiftly. "We can control objects we create. It’s limited in scope, but..." She trailed off as she blew softly on the paper. The origami butterfly she’d just folded began to flap its wings, flying gracefully around the room. Kiyotaka watched closely, noticing thin threads of cursed energy connecting the butterfly to Kazuko’s fingers. It moved with the same grace as its creator, floating in loops around the room before gently landing on the table. It gave one last delicate flap before becoming still.

"Wow," Kiyotaka and Ken said in unison, their voices full of awe.

Daisuke rubbed his beard thoughtfully, but before he could say anything, Kiyotaka’s curiosity burst forth.

"What do you mean ‘limited in scope’? You could write messages on the paper and send them anywhere! How far can it go from you? Does the type of paper matter as long as you can fold it? Have you tried waterproof paper? Can you use—"

Ken cut him off with a laugh. "Breathe, Kiyotaka-kun! I’ve never seen you like this."

Kiyotaka blushed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry, I got too excited."

Kazuko shook her head quickly, her eyes soft. "No, it’s fine. More than fine, really." Her voice cracked slightly, and she blinked back tears. "No one’s ever been this excited about my technique before." In that moment, Kiyotaka’s genuine curiosity healed a small part of her, an old wound she hadn’t even realized was still there. She steeled her shoulders, her resolve hardening.

"I’ve… I’ve never really experimented with it before," she admitted, her eyes shining with a newfound determination. "But I think I’d like to try."

Kiyotaka beamed. "Of course!"

"Help me too!" Ken jumped in eagerly. "I can make things sharp and embed a little cursed energy, but that’s about it." He looked at Kiyotaka with excitement, waiting for his reaction.

Kiyotaka didn’t disappoint, his eyes lighting up as he bounced in place. "That’s so cool! Have you tried making weapons?"

Ken’s enthusiasm faltered, his eyes darting nervously to Daisuke before quickly shifting back to Kiyotaka. "Err… no," he admitted.

"And if I have my way, you’ll never make weapons," Daisuke snapped.

Kiyotaka and Kazuko leaned back, taken aback by the sharpness in his tone.

"...Can I ask why?" Kiyotaka asked softly, careful not to provoke further anger.

Daisuke’s face darkened, and his voice thundered, "THAT DAMN CAREER NEARLY RUINED MY LIFE! KEN'S LIFE! AND YOU EXPECT ME TO LET MY ONLY GRANDSON GO DOWN THAT SAME PATH?! OVER MY DEAD BODY!"

The room fell silent, the intensity of Daisuke’s outburst leaving everyone stunned. Neither Kiyotaka nor Kazuko had ever seen him like this before. Daisuke was usually dry-witted, humorous, and patient. Sure, he’d give them a sharp smack on the hand if they were making mistakes in their lessons, but they had never seen this side of him—this raw, seething anger.

Kazuko quietly rose from her chair and moved to kneel beside Daisuke. Gently, she took his left hand in hers and asked in a soft, soothing voice, "Ji-san, can you explain to us what happened? Kiyo and I aren’t accusing you… we just want to understand."

Daisuke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his shoulders visibly tense as he tried to collect himself.

Chapter Text

Even in this new society, some remain oppressed: Cursed Energy (C.E.) and Reverse Cursed Energy (R.C.E.) users who are not clan members, blue-collar workers, and apprentices. I’ve heard countless stories of the craftsmen behind cursed tools, the apprentices from the temples forced to essentially slave away to keep up with demand. The quality of their work has dropped as well; in the rush to arm clan members across Japan, detail, distinction, and the joy of the builders are sacrificed.

At our school, we require our craftsmen to create something only once a month, and we give them full creative liberty. I want the main energy in these creations to be joy and passion. We’ve found that when these emotions are embedded into the weaponry, the weapons not only become stronger but also last far longer. We must restore respect and dignity to such important work. Without proper support, we risk the lives of C.E. users who depend on these tools to do their job.

Hope all is well,

Yukari-Sensei

"This is a story I haven’t even told Ken," Daisuke confessed, his voice quieter now. His earlier outburst had subsided, leaving a tense calm in the room. They had moved into the living room, Ken sprawled on the floor with an arm resting near Daisuke’s feet. Kiyotaka and Kazuko sat on either side of Daisuke on the couch, a blanket draped over Daisuke’s shoulders. For the first time, he looked every bit of his 68 years.

"My family has always been cursed weapons makers, dating all the way back to the Heian Era. We started as a makeshift group of friends and family members serving under a clan made up of illegitimate children and orphans who could use cursed energy—the Hoshikage Clan."

Kiyotaka audibly gasped, his breath catching in his throat. Daisuke gave him a knowing look.

"You’ve heard of them," Daisuke stated.

Kiyotaka nodded slowly. "I’ve been reading the teachings left behind by Yukari-Sensei," he admitted, still processing the connection.

Daisuke’s eyes widened in surprise. "You’re an heir then. The last person to hold that title passed away when I was younger than you are now. After his death, we had to choose: leave and go out into the world or stay on the clan compound. Those who stayed—well, I heard they learned things like installing the internet, so the world didn’t leave them completely behind. When I first met you, I thought you might’ve been the child of someone who had left, like I did."

Kiyotaka blushed, his expression modest. "I only recently learned how to use positive energy—back in late April, right after my birthday... so about six months ago."

Daisuke’s eyes lit up with delight. "Back home, that would’ve been a huge deal," he said, smiling proudly.

"Err, why?" Kazuko asked, curiosity piqued.

"Being able to use positive energy is a rare thing," Daisuke explained. "Information on it is hard to come by because it's depends on the person and their learning styles. And if someone’s positive energy shows up around their early to mid-20s without any indication, that means they’ve got a lot of it. So, tell us, kid, since you're the only one who hasn’t explained their cursed technique—what is it you can do?"

Kiyotaka hesitated for a moment before rolling up the sleeves of his light green sweater, revealing intricate tattoos etched into his skin. With a small pulse of positive energy, the tattoos began to move, twisting and shifting as if alive.

"A seal master..." Daisuke breathed, awe evident in his voice.

"Not quite," Kiyotaka corrected. "I still have a lot to learn before I can call myself that. And... I don’t have a cursed technique," he added, startling everyone.

"You don’t?!" Ken exclaimed, disbelief clear in his voice.

Kiyotaka scratched the back of his head, sheepishly. "Not at all. I can cast simple barriers and veils, but my actual job is Assistant Director at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical High School. I deal with paperwork, coordinate the auxiliary managers in Tokyo, and sometimes across Japan. It’s not glamorous or prestigious, but I’m honored by my position because of the impact I have. Even though I can’t fight, I can still make a difference and help save lives."

In Jujutsu society, Kiyotaka’s position would typically be regarded as low-status, a thankless role. But here, surrounded by people who treated him with respect, Kiyotaka found the courage to voice the pride he felt in his work. Despite the trash boss, the rambunctious students he had to chase after, and the lack of recognition from sorcerers, he could admit that his work mattered—and that was enough to keep him going.

"I do have a positive energy technique, though!" Kiyotaka dug into the pockets of his slim-straight jeans and pulled out a small, round, black container. Popping it open, he extracted a tiny gray plastic item.

"What is—" Ken started to ask, before gasping as Kiyotaka twisted the top and revealed a needle. Without hesitation, Kiyotaka pricked his right thumb, pressing until blood pooled. He smeared the blood over two of the tattoos on his left arm.

With a soft pop and a puff of white smoke, the tattoos manifested into two physical objects: a laundry soap container and a wooden doll, about the size of a two-year-old child. Kiyotaka placed both on the table, his right hand glowing as he tapped the doll’s head.

"Goki," he said, and the doll stretched, its joints making a soft clanking sound.

"Hello, Kiyotaka-sama!" Goki greeted, her wooden face tilting toward the others. "Ah, is it time for me to meet your Sensei and friends?" she asked with a laugh.

Kiyotaka rolled his eyes. "Stop teasing me, Goki-san."

He turned to the others. "While I can summon shikigami, I recently learned that what I've started to summon are actually Ayakashi."

Goki bowed elegantly. "Nice to meet you all. My name is Goki, half of the Goki and Zenki duo. I am also the leader of the Ayakashi Kiyotaka-sama summons. I’d be more than happy to answer any questions you may have."

Kiyotaka vividly remembered the day Goki earned her title. He wished it had been a battle of wits, but it was a full-on battle royale, complete with a tournament-style bracket of one-on-one fights and physical altercations. Fortunately, the chaos had taken place outside, in the courtyard in front of the library, unseen by everyone. It was the first time he had set up a barrier just for himself, watching his Ayakashi throw themselves at each other with wild abandon. Thankfully nothing had been broken—if it had happened indoors… Kiyotaka shuddered at the thought.

Unbeknownst to him at the time, it was also the day Goki had made eye contact with Gojo Satoru, and she had been biding her time ever since, waiting for a dramatic confrontation with him.

She understood, of course, that her summoner was quite adorable—especially now that he wasn’t trying to shrink himself by half a foot and had begun dressing in more tasteful attire. Goki had also heard that Kazuko had threatened bodily harm if Kiyotaka dared to cut his hair again, so he had allowed it to grow into a fluffy, slightly unruly mop. Goki couldn’t help but notice that it would probably need trimming soon, itching to find a pair of sharp scissors to give the mop some shape. Just this past week, Kiyotaka had been particularly frustrated, trying in vain to gel it back into place, resulting in an... interesting style that had both amused and confused her. 

More often than not, that was her general feeling about her summoner. Watching him navigate life was like observing a clumsy sapling trying to stand tall in a storm—endearing, but often exasperating. In a way, she felt as if she was raising another child. Her sons had already found their place in the world, but this wallflower still needed guidance to grow into a strong, dependable tree.

Speaking of which...

"Ms. Kazuko?" Goki asked suddenly.

"Yes?" Kazuko responded, confused.

"I need a favor," Goki said bluntly.

Kazuko leaned in, giving the doll her full attention. "How can I be of service, Mrs. Goki?"

"Kiyotaka-sama... needs a new wardrobe." Kiyotaka squawked indignantly, but Goki continued, ignoring him. "I would prefer if most of his current clothes were burned, but more importantly, he needs better-fitting attire now that he’s gained muscle—and possibly a few inches in height."

Everyone turned to scrutinize Kiyotaka, eyes narrowing as they realized that somehow, at 25, he had gained some height. It wasn’t something anyone had immediately noticed, but standing there with his improved posture and newfound confidence, it was clear he had grown—not just emotionally but physically too.

"Hmmm..." they all hummed in unison.

"You’ll need a couple of sets of traditional clothing as well," Daisuke added.

Kiyotaka blinked in confusion. "Why?"

Daisuke smirked. "Remember what I said earlier about you being an heir?"

The others nodded in agreement, while Goki watched with amusement, sensing where this was heading.

"You’ll need to introduce yourself to the rest of the clan," Daisuke explained. "That means people out here, but also, you might be able to pass through the barrier Tengen-sama set up around the Hoshikage Clan’s land. You’d probably need to ask for his permission first."

Kiyotaka’s face turned pale, almost blue.

"It should be fine, though. His main consciousness is at Tokyo Tech High," Daisuke continued, completely oblivious to Kiyotaka’s growing distress.

Kiyotaka let out a muffled scream into his hands, while Goki mockingly patted his arm with her tiny wooden hand.

Chapter Text

I had mentioned in a prior book that I would go into detail about what went into creating the concealment veil for the school and our clan's grounds. Today, I’ll fulfill that promise, so prepare yourself.

The MOST important thing is a willing medium. If the person, animal, or even a tree is unwilling to participate, you will have a very faulty veil. Sukuna, Tengen, and I chose ourselves as the medium that will hold this protection for future generations. This decision was made for two key reasons:

Our intent is pure—to protect and nurture future generations, allowing them to grow, learn, and be loved under our shield, free from discrimination.

With Tengen’s immense power in Cursed Energy, my equal footing in Positive Energy, and Sukuna’s ability to wield both, we created a veil that offered an extra layer of protection. It allowed us to avoid the limitations of using only one energy source. C.E. has its limits, and P.E. requires such careful control that executing this on such a scale would have been nearly impossible otherwise.

One could argue that what we were doing wasn’t purely Cursed or Positive Energy, but something more. I’d love to say I don’t care, but as a researcher, you know that isn’t the case. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to dig into such a large project. It would be much easier with an assistant, but alas, life doesn’t often grant us such luxuries.

Wish you were here,

Yukari-Sensei

With a deep breath to steady himself, Kiyotaka descended into a forgotten section of the school. Dusty stairs creaked underfoot, and the dim hallway led him to a massive set of doors that towered above him, waiting. His heart raced. After taking a moment to gather his courage, he pushed the heavy doors open, stepping into the vast expanse known as the Tombs of the Star Corridor.

The sheer size of the place left him momentarily breathless. He had heard rumors that the space could rival the size of Tokyo, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. The world around him seemed to stop, the silence so profound it was deafening.

Suddenly, the doors slammed shut behind him, causing Kiyotaka to jump in surprise. This wasn’t what he had signed up for. Swallowing his fear, he took a shaky step forward. Then another.

“I am one with the universe, and the universe is one with me,” he muttered under his breath, grounding himself as he reached a ledge overlooking a broken building. The destruction from the battle between Geto Suguru and Fushiguro Toji was still evident, even over a decade later. Outside, nature would have reclaimed the land by now, with vines overtaking crumbling buildings and trees competing for sunlight.

But here, in the Tombs of the Star Corridor, nature couldn’t touch it. Kiyotaka recalled reading in Book 3, All About Seals: From Talismans to Storage, about why this place existed. It was meant to serve as a bunker for the Hoshikage Clan in case of attack. A series of teleportation seals once connected it to the rest of the clan’s domain, but that was no longer the case. Kiyotaka was planning to use this as a bargaining chip.

It had taken him a week to find the right time to visit the Corridor. No one came here, especially not after it became a crime scene. Kiyotaka had stayed behind at work, using the two-hour window when the building would be empty, including the skeleton crew. He scanned the area, unsure where to go to reach the large tree.

Clearing his throat, he called out, “Uh, Tengen-sama? If possible, could I speak with you or set up a time to come back?”

A deep groaning echoed through the space as the massive tree stretched, its branches shifting.

“Hmm… Ijichi Kiyotaka.” The voice reverberated from all directions. “I see that you’ve discovered your true potential… congratulations.”

Kiyotaka blinked, surprised. “Thank you?” he replied hesitantly.

A low rumble of laughter followed. “It was a compliment. Now, I care little for pleasantries. Tell me why you are here.”

Kiyotaka swallowed, steeling himself. His heart pounded in his chest, the enormity of what he was about to suggest settling over him. But he had no other choice. “I recently learned that I am an heir to the Hoshikage Clan. I’d like to visit the clan compound to pay my respects. I understand you hold the key, so to speak, to allow me to do that?”

The tree creaked again, and Kiyotaka could almost swear it was leaning toward him, scrutinizing his request. The silence stretched for a moment before Tengen spoke again, his voice vibrating through the air like a low hum.

“You seek access to the compound… and as heir, you have a right to it. But rights are not always freely given.”

Kiyotaka took a deep breath. “I have a bargain that I think you’ll be interested in.” The tree stilled as if considering his words.

“Is that so? Pray tell, young sorcerer—what can you offer me?”

Gathering his courage, Kiyotaka clenched his fists at his sides. “I read that you used to roam the earth with the Hoshikage.” He paused, and Tengen hummed in acknowledgment.

“I did. Those times are long gone now, however.”

Kiyotaka pressed on. “I researched why your barrier still stands so strong, even though Kyoto Tech, Tokyo Tech, and the Hoshikage compound are nowhere near each other. Yukari-sensei mentioned several safe havens that no longer exist.”

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his notes. “I traveled to 24 potential locations implied by old maps and texts. All of those places are gone. You don’t protect more places because you can’t, not because you don’t want to.”

Tengen’s laughter filled the room. “Indeed. No one wishes to be trapped in a basement. But how will you use this information as leverage?”

Kiyotaka steadied his voice. “Let me see the barrier stone here so I can compare my notes. Afterward, I’ll build new barrier stones in different locations, allowing you to experience the 21st century.”

A branch lowered, forming a bridge for Kiyotaka to step onto. The air crackled with energy as Tengen’s voice deepened. “I will accept this deal on one condition. There is something only you, with your… unique talents, can accomplish. I need you to build me a form to travel in.”

Kiyotaka hesitated as he stepped onto the branch. “A form? What do you mean?”

“My current appearance would be… ghastly to most, sorcerers and civilians alike,” Tengen admitted. As the branch carried Kiyotaka down, a part of the massive trunk shifted. Slowly, it opened like a grand, ancient door, revealing… Kiyotaka’s breath caught. A humanoid figure, twisted and grotesque, stood within. Six eyes blinked out from a face distorted by centuries of isolation and then some. Kiyotaka recoiled, hissing in sympathy.

“Even you find me deplorable,” Tengen pointed out. Kiyotaka was quick with a rebuttal.

“No, no! That's not why I made that noise! It looks like you are in a great deal of pain. What… caused this?”

“This is what happens when I don’t absorb a Star Plasma Vessel,” Tengen explained, his voice still resonating from multiple directions.

Kiyotaka hummed, nodding but not really understanding. “I can see why that would be… problematic.” He paused, thinking. “It’ll take time to create a suitable human form for you, though.”

“Very well. I will set the terms when we next meet. Be prepared, Ijichi Kiyotaka. The Hoshikage Clan demands nothing less than your full potential.”

Kiyotaka glanced at Tengen, feeling a mixture of awe and unease. “When is the next time you wish to see me?” he asked.

Tengen’s voice echoed one last time. “Come at your earliest convenience. Time is not something I lack, but you may not be able to remain unnoticed here for long.”

Kiyotaka nodded, hurrying back up the branch and through the doors, his heart racing as he made his way back to his office.

Chapter Text

"I called this meeting because Tengen wants a human body," Kiyotaka announced to Ken, Daisuke, and Kazuko, his voice serious. Their reactions varied, ranging from disbelief to amusement.

"...Boy, what does that mean? Have they not had a human body—" Daisuke began, but was quickly interrupted by Ken's sudden outburst.

"Is Tengen an alien?!" Ken exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement.

"I don't think so?" Kiyotaka replied, though there was hesitation in his voice. He swallowed heavily, carefully choosing his next words. "All I know is—this isn’t public information, so keep it to yourselves—for Tengen to maintain their humanity, there is a ritual... one where a girl is sacrificed to him. It's... pretty messed up."

"We're sacrificing children?!" Kazuko hissed, her tone sharp and incredulous. "Are we grabbing random girls off the street? Because what the actual hell—is Jujutsu society involved in human trafficking now?"

Kiyotaka shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "They aren't random girls. They're called Star Maidens. I asked Tengen-sama what made them so special, and I noticed a pattern. They're always orphaned girls set to inherit wealth soon. They always have a nanny with them, and after the ritual, they disappear, never to be seen again."

"...And what did Tengen say?" Ken asked warily, his earlier excitement completely gone.

"The Star Maidens are incarnations of Tengen," Kiyotaka replied, his tone more somber.

"Wait, what?" Daisuke spluttered, throwing his hands up in frustration. "How can you be reincarnated if you're still alive? That doesn’t even make sense!"

"Tengen is a half-curse," Kiyotaka explained slowly. "Half of them is constantly thrown back into reincarnation, waiting to reconnect. The Star Maidens are fragments of Tengen, but the ritual that sacrifices them back... it's wrong. It’s not the correct way to complete the cycle."

"Why not?" Kazuko asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Tengen was once an immortal human, but now they're mostly a cursed being," Kiyotaka said, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Something happened between the time the barriers were established and now, and they won't tell me what."

The room was filled with tense silence as Kiyotaka's irritation hung in the air. The others looked at varying degrees of frustration, though Ken mostly seemed concerned. Daisuke leaned back in his chair heavily, letting out a tired sigh.

"So, what timeline do we have?" Daisuke asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"What?" Kiyotaka blinked, caught off guard.

Daisuke rolled his eyes, looking at him as if stating the obvious. "When does the project need to be completed?"

"I understood the question. I'm just surprised you want to help," Kiyotaka admitted, flushing slightly.

Everyone gave him disapproving looks.

"You really should rely on us a lot more, Kiyotaka-kun," Ken gently scolded, shaking his head.

"And this is about our clan too," Daisuke added gruffly. "Once you become head of the Hoshikage Clan, you can formally add Kazuko into the fold. So you'd better start preparing for the training that's going to take." He stretched, his arms and neck cracking loudly. The others exchanged concerned glances.

"This is going to take some time to build," Daisuke continued, "and all of you have your own work, with Ken finishing up his last year of college."

Kazuko, who had been silent, finally spoke. "We'll make it work. But Kiyotaka... you don't need to do this alone. Not this time."

Kiyotaka nodded, his heart lighter.

That following weekend, on a cool Saturday morning, the four of them stood in front of a gigantic shed hiding the Jujutsu world's most famous workshop. Daisuke walked slowly, his arms clasped behind his back. The younger three followed behind him, each carrying cleaning supplies.

"I haven't been in this damn place since Ken was eight. We might have to fight a couple of animals if I'm being honest," Daisuke confessed, giving a sidelong glance to the trio behind him.

"I can't stand rats," Kazuko admitted. Kiyotaka looked at her with sympathy.

"I can send in a couple of my Ayakashi first," he offered.

"It haaas been a while since we've seen them!" Ken chimed in. Down the semi-overgrown cobblestone path, creeping with grass, they went until Daisuke stopped in front of a small building shaded by a large tree.

"Welcome to my workshop, kids. Get your elbow grease ready."

All things considered, the workshop was in relatively good condition. Sure, it was covered in dust, and there were a couple of tools with rust on them that they'd have to clean off, but the fear of an animal invasion and nature fighting back was practically unfounded. Ken was very excited, bouncing around as he went, finally able to see the room where his grandfather built his entire legacy.

With the help of all 12 of Kiyotaka's summonable Ayakashi—the four guardians of Kyoto, Zenki, and Goki, their five children: Shingi, Gitsugu, Gijo, Gitatsu, and Gigen—and the mysterious sixth voice, which was actually a Jorōgumo, one that had been bored and hung out with the boys because they liked to get into some mild mischief. She was still young, asking for a spider body when she had been summoned the first time around after Kiyotaka had gotten the hang of bringing his Ayakashi through and from the world they resided in. He had asked her what her name was, but she had replied:

"I don't have one; Jorōgumo don't have a need for one." Kiyotaka disagreed, giving her the name Murasaki, as she had requested the use of purple to adorn her frame. There was also the fact that Kiyotaka knew a dangerous being when he saw one, and her name had a second part to it—Murasaki Noda—named after a beautiful but poisonous plant. Goki had given him an amused look, knowing full well what her summoner was thinking. 
Although initially apprehensive of Mura-chan, as she was now called, Goki had grown fond of her over time, much to Kiyotaka's mixed relief and stress.

The memory of the scolding the boys had received after Kiyotaka let it slip that they had brought an unknown entity to meet him still made him wince. The reprimand had lasted a full hour—delivered by both parents. Kiyotaka had been tasked with making paper dolls once again so an emergency family meeting was called so that the boys could be held responsible. 

“Not only have you been spending time with someone without informing us, but you brought this unknown entity to Kiyotaka-sama?” Goki had said with an eerie calmness that sent chills down everyone's spine. Kiyotaka wasn’t sure why, but goosebumps prickled his arms.

"You five, while having lived longer than most humans, are still young by Ayakashi standards. Jorōgumos should not be taken lightly—they are dangerous, particularly to men. They will exploit any weaknesses they find. Fortunately for us, Murasaki-chan is still young and has proven to be a useful ally. However, do not—I repeat, do not—ever pull a stunt like this again.” 

When the sunset pooled a lovely orange color through the windows ("My wife insisted on the natural lighting," Daisuke explained, slightly sad when the kids made fun of his strangely aesthetically pleasing workshop), they tied the last bag of trashed wipes, gloves, and face masks, dumped the filthy water outside, and looked at their handiwork.

"Grab some dry wood," Daisuke ordered the rest. "I'm going to turn this furnace on for a test run." Scrambling, everyone grabbed a couple of pieces of wood and watched as Daisuke opened a drawer, pulling out some kindling. They watched the master work.

He knelt down in front of the furnace, opening its heavy metal door. Carefully, he placed the kindling at the bottom, arranging it in a small pile with some crumpled newspaper. "You want to start with the small stuff," Daisuke explained as he placed the thinnest, driest sticks atop the kindling. "This is what's going to catch the flame first."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a matchbox, striking one of the matches against the box's edge. The flame flickered to life, and Daisuke carefully touched it to the newspaper, watching as the fire slowly began to spread.

"Once the kindling starts burning, you can add your bigger pieces of wood," he continued, adding a few small logs on top, leaving enough space between them to allow air to flow. The fire caught quickly, and he added a few more logs, building it up gradually.

"You don't want to choke the fire by overloading it," Daisuke explained. "Make sure there's room for the air to circulate. Once the fire's strong enough, you can close the furnace door. The heat will build up fast, and the wood will burn efficiently."

With the door shut, the fire roared to life inside, the heat already starting to radiate outward. The room warmed, and Daisuke stepped back, satisfied. "That's how you do it. Now we let the furnace do its work."

Kiyotaka watched with wonder in his eyes as the workshop seemed to activate. The space around him buzzed to life, seals in every nook and cranny of the floor and machinery they had just cleaned. It was as if it were a living, breathing entity. Large, well-worn wooden workbenches lined the walls, each covered in an assortment of tools—hammers, chisels, files, and tongs—all arranged meticulously by size and function. This organization was done by Daisuke as everyone had been cleaning, his eyes and hands carefully placing item after item in its rightful place.

The air was starting to fill with the faint scent of metal and wood, mingling with the unmistakable smell of the cursed energy signature he had come to associate with Daisuke—the sharp, crisp scent of pine and early morning winters when the world was coated in a fresh blanket of snow. This was a room built both by and for Daisuke, and his presence radiated from every corner.

To his left, a massive anvil sat at the center of a raised platform, its surface marred with dents and scratches from countless strikes. Above it hung an array of blacksmithing hammers, varying in weight and purpose, ready for the next piece of cursed weaponry to be forged.

The furnace at the center of the room continued to roar to life, glowing with intense orange heat, the flames licking at the interior walls. A bellows pump sat waiting, its handles ready to control the flow of air that would fuel the fire hotter and hotter. Large crucibles stood nearby, ready to melt metal into liquid form, and sturdy tongs were positioned just within reach to transfer molten metal to cast iron molds.

The sound of grinding echoed from one side of the workshop, where a large, foot-powered grinding wheel spun in rhythm briefly by Daisuke. The wheel's rough surface sparked with each pass, waiting for a blade to sharpen. Daisuke nodded his head in satisfaction and moved on. Nearby, a water quenching tank bubbled softly, waiting to cool and temper the heated steel as Daisuke twisted the valve to let the water run. At first, the water came out with a strange smell and looked discolored—rusty and sediment-filled, but soon cleared, revealing perfectly clean water.

In the back corner, a hydraulic press towered over the other machines, its sheer size intimidating. It was used for stamping intricate designs into the weapons, its heavy mechanism capable of applying tremendous force. Next to it stood a power hammer, its mechanical arm poised above a metal plate, ready to shape raw materials with precise, thunderous blows.

Shelves lined the walls, filled with rows of raw materials—steel, iron, and rare metals used for creating specialized weapons. There were also rows of carefully labeled containers, holding various powders, oils, and enchanted materials used for imbuing the weapons with cursed energy or other mystical properties.

A forge hood hung above the furnace, sucking away the smoke and soot that threatened to choke the air. High above, rafters were strung with hanging chains and pulleys, used for hoisting heavy materials into place. The walls bore mounted blueprints and sketches of swords, spears, and cursed tools, each design meticulously detailed with measurements and notes.

It was a place of creation, precision, and raw power, and as the workshop thrummed with energy, Kiyotaka felt the weight of its history and the many years that a single pair of hands had worked in this sacred space before him. Now, he had the honor and immense privilege of working here. It was humbling, and he turned to look at his two friends. Kazuko's eyes widened with fascination, her hands twitching to touch. Ken gazed around with wide-eyed reverence like he couldn't believe he was standing in the very room where his grandfather’s legendary work had taken place.

Daisuke walked up to them with a carving knife in hand.

"There is a tradition that all new blacksmiths must go through," he began, watching the three in front of him. They looked at him, surprised. He rolled his eyes at them, although the illusion of fake annoyance was broken by the small smile gracing his face. "Before you even hold a hammer or pick a piece of metal for your first piece to forge, you must carve your name onto the corner of a workbench. This is you recognizing those who came before you and establishing yourself to those who will come after you. You are agreeing to live the life of a blacksmith—to put your blood, sweat, and tears into everything you create, and to never use the skills you learn here for evil. If you think this is too much, feel free to decline right here, right now. If you accept this, then take this," he offered the carving knife.

The three looked at each other, sizing each other up.

Finally, a grin spread across Ken's face, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Without hesitation, he reached for the knife, taking it from Daisuke's hands as though accepting an unspoken challenge. "You worry too much, Gramps," he teased gently. "We were hoping this would happen! Now, where do I carve?"

Chapter Text

The metallic sound reverberated through the workshop with each slam of the hammer, the force of Kiyotaka's fury channeled directly into the glowing, molten metal beneath him.

Klang!

Klang!

KLANG!

Ken and Daisuke exchanged wary glances as they watched from a safe distance. Kiyotaka, typically calm and methodical, was practically radiating a dark aura, the sheer intensity of his mood making the air feel thick with tension. Ken, who had been munching on an apple, arched his eyebrows and glanced over at his grandfather.

"Whatever Kiyo-nii’s making is gonna be insane," Ken remarked through a bite, trying to keep his voice casual.

Daisuke hummed in agreement, rubbing his temples as if mentally preparing for what was to come. "We’ll cross that bridge when it gets dangerous," he replied dryly, watching Kiyotaka with a sense of growing concern.

Across the workshop, Kiyotaka was silently seething. His mind was consumed by thoughts of Gojo Satoru, who had reverted to being his biggest annoyance after what Kiyotaka had hoped was a phase of relative calm. Just when he'd thought Satoru was finally backing off, the man had returned to his old ways, making Kiyotaka’s life a living nightmare again. The staring had been unsettling enough (something Kiyotaka himself didn’t even notice until Murasaki pointed it out, much to Goki’s exasperation), but now Satoru had leveled up his annoyance game.

Not only was he demanding Kiyotaka be his personal chauffeur, but he was also eating his lunch—Kiyotaka’s carefully prepared, delicious bento boxes—without so much as a second thought. And if that weren’t enough, the man was constantly finding ways to disrupt Kiyotaka’s day. It was becoming unbearable.

Kiyotaka’s hands tightened on the hammer’s handle, and his lips pulled into a grim line. He briefly considered sending Gojo on a mission to the coldest, most remote region possible next week, Nara-san had given him the usernames and passwords for all the programs that would give him the ability to do that(so he could shove more work onto Kiyotaka’s plate) just for the petty satisfaction of it. Not that it would do much against Limitless, but one could dream.

And so, on this chilly December evening in 2015, Kiyotaka found himself in the forge, hammering away at a piece of metal that would likely become something deeply unsettling for whoever dared to touch it. Anger-fueled creations were never for the faint-hearted, and this one was no exception, coming from the hands of a novice or not.

He had already worked his frustration out earlier in the week by cooking up a storm— Japanese dishes like omurice, kaiseki, and unagi donburi—and then channeled more of his rage into baking a dizzying array of sweets: dorayaki, mochi doughnuts, and an absurd amount of matcha-flavored yokan. But none of that had scratched the itch. His frustration remained, so here he was again, this time creating a cursed object of a nature so malevolent, that it would likely need to be sealed away once it was done. Everyone was eating well at least.

And Tengen’s body? Still hanging with its feet dangling two inches off the floor, an unfinished project that amused everyone but Kiyotaka. He should’ve been working on it, finishing up the matrix of seals that required precision and a steady flow of Positive Energy to prevent the body from deteriorating. But no, here he was, hammering away with the singular desire to choke Gojo out as Homer Simpson did to Bart in those infamous memes.

KLANG!

Another deafening strike. His irritation only grew, spurring him to lift the hammer once more, bringing it down with even greater force.

KLANK!

He could almost picture Satoru’s smug face as the steel beneath his hammer bent and warped under the pressure. But instead of satisfaction, a fresh wave of frustration washed over him.

"At this rate, this place is going to be cursed just by association," Ken muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from Daisuke, who kept his distance, wisely choosing not to interfere.

Kiyotaka, meanwhile, continued his work, his fury spilling out with every swing, each clang echoing louder than the last.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Kiyotaka's left eye twitched as he took in the scene before him. Gojo Satoru, his ever-annoying superior, was happily chewing on something that appeared to be drowning in sugar, casually lounging in Kiyotaka’s desk chair. The chair, which should have been behind a locked door, was now occupied by the man who seemed to have a knack for invading Kiyotaka's personal space. To make matters worse, there was a kid, dressed in a baggy sweatsuit, awkwardly sitting across from Gojo. She looked out of place, exhausted, and more than a little disheveled. On top of his head, Murasaki twitched excitedly. It had become the younger Ayakashi's favorite pass time to go with Kiyotakta to work, and today was her turn. 'The boys are going to be so jealous they missed this!' she crowed silently, ignoring her summoner's obvious distress.

Kiyotaka inhaled slowly, exhaling forcefully through his nose like a bull trying not to charge.

“Damn, this chair is comfortable! I know for a fact your department couldn’t afford this quality. Did you buy it yourself?” Satoru asked with his usual smirk, lounging as though he owned the place.

“I made it,” Kiyotaka replied, his voice clipped as he walked in, dropping his bag on the desk with a heavy thud. This was ridiculous; he didn’t sign up to be bombarded by a man loved by most. And really, he should be a bit more careful with the way he spoke to the man who wouldn’t need to lift his pinkie to kill him, but at this point sue him; he had just done his usual jog up the stairs, which had gotten a bit difficult with snow on the ground and cold weather. All he wanted was to make a cup of tea and get ready for the day. But that was too much to ask for apparently. 

Gojo leaned forward in the chair, clearly intrigued. “You make furniture too?”

Kiyotaka shot him a flat look. “I make a lot of things.” His eyes then shifted toward the girl sitting silently, her hands resting on a large bag on the floor. She wore a bulky, new coat—tag still attached—and her weariness was palpable.

"Would you like a cup of tea, child?" Kiyotaka asked, his tone softening as he addressed her. The girl looked up, startled by the offer, but then nodded shyly, clearly taken aback by the sudden kindness.

"See?" Gojo crowed triumphantly. "I told you Ijichi-kun would help!"

"I agreed to no such thing!" Kiyotaka snapped, not bothering to look up as he pulled open a drawer and began preparing his tea ritual. Recently, Kiyotaka had taken to starting his mornings with elaborate tea-making, experimenting with different leaves and spices each month. Currently, he is deep into "Chai Month," trying out various recipes from around the world.

He plugged in his single-top electric stove, filled a pot with water from his filtration system—another personal investment—and set it to boil. As the water heated, he retrieved his mortar and pestle, grinding black peppercorns, dried ginger, and cardamom pods with precision. He tossed the ground spices into the bubbling water, followed by a pinch of cloves, and rummaged through a drawer for two sticks of cinnamon. The last addition was a couple of scoops of black tea, completing the mix.

His movements were practiced, and methodical. Once the ingredients were simmering, he wiped down the mortar and pestle, closing the jars and ensuring everything was in its place. He pulled out a small strainer and placed two cups on the desk, ignoring Satoru’s presence as best he could.

“Maa, Ijichi-kun, are you not drinking any?” Gojo asked with his signature teasing tone.

“I’m not serving you any,” Kiyotaka retorted, his voice sharp as he focused on the tea.

"Why not?" Gojo whined, dramatically slumping in Kiyotaka's chair.

"Because you bring nothing but trouble," Kiyotaka shot back, his expression deadpan. "Feeding you might make it worse."

The girl turned away to hide her amusement at the exchange, her shoulders shaking slightly.

“Rude! Maki-chan is not trouble!” Gojo chimed, his lips twitching as he held back a smirk.

Kiyotaka froze mid-pour, his mind racing. Maki? Zenin Maki? His stomach dropped. He narrowed his eyes at Gojo, suddenly feeling the weight of what this situation implied. “Please tell me you didn’t kidnap the missing Zenin teenager.”

Gojo, of course, looked entirely unbothered, his grin widening as he gave Kiyotaka a look of exaggerated approval. “I didn’t kidnap her! I found a shivering kid, gave her a jacket, and brought her to a reliable adult who could help her.”

Kiyotaka pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his frustration in check. “And who, exactly, is this reliable adult?”

With a flourish, Satoru popped the last sugary piece of whatever he was eating into his mouth and spread his hands wide, as if revealing a grand plan. “Why, you, of course!”

Kiyotaka sighed deeply, the weight of the situation finally sinking in. “This is a terrible idea.”

Gojo, however, was having none of it. “Terrible? Nah. It’s perfect. Besides, you’re the best man for the job.” His grin was infuriatingly wide, and it took everything in Kiyotaka not to attempt to toss him out of his office. He would fail of course, but actions would be louder than words. 

Maki, still quiet, watched the exchange with wide eyes, clearly not sure whether to feel safe or incredibly concerned. Kiyotaka poured her a cup of tea and offered it to her with a reassuring nod.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “We’ll figure this out.” Then, with a pointed glance at Satoru, he muttered under his breath, “Somehow.”

Gojo leaned back in Kiyotaka's chair, utterly pleased with himself.

"Can I ask a question?" Maki spoke up, her voice quiet but firm after Kiyotaka finally, begrudgingly, poured Gojo a cup of tea. Both men turned to look at her, curious. She stared directly at Ijichi, her gaze unwavering.

"Why is there a gigantic purple spider on your head, and why can I see it?" she asked bluntly.

For a moment, there was absolute stillness. The aforementioned spider, perched comfortably atop Kiyotaka's head, froze mid-movement, her legs curling up slightly as if she had been caught red-handed.

"Oh shit, she can see me?!" Murasaki squeaked in her high-pitched voice, her many eyes widening in surprise.

"You can see her?!" Kiyotaka gasped, equally stunned.

"What spider?" Satoru asked, baffled, his head tilting as he scanned the room for any sign of the creature Maki was talking about. There was no trace of confusion in his voice—just pure curiosity.

Maki's eyes flicked between the three of them, trying to process what she had just walked into. "Uh, yeah," she said slowly, pointing to Murasaki, who was still frozen in place. "Big, purple, kinda cute... but also terrifying? That spider." Kiyotaka, now even more perplexed, reached up and lightly tapped the side of his head, causing Murasaki to grumble in annoyance before skittering down his shoulder, sulking.

"How can you see her?" Kiyotaka asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice. "Most people shouldn't be able to."

Maki shrugged, her expression remaining neutral. "Dunno. I've never been able to see curses before. My—" she hesitated, her posture shrinking slightly as guilt washed over her, "sister can see them though." Her voice softened at the mention of her sister.

Satoru, still clearly confused, looked between them. "A-am I missing something? I should be able to see a shikigami," he said, his confusion growing. Kiyotaka stressfully ran his hands through his hair. He was at a fork in the road; should he tell Gojo- there was no option, this was merely an illusion of choice. The floodgates had been opened, and he needed to make sure everything was going to be as ok as possible. 

Kiyotaka sighed, a tired expression crossing his face. "Murasaki, come here for a second."

The spider scrambled into Kiyotaka's arms, and he couldn’t help but smile a little. Adjusting his hold, Kiyotaka freed one hand, using it to gently tap Murasaki's forehead while injecting a small amount of cursed energy into her. Murasaki winced dramatically, her many legs twitching in discomfort.

"I didn't like that very much," she stated bluntly, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance. Kiyotaka chuckled lightly, now holding her with both arms comfortably again.

Satoru, however, stood there with his mouth slightly open, stunned by what had just transpired. For once, he was speechless.

"I can't see her anymore," Maki declared, looking around the room in mild confusion.

"Fascinating," Kiyotaka mused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "You can see Ayakashi, but not Shikigami."

Maki blinked, glancing between the two men. "So... what's the difference?"

Kiyotaka explained slowly, "Ayakashi are more like spirits, so they posses free willand only come when summoned if they want to. Shikigami, on the other hand, are created directly from cursed energy and require a certain level of control over cursed energy to see them. They also usually don't posses personalities. It seems like your ability to see either is unique only to Ayakashi. I had injected a curtain of cursed energy over Murasaki-chan so that she can be seen by Gojo-San. " 

"What the fuck," Satoru breathed out, his voice back to its usual tone, though laced with a dangerous edge. His eyes locked onto Kiyotaka, narrowing in a way that sent a chill down the room. Murasaki, sensing the shift, stood up defensively on Kiyotaka's shoulder, emitting a low noise that sounded like a growl, her many legs twitching in agitation.

Satoru’s gaze flicked to the Ayakashi, then back to Kiyotaka, his tone growing sharper. "I'm going to need an explanation here, Ijichi."

Chapter Text

Kiyotaka let out a long, weary sigh, his free hand running through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. For months, he had kept all of this a secret, never intending to expose his newfound powers to anyone in the world of curses. And yet, here he was, forced to explain himself to the strongest sorcerer alive.

"I don't know where to start," he confessed, his voice betraying his exhaustion.

Satoru’s irritation only deepened at the vague answer. "Start from the beginning; I have time."

Kiyotaka scoffed, feeling a wave of exasperation wash over him. "Not only do you not have time—you have a mission soon, which is probably why you brought Maki-chan here—but I don’t have time either. I’ve done nothing wrong, Gojo-san, so calm down." He glared at the man who, for so long, had intimidated him, though not anymore.

Some of the tension melted from Satoru’s shoulders, though he remained rigid, clearly still processing the information. Kiyotaka noted the shift with a subtle nod, acknowledging the slight ease in the air.

"A couple of months ago," Kiyotaka began, "I thought I’d somehow acquired a cursed technique when a paper family I had crafted came to life. It was unexpected, and I was confused. But later on, I discovered why I’m such a terrible sorcerer—why I’ve always struggled with cursed energy. I was never meant to wield it. I was supposed to be wielding positive energy instead."

"That’s impossible," Satoru snapped, his frustration flaring up again. "There hasn’t been a positive energy user since the Heian era."

Kiyotaka didn’t bother to argue. Instead, he grabbed a pencil from his desk and, with a flick of positive energy, hurled it directly at Satoru. Confident in his Limitless, Satoru didn’t flinch—until the pencil smacked him squarely on the forehead.

His eyes widened in disbelief as the pencil clattered to the floor. Kiyotaka smiled lightly, satisfied.

Satoru blinked, rubbing his forehead where the pencil had hit him. "Spar with me," he demanded, his voice laced with excitement now that he recognized Kiyotaka as a real challenge.

Kiyotaka rolled his eyes. "Absolutely not. I have no interest in being bruised for the next month."

Satoru opened his mouth to protest, but Kiyotaka cut him off. "Let’s focus on something actually important—like the fact that Maki can see Ayakashi. That’s far more relevant right now."

Maki, who had been quietly observing the exchange, straightened in her seat, her gaze flicking between the two men. The air in the room shifted as the weight of her newfound ability settled in, though her face remained calm.

Satoru glanced at her, then back at Kiyotaka, clearly annoyed but grudgingly willing to shift the focus. "Fine," he muttered. "But I’m coming back to this later." Again, Kiyotaka rolled his eyes, clearly unfazed by Satoru’s persistence. "Let’s start with this," he said, lifting his glasses and giving them a subtle pulse of cursed energy. He held them out toward Maki.

"Try these," he offered.

Maki, curious, set down her cup of tea and carefully took the glasses from Kiyotaka. As she slipped them on, her eyes widened. She blinked, leaning back slightly as her gaze locked onto Murasaki, who was now waving at her with a small, mischievous grin.

"Wow," Maki gasped, her voice filled with awe. The sight of the cursed energy-infused Ayakashi, now fully visible, left her momentarily speechless.

Kiyotaka nodded. "You’re seeing the world through cursed energy. But without the glasses, you can only see Ayakashi. That's something I’ve never encountered before."

Satoru leaned in, interested despite himself. "Why can you see both?" He asked Kiyotaka. 

"I can use both Cursed Energy and Positive Energy. There is something called a tipping point however, I can use one better than the other. It has something to do with my Heavenly Restriction." Satoru tsked, realizing that this meant he was unlikely to ever use Positive Energy. Kiyotaka hid his smirk behind his cup of tea. 

"So what is the plan with Maki-chan?" He asked changing the subject. 

"Well," drawled Satoru leaning back in his chair. "I can't have her be at my apartment since I know that some of my neighbors are spies for the elders." Kiyotaka narrowed his eyes at him.

"You want me to take her."

 Gojo grinned at him. "What a smart kōhai you are!" Kiyotaka sighed. He turned back to Maki who was now very fascinated by Murasaki who was just as curious of the human who could see her with her naked eye. Murasaki climbed down Kiyotaka and crawled to Maki, offering two of her top right legs for Maki to shake. The two men watched on with amusement as Maki went ahead and shook them. 

Kiyotaka’s eyes narrowed as he noticed Satoru's gaze lingering on him once again. He could feel the weight of the sorcerer's stare, and it took everything to not twitch for what felt like the hundredth time today. 

"You're staring again, Gojo-san," Kiyotaka muttered, raising his cup to his lips to hide his irritation, and averting his eyes as his ears turned pink. 

Satoru’s grin widened, completely unabashed. "Can you blame me? My kōhai is full of surprises." He gestured toward Maki and Murasaki, who were still curiously interacting, with Murasaki eagerly offering more legs for Maki to shake. "Besides, I knew you'd be the best choice for looking after Maki-chan. You’ve got a knack for handling unique situations."

Kiyotaka sighed, realizing there was no real arguing with Satoru when he had his mind set on something. He turned to Maki, who seemed much more relaxed now, thanks to Murasaki’s odd but endearing friendliness. "Maki-chan, how do you feel about staying at my place for a while?"

Maki looked up, blinking in surprise. "Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden."

Kiyotaka shook his head, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "You won’t be a burden. Plus, I think Murasaki and the other Ayakashi would appreciate having someone else around who can see them." He glanced at the spider Ayakashi, who chittered happily in response.

Satoru, leaning back in the chair like he owned the place, let out a satisfied hum. "See? Everything’s working out perfectly." He glanced at Kiyotaka, his smirk still very much in place. "Oh, and I’ll be sure to visit. Can’t leave my newest student  in your care without checking in, can I?"

Kiyotaka resisted the urge to throw his now-empty cup at Satoru’s head. 

"Just make sure to knock next time," he said dryly, eyeing his now-occupied office as Satoru winked playfully in response.

Chapter Text

Kiyotaka trailed behind as Kazuko walked arm-in-arm with Maki through the bustling mall, gathering supplies for her stay. After unpacking the few belongings she had brought with her, it became obvious to Kiyotaka that Maki lacked many essentials, so he decided a shopping trip was in order. Of course, knowing next to nothing about what teenage girls liked or needed, he enlisted Kazuko's help, who had eagerly agreed to tag along.

Kiyotaka carefully tracked each receipt, idly wondering if the final calculated amount of expenses should be sent to Satoru later.

Should I add an inconvenience fee? he mused more than once. But as he watched Kazuko and Maki giggle while they picked out clothes and supplies, their laughter filling the store, Kiyotaka couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Satoru didn’t need an extra charge... this time.

Though he trailed behind, observing from a distance, the sight of Maki’s genuine laughter—her first since arriving—left him feeling like the trip was worth every yen.

"So, you know how to use weapons, right?" Ken blurted out almost as soon as Daisuke introduced him to Maki. His eyes gleamed with excitement, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Err, yes?" Maki responded, her confusion evident.

"Excellent!" Ken rubbed his hands together, cackling with glee. "We finally have a tester!"

Maki, Kazuko, and Kiyotaka exchanged worried glances, unsure whether to be concerned or amused by Ken’s excitement. Meanwhile, Daisuke, standing in the background, nodded approvingly, seemingly unfazed by the prospect of using Maki to test new weapons.

"Ken, don’t scare her off," Kiyotaka muttered, though he couldn’t help but smirk at his friend's enthusiasm.

Maki blinked, bewildered. She had no idea what she had just signed up for.

"THIS FEELS DISGUSTING!" Maki couldn’t help but yell, her face scrunched in discomfort as she gripped the weapon Kiyotaka had crafted in a fit of frustration the previous week. A little rough around the edges, and still needed some more tightening on the handle, it was still a decent weapon. What weapon it was? Anyone's guess, but it could definitely take down a human and possibly at least a grade-two curse. The only problem was that it pulsed with ominous energy and its texture was unnervingly slick, even though it appeared solid, hence why Maki was in the midst of a crisis. 

Ken stood off to the side, cackling madly at her reaction. "Isn't it great?! It’s like holding pure malice!" he exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Kiyotaka, leaning against the workshop wall, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "You don’t have to use it if it makes you uncomfortable," he said, though there was a flicker of amusement in his voice.

Maki glared at him, her competitive nature flaring up. "I'm not giving up that easily!" she shot back, gripping the weapon tighter, even as it radiated an unsettling energy.

Ken, tears of laughter in his eyes, gave her a thumbs-up. "That's the spirit!"

Kiyotaka glanced over at Maki as they lounged on the couch in his living room, lazily flipping through TV channels. Murasaki, the large purple spider Ayakashi, was flopped comfortably across Maki’s chest, their bond a curious sight that would have baffled most.

“Maki-chan,” Kiyotaka began, breaking the comfortable silence, “what do you want for Christmas?”

Maki remained quiet, her eyes fixated on the window, lost in thought. The fading evening light cast soft shadows across her face, revealing a look of deep longing.

“I... I would like to see my sister again,” Maki finally whispered, her voice barely audible. The vulnerability in her tone hit Kiyotaka hard.

He paused, contemplating her words. He had carefully avoided bringing up her sister, knowing it was a sensitive subject, but the way Maki said it—so quietly, so filled with unspoken pain—made him reconsider.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said softly, his words carrying a promise.

Kiyotaka sat in his car, parked in front of a coworking space four and a half hours out of Tokyo, mentally preparing himself for his bi-annual meeting with Zenin Itsuki. It was three days before Christmas, and as usual, Nara-san had passed the responsibility of the meeting to Kiyotaka. Over time, he and Itsuki had bonded—albeit slightly—over their shared frustration with Nara-san. Still, these meetings were always a bit tense. Itsuki was a no-nonsense woman with steely gray eyes, short-clipped hair, and the kind of sharp features that could silence a room.

Getting out of the car, Kiyotaka carried a thin, medium-length box toward the building. Itsuki arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow as she spotted him approaching. The last time they had met was six months ago, and in that time, Kiyotaka had undergone quite a transformation. His walk now exuded confidence that hadn’t been there before, and everything about him seemed more... refined.

Dressed in a long coat, dress pants, and a crisp white shirt, Kiyotaka looked sharp and put together. His hair, now sporting a new haircut (now that Kazuko decided he grew out his hair long enough for her satisfaction) with defined soft curls ("Stop geling your natural curl pattern!" Kazuko had snapped at him as she took away all the jars of gel from his bathroom), and shorter sides, accentuating his features. He had also gained about some height, along with more muscle tone from his recent physical activities, including his constant running around and time spent in the workshop. For a brief second, Itsuki thought she was meeting an entirely different person. But then he greeted her with his customary small smile and a quiet but still cheerful, "Good morning, Zenin-san!" she realized this was the same Kiyotaka—just a more polished version.

Itsuki’s gaze flickered to the box in his hands, her interest piqued. "For the record," she drawled, "I only bought you a set of socks."

Kiyotaka smiled, amused. "This is both a gift and a small bribe," he replied, setting the box on the table between them.

She quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the package warily. "Can I open it before I hear you out?"

"I was hoping you would," Kiyotaka said with a nod.

With curiosity, Itsuki carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in delicate wrapping, were two black, long sticks connected by metal chains. She took one in hand, its surprising weight catching her off guard. With a flick of her wrist, the stick unfurled, revealing a magnificent battle fan.

It was a masterpiece—created through a collaboration between Daisuke’s interns. Ken had meticulously crafted the frame, making it lightweight yet durable. Kuzuko had painstakingly compressed different fabrics to create a strong inner layer. And Kiyotaka? He had spent countless hours hunched over a workbench, carefully painting protective spells onto the fabric with a fine brush, each line precise and filled with meaning.

The fan’s outer pattern was a stunning depiction of lush greenery, but concealed within the design were deadly blades hidden beneath the delicate lace along the top. As Itsuki inspected the craftsmanship, her gaze landed on the Matsumoto clan seal, shimmering in gold ink. Her breath caught.

The Matsumoto clan hadn’t released any new items in years, and even when they had, battle fans had been rare. Yet here she was, holding one in her hands.

And she was getting it for free?

Closing the fan with a soft snap and carefully placing it back in its box, Itsuki fixed Kiyotaka with an unreadable expression. Her eyes, sharp as ever, studied him intently as she folded her hands over the top of the box.

"What is it that you want from me?" she asked, her voice calm but carrying the weight of suspicion and curiosity.

Kiyotaka met her gaze steadily, already prepared for this reaction. He leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his lap as he took a measured breath.

“I need a favor,” Kiyotaka admitted, his tone straightforward and devoid of any attempt to sugarcoat. “I have Zenin Maki under my care, and she wants to see her sister.”

Itsuki’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at his words, but she quickly schooled her expression, choosing her next words carefully. "I can’t make any promises," she began slowly, her voice measured and cautious.

Kiyotaka’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, sensing the possibility in her response.

"But," she continued, "I will see how long I can get her away. No guarantees, though. The Zenin clan doesn't make things easy."

With a smooth motion, Itsuki slid the box containing the fan into her bag. Her tone shifted, becoming lighter but still holding that familiar edge. "I will be taking this regardless," she said, tapping the fan’s box as if to emphasize her point.

Kiyotaka nodded in acknowledgment, grateful but unsurprised. "That was always the plan."

Chapter Text

It started like this: the Zenin clan had been making inquiries for a battle fan. One of their clan members with great potential had lost hers in a fight with a Cursed Sorcerer. The enemy had been captured, but the fan was beyond repair, and replacing it was proving difficult. By giving the fan to Itsuki, Kiyotaka had essentially placed her in a position of significant power. The gift wasn't just a favor—it was a one-way ticket to becoming an important figure within the Zenin clan, a feat nearly impossible for non-main branch members. The debt she owed him for the fan alone far exceeded what she would have owed for bringing Mai to Kiyotaka.

Itsuki’s sharp eyes narrowed as she regarded him, curiosity and suspicion mixing in her expression. "Where did you get it?" she asked, her voice steady but edged with disbelief.

"I happen to be in contact with three Matsumoto apprentices," Kiyotaka replied calmly, leaning back in his seat. "Daisuke-sama said their work is finally ready to sell, so I’m now their point of contact."

Her eyes widened, the full weight of what he’d just said sinking in. Matsumotos were almost mythical figures in the cursed tools world, and anyone who had access to their craftsmanship could reshape power dynamics.

For a moment, Itsuki was silent, absorbing the significance of the information. Then, her lips curled into a knowing smile. "You're not just making a request," she remarked, her tone lower. "You're playing a much larger game."

Kiyotaka smiled, leaning back in his chair with a casual air that belied the gravity of his words. "I think it’s time for a change."

Itsuki froze, her body stiffening as the weight of what he'd just implied crashed over her. She narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Do you know what you just said, Ijichi-san?" she hissed, her eyes flashing. "Think very carefully about the implications of that statement."

Unfazed, Kiyotaka took a slow sip from his water bottle, setting it down calmly. His expression remained neutral, but the resolve in his eyes was unmistakable. "I’ve thought about it. And I meant every word."

Itsuki’s eyes flickered with a mixture of shock and intrigue. This was no simple conversation—they both knew the risks involved in even suggesting such a monumental shift within the Zenin clan, possibly even all of Jujutsu society. They stared at each other in silence, searching for something, but neither gave anything away.

"I'll see what I can do," Itsuki finally said with a sigh, conceding to the gravity of his request.

Kiyotaka flashed her a bright grin, the tension easing slightly. "That's all I can ask for."

The sight unfolding before Kiyotaka’s eyes made him question every ounce of his sanity. 'The power of a battle fan should be studied, as well as the insanity that dwells deep within Zenin’s' he mused dryly, as he watched Maki and Mai engage in what could only be described as a full-blown brawl. Itsuki stood beside him, arms crossed, looking unfazed.

Mai had arrived with Itsuki just in time for lunch, and almost immediately, the sisters had started throwing hands.

"YOU BITCH! HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME BEHIND?!" Mai screamed, yanking at Maki’s hair with a fury that startled even Itsuki.

In response, Maki slugged her square in the jaw, her face set with a mix of anger and frustration. Mai let out a howl of pain, but the fight only seemed to fuel her rage.

"ARE YOU STUPID?! I BARELY GOT OUT! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO DRAG DEAD WEIGHT WITH ME?!" Maki shot back, her voice sharp with pent-up emotion.

Mai's eyes flashed, her hands balling into fists as she threw herself at her sister. "A DEADWEIGHT?! AT LEAST I CAN USE CURSED ENERGY!"

The two Zenin girls rolled around on the ground, punching and kicking as if their very lives depended on it. Dust kicked up from the struggle, and Kiyotaka stared, wide-eyed.

"Should... should we stop them?" he asked wearily, unsure if this was normal Zenin sibling behavior or if someone might actually get hurt.

Itsuki shot him a withering look, her tone dripping with disdain. "Absolutely not. They need to get this out of their system."

Kiyotaka opened his mouth, preparing to argue for some non-violent alternatives when, suddenly, Maki and Mai crashed through the nearby window, shattering glass as they tumbled outside. Kiyotaka let out a startled yell, his eyes widening in shock.

"Are they—are they okay?" he sputtered, panic rising in his chest. He rushed over to the now broken window and took a peek. He looked over at it Itsuki, expecting her to be as concerned, if not more than him. 

Itsuki, however, seemed completely unfazed. She walked over to him and gripped his arm, her sharp fingernails digging into his skin, just shy of causing him to bleed. Dryly, she said, "How kind of them to make sure they don't break your house."

Kiyotaka blinked at her, struggling to comprehend how this could be seen as a positive thing. His eyes shook, unable to comprehend what was going on. 

Feeling pity, Itsuki sighed and said, "If you are going to be a girl Dad, you really should learn when to leave them be."

Kiyotaka’s eyes widened in sheer confusion as he tried to make sense of Itsuki’s words. 

"Girl Dad?!" he spluttered, his mind still reeling from the chaos that had just ensued. How had he gone from reluctant caretaker to being labeled a 'Girl Dad'? Itsuki shot him another withering look, her patience clearly wearing thin.

 "Surely you don’t plan to just leave those girls to fend for themselves, do you? If you don’t step up, then who will?" She paused, searching his face for something, her eyes narrowing. "We clearly can’t trust the Zenin clan to do what’s best for them, so you," she gave him a once-over, as though assessing his worth, "will have to do."

Kiyotaka made a strange, strangled sound of confusion, feeling utterly out of his depth. Before he could protest, Itsuki sighed dramatically, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Now, where’s your kitchen? If you’re not going to offer me tea, I’ll just make it myself."

Still processing the idea of being thrust into the role of 'Girl Dad,' Kiyotaka mutely gestured toward the kitchen, his mind too scrambled to argue.

Lunch, unsurprisingly, had started with being nothing short of a chaotic ordeal. Kiyotaka’s first aid kit was splayed open on the kitchen counter, a trash can overturned nearby with discarded wrappings, bloody tissues, and cotton pads spilling out. The room was filled with the sharp scent of antiseptic and the occasional hiss of pain as Kiyotaka dabbed disinfectant onto the various cuts and scrapes Maki and Mai had earned from their brawl.

"Hold still," Kiyotaka muttered, focusing on cleaning a particularly nasty scrape on Maki’s arm. She winced but didn’t complain, her face set in a defiant scowl, which wasn't all that scary with her glasses askew on her face.

Sitting across from her sister, Mai had a matching expression, though her hair was now a tangled mess from their earlier fight. Kiyotaka resisted the urge to sigh as he handed her another ice pack for her swollen lip.

Itsuki watched from the corner, arms crossed and a frown etched deep into her features. "Honestly," she muttered, "you’d think they were raised in a barn."

Kiyotaka shot her a look of exasperation. "I didn’t exactly ask for a domestic battlefield in my living room," he said, his tone tired but laced with sarcasm.

The twins, for their part, looked suitably chastised as they both winced at Kiyotaka’s words. Guilt was etched across their faces as he pulled a piece of wet leaf from Maki’s long hair and brushed some dirt off Mai’s shoulder. After a quick inspection, he stepped back and nodded, satisfied with his work.

“Looks like no one will be dying from a random infection today,” he quipped dryly. Both girls flushed, glancing at each other sheepishly.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” Kiyotaka continued, his tone soft but firm. “Both of you—without fighting, please—go freshen up. I’ll clean this up and have lunch ready in 30 minutes.”

Maki and Mai, now more subdued, hopped off their chairs and walked side by side toward the bathroom, their earlier aggression replaced with a quiet camaraderie.

Itsuki, watching the entire scene unfold, gave Kiyotaka a nod of approval. "See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it?"

Kiyotaka responded with another exasperated glare and a “Says the one who didn’t have to break up a sibling brawl,” before turning his attention to cleaning up the aftermath of the fight. He started gathering the scattered bandages and discarded wrappings, mentally preparing himself for the next round of chaos that would inevitably follow. 

The day after New Year’s, now 2016, Kiyotaka stood by Daisuke’s house, watching as Mai and Maki stood beside Itsuki’s car, their new glasses catching the sunlight. It had been an unexpected discovery that, much like Maki couldn’t see cursed energy but could use it in a physical sense, Mai couldn’t see positive energy, but could still infuse objects with it. In her overnight bag, she carried bullets infused with positive energy, thanks to a collaborative effort between Kiyotaka, Ken, and Kazuko the previous night, where they had crafted a pair of glasses that would allow her to see positive energy.

Over her short stay, Mai had effortlessly bonded with the usual occupants of the house. Kazuko had been excited to have another girl around, and both Ken and Daisuke had appreciated her enthusiasm for weapons, despite her clear bias toward guns. Itsuki had observed all this quietly, watching the connections form with a knowing expression.

As Itsuki prepared to leave, she patted Kiyotaka’s arm with a sigh. "I am a willing participant in your plan," she said quietly, "but don’t break this trust. You’re pulling all of us into a strange orbit, so you’d better be prepared. I will never forgive you if you give these girls hope only to take it away."

Kiyotaka shivered at her words but met her gaze with a small, confident smile. "Well, as you so eloquently put it, aren’t I now a girl Dad? They’ll be fine because I’ll make sure of it."

Itsuki studied him for a moment, then gave a single nod. "Stay safe until we meet again," she said before turning to get into her car.

Mai waved briefly at everyone and gave Maki one last hug before climbing into the passenger seat. Kiyotaka watched as the car pulled away, the sound of gravel crunching under the tires fading into the distance. Kazuko, Ken, and Daisuke walked back into the house, leaving just him and Maki standing in the driveway. The weight of the responsibility he had taken on settled more deeply in his chest, but when Maki gave him a small, content smile and moved closer, leaning into his side, he instinctively threw his arm over her shoulder.

At that moment, with the winter chill in the air and the quiet that followed, Kiyotaka realized he was ready for whatever came next.

Chapter Text

Not being firm about Satoru lingering in his office had been a mistake. The white-haired menace returned with a vengeance with the holiday season over and curses mostly under control. It was as though he was making up for lost time—time he could have spent being a normal member of Jujutsu Society (do those people even exist?) but instead, he chose to spend his newly acquired free time annoying Kiyotaka and seemed determined to always be within Kiyotaka's sight.

Daisuke and Kazuko, who were once suspicious of the future head of the Gojo clan, were now surprisingly fond of him. Initially, they gave Kiyotaka a hard time about Satoru trailing after him like a lost puppy, but these days, they seemed to enjoy his company. Currently, Kazuko, Ken, and even Satoru danced around in Daisuke’s house with Goki’s and Zenki’s sons, the Ayakashi crackling and curling around Satoru’s limbs as he swung them playfully.

Kiyotaka watched from the sidelines, a soft smile creeping across his face. Then, a thought struck him, and his expression shifted. He got up and grabbed his workbook. Didn’t Satoru’s birthday just pass in December?

Satoru stared at the glasses in the box once more. He had already tried them on twice, but he still couldn’t believe it— Kiyotaka had given him a gift?! And not just any gift, but something that would actually make his life easier? He slipped the glasses on again, feeling as if a heavy blanket had settled over his senses. The cursed energy that had always been a constant presence in his life—flashing with dark, hostile entities—was now muted. The curses were still there, still vile, but quieter now, no longer pounding in his head and disrupting his thoughts.

That random article was right—spending time with people does make them like you! Satoru thought triumphantly. Wait until Megumi-kun hears about this!

As Kiyotaka settled into the rhythm of his daily routine, the days following Mai's departure seemed to blur together. His days consisted of training, tea-making, and the constant hum of cursed energy that surrounded him. Mai did come back sooner than most anticipated her to, Kiyotaka showing up a couple of hours into the night on January 19th with her in tow. She stayed until the late afternoon of the 20th so that she and Maki could celebrate their birthdays together. They had a small gathering, electing to have a bonfire in Daisuke's backyard and everyone making breakfast together. It was a delicious mess, with pancakes because Satoru insisted, but also the usual traditional option. When Mai left again, Itsuki coming to pick her up, Kiyotaka steeled himself to truly dedicate himself to finding the solution for Tengen's body so that they could set up the barrier stones with transportation seals included. Six to seven hours was a lot of time for a drive, and Kiyotaka didn't want that to stop the twins from seeing each other as often as they would have liked. 

 Kiyotaka found his thoughts often drifting to the teachings of Yukari-sensei—a woman whose knowledge spanned far beyond the boundaries of conventional sorcery. Deciding, to stop at the library, not just to return the seventh book in the series, Famous Sorcerers and Where to Find Them, but also to pick up the next book, Kiyotaka continued to live life amidst the chaos. 

He gave Miko-chan the cat a gentle pat on the head before lifting the book that had somehow ended up at the top of the pile she sat beside. Kiyotaka squinted at the cover.

"Potioncraft: Healing Draughts and Curses in a Cauldron?" he read aloud, confused. Potions were something of fiction, weren’t they? If potions were real, why weren't they being used to solve life-threatening situations? Why had people suffered and died when a mere sip of something could have saved them? Kiyotaka paused, his thoughts racing. He realized that it didn’t matter what was happening now if he could learn to stop it from happening in the future.

Newly resolved, he gripped the book tightly, gave Miko-chan one last pat, and left the library. He had a feeling this book would change everything.

What I am about to teach you is an art privy only to a select few. Learning this craft will place you in constant danger, so be sure to keep your newfound skills to yourself and only share them with those you trust.

Let me ask you this: Have you ever gotten sick and your mother or grandmother gave you a concoction, and suddenly you felt better? There’s no scientific proof that it works, yet somehow it does. In my years of observation, I’ve found that the more cursed or positive energy the maker possesses, the more likely the concoction will work. Tengen jokingly refers to it as witchcraft.

I am inclined to agree. We create in deep cauldrons filled with purified water, tossing in ingredients that, to the untrained eye, might appear poisonous or useless. Yet these ingredients transform into potions that defy logic, even within the realm of sorcerers and shrine workers.

I spend most of my days leaning over simmering pots with a long wooden spoon, hair tied back, brewing strange, aromatic liquids. For my allies, these potions can restore health and vitality. For my enemies, they can be lethal.

This book will be different from the others. I won’t focus on grand events but will instead share recipes and observations about ingredients. Prepare your kitchens.

Kiyotaka read the passage carefully, his fingers tracing the worn edges of the book’s pages. He paused at Yukari-sensei’s words: “ The key to success isn’t simply in following the recipe—anyone can do that. The real power lies in your intent, in the energy you pour into each step.”

He felt a shiver of anticipation. This wasn’t just about potions; it was about energy—positive, cursed, or neutral—and the careful balance required to create something extraordinary.

As you dive into this art, the book continued, remember that it is about more than just the ingredients. The process is as much about the heart and soul of the maker as it is about the herbs and powders. Energy flows into everything we touch, and when crafting potions, that energy amplifies their effects.

The ingredients you use—whether rare herbs plucked at dawn or powders found at the local market—serve as conduits. They channel the energy you imbue, transforming their natural properties into something beyond the ordinary.

Kiyotaka flipped the page, his brow furrowing as he reached for his tea. The more he read, the more his skepticism was replaced by curiosity. There was something about this craft that felt...right. Almost as though it could be the missing piece in his own struggles with cursed and positive energy.

It’s easy to dismiss this art, to see it as mere superstition. But trust me, there’s a reason it’s kept within the ranks of a select few. This craft can heal even the deepest wounds—or inflict ones that no magic can reverse.

Kiyotaka’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of the dual nature of this art—of how potions could heal and harm. His hands tightened on the book, anticipation prickling his skin. What else could these

So, when you stand at your cauldron, with a wooden spoon in hand, ask yourself: What am I creating? Healing or destruction?

Proceed carefully, dear student. The kitchen may be a place of warmth, but it can also be a battlefield.

Yours in knowledge,  

Yukari-sensei

Kiyotaka closed the book for a moment, letting the weight of Yukari-sensei’s words settle over him. Potions, like sorcery, were more than just tools. They were extensions of the person who made them—of their energy, their intentions, their heart.

He stood, already planning the ingredients he’d need to gather for his first attempt.

The first potion he decided to make was a waterproof one called the Aqua Veil Elixir. The book claimed that it should be a clear, semi-jiggly liquid, one that smelt of petrichor. Kiyotaka decided to keep these first attempts a secret; hopefully, this came out right, but he didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. As such, he carefully collected the ingredients and supplies and waited for the day he would be home alone. It didn’t take long for that to happen, as Kazuko had started taking Maki from his house on weekends, claiming she needed female influence—something he was definitely missing.

With the house quiet, Kiyotaka gathered the ingredients onto the large kitchen counter. His hands shook slightly as he arranged them: purified water, hydrangea leaves, obsidian dust, beeswax, salamander oil, sea salt, a single strand of silk thread, and a vial of cursed energy-infused ink. It seemed so simple in theory, but the weight of what he was trying to accomplish—creating something powerful enough to waterproof Tengen’s new body—made his stomach twist in knots.

He lit the stove beneath the pot of water, watching the soft bubbles begin to form as it reached a low simmer. This was it. He could already hear Satoru laughing in his head if this turned into a disaster.

“I am one with the universe, and the universe is one with me,” he murmured to himself, steadying his nerves. He placed his hands on the counter, feeling the cold stone beneath his fingertips, and inhaled deeply.

Step one: Purify the water with positive energy.

He placed both hands around the simmering pot and channeled a gentle stream of positive energy, watching as the water shimmered slightly under his influence. He couldn’t help but smirk a little at the sight; at least this part was working.

Step two: Add the hydrangea leaves, one at a time.

Kiyotaka picked up the hydrangea leaves, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. One by one, he dropped them into the pot, watching as the leaves turned translucent in the bubbling water. The book mentioned chanting to activate their power.

“Let this bond repel, let it shield,” he whispered with each leaf, feeling the energy shift slightly around him. He leaned over the pot, watching the leaves dissolve into the water, turning it a pale, misty blue. So far, so good.

Step three: Crushed obsidian dust.

This was the part that made him most nervous. He had handled obsidian before, but never in powdered form, and something about it always felt... sharp, even in its smallest particles. He sprinkled the dust into the potion, watching as the water darkened, a faint shimmer swirling through the mixture.

Kiyotaka stirred the potion gently, trying to keep his breathing calm. It was working. Maybe this wouldn’t be a disaster after all.

Step four: Melt the beeswax.

He carefully melted the beeswax in a separate pan, the warm scent filling the kitchen. His hands trembled as he poured the molten wax into the potion, stirring once more. It was supposed to act as a sealant, creating a waterproof barrier. The potion thickened slightly as the wax mixed in.

“Okay, almost there,” he muttered to himself, his heart pounding. 

Step five: Add salamander oil.

Two drops of salamander oil. That was all it took to activate the final protective layer. As soon as the oil touched the surface of the potion, the mixture shimmered, glowing briefly before returning to its translucent state.

Kiyotaka wiped his brow. He could feel the heat rising off the potion, and the faint scent of petrichor began to fill the air.

Step six: Powdered sea salt.

He sprinkled a pinch of sea salt, watching as it dissolved instantly, neutralizing any lingering water energy in the mixture. The potion seemed to settle, the shimmer fading as the ingredients began to fuse.

Step seven: Thread the silk strand.

Carefully, Kiyotaka threaded the silk through the potion, weaving it in a slow, figure-eight motion. He felt the potion react to the silk, its energy pulsing gently with each pass.

Step eight: Cursed energy-infused ink.

Finally, he pulled out the vial of cursed energy-infused ink and added the last ingredient. As the ink swirled into the mixture, the potion turned a soft iridescent color. Kiyotaka held his breath, waiting for something—anything—to go wrong.

But it didn’t. 

The potion cooled, leaving behind a shimmering, clear liquid that jiggled slightly when he stirred it.

Kiyotaka stared down at the finished elixir, his heart racing. It had worked. The Aqua Veil Elixir was complete. He quickly bottled the potion, feeling a strange mixture of pride and fear.

All that was left now was to test it on Tengen’s body, although it would require some testing first. He couldn't afford any mistakes with something this delicate. The stakes were far too high for him to rush into it without being sure.

He glanced around the kitchen, his mind working quickly. He needed something durable, something that could give him at least a basic sense of whether the potion had the intended effect. His eyes landed on a small ceramic cup sitting on the counter—simple, durable, and, most importantly, replaceable if things went wrong.

Kiyotaka uncorked the bottle, his hands shaking slightly, and dipped a small paintbrush into the elixir. He coated the surface of the cup with the potion in slow, deliberate strokes, watching as the liquid settled and dried into a clear, smooth finish. He set the cup aside and waited, counting down the minutes.

Once he felt enough time had passed, he took a deep breath and turned on the kitchen faucet. A steady stream of water splashed onto the cup, and he watched in anticipation as the liquid beaded up and rolled off the surface without leaving a trace. The cup was completely dry, untouched by the water.

"It works," he whispered to himself, feeling a wave of relief crash over him. The potion had held up to its promise—at least for now. The real test, of course, would be Tengen’s body, but this was a promising start.

Kiyotaka wiped his hands on his apron, trying to calm his nerves. "Okay," he muttered to himself. "Now comes the hard part."

Chapter Text

"Okay, spill." Ken narrowed his eyes at Kiyotaka as he watched him pour the semi-solid liquid onto Tengen's body. The potion dried almost instantaneously. The group had been struggling for weeks, trying to find a solution that would allow the body to move naturally, endure water, and extreme heat, and resist the overwhelming energy from cursed and positive sources. Then, out of nowhere, Kiyotaka showed up with a shiny glass bottle, poured it onto the silicone skin they’d worked so hard on, and... it just worked.

"Hm?" Kiyotaka muttered, barely glancing up from his task.

"The bottle," Ken pressed, his tone more insistent. "What’s in it?"

Kiyotaka briefly looked up, dark circles under his eyes and light stubble giving him a ragged, exhausted appearance. Ken almost took a step back.

"Oh, it’s a potion," Kiyotaka said casually, as though the explanation were obvious.

Ken blinked. "Potions don’t exist, Kiyo-nii," he said, his voice soft, as though trying to reason with someone clearly losing their mind. Kiyotaka ignored the concerned expression on Ken’s face.

"They do exist," he replied matter-of-factly, "and I’ve made... several." He turned back to his task, dismissing Ken’s doubts. Ken stood there for a moment, speechless, before running off to gather the others. They were going to stage an intervention—whatever was in Kiyotaka's system, they were determined to get it out.

"Just so you know, I make potions now," Kiyotaka told Satoru a few days later. Satoru froze mid-fruit theft from Kiyotaka’s plate as Kiyotaka tidied up after a staff meeting.

"Like... the stuff from fairy tales?" Satoru asked, raising a brow.

"Yes," Kiyotaka replied calmly. "My summons are literally figures from folklore.  I can bring them into this realm, which was once considered impossible. And now, I make potions. It’s kind of fun."

Satoru stared at him for a moment, unsure whether to be impressed or concerned. Finally, he shrugged. "Okay," he said, letting it go—for now.

"I must admit, I’m impressed by... how effective this form is," Tengen commented, flexing their fingers as they examined the new vessel that had taken months to perfect. Their voice resonated from both the body and the ever-present Star Corridor.

"I’m also surprised that I got a body first," Tengen continued, their dark eyes narrowing slightly as they looked at Kiyotaka.

Kiyotaka frowned. "Who else are we building a body for?"

Tengen smiled faintly. "You’ll find out once you read further into that book series of yours. But for now, it’ll be my little secret."

Kiyotaka rolled his eyes. "Great," he muttered. "Do you want to test the tastebud system?"

Tengen’s eyes gleamed. "Yes, I think I’d enjoy that."

Everyone watched with bated breath as Tengen took their first sip of water. They hummed softly, contentment crossing their face.

"Water tastes... different," they said, addressing the room. Kiyotaka, Daisuke, Ken, Kazuko, Maki, and Satoru were all gathered, watching intently.

"Different how?" Kazuko asked, tilting her head.

Tengen took another sip, their expression thoughtful. "It’s cleaner, but there’s something... off. It has a hint of chemicals."

"Yep, that sounds about right," Daisuke muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Tengen drained the rest of the glass, setting it down gently.

"What’s next?" they asked eagerly.

Kiyotaka sighed. "Taste testing can take a while, so let’s pace ourselves."

Satoru, who had been unusually quiet, leaned back in his chair. "Think the old man can handle something with more flavor?" he teased.

Tengen’s lips twitched. "Try me."

By the time evening rolled around, they had gone through an entire marathon of taste testing—soups, sodas, French fries, sushi, spicy miso ramen, curry, chocolate cake, and even ice cream. Tengen declared a newfound love for umami-rich broths and boldly spiced dishes. The rare spices like cinnamon and nutmeg were a revelation, flavors they had never experienced in their previous existence.

Satoru wasted no time teasing them. "Of course you like the fancy stuff," he said with a grin. "You’re what—how many centuries old now? Makes sense that your taste buds would have evolved."

Sitting back with the last sip of green tea, Tengen addressed the group. "The food I’ve tasted today is some of the best I’ve ever had. As promised, the Hoshikage Clan lands will be open starting tomorrow. I will guide you whenever you wish to go."

Kiyotaka, who had spent the entire day silently observing and making mental notes, nodded. A quiet but palpable shift had occurred among the group—an unspoken sense of anticipation.

Tengen rubbed at his left eye, stifling a yawn. "This body is a little too realistic. Will I need to use the bathroom as well?"

"Probably," Ken replied. "We made sure it’s as accurate to a human body as possible. You just run on red-colored coolant and cursed and positive energy." Tengen hummed, appreciating the detail.

"I will treasure this body well."

"Please do," Kazuko added. "We’re working on a backup, but it’ll take a while before it’s finished."

A road trip with friends, a cursed puppet in tow, and two kids definitely wasn’t on Kiyotaka’s bucket list. Yet here he was, driving through the countryside, the air alive with the earthy scent of spring rain on new leaves, the wind tugging at his hair as it slipped through the open windows on their journey to Chichibu. Ken and Satoru were belting out the lyrics to some song on the radio, while Daisuke snored lightly in the backseat. The soft murmur of conversation between Maki, Mai, and Kazuko provided a calm backdrop.

As the laughter and chatter swirled around him, Kiyotaka caught himself smiling. The warmth in his chest, soft and unfamiliar, was what the rest of the world called fun, and for once, he had to agree. Otherwise, what was this warm feeling settling in his chest?

Tengen, seated in the passenger seat, flipped through a travel guide of Chichibu, clearly unimpressed by the chaos around him. "Tell me we’ll be arriving before I age another century," Tengen drawled, flipping through the travel guide as though the chaos around him was a minor inconvenience.

"It took longer since we had to pick up Mai, even if Itsuki-san met us halfway," Kiyotaka replied, glancing at the GPS on his phone. They had about two hours and thirty minutes left before reaching the general area of Chichibu.

It had been two weeks since Tengen released the binds from the Hoshikage Clan. Daisuke, with the help of one of Kazuko's origami owls, had sent out a letter to his cousin and received a reply via the Chichibu post office:

Dear Daisuke-kun,

It pleased us all greatly to find out you were still alive and well after all these years. The origami owl was quite the spectacle, folding back into a piece of paper for us to decipher your dreadful chicken scratch, being passed around, and then returning to its owl form to cause mayhem with the children.

I am truly sorry to hear about the loss of your wife, son, and daughter-in-law; it is a shame we never had the chance to meet them. That said, we are all very excited to meet your grandson, as well as the future clan head. Your description of him brings hope for a bright future ahead.

I won’t write too much, as we can catch up properly over meals when you arrive with your expected cohort. Would you like us to freshen up the house you lived in before you left? It is, of course, in excellent condition—the seals keeping it in its original form. However, I suspect it might require some... modernizing. As someone who has lived in Tokyo longer than in the clan complex, I imagine it would not suit your current tastes, nor those of Ijichi Kiyotaka-sama and Tengen-sama.

Please reply with an email to: [email protected]. Writing letters is a relic of the past, after all.

Looking forward to seeing you for the first time in four decades.

Masahiro Matsumoto

"Masahiro, that bastard. He hasn’t changed a bit," Daisuke muttered, eyes scanning the letter again. But the small twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him, a glimmer of amusement breaking through his usual gruff exterior.

Through a series of email exchanges, everyone provided their body measurements. Apparently, it was important that they wear traditional clothing for their first meeting. The fabric selection was just as important, handmade by a group of elderly women dedicated to the craft, with knowledge passed only to their successors. Tengen had been particularly pleased by this news, commenting:

"The significance of clothing, especially its use in identifying status, has been lost in recent generations. You chase after brands instead of quality. Having garments made by these elder artisans is both an honor and a privilege. Each fabric roll is unique. It signifies clan affiliation, your true personality, and in rare cases, it can even reveal if you have a fated partner." A look of thoughtfulness crossed their androgynous features. "I wonder if my print is still in circulation?"

And so, here they were, nearing the place that would mark new beginnings, and close some old ones. No one was dressed particularly fancy, opting instead for practical, low-maintenance hairstyles and clothing. Daisuke had advised:

"You’re about to be baptized by what many of us consider holy water. This stream has never run dry, not even during floods. We’ve taken great care to ensure it never became polluted. When a child is born, reaches puberty, or passes through other significant milestones, we dunk them in the water in the hopes that we’ll be standing on the riverbank again, celebrating another."

"That's honestly pretty sweet," Kazuko admitted. Unlike Kiyotaka, who grew increasingly anxious as they neared the Hoshikage Clan lands, Kazuko became more excited.

"My family wasn’t neglectful, but they didn’t particularly invest in creating meaningful connections," Kazuko mused, her voice more reflective now. "What strikes me about your traditions is the genuine care embedded in them. There’s a deep reverence for milestones—almost as if they are sacred. That sense of belonging, of being seen and celebrated at each juncture of life... it’s something I’ve always hoped to find. The Hoshikage Clan seems to embody that, and it’s truly something to look forward to." 

Kiyotaka understood, thinking of the couple who had raised him, only to leave him be once he turned fourteen and started going to Tokyo Tech. But that didn't make him feel any better because the joy from earlier was replaced with a heaviness in his chest. The road ahead should have been calming, but with every passing mile, his anxiety only grew. They were nearing the Hoshikage Clan, and he couldn’t shake the weight of his responsibilities. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening.

"Stop the car," Tengen said calmly, his eyes fixed on Kiyotaka, whose knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

Kiyotaka blinked, momentarily confused. "We’re in the middle of the road, Tengen-san. I can’t just pull over."

Tengen gave him an unimpressed look before turning to the backseat. "Gojo-kun, switch with me. I think this requires your... particular expertise."

Without waiting for permission, Tengen and Satoru switched seats so quickly that it left Kiyotaka blinking in bewilderment. Before he could protest, Satoru flashed a smug grin, adjusting his sunglasses.

"What can I help my cute kōhai with today?" Satoru teased, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

Kiyotaka felt the blush creeping up his neck. "I apologize, Gojo—"

"Satoru," Satoru interrupted, leaning forward while staring directly at him. "Call me Satoru."

"What?" Kiyotaka asked, slightly bewildered by the insistence.

"Sa-to-ru," Satoru repeated slowly, this time with a playful wink. "But... if you’re feeling traditional, I have to admit—‘sempai’ does have a nice ring to it."

Kiyotaka felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he stumbled, "...Satoru-sempai?"

Satoru gasped theatrically, clutching his chest. "See? Wasn’t that easy? Now, humor me—just this once." He flashed a teasing smile before his expression turned more serious. "But jokes aside, we need to talk."

Kiyotaka shifted in his seat, eyes fixed on the road.

Satoru didn’t say it out loud, but his thoughts drifted back to all the moments over the years when he had tested Kiyotaka’s patience, only to receive quiet understanding in return. He recalled the fresh flowers Kiyotaka regularly placed on Tsumiki’s bedside—something neither he nor Megumi would have thought to do. He thought of the snacks that were always in the car or the blanket Kiyotaka kept in the backseat because he noticed that Satoru ran cold. And the glasses—Kiyotaka’s Christmas gift—that blocked out cursed energy, allowing Satoru a sense of peace he hadn’t felt since childhood.

Kiyotaka might have been nervous about being a good leader, but Satoru, deep down, was mourning the inevitable shift. Soon, Kiyotaka’s time wouldn’t be so freely available. He’d have to share—fine when it came to the people in the car, but more difficult when thinking of the possibly hundreds of strangers waiting for Kiyotaka to lead them. Satoru would have no choice but to become the bigger person, offering guidance and support like any good sempai would.

The weight of these realizations pressed on Satoru, but he grinned despite it all. "You're worrying about how the clan is going to perceive you, right? Well, if they don’t like you... fuck 'em," Satoru said bluntly, his grin growing wider. Kiyotaka stared at him, shocked, before quickly returning his gaze to the road. Around them, the others hummed in agreement.

"We're all here because of you, Kiyotaka," Satoru continued, his tone more serious now. "You brought us together, and I wouldn’t have met half of the people in this car if not for you. I know you’ll be a great leader, and we’ll be here to help you every step of the way." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I’ve played a bigger role in your self-esteem issues than I’d like to admit... but I promise we’re here to back you up. Clan politics suck, and nothing gets done without sway, but we’ll be that sway for you."

Satoru fixed Kiyotaka with a look, making sure his words hit home. Kiyotaka sat up straighter, quietly nodding. "Don't ever forget that, okay?"

Kiyotaka’s grip loosened on the wheel, his anxiety ebbing slightly with Satoru’s words. He gave a small nod, more to himself than anyone else.

Satoru leaned back, a faint smile on his lips. "There we go."

The rest of the ride passed in reflective silence, Satoru’s words sinking into everyone’s minds. As the trees thinned and a towering gate appeared in the distance, signaling their arrival, Kiyotaka steeled himself. His hands relaxed their grip on the steering wheel, and his heart, though still heavy, felt just a bit lighter.

"Hey, Satoru-sempai?" Kiyotaka asked quietly, so only Satoru could hear. Satoru opened one eye lazily, glancing at Kiyotaka through the rearview mirror.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you... and if you'd like," Kiyotaka said, pausing briefly, "you can call me Kiyotaka."

Satoru blinked, surprised, before a slow smile spread across his face. Kiyotaka quickly looked away, ears burning, but the sincerity of his words remained. Satoru leaned back in his seat, satisfied. "I’m gonna hold you to that, Kiyotaka-kun," he teased.

As the car rolled closer to the gate, Tengen glanced at the group with mild amusement before turning back to the guidebook they had been reading earlier. 'This time,' Tengen mused, 'fate might just be a little kinder.'

Chapter Text

She was ancient. That was the only word that came to mind as they stepped out of the car, greeted by a figure as old as time itself. Draped in a simple kimono and a lace-decorated black veil obscuring her eyes, she could have been a specter from another world. They all discreetly stretched, taking in the sight of the elder with curiosity. Her gaze swept over them, unimpressed, and there was an unmistakable air of judgment.

"This Elder Yuki greets the Veil Forger and his allies," the old woman intoned, bowing deeply—a movement that belied her frailty.

Startled, Kiyotaka quickly moved to assist her, worried she might collapse under the strain. But before his hand could reach her, she straightened with surprising ease, her veil-covered eyes locking onto his—a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features.

"You are too kind," she murmured, her voice laced with a strange mix of disapproval and something else—something unreadable. "We will work on that."

Kiyotaka’s eyes darted to his companions, seeking some kind of guidance or reassurance, but they were as baffled as he was.

"Leave your keys in the car," she continued briskly, waving a hand dismissively toward the vehicle. "One of the younger ones will take it where it needs to be. Follow me. There is much to be done before the ritual... and the feast."

Everyone shared a quick look and hurried after her.

The sunlight bounced off the shimmering barrier Tengen controlled, obscuring the world beyond. As they passed through it, a wave of cool air greeted them, and they stepped into a realm that seemed untouched by time—leaving the mundane behind.

As Kiyotaka stepped through the barrier, he was greeted by a landscape that seemed to exist outside the confines of time—a realm where nature and humanity had not clashed but woven themselves into a seamless tapestry. It was reminiscent of a fantastical post-apocalyptic world, not one of ruin and desolation, but of renewal and balance. Here, nature had reclaimed its dominion, and humanity had gracefully ceded ground, resulting in a breathtaking truce between the two.

Towering ancient trees stretched skyward, their branches interlocking to form a verdant canopy that filtered sunlight into a mosaic of golden rays dancing upon the forest floor. Vines laden with blossoms draped over stone archways and wrapped around wooden structures, their petals releasing a subtle fragrance that mingled with the crisp, earthy scent of the woods.

A crystal-clear river meandered through the heart of the enclave, its waters shimmering with flecks of sunlight, reflecting the vibrant greens and bursts of color from the wild flora. The soft murmur of the current blended with the distant songs of birds, creating a serene harmony. The river served as a natural divide, with the left bank welcoming those arriving and the right bank guiding those departing. Elegant footbridges crafted from rich, dark wood arched over the water at intervals, adorned with intricate carvings that told stories of the clan's storied past.

The path ahead was lined with moss-covered stones, softened by time and footsteps, leading deeper into the enclave. Small animals scurried through the underbrush, unbothered by the presence of visitors, as if they too were members of this community. The air was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves, distant waterfalls, and the melodic calls of birds unseen.

Scattered throughout the landscape were traditional buildings with gracefully sloping roofs, their architecture blending effortlessly with the natural surroundings. The structures appeared as extensions of the environment—walls adorned with climbing ivy and rooftops that hosted patches of wildflowers swaying in the gentle breeze.

"Wow," Ken gasped, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. It was only now that he realized where Daisuke’s house got its inspiration. Suddenly, the low-maintenance style he had grown up with made perfect sense. Elder Yuki shot him a sharp look.

"Come. There will be time for exploring later," she said, continuing her brisk pace.

"Uh, Yuki-sama," Kiyotaka started hesitantly. She clicked her tongue sharply in disapproval.

"Veil Forgers bow to no one," she declared, fixing him with a glare. Kiyotaka flusteredly corrected himself.

"Yuki-san," he said with a quick glance in her direction. She didn’t look particularly pleased but said nothing.

"What is a Veil Forger? I was under the impression that I was an heir," Kiyotaka asked, his curiosity piqued.

"A Veil Forger and an heir... they are similar, yet worlds apart," Yuki replied, her voice clipped but patient. "One can be both, as you are, but an heir without the Veil is ordinary. A Veil Forger, however, is born once in centuries—if the stars align."

Kiyotaka blinked in surprise. "Why has it been so long? Is there a reason for the delay?"

"There’s a legend," Yuki said, her voice softening slightly as she continued walking. "A Veil Forger only appears when certain... conditions align."

"...And those are?" Kiyotaka pressed.

She stopped walking, turning to cast her gaze over the group. "You’ve brought together not one, but four individuals from two of the most powerful cursed-user clans."

Maki furrowed her brow. "Four? There are only three of us here, Yuki-san."

"No," Satoru interrupted, his voice sharp. "She’s the fourth. How many eyes do you have?"

Yuki's lips pressed into a thin line, her veil-covered eyes narrowing at Satoru. "How rude of you, brat."

Satoru grinned impishly. "Maa, Obaa-chan, relax! I didn’t ask for your birth year, did I?"

Yuki huffed, clearly unamused. "You are a progeny of Taichi; I can tell."

Satoru tilted his head, a confused noise escaping him. "Taichi? The only Taichi I know of was my grandfather, and he passed away almost 60 years ago."

"I know," Yuki said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "I am his twin."

Her words landed like a physical blow. Everyone froze, processing the unexpected revelation. Yuki’s lips curled into a vicious grin, clearly enjoying their shock.

She didn’t wait for a response and kept walking, her steps as deliberate as ever, while the group exchanged wide-eyed stares behind her.

"Wait a second!" Satoru practically yelled. "That would make you over a hundred years old!" he exclaimed, his disbelief evident.

"And I feel every one of them in my joints," Yuki retorted dryly.

"Well, I for one," Kazuko chimed in, "would have guessed sixty or seventy. You look fantastic for your age." Her tone was smooth, yet genuine, and for the first time, Yuki’s lips twitched upwards in something resembling approval.

"Thank you, child," she said, her voice softening for a moment before her gaze landed on the Zenin twins. "What is your grandfather's name?"

Maki shrugged, indifferent, but Mai fidgeted slightly, tucking a lock of hair nervously behind her ear. "His name was Yamato," Mai replied, her voice quiet.

Yuki hummed thoughtfully. "If I had been weaker, you two would have been my grandchildren," she remarked, her tone measured.

The twins blinked, momentarily confused by the cryptic comment. "Is that an insult or a compliment?" Daisuke muttered as they neared a large, imposing structure in the distance.

"It depends," Yuki replied with a trace of humor. "While the Gojos can be insufferable, we, at least in my time, were making strides toward gender equality. I spent my late teens and early twenties on battlefields, fighting curses and humans alike. I was not born with the Six Eyes..." she trailed off, her voice lowering as if recalling long-buried memories. "But I must have taken Taichi’s share because I was born with not six, but twelve."

Satoru’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Yuki continued, her voice steady and unbothered. "He always hated me, called me a thief for taking what was rightfully his." She huffed irritably. "That’s probably why, the second he could—once it was decided that he would be clan head—he tried to ship me off to that sexist Yamato. Met the man once," she rolled her eyes, "knew I’d end up in jail before the marriage was even finalized."

With a sudden left turn, Yuki led the group toward an enormous building that dwarfed all the others. Its sheer scale left everyone momentarily speechless.

"I ran away with my personal maid not long after—my only ally in a house that felt more like a prison," she continued, her voice cool but with a shadow of pain. "She belonged to the Hoshikage Clan. We got married two years later and raised a handful of children. I’d wager one of my grandchildren could probably take you down," she added with a pointed glance at Satoru.

Satoru's eyes widened in response, but before he could retort, Yuki diverted their attention as she led them toward the largest structure any of them had seen yet. Built in traditional Japanese architecture, it rose several stories high, its deep red wood gleaming in the afternoon sun. Ivy crawled up the outer walls, softening its otherwise imposing presence, while trees in full bloom dotted the surrounding area, their petals falling softly to the ground.

"This is our welcoming center," Yuki explained as they reached the wide steps. "Hasn’t been used in decades, but it’ll serve its purpose today. Behind it, you’ll find our government systems and structures—which you’ll eventually become familiar with," she added, giving Kiyotaka a sharp look. "But that is a discussion for another day."

Two men were standing in front of the building as they reached the imposing front doors—one looking thoroughly bored, while the other seemed animated, almost cheerful. They nodded respectfully at Yuki, their expressions neutral but curious as their gaze swept over the group.

"Never seen any of you before!" chirped the more upbeat of the two, a grin tugging at his lips.

Yuki didn’t miss a beat, snapping at him with authority. "Be respectful. The Veil Forger has finally arrived."

At those words, both men straightened up, their gazes narrowing in focus. They began by sizing up Satoru, his tall frame and confident demeanor enough to make them hesitate for a moment. But one quick glance at his relaxed posture and playful smirk, and they moved on.

Their eyes briefly rested on Ken and Kazuko, who seemed relaxed but curious. The pair exchanged a glance, as if silently communicating, before the guards looked away, unconvinced.

When their gaze shifted to Maki and Mai, the twins were met with kind, knowing smiles, acknowledging them, but clearly not who they were searching for. The guards moved on without hesitation.

Next came Daisuke, receiving a respectful nod for his stature and age, and Tengen, who caused a flicker of confusion in their expressions, though they quickly moved past.

Then their eyes landed on Kiyotaka, standing quietly at the back. The moment their gaze settled on him, there was a collective pause—a subtle ripple of realization passing between the two men. Their eyes widened, the pieces falling into place, and in that instant, the quiet man became the center of their attention.

Kiyotaka felt a rush of warmth to his face, his cheeks flushing pink under the weight of their focused scrutiny. If anything, his embarrassment seemed to make them even more certain, their gazes softening into something almost reverent.

“These door guards are honored to greet the Veil Forger and his allies,” one of them intoned, bowing low before stepping forward to open the grand doors.

The group exchanged a look—Kiyotaka, still flustered, could feel his heart racing, though he forced himself to nod in return, doing his best to maintain composure.

As they stepped inside, a cool, welcoming dimness enveloped them, the space resonating with the calm elegance of traditional Japanese architecture. Above them, ancient cedar beams stretched across the ceiling, their dark stain rich with the weight of centuries, supporting the open rafters like silent guardians of the past. Sliding shoji doors, crafted from delicate paper and sturdy wood, were set into the walls, their intricate lattices casting soft, geometric shadows across the polished tatami mat floors. A low, well-worn wooden platform stretched along the entryway, where visitors were expected to remove their shoes—a reminder of the formality and respect inherent to the space.

In the center of the room, a large, sunken hearth sat surrounded by woven cushions, faint wisps of smoke curling upward from the embers. The walls were adorned with hand-painted screens, each depicting serene landscapes: towering mountains, flowing rivers, and vast, cloud-filled skies—each scene carefully chosen to evoke peace and introspection. Delicate paper lanterns hovered from the ceiling, casting a soft, ethereal glow that bathed the room in warmth and serenity.

As Kiyotaka walked through, his attention drifted to the frames and corners, where intricate seals were placed. Their precise placement piqued his curiosity, his fingers itching to take notes, but before he could indulge, Kazuko gently looped her arm through his, guiding him forward before he became too absorbed.

The scent of fresh laundry filled the air, crisp and citrusy, welcoming them as they entered the large room where the kimonos for tonight's event were being prepared. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, filled with bolts of fabric, only interrupted by six small dressing rooms. Tiny shikigami floated through the air, dusting shelves as they emitted soft coos of greeting. At the front desk, a teenage girl sat with headphones on, her fingers tapping along to music only she could hear.

"Ayumi," Yuki called, but the girl, lost in her own world, didn’t respond. Yuki’s steps quickened, her brow furrowing with impatience.

"Ayumi!" she repeated firmly. The others exchanged glances of amused concern but chose to stay back.

"AYUMI!" Yuki snapped, clearly irritated. The girl jolted upright as if waking from a dream, blinking rapidly before a bright, mischievous grin spread across her face as she pulled off her headphones, revealing a few stray cowlicks.

"Yuki Obaa-chan!" Ayumi beamed, pulling off her headphones. Yuki clicked her tongue, unimpressed.

"What am I going to do with you, child?" Yuki muttered, sending an exasperated glance skyward. Ayumi just laughed, unfazed.

"No idea what you’re talking about," Ayumi replied cheerfully, stretching her arms with a loud pop. Yuki's disapproving expression flickered into brief concern.

"You’re far too young to be having back problems! For the love of the gods, sit properly, will you?" Yuki chided.

"I do sit properly!" Ayumi protested though Yuki’s snort made it clear she didn’t believe her.

"Of course, and that’s why the Tsugime have been complaining about your lack of manners."

"I have plenty of manners, thank you very much! They’re just upset that I prefer hakamas and t-shirts over kimonos."

"Hakamas are for men, and if you had any manners, you would have greeted our guests by now," Yuki shot back. Ayumi blinked in surprise, her gaze finally lifting to the group of strangers who were trying—and failing—not to laugh at the whole exchange. Her face turned bright pink as she whipped back around to glare at Yuki.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SOONER?!" Ayumi wailed, pointing dramatically at Yuki. Yuki raised her cane and gave her a sharp tap on the hand.

"Don’t treat me like one of your school friends, brat. I changed your diapers twice a week, so show some respect." Ayumi pouted, rubbing her reddened hand while mumbling under her breath.

"What was that?" Yuki asked, her eyes blazing with authority.

"Nothing, nothing!" Ayumi quickly responded, waving her hands in mock innocence. She then turned to the others, giving them a light bow and a cheeky grin. "Sorry about that, Obaa-chan is always like this, but I know I'm her favorite!"

Yuki's glare intensified as she raised her cane threateningly once more, but Ayumi dodged with a laugh, nimbly sidestepping the strike.

"Anyways," she drawled, "Welcome to the fabric shop of the Tsugime! I am one of the apprentices of those old ladies, and I have the dubious honor of showing you all your outfits today." She started walking towards the dressing rooms.

"You guys are our only appointment for today, so this should go quickly." There was a clothing rack with multiple black clothes bags on it.

"No manners whatsoever," grumbled Yuki as she hobbled over. Ken looked at the others and murmured,

"Dubious?" The others shrugged and started walking to where Ayumi was. She was humming quietly, peeking into the black clothing bags that were on a rack near the dressing rooms. She picked up six and slipped them into each dressing room.

"If Ijichi Kiyotaka-san," she gestured to the first dressing room, "Matsumato Daisuke-san," second dressing room, "Matsumato Ken-san," third, "Inoue Kazuko-san," fourth, "Tengen-sama," fifth, "Gojo Satoru-san," sixth, "could go into the dressing rooms first, I need to double-check the final measurements for Maki-san's and Mai-san's kimonos." She picked up the last two bags.

"Usually, this is a multi-team member job, but the Tsugime are helping finish set up for the welcome party, so I and Beniha Oba-san's shikigami will do this on our own." She looked up at the floating creatures, 

"You guys ready?" she called out. The tiny beings let out squeaks of confirmation and started glowing. Moving quickly, they met in the middle of the room, before merging into two humanoid entities.

"Ready when you are, mini boss!" said one of them when the glowing died down.

As the group exchanged nervous glances, each person made their way toward the dressing rooms, their steps ranging from hesitant to eager. Kiyotaka and the others disappeared behind their respective doors, while a small chuckle escaped from Ayumi's lips as she led the Zenin twins in a different direction. She waved for them to follow her down a short, narrow hallway into a brightly lit space. The area opened up to reveal a well-organized worktable cluttered with threads and strings of every color imaginable, illuminated by the soft glow of paper lanterns. A raised platform stood in the center, framed by a clothing rack with a few carefully placed hangers.

Without wasting any time, Ayumi hopped onto the platform and, with swift movements, hung the two black bags on the rack. She then jumped down with the agility of someone far younger than her years, landing effortlessly back on the ground.

"What... is this?" Mai asked, glancing warily at the setup while Maki crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

"You'll see," Ayumi responded mysteriously, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She gestured to the platform, ushering the girls toward it.

"Stand up there, both of you," she instructed, her tone light but firm.

The twins exchanged confused looks but complied, stepping onto the platform as Ayumi pulled the floating curtain across, enclosing them within the space. The soft rustling of the fabric filled the room, and for a moment, the twins stood in puzzled silence, unsure of what was happening.

"Okay, so which one's mine?" Maki asked, her hand hovering near the two black bags on the rack.

Ayumi grinned from the other side of the curtain, her voice taking on a teasing tone. "You'll figure it out when you see them."

The twins shared another bewildered glance, but there was no more time to ponder the mystery. Ayumi left them to their task, her soft hum barely audible as she worked on something unseen behind the curtain. Sharing a look, Maki unzipped the first bag, revealing a soft light-blue furisode adorned with delicate silver water lilies floating gracefully along the hem. Some lilies were fully bloomed, while others were just budding, their petals glistening in the light with intricate silver detailing. Small, light-blue dragonflies flitted between the lilies, adding a touch of whimsy and movement. The edges of the sleeves had embroidered ripples of water, as did the bottom of the overall kimono. There was a silver obi, with large light-blue embroidered diamonds, tied in the back in the shape of a large bow. The final touch was a silver obijime, with two knots on it. Mai let out a soft gasp.

"It's gorgeous!" she quietly squealed. Maki nodded in agreement, knowing instantly that this was Mai's. She moved on to the next bag, unveiling a slightly more saturated blue furisode. Maki let out a quiet laugh, and Mai joined her as well, both delighted at the sight of the large dark blue dragonflies with silver wings that almost shimmered in the light, flying above delicate silver water lilies, floating serenely along the hem along the sleeves and the bottom of the kimono. Growing up, Maki had always loved dragonflies, their appearance marking the start of the happiest times of their shared summers.

The furisode had a dark blue obi, made of comfortable heavy leather, with interconnected diamond patterns carved into it. She, too, had a silver obijime, though hers only had one knot compared to Mai's two.

The twins got to work putting the kimonos on.

"Oh my God—Maki!" Mai hissed excitedly as she finished wrapping the obi on and retying the bow. "They have pockets!" she continued, practically vibrating with excitement. Maki patted her sides, pleasantly surprised by finding pockets as well, and slid her hands into them.

"They're deep as well," she added with approval.

When they pulled back the curtains, Ayumi was patiently waiting for them. She grinned at the sight of the both of them, obviously pleased.

"Looking sharp, both of you!" Ayumi grinned, clearly pleased with her work. "We weren’t sure who’d get which kimono, but since one of you carries a gun and the other loves a good variety of weapons, we gave you both pockets and adjusted the sleeve lengths for extra mobility. You’re welcome."

"You guys were really thoughtful—thank you," Mai said happily with a bright grin, Maki also smiling. Ayumi turned pink, a flustered look of wonder crossing her face.

"Oh," she said. The twins looked at her in confusion. Maki's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Ayumi's eyes danced with delight. "I think I’ve found my muses," Ayumi announced dramatically, her eyes gleaming with excitement. The twins blinked, sharing a confused glance.

"O-oookay," Maki started slowly. Ayumi shook her head suddenly and cleared her throat.

"Sorry, sorry. I’ve been in a creative slump ever since I started apprenticing. The older Tsugime always said I’d find my spark once I met my muse... looks like you two might just be it!"

"Anyways," Ayumi continued, "we didn't know who was who, so we hadn’t picked out your parts for your kamikazari, which is a good thing because Mai-chan has short hair, and we'd need to make it a little shorter, and Maki-chan's long. Let me help you guys down, and we can look at materials really quick so I can make something. I have a couple ideas in mind."

"So here's what I'm thinking, right? Forget the dangling pearls and stuff, let's keep it simple, more condensed," Ayumi said, flipping a switch to brighten the work table. "Hair clips for both of you. For Mai-chan, I know I made some lace and silver incrusted lilies last year."

She pattered off to the shelves, and the twins blinked in surprise, noticing the numbered racks lining the walls. Ayumi grabbed a notebook, flipping through it.

"Lilies, lilies, lilies, lil - 48!" Grabbing an arm extender, Ayumi reached for a glass jar in the 48th slot.

"Found them!" she said cheerfully, pulling out lace lilies. Next, she rummaged through a wooden chest filled with solid hair clips wrapped in fabric. Picking out silvers, whites, and light shades of blue, she quickly held them up to Mai's furisode, tossing aside the mismatches. Finally, she decided on a light blue one and stuck it in her pocket.

"Maki-chan," Ayumi turned, "Are you going to wear your hair up or down?"

"Up," Maki responded without hesitation.

"Great!" Ayumi hummed, scooping up the discarded clips and putting them back in place. "We have two options—hair claws or hair sticks?"

Maki blinked, unsure. She glanced at Mai, who had a thoughtful look on her face.

"Let me see the options," Mai said with a slight frown.

"Sure!" Ayumi chirped. "I was thinking maybe something iridescent?"

Mai nodded. "What about a navy blue base, with iridescent beads for detail?"

Ayumi rubbed her chin, considering it. "That could work."

They murmured quietly over different materials, their conversation washing over Maki like a calming rhythm. She closed her eyes, letting herself relax.

In the end, they settled on navy blue tinted glass hair sticks, with one large glittering pearl at the top, followed by a metal knot. At the tails of the knot hung two smaller pearls on each end. Mai gathered Maki’s hair into a bun as Ayumi, standing on tiptoes, carefully slid the sticks into place. They both stepped back, examining their handiwork.

"She needs a ribbon," they said in unison.

With a shared smile, they found a silver ribbon, which Mai tied delicately around Maki's bun. The two stood back, finally satisfied with the result.

When the twins and Ayumi returned to the group, they were greeted by the sight of everyone dressed in their formal attire. One of the shikigami was smoothing a crease from Kazuko’s furisode, which was also light blue and silver, with wisteria vines in purple and white trailing across the fabric. Tiny emerald green butterflies fluttered among the petals, giving her kimono an ethereal, almost otherworldly appearance. Her obi was the same shade of blue as Maki's, though with barely visible embroidered diamonds. Her hair was clipped back with a large silver clip adorned with tiny wisteria petals. She grinned as the twins approached, pleased with what she saw.

"Look at you two!" she cooed, meeting them halfway and gently taking each by the arm, instructing them to twirl. With light blushes but bright smiles, they did as told. The rest of the group looked on with soft gazes, happy to witness a moment of simple joy.

Ayumi gave them all a once-over, nodding in approval. "It was a good idea to go with a blue-to-green color scheme," she remarked.

From a chair in the back, where she had quietly observed the process, Yuki hummed in agreement, casting a critical eye over the group. "Both Daisuke-san and Ken-san in green was a smart move, and the bamboo motifs are a classic Matsumoto staple."

"And pants!" Ken added cheerfully, laughing as he swung around in his mostly light green outfit, trimmed in emerald green with bamboo leaves embroidered in silver thread. His haori-himo glittered in the light. "Look, they even have pockets!"

Daisuke rolled his eyes at his grandson’s enthusiasm but stood proudly, showing off his own attire: a dark navy ensemble with emerald green haori, the fabric so dark it was nearly black. His wide sleeves gave the traditional look, though his outfit had a modern twist with a wide silver-buckled belt instead of a haori-himo. Their outfits, though modern, suited them perfectly.

In contrast, Satoru’s attire leaned heavily into tradition. His deep navy blue haori made his eyes and hair stand out even more. Wide sleeves bore embroidered white clouds and bird wings, connecting to two cranes mid-flight on the back of the haori. His obi, made of gray leather, was dotted with tiny diamonds, mirroring Mai's.

Tengen, however, stood out the most. His light blue and white ensemble, while fitting the group’s color scheme, was decidedly ancient in style, reminiscent of the Heian period. His straight-line-cut kimono was made of fabric patterned with light blue and silver waves, as though sea foam had been woven into the material. His white hakama and the tate-eboshi that the other Shikigami had finished putting on him, was perched on his head completed the look. He scanned the group before frowning.

"Now where is Kiyotaka?" Tengen grumbled, eager to move on.

"Sorry, sorry, this took longer to put on than expected," Kiyotaka called as he stepped out from behind the curtains. The group turned to face him—and stared.

"I feel like I’m committing a crime," he said bluntly.

Unlike the others in kimonos, Kiyotaka wore a sokutai. His wasn’t the traditional yellow, but a deep indigo with an ombre effect that faded to white at the hems. His attire depicted an entire scene: between his shoulder blades rested a full moon, transitioning into clouds and then a river, bordered by bamboo shoots and wisteria trees. Dragonflies and lilies dotted the riverbank. Intricate silver embroidery of cranes adorned the hem of his sleeves and the edges of the sokutai, each crane in a different stage of flight.

Ayumi and Yuki squinted at him, then at Satoru.

"You two dating or something?" Ayumi asked, smirking.

Kiyotaka blinked in confusion. "Who are?"

"They aren’t, because they’re both idiots," Tengen muttered.

Ken tilted his head, eyeing both Kiyotaka and Satoru. "What does it mean if two people have the same motifs on their clothes?" he asked Ayumi and Yuki.

"It means you’re family," Yuki replied. "Unlike other foolish clans, we recognize non-blood-related members as family too. The saying 'blood is thicker than water' is actually a shortened version of the original, which is, 'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.' You all chose to be here, together, despite not all being related by blood. As you may have heard, the Tsugime can recognize family members as well as romantic partners."

She shot another glance at Satoru and Kiyotaka. "They’ve never been wrong before... unfortunately." Ayumi, looking gleeful, grinned even wider, as though she’d been waiting all her life for a romantic subplot to develop.

"Are we done here?" Tengen asked, exasperated.

"Wait," Kiyotaka said, suddenly panicked. "Am I even allowed to wear a sokutai? I’m not a courtier, part of the nobility, or the imperial family!"

Yuki rolled her eyes, though no one saw. "The Japanese government recognizes the Hoshikage as a sovereign state," she replied. "Congratulations. If you want, we can start calling you ‘king’ or ‘emperor.’"

Kiyotaka paled instantly as Satoru burst out laughing.

"This is perfect!" Satoru said with a wide grin, finding amusement in Kiyotaka’s discomfort; his eyes twinkling with mischief. "That means we can carpool to all those fancy meetings and events!" Kiyotaka shot him a look of exasperation before another thought hit him.

"Wait, does that mean all clans are considered sovereign?"

"No," Yuki replied.

"...Why?"

Yuki smiled, her expression sharp and full of teeth. "You’ll come to find, Veil Forger, that there are very few who would be foolish enough to cause problems for our clan."

A shiver ran down everyone's spine—except for Daisuke, Tengen, and Ayumi, who nodded their heads in agreement.

Chapter Text

Kiyotaka sputtered as he climbed out of the river, soaked from head to toe. Kazuko handed him a towel, her hair already wrapped in one. Like everything else that had happened since they stepped into this place, the ritual had steps—steps dictated by a strict hierarchy. Everyone but Satoru, Tengen, Daisuke, and Kiyotaka had gone first. According to the older man in charge, there was a specific order for who entered the water. Tengen and Daisuke, having already completed their time in the spiritual liquid long ago, had no desire to go through it again. Satoru had gone after the others and quickly popped out, claiming,

"Eh, it’s just like I see the world usually, only... wet."

Yuki had nodded in agreement. Now, Kiyotaka found himself drying his hair and sympathizing with Satoru. It felt like the world had been sucked into him and poured out through his eyes, nose, and every pore of his body. Finding out this was how his senpai felt every single waking moment made Kiyotaka understand why Satoru was the way he was.

'I’d be annoying too if I dealt with this every day,' Kiyotaka thought to himself. He glanced at Satoru, only to find the man looking back at him, an amused smile dancing on his face and half-lidded eyes glittering in the sunlight. Still wet, his hair dripping, the light hit him in a way that made him almost... sparkle.

How? Kiyotaka wondered before his face slowly turned red. Between gaining a new title, learning he was now some sort of authority figure, and the fact that Satoru was shiny and his wet clothes were practically skin-tight, Kiyotaka felt like he might die.

Then Satoru's eyes widened slightly, his grin filling with mischief. Kiyotaka’s heart sank. 'Yep, death is coming, and the shinigami smiles at you right before taking your soul.'

"Don’t worry," Satoru said, "you’ll get used to it."

Kiyotaka blinked in confusion. "What?" he croaked.

"The lights, the feeling of the world’s energy," Satoru explained. Kiyotaka almost staggered in relief, glad it wasn’t about him staring for too long. Satoru walked over and casually slung an arm around his shoulders.

"You’re cold!" Kiyotaka snapped, trying to shake him off. This only prompted Satoru to wrap both arms around him, laughing with delight.

Behind them, the others watched with varying degrees of interest. Maki exchanged a look with Ken, Kazuko, and Mai, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. Ken's eyes twinkled, Kazuko snorted, and Mai looked baffled.

"Don't be like that, Maki-chan," Ken teased, poking her cheek. If looks could kill, Ken would have been six feet under.

"I don’t know," Kazuko mused. "They would be cute together."

Mai nodded thoughtfully as if completing some internal assessment.

"Well," Maki huffed, "I don’t like it. The blindfolded idiot already comes around too often as it is, and Kiyotaka-san deserves better."

"He doesn’t even wear a blindfold anymore!" Ken sang out.

"Because Kiyotaka-san made him glasses for his birthday!" Maki snapped back. Kazuko placed a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Regardless, Kiyotaka-kun is a grown man, and a surprisingly stable one at that. Whatever he decides, all we can do is offer advice when he asks or needs it." Her voice softened slightly. "This doesn’t mean he loves you any less or will spend less time with you."
Maki grumbled something under her breath but seemed less irritated.

"Are you a masochist?" Goki asked, looking at her summoner in bewilderment.

Kiyotaka froze, mid-way through scrunching the curls at the front of his hair, fingers still tangled in the strands. They were in one of the rooms at Daisuke’s old house, Kiyotaka preparing for the ceremony. His Ayakashi companions were milling about. In honor of the special occasion, the origami forms sported cute little bows, and the wooden-bodied Ayakashi wore paper kimonos. To top it off, Kiyotaka had made masks to distinguish Zenki, Goki, Shingi, Gitsugu, Gijo, Gitatsu, and Gigen. The parents had chosen traditional ogre masks, while the boys had picked animals.

All of the Ayakashi froze, Murasaki halting her midair weaving.

"What?" Kiyotaka asked, equally baffled.

"Gojo Satoru? Really?" Goki’s voice was flat with disbelief.

Kiyotaka groaned. "It’s not like that," he whined, sounding pathetic even to himself. Goki stared at him, hands on her hips.

"Who even told you?" he complained. Goki continued to stare, the effect amplified by her oni mask.

Zenki glanced between his wife and Kiyotaka, then back at his wife again. "Err, congratulations?"

Goki glared at him. "Don’t congratulate him!" she hissed.

"Fine, if you’re not a masochist, are you a moronsexual?" she demanded.

Kiyotaka blinked. "A mor—Satoru-sempai is not a moron!" he cried.

Suddenly, all the Ayakashi turned toward him, their expressions gleeful. Kiyotaka realized, too late, that he had made a fatal mistake.

"Satoru-sempai, hmm?" Murasaki asked, her tone laced with amusement.

Kiyotaka sputtered. "It just... sort of happened, okay?" he said defensively.

"...Sort of happened?" Genbu's turtle head scoffed.

"You’re not making a great case for yourself," his snake head pointed out.

Kiyotaka shrank under their scrutiny. Seiryuu sighed, pitying him.

"Let the lad be. He must needs finish his dressing," Seiryuu lightly scolded the others.

"This isn’t over, Kiyotaka!" Goki warned though she turned to another matter. Flustered and embarrassed, Kiyotaka hurried to finish getting ready.

Kiyotaka stared at the scenery before him, then at the others, who looked just as perplexed. They sat at a large table with a clear view of everything. Before them lay the same scene depicted on his sokutai, down to the wisteria and bamboo growing by the riverbank. There were no cranes, but other birds flew around. Kiyotaka glanced at the people who made up the clan he would lead, feeling a mix of anticipation and honor.

The feast resembled more of a festival, with children running around with toys, the younger Ayakashi mingling among them, and laughter filling the air. Fireflies and shikigami glowed while lanterns provided the last bit of light. It was beautiful—unlike anything Kiyotaka had experienced in his ten-plus years in the Jujutsu Society much less the fourteen years before those ten. 

A small girl, holding the hand of an old man—likely her grandfather—danced slowly in the flattened field near a group of musicians. Their serene movements contrasted the energetic atmosphere around them, yet they seemed perfectly at peace. Kiyotaka allowed himself to relax slightly, though the weight of his new responsibilities lingered at the back of his mind. So many new faces had introduced themselves to him, each sticking to brief introductions, which he appreciated. A notebook lay open before him, filled with carefully written notes on each person's name, a notable characteristic, and their job. It was his way of coping, a way to focus amidst the overwhelming newness of it all.

Satoru, as usual, was being himself—somehow managing to add to Kiyotaka’s stress without doing much of anything. He glanced sideways at the older man, who seemed focused on finding his next sugary snack. Yuki, seated on Kiyotaka’s left, quietly observed everything, her eyes hidden behind a light, gauzy veil. Her kimono, adorned with a delicate star pattern, gave her an ethereal presence.

"I’ll leave after most of the introductions are done," she had said earlier, her tone one of mild apology. "Some people don’t know when to stop talking." Her sharp gaze landed on a man in red who stood farther down the line. He visibly deflated, and Yuki simply hmphed in satisfaction.

Maki, seated to Kiyotaka’s right, snickered at the exchange. But as the introductions continued, a change in the atmosphere occurred. Ayumi, dressed in a haori and hakama, was leading an elderly woman toward them, her hand gently resting on the woman’s white cane. The woman moved slowly but confidently, and Kiyotaka instinctively began to rise, intending to offer his seat.

"Sit back down," Yuki commanded without looking at him. Kiyotaka complied immediately. Yuki instead got up, offering her seat to the other woman.

Ayumi helped the woman into the now-empty seat and then moved to where Maki and Mai chatted quietly nearby.

"My love," the blind woman began, her voice gentle but with a hint of exasperation, "would it kill you to be a little nicer to those outside our immediate family?"

Yuki rolled her eyes standing beside her. "Sounds like weakness to me."

The woman chuckled softly, lifting a hand to tuck a loose lock of Yuki’s hair behind her ear. Yuki flushed faintly at the gesture.

"For the love of the gods, Hana, not in public," Yuki muttered, though she didn’t move away. Hana only laughed her gentle demeanor a stark contrast to Yuki’s sharp edges. Kiyotaka studied the older woman more closely. Her kimono, like Yuki's, was decorated with stars. When she turned to face him, Kiyotaka noticed her eyes—soft and brown, clouded with the milky haze of blindness, their once-clear depths now veiled in a muted sheen. Though they no longer see, they still hold a quiet intensity, reflecting the light in a way that suggests stories untold and emotions felt in ways beyond sight. 

"So, you are the child who gets to wear my greatest creation," Hana said, skipping formalities and going straight to the point.

Kiyotaka blinked, startled by her directness. "Uh, yes?" he replied, unsure if it was the right response.

Hana chuckled again, her tone warm and approving. "You are kind," she observed. Kiyotaka braced himself for the same disapproving lecture Yuki had given him earlier, but instead, Hana added, "Good. Kind leaders are hard to come by."

"Because the world chews them up and spits out the bad parts," Yuki grumbled.

Hana hummed in response. "That’s why a good leader needs a vicious team," she countered. Yuki rolled her eyes.

"And where’s he going to find one of those?"

Hana grinned, clearly amused. "Didn’t you say he came with a group that has good heads on their shoulders?" Yuki’s fading blush returned.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Yuki complained, sulking. Hana took her left hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it right where Yuki's wedding band resided.

"Because, for reasons unknown to me, you’ve decided to live your life as a tsundere. The children and I understand what you mean to say, but these new ones will need time to adjust to your... peculiar behavior." Hana’s tone was soft and teasing. Yuki let out a heavy sigh, clearly resigning herself to the conversation.

Kiyotaka’s attention shifted as Maki stood up, motioning to Ayumi and Mai.

"Ayumi said there’s a shooting game happening, and they’re giving out cursed weapons as prizes," Maki announced, her eyes gleaming with competitive excitement.

Kiyotaka smiled at her, his fondness for the Zenin twins evident. "Alright, stick together."

"Sure, whatever," Maki responded nonchalantly. She headed off, Mai giving Kiyotaka a two-finger salute as Ayumi waved eagerly.

Hana, who had been watching the exchange with interest, turned back to Kiyotaka. "Your daughters?" she asked, curious.

"Uh, no, I’m only 25 and they just turned 15," Kiyotaka explained. Hana hummed in understanding.

"Ah, one of those relationships that isn’t quite sibling-like but isn’t parental either," she said, thoughtfully. "It is simply... yours."

Kiyotaka tilted his head slightly, considering her words. They made sense. "Yeah, it’s ours," he agreed quietly.

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence. Kiyotaka’s eyes wandered back to the feast, where Daisuke was now engaged in a drinking contest with a man who looked strikingly similar to him. Kazuko and Ken stood by, fretting over both men. Satoru, on the other hand, unsatisfied with the options of sugary treats available at their table, was off on his quest for a sugary treat with Tengen tagging along.

"You said this sokutai is your masterpiece?" Kiyotaka asked, breaking the quiet.

Hana’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh yes! Everyone thought I was going senile early because we hadn’t had a Veil Forger in over 400 years, but I had a dream before I started making it. In the dream, there was a man with curly black hair and elegant glasses, wearing a sokutai I instinctively knew I had created!" she said, her voice filled with pride.

Kiyotaka’s mouth fell open. "You can see the future?" he asked in awe.

Hana laughed, the sound light and joyful. "Maybe it’s the spiritual nature of this place, but occasionally, someone here can see the future. See that child over there?" She pointed toward a small girl playing near Byakko, the white tiger.

"That’s Koko-chan. The other day, she told me she was going to pet a white tiger. And here we are." Kiyotaka’s eyes widened as he looked between the girl and the Ayakashi.

"Not all visions are as significant as mine, but it still happens nonetheless," Hana added.

Kiyotaka’s brows furrowed. "Wait... are you—"

"Actually blind?" Hana finished for him, a knowing smile on her face. Kiyotaka shrank slightly in embarrassment but nodded.

"Yes, I am. I can’t see much that doesn’t have a cursed energy signature, and it’s hard to tell people apart by their cursed energy alone unless I know them well. I wasn’t born blind, though. It happened recently." She explained with a calm demeanor.

Kiyotaka listened intently, feeling a sense of reverence for her story.

"But here, we treat blindness differently. I became the head of the Tsugime thanks to my blindness," Hana continued. "The art of picking fabric is complex, especially when you consider colors, family lineage, and other complicated factors. So we leave it to instinct. Blindness removes the distractions of sight, and we are left with pure feeling."

Kiyotaka blinked slowly, processing Hana’s words. The idea of blindness being a gift, rather than a curse, was something he hadn't quite expected to hear. But it seemed to make sense in this unique place, where Kiyotaka had a feeling spiritual energy and instincts seemed to take precedence over everything else.

"You will come to find," Hana said with a smile, "that many things we do here are based on instinct. It's a tradition that simply... continues." She said confirming Kiyotaka's suspicions. 

Kiyotaka nodded, still not entirely sure he understood but willing to accept it for now. "Okay," he replied simply, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him.

Hana turned to face Yuki, who had been listening quietly, her veil fluttering slightly in the soft evening breeze.

"I really like this one," Hana declared suddenly, her voice full of warmth as she patted Kiyotaka’s arm.

Yuki snorted, focusing on her nails with deliberate indifference. "Was this before or after he won you 1,044,582 yen?" she retorted.

Kiyotaka let out a surprised squawk, and Hana bobbed her head from side to side thoughtfully. "Well, I liked him because of that, yes. But now that I’ve spoken to him, I really like him. We should adopt him," she concluded, as though it was the most natural suggestion in the world.

Yuki snorted again, though there was the barest hint of amusement in her expression. "I am not fighting Daisuke-kun over this," she said flatly.

Hana only laughed. "We could adopt him too! We’re old enough to be his parents, after all."

Yuki sighed, sounding as though she had dealt with this kind of conversation many times before. "Do what you want, woman."

Hana clapped her hands together, clearly pleased with herself, while Kiyotaka watched their conversation with a growing sense of wonder. He had never seen a relationship quite like this, and it fascinated him.

His musings were interrupted as a group of children of various ages—along with Gitsugu—came running up to the table. The Ayakashi was in the middle of an argument, his wooden head bobbing up and down with frustration.

"Boss! Boss! Boss!" Gitsugu called, his voice rising in irritation. "Explain to this kid that I’m an Ayakashi, not a shikigami!" He waved his peacock-feathered mask in the air, its feathers rustling as he turned to the group of wide-eyed children.

"We didn’t say you were a shikigami!" one of the children lisped, their voice high-pitched and utterly adorable.

"Yeah!" another child chimed in, nodding earnestly. "We wanted to know if you were a cursed corpse!"

Gitsugu’s wooden body seemed to puff up with righteous indignation. "Do I look like a cursed corpse to you?! What are they teaching kids these days?!"

Kiyotaka couldn't help but laugh at the entire situation. "Alright, children," he said, getting up from his chair and settling down on the grass, drawing the little ones's attention. "Let me explain the difference between the three; gather around."

The children immediately sat down in front of him, their eyes wide with excitement as they waited for his explanation. Gitsugu stood off to the side, still fuming but pleased that his boss was setting things straight.

Satoru quietly slipped into Kiyotaka’s seat, watching the scene unfold with a soft smile. "He’s doing a good job," Satoru commented aloud.

Yuki, who had been watching as well, fixed Satoru with a cold stare. "What do you want, brat?" she asked, her tone sharp.

Hana tutted softly. "Yuki."

"What? Does this brat look like he knows how to do small talk?" Yuki demanded, clearly unimpressed.

Satoru grinned, completely unbothered by her attitude. "I have a question," he said, turning to address Hana instead. She folded her hands in her lap, giving him her full attention.

"What can I help you with, child?" she asked, her tone gentle.

"I heard that you were in charge of our kimonos," Satoru began slowly, glancing down at his crane-embroidered sleeves.

"I was," Hana confirmed with a nod.

Satoru hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Is there a reason I’m wearing cranes?"

Hana’s smile widened, her expression softening with understanding. "Shall I give you a simple explanation, or would you prefer something more in-depth?" she asked kindly.

Satoru shifted slightly in his seat, clearly unsure of how to respond. "Whatever works best for you," he finally replied, his voice a bit quieter than usual.

Yuki let out an exaggerated sigh, crossing her arms in irritation, but Hana only smiled more warmly.

"Cranes have multiple meanings," she began. "Most people will see them and think of honor and nobility—both of which apply to the both of you." She gestured to Kiyotaka, his hands spread as he talked to the growing number of children in front of him. "They also symbolize longevity, as cranes are believed to live for a thousand years. Balance and harmony are also represented by cranes, but I think the meaning you’re looking for is loyalty and fidelity, isn’t it?"

Satoru blinked, looking completely lost. "Oh," was all he managed to say, his voice suddenly very small. "Are—are you sure?"

Yuki rolled her eyes again. "Yes, she’s sure, you idiot," she muttered, though there was no real malice in her tone.

Hana placed a gentle hand on Satoru’s shoulder, her expression kind. "The red string of fate never lies, my dear," she said softly.

Satoru looked at her in confusion. "The red string of fate?"

"It means you’re soulmates," Yuki grumbled, clearly unimpressed with Satoru’s cluelessness.

Satoru’s eyes widened in surprise. "Those exist?" he asked, his voice full of disbelief.

"Rarely," Hana replied, "but in this case, yes."

Satoru looked down at his sleeves again, his expression full of uncertainty. "I—I can’t stop watching him," he confessed quietly. "I don’t know why."

Hana’s smile was full of warmth and understanding. "We know," she said gently.

Yuki, however, was less forgiving. "Of course, you can’t, you moron. You’re soulmates." Satoru's eyes unconsciously fell once more on Kiyotaka. 

Satoru swallowed hard. "What do I do now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s up to you," Yuki said bluntly. "But I’d hurry if I were you. Soon enough, other people are going to start noticing what you’ve been seeing, and they won’t have your cold feet."

Hana tutted softly, giving Yuki a look of reproach. "Don’t scare him! Satoru-kun, if it helps you at all, your thread with him is very strong. A little frayed at the edges, but nothing that can’t be fixed with time."

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Preferably... alone."

Satoru turned bright pink at her suggestion, unable to form a coherent response. Hana simply smiled knowingly, while Yuki rolled her eyes once more.

Later that evening, after the feast and the festivities had wound down and most of the guests had gone home, Kiyotaka found himself standing alone outside. The air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the scent of fresh earth and lingering smoke from the fire pits that had burned during the celebrations. The night sky was clear, the stars twinkling overhead like tiny lanterns suspended in the vast darkness.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Kiyotaka could actually see the stars. He breathed in deeply, letting the serenity of the night wash over him. It had been a long day—overwhelming in many ways—but he felt strangely at peace. There was so much to process, so much he hadn’t even begun to understand about his new role, the clan, and his connection to this strange, mystical place.

"I’m not getting any sleep tonight," he muttered to himself, staring up at the stars.

A familiar voice cut through the quiet. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

Kiyotaka jumped in surprise, spinning around to find Satoru standing a few feet away, grinning at him with that infuriatingly playful smirk. 'How did he always manage to appear out of nowhere?'

"You scared me!" Kiyotaka scolded, his heart racing. Satoru just laughed softly, stepping closer.

"I don’t think I'll be able to sleep if I am being honest," Kiyotaka confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. "There’s too much going on in my head."

Satoru hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, I figured as much." He tossed an arm over Kiyotaka’s shoulder, a move that had become increasingly frequent lately. "Unfortunately, you’re going to have to let go of those jitters, because we’ve only got two more days here. And I know my little bookworm of a kohai is going to be stuffed with knowledge by the time we leave."

Kiyotaka sighed but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Satoru was annoying, yes, but his presence was also oddly comforting.

"Tell you what," Satoru continued, his tone light and teasing. "We’ll head back, get changed, and then I’ll come over to your room and stay with you until you fall asleep. How’s that sound?"

Kiyotaka’s brain screamed at him to say no, to draw some boundaries, but another part of him—one that was growing louder by the day—felt like saying no would be a terrible idea. It wasn’t just the fact that Satoru was offering to stay with him; it was the way he said it, so casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world for them to share space like this.

"That’s... fine, I guess," Kiyotaka mumbled, feeling his face heat up. He hoped it was dark enough to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Satoru’s grin widened, clearly pleased. "Great! Let’s go, then."

Thirty minutes later, Kiyotaka found himself showered, changed, and sitting on his bed, staring at the door. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he kept glancing at the clock, counting the minutes since Satoru had promised to show up.

He had just about convinced himself that Satoru wasn’t coming—maybe he’d forgotten, or maybe it had just been a joke—when the door slid open quietly.

Satoru stepped inside, dressed in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, his glasses perched on his nose and his pillow tucked under one arm.

"Ready for bed?" Satoru asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Kiyotaka just nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. He shuffled over to make room for Satoru, who slid into the bed beside him without hesitation. Now that they were lying side by side, Kiyotaka wasn’t sure how to feel. His mind was racing a mile a minute, and he was hyper-aware of every little movement Satoru made beside him.

"Why are you still wearing your glasses?" Kiyotaka asked, desperate for any kind of distraction from the tension he was feeling.

Satoru reached up to touch the frames lightly. "When I wear them, I actually get decent sleep," he explained. "I even bought one of those fancy watches to track my sleep, and I’ve been getting about 65% deep sleep, which is pretty good for me."

Kiyotaka blinked, glancing at Satoru’s wrists. They were bare. "You’re not wearing the watch now," he observed.

Satoru shrugged. "I left it at home. Didn’t want to risk the higher-ups hacking into it and tracking my location or something."

Kiyotaka chuckled softly. "Smart thinking. I’ll make you a sleep mask with the same seals as your glasses, so you don’t have to worry about breaking them."

Satoru’s eyes lit up. "Really? That would be amazing! Thank you, Kiyotaka."

Kiyotaka’s heart skipped a beat at the genuine gratitude in Satoru’s voice. "No problem," he mumbled, feeling his face heat up again. Satoru's face slowly softened. "Please get some sleep Kiyotaka." He said quietly. 

Kiyotaka swallowed heavily.  He rolled over to face the wall, trying to calm the nervous energy buzzing through him. "Goodnight, Satoru-sempai."

"Goodnight, Kiyotaka-kun."

When Kiyotaka woke up the next morning, he felt surprisingly refreshed. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting soft golden light across the room. He yawned and stretched, only to freeze when he felt something warm and heavy draped over his waist.

Cracking one eye open, Kiyotaka stared down at the arm resting across his body.

'What the—?'

Slowly, he turned his head, and his breath caught in his throat. Satoru was still in bed, sprawled out like a lazy cat. One leg was sticking out from under the blanket, and his other arm was slung across Kiyotaka’s waist. His mouth was slightly open, and his glasses were askew on his face, but he looked peaceful—almost... cute.

Kiyotaka closed his eyes again, trying to steady his racing heart. 

With as much care as he could muster, Kiyotaka gently lifted Satoru’s arm and slid out of bed. He had a feeling today was going to be a long day, but for some reason, he was looking forward to it.

Satoru stirred slightly, but he didn’t wake up, instead letting out a soft snore and curling further into the blankets.

Kiyotaka smiled softly to himself as he quietly got dressed. Whatever today had in store for him, he was ready to face it.

Chapter Text

In the grand scheme of things, two days wasn’t nearly enough time. Just as Satoru predicted, Kiyotaka was swamped with new information. Faces and places blurred together, and only Yuki-san and two others remained constant in his presence. Matsuda Rina, the current clan head of the Hoshikage clan, walked with calm authority. Her graying black hair was clipped back, her shoulders strong, and her unwavering gray eyes greeted everyone by name with a gentle smile. She quickly became the kind of leader Kiyotaka hoped he could one day be.

Takahashi Amahle, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. Her lavender braids framed her dark brown skin and complemented her sharp, assessing gaze. While she was polite to everyone, Kiyotaka noticed she reserved a cold stare just for him.

It didn’t take Kiyotaka long to piece it together—less than ten interactions in fact. Amahle was supposed to be the next clan head. His arrival had changed that. Cold sweat pricked at his skin.

What am I supposed to do now? He thought, panic bubbling inside him.

Midway through his silent freak-out, Rina-san and Yuki-san moved away, leaving him alone with Amahle. She gave him a sharp side-eye, her sunglasses gleaming ominously in the sunlight. Without thinking, Kiyotaka blurted out:

“I’m so sorry.”

Amahle turned her full attention now on him, causing Kiyotaka to fidget uncomfortably.

“What are you even talking about right now?” she demanded.

“You were supposed to be the clan head, right?” Kiyotaka asked.

Amahle sighed, her voice steady but carrying the weight of something unspoken. “I was.”

“And now, I’ve taken that from you. To make it worse, you have to follow me around while I fumble through things you probably already know and have spent your life preparing for. I’d be furious if I were you,” he said, meeting her gaze directly.

For a brief moment, a flicker of sadness passed through Amahle’s eyes before she stuffed her hands into her pockets. “For the record, I’m not angry at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just... irritated by how everyone else treats me now.”

Kiyotaka listened quietly as Amahle continued. “It’s awkward. I picked this path as a teenager, and everyone got used to calling me the future clan head. Now that I’m not, they don’t know how to act around me.”

She paused, her voice softening. “Some people are so uncomfortable they pretend I’m not even there. That... hurts more than losing the title.”

Kiyotaka made a sound of understanding, and for a moment, they sat in awkward silence.

“What if... we gave you a new title?” Kiyotaka suggested cautiously.

Amahle scoffed. “There’s no spot available.”

“That’s not true,” Kiyotaka insisted, shaking his head. “I need a reliable right-hand person.”

Amahle blinked, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “You want to make me your right-hand after knowing me for two minutes? Sounds more like desperation than trust.”

Kiyotaka scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Maybe it is desperation. But I don’t have the luxury of waiting to build a hierarchy. You’re already respected. You know the people, and you probably understand how this clan works way better than I do.”

Amahle remained silent, her sharp eyes scrutinizing him. Kiyotaka braced for rejection.

“Why would you trust me after what I just said?” she asked, her voice quieter now, as though the question was more for herself.

Kiyotaka met her gaze, his expression softening. “Because you’re honest. You don’t hide how you feel, and you’re clearly competent. Honestly? I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to.”

Amahle seemed taken aback by his sincerity. Her guarded expression faltered just a little before she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I still think this is reckless, but... I’ll think about it.”

Kiyotaka smiled a genuine one. “That’s all I ask.”

They stood silently for a moment, the tension between them easing slightly. Amahle glanced around, noticing the others mingling nearby.

“If you’re serious about this,” she said, her tone softening, “then you’re going to have to take me seriously too.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Kiyotaka replied quickly. “That’s why I’d pick you for the role.”

Amahle studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. I’ll consider your offer. But don’t think I’m going to make this easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Kiyotaka replied, grinning.

Amahle smirked, the first real smile he’d seen from her. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The barrier stone loomed in front of them—a boulder easily three times the height of Satoru and just as wide.

Kiyotaka examined the seals on the rock, glancing at the paper talismans keeping this place hidden. At the top of the boulder, as if he belonged there, Tengen stood doing yoga, one foot on the ledge. Kiyotaka watched in amusement, while the others stared in bewilderment.

“Tengen-sama, what in the world are you doing?” Kiyotaka asked, unable to suppress his smile.

“Yoga,” Tengen replied.

“I can see that,” Kiyotaka said dryly. “But why on top of the barrier stone?”

Tengen paused, then answered, “I haven’t physically connected with this stone in nearly 400 years.”

Kiyotaka blinked. “And you need to be on top of it to do that?”

“Well, no. But I felt like it.”

Kiyotaka sighed, shaking his head. He decided it was best to leave it alone.

As Kiyotaka shook his head at Tengen’s carefree attitude, a quiet but insistent voice whispered in the back of his mind, reminding him of the task ahead.

"Alright, so what’s next on this ever-growing list of things to learn?" he muttered to himself. He was so deep in thought that he almost missed Amahle's deadpan comment.

"Hopefully something less chaotic than watching a centuries-old being do yoga on top of a boulder," she said, arms crossed, her earlier coldness replaced with a hint of amusement.

Kiyotaka stifled a chuckle. "Not sure if that's possible around here."

They began walking back toward the central courtyard, where more clan members were gathering, preparing for what Kiyotaka assumed was another round of rituals, ceremonies, or...whatever came next in this whirlwind of responsibilities. Amahle walked beside him, her posture more relaxed than before, but still keeping a bit of distance.

"So, do I get an official tour of this place now?" Kiyotaka asked, trying to break the ice further.

Amahle glanced at him sideways, realizing the mistake that had been made. "Neither you nor the people you came with have had a tour yet?"

"We were greeted by Yuki-san." He deadpanned the look on his face mirrored by Amahle. "I’ve been too busy learning how to not screw things up," Kiyotaka added with a shrug. "And honestly, I could use a breather."

Amahle raised an eyebrow. "A breather? You’re stepping into the most powerful role in this clan. There’s no time for—"

"You say that like you haven’t taken a break in years," Kiyotaka interrupted, flashing her a small grin. "I’m not the only one who’s about to drown in responsibilities. You can afford to take a breather too."

Amahle opened her mouth to protest but closed it just as quickly. She seemed to consider his words for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. A tour. But no slacking off. You still need to learn the layout, and that includes all the places the future clan head—" She stopped mid-sentence, correcting herself. "That you will need to know."

Kiyotaka nodded, feeling the weight of her words but choosing not to push further. He could tell this was still awkward for her, but she was at least trying to make the best of it. That counted for something.

They walked toward a cluster of small, traditional buildings nestled between the trees, with stone paths weaving through flower-filled gardens and over small streams. The beauty of the place was almost surreal, but Kiyotaka couldn’t shake the feeling of being constantly watched.

"Who’s in charge of maintaining everything here?" he asked, gesturing to the well-kept surroundings.

"Matsumoto members mostly," Amahle explained, her voice returning to its usual informative tone. "They’re known for their craftsmanship, especially in seals and weaving natural elements into their work. The seals that keep this place hidden are maintained by them."

Kiyotaka nodded thoughtfully. "Do they help with all the ritual...stuff too?" He asked awkwardly, unsure how to phrase the question correctly.

Amahle smirked. "‘Ritual stuff?’ That’s what we’re calling it now?"

Kiyotaka blushed. "I’m still getting used to all of this, okay? My ‘veil forger’ training manual is still in the works."

She gave him a sideways glance, clearly amused. "You’ll get there. Though I’m pretty sure that’s the first time anyone’s referred to centuries-old traditions as ‘stuff.’"

Kiyotaka shrugged, still embarrassed but not as much as before. "I like to simplify."

Amahle’s lips twitched, and for a brief moment, Kiyotaka thought he might have earned a laugh. She quickly masked it, though, and continued the tour, pointing out different areas of the enclave, including training grounds and meditation halls.

As they passed by one of the larger buildings, Kiyotaka couldn’t help but notice a group of children gathered near a shallow pond, tossing stones into the water. Among them was Gitsugu, who appeared to be giving a passionate lecture on the finer points of skipping rocks.

"Ah, there’s Gitsugu. Looks like he’s found his next batch of recruits," Kiyotaka mused aloud, watching the Ayakashi animatedly wave his arms around.

Amahle followed his gaze and smirked. "He's determined, I’ll give him that."

Kiyotaka smiled softly. "Yeah, he really is."

They walked in companionable silence, the quiet peacefulness of the enclave settling around them. The occasional sound of flowing water and distant laughter from the children punctuated the stillness. For the first time in a while, Kiyotaka felt a sense of calm.

“So," Kiyotaka began after a while, his tone more serious. "What do you really think of all this?”

Amahle didn’t respond right away. She looked ahead, her brow furrowing slightly as if she hadn’t allowed herself to fully consider the question before.

“I think…” she started slowly, “this place has a lot of history. And a lot of expectations.”

Kiyotaka nodded, letting her words sink in. “Yeah, I’ve been feeling that too.”

“But,” Amahle continued, turning to look directly at him, “it’s not all bad. You get to have a hand in shaping some of it now. And they are very welcoming of people. My grandparents and parents had come here for business and decided to stay here - I think it was a pretty wise decision.That being said, your rank here is about your willingness to take on responsibility, whether you like it or not.” She gave him a dry look. "Although you don't get a choice in the matter/prophecy/star alignment/way of the world or what not." 

Kiyotaka sighed softly. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Amahle shrugged, her tone lightening a bit. “Someone has to keep you in check. Might as well be me.”

Kiyotaka chuckled. "Glad I can count on you."

They had stopped at the edge of a small bridge, its arch gracefully curving over a stream that wound its way through the enclave like a ribbon of light. The water sparkled in the afternoon sun, casting soft reflections across their faces.

For a moment, everything was still.

...And then a loud yell followed by an explosion cut through the calm. Kiyotaka turned quickly toward the source of the sound, a mad crackling filling the air.

"Oh no," Amahle hissed. "She’s found a new victim."

Kiyotaka whipped his head toward her, eyes wide in confusion. “Who found a what?”

Amahle gave him a thin-lipped smile. “It’s best if you see for yourself. I have a feeling one of your friends might be in danger.”

She didn’t need to say anything else. Kiyotaka was off in an instant, running toward the chaos, while Amahle hurried to catch up.

Satoru had woken up to an empty bed, which didn’t bother him—Kiyotaka was an early riser after all—but what did bother him was the disapproving stares he received from Goki and Zenki’s oni-masked forms perched on the bedside table. Their tiny wooden bodies sat perfectly still, yet the judgment radiating from them was palpable.

"Unbelievable," Goki hissed, her voice filled with poorly concealed rage when she saw that Satoru was finally up.

Satoru, still groggy, blinked and rubbed his eyes before stretching. “What’s unbelievable?”

"You..." Goki seethed, the wood of her tiny form shaking with fury letting out rattling sounds. “You devil.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow. "Devil? I have to admit, I've been called many things, but this is new. Care to elaborate?"

Goki's wooden form leaned forward, her eyes blazing with anger beneath the mask. “How dare you use Kiyotaka’s moment of vulnerability against him! You are the worst kind of fiend!”

Zenki nodded in solemn agreement, his arms crossed as if passing judgment from his tiny perch. "It’s truly disgraceful," he muttered.

Satoru, now fully awake, stared at the two Ayakashi in confusion. “Okay, hold on a second. First of all, we didn’t even do anything.” His tone was defensive but also laced with genuine bafflement.

Goki’s arms flailed in frustration. “So, you’re stringing him along? Is that it?”

Satoru rubbed his temple. “I’m not stringing him along. Why are you two acting like we committed some kind of crime?”

“Why are you in Kiyotaka’s room?” Zenki demanded, his voice calm but filled with accusation. The silence that followed was heavy.

Satoru’s long legs swung off the bed as he sat up, his glasses askew. “He was having a crisis, so I stayed with him until he fell asleep. Then I passed out too. Simple as that.” He shrugged, looking almost sheepish.

The two Ayakashi exchanged a look. Goki narrowed her eyes, still suspicious, while Zenki tilted his head thoughtfully.

"You’re... different than usual,” Zenki finally said, squinting at him. “Less... annoying.”

Goki nodded in agreement. "Slightly less infuriating, yes.”

Satoru sighed. "Gee, thanks. High praise from the two of you." He scratched the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not trying to hurt him or mess with him. One of the elders told me something recently that, well, changes things.”

Both Goki and Zenki leaned forward, curious despite their irritation. “And what might that be?” Goki asked, impatient.

Satoru shifted uncomfortably, which was unusual for him. He never squirmed under scrutiny, but this time, it was different. "Kiyotaka and I..." He paused, his voice dropping slightly, “…are soulmates."

For a brief moment, the room was silent, as if the world itself had paused to process this revelation. Then, Goki let out a loud, devastated wail, causing Zenki to jump slightly in surprise.

“S-SOULMATES?!” Goki screeched, clutching her tiny wooden head in despair. "This is a catastrophe! The worst possible outcome!"

Satoru blinked, taken aback. “Catastrophe? Really?”

Zenki, looking equally stunned, cleared his throat. “Now, Goki dear, it’s not the end of the world—”

Goki spun to face her husband, her wooden mask tilting dangerously. “Not the end of the world? This chaos-bringer is destined to be with Kiyotaka forever! It was bad enough when He was STALKING him, and then they were just friends, but now? Now turns out that they're soulmates! This is worse than I could have imagined!” She pointed an accusing finger at Satoru, who raised his hands in defense.

“Hey, I think Kiyotaka’s pretty lucky, honestly," Satoru remarked, his usual grin resurfacing.

"Lucky?!" Goki’s voice was filled with outrage. "The universe has a twisted sense of humor, that’s what this is!"

Zenki, still attempting to defuse the situation, gently patted Goki on the back. "It’s not so bad, love. He’s powerful, loyal, and... well, he can be trusted, more or less."

Goki glared at Zenki. “Trusted? Have you met him?! He’s a walking disaster!”

Satoru crossed his arms, smirking. “True, but I’m Kiyotaka’s walking disaster. Whether you like it or not.”

Goki stared at him, her tiny wooden body trembling with frustration. She opened her mouth to retort, then shut it just as quickly, clearly too furious to speak. Finally, she managed to say, “I demand to speak to this elder—immediately!”

Kiyotaka sprinted toward the source of the explosion, his heart pounding. The closer he got, the louder the crackling grew, like wild energy crackling through the air. He rounded a corner, and there, in the middle of a small training field, stood Satoru—locked in what appeared to be a very chaotic, one-sided battle.

Across from him, a woman with black-and-white hair was launching blasts of different colored light at him, each shot causing small bursts of debris to fly into the air. Satoru, for his part, looked exasperated, dodging and weaving, his Infinity activated, making each blast dissipate before touching him. His movements were casual, almost lazy, but his irritation was clear.

"Orange!" the woman shouted gleefully, pointing her finger at Satoru with deadly precision. The orange light gathered at her fingertip again, and with a playful wink, she released it.

"What the—!" Satoru yelped, ducking under the orange energy blob, clearly not willing to let it test his Infinity. The blob hit a tree behind him and exploded into a harmless puff of smoke, leaving only a few charred leaves in its wake.

Kiyotaka froze, staring at the scene in front of him with wide eyes. "Are you trying to kill him?!" he shouted.

The woman—who Kiyotaka could only assume was a relative of Satoru’s based on her hair and eye color and reckless attitude—paused mid-attack, turning to look at him. She tilted her head curiously. “Kill him? No! Just... testing him out a little.” She grinned, mischief dancing in her eyes.

Satoru groaned, finally taking the opportunity to straighten up and cross his arms. “I’ve had a rough morning, and you," he jabbed a finger toward the woman, "are not helping. I’ve been patient, but clearly the world CLEARLY doesn’t want that from me today!"

He cracked his knuckles and lunged forward, aiming to tackle her, his blue eyes glowing with barely contained frustration.

A little while later, Kiyotaka found himself exasperatedly applying bandages to Satoru, who sat on a small bench looking like a scolded child. Nearby, the woman—who had introduced herself as Hakuyo—was in a similar state of disarray, though she was far more cheerful about the situation. Kiyotaka felt himself getting Deja Vu, suddenly in his kitchen back in Tokyo, Mai, and Maki huffing at each other.

“I can’t believe you two,” Kiyotaka muttered, shaking his head as he wrapped another bandage around Satoru’s wrist. Beside him, Amahle was doing the same for Hakuyo, though her glare suggested she wasn’t quite as forgiving.

“What even possessed you both to think this was a good idea?” Ayumi hissed as she hovered nearby, clearly unimpressed.

“She started it!” Satoru argued, though there was no real heat in his voice. He glanced at Hakuyo, who simply grinned back at him.

“I’ve never had someone who could actually fight me before!” Hakuyo said as if that explained everything. Her tone was cheerful, and her bright eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned towards Satoru. Satoru, for once on the side of sanity, moved further away from her. 

Kiyotaka sighed deeply, feeling the same sense of bafflement he’d experienced when speaking with Hana the night before. There was something about these people—this family in particular—that defied all logic. “Next time you two decide to do something like this, please, do it off clan grounds.” He turned to see the gigantic hole in Yuki and Hana-san's backyard. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “At least let me eat first next time. The hospitality here has been seriously lacking.” He tried to scratch at one of his bandages, but Kiyotaka immediately slapped his hand away, glaring at him.

Satoru pouted, though his eyes gleamed with amusement. “You're no fun, Kiyotaka-kun.”

At that moment, Goki, Zenki, and Hana-san entered the room, giving the group a quick once-over.

“Is the inspection over?” Hana asked as she slowly made her way to an empty chair, her hands gently resting on her cane.

“No,” Amahle replied, her voice terse. “It was interrupted because someone was too excited to fight.” She glared at Hakuyo, who merely shrugged, unapologetic.

“Satoru-nii and I had an excellent bonding exercise!” Hakuyo chirped as if she hadn’t just engaged in a chaotic energy battle. Satoru shot her a look of baffulment because when did HE decide he wanted to be siblings with HER?  He glanced at Goki, who was staring at him with a look that screamed:

This is how the rest of us see you.

Satoru had the decency to look a little ashamed.

Amahle suddenly froze mid-motion, her hands pausing from where she’d been cleaning up the scattered medical supplies. “Wait a second,” she said slowly, suspicion dawning on her. “Couldn’t the both of you have just healed yourselves?”

Satoru and Hakuyo exchanged matching grins of pure mischief.

Kiyotaka and Amahle groaned in unison, realizing they had done all of this for what amounted to nothing and that the chaos that had just unfolded would continue to do so if the two of them stayed together.

After all of the inspections were thankfully finally completed, it was time for Kiyotaka and the others to head back to Tokyo.

As they made their way toward the exit, the children who had been following Ken around for the past day and a half clung to him, begging him to stay.

“Uncle Ken! Can’t you stay just a little longer?” one of the kids whined, tugging at his sleeve.

Ken laughed breathlessly, patting the child’s head. “I have to get back to Tokyo, kiddo! I’m graduating next week,” he repeated for what must have been the fiftieth time. The kids groaned dramatically, clearly displeased.

Kazuko, meanwhile, was being similarly accosted by one of the Tsugime, a sweet elderly woman who clasped her hands warmly. “You’ll be back soon, won’t you, my dear?” she asked with hopeful eyes.

“Of course, Rika-san,” Kazuko promised with a gentle smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Rika nodded, satisfied. As she moved away, Masahiro sidled up to Daisuke with a grin. “And to think, you helped raise that kid,” he teased, gesturing to Ken.

“Shut up, you nuisance,” Daisuke grumbled, though there was a fondness in his voice. “I may be getting up there in years, but I can still take you in a fight.”

“Maa, my wife would kill me if I tried,” Masahiro said with a laugh. “And I’m pretty sure your kids would come after me too.” He gestured to Kiyotaka, and Satoru who were getting in the car, and Kazuko, Maki, Mai, and Ken who were finishing up last-minute conversations.

Daisuke rolled his eyes and walked toward the car, where Kiyotaka was already sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting for everyone to gather. Satoru had claimed the passenger seat, lounging comfortably.

“Oi, brats!” Daisuke called out to the group. “Say your goodbyes! I want to be back in Tokyo before nightfall and it's already four o'clock! ”

Maki tucked her phone into her pocket, having exchanged numbers with Ayumi. It had been nice hanging out with someone her age, outside of Mai - something she hadn’t experienced much before. Still, she was looking forward to returning to Tokyo. Whether it was Kiyotaka’s apartment with its one new window or Daisuke’s place where they crashed on futons in the living room, it would be nice to be home.

Hand in hand with Mai, Maki walked to the car, ready to leave. Ken and Kazuko gave their last waves and rushed after them. After the vehicle was started, Tengen walked up to it, stopping in front of Kiyotaka with unrushed footsteps.

"When the seal reconnecting the two barrier stones here and Tokyo tech, let me know. In the meantime," He looked back to almost all of the Hoshikage clan who were at the front gate, "I will stay here for a while." A soft peaceful smile settled on their face.

As they drove away, the Hoshikage clan waved goodbye, a stark difference from when it was only Yuki-san waiting for them when they arrived, the landscape faded behind them. Kiyotaka gripped the steering wheel firmly, free of anxiety and feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

"That wasn't so bad, hmm?" Satoru asked.

"No," Kiyotaka steadily agreed. "It wasn't at all." Whatever challenges lay ahead, for the first time in his life he felt like he could handle them.

Chapter Text

Goki’s eyes narrowed as her summoner banged his head onto his office desk with a quiet thump. Kiyotaka had been acting foolish lately, ever since they returned to Tokyo. Her plan to help him be a solid strong tree was starting to look like a far-off dream, Zenki had suggested she consider changing the analogy to bamboo instead. Additionally, despite his struggles, he was still considerate to his colleagues, which only added to Goki’s mounting frustration.

Suddenly, Kiyotaka's phone beeped, indicating a message.

It was from Gojo Satoru’s ward, Megumi-kun, who had politely asked Kiyotaka this morning if he could pick him up after school to take him to visit his sister in the hospital. Goki, reading over his shoulder, nearly lost it. This was the Gojo heir's responsibility, and yet here was Kiyotaka adding more to his plate.

She was about to unleash a rant about the injustices Kiyotaka constantly let himself suffer when she noticed the soft smile on his face. The stress lines that usually etched across his forehead had softened, making him look closer to his actual age instead of an overworked, much older man. His eyes twinkled with quiet joy, likely from receiving a message from Megumi without prompting.

Now what is this? she thought. Over the past few months, Goki had learned that Kiyotaka had a habit of helping everyone with everything, from minor tasks to large responsibilities. He also had a soft spot for children, and Megumi, it seemed, was no exception. She mentally filed that information away for later use.

Without responding to the message immediately, Kiyotaka logged into his work computer and checked his schedule for the day. Satisfied with the time available, he typed back on his phone:

"Good morning, Megumi-kun. I’m always happy to hear from you and even happier to take you to the hospital. I do have a meeting, so I can pick you up after school, but I’ll need to leave by 4:25ish. I can arrange a taxi for you afterward if that’s okay?"

The response was immediate. "That works, thank you." Goki nodded in approval, at least thankful the kid had good manners—unlike his guardian.

They left at 2:50, Kiyotaka stopping by a flower shop before heading to pick up Megumi.

“Who’s in the hospital?” Goki asked on the way.

“Tsumiki-chan, Megumi’s sister,” Kiyotaka replied. His face darkened. “She got cursed a few months ago. No one knows what this curse is.”

A shiver ran down Goki’s spine at the shift in his tone.

That’s how Goki found herself sitting beside Megumi in hospital chairs, watching as Kiyotaka fussed over the old flowers at Tsumiki’s bedside, then stressed about the new ones, and finally left to speak to the caretaker, ensuring everything was in place. Megumi, meanwhile, silently held his sister’s hand, a glazed look in his eyes. An hour later, Kiyotaka gently placed a hand on Megumi’s shoulder, bringing him out of his trance.

The ride back to Megumi's apartment was quiet. As they parked, Megumi, in a rare moment of vulnerability, looked at Kiyotaka through the rearview mirror.

“My sister... isn’t going to get better, is she?” he asked quietly.

Kiyotaka turned to face him fully. “I can’t promise she will, but I do hope—just like Satoru-sempai hopes—that you don’t give up on her. She deserves that much. And the good part is,” Kiyotaka smiled slightly, “your guardian has resources and a lot of connections. People in the same situation as Tsumiki are managing to hold on, and I believe you should keep holding on too.”

Leaning back, Kiyotaka grabbed a small bag from the front seat.

“Here,” he said, handing the bag to Megumi.

Megumi frowned slightly as he took it. “What is it?”

“Tsumiki-chan mentioned that you like food with ginger in it. I made too much earlier, so I thought I’d share. If you like it, let me know next time.”

Megumi seemed lost for a moment, trying to process the unexpected kindness.

“I—” he began, but Kiyotaka gently cut him off.

“Don’t thank me until you’ve eaten it,” he said firmly, but with a small smile.

That night, Megumi opened the bento box hesitantly. Inside, he found grilled ginger miso salmon, furikake rice, and a cucumber and carrot salad with a boiled egg. By the time he was scraping the last scoop of rice, he realized he’d finished the meal without even noticing.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Goki scribbled furiously on a piece of paper titled in large blocky letters: “THE MANY MISDEMEANORS OF GOJO SATORU.”

Number 3 read, “Terrible Parent.”

Numbers 1 and 2 were, “Terrible Personality,” and “Not Very Bright,” respectively.

Kento stared at Satoru after hearing the umpteenth sigh escape his lips. Satoru lay sprawled across the staff breakroom couch, his ridiculously long limbs draped over the sides like a deflated balloon. Glancing at Shoko, Kento raised an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation.

Shoko only shrugged. “I haven’t seen him like this in over a decade,” she murmured, recalling teenaged Satoru doing the same dramatic routine in her dorm room all those years ago.

As if on cue, Satoru groaned loudly, burying his face into the couch cushions. His ears—still visible—had turned an unmistakable shade of red.

Shoko snorted, stifling a laugh. She moved closer, poking him with a finger. To her surprise, Infinity didn’t block her.

“Who is it this time, Satoru?” she asked, barely holding back her amusement.

“Don’t laugh,” Satoru whined, turning just enough to glare at her half-heartedly. His new glasses—just recently added to his collection—were askew on his face. Kento had to admit, privately, that it was a little cute.

“Wait…” Kento finally spoke up, his disbelief clear. “Gojo… do you have a crush on someone?”

“It’s TERRIBLE! WHAT DO I DO?!” Satoru wailed, dramatically rolling onto his back in one of his signature over-the-top displays.

Shoko cackled. Unable to contain her laughter, she and Kento (reluctantly) joined him on the couch.

“Twenty questions?” Shoko suggested, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Satoru groaned dramatically. “You’ll figure out who he is!”

“Well, there goes my first question!” Shoko said cheerfully.

“I’m done talking,” Satoru muttered darkly.

“That’s impossible for you,” Kento said dryly.

“Is he a coworker?” Shoko pressed.

“...Yes.”

“Oh god, please tell me it’s not Kusakabe,” Shoko blurted, her voice rising with alarm.

Satoru hurled the pillow he’d been clutching at her. “NO!”

“Is he a teacher?” Kento chimed in.

“...No.”

Kento frowned, his mind racing. Not a teacher but a coworker? A horrifying thought crossed his mind, and he scrunched his nose in disgust. Absolutely not. Even Gojo isn’t that crazy. The idea of Satoru dating their former teacher and current principal, Yaga, was too bizarre—no, downright terrifying —to even entertain.

Shoko, noticing Kento’s expression of horror, raised an eyebrow. “Kento, what’s that look for?”

Kento shook his head quickly, trying to rid himself of the mental image. “It’s nothing. Just… I had a terrible thought.”

Satoru perked up, curiosity getting the better of him. “Ooh, now I have to know. What’s this ‘terrible thought,’ Nanami-kum?”

Kento shot him a glare, but Satoru's wide, expectant grin made it clear he wouldn’t drop the subject. Shoko, ever the opportunist when it came to teasing her old friend, leaned in. “C’mon, spill it, Kento. If Satoru’s dying to know, it’s probably worth hearing.”

Kento sighed, deciding to just get it over with. “For a brief second, I thought you might have… some kind of thing for Yaga-sensei.”

There was a moment of silence. Then:

“WHAT?!” Satoru screeched, eyes wide with indignation. “Yaga?! Nanami, I’m hurt. No, I’m insulted! You think I’d go for the guy who made us do push-ups for hours because I didn’t take a test seriously?”

Shoko couldn’t hold back her laughter. “To be fair, Satoru, that does sound like exactly the kind of bad decision you’d make."

"Also it was only you who had to do the push-ups, I was a well-behaved student. ” Nanami added in.

Satoru gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Et tu, Shoko? You two are supposed to be my friends!” He pouted, crossing his arms as though deeply wounded. “I wouldn’t go for Yaga-sensei if he were the last person on earth!”

Kento smirked. “Good. That’s… reassuring.”

Shoko, still giggling, wiped a tear from her eye. “Alright, alright, enough of that. Let’s get back to the mystery man.” She leaned in closer, eyeing Satoru like a detective closing in on a suspect. “So, who is it? If it’s not Yaga, not a teacher, and still a coworker… spill.”

Satoru’s pout shifted into a mischievous grin. “Why should I make this easy for you? You’re enjoying my suffering far too much.” He leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head in mock relaxation.

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Because I’ll bug you until I find out anyway, and we both know you love the attention.”

Kento nodded sagely. “That’s true. You do live for attention, Gojo.”

Shoko narrowed her own eyes at the still-sulking Satoru. He was avoiding their gazes now, beads of sweat forming at the nape of his neck.

“You didn’t,” Shoko said, her voice dripping with accusation.

Satoru still wouldn’t look at her.

“Gojo Minato Satoru!” she snapped. “I told you to leave Ijichi-kun alone!”

“My middle name is not Minato,” Satoru muttered defensively.

“Don’t change the subject! I told you months ago not to go stalking that poor man, and you went ahead and did it anyway!”

“Is it really stalking if he knows?” Satoru offered, as though that somehow made things better.

Kento blinked. “Wait… you’re stalking Ijichi-kun?” he asked, thoroughly confused.

“No! Well… I was at first, but now I’m just... watching,” Satoru replied, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Shoko and Kento stared at him, disbelief written all over their faces.

Shoko was the first to recover, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You owe us both dinner for this. You can explain the rest then.”

Kento nodded in agreement, crossing his arms.

Satoru groaned, “You guys are mooching off my suffering!”

Shoko got up. “I’ll get back to work. Pick a good spot for dinner.”

“I know a good restaurant!” Satoru called out enthusiastically.

“If it’s all sugar, I’ll pass,” Kento said flatly.

“You have such little faith in me,” Satoru pouted.

“No, I know your love for sweets will give us all stomachaches, and I’m not in the mood,” Kento corrected.

Shoko snickered. “See you later,” she called out as she left the room. Satoru still refused to look at her.

Shoko was surprised to see Satoru already at the location AHEAD of time, his tall stature and white hair making him stick out like a sore thumb. He was in the midst of a heated argument with some man who looked more than a little drunk, words slurring and squinting up at Satoru who looked very much unimpressed. Waiting for a host to show her a free table, she strained her ears so she could pick out what Satrou was saying.

"I'm telling you right now Shin-san, if you don't pay your bill and head home before you start throwing up all over the place again, I will actually beat you up this time. Stop causing problems for Aunty." He said with a dark scowl. The man looked properly chastised, head bowed.

Suddenly, she remembered why this place looked familiar; Shoko and Kento went to bars on their very rarely free weekends, enjoying small watering holes and expensive bars and grills alike. That day's location was a nice restaurant, specializing in what they called American-Japanesse fusion and alcohol. Sometimes, Iori would drive down and spend time with them. Other times it was Ino, who she knew was going to be Nanami's future boyfriend (whenever he decides he deserves to be happy), but Ino tends to get gleefully into fights or create chaos with a couple of actions. He was cute, but a little insane like all sorcerers were so Nanami would usually have to end the night early for fear that his apprentice would get into some serious trouble.

The only person that they hadn't invited was Satoru. Not because they didn't want to, but because 1) Satoru had sworn off alcohol over a decade ago, saying it made him anxious to not be fully in control, and 2) he hated places with a lot of people because he got overstimulated. On that particular night, it had just been the two of them, discussing the local gossip that the both of them had gotten ahold of.

So it was astonishing when the bar's doors swung open and there was Satoru because it had to be him. Who else looked the way he did? The Gojo clan might have the same eye and hair colors as he did, but the few they interacted with never gave ethereal the way that Satoru did. Dressed a little too lightly for an early March evening, in an oversized white t-shirt, black jeans, and navy blue suede Aurélien's, he would have fit in in the crowd except well it's Satoru. The most surprising part was that he was not only not wearing sunglasses or his blindfold, but a pair of normal glasses, intricate yes, but normal glasses nonetheless, and also was holding hands with the guy he had entered with, dragging him around as they walked around greeting specific tables.

Just as Satoru was dressed casually, this man also dressed like that, with the difference of him wearing dark colors and dressed for the weather. His outfit was primarily black, with black dress pants, a black sweater with a black haori whose pattern looked like strokes of gold paint flying in the wind to complete the outfit. He had looked familiar, but Shoko couldn't place who he was. She and Kento had continued to observe until Satoru and the unknown had disappeared into the kitchen, and never came back out -before she left anyway.

A girl in a bright blue apron hurried over to Shoko, looking flustered.

"So sorry for the delay! Just you today?" She asked kindly. Shoko shook her head.

"No, I'm with him." She pointed to Satoru. The girl let out a horrified gasp.

"On a date?!" Confused about the reaction, and mildly disgusted, Shoko looked at the girl.

"No way. I've known him since he was a snot-nosed teenager." She scoffed out. The girl let out a giggle and grabbed a menu.

"That's good! I was worried that I'd have to tell my mom, and then she would have to tell everyone else that 'Satoru-sama was cheating." Shoko blinked in surprise.

"I'm pretty sure that Satoru isn't dating anyone." She corrected. The girl shook her head fiercely. "Not yet, but the two of them are meant to be." She said so firmly that Shoko almost believed her. Weaving through the tables, they made their way to a table in the back, Satoru already there, smiling at something on his phone. He looked up when he sensed them approaching, and gave an energetic wave.

"Thank you Aiko-chan for bringing Shoko-chan over! Can I bother you with one more thing?" He asked, giving her puppy dog eyes. Aiko grinned.

"Of course Satoru-sama! What can I do for you?"

"Our other friend is at the front desk, you don't need to guide him over but just point him over here." Aiko saluted and went to grab Kento.

"She's a good kid." Shoko commented.

Satoru beamed, nodding in agreement. “She really is. Always helps out when I come by.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “And how often do you come by? I thought you weren’t a fan of places like this.”

Satoru waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not too bad here. Aunty and her staff take care of me, and besides,” he added with a grin, “the food is pretty damn good.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow as she settled into the chair across from Satoru. “So, where’s this mysterious ‘friend’ from the other night? You know, the one you were dragging around this restaurant like it was your own personal playground.”

Satoru blinked, momentarily thrown off by her question. “Wait... you saw that?”

“Clear as day,” Shoko said with a smirk. “Didn’t think I’d catch you in such a... rare moment.”

"What was a rare moment?" Nanami asked as he slid into the chair next to Shoko.

Shoko raised an eyebrow as she settled into the chair across from Satoru. “Remember when we saw him holding hands with someone the other night?” she said, glancing at Nanami for confirmation.

Nanami nodded. “Yeah, not something you see every day.”

Satoru groaned. “You were there too?”

“We didn’t plan to see it,” Shoko said, her smirk widening. “You were the one out in public, holding hands with someone. It's not like you’re easy to miss, you know?”

Nanami crossed his arms and leaned back. “And you weren’t exactly subtle.”

Satoru groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “You two are unbelievable. I wasn’t trying to be subtle—just didn’t know that you’d both be there to witness it.”

“So who was it?” Shoko pressed, leaning forward on the table. “You’re not exactly the hand-holding type, Satoru."

Nanami leaned in slightly, looking mildly curious.

Satoru sighed, clearly less than impressed by this conversation. “It was Kiyotaka.”

Both Shoko and Nanami stared at Satoru, their jaws nearly dropping in unison.

“Kiyotaka? ” Shoko repeated, blinking rapidly as if trying to process the information. “Wait… that was Ijichi? The guy we saw holding hands with you? In the black and gold Haori?" She asked. Satoru nodded his head.

I didn’t even recognize him!” She exclaimed, leaning back in her chair.

Nanami’s expression remained stoic, but the slight raise of his eyebrows betrayed his surprise. “He looked... different, and more relaxed.”

Satoru shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his earlier confidence melting away. “Yeah, well, he’s not always wearing that stiff uniform, you know. People look different when they’re not working.”

Shoko leaned forward, an incredulous smile spreading across her face. “I just... I didn’t expect that to be Kiyotaka. You two were acting so natural—like it was no big deal.”

“Because it wasn’t a big deal,” Satoru grumbled, his cheeks faintly tinged with pink. “He was walking too slow, and I got impatient. That’s all.”

Nanami tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t usually hold people’s hands when you’re impatient.”

Shoko snickered. “Exactly. I’ve seen you annoyed at people moving slowly before, and let’s just say hand-holding wasn’t your go-to method.”

Satoru’s flustered expression deepened, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, it wasn’t— I mean, I don’t— It’s not like I do that all the time!”

“Uh-huh,” Shoko drawled, her grin widening. “So what makes Ijichi special, hmm? You sure it’s just about impatience?”

“Yes,” Satoru said firmly, though the slight waver in his voice betrayed him. “We’re just... comfortable around each other, that’s all.”

Nanami exchanged a knowing glance with Shoko, then turned his gaze back to Satoru. “Comfortable enough to hold hands in public, apparently.”

Satoru’s eyes darted between the two of them, his ears turning a noticeable shade of red. “It wasn’t like that!” he sputtered. “I just— You’re both reading way too much into this.”

Shoko leaned her chin on her hand, staring at Satoru with amusement. “It’s okay to admit you like him, you know. You did earlier today.”

Satoru flinched, his face flushing even more. “Wh-What? I never said that!”

“You didn’'t offically confirm it; not that you would have needed to,” Nanami pointed out calmly. “It’s pretty obvious.”

Satoru buried his face in his hands, groaning dramatically. “Why are you guys like this?”

“Because we care,” Shoko said, her tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity. “You’re always acting so tough and aloof, but here you are, actually talking to us about something not work-related and something that matters.”

“I don’t—” Satoru started, then cut himself off, clearly flustered. “It’s not... I’m just... Look, he’s important, alright? He’s always been there, doing the hard stuff no one notices, and... I appreciate that. I don’t want him to feel like he’s alone in it.”

Nanami nodded thoughtfully. “So you’re holding his hand to show support?”

Satoru peeked out from behind his fingers, glaring half-heartedly. “Yes. That. Exactly.”

Shoko’s smile softened. “That’s...actually really sweet, Satoru.”

Satoru dropped his hands and leaned back in his chair, groaning again. “Don’t call it sweet. I can’t deal with this.”

Nanami smirked. “Well, it’s nice to know you have a heart after all.”

“Oh, shut up,” Satoru muttered, crossing his arms defensively.

Shoko chuckled, nudging him with her elbow. “So... what’s next? Gonna take him out on a real date?”

Satoru’s eyes widened in panic. “No! I— I mean, no. It’s not like that!”

Nanami raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Satoru hesitated, his earlier bravado crumbling. “I... don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “It’s just... complicated. I don’t know if he even sees me that way.”

Shoko placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her teasing demeanor giving way to genuine concern. “Well, you won’t know unless you try. Ijichi doesn't look like the type to make the first move, but that doesn’t mean he’s not interested.”

Satoru bit his lip, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “What if... what if it ruins everything? I don’t want to make things weird between us.”

Nanami, surprisingly, offered a rare smile. “If anyone can handle ‘weird,’ it’s you, Gojo.”

Satoru blinked at him, then let out a reluctant chuckle. “That’s true, I guess.”

Shoko grinned, patting Satoru on the back. “Just be yourself, as chaotic as that is. Ijichi clearly likes you for who you are, even if you drive the rest of us crazy.”

Satoru’s expression softened, and for the first time during their conversation, he looked less like the cocky sorcerer they were used to and more like someone genuinely unsure of what to do. “Yeah,” he muttered, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe.”

Nanami and Shoko exchanged a look, satisfied with their little heart-to-heart.

“We’ve missed you, you know?” Shoko said suddenly, her voice quieter than before.

Satoru blinked at her, genuinely surprised by the shift in tone. “I was only gone for a couple of days,” he argued, trying to deflect the sudden seriousness.

“That’s not what she means,” Nanami interjected, his gaze steady as he looked Satoru directly in the eyes. “We haven’t had a serious conversation that wasn’t mission or work-related in a long time.”

Satoru’s usual easygoing demeanor faltered. He looked between the two of them, knowing what they were trying to say.

“You pushed us away,” Shoko continued, her tone soft but firm. She reached out and gently took Satoru’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “After what happened with him.”

Satoru exhaled sharply, the name left unsaid hanging between them like a shadow. There was no need to specify who "him" was. Geto Suguru had been their friend—his and Shoko's best friend—but his defection had fractured something deep within Satoru, something that still hadn’t fully healed.

“And while we were all left shocked by what he did, and Nanami had even left,” Shoko continued, her voice steady but tinged with sadness, “Nanami came back. But it felt like we really lost you, Satoru. Like we would never get you back.”

Satoru’s throat tightened, and he stared down at their joined hands, unable to meet their eyes. “I... I didn’t mean to push you guys away,” he said quietly, his usual bravado stripped away. “It wasn’t about you.”

Nanami’s voice was calm, but there was an edge of frustration behind it. “We know it wasn’t about us. But you still shut us out.”

“We couldn’t even touch you because you had Infinity up all the time,” Shoko stressed, her frustration clear as she met Satoru’s eyes. “That’s why we were so surprised when we saw you holding someone the other night.”

She hesitated for a moment, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “I have to admit,” she added, almost sheepishly, “I was a little jealous that it wasn’t me... or even Nanami.”

Nanami inclined his head, acknowledging her words, but remained silent, his calm gaze never leaving Satoru.

Satoru blinked, momentarily stunned by Shoko’s admission. It wasn’t often that she showed any vulnerability, preferring to be indifferent, so hearing her say she felt left out—even in a teasing way—caught him off guard. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first, still processing the weight of what they were both saying.

“You were... jealous?” Satoru finally asked, his voice a little quieter than usual.

Shoko nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. “Well, yeah. We’ve known you forever, and for the longest time, no one could even get close. Not physically, not emotionally. So, seeing you like that... it was kind of a shock.”

Nanami, ever the composed one, added, “It wasn’t just about the physical touch, Gojo. You’ve had your walls up for a long time, not just Infinity. Seeing you let someone in like that, it was... surprising.”

Satoru’s face flushed, caught between embarrassment and something softer, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

He swallowed hard, a part of him wanting to joke it off like he usually did, but he knew that wasn't the right way to go about this discussion. He hadn’t talked about this ever-hadn’t wanted to. He had always thought that carrying it alone was easier, that it was his burden to bear. But seeing the concern in Shoko and Nanami’s eyes made him realize just how much he had isolated himself.

“I didn’t know how to deal with it,” Satoru admitted after a long pause. “Losing him... it felt like it happened so fast, like and slipping through my fingers...the way everything went down...he looked right at me before he left," He whispered, "and suddenly it was like I was looking at a whole other person. It felt like if I let myself feel anything, I’d fall apart So, I just... didn’t. I kept going because I had to...But I didn’t know how to let you guys in after that.”

Shoko’s grip on his hand tightened, and her gaze softened. “We’re your friends, Satoru. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. Not then, and not now.”

Satoru finally looked up, meeting their eyes, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the walls he’d built around himself begin to crack. “I thought I was protecting you... from all of it.”

“You don’t have to protect us from you,” Nanami said firmly, his expression serious but understanding. “We’re here because we care. And because we want to be here, through everything. You’re not the only one who lost someone that day.”

Satoru’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded, guilt and relief warring within him. “I know... I know that now,” he whispered. “But it’s hard. It’s still hard.”

Shoko gave him a sad smile. “It wasn't fair what you did, but because we love you, we forgive you. It doesn’t have to be hard. Uncomfortable yes, but hard? Not if you let us help.”

Satoru took a deep breath, the weight of their words sinking in. He had spent so long trying to be invincible, to keep everyone at arm’s length, that he hadn’t realized just how much he missed having his friends close. He thought back to Kiyotaka, Ken, Daisuke, and Kazuko and how easy it had been to let his guard down around them. He could allow himself to have his own support group right? Maybe... maybe he didn’t have to carry everything alone after all.

“I’ll try,” Satoru said quietly, his voice raw but genuine. “I’ll try to let you guys in more.”

Shoko smiled softly and leaned back, satisfied with his response. “That’s all we ask.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, his expression softening. “We’re not going anywhere, Satoru. You should know that by now.” For once calling him by his given name.

Satoru chuckled softly, though his eyes were still misty. “Yeah... I guess I do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. It was filled with a sense of understanding, of shared grief and friendship that had endured despite everything. And for the first time in a long time, Satoru allowed himself to feel it, to be with them, instead of pushing them away.

They had dinner together, not as sorcerers or coworkers, but as friends who had been through hell and back—and were still standing.

As the night went on, Satoru found himself smiling more easily, the tension in his chest loosening bit by bit because things really weren't as complicated as he’d always made them out to be in his head. Shoko had cheerfully offered Nanami on a silver platter, exposing his budding romance with his apprentice. "He literally just turned twenty." Nanami had grumbled even though his face was flushed pink. Satoru looked at him with eyes filled with glee.

"Sounds like something is happening soon~" Satoru teased, his voice laced with exaggerated excitement as he leaned toward Nanami, eyes gleaming mischievously. Nanami rolled his eyes. 

"Maybe." Was all he said, and stayed tight lipped.

Deciding to switch topics, Shoko leaned in again, eyes gleaming with mischief, as the atmosphere lightened once more. “So, back to Ijichi. You never answered—what do you like about him?”

Satoru blinked, clearly flustered. “I... what?”

Nanami gave him a patient look. “It’s a simple question. What do you like about him?” Satoru shot him a dirty look. 

Opening his mouth,  he closed it, and then thought for a second before answering. “Well, he’s dependable, always handles things without complaining. He’s smart, really organized, and... he’s kind, in his own way. He’s quiet but notices everything. He doesn’t make a big deal out of things, even when he should.” Satoru was starting to sound more animated as he spoke, his eyes shining with genuine admiration.

“And,” he added, with breathless excitement that surprised even him, “he could probably kill me if he tried.”

Shoko and Nanami froze, exchanging bewildered glances. “Excuse me?” Shoko asked, her eyebrow raised in disbelief.

Nanami, looking equally confused, asked, “Ijichi Kiyotaka? The auxiliary manager?”

Satoru, still grinning, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! You’d be surprised what he’s capable of. He’s got potential.”

Shoko blinked, utterly baffled. “But... Satoru, you’re the strongest sorcerer alive. How exactly do you think an auxiliary manager could kill you?”

Satoru shrugged, the grin still on his face. “I just know. Get this right, he hit me with a pencil, even though I had Infinity up!”

Nanami rubbed his temples, clearly trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “That-you're unbelievable.”

Shoko, fighting back a laugh, sighed. “Only you, Satoru. Only you would list ‘could kill me’ as an attractive quality.”

Satoru crossed his arms, looking smug. “Hey, it keeps things interesting.”

Shoko and Nanami shared an exasperated look, before finally bursting into laughter. It was moments like this—Satoru’s unique brand of chaotic behavior—that reminded them, despite everything, why they were still friends with him.

“Well, at least you’re consistent,” Shoko said between giggles, shaking her head.

Nanami just sighed, but there was a small smile on his face as he leaned back. “I will have to see it to believe it."

The large auditorium buzzed with the excited hum of families and friends, all eagerly awaiting the moment their loved ones would walk across the stage. The sound of footsteps echoed across the wooden floor as the graduates lined up, robes fluttering as they approached the stage. The anticipation in the air was palpable.

“Next up: Matsumoto, Ken,” the announcer called out over the microphone.

From the seats near the front, a small but boisterous group erupted into cheers.

Ken glanced over, and there they were, his ever-reliable family members. Daisuke and Satoru's cheering was the most prominent, and while Kazuko and Kiyotaka were cheering a little quieter, they were just as happy as the former two. Ken threw his head back with a laugh.

When Ken descended the stage steps, he eagerly went to where the others were, practically bouncing as he walked.

"If it isn't today's main character himself," Satoru drawled. Ken struck a dramatic pose, flexing and dramatically showing his diploma. Naturally, as a group of equally dramatic group, everyone gave the appropriate response with Ooing and Ahhing instantly leaving their collective mouths.

As the playful banter settled, Ken grinned wide, feeling light-hearted and accomplished as he waved his diploma in the air. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Daisuke’s expression.

Daisuke, stood a few steps back, his smile wide but his eyes glistening. There was something deeper behind that usual warmth—pride, certainly, but also a quiet intensity Ken wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“Ken,” Daisuke began, his voice softer than usual, slightly shaky with emotion, “I’m really, really proud of you.”

Ken’s grin softened into a gentle smile. He wasn’t used to seeing Daisuke, the man who had always been the pillar of strength and humor in their family, poorly disguised under grouchiness and one too many bottles of sake look so emotional.

Daisuke took a step closer, his hand moving to gently rest on Ken’s shoulder. “You’ve worked so hard for this,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion now. His eyes blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “And I... I just can’t tell you how proud I am. You’ve grown into such a remarkable man.”

Ken felt a lump forming in his own throat. His usually upbeat and playful grandfather, now struggling to hold back tears, made Ken realize just how important this moment was for him too.

“Grandpa…” Ken began, his voice catching in his throat. But before he could finish, Daisuke pulled him into a strong, heartfelt embrace, one that said more than words ever could.

“I’m so proud of you,” Daisuke whispered as he hugged Ken tightly, his voice barely audible through the emotion.

Ken hugged him back just as firmly, blinking away his own tears. “Thanks, Gramps. It means the world to me.”

Daisuke pulled back slightly, sniffling with a laugh. “Alright, alright,” he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m done with the tears. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry today.”

Ken chuckled, his heart warm and full. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. I won’t tell anyone.”

Satoru’s voice chimed in with a teasing tone, “Oh, I don’t know, I might’ve captured that whole thing on video. Just for memory’s sake.”

Kazuko smacked Satoru lightly on the arm, giving him a scolding look even though her own eyes were misty. “Satoru, let them have their moment.”

Kiyotaka stood nearby, smiling warmly at Ken, offering a small but sincere nod. “You’ve done well, Ken.”

Ken glanced around at them all, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for his family. These were the people who believed in him every step of the way, and seeing the pride on their faces made this moment all the more special.

Daisuke cleared his throat and straightened up. “Enough of this emotional stuff, eh? Let’s go celebrate! You’re a graduate now, and I’m not holding back when it comes to lunch.”

Ken laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable, Grandpa.”

Daisuke winked, throwing an arm around Ken’s shoulders. “And you love me for it.”

As the group moved toward the exit, the significance of the day’s events still lingered in the air, but with the promise of celebration and happiness ahead. Ken glanced around at his family once more, his heart swelling with gratitude. This day would be one he’d never forget, not just for the diploma in his hand, but for the love and pride that surrounded him.

Nanami discreetly surveyed the room, waiting for the staff meeting to begin. Today’s meeting had been pushed back by an hour, a rare accommodation arranged months in advance by Ijichi and seconded by Gojo last month. Gojo had mentioned something about graduation he couldn’t miss, hinting that he had a couple of friends he wanted to introduce to Nanami and Shoko, though the exact date had remained unclear—apparently, due to the timing of the graduation.

Glancing at his watch, Nanami noted they had exactly four minutes before they were officially late.

“The nerve to request a delay and still not show up,” one of the attendees grumbled. Nanami recognized the speaker as Nara-san—Satoru’s current least favorite person on the planet. Satoru had vented about him before, calling him “the laziest man alive,” ranting for a solid five minutes about how Kiyotaka did all the work while Nara received all the praise. “And what’s worse,” Gojo had fumed, “he criticizes the most trivial things! ‘The font was half a point too small’? Fix it yourself then!” Despite being far more rational than Gojo, Nanami had to admit that something about Nara rubbed him the wrong way too.

“There are still four minutes left, Nara-san,” Akari Nitta interjected, frowning deeply at Nara’s outburst. Nara shot her a heated glare but slouched back in his chair without responding.

The minutes ticked by, and some of the attendees began to engage in casual conversation. Just as the clock struck 2:00, the door to the meeting room swung open, and Satoru strolled in, looking as smug as ever. He wasn’t dressed in his usual uniform or blindfold, but in black hakama pants, a well-fitted short-sleeved shirt, and a light jacket casually tossed over his shoulder. His eyes gleamed with his usual mischief.

Kiyotaka followed closely behind, arms full of papers. His appearance, though only subtly different, immediately caught attention. He wore dress pants and a button-down shirt, but the absence of his usual jacket and his confident posture gave him an air of self-assurance not often seen. This wasn’t the usual Kiyotaka who flinched at sudden noises—this was someone who carried himself like an accomplished professional.

“See, I told you we’d make it on time!” Satoru quipped to Kiyotaka, throwing a smug grin over his shoulder.

Kiyotaka rolled his eyes but with a look of fond exasperation. “I had to drag you away from ordering another slice of cake, Senpai.”

He turned to the room, greeting each person politely as he handed out neatly stapled stacks of papers. Meanwhile, Satoru slid into the seat Nanami and Shoko had saved for him between them, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“I see what you meant,” Shoko whispered to Satoru, her gaze trailing over Kiyotaka, who was still passing out the papers. There was a faint note of appreciation in her voice.

Nanami arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips.

“No. Stop looking,” Satoru grumbled, scowling in Shoko’s direction.

Shoko smirked teasingly. “Oh, come on. You get to see him like this all the time.”

Satoru shot her a look, his face purposely indifferent as he said,

“Well, he wears the clothes well,” Shoko hummed, still eyeing Kiyotaka with a sly grin, before having a look of confusion.

"Wait a second," She murmured. "Satoru. Satoru are those tattoos on Ijichi's arms?" She asked. Now that Kiyotaka had passed out most of the papers, he was now holding the last handful on his right arm, giving a clear view of the patterns decorating his arm.

"Oh yeah, I forgot he rolled up his sleeves earlier." Satoru said with a shrug. Nanami and Shoko gave him a look of disbelief.

"What? He's had those for ages!" Satoru argued acting as though not a couple of months ago he had not been caught by Goki because he had spent too long looking at those very markings.

Shooko opened her mouth to retort, but just then, Yaga cleared his throat from the front of the room, signaling the beginning of the meeting. Shoko's comment was left unspoken as the room fell silent, and the meeting finally began.

Nanami had just finished his afternoon report when his phone buzzed, vibrating quietly against the surface of his desk. He glanced at the screen and saw Shoko’s name displayed. He answered immediately.

“Nanami,”

Shoko’s voice came through, calm yet tinged with an underlying seriousness, “Ino Takuma’s in the hospital ward. He was brought in with injuries sustained during a mission. They’re non-life-threatening but… significant. Broken ribs, a punctured lung, and severe bruising across his torso and abdomen. He’s stable now, but the recovery will take time.”

Nanami’s grip on his phone tightened and he struggled for a moment to say anything. “How did it happen?” His voice was steady, but inside, tension coiled like a spring.

“There’s some confusion about the mission itself. Ijichi's here now and he saying he didn’t approve it, so it seems Nara-san gave the go-ahead. Takuma-kun's driver is here too, but he’s less injured—just a fractured arm and some minor lacerations. You might want to speak to him, Nanami.”

Shoko’s tone softened slightly, sensing his frustration. “I know you’ll want to see him. He’s stable for now, but the sooner you come, the better.”

Nanami closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I’ll be there in ten.”

The call ended, and Nanami forced himself to release a couple of deep breaths.

'He's fine.' He repeated to himself a couple of times before getting up to go to the ward.

Nanami got to witness the "could kill someone" Kiyotaka that Satoru had insisted existed far sooner than he, unfortunately, thought as he sat beside him in the hospital ward a couple of days after the staff meeting and exactly ten minutes after his call with Shoko. When he arrived, just as Shoko said, Kiyotaka was already there, sitting on one of the chairs available.

His usually calm and professional demeanor had transformed into something sharper, colder. There was an edge to his presence that Nanami hadn’t seen before. His laptop sat open on the small tray in front of him, a flurry of notes being typed out as Kiyotaka quietly but efficiently questioned the driver who had been with Ino during the mission.

The driver, a young man named Takeda Haruto, had short, cropped black hair and a stocky build. His left arm was wrapped in heavy bandages from wrist to elbow, and gauze patches covered his right cheek and part of his forehead, hinting at the lacerations Shoko had mentioned. He looked nervous, his eyes shifting between Kiyotaka and Nanami, unsure of what to expect.

Kiyotaka’s voice was cool and precise as he spoke, the cold anger beneath his words barely masked. “Takeda-san, walk me through the events again. From the beginning.”

Takeda shifted in his chair, wincing slightly as he adjusted his arm. “It started with Nara-san. He came to me with Ino-san and said that there was a mission which was time-sensitive. When Ino-san asked if Nanami-san had been made aware of him taking this mission, Nara-san said something that seemed to reassure him. Ino-san didn’t ask any more questions after that.”

Nanami and Kiyotaka exchanged a brief glance, both nodding in unison. It wasn’t unusual for Ino, as an almost first-grade sorcerer, to be assigned missions without Nanami’s prior approval, especially if the curse wasn’t higher than grade two. But something still felt off.

Takeda hesitated before continuing. “There was one thing that stood out to me, though. Nara-san insisted that the pre-mission report was written by Ijichi-san.”

Kiyotaka froze, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. His breath hitched slightly before he drew in a sharp inhale, eyes narrowing. “Did you think it was me?” His voice was low, but his tone was still calm.

Takeda quickly shook his head, scoffing as if the idea was ridiculous. “Of course not! I’ve worked with you for years, Ijichi-san. Even when you were a rookie, you never wrote such a small pre-mission report. The one Nara-san gave us was sloppy. I knew it wasn’t your work.”

Kiyotaka exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, though the tension in the room remained thick. “Good,” he muttered, resuming his notes. "What happened next?"

Again, Takeda shifted slightly. “The curse extermination went fine as usual, but as I released the veil, we found ourselves surrounded by a bunch of Curse Users.” He sighed, running his good hand through his hair. “I got hit with a cursed technique of some sort almost instantly and went down. I ended up crawling to the car and was calling Akari-san for backup when I noticed one of the Curse Users was about to get the jump on Ino-san... I kind of did something that was against the rules.”

He looked at the both of them sheepishly. Kiyotaka stared at him blankly for a moment, before a twinkle of delight broke through the frosty exterior he’d been maintaining. “You didn’t.”

Takeda grinned ruffly, “I did.”

Nanami looked between the two of them, utterly confused. “What did he do?”

Kiyotaka rubbed the back of his neck, grinning. “I’ve recently been learning to make seals, so for Christmas, I made all of my team a shielding seal. It doesn’t work on everything, but if you're on the ground, even an attack from the ground won't affect you. It isn't perfect, but it held against Satoru-sempai’s Blue and Red. So, I figured it was good enough to give out.”

Both Takeda and Nanami’s mouths dropped.

“Holy shit!” Takeda gasped. “It worked on two of the most powerful attacks in all of cursed history?! And you gave it to us for free?!”

Kiyotaka met Takeda’s eyes, his expression suddenly serious and filled with sincerity. “Your health and safety during work hours is my responsibility. If I can make and give you something that helps ensure that, a couple of hours of unpaid work seems like an excellent trade-off.”

Takeda sighed, shaking his head. “Why couldn’t you be our official boss?” he grumbled. “Ours just tried to possibly have us killed.” His eyes widened suddenly, and he clasped his one good hand over his mouth.

Nanami’s stare sharpened. “Is that what you think really happened?”

Before Takeda could respond, Kiyotaka shook his head quickly. “That’s just the painkillers Ieri-san put him on,” he said sharply, cutting off any further speculation. “I’ll look into this further,” he assured Takeda, his tone softening slightly. “You’re free to go.”

Takeda nodded gratefully before rising from his chair, bowing slightly to both men before leaving the room.

Once the door closed, Nanami leaned back, his brows furrowed in thought. “Something doesn’t add up, Ijichi.”

"What Takeda-san just implied must not leave this room, Nanami-san," Kiyotaka said sharply, his demeanor shifting back to calculated anger. His voice was low, but there was an intensity behind it. "If Nara finds out someone is on to him, he might hide the evidence."

Nanami swallowed heavily, the weight of Kiyotaka's words sinking in. Suddenly, he felt like he was 16 again—helpless, just like back then. Only this time, at least the person on the hospital bed was breathing. The flash of that old feeling made him clench his fists slightly.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Nanami-san,” Kiyotaka added, his tone softening as he noticed the tension in Nanami. “Just focus on making sure Ino-san gets better. That’s what matters most right now.”

"Kento," Nanami said suddenly, his voice catching the younger man off guard. Kiyotaka blinked, a familiar sense of déjà vu washing over him, Kiyotaka's mind flashed back to that moment in the car with Satoru just a couple of weeks ago. Naturally, he responded just as he did that day.

"What?" Kiyotaka asked, his voice tinged with confusion, wondering what was coming next.

Nanami's expression softened, gratitude and respect clear in his eyes. "It might not have been your intention, but you did just save my partner’s life."

Kiyotaka froze for a moment, his usual composure slipping as the weight of Nanami’s words hit him. He wasn’t used to being thanked—at least, not for something as serious as saving a life. His throat tightened slightly, but he managed to keep his voice steady as he responded, “I was just doing my job.”

But the sincerity in Nanami's eyes lingered, and Kiyotaka couldn't help but feel the gravity of what he'd done, even if he tried to brush it off.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod to Nanami, his usual reserved demeanor returning, though his heart carried the weight of the moment. "I’m glad it helped," he finally said, his voice quiet but genuine.

Nanami's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he, too, nodded. "It did," he replied softly. "More than you realize."

On the outside and even in the dining area, the restaurant run by the woman Satoru affectionately called "Aunty" looked normal. The cuisine? Interesting. The drink options? Exquisite. But as noted by Shoko unconsciously all those weeks ago, when you pushed back the curtain separating the dining area from the kitchen, you would be surprised to find that the building is much bigger than it looks; there was still a kitchen, but if you took a left into a dark hallway and opened the only door in it, you would find yourself in a gigantic computer lab. Here, was the Hoshikage's resource hub. Haruka Watanabe nee Hoshikage was a brilliant chef and recognized that unlike back in the clan grounds in which everyone stuck together, shortly after some of them had left to explore the world, they struggled to find a place to come back home to now that the clan had been locked down. So, in a way eerily reminiscent of Hana-san, she decided, 'I'm going to open a resturant, and my clan members will come because they get to eat for free.' And somehow it worked.

Kiyotaka strode into the back of the kitchen with purpose.

"Aunty." He said in greeting, tightness in his face. She turned to look at him, the joke that was about to fall out of the tip of her tongue suddenly stopping.

"You looked stressed." She instead commented, wiping dry her hands. Kiyotaka released an angry huff of air.

"Someone hurt one of mine." He said in response. She looked at him sharply, alarmed worried if it was one of the kids she had gotten used to seeing or Daisuke.

"They're a person that works under me." He corrected. Mostly relieved, she went back to work preparing for the opening in a couple hours.

"I supposed they will learn to leave your people alone today. You know where to find Hiroshi." She handed him a plate of fruit. "Don't go plotting revenge on an empty stomach, innocents might get hurt." She advised.

Hiroshi and Kiyotaka physically looked like polar opposites. While Kiyotaka was tall and lean, Hiroshi was short and stout.

"My parents named me wishing for abundance for me. I got that, but also the name is probably why I have broad shoulders." He had said the first time they met. He was also a mess, and Kiyotaka had no doubt that his room was a pigsty. Nonetheless, the both of them were usually on the same wavelength, much to the horror of Satoru, and his younger sister Aiko, even if their personalities were also very different.

Kiyotaka pulled his chair to the side of the glowing computer monitor in front of Hiroshi in the dark computer lab. Hunched over and typing with speed that Kiyotaka wished he had, Hiroshi asked,

"What can I do for you?" He typed one more line of code and turned to look at his future clan head.

"What do you have on Nara Shinji?" He asked curtly.

"Your boss?" Hiroshi asked, amused, as he continued typing.

Kiyotaka scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Please. Nara-san might technically have a higher position, but he’s a glorified paper-pusher. He doesn’t do anything except take credit for other people’s work and complain about pointless things like font sizes.” Kiyotaka's voice dripped with disdain. “Half the time, he doesn’t even know what’s going on. I wouldn’t call that a ‘boss.’”

Hiroshi chuckled. “Sounds like a real stand-up guy.”

Kiyotaka sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned back slightly. “The problem is, the mission he assigned to Takeda-san and Ino-san. It was supposed to be just a quick curse, but they ran into a bunch of curse users. Takeda got hit almost immediately, and then they focused on Ino. It doesn’t make sense. Something’s not adding up.”

Hiroshi raised an eyebrow, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “And yet you're coming for Nara-san today because?”

Kiyotaka’s eyes narrowed, his frustration barely contained. “He’s not a higher-up, but he’s well-liked by them. Too well-liked. Something doesn’t feel right about what happened with Ino-san and Takeda-san, and I can’t shake the feeling that Nara-san’s involved.”

Hiroshi smirked, typing away as he brought up files and records. “You think he’s getting cozy with the higher-ups to cover his tracks?”

Kiyotaka clenched his fists, leaning forward. “That’s exactly what I think. His reports and his behavior leave a lot to be desired. And yet if you look at his record—everything’s too clean. There’s no way he’s this spotless without hiding something. We just need to figure out what.”

Hiroshi leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms before cracking his knuckles. “I get it, but you know how these things go. People like Nara-san... they’re slippery. They know how to play the game and keep the right people happy.”

Kiyotaka exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders building. “I know that. But I can’t sit back while Ino-san’s lying in a hospital bed because of this, and Takeda-san, who works directly under me got hurt. We need something. Anything.”

Hiroshi shrugged and turned back to the screen. “Let me dig around. But don’t expect to find anything obvious. He’s smart—probably too smart for us to catch him in a basic search.”

Kiyotaka watched as Hiroshi’s fingers flew over the keys, the glow of the computer monitor casting shadows on their faces. His patience thinned with each passing moment. He hated this feeling of being on the edge, knowing something was wrong but not being able to put his finger on it.

After a few more minutes, Hiroshi’s fingers stilled. He frowned, his gaze lingering on something on the screen before turning to Kiyotaka. “You ever consider that maybe the target wasn’t Takeda-san, but Ino-san?”

Kiyotaka blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Hiroshi continued, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “You said the curse users kept attacking Ino-san, right? Even after Takeda was down. What if Nara-san’s play wasn’t to get rid of your guy? What if he was aiming for Ino the whole time?”

Kiyotaka’s eyes narrowed, the gears in his mind clicking into place. “If Ino-san was the real target...”

“Then this is way more personal than just a job gone wrong,” Hiroshi said, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Ino’s almost a first-grade sorcerer, right? Maybe Nara or someone in his corner thought it was time for Ino to be taken out of the picture.”

Kiyotaka felt his stomach tighten. “But why? What does Nara-san gain by going after Ino?”

Hiroshi resumed typing, pulling up more logs and records. “Could be a lot of reasons. Maybe Ino knows something he shouldn’t. Or maybe he’s just in the way of someone else’s plan. Either way, it doesn’t look good.”

Kiyotaka’s frustration simmered, but now there was a cold, calculated edge to it. “We need to find out more. If Nara’s behind this, we can’t let him slip through the cracks.”

Hiroshi nodded. “I’ll keep digging. But just know—Nara’s no fool. He’s got friends in high places, and if he’s covering his tracks, it won’t be easy to pin this on him.”

Kiyotaka exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest settling into something more determined. “I don’t care how clean he looks. There’s something here, and we’re going to find it.”

Hiroshi glanced at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

Kiyotaka managed a small smile despite the tension. “It’s personal now.”

As Hiroshi continued searching for anything suspicious in Nara-san’s records, Kiyotaka’s mind raced, connecting the dots. If Ino had been the target, then this might not have been just a botched mission—it could have been something deeper and more dangerous.

It's 3 AM when Kiyotaka's phone starts ringing.

"Hello?" Kiyotaka said voice groggy with sleep.

"Ok promise not to get mad with me?" Hiroshi said over the phone. Kiyotaka blinked slowly and checked the time. 

"Wha- Hiroshi it's literally 3 in the morning."

"Yeah, I know, but I just did something really illegal, so I figure I'd let you know." Kiyotaka let out a deep sigh.

"Why would you say that over the phone." He demanded. "What if someone listens in." Hiroshi scoffed.

"First of all the Hoshikage are a sovereign state. Someone doing that is basically an act of war. Also, I already made that impossible the very day we met, so don't get your underwear all bunched up." Beside Kiyotaka, much to his exasperation was Satoru, who for some reason had started sleeping over semi-regularly in his apartment...on his bed. As per usual, boundaries mean nothing to this man.

"Is that Hiroshi I hear?" Satoru asked sleepily after he let out a snort.

"HOLY SHIT WHY IS GOJO SATORU WITH YOU AT 3 AM?!"

"Hiroshi I will hang up on you." Kiyotaka said seriously.

"Ok, but like this is booty call hours." Satoru started snickering.

"Hiroshi, focus." Kiyotaka stressed. He detangled himself from Satoru who gave him an exaggerated pout.

"Wait, I want to here what he's calling you for!" He whined.

"No," Kiyotaka responded. "You have a mission in a couple of hours." Satoru huffed but stayed in bed as Kiyotaka got up and made his way out of the bedroom and to the couch where he sat down.

"Alright, Hiroshi, what did you find out?"

"So I hacked this guy's bank account, phone, and laptop right?"

"You did what?"

"That's not important right now dude." Kiyotaka blinked slowly in disbelief.

"Anyways," Hiroshi continued. "This guy gets crazy sums of money dumped at random intervals. Like we're talking enough to pay off someone's student loans, buy a house, pay it off, and buy a fancy forigen car and still have money left over."

"He's probably connected to some unsavory people." Kiyotaka muttered.

"That isn't even half of it. As I was digging through his texts, he got the most insane phone call ever." Kiyotaka rubbed his face.

"Please get to the point Hiroshi." He begged.

"Fine, fine. Don't know why no one likes my story telling ablities." He grumbled in response.

"Turns out I was right, Ino-san was the target, your boi was just, unfortunately, a casualty." Kiyotaka sat straighter.

"And you know this how?"

"There's some crazy girl who is in love with Nanami-san and asked her dad to get rid of her alleged competition."

"Wh- what??" Kiyotaka couldn't help but cry out.

"Two people almost died because of a crush?!" He couldn't believe this.

"Yeah, and since Nara didn't finish the job, they are refusing to pay him the full amount they agreed on." Kiyotaka muffly screamed into his hands. Calming down,

"I don't care how you do it, get me something concrete so we can get them both arrested."

"I'll call a guy I know from the tax collections office; I don't think I can get them for anything else." He confessed.

"These two clearly can pay of the fine that investigation would cause." Kiyotaka argued.

"Unfortunately, remember how we talked about how Nara is protected by a higher up? The dad of the girl is one."

"...who is it?"

"Zenin Ren."

"..."

"Hello?"

"Oh my god." Kiyotaka whispered in disbelief. What was actually wrong with the Zenin clan?

"What do we do?" He said aloud, talking to himself.

"Well, Ren is an elder in the Zenin clan," came Satoru's voice, startling Kiyotaka.

Kiyotaka turned to look at him in disbelief. “I thought you went back to sleep.”

Satoru yawned and stretched lazily, rubbing his eyes. "The bed was cold," he muttered as if that explained his sudden presence. Without waiting for an invitation, he plopped himself down on the couch next to Kiyotaka, still half-draped in a blanket. “Plus, you were having a conversation too interesting to miss.”

Kiyotaka gave him an exasperated look. "You're supposed to be resting. You’ve got a mission in a couple of hours."

Satoru waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll nap later. This is more important.” He leaned back and grinned. “So, what are we gonna do about this Zenin mess?”

On the speaker, Hiroshi’s voice piped up. “Wait, is Gojo-sama officially in this call?”

"Yes, Hiroshi," Kiyotaka said with a sigh, trying to stay on task. “Focus. What do we do about Nara?”

Satoru tilted his head thoughtfully, a mischievous glint forming in his eye. "Well, what if we make both Nara and Ren into pariahs?”

Kiyotaka frowned. “What do you mean?”

Satoru’s grin widened. “Easy. We expose Nara's dirty little secrets and make sure Ren’s reputation gets tied up with it. We make them both untouchable, even to Ren's own clan. We have to play dirty if they're already fighting that way.”

Kiyotaka’s eyes widened. “But we can’t just—”

“We can, and we should,” Satoru interrupted, his voice serious for once. “These people tried to have someone killed. You can’t just sit on that information and hope justice magically happens. If they’re willing to play dirty, we don’t have the luxury of staying clean.”

Kiyotaka opened his mouth to argue, but Satoru gave him a pointed look. “Think about it, Kiyotaka. You’ve been too nice for too long. They see it as weakness, and now that your boss clearly can't be trusted, for the safety of those who work in your department, you have to get rid of Nara. The only way to win against people like Nara and Ren is to hit them where it hurts—strip them of their power.”

Hiroshi, who had been quietly listening, cleared his throat. “Gojo-sama’s got a point, man. We can replace Ren with someone more manageable—like Itsuki.”

Kiyotaka looked conflicted. His hands clenched into fists, and he exhaled slowly, his mind racing. “Itsuki is loyal, but she’s not powerful enough to stand up to someone like Ren.”

Satoru leaned forward, his voice calm but firm. “Then we make her powerful. The Matsumoto name holds weight. You already gave her a fan, and you’ve secured her loyalty. Make her the broker to all of the translations between the Zenin clan and Matsumoto if not the entire Hoshikage Clan. We make her powerful enough that the rest of the Zenins can’t touch her. The Zenin clan is ruthless, but hasn't everyone been telling you? The Hoshikage clan demands respect. They literally closed their doors to people for decades, and once it's known that they are back in action, everyone is going to be scrambling for their attention.”

Kiyotaka frowned again, unsure. “But she’s still a Zenin. How do we ensure her loyalty if we move her into such a powerful position?”

You’ve already built a bridge with Itsuki by supporting her career. She’s smart, and she owes you. If you make her the broker between all the Zenins and the Hoshikage, she’ll have the leverage she needs to keep the others in check, and will always know that it is because of you that she is where she is.”

Kiyotaka opened his mouth to protest, but Satoru cut him off with a sharp look. “Listen, Kiyotaka, this isn’t just about brute strength. It’s about control. Itsuki can navigate the Zenin clan politics, and she’s already shown she’s not like the rest of them. Backing her gives her enough power within the family to resist Ren and others like him. I.”

Hiroshi, still on speaker, added, “He’s right. If Itsuki becomes a key player between the Zenins and the Hoshikage, they’ll think twice before messing with her. She’ll have enough influence to protect herself—and to help you take down Ren and Nara. Plus, if one of the twins wants to hold any position of power in the Zenin clan, you have created them a really strong ally.”

Kiyotaka took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. Satoru’s argument made sense. Itsuki had potential, and more importantly, she wasn’t loyal to Ren or the other Zenin elders. If they positioned her correctly, she could shift the balance of power in their favor. Ituski cares for the children of that ridiculous clan, and while she is just one person, the twins are two people so if they decided they wanted to do something within the Zenin clan, that was three people in the Zenin clan on the Hoshikage Clan's side.

“Alright,” Kiyotaka said finally, his voice steadying as he reached a decision. “We’ll go with your plan.”

Satoru’s grin returned, satisfied. “Good. Now let’s make sure Ren and Nara regret ever crossing us.”

Hiroshi chuckled over the phone, the sound of his fingers still clacking on the keyboard. “I’ll get to work on digging up more on Ren’s connections. We’re gonna need every scrap of dirt if we’re going to play this right.”

Kiyotaka leaned back on the couch, the weight of the decision still heavy but less suffocating now. He nodded to himself, resolve hardening.

Kiyotaka stormed into Nara's office, the door crashing against the wall with a thunderous bang. His heart was pounding, but it wasn’t from fear. Inside, he was practically humming with exhilaration. The weight of the papers in his hand—evidence that sealed Nara's fate—felt heavy, but oh, so satisfying. After weeks of painstaking work, he finally had enough to bring this bastard down.

Nara looked up from his desk, irritation flashing across his face. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he barked, but Kiyotaka's only response was an ice-cold smile, his eyes gleaming with barely restrained fury.

Without a word, Kiyotaka slammed the stack of papers onto Nara's desk, the impact making the pens and papers scatter. The loud thud reverberated through the room, echoing the finality of what was about to happen.

Nara rose from his chair, eyes narrowing in confusion and anger. "What the fuck is this?" he demanded.

Kiyotaka’s laugh cut through the air—sharp, humorless, and seething with rage. He leaned forward, his voice low but vibrating with power. "Taking out the trash."

For the first time, Nara’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. He grabbed the first page from the stack and scanned it quickly. His face blanched, and the blood drained from his cheeks. Kiyotaka reveled in the sight, his rage curling into something more sinister, more dangerous.

"You... you can’t prove this!" Nara stammered, panic creeping into his voice. He slammed the papers back down, but his hands were trembling.

Kiyotaka leaned back, crossing his arms, a wolfish grin spreading across his face, all teeth. "Is that your final answer?" His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but the threat in it was unmistakable.

Nara’s composure shattered. He surged forward, his face twisted in a grotesque snarl. "You bastard! I should’ve gotten rid of you when I had the chance!"

Kiyotaka didn’t flinch. His eyes gleamed with a quiet, deadly satisfaction. "Too late for that."

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the doorway, calm but authoritative. "You’ll find the government disagrees with you."

Both men turned to see an officer step into the room, his polished uniform gleaming under the fluorescent lights. The man moved with the deliberate confidence of someone who knew he held all the power in the room. Kiyotaka stepped aside, allowing the officer to move forward.

"Nara Shinji," the officer said coldly, pulling out a pair of handcuffs with a practiced flick of his wrist. "You are hereby under arrest for corruption, conspiracy, and endangering public safety."

Nara’s eyes widened in pure, animalistic fear. "You... you can’t do this!" He scrambled back, trying to summon cursed energy, his face contorted with desperation. But the moment he attempted to use his powers, a surge of electricity zapped through his body. Nara let out a strangled cry, his body convulsing as the suppression cuffs activated, disabling his abilities.

"Wh-what are these?!" he gasped, trembling from the aftershock of the cuffs.

The officer smirked, his gaze shifting to Kiyotaka. "New handcuffs, courtesy of your colleague over here." He gestured toward Kiyotaka, who was watching with a satisfied, smug grin.

"I told you, I was taking out the trash." He said mockingly with a shrug. "I even made sure to bring my own bag." The police officer snorted and dragged Nara up.

"Thank you for all your help sir." He said politely. Kiyotaka rolled his eyes.

"Don't you start." He threatened. Takuya, one more Hoshikage Clan member he had been introduced to in the last couple of weeks, only laughed.

As Nara was hauled away, Kiyotaka sighed and rubbed his face, mentally preparing for what was next. But when he turned around, he found practically the entire Auxiliary Department staring at him in stunned silence. Takeda, who had been hovering near the front, pushed his way through.

"I told you all!" Takeda shouted victoriously. "That bastard almost had me killed!"

Kiyotaka groaned, putting his face in his hands.

"Mr. Director~" Satoru's voice sing-songed from the doorway.

"No, Satoru-sempai," Kiyotaka replied flatly, not bothering to look up from the pile of paperwork on his desk in his newly appointed office.

Satoru pouted, stepping further into the room. "You’re so busy nowadays!" he complained, clearly fishing for attention.

Kiyotaka’s lips twitched, but he resisted the urge to smile. "You literally sleep at my house every night."

"Yeah, but that’s to sleep! We don’t talk anymore," Satoru shot back, crossing his arms dramatically.

Kiyotaka finally glanced up, sighing softly. "I know. I’m sorry."

Satoru blinked, surprised by the sincerity in Kiyotaka’s tone. "Oh," he said, awkwardly brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "I was just teasing you, you know."

"Still, you’re right," Kiyotaka admitted, leaning back in his chair. "I’ll make time this weekend, okay?"

Satoru's face broke into a blinding grin. "Deal!"

Kiyotaka’s expression softened. "Now," he said, folding his hands on the desk, "how can I help you?"

Satoru blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. "Oh, right!" He pulled a stack of papers from his bag and handed them over. "Enrollment papers for Tokyo Tech."

Kiyotaka skimmed the top page, his brow furrowing. "And why am I looking at these?"

"For Maki, obviously!" Satoru said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Kiyotaka arched an eyebrow. "Last I checked, I was technically harboring a missing child."

"You harbor a lot of things," Satoru quipped with a wink.

Kiyotaka’s cheeks turned pink. "Anyway," he muttered, clearing his throat, "what does this have to do with me?"

Satoru’s tone turned serious as he leaned forward. "Itsuki-san and I... convinced the twins’ parents to give you custody of Maki. We tried for Mai too, but they wouldn’t budge. It’s a shame, really. We should probably just get rid of them."

"Satoru, no," Kiyotaka snapped.

"Kidding!" Satoru raised his hands in mock surrender, though there was a glint in his eye that suggested otherwise.

Kiyotaka shook his head, filling out the paperwork despite himself. "You’re impossible."

As he handed the completed forms back to Satoru, their hands brushed lightly. Kiyotaka noticed that Satoru’s face was turning red—uncharacteristically so.

"...Are you okay?" Kiyotaka asked, his tone shifting with concern.

Satoru swallowed, clearly flustered. "I’m fine," he squeaked, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. "I—uh, I should go!"

And with that, he bolted from the room.

Later that evening, Kiyotaka relayed the story to Goki as he prepared dinner.

"...And then he just ran away," Kiyotaka finished, looking genuinely bewildered.

Goki, perched on the counter, stared at him blankly. "I take it back," she muttered dryly. "You’re the moron. He’s the moronsexual."

Kiyotaka squawked, his face turning pink in surprise. "What do you mean?" he sputtered.

Goki clicked her tongue in exasperation, not even bothering to explain. She hopped off the counter, leaving her clueless summoner behind.

Two days later, Kiyotaka paced nervously outside Shoko’s office at the hospital, phone in hand. He hadn’t seen Satoru in days, and it was starting to eat away at him.

"Shoko-san, I’m really sorry to bother you," Kiyotaka started, his voice strained with worry. "But I literally haven’t seen Satoru in two days, and I... I don’t know what to do! I know he doesn’t have any missions, so I’m pretty sure he’s avoiding me."

Shoko, who had been considering taking a well-earned nap, blinked at him, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Okay, first off," she said, trying to suppress a yawn, "call me Shoko."

Kiyotaka’s mind seemed to freeze. "What?" he asked, confused.

"You call everyone else by their first name," Shoko deadpanned. "I’m feeling left out."

"Oh, I’m... sorry. Shoko-san," Kiyotaka stammered, bowing lightly.

Shoko sighed deeply, rubbing her temples as she motioned for Kiyotaka to sit down. She was clearly tired, but there was still a faint trace of amusement in her eyes.

"Kiyotaka," she began, her voice filled with a mix of exasperation and patience, "you’re seriously worried about Satoru avoiding you? The guy who literally follows you everywhere like a lost puppy?"

Kiyotaka winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but... it’s not like him to disappear like this. I haven’t heard from him at all. He usually texts me, or at least shows up unannounced."

Shoko raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. "And you didn’t think maybe he’s just... being Satoru? The guy likes to be dramatic, you know that."

Kiyotaka sighed. "Yeah, but this feels different. He ran out of my office the other day. Literally ran, Ie- Shoko-san. That’s... not like him."

Shoko studied him for a moment, then exhaled slowly, leaning forward to rest her chin in her palm. "Okay, okay. Let’s break this down." She paused, tilting her head. "You said he ran after handing you some paperwork?"

Kiyotaka nodded, still looking troubled. "It was for Maki’s enrollment. But it wasn’t just that... He was acting really strange—he was stammering! And then his face suddenly turned red after I passed him the papers and he ran away! Satoru never runs!

Shoko let out a groan, slumping back in her chair. "Kiyotaka, you do realize what that means, right?"

Kiyotaka blinked, looking genuinely lost. "What?"

"He's into you, you dense idiot!" Shoko snapped, though there was a teasing glint in her eyes. "Why do you think he’s acting like a hormonal teenager? He probably freaked himself out."

Kiyotaka’s mouth opened in surprise, his brain trying to process what Shoko had just said.

"But... he’s never acted like this before..." He tried to explain.

Shoko rolled her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Because it really getting to him, genius. He’s been dealing with these feelings for a while and didn’t know how to handle them. And now that you’ve got this whole 'director' thing going on, he’s probably more flustered than ever."

Kiyotaka looked down, his brow furrowing as he seemed to gather his thoughts. Shoko watched him with an expression that was part curious, part exasperated.

"So... what do I do?" he finally asked, sounding genuinely lost.

Shoko rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "I can't believe I am having the other side of this conversation."

With a sigh, she fished into her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone, casting Kiyotaka a bemused glance. She dialed Kento with more drama than necessary (naturally since she was best friends with Satoru). Within two rings, he picked up.

"Shoko-chan?" Nanami’s calm, steady voice came through.

"You won’t believe this," Shoko began, her voice dripping with irony, "Kiyotaka is having a crisis in my office because Satoru disappeared."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Nanami let out a sigh, his tone edged with mild disbelief. "Kiyotaka’s worried because Satoru hasn’t been showing up? Isn’t it usually the other way around?"

"Exactly!" Shoko said, waving her free hand in a helpless gesture, despite knowing Nanami couldn’t see her. "I feel like I’m trapped in some alternate universe right now."

Nanami chuckled, though it was faint, tinged with amusement. "Well, best of luck dealing with this."

She huffed, "You're not going to help me?"

"No. I’m doing as you ordered—watching over my boyfriend," he replied, a hint of humor sneaking into his otherwise even tone. Shoko let out a delighted gasp. 

"Am I the first person to know?!" Even though she couldn't see him, Shok was sure Kento was rolling his eyes. He let out a breathless laugh. 

"Yes, so again, best of luck."

Shoko hung up with an eye roll, then turned back to Kiyotaka, an exasperated but amused expression on her face. "Look, I am 85% sure he's with those mysterious grandmothers he’s been talking about lately."

Kiyotaka blinked, looking as though a lightbulb had finally gone off. "Right! I haven’t checked in with Yuki-san and Hana-san!" he said, mentally chastising himself for the oversight.

Before he could rush off, Shoko held up a hand, stopping him. She looked at him thoughtfully, her tone becoming a touch more serious. “Before I let you go where he is, tell me honestly: what do you think of Satoru?”

Kiyotaka's face turned a shade of red as he shifted awkwardly, glancing away. "Confess my feelings? That’s... that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?"

Shoko crossed her arms, fixing him with an unwavering stare. "Look, Kiyotaka. I don’t need the whole fairy tale, just... whatever it is you’re bottling up right now. Best you figure out what you say now so you don't sound ridiculous when you find him." 

Kiyotaka exhaled, defeated. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the floor for a long moment before finally speaking. "It’s... complicated," he started quietly. “Satoru is—he’s overwhelming, irritating, and... insistent. But he’s also... the most loyal person I’ve ever known. No matter how much he drives me crazy, there’s this part of me that just... wants him around. I don’t want him to go.”

Shoko’s expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing glint left her eyes. "Sounds like someone’s got it bad," she murmured with a small, understanding smile.

Kiyotaka’s blush deepened, but he pressed on. "It’s... it’s not that simple. He’s the strongest, the one everyone looks up to, and I’m... just me. And yet, somehow, he makes me feel like I’m more than that. Like... maybe he sees something in me that I don’t even see myself.”

Shoko took a step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Kiyotaka, you’re not ‘just you.’ And if Satoru—of all people—sees something special in you, maybe it’s time you do too."

Kiyotaka looked down, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just... hard to believe sometimes.”

Shoko gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Go find him, Kiyotaka. And while you're at it maybe tell him what you just told me.”

Shoko shook her head as she watched him go, a small smile playing on her lips. "These two..." she muttered, then leaned back in her chair, once again debating whether or not to finally take that much-needed nap.

Chapter Text

"Hello, Kiyotaka-kun," Hana greeted warmly as Kiyotaka slipped off his shoes at the entrance of Hana-san and Yuki-san's home.

"You're here for Satoru-kun, I imagine," she continued, her tone as calm and welcoming as ever.

Kiyotaka exhaled, tension melting from his shoulders as he took in her words. "So he is here, then," he murmured, relief evident in his voice.

Hana arched a brow, a gentle smile on her face. "Of course," she replied. "Though I must say, he’s been... quite contemplative...In a way only Satoru-kun can be. Shall we have some tea before I take you to him?"

Kiyotaka hesitated for a moment, but seeing the glint of something that told him it was an order and not a request in her smile, he nodded. "Yes, that would be nice. Thank you."

"Come," Hana said, gesturing for him to follow her into a quiet room lined with soft cushions and a low table. As though proving her point, there was a pot of tea and two cups. Hana poured tea with practiced grace, handing Kiyotaka a delicate cup, and settled comfortably in the cushions. 

"So, did you have a fight?" She asked with an arched eyebrow. Kiyotaka sputtered out the tea he had just taken a sip of.

"A fight?!" He parroted, confusion evident. "No, no Hana-san, we didn't fight. If anything we parted ways a bit suddenly but amicably." He explained. 

"Then why is that brat still here?" Yuki interjected as she walked in. She gracefully sat down beside her wife, slipping one of her hands into Hana's. 

"Would you like a cup of tea my dear?" Hana asked.

"Might as well," She said with a shrug. Hana poured her a cup of tea and then went back to looking at Kiyotaka, a look of fondness on her features. 

"If it wasn't a fight, then why is he here? Yuki-chan and I became empty nesters quite some time ago, and while it has been a nice change of pace having him here, where he goes, Hakuyo-chan does as well, and as you have witnessed that usually leads to unfathomable amounts of chaos." 

"The others want him and Hakuyo seperated, which is impossible, so one of them has to go away, and right now that also seems impossible. So tell us why he isn't at your house right now?" Kiyotaka breathed out, frustrated. 

"I have no idea!" The two older ladies gave him looks indicating they were unimpressed. 

"I'm serious! We were in my office, he had me sign some papers, and then he turned bright red in the face and ran away!" He complained and repeated for the second time in a day. Yuki let out an ugly snort, to which Hana gave her a light swat.

"What? You have to admit it is kind of funny." She argues. Hana's lips twitched upward, but she said nothing. 

"And why do you think that is Kiyotaka-kun?" She asked, not unkindly. Kiyotaka's face flushed. He looked down at his cup of tea.

"One of his friends said that he's in love with me." He admitted. Yuki tilted her head in confusion. 

"Wait a second. You two aren't dating yet?" She asked bewilderedly. Kiyotaka looked at her just as confused. 

"No?"

"I've never met a pair of soulmates that moves as slow as you guys do." She said, leaning back. Hana nodded her head in agreement. Kiyotaka paled. 

"Wait, we're soulmates?!" He gasped out. The two others looked at him baffled.

"Child, did you not know?" Hana inquired. 

"No!"

"Well, the other idiot did," Yuki stated. 

"Did he not like the fact that we are?" Kiyotaka couldn't help but say aloud feeling suddenly dizzy. 

"No, no Kiyotaka-kun listen to me." Hana said quickly. "He was delighted to know he was your soulmate." She said gently. 

"Then, why didn't he tell me?" He asked distressed. 

"We can't answer that." Yuki said bluntly as usual. 

"Maybe he's worried about something?" Hana suggested. "I've heard of soulmate hesitation when the relationship started very rocky." She offered. 

"Oh." Kiyotaka said, realization settling in.

"Goki is right, he is a moron." 

Hana stifled a chuckle at Kiyotaka's resigned tone. "Mind elaborating?" 

"We went to the same high school; where we both work now. Satoru-sempai sort of bullied me?" The two women blinked back at him in shock. 

"When I get my hands on that brat-" Yuki started threatening before Kiyotaka cut her off.

"It isn't that big of a deal; I forgave him a long time ago." He explained. 

"Does Satoru-kun know that?" Hana questioned. 

"Well, no. I figured he would have realized that by now." 

"Unbelievable." Grouched Yuki. "Instead of apologizing the idiot ran away?!" Kiyotaka sighed, equally exasperated. 

"We really need to talk." He admitted. "I haven't been as forthcoming as I though I was, and now that is causing a lot of confusion." 

"Yes," Hana agreed, "that would be best. I have a feeling that Satoru-kun is overthinking this." Kiyotaka's eyebrows furrowed. 

"How so?" Before Hana could explain what she meant, there was a loud crashing sound, and Yuki sighed.

"Here those two go again; they're a match made in hell. Kami-sama help us." She muttered. Looking at Kiyotaka,

"Go, before he realizes you're here, and trys to run who knows where." Kiyotaka nodded. 

"Thank you." He said gratefully, as he hurried to the source of the possible explosion. 

Kiyotaka followed the trail of muffled voices outside, where the sounds of animated chatter and the occasional crash echoed from around the side of the house. As he rounded the corner, he found himself facing an unpredictable scene: Satoru, clearly flustered, standing amidst the remnants of a shattered clay pot, while Hakuyo gestured wildly, seemingly trying to justify the wreckage.

"Really, Hakuyo, I told you not to practice Red so close to the house!" Satoru huffed, arms crossed in mock reprimand. "Now look what you did—you broke one of the grandmas' pots!"

Hakuyo shrugged, an unapologetic grin on her face. "Hey, research demands sacrifices, Satoru-nii! If that happens to include a pot or two… so be it."

Kiyotaka watched for a moment, heart hammering in his chest as relief finally settled over him. While everyone had assured him Satoru was fine—and he knew rationally that nothing could harm Satoru—seeing him here, unharmed and causing his usual havoc, filled him with a deep, unexpected solace.

Clearing his throat, he caught their attention. Both of them spun around, startled. Satoru’s eyes widened, a blend of surprise and embarrassment flashing across his face, while Hakuyo smirked at Kiyotaka, muttering something about “more important research to do” before slipping away, leaving her cousin behind.

Kiyotaka took a tentative step forward, feeling a swirl of relief and apprehension as he met Satoru’s gaze. The usually unshakable sorcerer seemed genuinely flustered, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Kiyotaka,” Satoru began, his voice soft, still seeming to process Kiyotaka’s presence. “What… what are you doing here?”

Kiyotaka offered a small smile, slipping his hands into his pockets for steadiness. “Looking for you, obviously. You ran off, and I…” he paused, searching for the right words. “I was worried. And apparently, with good reason,” he added, nodding toward the shattered pottery scattered around.

Satoru scratched the back of his head, laughing awkwardly. “Ah, yeah… Hakuyo and I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

Kiyotaka’s expression softened, and the tension that had been brewing for days finally eased. “It’s good to see you, Satoru-sempai,” he said, his voice warmer than he’d meant.

Satoru shifted uncomfortably, before almost impulsively murmuring, “I didn’t mean to worry you.” His voice barely reached above a whisper, and Kiyotaka hummed in response.

“I think,” he began, “we need to talk.” Satoru’s eyes widened, a flash of vulnerability surfacing as he froze.

“Y-yeah! 100%! I just need to clean up this pot first because Yuki-Obaa-san is going to—” he started to ramble, words rushing out in his fluster. Kiyotaka closed the distance between them, taking slow, measured steps until he stood directly before Satoru—his absurd, ridiculously tall, and, as he’d recently come to realize, genuinely adorable sempai—and gently grasped his hands.

“I’ll ask Amahle-san to tell Hakuyo to clean this up; she made the mess, after all,” he said, his tone steady. “Perks of being the next clan head.” Satoru gave him a shaky smile.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Kiyotaka offered. All Satoru could do was nod his head. 

When Kiyotaka had remade the connection between the Hoshikage Clan grounds and Tokyo Tech, he had added three other locations; Daisuke's house, Aunty Haruka's restaurant, and his apartment. Making quick work of putting aside his shoes, and taking off his dress jacket and putting it on the coat hanger, he looked at Satoru, who seemed to have gained a little of his compuser back. 

"I didn't finish my cup of tea at Yuki and Hana-san's, so I'm going to make another one. Would you like one?" 

"Er, sure?" Kiyotaka nodded, and headed to the kitchen, Satoru following him behind. 

Pouring them both a cup and bringing the sugar and a spoon with him, he gently walked over to the living room, where Satoru sat on the couch nervously. Kiyotaka handed him his cup and pushed the sugar closer to his side on the ottoman that was between the sofa and the TV. Muttering a thank you, Satoru proceeded to mix in a nauseating amount of sugar into his cup. Kiyotaka looked at it with thinly veiled disgust, but that soon shifted to fondness as Satoru took his fist sip, his shoulders loosened and his eyes closed briefly. Waiting for him to look back at him because Satoru always followed him with his eyes, Kiyotaka started. 

"So, Hana-san and Yuki-san told me a couple minutes ago that we are soulmates...and that you knew." 

Satoru froze, his eyes widening slightly. He swallowed hard, setting his cup down, his gaze fixed on the tea as if it could offer him an escape from the conversation. 

"Sempai," Kiyotaka sighed, "Satoru why didn't you tell me?" Satoru’s entire frame shuddered, and he looked up, meeting Kiyotaka’s eyes, which were now clouded with concern and a hurt that twisted something deep inside him. For a moment, Satoru struggled, words lodging in his throat, but finally, he managed to speak, his voice raw and trembling.

“I was going to tell you. I swear. I tried, but—” He faltered, his gaze dropping as if the words themselves were too heavy to lift. “I was okay with things the way they were. I kept telling myself that I was fine with just this, even if things never changed. But then... we kept getting closer, I kept staying here, and all I wanted was more. And I thought—” His voice cracked, and he laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “I thought, how could I want more? I didn’t deserve to be your friend, let alone... anything more.”

Kiyotaka’s face softened, but Satoru could only push on, unable to bear that look of wounded kindness directed at him. 

“I was terrible to you, Kiyotaka,” Satoru’s voice cracked, the weight of his own guilt settling over him like a lead blanket. "You were just a kid, and while I was too, I was older. I should have known better. I should have been better. But I wasn’t, was I?" His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, his eyes shining with regret as he forced himself to meet Kiyotaka’s gaze. "Instead, I pushed my way into your space. I forced you into things... forced you to deal with me. I was selfish, and I... I never once thought about how it felt for you."

Kiyotaka swallowed, his own voice hoarse. "Satoru—"

But Satoru shook his head, the words rushing out as though he was afraid he might never be able to say them if he stopped. "I wanted to be close to you, even then. It sounds twisted, doesn’t it? But that’s why I kept showing up.  I wanted to matter to you, even though I knew I didn’t deserve to. I thought if I could just make myself be around so often, and take over so much of your work time, you’d have no choice but to keep me around, even if I didn’t deserve it."

Satoru’s shoulders slumped, his eyes brimming with tears that he could no longer hide. "But it was wrong. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for what I did to you back then… how I forced you to put up with me, with someone who only made things harder for you."

He took a deep, shaky breath, voice breaking as he whispered, "I hurt you, and I kept hurting you. And now, knowing that we’re soulmates... that somehow, I’m meant to be something good for you, it feels like a joke. A cruel, twisted joke. Goki even said that too when I told her, she seemed to be in genuine distress; demanded to speak to who told me this, hoping it was a lie. That's why we were at Hana Obaa-san's."

He took a ragged breath, his gaze drifting to the floor, unable to look Kiyotaka in the eye. "And then you… you did something I didn’t deserve. You got upset for me, and demanded to know if Hakuyo was trying to hurt me, and… let me in. Into your space, into your life… your bedroom, even. Every single night, without a word, without question. You just… you let me stay."

Satoru’s hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, the strain in his voice cracking it down the middle. "And all I could think was that I didn’t deserve it. That I didn’t deserve to be so close to you, didn’t deserve the kindness you gave so freely. And the guilt… the guilt has been eating me alive, Kiyotaka. I kept thinking that every moment you let me stay, I was taking advantage of the one person who actually cared enough to look past what I did."

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away, his throat tightening as he forced himself to continue. "But I couldn’t help it. I just wanted to be near you. And every night I’d lie there, feeling this pit in my chest, wondering when you’d realize you deserved someone better. Wondering when you’d finally tell me to leave, tell me I wasn’t worth it."

He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you never did. And I don’t know how to deal with that." 

Kiyotaka’s gaze softened, a gentle warmth replacing the tension in the room. "Oh, Satoru," he murmured. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner; I forgave you a long time ago. You’ve been punishing yourself for something I moved past years ago."

“But what if it’s just this stupid bond?” Satoru’s voice cracked as he blurted it out, eyes pleading as if searching for something, anything to explain why Kiyotaka would do such a thing. "What if that’s the reason you’re not even angry that I hid it from you? What if it’s—”

Kiyotaka gently cut him off, taking a steadying breath. “You can ask any of my colleagues, Ken, Daisuke, Kazuko—all of them would tell you the same thing. I forgave you long ago.” He paused, his gaze steady as he met Satoru’s eyes. “Satoru, you probably—no, definitely—saved my life."

Satoru blinked, a mix of confusion and surprise in his expression, as though he couldn’t quite process Kiyotaka’s words.

“All I knew was that I had to be a sorcerer, that I had to be a ‘good’ one, even if my shinigami were weak. My parents dropped me off a week before school started and never looked back. No one cared enough to tell me that it was okay if I wasn’t cut out for the front lines. I thought it was all or nothing.” Kiyotaka’s voice grew quieter, more vulnerable. “But then you… you told me to quit in your own way, scared the life out of me, and practically forced all that mission paperwork on me. And somewhere in that chaos, I learned what I was really good at.”

He took a deep breath, glancing down as if gathering the right words. “Suddenly, spending hours in the library wasn’t something to be ashamed of. I finally had something real, something meaningful to do. And whenever I felt like I was drowning in doubt, you’d either be slightly less annoying or so ridiculously over-the-top that I’d forget what I was even worrying about. You saw me, Satoru… even when I felt like a ghost, like a wallflower who no one really noticed. Even my own parents haven’t looked after me the way you do.”

Satoru’s expression softened, a glint of something hopeful breaking through the pain in his eyes.

“It should be unsettling. Maybe the bond is why it isn’t.” Kiyotaka’s voice grew softer, but his gaze held firm. “But here’s what I know: I may not be able to say I love you yet, Satoru… but I can say that I adore you.

I want to have dinner here or at Aunty’s restaurant, you picking through my food but always leaving my favorite things. I want to see you dance around Daisuke-san’s living room with my Ayakashi, Ken, and Kazuko, bringing chaos in the best way. I want to have Megumi-kun over more often, now that he and the twins are building a relationship. I want to introduce him to the Hoshikage Clan and visit Tsumiki together so that the nurses stop assuming I’m her father, knowing you’re there for her too even if they don't know because you always visit when no one is around. I don’t think I could live my life well if you weren’t a part of it because I adore you, Satoru—every ridiculous, infuriating, brilliant part of you.”

Kiyotaka reached out, his hand finding Satoru’s, grounding him. “You are more than your mistakes, more than the guilt you carry. And I’m here… if you want to try this together.”

A heavy but mostly comfortable silence settled between them, thick with all the years of tension, the misunderstandings, and the quiet admiration neither had ever named. Satoru’s eyes glistened, his face pink as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.

“Oh… what am I going to do?” he murmured almost to himself, overwhelmed.

“Hm?” Kiyotaka asked gently.

Satoru let out a laugh, though it was tinged with emotion. “Why are you being so… cool? This confident, courageous Kiyotaka is sweeping me off my feet here, and I—I'm not prepared.” His hands came up to cover his face as he tried to rein in his feelings, voice breaking as he whispered, “I’m not sure I can deal with this either.”

Kiyotaka’s face softened, leaning back with a slight smile. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say ‘courageous,’” he said, a bit shyly now, his voice dropping. “If I had courage…”

Satoru peeked out from behind his hands, curiosity mingling with a quiet vulnerability. “If you had courage?”

Kiyotaka was somehow even more flustered than he did that day they went into the river because this time the new window in his apartment was catching Satoru's hair just right, highlighting the blue of his eyes, rimmed red and raw but full of a familiar spark that promised mischief. He took a deep breath, inching closer until his face was only inches from Satoru’s, his heart beating so loud it was almost deafening.

With a final exhale, he leaned in, brushing his lips against Satoru’s—gentle, warm, everything he’d been afraid to name until now. Satoru’s breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut, and Kiyotaka could feel the heat between them, a mix of nerves and relief so overwhelming it left him breathless.

When he pulled back, Satoru’s eyes were wide, his face flushed as he took in what had just happened.

“You… really did that, didn’t you?” Satoru whispered, awe mingling with disbelief.

Kiyotaka let out a breathless laugh, his own cheeks tinged pink. “Turns out… I might be a little more courageous than I thought.” Satoru's face lit up with a bright, genuine laugh, the kind that made his whole face glow. Then, in a swift move, he leaned forward and tackled Kiyotaka onto the couch, pinning him with ease, his grin turning into a playful smirk.

"I think," he said, voice low and teasing, "I need another one of those."

Kiyotaka could only stare up at him, heart racing, his breath catching in his throat as he took in Satoru's gaze, intense and unyielding. He swallowed heavily, feeling the warmth of Satoru’s hands pressing into the cushions beside him, and the faintest brush of his breath, close enough to touch.

“Well,” Kiyotaka managed, voice barely a whisper, gathering that alleged courage he had, “since you asked so nicely…”

He reached up, fingers grazing Satoru's jaw as he pulled him down, their lips meeting again—this time deeper, with the kind of honesty and intensity that left no room for doubts, only the electric certainty that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Megumi sighed in exasperation as his aunts—or were they cousins?—dragged him over to the apartment that Maki shared with Kiyotaka. Kazuko, Kiyotaka’s friend and, as the twins had introduced her, “the one actually running things,” walked a few steps behind them, her calm smile betraying nothing.

He could be at home right now, lying in his own bed, but Satoru had decided to play family therapist, insisting that Megumi needed “healthy connections” with "some" of his Zenin relatives. It made no sense to him. Satoru had practically coined the phrase “the Gojo Clan can kick rocks” and had expressed that sentiment creatively on more than one occasion. Yet somehow, Satoru had convinced himself that forcing Megumi to interact with his family was some sort of growth experience, going so far as to take the key to his own apartment, claiming he’d be fine at Daisuke-san’s house, and drop him off with an overnight bag, disappearing before Megumi could even find something sharp to throw at him.

All things considered, the last two days had been… surprisingly tolerable. Once he got past the awkward introductions, Ken’s bubbly energy and Kazuko’s gentle presence had smoothed things over. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but secretly, he was even having a bit of fun. The food had been great, and the curse weapons everyone kept around made the whole ordeal bearable.

As Kazuko parked in the spot designated for Kiyotaka’s apartment, he noticed the girls’ worried glances. 

"Kiyotaka is usually home by now; if he was helping with a mission he would have texted," Maki explained as they made their way into the apartment complex and to Kiyotaka's apartment, explaining why an empty parking spot would cause concern. Quietly, they slipped off their shoes in the entryway, padding softly across the hallway to the living room. Maki led the way and then froze. Confused the others moved into the living room with her confused at what she was looking at. 

Then they too froze.

Inside, Kiyotaka and Satoru were, very clearly, wrapped up in each other, deeply engrossed in a passionate kiss on the couch.

A horrified shriek escaped Megumi, his eyes wide with shock as he immediately whipped around, his face a mixture of horror and utter dismay. Maki’s face twisted in pure disbelief as she joined him, letting out her own scandalized gasp. Meanwhile, Mai and Kazuko let out squeals of delight. 

“Oh my god, finally!” Mai cried out, her hands clapping in glee as she nudged Kazuko, who had a proud, delighted grin.

“I knew it,” Kazuko whispered, her eyes sparkling as she clasped her hands together. “I just knew this would happen!”

Satoru and Kiyotaka froze mid-kiss, turning to look at the four of them in shock, faces flushed and utterly caught off guard.

Kiyotaka let out a groan and covered his face in embarrassment. Satoru, back to being his shameless self, gave them all a smug grin.

 "What can we do for you all?" He said with a fake look of interest. 

"Not continue what you were doing until after we leave," Maki snapped back. Satoru tilted his head to the side. 

"Will that take long? We all know I am not a patient man." Maki made a sound of disgust, which was mirrored on Megumi's face. Kiyotaka let out another cry of dismay. With a sigh, Maki stomped over to her room, grabbed the wrapped weapon, and shot the couple on the couch one more disgusted look. 

Kazuko stepped a bit closer to her two friends so the younger ones couldn't hear. "Best you move to the bedroom if things go any farther; we all do sit on this couch after all, and I would hate to stain my clothes." She quipped before leaving, the sound of Kiyotaka's suffering being her outro music. 

And so, life went on, bringing them to the day Maki started high school. What should have been a simple move-in was quickly spiraling out of control—thanks to Kiyotaka's relentless fussing.

Maki sighed, watching him straighten her bedding for the third time and double-check the lock on her door. "You work two buildings down, and I’ll be home every weekend. It’s not that serious," she said, hoping to ease his nerves.

“Yes, but this room will be yours for the next four years,” he countered, eyebrows knitting with concern. “I want it to be perfect.”

She looked around her room, casting a dry glance at the painted walls. They were practically glowing with the protective spells he’d infused, each charm meticulously brushed on with curse-infused ink and potions of every color. Crossing her arms, she leveled him with an unimpressed stare. “I think these walls are the most protected ones in the entire school, if not the world.”

Kiyotaka chuckled, catching her point, but she wasn’t done. “If you really want to make things good enough, hurry up with the barrier stone at Tokyo Tech so I can see Mai whenever I want.”

He let out a soft laugh, giving her a smile. “Alright, alright, I suppose that’s only fair.”

In that quiet moment, Maki felt her nerves settle, knowing she had a guardian who cared beyond reason—and that made starting high school feel a little less daunting. 

Satoru leaned casually against the doorframe, his mischievous grin stretching wider. “Mr. Director~” he called in a singsong voice as he strolled into Kiyotaka’s office, hands behind his back and a gleam in his eyes that could only mean trouble.

Kiyotaka looked up from his ever-growing stack of paperwork, sighing but with a smile. “What is it this time, Satoru-sempai?”

Satoru rocked back on his heels, the picture of innocence as he said, “Oh, I just wanted to introduce you to our newest first-year!”

Kiyotaka blinked, his brows furrowing. “Newest? Satoru, what are you talking about?” He sifted through his paperwork and paused at Satoru’s latest mission report. The barely legible scrawl on it made him pinch the bridge of his nose: "I say we recruit him and his cursed girlfriend!"

“Satoru,” he started slowly, “you didn’t.”

Satoru's grin only widened, his eyes twinkling with mischievousness. “Oh, but I did.”

Kiyotaka groaned. “And upper management just let you…?”

Satoru waved him off. “Well, no. But I didn’t want to risk them sending an assassin or something, so I took matters into my own hands. I picked him up, fed him, got him clothes, even met with his absentee parents. And then I just… brought him here!” He beamed, as if he’d accomplished a minor miracle. “Isn’t that something to be proud of? Way smoother than with Maki, I promise.”

Kiyotaka buried his face in his hands, willing himself to stay calm. “And,” he said, glancing back at the report and squinting, “Yutarika is outside?”

“Ah,” Satoru said, waving his hand dismissively, “his name is Yuta. Rika is his cursed girlfriend. See, this is why people should understand the importance of spacing between words.” Kiyotaka shot him an unimpressed look because only Satoru would have the audacity to act like someone else was the cause of the error on the mission report he wrote.

Satoru gave an exaggerated sigh. “Can he come in now?”

“Fine.” Kiyotaka relented, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“YUTA-KUN, YOU CAN COME IN!” Satoru yelled, with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store. A moment later, soft footsteps echoed, and a pale, nervous-looking boy entered the office. But the air shifted instantly—the temperature dropped, and every hair on Kiyotaka’s arm stood on end. Even Gijo, the least vigilant of the Ayakashi bodyguards, jolted awake, snapping his gaze toward Yuta.

Kiyotaka glanced at Satoru, who only nodded back as if saying, Yep, isn’t he amazing?

“Yuta-kun, this is Ijichi Kiyotaka,” Satoru introduced cheerfully. “If you can’t find me, look for Kiyotaka. He’s one of the only reliable adults here.” Kiyotaka shot him a half-hearted glare but, with a deep breath, extended his hand toward Yuta.

“Nice to meet you, Yuta-kun. And… Rika-chan as well.”

That night, Kiyotaka found himself engrossed in the final pages of Book 8: Potioncraft: Healing Draughts and Curses in a Cauldron, where he encountered the most mythical potion of them all: Potion of Wild Metamorphosis.

Also known as the “Shifter’s Gamble,” the passage read, this potion provides an unpredictable transformation into a random animal. Potent and volatile, it is favored among potion brewers when stealth, survival, or the occasional escape from the mundane is required. I have convinced nearly everyone to try the one-hour version: Tengen turned into an elephant, to everyone's amazement. Sukuna was transformed into a large red wolf, not quite as big as Tengen. I, myself, became a cat. Sukuna has taken to making fun of me as I am the smallest one. One of these days, I’ll concoct a potion to make all his hair fall off in revenge.

Kiyotaka chuckled, trying to imagine Tengen lumbering around as a gigantic elephant. Just then, Satoru, lying beside him, stirred, one eye cracking open.

“What’s so funny?” he mumbled sleepily.

Kiyotaka snorted. “Apparently, there’s a potion that turns you into an animal. Yukari-sensei says Tengen turned into an elephant.”

Satoru let out a sleepy laugh. “An elephant? What about Sukuna?”

“He turned into a large wolf,” Kiyotaka continued. Then he paused, his breath catching. “Oh. And… Yukari-sensei turned into a cat… with red markings that looked like pants. They called her form Miko-chan.”

“Wait, hold on,” Satoru said, more alert now, his brows knitting together. “Isn’t that what you named that stray cat you visit in the private library?”

Kiyotaka’s eyes widened in realization. “Tengen knew!” He bolted upright. “That’s why he said he was surprised to receive his human form first!”

The next morning, Kiyotaka moved with purpose, abandoning his usual morning run. Clutching Book 8 and his bag, he made his way to the library, his mind racing. The doors creaked open as he entered, and there, lounging lazily on the desk was Miko-chan, one eye drifting open at his approach.

He caught his breath, a question burning on his lips. “Yukari-sensei?” he asked, voice almost a whisper.

The cat stretched, her expression both smug and amused. “Took you long enough,” Miko-chan—Yukari-sensei—purred, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Kiyotaka stared down at her, emotions cycling between shock, horror, and pure disbelief. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling for words.

“You—You’ve been the cat this whole time?”

Yukari-sensei gave a delicate yawn, showing no remorse. “Honestly, Kiyotaka-kun, did you think a cat who can read was normal?”

Kiyotaka’s mouth snapped shut, the reality settling over him. He gaped down at her again.

She flicked her tail, a little too pleased with herself. “Oh, and about that ‘red pants’ comment Sukuna made? Completely untrue. My markings are stylish. He was just jealous.”

Kiyotaka pressed a hand to his face. “Of course. Of course, the snarky library cat I’ve been feeding tuna is my sensei. I need... I need to sit down.”

“Don’t take too long,” she said with a smirk, licking a paw. “We have big things to discuss. Also, I’m out of tuna.”

Chapter Text

Hello everyone! Part two, The Veil Forger’s Gambit: Threads of Power and Trust, is out now!