Chapter Text
There was always a flicker of something in his eyes every time he’d taken a glance at her.
Something holy that he knew. Something that he could see.
It wasn’t divine, nor was it gentle—no, Suguru Geto’s gaze was something reverent that pulled him down every time he’d try to get up.
As if she was the one thing he could never desecrate. Even as he burned everything else to the ground from the sanctuary he once knew.
Some would say she was the reason why he hesitated, but every time he turned his back to look at the past he abandoned, her name would always stir—keeping him from moving forward.
She never asked him to stay.
But he never truly left either.
Maybe that's why he can never rest in peace.
No.
He brought this upon himself. He brought her into the mess he made and left her to carry the weight of it.
Something that would never quite recover very easily.
A burden that time cannot soften.
But again—gods rarely flee from worship.
But before the gods, before the ghosts—there was just a girl.
Born under rays where the sky reflected— a house where silence weighed more than words.
She learned early what it meant to be overlooked. What it meant to be born of something that became a failure.
The result of merging two clans into unity.
The Gushiken and Kamo clans.
The daughter of a distant mother and a legacy-bound father. Her existence was an afterthought ever since the divorce. Quiet, obedient, bright enough to shine, but not enough to blind.
She bore the name Kamo and wore and tore the only gift she had of herself.
Power.
Not just any power—
A perfect combination of passed-down cursed techniques from both clans.
A blend.
Yet, it was discarded as dangerous.
Too dangerous.
Forbidden.
They call it “Hemoseance”—a” forbidden fusion of blood, memory, and psychological control.
A form of blood manipulation that let her interact with and manipulate the memory of the victim, as well as weave threads of blood— a cursed technique that doesn't only damage physically but also psychologically.
Instead of nurturing it like the Kamo elders once hoped, she’s weaponized it into something forbidden in the walls of the Kamo clan— a horrific seal— the fusion that was meant to form peace.
In the clan, children were born with expectation carved into their bones. She was no different. Her cursed energy stirred early. Sharp and volatile, and the elders took note. They spoke of her blood like it was something sacred—an echo of something greater.
But reverence in the Kamo clan did not mean love. It meant use. It meant weapon. Yet, it was never met with expectation.
Why? Because she was born a girl. A woman. An emotional being.
So she trained.
Endlessly.
Mercilessly.
Perfectly.
Yet, all the praise and love she had craved for was met with someone else so effortlessly. Lovingly.
Her half-brother, Noritoshi Kamo.
The affair child of her father; the reason for her parents' divorce.
Her pride for love and title was stripped all because she was not born a male. He got everything she always wanted. Yet it was never his fault to begin with; after all, he was only a child.
Born into a family that praised what he simply was while punishing what she had to become.
And maybe that's why she was so angry.
Maybe that's why she despised him so much.
Envied and hated him.
Which only resulted in the unforgivable. An attempt on her brother’s life.
It was instinctive. It was ugly.
Born of years steeped in silence, in “Why can’t you be more like him?” and in praise that always landed just next to her.
She had always been the one with potential—but never the one they chose.
And when a child is constantly measured but never cherished,
They start to believe they are only worth the weight they carry.
That love is conditional.
That praise is performance.
That identity must be earned.
And womanhood—must be silenced.
Because what is a girl with power in a house full of men who fear softness?
What is a daughter in a lineage that only honors sons?
Forgotten.
That’s what she was.
Forgotten, even as she bled for their name.
Favoritism strips a child of self-worth and replaces it with obsession: obsession with being and doing better.
With proving themselves, with earning what should’ve been given freely. It distorts love into currency. It turns siblings into rivals.
And worst of all—it teaches them to hate parts of themselves they cannot change.
For her, that hatred fermented.
Until one day, it spilled over.
And when it did, she was no longer a daughter.
She became a liability. A threat.
A girl with too much power—and no place to put it.
So they sent her away.
Not with punishment but with silence.
The birds chirped— a humming melody in a calm, wavering morning. With rays of sunlight kissing the area with its warmth.
“So, who is this new girl again? ” Shoko questioned, puffing out smoke in front of Gojo.
“Hey! How many times do I have to tell you not to puff one out in front of me?! ”Gojo said with annoyance in his tone.
“You didn’t answer my question! ” Shoko placed her hands on her hips, an expression of annoyance spreading through her face.
“Dunno, some girl from Kyoto for the exchange program,” Gojo shrugged, tossing a rice cracker into his mouth. “They said she needed a change of pace or whatever. Not quite fast with her curse technique. Why are you asking me anyway? Just ask Sensei! ”
Shoko raised a brow. “Change of pace? You could do that?
Geto, listening intently to the conversation with arms crossed, finally blinked back. “It’s not usual. I don't think anyone has done that. Aren’t the exchange programs just…. a sparring against the sister schools? ”
“Yeah, that was my first thought too. Not an entire exchange,” Gojo said with a finger on his chin. “Sensei did mention something about her being in a clan or something,” Geto added.
“Eavesdropping now, are we, Suguru? ” Shoko said with a teasing grin, leaving Geto scratching the top of his head from embarrassment. “Can’t help it. You guys talk too loud.”
Gojo leaned in with a grin. “Oooh, clan kid. Fancy.”
“Do you ever take anything seriously? ” Shoko sighed.
“Nope.” Gojo winked.
“But hey, if she’s that mysterious, maybe she’ll make a good addition—”
With words winced back and forth, Yaga sensei entered the room with a look known to the three students.
“So,” Yaga sensei paused. “I am sure you are aware of the news, yes? ”
“What news? ”Gojo asked. “Idiot, we were just talking about it earlier.” Shoko ran her fingers through her hair. “Ohhh, the new student.”
“Yes, a student from Kyoto will be staying with us for the rest of the school year,” Yaga sensei mentioned before turning his head to the door.
“You can enter now,” he called out.
The door creaked open, and the light from the hallway framed her like an apparition. Her footsteps were quiet, but the pressure that followed was not. Gojo’s grin faltered—not out of fear, but recognition. This was someone who had been forged, not raised. They could tell. A weapon in the shape of a girl.
Her eyes held no arrogance, only precision. Calculating. The kind of gaze that had witnessed a lot.
Unbeknownst to them, as she opened the door of the classroom, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko felt an overwhelming aura coming from the girl. There she stood— a presence heavily carried by aura. But it wasn’t her appearance that struck them. It was the pressure she carried—the kind that made the air feel just a little heavier. There was something off, something other.
“Do you guys…” “Dear, please introduce yourself,” Shogo sensei interrupted Gojo as she followed through with a nod.
“Kamo Y/n, I am from Jujutsu High in Kyoto. I come from both the Kamo and Gushiken clans, my father being a Kamo and my mother a Gushiken. I am currently in grade 2.”
There was a flicker of hesitation—small, but visible to anyone paying attention—as if she’d had to force herself to say it all without flinching. Like the words still tasted of the blood she spilled to earn them.
Shoko straightened slightly, eyes narrowing at the mention of both clan names. Geto tilted his head in quiet thought.
“My curse technique, Hemoseance, is a form of blood curse that not only allows me to manipulate physically but also psychologically, if… that makes sense,” she explained.
Geto’s brows furrowed slightly. That name—it wasn’t one he recognized, and yet something about it gnawed at him. Not fear. Not awe. Something older. Reverence, maybe.
Shoko didn’t speak. She just stared, quiet and focused. There were techniques that broke bones. There were techniques that broke minds. This girl… could do both.
She paused, then glanced up, her eyes momentarily locking with Gojo’s. “I hope to be of use during my stay here.”
A beat of silence followed.
Then—
Gojo leaned toward Shoko and whispered, “Did she just say psychological blood manipulation? What does that even mean? ”
Shoko didn’t respond right away, still watching her with subtle suspicion. “Blood techniques are nasty business… we might be in for something rough.”
“Yeah,” Geto murmured, pushing off from the wall. “But as far as I know, the Kamo clan can only manipulate, not go through someone’s mind.”
Gojo’s grin grew. “Ohhh, now that’s interesting.” He stepped forward, hands stuffed in his pockets, posture casual but curious.
“Hey. Kamo and Gushiken, huh? That’s quite the lineage. Gushiken’s kind of a quiet clan, aren’t they? And Kamo... well.” He smirked. “Let’s just say history is a story that can only reflect an individual’s actions today.”
She met his gaze without flinching. “I’m different.”
“Oho! ” Gojo chuckled. “Straight answer! I like her already.”
Shoko sighed. “Just don’t start a fight five minutes in.”
Yaga cleared his throat. “That’s enough. She will be joining your group for training, missions, and lectures starting today. Treat her as you would any of your classmates.”
“Of course,” Geto replied smoothly. “We’ll take good care of her.”
Gojo nudged him. “You just want to see what she can do.”
Geto gave him a side glance. “And you don’t? ”
Gojo winked at her. “Don’t worry. We’re mostly harmless.”
Shoko raised a brow. “Mostly.”
She didn’t smile, but her expression softened just slightly. “Thanks. I look forward to working with you all.”
Just beneath her calm tone, the three could sense it—that restrained, pressurised energy.
She sat down at the far end of the room. Not too close, not too distant. Just far enough to remind herself she was still something set apart.
Geto watched her a moment longer than the others. There was a form of flicker every time he would look at her— intrigue, perhaps. That quiet curiosity shook him, as if wanting to know more. More about her.