Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The story begins at the end of a dream, the end of a death-like sleep that had nearly stolen a god's daughter, and his shadowy counterpart's sister. One would say she was weak. A lily that could be easily bruised and destroyed.

Mortal.

In one world, it was so. To have been possessed and torn apart by the brother who was not blood, but of heart. Not long after, her guardian followed her to an airport awaiting their flight. Both had agreed to wait for the last of their family. Their Blessing, to return to them after a long time.

This is not that story, for the memories of the soul that slumbers within her awaken. Slowly but surely, the darkness that had tormented her was now something she wielded like a weapon. And it begins with a curse.

Prologue: A Falling Rock Ripples the Lake

Distant voices from her dreams scream out that would have woken her and turned her into a sobbing mess. She tries to muffle her screams, as if any sound leaving her lips would result in another lash from the whip. 

You are nothing but a stain to the YunmengJiang! A servant!

The pain that she felt in her dreams followed her into wakefulness. She dreams of a little boy. A little boy who starved for food, for a family, for love. The little boy who wandered somewhere dark and cold, who couldn’t leave. The poor little boy who was scared of dogs, who cried even when the smallest, sweetest puppy came close to him. His sniffles and screams echo within her psyche.

No! Don't come near me! It hurts! Everything hurts!

The dreams were never always about the poor boy's suffering. Sometimes they were as sweet as honey. A reprieve from the visions of pain and screaming.

A-Xian!

The terror of the boy, a teenager, barely a man, as he was thrown from a cliff to be devoured by the cold, cold resentment of the dead.

You will be trapped here for all of eternity!

Maybe some part of his poor soul had been trapped in suffering. Maybe it is still there, to pay for the sins of her past. Even if there were some bright spots. Something that had held him together to fight the darkness that continues to threaten to devour her. So she starts to crawl. She claws her way back to the living, to fight a hopeless war with nothing but a flute and spite.

A proper sorcerer. Satoru would be proud.

The war was won, but everything tasted like ash. It was like having ants crawl under her skin and the cold consuming her from within. She meets a familiar face, dirty and desperate. The poor doctor begged her to save her brother the way that she had saved hers.

He couldn't say no. 

After all, what was her life if not a story of debts and repayment? So she saves the doctor's family, people who were too old and too young to have participated in the slaughter that destroyed everything that she ever had. 

And the young man saves them.

He takes them to the mountain where he was torn apart and had put himself into something else. To repay the debt he has incurred. In doing so, he loses his brother, his sister, and whatever standing he had in the world. And becomes its enemy, maybe it had been a long time coming, with the loss of the chains that bind her to the world. She just…

Flies. 

So she built herself a new home, where there are more warm hands and even warmer words that comfort him. Soft, worn hands teach him how to sew. A scolding voice tells him off for buying potatoes rather than radishes. Tiny hands that could barely hold anything cling to her robes, and she cuddles close in those cold nights. And thus she lives.

A man in mourning white, with his skin like jade. He was mesmerizing, but there was something about him that seemed untouchable. He was sometimes a friend, but also sometimes an enemy. Or at least he was someone who couldn't understand.

She dreads seeing him, because maybe if they were to meet again, she would never be free again. She will be chained and bound within the depths of his cold mountain. But he was merely passing by, just so he might as well give her an invitation.   

He invites her to a celebration of reds and gold for her sister's son. Her darling nephew, whom she will never meet. For she had done something so horrific and painful. She had killed her sister's husband. The man was arrogant but truly loved her sister. And now his family cries for her blood. To pay for the blood spilled on the ground where slaves were made and where they die.  

She intended to pay the price; there was no question about it. But her new sister, the doctor, and her brother, a ghost of her own making, had offered themselves. They bound her to her bed with needles and bowed. They thanked her for giving them time. Time that should never have been stolen in the first place. And now she has stolen something that should never have been stolen in the first place. So she struggles, screams, and pleads for her brother and sister to free her, to let her pay the price of her mistake, to free them from the cycle of debts and repayment that they have trapped themselves within.

To hear the words, “Thank you, and I am sorry,” were the most painful words he has ever heard. He later breaks free and goes to the city where the sun never falls. All that was left were ashes that had scattered to the four winds. The rage that consumed him was nothing compared to the cold anger of her revenge. It was hot, burning, and so he…

Burns.

He commanded the ghosts loyal to him to destroy everything. The ghosts do so, fueled by his grief and rage. She watches dispassionately until a figure in white challenges her to stop. She pushes her broken body past its limits and fights with everything that she has, recklessly, without care in the world. She cannot be stopped; she knows she will die for this unforgivable sin, but she will continue to do so. She will only stop when she is consumed and left empty.

However, she was stopped. 

What could only be described as his rampage was stopped by his first sister, the one whom he had done great wrong. Clad in white, she called for her younger brother like they were merely playing, and he was not actively killing everyone in the area. He tried to stop, but it could not be done. And in doing so, his sister was killed. 

Then everything turned black.

Everything was silent and heavy, like she was merely floating in the ocean, much like the beach in Okinawa where Satoru had brought them to. She let herself float in this strange limbo, that is, until she sees the man in front of her. It was like looking into a mirror. He merely stood before her with an impassive face, but his eyes watched her like she was a predator waiting to pounce.

She presses her hand against the glass that separates them, not offering forgiveness, but that was never hers to give to herself. He mirrors her action, now their palms lay flat against each other, and oh… She now Understands.

She gives a searching look at his tired, thin face. A guilty smile spreads along her past self's face, and a cautious nod confirms her suspicions. And with that, she knows what to do.

“I am you, and you are a part of me.” A surprised look was evident before a smile that shone like the sun showed itself to her. Maybe it was the relief of his reincarnation accepting him and his sins, or maybe it was something else…

“I am sorry,” her past self says, “but right now…” he begins, looking to the side into the unknown depths of their shared cognition. She nods, looking at the darkness that does not belong to them. 

“...We are close to death,” she finishes, her counterpart turns to look at her, and she can feel his guilt blooming in her chest. “That's why you were able to show yourself,” she concludes, as grey eyes close, the guilt grows within their chest. He takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself for the choice they will inevitably make.                

“If you choose to fight the creature wanting to erase us,” he begins, forcing himself to look at her own hazel eyes. “We will become one, and our cursed energy will return to us fully.” He stands tall as if bracing himself for her hatred, the guilt of making her different from her family for so long. But she shook her head to deny her past self's guilt. The hurt he had caused in his attempt to protect them from more pain.

“What will happen to Megumi and Yuta? To Satoru? If I don't take back our strength?” Her past self tilted his head, smiling, already knowing her answer, chuckles: 

“They're quite hopeless without us, you know.” she nods sagely at that. Her mind is made up, and she steps through the glass boundary to hug him. He holds her tightly, as she whispers:

“You are a part of me, Wei Wuxian; as much as I am you.”

Chapter Text

Megumi always worries about Tsumiki.

It may have started during childhood when they were the only ones that had each other against the world. When they hid in their room when their parents started screaming, fighting, and throwing things. When Megumi’s father left, it was only Tsumiki’s mother for them. And then she left. A time when they starved and scoured the bins behind their school looking for food. When they had to live with the bare minimum- maybe even less- just so that they could survive for another day. 

A time that only they know, a story that only they could but would never tell. A story no one, not even Satoru, would ever know.

So when she smiled at him, it was different. Like something had taken over her body, and used her like a puppet. When she asked to create an additional rule to allow entrance and exit across colony borders, it was damning evidence that he needed to confront the woman in front of him.

Megumi was wary of the person in front of him. The scent of her was of iron, not her usual scent of lilies and old books. The appearance and mannerisms were similar enough. But there was something about her, the way her movements were exaggerated, her voice too high and pitchy. Her smile was too empty.

Megumi knows better.

That empty grin was not the same smile that she painted on when they had no more money and everything was going to shit. It wasn't even the smile that she gives when everything seems to be alright. His sister smiled like the sun in hopes that Megumi wouldn't notice. Even in his faint memories, he knew she only did it in an attempt to protect him…

All that she had done was to protect him, help him become a better person.

The person smiled wider, distorting her face, “What do you mean, Megumi?” She pressed the tips of her fingers to her chest, her mouth inhumanly wide, making her soft features grotesque. “It’s me! Your beloved sister!”

And that was when all hell broke loose when the imposter's hands suddenly grabbed her own throat in a stranglehold. The woman's eyes widened and snarled, “You bitch! I thought I already devoured you!” But it didn't stop the woman's hands from tightening their grip around her neck. “You thought wrong,” the gesture seemed to imply. Megumi didn't have time to process the chaos that had erupted around him. 

Hecouldn'tunderstandwhatishappeningTsumikiwhatishappening? 

He heard a struggle behind him, when someone, it must be Sukuna , not Itadori, had shoved something down his throat. And that was when everything went black for him. 

________ 

Yorozu is pissed.

Kenjaku had sworn to her that the body she would inhabit is ripe for the taking…So why is the brat fighting! She looks deep within this body's soulspace only to be bound by skeletal hands. She was likely within a Domain. A desolate mountain where everything was ravaged and destroyed. Standing before her was a cave with talismans hanging at the entrance, where layers and layers sway along the non-existent winds within the Domain. Whispers, constant chatter of creatures unknown, drive her crazy with the screams and begging that could only be heard in her head.    

She could- should be able to- easily break through this with her power. How confident! She laughed at the foolishness of youth. But when she attempted to use it, she could not feel her cursed energy; only a deep ache in her abdomen. Her body felt heavy, weary like it was pushed beyond the point of exhaustion. “You brat!” She screamed, trashing against her bonds, “You're supposed to be dead!” She tried to form her wings, but her body couldn't -wouldn't- listen to her. Desperation crawls up her throat as she tries to free herself from the hands that seemed to have sealed her technique. Any attempt to use her powers only left her in pain. 

Not that sweet, sweet pain that comes hand in hand with the pleasure of bloodshed and adrenaline. No, this was the pain that came from deep within her bones, the kind that haunts you in your nightmares, that makes you wish death swallowed you whole. She wouldn't couldn't  give up the chance for her to show her beloved Sukuna what it means to love. And nothing will stand in her way. Especially not if some half-dead bitch will take him away from her.

“Oh?” a voice rang, and crimson eyes flashed towards her in the shadow of the cave. A figure steps out of the shadows, with shadows clinging to the edges of her too-large robes. In life, Yorozu was described to be something akin to a predator: tall, broad, and powerful. The would-be vessel (Her target, her mind hissed) in front of her could only be described as prey: petite, thin, and soft. But there was something about the way that she carries herself that makes the predator within the cursed user weary, sensing something older, stronger, powerful. One wrong move, even a single mistaken word, will make the creature before her pounce.

Yorozu braces herself for the strike.

However, instead of a strike, a soft, lily-white hand caressed her face. Graceful fingers lift her face to be met with a kind face, sweet, sweet, brown eyes glimmering with mischief. Or was it anger? Ah, her host is so honest! The curse user is very much aware that those who are honest and earnest are the most dangerous ones. After all, that was what had persuaded her to be persuaded to be killed like a lamb for slaughter. 

“Will you tell me?” the young woman asks, the crimson hue in her eyes seemed to glow brighter. “What is Kenjaku's goal?” How naive! Yorozu attempted to free herself from her shackles. The skeletal hands did not budge even an inch. In fact, they even tightened their hold, likely under the command of the sorcerer in front of her. Fushiguro Tsumiki might not be so naive as she had thought. Yorozu couldn't help but chuckle darkly and say, “Little Miss, isn't everything done for a reason? How did humans create anything? How did these lowly monkeys learn anything?” She tries to lean in closer to whisper mockingly, like the entire situation they are in is nothing but a secret joke: “Curiosity, Little Miss. All Kenjaku wants are answers to satisfy his curiosity.” She giggled at a sudden thought, “ 

An unimpressed look presents itself on her counterpart's face, before how cloyingly deceptive her host is. She couldn't help but let out a laugh at the sheer absurdity of losing the chance to marry Sukuna. And it was actually happening.          

She can already feel that she is fading away. Ah…to be eaten so sweetly and sincerely… The desperation to free herself that claws around her throat makes her heart beat faster, the ecstasy of being trapped by something, someone, that she had completely underestimated. The prey has become the predator! But the soft, melancholic look in the face of the one who is devouring her makes it all the sweeter. She couldn't help but give her little miss a curse for her troubles:

“Be careful now, Little Miss. You might get eaten as well.”

With those final words, Yorozu has disappeared. All that was left was her curse and the woman who had devoured her soul and savored it.

    ________

When Fushiguro Tsumiki had awakened from her…enlightening conversation with Yorozu. She had awakened to multiple swords pointed towards her, and the crimson hue of her eyes met the aquamarine blue of the man who had raised her and her brothers for almost 10 years.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: So Stained in Disaster

From an outsider’s viewpoint, it would seem like a bunch of people pointing various sharp weapons at a teenage girl.

They would be correct. Mostly.

For a sorcerer, the scene is constructed as such: numerous sorcerers of varying levels surrounding a lone unknown. What might be overkill is the appearance of two special grades among the present combatants. It would be excessive against a single unknown adversary in normal circumstances. Although every sense in Gojo Satoru, from his eyes to his heart, was screaming to tell them to step aside and let Tsumiki go.

But Tsumiki hadn’t made any sudden movements, only standing calmly surveying her surroundings. She only watched the strangers around her, calm and amused, like rabbits hopping around in a sunlit meadow. Yuta watches her warily, not sure if the person before him is still the sister that he has known for the past five years. Her eyes, now russet brown as the crimson glow had faded, shone with amusement, an indulgent smile painting her lips. Her eyes darted to those around her as if she were cataloging any possible openings and weaknesses, preparing to strike. But when her eyes meet his, Gojo Satoru already knows.

It is her. Gojo Satoru knows it; he can feel it down to the marrow of his bones. Even his Six Eyes can see her, his daughter, his sunshine. His soul quivered at the sight of her, crying out to finally, finally hold her in his arms. He held out his arms and waited.

As if she couldn’t hold on anymore, she stood and broke through the barrier of his students and allies, straight into his arms with a cry, “Satoru!” The too-familiar weight in his arms only made him hold the young woman closer to his chest. He buried his nose in her hair to breathe in the lily scent of the hair oil he had combed into her hair before everything that had happened in Shibuya.

(It was on her birthday, that dreadful Halloween when Gojo Satoru was sealed in that accursed Prison Realm.)

He reluctantly pulled back to take a closer look at her. Yuta took this as his cue, as he crashed to her side in a tight embrace, like an oversized anxiety-ridden puppy. A happy “Yuta!” cements what he already knows. This is his daughter.

Whatever changes Kenjaku had made, these changes were minimal. Her hair had grown longer, down almost to her waist, and the color had darkened, approaching black. Her skin was paler, giving her the image of a ghost, the haunting beauty that drives men to insanity. She had grown a bit, three inches taller than her previous height of five feet and four inches. But her eyes were still the same, wide and kind, but now they were as searching as his own, for the changes that had happened when they were separated.

Then, as if realizing in a snap, she pulled away from Yuta to grab his arms in panic and asked the question he had been dreading to hear, “Satoru-!” Tsumiki made a distressed sound as she frantically searched for the last member of their family. A question that he dreaded to hear when Yuji and Kurusu had returned with his daughter, but without his youngest.

“Where’s Megumi?”

__________

It was a few years, almost half a decade, before Gojo Satoru had gotten used to the pace of living with the Fushiguro siblings. It was like caring for newly adopted stray cats; they are cautious of the food and affection offered to them. Cautious and fearful, as if they would be abandoned if they made the wrong move. It was a fragile peace in their newly purchased apartment. Satoru would rather take this peace than return to the empty silence of the dorms at school, where a gauge earring is left without a partner, where memories become more distant as the days pass, although just as painful.

That was fine. It was fine.

It was not fine.

The day had started well. Satoru woke up early enough to prepare breakfast and snacks for the kids, and lunch as well. It was going fine enough until a young girl’s scream. This made Satoru check every barrier, every alarm he created, sealed within the home that they had built with tentative trust and cautious words as he rushed into Tsumiki’s room. The room was somewhat neat, all of her books on the shelf and her toys in their respective baskets. What was unusual was the lump under the young girl’s sheets.

“Miki?” he called out, “Are you alright in there?” But when the young girl continued not to answer, she shivered, covered in her comforter. He slowly approaches the young girl like he would a scared kitten. He gathered her sacred-stiff body onto his lap, covers and all, and pressed her against his chest. He rocks her like she were a baby.

But she is.

She is His Baby.

“I’ll protect you, my darling,” He sings to her as Tsumiki breaks into sobs. The Strongest’s heart breaks into pieces at the sound. He continues to rock her gently in the cradle of his arms. He hums and presses kisses into brown locks, now that his little girl manages to bury her face in the crook of his neck. This continues for a while, and Satoru can feel the collar of his sweater was soaked, but it didn’t matter, not when the precious bundle in his arms has calmed down. “I will always be there for you, my Haven. No matter what.”

This makes Tsumiki pull back for her russet eyes to meet his own, her now sniffling nose red and snotty from her earlier cries, “Even from the dark?” He taps her nose with his own, “Especially then,” he promises as he kisses that dear little face rapidly, eliciting giggles to ring in her room.

(This promise was broken because of a madman determined to create chaos wherever he goes.)

__________

After the all too brief introduction and the following lengthy explanation of what had happened, his daughter’s next statement came with a knowing smile that chilled the so-called Honored One to the bone. He tugs her close to him; he fears that she can hear his heart beating too fast in his chest.

He hoped that nothing had changed. Tsumiki is still Tsumiki. But something within him knows that something has changed.

“Sukuna will come to try his hand at killing me.”

But the Six-Eyes does not know what.