Chapter Text
The room is swarmed with dark clad uniforms, each adorned with a golden button save for the royalty. The heavy rain outside the old hall has chased the meeting to start sooner than anticipated, with the superiors being chased by their necks by the higher-up’s sharp standards, and those superiors chasing down principals, kings and queens or other monarchies in order to establish a proper setting. Gathering sorcerers en masse was already an arduous task, having them all behave under the same roof was a different story.
The occupants of Jujutsu Isle are the last to arrive from the rain, the cold atmosphere ushering quietly in the twelve something group of sorcerers. Most are soggy and drenched, rain speckling their coats and hair in splatted patches, except one man, taller than the rest despite his younger face and stark white hair that may confuse an onlooker.
The group finds their seats quickly. The whitehaired man looks about the room unapologetic for their tardiness even though he was the cause. His head is raised high above the rest, and his hands are resting lazily in his pockets. He’s trailing behind their teacher, equally as tall with short buzzed hair, as are the rest of the student sorcerers. A man stands beside him, long black hair tied up at the back of his head. They’re accompanied by a shorter woman, short brown hair cut off past the end of her chin. She stubs a cigarette out with her shoe, stepping on her tiptoes to whisper something to the two of them, receiving a quiet smile, some unheard thing spoken back.
Their group of sorcerers is smaller than the rest, but not atypical for the profession. There are more supervisors and assistants, normal people without cursed techniques, than there are actual men and women practicing sorcery.
Their teacher finally sees them all seated, counting heads as he goes. He gives them all a sharp stare before dissipating from their group to assimilate into the older collection, migrating into the middle of the room toward the round table. His equals are already there, sitting collectively in wait as he pulls his chair free and sits.
“Thankyou for finally joining us, Yaga.” A man greets. It’s a clipped remark sweetened in faux politeness, and it’s not unnoticed by the tardy principal.
“Apologies. The weather held us up. Please, let me not waste anymore time.”
The circle mumbles their cacophony of agreements, some dismissing the apology outright, others nodding their heads in acceptance or outright not acknowledging the apology at all in favour of starting the meeting.
Papers are passed around the circle, the rustling hushing those not seated by intrigue alone. Meetings like these were uncommon, only having occurred once or twice before years and years ago, when the current principals, royalty and other seated people of importance were children. But they had all survived to witness their mistakes and were eager to avoid repeating history.
“Tengen, along with ancient scriptures she’s produced within the past year, have come together to give us ample warning of a threat we, along with the rest of the world, should be afraid of.” Gakuganji begins the meeting promptly.
“A few years from now, we believe five years, a curse will be born with the ability to rival anything we’ve seen, and it’s suspected to become a violent, immovable force against not only our way of life, but humanity itself. The age of humanity is being said to expect its end at the hands of it, and that this curse will usher in the new age of curses.”
“Prophesied?” Someone calls out. The murmur of the room starts quiet, their growing concern muddying the silence until the whole collection of bodies is a swath of chatter. “Why is Tengen only telling us now?” Someone else cries. “Why is it warned about, if it’s some curse can’t it be exorcised?”
Gakuganji lifts his hand to halt the yammering. It takes a moment for the panic to be smothered, but once he can speak clearly again, he continues. “We suspect it will be.. born a human being.”
The room quiets, a hesitant thought glancing each tongue at the idea of human curse. People are muttering softly amongst themselves.
“So which is it?” Someone asks throughout the crowd. “A curse or a human?” Muttering moved through the throng of people like water the rough a river, rushing and quick and seemingly unstoppable and unguided.
“Quiet.” Gakuganji snaps, waiting for the silence to ebb back in. He is a collected, clean and timely man whose pursuit of maintaining tradition and jujutsu sorcery is not rivaled. His ability and determination has seen him revered among some and despised by others.
When the silence finally comes, he continues again. “We’ve gathered here to decide how to stop this plight we’re all about to face.”
“I have a question.” The whitehaired man stands without invitation, unashamed of the heaps of eyes now turned toward him. “Satoru Gojo, Jujutsu Isle and the Gojo Clan –” He begins his honorifics, his name and title like it’s customary to do so in such a setting, but it isn’t required. They all know him by appearance alone, let alone his reputation.
“We all know who you are, Satoru Gojo.” Gakuganji says, “Just ask your question.”
“Right. Why do we have to kill the kid?”
The effect is immediate the moment Gojo’s question has a second to air in the minds of everyone present, as if he had just thrown a heavy stone to watch the water ripple outward. “Who does he think he is!” Someone jeers, accompanied by dry laughter from their elders whose respect for the youthful students had long since soured.
“It’s a curse, Gojo. Built from human greed, hatred, sorrow and anger. It’ll be the same as any other curse, and we should be treating it as such. We kill it to stop it from becoming worse than —”
“But it will be human, or at least half of one.” Gojo interrupts, continuing further after the room huffs at his outlandish idea. “That’s what’s prophesied.. Born physically from a human mother and father, not from cursed energy residuals. Am I right or am I wrong..?”
They look back at the papers, rereading the lines inked there. How Gojo read the page from his seat toward the back of the room is irritating, but he does it anyway and there’s not much of a way to stop him now.
The circle is staring dumb-eyed and furious at the outspoken young sorcerer, muttering dismissals and almost outright shouting them until his teacher finally speaks. “It could be said the curse would resemble a human. It may feel and think as we do, it may not. We.. we can’t say.”
“But it’s not impossible.”
Yaga sighs. “No, it’s not impossible.”
Gojo must feel emboldened because he continues over his superiors as they try to wrangle the conversation back to the slaughter they had all previously agreed upon.
“So it is possible the boy could be just as human as the rest of us?” He gestures to the room flippantly, ignoring the gobsmacked expressions and disdain in the faces of those listening to his sorted ideas. “That he could… choose, distinctively, whether or not he wants to hurt others, right?”
“What’re you getting at, Satoru..?” Yaga tries to steer him back on course to avoid the chiding of the other councilmembers.
“I’m just saying that I think you’re all a bit jumpy to start slaughtering children, that’s what I’m getting at.”
The round table shoots up in fury. Chairs clatter, thrown back in anger as a handful rise to face Gojo headon, shaken by his unbrazen attitude. Voices clamour back and forth, true nature revealed under the scrutiny of a sassy teenager protesting them so openly.
“Yaga–” Gakuganji sneers sharply, “get your pupil under control.”
“Satoru, sit down.” Yaga says.
“Am I wrong, Sensei?” Gojo continues.
“Sit down.” Yaga snaps.
“What do you prefer, Gojo, the lives of a handful of children or that of the entire world?” Gakuganji calls.
“I’d prefer no-one died at all, actually. Especially innocent children.”
“It won’t be innocent.” Gakuganji tries to steer him, but the young sorcerer isn’t convinced.
“Yeah I get that’s what you’re saying but it doesn’t mean that’s what’s true. And even so, the hundreds of other children you’ll be murdering to ensure that the right child dies? Those ones will be innocent. And that’s okay with all of you..? You are all comfortable to stand and say that you are fine with mass infanticide in the off chance we stop one prophecy that could or could not happen?”
“It will happen.” Gakuganji sneers.
“Tengen can’t predict everything.” Gojo huffs dryly, and the room shifts even more. Tengen was practically a god, thousands of years old, immune from disease, age and deterioration. Such casual dismissal was unheard of.
“Watch your tongue —” one of the elders shrieks.
The young white haired sorcerer scoffs. “Oh no, I’m scared,” he mocks under his breath, casting a bemused glance to his peers. Suguru Geto, his black haired friend is not in disagreement with Gojo’s idea, but he’s not one to outwardly oppose their direct superiors either. He tries to tug Gojo’s arm to sit back down into obscurity, but it’s useless.
“Satoru, sit down.”
“I just wanna hear it from them —” Gojo says, ignoring Geto pulling at his sleeve. His tone is clipped, sarcastic and short and it prompts Geto to stand and urge his partner to sit down even more so than before.
“Enough, Suguru, stop —” Gojo says, shaking off Suguru shortly. “Just say it, that’s all I want to hear. Say that your plan is to murder children to stop one monster.”
“Yes.” Gakuganji finally stands, his chair creaking out slowly as he does so. He rests his knuckles on the table, firm and steady as he stares down the unruly student whose loud voice has caused such an irritating disturbance.
“We are going to take and kill any boy born during the predicted month of March to prevent this massacre.”
This makes the room hesitant. They knew that the plan was as said, but to hear it stated plainly, so candidly. That was settled, it seems. The slaughter of hundreds of children spoken about allowed both quells the fire in some and ignites it in others. Lunacy, some think, to commit such an act. Necessary, others deem, for the survival of the many.
“Each leader sat at this table has already been briefed, and the decision is unanimous. The curse will die, and we will sacrifice whatever many children born in the month of March to see that goal through.”
“I’m not slaughtering any children.” Gojo states simply.
He’s elicited a many disgruntled sighs already, but he receives another one as Gakuganji ignores speaking directly to him in favor of addressing the room.
“The culling will occur whether you, or anyone else for that matter, likes it or not. For the betterment of humanity, the survival of humanity, of sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike, these children will die. Those here who are unwilling to do their sworn duty will be removed as sorcerers.”
The room shifts. “Sorcerers unwilling to do their duty will face penalty of curse technique removal, imprisonment, fines and other such punishments. Any sorcerers found harbouring children will face imprisonment or the death sentence. Have I made myself clear?”
“I’d like to see you try,” Gojo scoffs. If it was anyone else saying it, the room would have erupted into laughter, into jeering mocks and ridicule. But it isn’t anyone else who can speak as freely as Gojo can without being chewed out or shunned in their current situation.
“Believe it or not, Satoru Gojo, we have ways to handle you as well, if you so choose to hinder this operation.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” Gojo mocks.
Gakuganji’s temper is only held by a thread of string now and it’s Yaga that saves them all from a premature death. “Enough, Gojo.” He says.
“And this is agreed upon by everyone?” Gojo spits once the noise of the room dies back out.
Yaga answers him this time instead of Gakuganji, one of the voices at the table his student actually respects. “It’s been decided, Gojo. The lives of the many, millions of people, outweighs the lives of a few hundred children.”
The room is dead silent for the first time that night since it began. No one even moves, a button could be dropped and the noise would echo the hall for hours.
“All that being said,” Gakuganji calls finally, “those who wish to leave sorcerer society are permitted to do so now and only now. Once this meeting has ended, you are all sworn to do your duty to the best of your abilities. Those found not doing so will face the aforementioned scrutiny. So, if you wish to leave, do so now, but know this: Once this curse is born, if it is not stopped then and there, the blood it draws will not stain my hands or heart. It will be those here today who are responsible for the deaths of your families, friends, children, loved ones, with their inaction. In five years from now, ten years from now, if this child is not found, nothing will stop it. And I can only hope when it takes your life with its hands that you feel peace in your death, because none of us will mourn you.”
The room is stunned into silence, as if a loud thunderclap has gone over their heads and deafened any thoughts previously had. Doubts are quenched, squashed and stamped out with the weighted words, muttering rising after a moment of reflection of the night's events.
Satoru Gojo is the first to stand. “Well, fuck this.”
Not that he gets very far. Others stand alongside him, around the room pockets of people, stragglers, littering of soldiers, higher ups, sorcerers and assistants find their courage to ostracize themselves from their community to avoid committing a sin they believe is cardinal. Maybe, out of the something sorcerers and soldiers gathered collectively, about twenty stand. Those that do find eyes drawn to them. Some collect their things quickly, say their goodbyes and depart as simply as that. Others are drawn back down by their peers. Some stand but think better of it.
Satoru Gojo, despite the anger under his skin, isn’t allotted to going very far by his own peers. “Satoru, sit down.” Suguru Geto grabs his wrist tightly, urging him back toward the ground.
“You’re not serious —” Satoru spits.
“You cannot change anything if you aren’t involved! Leaving now won’t solve anything down the line!” Suguru seethes out the whisper.
“I could kill everyone here.” Satoru replies plainly. “That would solve it.”
“If you do that, and the boy is what they say, there will be no-one left to protect the innocent.”
“Who cares —” Satoru huffs.
“And if you kill everyone here you will be as bloodsoaked as they want you to be.”
“I won’t partake in it.” Satoru says back, almost quietly.
“Fine but don’t tell them all that.” Suguru urges shortly. “..now — just sit down.”
Satoru hesitates, lifting his eyes from Suguru to the rest of his classmates. None of them can be willing to do this, either, he knows. Otherwise he wouldn’t consider them his peers, his friends. But when he watches each face, a little bit of certainty has drawn down their brows.
Shoko most likely won’t be involved in the slaughter, her technique not suited for combat, but still she makes no protest now. Kento Nanami and Yu Haibara have their heads tucked down between them, muttering. When Kento catches Satoru’s eyes watching him, he shakes his head softly. Haibara doesn’t look.
Toji Zenin hasn’t been enrolled in Jujutsu High for long, a recent outcast excommunicated from the Zenin clan and technically a non-sorcerer, he’s been the topic of gossip in Jujutsu society for some time now, but he seems unbothered by it. He’s on the quieter side, mostly avoiding the class hangouts to relax by himself or wander, but even he looks concerned now. He lifts his head to Gojo and shrugs simply. He didn’t care enough to feel one way or the other about the situation now. He knew the stakes of disagreeing, and he was not prepared to leave Jujutsu society right then and there. So, he too, remains in his seat.
A few minutes later, the room is only slightly emptier than what it was. The victory is not lost on the higher-up’s table, the collection of the conservative old men discussing quietly to themselves as they watch the room shift apart.
“Thank you.” Gakuganji calls as the room dissipates, “Your superiors will brief you on any further details. Dismissed.”
Gojo is watching quietly as Gakuganji shifts among the room, the sorcerer's eyes never lifting from the back of the older man’s balding head. He knows it too, because he scratches there until the goosebumps sprawling up his spine becomes too much to ignore. He drags his attention from his conversation to meet eyes with Gojo across the room. The stare down holds, and Gojo doesn’t waver despite Geto urging him to relax. He wins their staring contest, as Gakuganji breaks his sight and turns away with a disbelieving shake of his head.
The students linger, hesitant. Nanami is the first to relent, Haibara following after him eagerly to escape the meeting. Shoko is next, already lighting another cigarette before she’s out the building.
Toji moves inward though, shifting carefully past Gojo and Geto and then shouldering carelessly through the rest of the sorcerers. If he shoves one to the side, he is not harassed for it. He is protested maybe once or twice, but when they glance to see who it is, they do not bother risking it.
“Eh –” Geto huffs, “Now where is he going?”
Gojo and Geto watch Toji for a little moment, curiosity not escaping them. Toji shifts like a snake through grass. The black haired man slips through the crowd like the air itself, quiet footed and distinct, yet untouched or even noticed despite his tall stature. He’d left the Zenin clan a long while ago now, but everyone had been called for this event, even the unwanted ones such as him.
“Who cares?” Gojo waves his hand, choosing to ignore Toji all together rather than question his actions. “Lets get out of here already before Yaga hits me again for talking out of turn.”
Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo have been practically inseparable since enrolling. Something just clicked between the two, an unspoken thing no one else understands but is stupid to ignore. Geto cannot help the frown that darkens his face as he watches Gojo’s eyes flick across the room. They chase Gakuganji, they chase the other higher ups and royalties. They follow sorcerers, knights, anyone and everything, collecting data.
The rest of the Jujutsu Isle students disperse back from where they came. Gojo finally relents his scrutinizing observation and turns on his heel.
“What about Toji?” Geto asks, turning to look at Gojo. His partner turns back at him lazily, a marked look pinching his white eyebrows down. He shrugs, unbothered as he lifts a finger to point past Geto’s head.
“Come on.” Toji strides past them, his presence never noticed except maybe by Gojo once or twice. He looks disheartened, face sharp and avoidant of eye contact as he shoves his way past the pair.
“What’d you want with Naobito?” Gojo asks.
“I told you to stop watching everything, Gojo. It gives me the creeps.” Toji snarls dryly, moving continuously. The two follow after him almost lazily.
“Well what did you want with him?” Geto asks, “We thought you weren’t associated with them anymore?”
“I’m not.” Toji spits, “I asked the old man a question and he refused to even look at me. So who gives a shit.”
And with that, as quick as he came, Toji Zenin too disappears back out into the dark of the night. Geto and Gojo hesitate for only a second before they too slip into the fray of moving sorcerers, as if they were birds integrating into the migrating flock.
The sorcerers, knights and students disperse back amongst their own groups once outside, swathes of people like rats in shipyards and cities.
Jujutsu Isle is waiting for Yaga, muttering amongst themselves. When their teacher and current head governing official finally rears his head from the fray, it’s only met with questions.
“You heard what was said so don’t make me repeat myself.” Yaga says before they can start to badger him.
“Is it actually serious or not?” Gojo demands dryly.
Yaga’s frown shifts all of their moods from bad to worse. “Tengen is certain this boy will be the downfall of not only jujutsu society but the world. If it wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t even entertain the idea of such a thing like this plan. But —” he sighs, pinching his brow. “It’s the only way we can be.. sure.”
“Murdering all the baby boys born in March five years from now, that’s it? That’s all you idiots could think of, seriously —” Gojo spits at him.
“Satoru.” Yaga stops him finally. “It was Tengen’s order.”
“W-What?”
Geto adds this time. “So what.. there’s no choice at all?”
“You didn’t leave when you were given the chance earlier.” Yaga says, and he sounds almost sad about it. “So yes — Now there is no choice. Five years from today, we will purge the king of curses before he can grow and destroy.. everything.”
“But it’s —” Gojo grits his teeth. “It’s a baby, surely almighty Tengen can’t be scared of a child th—”
Yaga cuts him off. “Tengen isn’t scared.” He says quietly, almost with a certain reverence of fear himself. “She’s terrified.”
That stops them all then, paused at the thought of Tengen, cowering at something she’s seen in the far flung five year future.
“If it makes you feel better, stop thinking of it as a human being. It’s not.” Yaga says finally, before turning back out into the dark to lead them all miserably home.