Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yane knew she was different as early as she was aware of the world. Her parents had made it plenty clear ever since they knew she could understand them. No one in her family knew why she was different. They only knew it was better for her and everyone else in their tiny neighbourhood if she had stayed inside.

So stayed inside she had.

Inside wasn’t bad. There were food and comics and TV shows. She was never bored, only curious.

Even then, her curiosity centred on the imageries from her TV screen like how sweet a flower would smell, how soft the petal was to the touch, how delicate it swayed in the dusk that so many of those people on TV swooned over it, worshipped it as the symbol of beauty.

She asked for a flower once, only to receive one make out of newspaper. She never asked again since lest her mother became upset. Everything she needed was inside, but that couldn’t stop Yane from stealing glances at the wooden steps for the staircase leading down to the world outside.

It was summer when she snuck out of the house. That summer was unbearable compared to the last.

Everything started with dinner. Yane had been hungry all day. She hadn’t want food while the sun was out, feeling too stuffy with the humidity and the heat, but once the last light left, her hunger came back, and the cool night breeze reminded her of forgotten appetite.

She knocked on the door and waited.

She waited until the sun was out again, and until it disappeared again.

“Mom?” She said, sliding the door to the side. It was bad to leave, but she had grown worried.

The door moved by a space enough for her to pass her arm through but stopped. The chain on it clanked from the disruption.

“Mom?” She called, louder this time.

No response came.

Yane swallowed, trying to trick her rumbling stomach with any food she could imagine. She pushed the door a bit harder.

“Dad!” She pushed again. “Mom!”

They usually answered her right away. It had never taken so long for them to say anything. There was no sound from the other end of the staircase.

Bile rose within her. Yane dug her heels to the floor and pulled the door, using her body like a lever to pry it open. It was a heavy wooden thing. She remembered it creaked every time her mother opened it, and her mother only ever opened it wide enough to slide in the tray of food. Like a miracle, it flung to the side, slamming into its frame so hard the wall rattled.

Yane crept outside, tiptoeing down the staircase she never thought was within reach. Below was dark and quiet, unlike the usual blue glow and muffled conversation.

“Mom?” She looked around in darkness, touching everything within sight. “Dad?”

Worry turned into something else, something light, something that shook her entire being with an uncontrollable urge to move. She opened the main door and took in the nostalgic scenery. The air smelled different. It smelled.

Yane stared at the full moon that was out in the sky, wondering why it was so much smaller than the one on TV.

Something called to her. Something like an old friend beckoned her towards it.

There was not a single hesitation. She wanted to go to it.

Yane released her hold on the door and entered the world, not looking back at the dark house behind her. Somehow she had a feeling that even when she return later, no one would be in there to scold her.

The ground felt rough and warm to her feet. She stopped once to watch a family through their window. Fragrance of food stirred her, but she kept walking.

There was no one on the street, unlike those cartoons on TV. She had found it peculiar but paid no mind until she reached her destination.

The shrine stood in darkness, unlit and unlived. It was cold once she passed the gate. Yane shuddered before crouching down near the main structure, clawing out the first chunk of dirt with her hands. It was boring to go through the dirt but the closer she got to whatever it was calling her, the more fervent she felt.

The sky had turned a lighter shade of blue while she dug. Yane wiped her face and made one last effort, brushing the dirt from a wooden box before opening it. She reached inside, tearing through a few pieces of paper and taking out a bow so beautiful it made her breathless.

She held it up above her head, let the sun ray shine on the crimson red colour of the wood. It felt as if she was holding a piece of dusk within her.

“Hello,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

It hummed in her hands, shaking with warmth as though a dog had woken up from its slumber, and waiting for its master.

With the bow out of its place and strung over her shoulder, Yane remembered her next objective: food. She returned to where she came, stopping in front of the house that had smelled delicious. Surely, they had some food they could share.

Wiping the dirt from her hands on her trousers, she fixed her hair and knocked on the door.

Ding dong, it reverberated.

Someone shuffled on the other side.

“Coming!” They called and Yane put on the best smile she could when the door opened.

She flinched, hadn’t expected the neighbour to scream or immediately slammed the door closed.

“Hello!” Yane knocked again, flinching when she heard a shriek on the other side. “Hello, I’m a bit hungry. Could you give me some food? My parents are not in right now–”

“Go away!” Her neighbour yelled. “Get out of my house!”

She pressed her face against the door. “It’s me! I’m the Hamadas’ kid. We live just over there.”

There was no reply, only a hushed sob and ragged breath from within the house. Yane sat down on the front porch, musing. Maybe the neighbour was simply surprised to see her after she had dug up some dirt. But dirt could be washed away, and she wasn’t planning on eating with her hands. It would be awfully rude to except food with dirty hands.

Determined the neighbour might need sometimes to prepare the meal, Yane spoke at the door.

“Are you getting me food? I’ll wait here, okay? I don’t have to come in! My parents are not home right now so I’m hungry.”

Time passed, accompanied by hissing from inside and sometimes sounds resembling furniture falling over. Yane picked at the vibrant green of the lawn, her nose crinkled at the earthy scent which spread whenever she plugged a leaf out of the dirt.

Eventually it became hotter, and Yane moved closer to the edge of the wall where there was enough shadow to not burn her feet when they touched the ground. She leaned on the surface, groggy.

She must have fallen asleep because the next moment Yane opened her eyes, the sky was no longer blue but a deep shade of orange. She slurped back her saliva. Oranges sounded good.

The next thing she saw was a stranger, looming over her. The orange shade reflected in his round sunglasses. He wore a simple thin blue shirt and black trouser and looked like those musical misters on the TV.

“Hello,” she said, hopeful.

“Hello,” he replied.

They watched each other for a while before Yane asked from her crouch on the ground.

“Do you live here? Can I get some food?”

“I don’t live here,” the stranger replied with a grin.

“Does that mean I can’t have food?”

He shook his head and dropped down in front of her.

“You can,” he said and pointed. “If you let me see that little toy on you.”

She beamed at his answer and pass the bow over her head, placing it on his outstretched hands.

“I want udon. With lots of tempuras!”

“You can have as much food as you want if you come with me,” the strange man said.

He stood, waiting for her to follow. Yane grabbed the bow, pulling it back towards her. This stranger didn’t feel icky, unlike the Yane’s neighbour inside the house, but the TV said she should not follow strangers.

Besides, he promised the food if she showed him the bow. He hadn’t.

“I can’t go with you, mister. It’s better for me to stay inside.” She insisted, struggling against the man’s hold on the bow. “Let go.”

“Why is it better for you to stay inside?”

Yane huffed. “I don’t know. Mom and Dad said it was better. Give me back my bow. It’s mine.”

He let go, backing away from her. Something was different about his demeanours, but she couldn’t make sense what. He felt different now. Like those big storms with lightning and loud thunders.

Yane held the bow close.

“Yane Hamada-chan,” the scary man said. She stared at the way his hair changes colour with the sky. “How old are you this year?”

Yane thought about the question. Nothing came up. Why did he want to know her age? Even her parents never told her. It must have been unnecessary. Like birthdays. Although she would like to try a birthday if it was okay. Those looked fun on TV. Everyone always seemed so happy.

If she had a birthday, maybe her mother would look a bit less sad every time Yane saw her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Are you one of those kidnappers they talked about on TV?”

The man cackled, so suddenly that it startled Yane. She shrunk, eyeing the little gap between him and the fence’s opening. If she ran to her house really fast and locked her door, he wouldn’t be able to come in. It was just down the road after all.

The man tiled his head.

“And how long have you been inside?”

She prepared herself.

“I don’t know.”

The man made a sound like he was humming, and she took to the exit, rushing past him. Only when she felt the collar of her shirt tightening around her neck that Yane realised, she had been hauled up like a cat, suspended away from her escape by her clothing.

“Let go!”

She coughed, reaching backward to hit the man’s hand.

He snorted.

“Anything else you want aside from udon?”

“No!” Yane fussed. “Let go!”

“Not even dumpling? Or meat? Or candy? Our dumplings are good.”

Her struggled dwindled. He must have sensed it too. The man continued.

“Especially the pizza ones. The sweet outer lazy paired with the salty cheese and tomato sauce inside. It’s so puffy and warm that you won’t even feel cold in the winter if you eat one.”

Yane stopped. “Really?”

Maybe he wasn’t that bad. Kidnapper only usually offered candies. He said she could eat other things as well, and she could always run away when he was paying money if he tried to kidnap her.

The man grinned, “Really. Do you want to come with me now?”

She contemplated. A meal sounded good, but her parents would be upset if they found out she went outside. Yane felt heavy at the thought.

“I can’t.” She admitted. “My parents will scold me.”

“It’s okay. They won’t.”

She looked up at the stranger, squinting her eyes to see if he was trying to lie. Liars would always give themselves away one way or another, the television man had said.

“Are you sure?”

His smile widened, and he spoke with a voice so calm and playful he returned to looking like the musical mister.

“Of course. Your parents won’t be upset in the slightest. After all, they’ve decided to abandon you.”

Two udon bowls later Yane found out what ‘abandon’ meant. She hadn’t believed it at first, but after they got off what the strange mister named Satoru called a ‘bullet train’, and she couldn’t see her parents anywhere in the sea of people Yane trusted she wouldn’t be scolded.

Like ever from now on, Satoru had promised.

‘Abandon’ was a nice thing. Satoru said it meant she wouldn’t have to be inside anymore, and no one would yell at her even if she wasn’t inside. He said she could eat as much as she wanted and go wherever she wanted if she let him know. The only thing about it was that she couldn’t see her parents either, but most of the time she couldn’t see them anyway.

He had also insisted that they were happy when Yane asked so maybe ‘abandon’ was just what they needed. Maybe they had gone on a trip to have the birthday.

Satoru’s house was big, much bigger than her own and he had so many people in the house. It was always Yane, her mom, and her dad so she bounced and bowed to anyone passing her on their way in, and they kindly bowed back. Satoru always waved his hand at them, funnily looking like he was swatting away fruit flies.

“You need a bath,” he had said and directed one woman to lead her away.

It was a struggle to leave the bow with him but he had gotten her udon and swore on his name to give her a big box of candy so he wouldn’t break his promise. He was right about her parents not scolding her. He must be a man of his words.

The bathroom was as big as her house, and while the woman entering with her was talking about how filthy Yane was and how stupid it was for her to ask about the smell of the shampoo, she scrubbed and washed Yane and soon enough the bath was over.

Yane stood in front of a mirror, giddy at her reflection. She had only seen people talking about mirrors on TV and had always found its ability to show the image of those standing in front of it to be fascinating.

“Stand still” commanded the woman as she moved the scissor up and down Yane’s hair. As the hair fell, they tickled, causing Yane to squirm.

The woman finished with a soft brush, pushing all the raven black hair from Yane’s body.

“Wear this,” the woman placed some clothes before her: a simple short-sleeve hoodie, kaki trouser, and a pair of socks. “These are too good for you.”

Yana picked up the clothes and slid into them with ease. They were big and comfy and smelled like what she imagined the sun would smell.

She followed the woman through a corridor, flinching when the woman snapped at her for lollygagging about, watching the garden as if she was ‘some idle sloth’. Yane shuffled after the woman, unable to get the picture of a fountain inside a garden out of her mind. Satoru’s house was exciting, much more so than any house she had seen in the cartoon.

“Master,” the woman knelt outside a pair of white sliding doors. The paper on it shone with muted glitter.

Yane reached for the surface, wondering how it would feel to the touch. The woman slapped her hand away and proceeded:

“The child is here.”

“Okay!” She heard Satoru said on the other side as he slid the doors to the side. His eyes were covered with bandages now. “Oh! You cut your hair! You look like a zashiki-warashi now.”

Yane blushed. “I do not! Did you hurt your eyes? Why are you bandaging it?”

Satoru laughed and ruffled her hair.

“I’m fine.”

He hung the bow on her again and gesture her to come along.

“Put on your shoes,” he said pointing to a pair of sneakers.

She complied, happy that the fabric hugged her feet. Every step felt like she was walking on top of her mattress even though she was walking on the ground.

“From now on, you’re going to live in a school. There are a few kids of your age living there as well. You’ll study with them, but before that, we’ll teach you how to read and write.”

Yane pouted. “I know how to read and write.”

“Oh, that’s very good!” Satoru clapped. “But you’ll need to read and write more difficult stuffs from now on so you’ll have to learn those difficult stuffs too before you can sit in the same class as the other kids.”

That was the first time she heard there was more stuff to learn. Difficult stuffs. Even stranger that there were other people who knew these difficult stuffs already.

Yane huffed.

“Okay. If I study at the school, then I can eat as much as I want right?”

“Yep!” Cheered Satoru. “So, we’re going to that school right now. We’ll have you take a test first and then we’ll give you a room to stay.”

She stopped walking. “But you said I don’t have to stay inside anymore.”  

Satoru turned to her.

“You can come out of the room any time you want. Talk to anyone you want. People can also enter your room if you want. You can also chase them out of your room if you want. You can leave the door open too if you want. It’s going to be your room and you can do anything with it.”

She squinted at him, looking for any hint that he might be lying. After a thorough scan, she nodded and walked to his side.

“Okay,” she said.

They exited from the same entrance. Yane yelped at the sight of a black car parking outside of the house.

She ran towards it, pressing her face against the window. The surface was smooth but glossy and it made funny noises when she rubbed her face against it.

The door opened and outstepped a man, older than Satoru. His voice unstable as he spoke:

“Gojo-san?”

“Don’t worry about it. She did the same thing with the bullet train,” Satoru said, waving like he was swatting imaginary flies again. “It’s the first time she saw a car.”

“It’s not!” Yane protested. “I saw them plenty on TV.”

“Is that so?” Satoru cooed and opened the door for her. “Then, how about we get in and ride it, Yane-chan?”

She was breathless with excitement. They were going to ride a car. A real car.

“Can we?” she squeaked and entered. “Is this my car?”

“No, it’s not.” Satoru answered much to her disappointment. “But you can ride it if you study at the school. Sounds good?”

Yane nodded.

Satoru leaned towards the driver, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Ijichi, did you bring the stuff?”

Their driver fumbled, reaching over to the seat next to him.

“Yes,” he said, passing a box over his shoulder. “Though I didn’t expect you to–”

“It’s not for me.” Satoru snatched the box and placed it in Yane’s lap. “Here you go. Candies. As I promised.”

She opened the lid, running her hands through the individual plastic packages, arguing with herself on which flavour would be best to eat first.

“Just pick which ever you want.” Satoru patted her head and took one of the candies to himself. He looked to the small rectangular mirror, popping the sweet into his mouth, and mumbled.

“Drive, Ijichi.”

Chapter Text

“Mister,” Yane whined. “Are we there yet?”

The more they walked the further this school seemed to be. She didn’t expect them to stop at the foot of a mountain but once Satoru started walking Yane was convinced.

It had been fun at first. She had kept asking him about some of the flavours printed on the package with characters she hadn’t seen before. They must have been the difficult stuffs he mentioned.

Then the walk dragged on as they climb higher, where Yane had to  until he manoeuvred then into a narrow stone path, lit by old lamps on both sides.

“Almost there,” Satoru said but he kept walking. “And you need to start addressing me as sensei. I’ll be your teacher at the school.”

They passed through a large gate into a yard, much like the one at Satoru’s house. There were small buildings around the yard, making a U shape. Satoru gestured to the building in the middle and Yane entered, leaving her sneaker outside.

The inside of the building was all wood, illuminated by candles left within boxes carved into a few pillars.

Yane almost squealed at the sight before her. Mountains and mountains of stuff animals lying around a different man. This one was bigger than Satoru.

He looked up from the teddy in his hands and Yane stared, wondering why someone would wear sunglasses indoor.

“Are you Yane Hamada?” He spoke.

She looked to Satoru who placed a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s Principal Masamichi Yaga,” he said. “Go on, introduce yourself.”

“Hello,” she began, creeping closer to a big stuffed dog. It was purple and had the fluffiest looking mane. “My name is Yane Hamada.”

She knelt next to the dog, petting the fabric, and smiled when it moved. It twirled then jumped side to side, drawing a surprise laugh out of her.

“Yane-chan. Yane-chan, are you listening?” Satoru’s beckon called her back to him.

She looked up, seeing him waving for her to come over. Giving the purple puppy a longing look, she trotted to Satoru and the principal.

“Yane-chan, can you tell us where you found this bow?”

Yane tugged on the bow string and nodded.

“I dug it up. I found it in the ground.”

Satoru roared with laughter, clutching his side. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled like he had eaten a stomach full of udon.

“That would explain your rat-like appearance. Who would have thought the infamous Hama clan’s weapon would have been found simply by digging.”

“And how did you find this weapon?” The principal wasted no time to ask.

“I just dug it up.”

Satoru roared again.

“Yane-chan,” he said. “Principal Yaga wants to know how you know where the bow was. It was confusing, wasn’t it? Sorry about that.”

She wasn’t sure what had been so funny for Satoru since Principal Yaga was not laughing at all. He didn’t seem like he was amused in one bit. If anything, he appeared annoyed.

Yane pursed her lips together and held out a handful of candies to the principal. He stared at them before taking and placing the candies on the floor next to him.

“Did someone tell you about where the bow was?”

Yane shook her head.

“The bow told me where it was,” she said. “I just followed the direction. I have to.”

“You have to?”

She nodded. “Once you made a promise, you can’t break it. Mom said so.”

The air turned cold, so much so that Yane scrambled away from the principal and hid behind Satoru. He didn’t look at all bothered by the sudden heaviness in the room even though Yane could barely breathe.

She clutched onto his jacket. The deep navy fabric smelled like the hoodie she was wearing. She pulled the hood over her head, hoping to feel a bit of warmth.

“Yane-chan.” Satoru’s voice was sweet but cold. “Did you mom say what would happen if the promise were broken?”

She nodded into his back and muttered. “She said the bow would break, and I would break.”

“I see,” said Satoru. He sounded more cheerful now and it became easier to breathe. “Well, that was very brave of you to tell us all of this. Let’s see. Are you hungry?”

He chuckled when she nodded again.

“All right then! How about you take this little fella here” Satoru pointed to the purple puppy “and he will lead you to the student’s dorm where you can get more food? I’ll join you after I have a little chat with the principal.”

As if it understood what Satoru commanded, the purple puppy stood up and offered its hand to her.

Yane took the creature’s paw, squeezing into its fabric and bowed when the puppy bowed to the principal.

The road to the dorm wasn’t as long as the one up to meet Principal Yaga, but it had a lot more turns and corridors. There more and more building wherever Yane looked.

Eventually they stopped in front of one of those buildings. It was big but the door was small and looked like the door to rooms in apartment buildings.

Yane twisted the door, hearing it groaned to a close after she entered.

The purple puppy followed her inside, leading her towards a lit room by the end of a long hallway. The floor creaked as they passed but the smell emitting from her destination drew her focus towards it.

The room was simple. It had a large kotatsu in the middle, a TV mounted to the wall and a big plate with rice balls on the kotatsu, still steaming.

Yane let go of the purple dog’s hand and took a rice ball with both of hers. The smell made her drool, and the pretty shine of the white rice was almost fantastical.

She dug in, giggling in delight at the explosion of taste in her mouth.

The soft, subtle sweetness of the rice paired perfectly with the creaminess of the mayonnaise and the salty tuna. There was a cup of cool oolong tea next to the plate, so Yane grabbed the beverage, washing the food down with the refreshing wave of liquid.

Half-way through a second rice ball, a piercing scream tore through the silence of the room.

“FISH FLAKES!”

The volume made her jump. Food sprung from her mouth back into the plate, mixing with the oolong tea she was drinking.

“CAVIAR!!!”

The voice screamed even louder.

Yane turned around. A boy stood in the hallway; his hands balled into fists. There were drawing near the corner of his mouth. His face was beet red from anger, practically seething as he glared down at her.

She backed away from the kotatsu, crawling to the furthest wall.

Or at least she wanted to.

“Don’t move,” the boy had said and despite her will, Yane’s body suspended in motion, trapped mid-crawl.

She heard footsteps and yelling. Her heart drummed louder the closer she heard heavy footsteps drew near. Hot flashes ran through her body. Yane wanted to call Satoru. He told her to follow the puppy for food and she did. Why were this boy so angry when she was only doing what Satoru said?

“What is it, Inumaki-kun?!”

“Fish flakes! Mustard leaf! Caviar!”

The boy, spouting nothing but rice ball fillings each time he shouted, walked over; he pulled the hood off her and tilted his head. His eyes bore into hers, questioning.

Yane heard something roared inside her, like a whistle ripping through the air. She saw a shadow casted onto the mat, claw-like shape coming closer and closer.

Then everything disappeared. The breathlessness, the aching force keeping her trapped in her body snapped like a toothpick.

Yane dropped to the floor but pushed herself up when her stomach twisted. She gagged, tears poured from her eyes as a sour and bitter taste overwhelmed her tongue.

“CAVIAR!!”

The boy next to her jumped, stumbling backward into the kotatsu where his body hit it with a loud, painful thud. He groaned, holding his side.

“Gojo-sensei,” someone said.

“Yuta-kun, mind getting us a mop and some… anything used to clean vomit I guess?” Satoru said.

Yane whipped around, rushing towards Satoru. He held her at a distance by the hood and smiled, turning his face away.

“Yane-chan. Yane-chan, wait. Let’s wipe your face first, okay? Imunaki-kun, mind getting us a bucket and a glass of water?”

Inumaki scurried away before coming back with the same haste carrying what Satoru had requested.

Yuta, the other boy dressed in a simple black T-shirt and grey pants, returned, groaning and seemingly close to tears as he cleaned what Yane had just emptied from her body.

Satoru sat her at the kotatsu, handing her the glass of water and some pocket tissue for her to wipe her lips after she rinsed her mouth into the bucket.

The boys, finished with their tasks, settled down on the opposite side and stared at her. Yane gulped, feeling another onslaught of nausea bubbling in the pit of her stomach when she saw Inumaki’s face.

“Yuta Okkotsu-kun, Toge Inumaki-kun,” Satoru gestured to them. “They are both first year at the school who will be studying with you after you finished your special lessons, Yane-chan. Boys, this is Yana-chan from the fallen Hama clan! Say hi!”

Something dropped on the floor and Yane looked up; her eyes widen at the gigantic walking panda. She wanted to jump onto it and try hugging it but stopped when she saw a girl standing by with face as red as a tomato.

She looked even angrier than Inumaki.

The girl’s mouth twisted until Yane could barely see her lips.

She inhaled, and then in the loudest voice Yane had ever heard, released a resounding “WHAT THE FUCK!”.

They took her to a different room. Her room, they had informed when she entered, was on the second floor. It was the last one, at the end of the hallway.

Yuta had been told to stay with her while the rest of the group went with Satoru. He hadn’t spoken ever since they entered the room but whenever she glanced over at him sitting on the chair from her bed, he cracked a smile.

His smile was strange. Crooked. Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to smile or not.

“Sorry for startling you,” he said at last. “Inumaki-kun was pretty upset that you ate” he winced “and then vomited his dinner.”

“But sensei said I could have food,” Yane defended.

“I guess he did. But I think it would be better if you still apologise to Inumaki-kun.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a couple of candies. There was only ten left now. Yane counted three before adding two more and held it to Yuta.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“How about you tell him directly?” Yuta looked to the door. “Inumaki-kun, did you guys finished talking to Gojo-sensei?”

Inumaki nodded. “Salmon.”

“Come on, Hamada-san,” Yuta urged.

Yane slipped off the bed and inched towards Inumaki how she saw the kids move to pet a cat. She kept her head down lest he screamed again. With her fist full of candies, she shoved them into his hand and mumbled.

“I’m sorry.”

“Salmon salmon,” said Inumaki.

Yane looked up. She couldn’t see the lower half of his face now that he had covered it with a black mask, but it didn’t feel like he was angry at her anymore. She was a bit sad, however. She wanted to see the drawings on his face.

Inumaki sat on the floor, opening the candies as he listened to Yuta speak. Yane glanced over when Inumaki pulled down his mask. Those drawings really were pretty.

How nice it was that he got to have those drawings. Yane wondered if she could one day get them as well.

“Hamada-san,” Yuta said. “Where did you study before coming to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech?”

“Fish flakes. Fish flakes.”

Inumaki nudged him.

“Oh, erm,” Yuta mused. “What about your family? Do you have any sibling or are you an only child?”

“Fish flakes. Fish flakes.”

Inumaki continued, making an X with his arms. His blonde hair sparkling under the light was such a mesmerising sight Yane couldn’t peel her eyes off it. The hair looked to be growing all over the place but something in her was sure it would be soft to the touch.

“Why does he keep saying that?”

The question came out before she could stop it.

“Is he trying to ask for rice ball? I don’t have it. Everything I ate came out.”

“Oh, no no.” Yuta chuckled. “Inumaki-kun came from a family of curse speech users so he’s using rice ball fillings to make sure no one is hurt. Remember when you couldn’t move? That’s because he told you not to move. Curse speech users can command others to their will. But Inumaki-kun isn’t trying to do that right now so he’s saying something else.”

“That means he’s very kind then,” Yane said, recalling an episode of cartoon she had seen. “When you’re doing something nice because you want people to be happy. That’s called being kind.”

She handed Inumaki another candy.

“Good kids are kind. Yuta-kun said Inumaki-kun is kind so Inumaki-kun is a good kid. Inumaki-kun should get a reward.”

Yuta smiled.

“Of course.” He eyed the bow on her. “Would you like to put the bow on the table? It looks uncomfortable.”

Yane moved away, shaking her head.

“It wants to stay with me.”

“It wants to say with you?”

“It does, Yuta-kun.” Satoru entered, followed by the girl who he introduced as Maki and her panda who he introduced as Panda. “Yo,” it had said, much to Yane’s excitement.

While Maki and Panda joined Inumaki on the floor, Satoru stood by the wall as he addressed all of them.

“Yuta-kun, the rest of the group will fill you in later but as most of you have learned, Yane-chan’s situation is a bit distinct. There is a Binding Vow between her and the Hama clan’s bow.”

“Wait did you say a Binding Bow?” Yuta raised his hand.

“Yep,” Satoru said. “The Hama clan wanted to triumph over the three sorcerer families so as a last-ditch effort, they created a unique cursed tool. One that has a will of its own, the same one you see right now that was stolen and sealed away. A Special grade cursed tool that can only be used by someone with Hama’s blood.”

“But isn’t she a grade four right now?” Maki spat. “Isn’t it impossible for her to be able to master a Special grade cursed tool at this level?”

“The problem isn’t whether or not it’s possible.” Satoru wiggled his hand. “The problem is there’s no other way but to make it a reality.”

“What are you even on about?” Maki protested. “You can’t just turn the impossible into reality even if it’s you, sensei. Skills aside, there will be people vying after the bow. It’s easier to just hide her here and keep her quiet.”

The room fell silent.

Satoru moved to the bed and sat down. He unwrapped a candy Yane didn’t know he had taken and flipped the sweet into his mouth, flicking his white hair with his finger when Yane clapped.

“You’re right,” he continued. The candy puffed underneath his left cheek. “Truth to be told, those old geezers and Kyoto campus want her. Kicking or not. I’m gonna be frank, if they can’t use her, you know what will probably happen. Wouldn’t it be wasteful to lose a Special grade cursed tool and such a lovely classmate?”

“Even if you say that…” Panda said. He slumped, fiddling with his feet.

Maki huffed. She crossed her arms and raised her chin up at Satoru.

“So, you want to bank on a near impossible future? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Actually, Maki-san,” Yuta raised his hand. “I kind of agree with Gojo-sensei. Hamada-san should be allowed to decide for herself.”

“Salmon…” Inumaki sighed.

Yane looked at each of them. Their expressions were unfamiliar, not quite sad but not happy. Anymore and their faces would looked like scrunched up papers.

Satoru clapped, bringing all their attention to him.

“You’re not quite right about that, Maki. I’m banking on my students’ ability. I’d like you to train Yane-chan so she could use the weapon–”

“What did you just say!?” Maki shrieked.

Satoru continued without missing a beat “–while the rest of you takes turn to stay with her in case the worst-case scenario happens. Show her around the school or just think of her as a tag-along. Your very own little attachment.”

“Is she a human or a tumour?” Maki rolled her eyes. “Why do you even think she’ll be able to learn from me? Look at her.”

As if he had been waiting for the question, Satoru smirked and stood.

“Well, for starter. She can’t see curse energy, just like you.”

And as if that alone was good enough of an explanation, he left, an echo of his words lingering in the hallway.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” he had said.

Yane wasn’t quite sure what he had meant by “it” but judging by the increasingly unhappy looks from Maki, whatever “it” was could not have been a good thing.

Chapter Text

Satoru shifted his weight from left to right as he listened. Sometimes he had to remind himself these blabbering idiots were regarded to with respect and unnecessary hiccups would result in nothing but troublesome days ahead. He wondered if the cowards talking behind their doors know how foolish they looked.

Higher-ups, my ass, he thought gingerly.

If they had borne any resemblance to the title which they held so dear, they would have been more than eager to show their faces, to take responsibility.

He rolled his eyes, amused that these geezers were none the wiser to his show of attitude.

Sometimes dealing with annoyance like them was required. It hadn’t meant Satoru did any more than tolerating their boring lectures and commands.

“Like I said, the Hama’s curse tool is safe and sound within the Tokyo Jujutsu High,” he groaned. “You wanted it retrieved. It’s retrieved.”

“Enough with your attitude,” the geezer to his left raised his voice. “You know very well why the Hama clan was a sensitive matter. Need I remind you what they have done to warrant their demise.”

He hummed, “If I remember correctly, they were contacted to work in the background and then disposed of once they outlive their usefulness.”

“Satoru Gojo!” The geezer shriek, putting a satisfied smirk on Satoru’s face.

For all the damages they have done along with the regulations they claimed to maintain, these buffoons had been allowed to run the show for too long without any accountability. Fear and incompetence were the sole reasons they could only hiss at him even though they most like wanted to see him on his knees.

How ironic.

As much as they enjoyed doing cosmic math, hiding behind “the greater good” to disregard the individual, toying with another’s life as they see fit, they couldn’t help but hesitate when it came to him. An individual whose life was untouchable to them.

Yane-chan, you’ve got yourself some nasty eyes keeping watch over you, Satoru mused.

Then again, that also included him.

“There there,” he soothed the seething potential sitting case of aneurysm before continuing. “Just because the child was born to a family of criminals” he wiggled his fingers and air quoted “does not mean she will grow up to be one.”

“Regardless, Yane Hama poses a potential risk to our world.”

“Everything poses a threat to you guys.” Satoru shoved his hands into his pocket, playing around with a few candies he hadn’t bothered to take out. “Listen, if we remove whatever we don’t know how to handle then one day we’ll be left with nothing but useless junk. Yane Hama might seem like a potential risk, but Yane Hamada isn’t. Monitor her if you’re so concerned.”

He turned for the door.

“Our opinion still stands, Gojo.”

Satoru stopped. “So does mine,” he said. “If you need assurance, I’ll handle it if she ever become a threat.”

“Be wary of your own arrogance, Gojo Satoru.”

He fought a snort when he heard the geezer.

“Please,” said Satoru. “Who do you think I am?”

It was a nice day outside. Despite the sun, the air outside was dry and with every breeze came with a refreshing chill. Her first one month passed like a whirlwind. Between the “special curriculum” and “sorcerer training” provided by Satoru, Yane had been cooped up in her room for most of the time except during combat training.

Everything was new and difficult. The more she saw how her four classmates seamlessly response with flawless execution to the cursed energy training, the more Yane was convinced she had been the weakest link in the group. Although Yuta had been so unbearably kind as he did his best to explain his own method to manipulate cursed energy, the effectiveness of his help had only been limited to non-sorcery academic subjects.

But Yuta wasn’t with them today. He had left for the Exchange Event at Kyoto, leaving her with Maki, Inumaki and Panda. One seemed to dislike her, one seemed to avoid her, and the other was very soft but couldn’t help her much either.

Maki hadn’t been Yane’s favourite. She always spoke as if she had a fish bone stuck in her thoart and it got worse every time Yane asked her for permission to pet her panda. Asking for permission was a good thing, but she even got mad at something good, so when it came to combat training which Maki was very good at, it wasn’t Yane’s favourite time.

“Hey…” Maki spoke, her voice levelled but the frustration on her face was evident. “Your cursed tool is a bow, isn’t it? How come you’re shit at target practice?”

Yane kept her eyes trained on the grass. Her nose stung. She could sense the tears coming with the lump in her throat. It was as if her mouth has been sewn shut. Yuta had complimented her so much in the last month for the improvement in her vocabulary, yet in front of Maki, Yane had no idea what the right word would be. It was a repeat of Maki getting angry, Yane crying, then Maki even angrier because she had cried. Maki was difficult. Maki was a bad kid. But it was true that the thing Maki could do, Yane couldn’t, and Yane couldn’t help but felt she was even worse than the bad kid.

“Stop crying. You didn’t come here to cry, did you? You came here to learn how to stand up for yourself.”

Maki’s words were matter of fact, but they sounded disappointed.

The arrow was new, the running was tiring, and the day was always hot yet none of this seemed to matter to Maki. If anything, Maki seemed more determined to push Yane to do it.

Yane turned away, walking out of the training field as she ignored the loud calls from Maki demanding her to return.

She passed Panda and Inumaki, both sitting on the steps as they watched her stumbled through the exercise like a hapless child.

Good for them, must be nice to be so good at the simplest task for a sorcerer.

She walked until the heaviness in her chest subsided. Once she finally stopped, Yane looked up, wiping the tears welling in her eyes.

“Tuna tuna.”

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around.

Inumaki stood behind her, enigmatic as always with half his face covered up. He beckoned with his hand, and she hesitated. If she had been honest, she didn’t know what he wanted from her. He always kept his distance from her, watching from afar without a word but had no problem whatsoever when he talked to his friend. He was happier with them alone than when she was around.

“What?”

“Tuna tuna,” he insisted.

She approached, unsure of his plan.

Inumaki pointed to the back of their dorm, and she followed. He only stopped to fill a can of water before walked again, each step filled with purpose.

The moment they arrived, the bundle of envy and anger in her disperse like soap bubble on contact. Yane inhaled, surprised by the mixture of pleasing scents. Colours shone under the summer sun as the flowers sway upon the faint touch of wind.

Inumaki stepped towards the nearest crate, touching the soil, and nodded. He made way through each crate, repeating the action and pouring water over only a few crates as he went.

As he stopped at the last crate, he beckoned Yane to join.

She walked up next to him and leaned down when she saw him pointing at something in the crate. From up the soil, a tiny, fresh green sprout stood next to the splendid, fully grown yellow line of blooms. Inumaki turned to Yane, pointing at her, then again at the sprout.

Yane froze, the indication sank into her like the warm showers after training sessions. It was different from the prideful joy she felt at Yuta’s compliments or Panda’s thumbs-up. It was quieter and it sunk deeper.

“Thank you,” she managed with down-casted eyes.

“Salmon.” He replied and her heart skipped a beat when she looked to him and saw him watching her, hints of a smile on his lips. The lines of marking on his face moved with the smile.

Yane flushed, moving to the shadow to escape the summer heat. She kept glancing over at the corner of his lips, scolding herself in her mind for wanting to trace her fingers along those marks.

“Ah! There you are!” Satoru cheered, sending Yane clutching her chest thinking her heart wanted to evacuate. 

A small, white paper hung from his wrist, swinging side to side as he waved at them.

“Yane-chan! I’ve got a present for you!”

They gathered at the common room. Satoru set the bag down and Yane took the box inside it out to see. Maki and Panda brought them drinks, cold Oolong tea straight from the fridge.

As the former set Yane’s cup down, she gave Yane a quizzical look but said nothing.

A glossy, sunflower yellow phone lay neatly in its case when Yane opened the box.

“This is mine?” She asked, lifting the phone onto her hand and flipped it open. Her heart swelled when a matching yellow dog greeted her on the screen.

“Isn’t flip phone a bit outdated nowadays?” Panda commented.

“Why?” Satoru cooed. “Isn’t it nice and easy to use? Besides, you’re matching with me now!”

He pulled out his phone, placing them next to each other. His was black and glossy. Yane thought the colour suited Satoru.

“Oh, I already registered my phone number in there,” he added. “Just hold 1 to dial for me. Get it? Cuz I’m the strongest. I’m number 1.”

A snort escaped her.

Yane covered her mouth in embarrassment. It was awfully rude to laugh at one’s teacher. Especially when he just gifted her a whole new phone.

Satoru patted her head, his excitement dimmed into gentle confident.

“Now when you need help, you know how to reach me.” He retracted his hand. “Happy birthday, Yane-chan.”

She stared at him, stunned. Her birthday, she thought, realising how foreign the word was. Her first birthday present.

Unfamiliar emotion rose within, something like sadness, something like content. For the first time since she arrived, the dorm didn’t feel like a temporary lodging.

The TV lied. Those people smiling on their birthday were all lying.

Yane sobbed, clutching the phone to her chest.

“Fish flakes, fish flakes,” she heard Inumaki said as he patted her back.

“Why you gotta go and make her cry on her birthday!” Maki protested. “Why didn’t you tell us before hand?”

“Rich of you to say!” Panda interjected. “Didn’t you make her cry too? You meanie.”

“Shut up!” Maki slammed her fist the kotatsu, but nothing she did could have stopped Panda from drawing the string of singsong “meanie” out which joined forces with a barrage of headshakes and disapproving “Tuna mayo”.

Maki’s face reddened. She held her hand out towards Yane.

“Give me your phone,” she said. “I’ll record my number. Maybe I can send you some training videos later so you can rewatch them and practice on your own–Stop crying already!”

“Maki,” Yane wailed through her hiccups. “I’m sorry I’m such a bad sorcerer.”

“Shut up. You’re not. Just train harder.”

Maki huffed, pushing Panda’s second attempt of teasing her away with an arm punch.

Yane didn’t know what this fullness in her chest was. It grew and grew like a balloon, but instead of making her want to float, it kept her to the ground. It made her want to stay, to melt into the moment.

She held the phone to Inumaki when he signalled her for it.

And all at once, Yane remembered a word she kept asking Yuta to explain but even he struggled to describe.

Happiness.

Yane held the word close. So, this was happiness.

Night wind washed through the hallway. They had opened the sliding doors to catch as much coolness from the summer night as possible, hopefully enough to combat the hot mornings.

Yane sat on the porch, a tray of snack and tea next to her. Her legs swung back and forth over the ground. The elation from afternoon had worn off, leaving her with a muted buzz as she listened to the crickets and watch the clear sky. There were still reports for modern literatures she needed to complete but the twinkling stars were so beautiful it felt regretful to skip.

“What are you doing up so late?”

Maki settled down next to her, a cup of tea in her hand as well.

Yane pushed the tray, offering the snacks inside.

“Thanks,” said Maki.

They sat in wordless comfort, barely audible even when they snacked and drank. Yane felt Maki’s attention on her, not the overbearing and hostile nature that made her want to curl into a ball on the ground but something cautious and expectant.

She glanced over at Maki, asking with her eyes.

“You…” Maki tripped over her word. She cleared her throat and continued. “You know. About training, you can ask me if there’s something you don’t understand. About channelling cursed energy or cursed tools, or whatever. I’m also a cursed tool user so I might be able to give you an answer. No point keeping question to yourself.”

Yane nodded. Even though the stars light wasn’t bright enough to dispel the indigo veil casted on them, she could still see the tint of red on the tip of Maki’s ear.

“I’ve been inside so long, you see,” Yane confessed. “To be honest, I don’t really know what to say at times like this. But today I thought you were a bad person, Maki. I… can’t seem to do what you guys do at all. I really tried but–”

“For me,” Maki spoke, her eyes were glued to the stars. “I grew up in the Zen’in family, and I hate every moment of it.”

She lowered her head, letting out a tired chuckle.

“Don’t be like Maki. Maki can’t see cursed energy. Maki is a failure. I heard that a lot.”

“They sound like bad people.”

Maki snorted, “The worst.”

She turned to Yane; her piercing gaze made Yane overtly aware of herself.

“I always thought I have to suck it up. Be strong. Show them it wasn’t impossible. It’s working for me, so much so that I forgot, maybe it wasn’t working for you.”

“That’s because I couldn’t picture the energy and I lack muscle to shoot arrows.”

A wind passed. Maki shook her head.

“What do you want to do here, Hamada? That blindfold idiot wants us to keep an eye out for you, but what do you want to do?”

Yane mused. Ice clank in her glass as they melt. She watched the drop of water trickled down a crooked line into the tray.

“I like it here,” she said. “I have my own room. I have people living with me who would talk to me. I like Yuta-kun’s compliment and Panda-kun’s antics and Inumaki-kun’s garden. I like hearing you guys welcome each other back.”

“You’ve only seen the good days.” Maki chucked a piece of chips. “You haven’t seen the bad ones yet. There might be more bad ones than good ones if you stay here as a sorcerer.”

Yane shifted, pulling her legs up and keeping them close to her chest. She couldn’t imagine what the bad day Maki was talking about, but she thought about a time if she needed to leave her classmates and live elsewhere. She thought it would be constantly cold even if it was summer. The silence would be so loud she wouldn’t be able to sleep, and maybe that would be a bad day for her even if it wouldn’t be the same kind of bad day Maki mentioned.

Yane wouldn’t have liked it all the same.

“But you didn’t move away because of bad days, did you?” she said. “You stayed with the boys.”

Maki stared at her before her startled expression shattered under a hearty laughter.

“You’re right. I didn’t.”

“Then I won’t either,” Yane declared to which Maki offered her a fist bump.

“Fair enough” Maki said and pulled Yane’s hand into a fist before tapping theirs together.

Remember this, Yane told herself. No matter what kind of bad days that Maki said would come, she would remember this summer night when the wind was pleasant, the tea was sweet, and the stars were beautiful.

She would remember it and she would stay.

Toge ran his hand under his shirt, scratching an itch on his back. He yawned. The message from Yuta had woken him up at a strange hour even though he should have been staying up to study anyway. It seemed Yuta had made it to Tokyo station.

He scrolled through the messages in their group chat as he made a beeline for the kitchen, ignoring all the nonsense their teacher was spamming in the chat. His hand stopped when he saw a notification popping up in the chat.

“Maki has added Tane to the chat”.

Toge snickered at the typo.

He remembered the way she sounded more like them by the days and not whatever robotic, wide-eye, rice ball stealing troublemaker feral thing on the day they met her. She was grinning ear to ear whenever Yuta clapped at her correct spelling of new Chinese character. Yane Hamada was someone that grew with positive affirmation. Toge made note after he saw her warmed to Yuta.

He had elected to give her space at first.

Their teacher’s ridiculous lacking recount of her story had convinced him she needed time. She had run from him and he, in a fit of rage over his dinner and worries over unknown intruder, used cursed speech on her. Someone with her history, he thought, would have wanted him to stay away the most.

But when she stomped away, holding back tears today he thought he should do something. He wasn’t Yuta, and (definitely) not as soft as Panda to offer a hug which he didn’t think was the right thing to do so he opted for the next best thing.

Toge hadn’t expected her to be so content with the flowers. He wouldn’t be able to lie and say it hadn’t made him a little proud.

Shadows appeared in the corner of his eyes and Toge walked to them, abandoning his late-night snack.

“Tuna?” He told Maki, tilting his head to see when she held up a finger, shushing him.

He smiled.

Yane was fast asleep, resting her head on Maki’s leg like some stray kitten.

He sat by Maki, decided to wait for Yuta with her and Yane.

“Pretty, huh?” Maki said, looking at the sky.

Toge followed her, his mind drifting to the two girls who, a few hours ago, had been so upset with one another they couldn’t be share the same space now comfortable enough to lean on each other.

“Salmon,” he said.

Life as a sorcerer hadn’t been bad, but it hadn’t been good to them either. And maybe it was only him, but Toge had a feeling it would get even better from tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Yane didn’t remember her bed can sway.

In fact, she didn’t remember returning to bed at all. Her eyes shot open. For a moment her heart nearly stopped. She wasn’t in her room nor was she in the dorm. She was elsewhere, smaller than the spacious room they have given her; and everything was moving with minimal turbulence but maximum music.

Yane sat up, looking about in confusion. She was still in her pyjama, checked flannel trousers and white blouse, and she was in a car. Drums were blasting from the stereo system.

“Run, run away baby before I put my spell on you!”

Satoru screamed to the singer, bouncing in his seat next to an unfamiliar driver who very much looked like he would be doing anything but suffer the one-man karaoke session on his left.

“Sensei, what…” she mumbled, trying to situate herself.

Inumaki peeked from behind the headrest of his seat. He was dressed differently, with a teal scarf covering his face.

“Konbu,” he said and waved his hand.

Maki and Yuta turned around, smiling like they wanted to cry.

“Good morning,” they greeted.

Yane nodded cautiously before checking her clothes again. Aside from her everyone seemed to be dressed in somewhat similar fashion, matching each other’s colour. She fixed the crinkles on her shirt from her weight crushing the fabric when she had slept.

The car was different in the morning sun than her memory of it the last time. It felt bigger. The interior was black and minimal. The control board was wooden with matte black buttons and the A/C was cranked up to full wind capacity. However, under the direct sunlight penetrating the windows from their right, the cold air served no more than neutralisation of in-car temperature. They drove in highspeed, passing patches of forest and other greenery so fast she struggled to process whether she just saw a tree or a shrub.

“I have questions,” she announced.

“Trust me,” Maki said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We all do.”

“Yane-chan’s awake?” Satoru whipped around, passing down a big paper bag through Yuta who gave her an apologetic look. “Your uniform is done. It’s in the bag. You should change into it. It is a school field trip after all.”

Yane reached inside the back with one hand, unbuttoning her blouse with the other.

“Not in the car, you idiot!” Maki screamed, nearly climbing over the seat to redo Yane’s buttons while the two boys sitting next to her covered their faces, necks turning so red Yane would think they had developed rashes.

Their driver spoke from the wheel, loud enough that he could be heard even at the end of the car.

“The Matsukawa service area is on the way to our destination. We’ll make a quick stop so you can change your clothes there, Hamada-san. If you have any beverage or snack request, please let me know.”

“Marshmallow, please,” Yane said before raising her hand. “I’m a bit lost. How am I here?”

“I carried you,” Maki grumbled. “That dumb blindfold up there decided it would be fun to drag you along for the trip. We tried to wake you, but you didn’t move at all.”

“Well, it was 4 A.M.,” Satoru spoke, dancing to the new song blasting from the speaker. “It would be weirder if she was awake.”

“Then don’t just randomly tell us to show up at that hour!”

Yane felt about for her bow, noticing a black leather case next to her on the seat with the bow cushioned inside. She breathed out in relief.

Maki had her foot against Satoru’s seat, digging her shoe into the leather.

“Somebody is still upset about not getting to play in the amusement park,” Satoru drawled, “we can’t help it now, can we? Panda-kun needs our help.”

“I’m not upset,” Maki protested, very upset.

Yane’s ears perked up at ‘amusement park’.

She shot Inumaki an expectant look then remembered how the morning seemed new. It couldn’t have been later than ten. These four couldn’t have woken up so early just to hang out at a park. What kind of park would open at four in the morning anyway?

Inumaki shook his head.

“Tuna mayo.”

He sounded dejected.

She would have liked to visit an amusement park too. Amusement parks always looked so much fun on TV; it must be fun in person as well. Double fun if they all get to go together. Satoru seemed like he would really enjoy roller coaster, especially without putting on the safety bar.

Their car took a left turn and slowed to a stop.

Yane exited, following their driver’s directions to the toilet. She avoided the looked sent her way by strangers on the way.

She rushed her morning hygiene and made for an empty stall, locking the door. The uniform wasn’t difficult to put on. If anything, it was quite comfortable and easy to wear. Yane thought it would be stuffy at first but opposite to the puffy look of the bomber jacket, the uniform was cool to touch and breathable. As if it was a second skin. Even the combat boots felt supportive on her feet, less something to wear and more an extension of herself.

Yane pushed her hair back and put the cap on, happy that it stopped the prickling sensation coming from curious glances on her exiting the stall. She slung the leather case housing her bow over her shoulder, checked her pyjama in the paperback, and headed for the group.

She saw Yuta first, looking lost in the crowd.

“Yuta-kun,” she approached, tapping him on the shoulder to announce herself.

He turned around. “Who?”

“Where’s everyone?” Yane answered herself when she saw Maki and Inumaki each holding a popsicle as they scanned the crowd.

She waved and ran towards them.

Both stared at her, confused.

“Oh! Looking good, Yane-chan!” Satoru trotted up to them. “I knew I have good eyes. Very military violinist.”

She grinned. “I like it. It’s comfortable. Although I think it’s a bit different from everyone.”

“Wait. Wait.” Maki held her hand. “You designed Yane’s uniform? What on earth were you thinking?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Satoru pouted.

“What isn’t?” Maki gaped; Inumaki nodded next to her. “The only thing that followed school regulation is the colour. Where even are the school crest pins?”

“Right here,” claimed Satoru. He held up the draw cords of her hood. “They’re aglet. See.”

Maki massaged her forehead, shaking her head. “Just what even is military violinist? That made no sense. Not to mention I barely recognise her even when she’s next to us.”

At her complaint, Satoru cracked a satisfied smirk.

“Then the clothes did its job,” he said. “All right. Everyone in the car. Panda-kun is waiting for us!”

They complied without further protest, Yane especially delighted to receive a pack of large squishy marshmallow. She ate in silent as soon as she clicked the seatbelt into place. The excitement of car travel would never die, she suspected.

Yane extended the marshmallow bag to the second-row seat for her classmates. Each politely took one piece with their respective thanks.

And they rolled on to meet Panda, none as giddy as Yane for her first field trip.

Ijichi greeted them as they got out of the car, but Yane had missed his greeting, fully immerse in the fascination that Inumaki’s seat in the car could lean forward for her to exit. It wasn’t until Satoru called her for the fifth time (he claimed) that her attention was redirected to him.

“All right, kids.” Satoru cracked his neck. “You three go help Panda. Yane-chan,” he took her shoulders “you’ll be watching them with me.”

“Why aren’t you joining?” Maki frowned. “Help out once in a while or something.”

“It won’t be a lesson if I help out,” Satoru reasoned. “Besides, you three should be enough, right?”

Yane shuddered. Something changed in the atmosphere after his words. None of the three answered but there was a shine to their eyes as if Satoru has flipped a switch in them. He waved his hand, motioning them to them.

“Go on then,” he said. “Why don’t you show Yane-chan how cool you guys are.”

With that, the three left, entering what appeared to be a hole in the air. They passed through it like it was made of jello and disappeared completely from sight. The seemingly invisible surface gave way for them, but returning to its smooth state immediately after the three were through and inside.

“This is a Veil. You’ve read about this, right? Take a deep breath.”

She complied.

“Here we go.” Satoru pushed Yane towards the Veil. It was soft and stretchy, like it was supposed to be wet but wasn’t.

Once the feeling disappeared, a completely different scenery appeared. They were inside a large clearing. Broken tree trunks lay scattered on the ground. It took a while, but Yane realised they were standing in what must have been a forest despite most of its vegetation had either wilted or was pressed into the earth.

Inumaki, Yuta and Maki stood in a loose circle, surrounding something invisible. She can see by its shadow, whatever they were looking at must have been big. Maki clutched her weapon, observing the invisible entity in a stance. Yuta’s sword was drawn, he seemed upset with it while Inumaki had no weapon, but his scarf was off and clutched in his right hand.

“Sensei,” she turned to Satoru. “What are they fighting?”

“Something that looks like an elephant and a gorilla mixed together,” said Satoru. “Must have been a semi-first.”

Despite the magical nature of his description, he had given Yane a single certainty. Her classmates were fighting something strong. Semi-first grade was dangerous, and even though she had never fought a cursed spirit before of any grade, Yane was willing to bet she would have a hard time to just get out unscathed from an encounter with a fourth grade.

Maki jumped, running across the air and swung her nagitana. Yuta joined her after, thrusting his sword forward, but kicked his feet and flipped backward, landing on the ground. Inumaki ran to his side.

“Twist!” He shouted.

Yane clutched the strap of her bow case; shiver ran down her spine. Inumaki had sounded vicious, unlike the soft, subtle smile she caught while he tended to the garden. He was the opposite of the carefree and relaxed boy she saw at their dorm.

She squinted, unsure if her eyes had deceived her. The air almost rippled in the direction he had spoken.

“Yane-chan, Yane-chan.” Satoru called, almost as if he was pinching her attention away from the fight before her.

“Y-Yes?”

The ground shook and he steadied her with a hand on her back.

“How are you enjoying school? Is it fun?”

She wasn’t sure if she should answer. On one hand, she no longer had her wit scared out of her every time someone walked by the common space. On the other, if he meant with her training then she wouldn’t have a good reply for him. Most of all, she couldn’t find a logic to his impromptu check-up when his other students were fighting right in front of them.

“It’s okay I guess,” she mumbled. “I need to work harder.”

He cackled, his voice drawn out like a tune, “I see.”

Yane returned to the battle. Her heart paced unevenly, nearly stopping any time one of her classmates dodged. Panda was nowhere to be seen but judging by an unnatural large trail of forestry carnage behind the invisible entity, there might be more in front of them than it appeared.

Yane found herself hoping Panda was okay.

She pushed through the emotion and sunk deeper, realising she wanted him to win, for all of them to win against whatever this was that they were fighting.

Maki and Yuta looked out of breath; the latter constantly checked on Maki with profound concerned. There was blood trickling down the side of Inumaki’s mouth. He too looked as though he was at wits’ end.

Yane’s hands curled into fists. She snapped her head to Satoru, begging him with her eyes but he kept on watching as though the scenery before her was business as usual.

Yane gritted her teeth. There had to be something she could do. If only there was something that, even at her level, she could do. They shouldn’t have to be hurt, or to have to push themselves when they were already at their limits. Good people like them shouldn’t have to feel that way.

They should be allowed to rest, to drink tea, and eat snack and sit around with Yane, squeezed into the kotatsu as they watch the unfathomable amount of food in the video Inumaki was watching.

She wanted them happy. She wanted to be happy with them.

“Sensei,” she said. “I think I just realised something.”

“Oh yeah?”

Yane nodded.

“I think Inumaki-kun, Yuta-kun, Maki and Panda-kun are my friends. I think I like them a lot.”

“Is that so?”

“I thought being abandon was a good thing before,” she continued. “I had more food to eat. Went to new places I could only see on TV than when I was inside. I still do now.”

Her hands closed tighter around the strap. Yane turned fully to Satoru. For the first time, she faced him directly and looked at his eyes behind the lines of bandage wraps. She hoped that he saw her. Really saw her.

“But more than that. I mean… What I’m trying to say is I think being abandoned was only good because you found me.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Because you all found me.”

Satoru was quiet. He was so quiet that the beats of Yane’s heart were reverberating like drums in her ears.

She waited and studied him. Anything would do. Even the littlest twist of muscle to suggest any sort of emotion.

He scratched the back of his neck, a slow but wide grin formed.

“Well, aren’t you a little good kiddo.”

His shoulders shook. Satoru crouched down next to her. She knew he was tall but even as he leaned down far, his head was still hovering a good bit above hers.

“Since you’re such a good kid, I’ll personally show you something cool. Take your bow out, Yane-chan.”

She followed, swiftly placed the leather case on the ground. The bow appeared differently this time, its red paint which had seemed weathered shone in screaming red.

Yane ran her hand over the vivid colour and felt every dent and every bump of the wood.

“Good,” Satoru said. “Now close your eyes.”

Something changed when she did as he said. Yane couldn’t see anything at first, but she didn’t feel as if she was lost without direction.

“Find your friend, Yane-chan. You can’t see them right now, but you know where they are right?”

Satoru sounded so sure Yane felt as if she could navigate the entire way to where Maki and the others were. As he spoke the darkness in front of her wavered.

“You want to help them right?”

The space around her rippled as if it was water and with each ripple, blurry shapes started to form, then become clearer, then gained colour.

One buzzing in red, one pulsating in green, one burning like white fire, and one behind her, oscillating between taking a form and deciding against it, electrifying like purple lightning.

Another took shape, a mixture of slimy, ghastly, and ravenous black, constantly trying to devour everything around it.

“Those three are fighting something really nasty right now,” Satoru continued.

“Like a big bully?”

“Exactly like a big bully,” he laughed. “You know what we should do with big bullies right?”

Yane nodded.

“We punish them.”

The lighting behind her flared. “Very good. Now, aim at the bully, Yane-chan.”

She aimed. The bow string fought her grip. Something formed between her thumb and her index finger.

Her hand shook.

The other three were so close to the entity. They moved too fast. What if she hit them on accident? That would be unacceptable.

“It’s okay,” Satoru spoke. His hand that was steadying her gave her a reminder of his reassuring presence with light, encouraging pats. “Breathe. You won’t hit them. You won’t let the arrow hit them. Trust me.”

Yane pulled the string further.

“Okay.” She breathed. On her exhale, she let go.

Her body was light, like all her burden had flown along with the arrow, streaking the air towards the entity. It pierced through an opening between the shapes of her three friends, impaling itself into her target before rippling through it.

“You can open your eyes now.”  She heard Satoru cooed.

Her friends appeared once her eyes readjusted to the light. They were all looking towards her direction. She couldn’t tell whether they looked surprised or horrified, but she was certain her teacher was very pleased with whatever happened.

“Good job, Yane-chan.” He clapped. “Your first successful mission with your friends. How does that feel?”

“I” she paused “don’t know.”

Her heart was still beating so fast. She was empty, but the good kind of empty. It was like she had taken a good shower.

“That was some punishment. Aren’t you a little strong sorcerer?”

She turned to him. “I’m strong?”

Satoru nodded.

“How strong?”

He mused. “Well, fire power alone that was probably a second grade level attack, but right now I’d say you’re about third grade. But hmmm. Let’s see. It might be a bit tough, but depend on the circumstances, I think Special grade would be possible.”

Satoru nodded to himself and grin.

“Yep. That sounds about right.”

Chapter Text

Maki trotted up to Satoru.

“Hey,” she hissed. “Mind explaining what the fuck just happened?”

She eyed Yane whose figure was just out of earshot from her and Satoru, barely visible behind Panda’s huge body. The smile on Yane’s face as she listened to the boys teaching her how to use stamps in their chat group pained Maki.

She crossed her arm and stood, staring upwards at Satoru. He didn’t seem the least bit intimidated or even surprised by her anger. If anything, he was pleased by it. Arrogant bastard.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Maki growled, “You know what I mean. What did you do to Yane? Isn’t she supposed to be a fourth grade? What was that attack?”

Satoru smirked.

“I never said she was fourth grade. You did.”

“Fine,” she spat, jabbing her thumb towards Yane. “That still doesn’t explain what she just did. She could barely even shoot anything until now. Her arrows didn’t even go half-way to the target board. You’re telling me she just pulled an attack like that out of her ass?”

“That’s because she has me as her teacher.”

Maki frowned. That was exactly how Satoru had always been. Ever since he brought Yane to them, introducing her as the Hama clan’s descendant (which had not only been absurd but also unbelievable), Maki had lost even more respect from the non-existent amount she carved out for him. Despite everything, despite his lack of common sense and tact, she had hoped he had some sort of goodwill towards Yane the same way he had for Yuta.

But it was different.

She couldn’t put her hand on it but there was a fundamental difference between the way Satoru treated those two. The way he was fond of Yane was different. It was as if Yane was something that he owned, like a pet, or a brand-new toy.

“Stop fucking around,” Maki warned. “You have something on her, don’t you? There’s something you aren’t telling us.”

“Who knows.”

She clenched her fists. “What is it? What are you hiding from us?”

Satoru leaned against the car. The sun set behind him, casting shadow over his body. He loomed like those crooked tree from dark forests in horror stories. His face turned to Yane and the boys, and he spoke, dangerous like honey, sweet and viscous:

“You know earlier, Yane-chan told me she thought of you all as her friends. As a teacher, I’m glad to hear that.” He turned back to her, blindfolded but it felt as though he was looking straight into Maki’s soul. “Are you sure you won’t regret it after knowing? You might not be able to look at her the same way. Can you handle it?”

It didn’t sound like a challenge. Satoru wasn’t egging her on or trying to get under her skin. Even more reason why she hated the way he said it.

Maki lifted her chin, glaring back.

“How the fuck would I know until you told me. It’s not like you care, isn’t it?”

Satoru grinned.

“You’re right. I don’t.” He waved as Yane ran towards them. Without missing a beat or even changing his tone. “Gather the others tonight, I’ll tell you about it.”

Yane didn’t think she had ever had so much fun before. Not even when she was sitting in the bullet train watching the houses and road stretched out, or when Satoru was balancing a bunch of chocolate-covered mushroom biscuit on top of each other so tall they were given warnings by the conductors.

He had announced on the trip back that they would be having a group dinner to celebrate her joining the school. The car had been a rowdy mess after that. Restaurant names and food choice were flying around, so much so that at the end, Satoru concluded they should just have hotpot at the dorm.

Although Maki complained of the suggestion given the season, she was the first to divide the work and provided solid leadership on time management and fast acquisition of the best ingredients.

The dinner had been the greatest though Yane had a sneaking suspicion their teacher had been the one to eat the most out of everyone. She had been pushed to sit between Satoru and Inumaki on the account that Maki disliked sitting next to or face-to-face with Satoru.

Yane hadn’t mind. At least until they had cleared out the food and moved on to post-dinner board games. Being between two people who constantly hit her with either a plus card, a reverse card or just plain skip turns in Uno was not something she aimed to repeat. Inumaki had been the winner in Uno and Satoru, even though came near to dead last, seemed to have made sure he stayed in the game for as long as possible just to hear Yane whined.

And whined she did, much to Inumaki’s teasing. So, when they switched to Jenga and her turn ended, Yane knew it was her chance.

“Inumaki-kun,” she said noticing she had managed to grab some of his attention from the tall wooden tower of blocks. Yane steeled her expression. “What do you think would come out if you order a cursed spirit to shit itself?”

He flinched.

The half-drawn block hit its neighbour, which dragged the structure, ending in a floor of wooden shape raining down on the grey surface of the kotatsu. The entire group was quiet but for a moment. Their roaring laughter shook the table along with their hands slamming on the floor.

“Toge!” Panda guffawed. “Why are you getting rattled by something so dumb?”

Inumaki turned to her, face red.

“Fish flakes!” He protested.

Yane grinned back, proud to hear Satoru hugging his stomach.

“That’s payback,” she offered.

“Oh, but I am a little bit curious about it thought,” Yuta added. “I never really thought if it’s possible to do that with Inumaki-kun’s cursed speech.”

“Don’t feed into it,” Maki groaned. She sat up straight, her cheeks flushed from the laughter. “All right. Since Toge won the last round and lost this round I guess that cancelled it out. Let’s play something else to decide who’d get ice cream.”

“Fish flakes,” Inumaki said calmly. He shook his head and pointed to Yane. “Tuna mayo.”

“Oh yeah, she did lose–”

Yane shook her head before Panda could continue any further.

“No fair! I beat Inumaki-kun this round so I won. So, I can exempt myself from the penalty.”

“Is what she said,” Satoru teased. He turned to Inumaki with his hand looking as if he was holding an invisible microphone. “What do you have to say to that?”

“Salmon roe, tuna mayo.”

Satoru roared. “And there we have it. The former victor had declared. Forfeiting his right to escape penalty, he used his right as victor to designate a fellow victim.”

He patted Yane’s shoulder in condolence.

“Unfortunately for you, Yane-chan. You can’t escape this one.”

Satoru raised his hand. “I want garigari kun.”

“Papico!” Panda said.

Maki followed.

“I’ll take matcha. Haagen-Dazs.”

“Yukimi daifuku, please,” Yuta spoke gently.

He did seem like the yukimi daifuku type. Soft, squishy, especially with his white clothes. He didn’t seem like someone with a scary cursed spirit around him at all, but she took everyone’s advice and didn’t once tried to bully him. Besides, bullying isn’t something a good person should do, and Yane should like to consider herself good.

“Fine,” she resigned, standing from the kotatsu. “But don’t you eat all the sour cream onion chips while we’re gone.”

Satoru pulled out his wallet and placed a five-thousand-yen bill in her hands. “Remember to get a receipt so I can get reimbursement from school, okay?”

Inumaki followed her, wordless as they exit the dorm. He wore a black mask over his mouth instead of the usual scarf which Yane thought was a good choice. No matter how practical the scarf might have been, it was still a very hot summer night, and it could draw unnecessary attention. She would have felt hot just looking at him with the scarf on.

The road to the convenience store was long and peaceful. The two of them walked in silence, only exchanging words once they reached the ice-cream selection.

Yane noticed Inumaki carrying a tote bag with him and thought it was a smart, planet-conscious decision even if it was out of the blue for him. There was no shortage of instances when she saw him returning to the dorm with two different plastic bags from the store.

“What are you getting, Inumaki-kun?”

He held up a green cup which at first Yane thought was matcha before she squinted and realised, with Inumaki way too happy holding his hand up in a peace sign, that the lid said “wasabi”.

“You’re joking.”

He shook his head and dropped the ice cream into the basket. Yane rolled her eyes and picked something lemon-flavoured before they paid and exited. Faithful to her promise to Satoru, she asked for a receipt and shoved into the plastic bag.

They sat on the metal bar at the parking space out front. The street was empty. Understandable considering the time of the day. Everything had felt a bit surreal. Yane’s life from a month ago was like a fever dream, muted and colourless. Her friends, her teacher, her school right now felt closer to reality. She didn’t understand why her parents had chosen to abandon her, but she would chose to take Satoru’s hand and leave as many times as she could go back. He said her clan had fallen. Yane wasn’t interested in the reason why, but she found herself more intrigued by what they were like.

“Tuna tuna.”

She turned to Inumaki. He had taken something out of the tote bag. Something rectangular and wrapped in yellow paper.

“What’s this?”

Inumaki gestured to her. She took it, taking off the wrapping paper and catching a card from falling to the concrete ground.

“From all of us,” it said. “Happy birthday, Yane-chan. P.S: Toge chose the gift so if you don’t like it, it’s his fault.”

Yane chuckled and checked the gift. The ice cream bag hung from her elbow.

“Flower language,” she whispered, tracing the letters on her gift. Warmth swelled within. She turned to Inumaki. “Thank you. I love it!”

His eyes crescent. Now that his scarf wasn’t covering half of his head, she could see faint clues pointing to his grin under the mask.

Inumaki was delicate, she noticed. It wasn’t his height which was just about the same as hers, or his slander form despite his choice to wear boxy clothes. The outline of his form felt thin and precise, but purposeful. He was true to his name. Dangerous and refined.

Part of her wonder if the strength he carried within this delicacy stemmed from his family. He knew how to operate as a sorcerer.

Yane’s grip tightened on the book.

She wanted to be like him.

“Say...” Her hands lowered. “Inumaki-kun, you’re from a pretty prominent sorcerer family, right?”

“Tuna?”

“When I saw you guys fighting today… when I found out that I could somehow help you guys today,” she continued. “I was really happy. Now, I’m also a bit jealous.”

“Tuna?”

Yane pushed the embarrassment down with a soft chuckle.

“I just thought ‘Oh, it must be so nice to know where you came from.’. I also want to know where I came from. If I know where I came from then I might know what I can do as a sorcerer. Then I wouldn’t have to fumble around with myself so much.”

“Fish flakes,” Inumaki sighed.

Yane shook her head, keeping the book close to her chest.

“It’s not a negative, self-blaming thing,” she said. “To be honest, I don’t really care much about my biological family. But if I know about them, I might have improved more. I would have become strong enough to be of more help to my friends.”

Cicadas filled the air with their noise. It was a really hot summer night indeed.

Yane fanned her face and took out her ice cream, lifting the lid. She offered Inumaki his and he took it, digging in. His eye bulged on the first bite and Yane giggled. She knew it would taste bad.

“Can I try?” She hinted at his ice cream and put out her own cup as negotiation. “You can have some of mine.”

The pungent heat of the wasabi rushed up the bridge of her nose. Yane laughed between coughs, noticing how the sour taste of the lemon made it worse.

“If only we have some soy sauce and sashimi,” she joked, much to Inumaki’s hearty agreement.

They decided after finishing their respective choice of ice cream it was time to return.

As they walked up the path to the school, Yane noticed the content of their friends’ ice cream had turned into mostly cream. Opposite to their journey to the convenience store, their way back was filled with talks of hypotheses, scenarios of what her cursed technique would be like and guesses on who would win a marathon if all of them ran with their hands.

So far, it was a resounding victory for Maki.

As they approached the school gate, Yane stopped. The more she talked, the more she realised this would probably be the only life she would ever know. There was no one else she would be able to talk about herself or cursed spirits to if they weren’t in this world, far removed from the normal one existing in tandem with theirs.

If not a sorcerer, she wouldn’t know what else to do. If not a sorcerer, she would probably not have met her friends. She probably wouldn’t know the riveting hunger of wanting something, of the awareness that she could want things.

Inumaki walked back to her.

“Tuna tuna.”

He waited, curious eyes checking for any sign that could have made her stop.

Yane smiled, grateful for his concern.

Now that she knew there were things she wanted, the only move left was to reach for it. She braced herself as she spoke.

“Inumaki-kun, I’ve decided. I’m going to ask Gojo-sensei about my family. He helped me today. I’m sure he can tell me something about what else I could do.”

Yuta thought it couldn’t get any worse. When Maki gathered him, Panda and Inumaki for a talk with their teacher about Yane, he didn’t expect Satoru to just up and told them as soon as she and Inumaki left the premise.

Inumaki aside, who Gojo told them to fill in later, the rest of them didn’t know what they had been expecting if he was truthful. He knew the circumstances surrounding Yane was sensitive. His was too, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat of a kinship with her. They were both new to this. Fishes out of water. Despite that, Yane had tried so hard to grow, to be a part of them. Even if she was difficult to handle at first and didn’t talk much, Yuta thought he should be the one to reach out to her as someone who knew how tough it could be, suddenly becoming a sorcerer.

But he didn’t expect this.

The room seemed to spin, and Yuta realised he hadn’t been able to breathe.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Maki’s voice was strained.

“Like I told you,” their teacher repeated “the Hama’s clan were executed overnight. Whoever was left of them that managed to run away must have banded together and finished what they started. Until one of them took Yane-chan and then sold her to us.”

“Wait,” Maki held up her hand. She looked almost pitiful with all the emotions fighting over dominant in her eyes. Then again, Yuta couldn’t be one to judge considering his mind was also a mess. “Sold. Wait. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“The Zen’ins  should have taught you this,” Satoru said. “It’s a basic lesson to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen again.”

“The execution was for their aggression against innocent civilians!” Maki shouted. “Because they created that bow!”

Satoru locked his fingers together.

Yuta was glad he couldn’t see his teacher’s eyes because of his blindfold. He didn’t want to know what kind of thought was behind them. He didn’t know if he could handle it.

“The bow had been with the Hama clan since before I was born,” said their teacher. “It’s just a cursed object that house the founder’s soul in it and bound to the clan by a bunch of vows. It’s not the Special grade cursed tool that the clan’s remnants are looking for.”

“But you said–that makes no sense.” Maki stuttered. “How is that even possible?”

Satoru spoke with the gravitas of selecting instant noodle over stale bread for breakfast.

“Because the Hama clan was able to turn the impossible into a reality, that’s why they were executed. Branded criminals. The cursed tool isn’t the bow, Maki. ‘Ha’ for destroy, ‘ma’ for evil. The Special grade cursed tool that the Hamas created was meant to be the strongest cursed tool of the time. Something no one could control but them, something that would put their name on the same page as the big three family.”

Yuta swallowed as Satoru continued.

“That clan’s techniques are kept with utmost secrecy but there are two ‘successes’ we were able to confirm. Those are the transference of souls between different cursed tools and the creation of Special grade tool: The vanquisher, who you know as Yane Hama. In other words, a living weapon. That’s what Yane-chan is. She’s a sentient cursed tool. The very first and last one.”

Chapter Text

Yane woke earlier that morning.

Her heart fluttered at the thought of the morning outing.

It had been a while since she got to leave the school without at least one of her friends coming along. Although Yane loved visiting the supermarket with Yuta, Maki, and Inumaki to help them select and carry groceries on the day they were charged with dinner, today it would be just her and Satoru, and the pastel macarons he had promised her on the phone when they talked last night.

He had left before she could return his money or give him the change and receipt. In the end, Yane had elected to call. She could return those when they meet in person anyway.

It was surprising for him to agree to it right away. If she hadn’t known any better, Yane would have guessed her teacher was waiting for her to ask for a meeting.

She picked a butter gold hoodie and simple jeans (borrowed from Maki’s childhood clothes), before putting on her uniform’s bomber jacket and cap.

Satisfied with her look, she grabbed the wallet on her desk and left, shoving it into her back pocket.

The closer she got to the school gate, the giddier she felt. It was looking up to be a nice, sunny morning. The weather was breezy enough to wear something slightly warmer than usual without her having to worry she would sweat upon the lightest exercise. Night-time might be a bit of a problem but given that she would be walking back up the hill to the dormitory, the chilly night shouldn’t be too worrisome.

Ijichi was waiting for her at the front. When he saw her, a soft smile appeared on his lips.

“Good morning,” she bowed.

“Good morning, Hamada-san,” he replied, opening the passenger door for her.

Yane slipped the seat belt on and after Ijichi finished a quick check around, they departed.

“Then, I will be waiting here,” said Ijichi. “Feel free to call me if you need anything else.”

Yane waved and walked away.

She toured the small shopping district, exhilarated by all the people walking around just having the time of their lives with one another. Mothers, fathers, children, friends, lovers. All so happy.

She was happy too, last night.

Even though the ice cream Inumaki and she had bought ended up melting when they had finally reached the dorm. “Salmon salmon,” he had said, putting them into the fridge as if to say the puddle of sugary goodness in those containers should be no cause for concern and that the others could always eat them later.

Everyone had gone to bed. Strange as they didn’t seem the type to miss out on desserts, but Yane chalked it up to them being tired from all the dinner merriment.

She remembered the common space had been dark and empty when she bid Inumaki good night and returned to her room. She had called Satoru, requesting a meeting about her family history and techniques to which he had jokingly asked if she had wanted a date.

And she was happy.

To be included in a joke, to be listen to, and to be heard.

Yane turned the corner at the shopping street. Unlike the main road, there were less people, leaving the path cosy and homey. The traffic wasn’t as bad as they had thought, and she ended up an hour too early for their meeting.

Yane took the chance and entered a quaint flower shop snuggly between one old antique store and a traditional restaurant of which door was closed and of which lights were off.

The bell echo through the small space when she stepped in.

“Welcome!” A beautiful, young woman turned around and swooned. “My, what a cute young man you are. Are you looking for a flower for your girlfriend?”

“Oh, erm,” Yane grimaced. “Just for my friends. And maybe something for my teacher.”

“Goodness,” the shop keeper gasped. “I didn’t realised you were a girl. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s all good,” she said. “Can I look around the store for a bit? I don’t really have a specific flower in mind yet.”

The woman smiled, sun-bright and warm. “Of course!”

Yane made a motion of half a bow and walked up to the crates.

There were so many kinds of flowers with all the colours and the pleasant scents. Some refreshing, some captivating and sweet.

She found herself back to a summer afternoon, when the sun wasn’t as intense, and the heat wasn’t unbearable. And she remembered Inumaki, who she had thought to be avoiding her, had given her the gentlest of encouragement, far removed from the meaning of his name.

She noticed a bucket of white rose. Rosa rugosa, she recalled from her book. Last night, Yane had stayed up until late, carefully lifting each page of her birthday present under the orange light of her desk lamp, marvelling at the single fact of how many types of flowers were there on Earth.

Yane smiled to herself and picked one out of the bucket.

Another flower, she thought and reached for the red Camilla which had reminded her of Yuta, then the dandelion of which the brilliant yellow would turn into white fluffy puffs just like Panda.

She walked some more before catching sight of a peculiar crate and the flower inside that looked like crimson firework.

Yane reached for the spider lily, mesmerised by the beauty of its red colour and despite its association to death, she thought it would have been such a perfect bloom for Maki. A terrifying kind of beauty. Just like Maki.

“Finding every all right, miss?”

Yane turned around.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Can you put all of this into one bouquet. And for the other” she mused and pointed at two other buckets “please use those.”

“White orchid and blue delphiniums. Got it. I’ll get right on it.”

Yane nodded at the woman and checked her phone as she waited for the bouquets. It had taken her quite sometimes to choose the flowers that she would have to leave immediately for the café if she wanted to be on time. And it was important to be on time.

“Here you go,” said the shop keeper. “That will be seven thousand.”

Yane placed the bills on the silver tray, took her bouquets and with a hasty thank, left the shop.

She followed the map to the café. The little thing sat in an unassuming alley, but the interior betrayed its outside appearance. Everything inside had a minimal but had expensive feel to it. Like how the wooden table didn’t gloss but shone and how the matte black of every cup board handle complimented the bone white plates of sweet inside the display fridge.

“Oh, there you are!” Satoru waved from the back of the room. “Yane-chan!”

She ran to him, presenting the bouquet she had bought. Satoru stared at her through his sunglasses.

“I… I’m sorry if you don’t like flowers.”

“I do.” He smiled and Yane thought she saw a hint of sadness on him before his cheerfulness returned. “Is that one for the others?”

Yane nodded and set the bouquet on the chair next to her, “I hope they like it.”

She could hear strange whispers coming from other patrons about their relationship, but the plate of macarons made quick work of her distraction. Yane almost let out an audible squeal when the sugary delight hit her tongue. There were plenty left on the plate, but she couldn’t help thinking she would need to get some more to bring home.

However, before all of that, there was something more important. Yane cleared her throat and spoke:

“Sensei, about my family…”

“Oh yes.” Satory leaned down and sipped ice coffee out of a fancy black paper straw. Next to the cup, a few opened packs of sweetener lay. “It’s not going to be a fun story.”

“It’s okay,” Yane said. “I’m the one who asked you to tell me. I’m not going to lash out.”

Yane wished she hadn’t been so arrogant because now she wanted to lash out.

It was agonising to hold back her wish to scream, to let something out before all these emotions grew so much in the pit of her stomach that the macarons she had consumed would be pushed out.

Sure, she was not the best out there. There were still much she must learn to do before she could be of help to her friends. It would have been a long road, but it wasn’t impossible, and now her teacher had just told her it was.

It was as much the truth as there couldn’t be snow in the summer, but Yane was the snow.

She was something everyone thought they would look forward to, only to later realised she was more trouble than she was worth.

Yane reached for the cold pitcher, struggling to keep the water from spilling as she poured.

Satoru’s words spun in her mind.

It sounded like a joke, but she knew him. He would never joke about something like this.

“So, you’re saying that my family murdered… no, massacred innocent people to make a weapon. And that weaponed is me?”

She swallowed, taking all her strength to continue.

“And they sold me to the school. And if the school–if you hadn’t come for me, I would have just died or be killed?”

Satoru reached the pitcher and she flinched away.

He paused for a second before nodding and waited with his hand open. Yane relented her hold on the pitcher and passed it to Satoru.

She sat with her hands balled into fists in her lap.

Satoru poured the water in her stead, but her glass remained full despite her parch-dry throat.  

His fingers had brushed over the back of her hand when she handed him the pitcher and Yane felt the bile rising in her throat when she imagine how he must have felt.

The water on her hand, spilled because of her carelessness was cold and sticky. It was icy, like clotting blood and Yane didn’t dare imagine it was because by touching her hand, even just a little, Satoru had touched something dirty.

She was dirty.

She was something that had hurt people, that had made people suffered while spouting nonsense about learning to do good.

There were those whose futures had been robbed from them because of her.

Lives were cut short because of her.

She was something made from greed and pain.

She was something bad.

Something hot twisted around inside Yane, spreading all over her body. A whimper escaped her.

It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be bad. This meeting happened because she was a good person, because she wanted to be a good person. Same thing when Satoru had picked her up. It was because she was good. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have. He would have just abandoned her knowing what she was.

The others let her be their friends because she was good.

If she wasn’t good, then what would happen? What would it all mean?

“Yane-chan.”

“Do the others know too?”

Her voice shook. Her head buzzed with cold flashes as she waited.

“They do.”

Yane shot from the chair. The sudden motion made her dizzy.

Everything in the store made her chest heavy.

The wood she had thought was beautiful, smelled overwhelming; the hushed chatters of patrons that was part of their background grew too loud for her. They were all making it impossible to think, to breathe.

Yane heaved.

She needed to leave. Any longer in the place and she might do something stupid. Like break something. Or cry.

“Thank you for the macarons, sensei,” she mumbled and grabbed the flower bouquet. “They’re really good. Very good. I will… erm… I will pay my half later. I think I’d like to get back now.”

Satoru looked unwilling but he didn’t stop her.

“Okay,” he simply said, and Yane made for the door and ran to whichever direction that wasn’t blocked.

She pulled her phone and searched for Ijichi’s number. But she couldn’t press the call button. She just kept staring at his name even when teardrops blurred them, and her entire body was so weak she couldn’t stand. He must not see her like this.

Ijichi was kind, even more so than Satory. He would be asking questions and then, if he knew, he would hate her. He would be disgusted.

Yane crouched on the ground, bouquet in hands, and she screamed so she wouldn’t sob.

What a joke she had been, talking about being of help, talking about getting better with her sorcery. And all along there had been a reason not to, a reason that she didn’t deserve to, a reason why she was abandoned. A reason that she now knew.

A reason that everyone now knew.

Toge considered himself fast on his feet, but this was the fastest he had run in a while.

It was around noon when his friends told him about what they had discussed with their teacher while he and Yane had been out buying them ice cream. At first, he had thought it was strange for even Panda to be so doom and gloom, and Yuta, despite his timid and general low energy had seemed uncharacteristically quiet.

It took a while for what Maki had said to sink in and mellow. Being in the profession and growing up as a sorcerer of his clan, Toge thought he was used to the ugliest of human’s nature only to be proven again and again that he was wrong.

This time as well, he was so utterly, devastatingly mistaken.

He couldn’t be the bigger person and say he didn’t care because the fact was that he did. In fact, he had been so bothered by it that he was so overwhelmingly at loss of what to say. To learn that his friend was not only the proof of a horrible crime, but also might not even be a human was no easy pill to swallow.

Toge was uncertain at first. He was so angry that his body went rigid.

Why would he be angry?

At whom was he angry?

It wasn’t as if Yane lied about who she was. Neither he or the rest of the group had known; and yet, when he thought of her, all he could see was red.

Toge dropped onto his beanbag sofa, staring at his two books he so carefully displayed on his shelf, one of tea ceremony and the other, flower language.

His brain overheated as it went into full capacity to ask and answer all his questions. Because he needed it to, because he needed to know if he would be able to look at Yane in the eyes when they meet again. Or would he be just like his friends, unsure if they could keep up a façade of nonchalance.

But there was something else he knew that the other didn’t know. Something that he couldn’t stop but think was the only piece of information he needed to rush out of the dorm when the clock struck seven and he couldn’t find Yane anywhere in the dorm.

Toge told himself that she was safe because she was with Satoru, but his phone call and Satoru’s confirmation that she had left for a while now had sent him out, shoes haphazardly worn and maskless on him.

Scenarios kept popping up in his mind. Scenarios of Yane crying, of her doing something stupid, and he couldn’t help but feeling responsible for not telling the others right away what she had shared with him.

He had let the shock overpowered what really mattered, that Yane was their friends, and as long as she wanted to be their friends, there was no need for her to think of herself as anything less than.

Toge was breathless, positively sweating like he had taken a shower when he saw she got out of a taxi in front of the school gate.

“Fish flakes!”

She looked up, eyes full of fear. Then as quickly, she casted her face down and walked past him.

Toge followed.

“Mustard leaf. Salmon roe! Fish flakes!”

It was evident how the meeting had gone.

Toge squirmed at the thought of forcefully stopping someone. The irony was funny to even his friends, but as a sorcerer of his ability, it felt wrong to impose his will on people unless they meant him or his friends any harm.

But he ran after Yane and took her wrist.

“Mustard leaf!”

He kept his eyes on her, and leaned to the side so he could see her face. Her body was cold even though she was dressed warm enough for winter.

Yane didn’t pull away, but she pushed a bouquet into his arms so quickly he had to let go.

“I’m sorry, Inumaki-kun,” she said.

She sounded tired, exhausted even. In the moonlight, the reddish tint in her eyes appeared.

“Going out was more tiring than I thought so I’ll be going to sleep first. Tell the others for me too, okay?”

She paused. Her shoulder trembled.

“Sorry.”

And Yane walked away so fast she might as well be running.

Toge didn’t run after her. His feet were planted to the ground. The fragrance of the bouquet spread along with the wind.

Toge’s arms fell to his side.

“Damn it,” he mumbled.

By the time he returned to the dorm, Maki, Yuta, and Panda were already in the common space.

Toge didn’t know what to say.

Maybe they had already seen Yane when she came in, or maybe they had finally gathered now that Yane was in her room and wouldn’t run into them on their way out of their rooms.

Regardless, Toge placed the bouquet on the kotatsu and sat. Such a peculiar combination the bouquet had. But he knew it wasn’t due to careless selection. Far from it. Afterall, it made no sense for a bouquet to have just a single flower for each type.

He took the white rose. If he wasn’t wrong, then each flower was meant for each of them. They were supposed to be messages from Yane. Unspoken words. Implicitly understood.

His heart pained. Yane had copied what he had done for her. What his father had done for his mother. How much had she gone through the book they had given her last night to apply it immediately the next day?

“Hey guys,” Yuta spoke up and took the Camilla. The red on it contrasted his white shirt but the flower didn’t seem out of place in his hand. “I’ve been thinking, and I know it might take a little bit of time, but I don’t want Hamada-san’s past to server what we are finally building with her.”

Maki took the spider lily without words. It was an oddly fitting choice for her.

“She didn’t ask to be this way,” Yuta continued. “I don’t think it’s fair if we make her feel like she’s at fault for it.”

Maki slammed her fist on the kotatsu, rightfully frightening Yuta.

“I… I mean that’s what I thought. I’m not trying to force it on you.”

“Shut up,” Maki said. “It’s not fair that you stole my words. Why are you trying to put on a good face here? Do you think you’re her only friend?”

Panda chuckled, drawing a smile out of Toge. He handed Panda the dandelion. The flower was so comically small in his paws that it became endearing.

“Agreed,” said Panda.

Toge joined them, “Salmon!”

They sat with their flowers, in quiet unanimity. It was like a weight was lifted from him. His worries had been for naught. They had all been thinking the same thing.

“But Maki,” Panda started. “What’s with your flower? Isn’t spider lily ominous? Relating to death and all that.”

Maki puffed her chest.

“Idiot,” she said. “That’s why it’s cool. What about yours? It’s practically a weed. I didn’t even know people sell that.”

Panda stuck out his lower lip.

“Don’t you know it become all round and cute later. I bet Yane saw it and thought it looked just as fluffy and adorable like me.”

“Whatever,” Maki rolled her eyes.

Toge smiled down at his rose. Yuta seemed to have noticed. He turned and asked:

“I didn’t expect you to take the rose, Inumaki-kun. Maybe we took ours by mistake?”

Toge shook his head, “Fish flakes.”

He can’t put a word on it, and he had never received flowers before, but he knew for a fact the rose was meant for him. Just like how he knew each of the other was meant for Yuta, Maki, and Panda.

“All right then,” Maki announced and reached for a cup in the lower cupboard. “Put your flowers in here. Then we’ll get something to eat.”

Yuta grimaced, “Isn’t that Gojo-sensei’s drinking glass? Didn’t he declare it was his personal cup?”

“Who cares,” said Maki. Whether the glass belonged to their teacher was not a fact Maki was interested in, and Toge had a sinking feeling that if was truly did belong to Satoru, she would enjoy using it as a temporary vase even more.

Panda walked up to the two of them and gestured to the second floor, “Shouldn’t we call her down for dinner too?”

Maki and Yuta’s smile faded, dyed in sadness.

“Nah,” Maki said. “Let’s give her some time today.”

“Yeah,” Yuta added and Toge joined them.

He hadn’t thought much about it for the last few days, but once again, as Maki and Panda bickered over the dinner menu, he couldn’t help but become aware of how much he was glad to be friends with these three and to be friends with Yane.

Even years from now, Toge suspected, he wouldn’t trade anything in the world for what they have right now.

Chapter Text

Yane blinked; a soft groan escaped her lips. Her entire body ached as if she had been thrown into a washing machine and wriggled dry. Funny, considering she hadn’t gotten out of her bed for the last two days.

She rolled over to the opposite side. Her phone had been vibrating non-stop with messages from Maki and the boys.

Two days ago, she would have jumped at the chat as soon as she heard a notification regardless of the time. Now the phone, the room, everything just reminded her of a future she couldn’t have, of the fact that he had never escaped the inside because she was never supposed to be on the outside.

Someone like her had no rights to be outside.

The hours went by and Yane, with stacks of overdue assignments and unread messages, found herself in bed, slipping in and out of sleep.

She had heard them knock on her door, heard the muffled thanks for the bouquet, heard the hesitant compliment of the flowers, and heard herself sobbing into the pillow so the others think she had been asleep.

Yane lay on her back, hands over her face. Her nose was stuffy and congested. Any old breath she managed to get was through her mouth, and even that was a tiresome task.

It was impossible to tell the time but since the room was proper dark, it must have been later in the afternoon or night.

She slipped off the bed.

Her clothes stuck to her. Her hair though short, was hardening with grease, and she remembered how much she had woken up multiple times during her groggy haze, sweating buckets with some unrecallable nightmares.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she leaned back, head resting on the mattress.

A few soft knocks echoed in the room.

“Hamada-san,” Yuta’s voice rang, muted behind the door. “Hamada-san, are you in?”

“What are you saying? Of course, she is!” Maki grumbled.

The knocks increased in intensity.

“Yane!” Panda spoke this time. “Come out and make rice balls with us! You get to choose your own fillings.”

“I don’t want any,” she replied.

Her voice sounded terrible. Hoarse, like grating wood. Yane cleared her throat and continued, hoping the tears hadn’t dulled the edge of her voice.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t lie,” Maki shouted. She must have been the one pounding on the door. Yane’s room was trembling under the impact. “Yuta, go.”

Yuta squeaked, “What?! But I can’t.”

“Why are you so useless at times like this?”

She heard Maki grumbled before the conversation died out.

Yane exhaled; relief washed over her but a moment too soon.

The next thing she knew, something flew past her, slamming into the wall.

Yane screamed at the destruction and scrambled back to the far corner of her bed.

Her stacks of textbooks and notes lied scattered on the floor, covered in sawdust. She could hear Inumaki and Yuta fussing outside, complaining about how Panda didn’t know to hold back.

Amid their argument, the remnants of wood on the floor crunched under pressure and the light flashed causing Yane to shut her eyes, unable to handle the sudden change.

“You look like shit,” Maki said.

“M-Maki-san! You can’t say that!”

Yuta interjected but quiet down immediately when Maki glared over at him, fully ready to sew his mouth shut if he so much let out a peep.

Maki turned to Yane, gesturing to the bathroom. “Get up, Yane. Shower, then dinner.”

Yane looked away, “I’m not hungry.”

“I am,” said Maki. “Panda, Toge, take a hold of her. I’ll be back with my bathroom amenities.”

Upon her declaration, Yuta flushed red, flailing about like he had two extra arms.

“Maki-san, you’re showering together with her?”

Maki frowned, “Why? You want to have a go at it then?”

Yuta made a choking noise. His face grew even redder as he shook his head. Yane was afraid might fly off just on momentum alone.

“Yeah!” Panda protested. “Why are you going in? If anyone here qualified, then it would be me!”

“Shut up, you perv,” Maki glared back, a dangerous expression on her face. “You’d better keep a good hold on her until I’m back.”

And with her do-or-die order, she exited, leaving Yane held by the arms by Inumaki and Panda despite her struggling. All the while Yuta hovered above the broken door as he mumbled about the damage and gathered her books back onto the desk into a neat stack.

Yane pressed her lips together, not sure what she should say or whether she could say anything at all. She hoped to anything holy that she didn’t smell as gross as she felt, and that she didn’t look as disgusting as she was.

Even if they wouldn’t be able to stay friends after this, she had wanted the boys and Maki to remember her not as some pathetic lump on the bed who hadn’t showered for two days.

Yane almost let out a laugh at the irony.

If she was a horrible thing, a bad thing then she shouldn’t have cared. She shouldn’t have feel so wretched over her appearance or her friends’ mood.

But the fact was she did and a part of her, though small, felt hopeful.

If she did, then would it not mean she wasn’t as bad as she had thought?

Because if she was then they wouldn’t have bat an eye when she was sad or tired or scared, would they?

The thought lingered in her mind. She stopped fighting against the two boys and waited in silent when Maki’s footsteps echoed closer.

Yuta joined them, standing by the foot of the bed as though to guard the escape route. He had a gentle smile when he caught Yane looking at him.

Her heart ached and she wondered how long until that smile too would disappear.

She turned away and prayed Maki would enter soon lest Yane spoke and ruin the boys’ evening. Thankfully, Maki answered her prayer and before long, the three boys left her room.

“Let’s go,” Maki ordered, and Yane didn’t fight her.

Warm water was a godsend after two days of no shower. Yane hadn’t thought so until she entered the bathtub. Now, she never wanted to come out of it.

Maki had insisted on washing Yane’s hair, complaining about how she needed to stop being lazy and use conditioner no matter how short her hair was. They hadn’t talked about anything else important. Yane hadn’t spoken at all, leaving Maki to carry the conversation which was closer to a monologue.

Regardless, it was an extremely comfortable experience. Maki, despite her rough training method and aggressive approach to exorcising cursed spirits, was unbelievably gentle with the way she had handled Yane’s hair.

She left Yane to shower before allowing her to soak in the.

Maki replaced Yane at the shower head, washing her hair and continuing to talk about the latest mission Satoru had sent her and Panda on far off in some jungle where she fought a bear.

Resting her chin on the knees of her folded legs, Yane sunk the lower half of her face in the warm water. She stole a glance at Maki, her heart pained at the sight of various scars on Maki’s torso and legs. She must have obtained those fighting dangerous things.

Things like Yane herself.

“You know,” Maki said, pumping out conditioner. “I usually hate my life before, but there was something nice from it. The bath. Most of the shittiest things that happened would feel pretty trivial when you soaked in warm water.”

On that, Yane would agree. It felt almost impossible to think, let alone think about negative things when she was cocooned in warm water. All the soreness in her muscle seemed to melt away like butter on hot pancake.

Her stomach growled.

Pancakes sounded nice.

Maki turned off the shower and clipped her hair.

Yane shifted further to make space for her in the tiny bathtub.

They stayed quiet. The only audible noise was the tired sigh from Maki once her shoulders were completely soaked and the residual water from the showerhead dripped on the floor in its unique rhythm.

“Been a while since I shower with another girl my age,” said Maki.

“So, you’ve been showering with just the boys since you got here?” Yane blurted, surprised when Maki splashed water towards her.

Yane coughed, shaking her head to get the water out of her mouth. Maki’s laugher rang through the narrow space of the bathroom.

“Why the hell would I do that? I mean I’ve been showering alone. Like a normal person.”

“Oh!” Yane blushed before bursting out into a fit of laughter herself. “Sorry.”

They giggled for a while, calming down for but a few seconds before bursting out into rounds of chortle upon seeing each other’s eyes.

Once the high died down, the dull pain in her chest returned.

Yane shrunk, wistful as she remembered a few seconds of genuine joy she had felt. She found herself wanting more of those few seconds, a lot more than she could have the time of day to fit them.

“Let’s get out,” Maki announced and stood. “The boys must be waiting. Toge was pumped about making rice ball together. Just so you know Yuta went all out with the salmon roes. He bought one of those fancy wooden box from the supermarket.”

Yane followed her without protest, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach.

Maki was right. It would be awfully rude to decline those expensive salmon roes.

“Oh! There they are!” Yuta cheered as soon as Yane and Maki reached the first floor.

His unruly hair puffed up, so astoundingly like a dandelion that Yane couldn’t help but hid a smile. He waved like her sense of direction depended on it.

Yane approached, taken aback by the sheer variety of rice ball fillings. So many were of them exactly what Inumaki was saying that she was unable to discern whether he was trying to introduce the ingredient or say something else completely.

“You took way too long to shower, Maki,” Panda protested, his left paw raised.

“Shut up. It’s not me. Do you know how unkempt Yane was? She hasn’t showered in two days!” Maki barked back. Her hands akimbo.

“There there,” Yuta soothed, much to Yane’s embarrassment. “Let’s start making the rice balls.”

Maki nodded and passed a pair of gloves to Yane.

Yane mumbled a thank and took it.

They began with the work. Yuta and Inumaki were amazing with the rice balls, shaping everything into perfect triangle while chatting about all kinds of things like they were seasoned veteran. Panda’s rice balls were made round, no doubt from the different between paws and hands.

Maki, on the other hand, barely made any of her own due to a need to teach Yane while keeping an eye out for any of the boys snatching the fillings rather than putting them inside the rice balls.

Especially, those expensive salmon roes.

Deapite her efforts, Yane’s rice balls turned out ugly, misshapen things with colours of fillings peeking out from the gap between the rice.

 It was difficult to make them as beautiful as the others did.

She couldn’t tell how much filling was to be put inside the rice, or how much pressure should be used so the shape didn’t crumble.

Yane bit on her lower lips and stopped shaping the clump of rice and fillings in her palms. They were just like her, those rice balls.

She put the last of her rice balls on the plate. Once they ran out of ingredient, all the rice balls were gathered in one big plate, ugly or not.

“Thank you for the food,” her friends said.

Yane copied them, reaching for a rice ball she had made, but Maki was faster. She put a beautiful triangular one onto Yane’s plate. Yuta followed, then Inumaki, then Panda with his round rice ball.

“Eat,” Maki ordered.

She took Yane’s misshapen rice ball in her hand.

Yane felt something stuck in her throat when she saw the boys doing the same.

Her friends discussed over the fillings with each other, claiming it was nice because they could see what the inside was before choosing and so it had been easier to choose their favourite fillings without having to guess.

“The thing about rice ball,” Maki spoke, eyes on the food.

The boys became quiet.

“Regardless of how it looks, it’s food. Even though it seems easier to make, it ended up a lot more difficult than you thought.”

Yane lowered her head. She knew too well. Even if it was her first time ever making them, she hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to hold a shape. She hadn’t expected that she wouldn’t be able to do what her friends found no trouble doing. In the end, it looked like she was just that: a misshapen rice ball.

“But” Maki continued “whether it’s mustard leaf or expensive salmon roe inside, people would still eat it. They need to eat to survive.”

She pressed on the rice ball, forming its crocked corners into that of a triangle.

“No matter how bad the shape. All you need to do is put some work into it and it will end up looking pretty again.”

She looked to Yane. Her striking hazel eyes held Yane’s in constant challenge. It didn’t seem like she was talking about the rice ball at all.

Yane’s lips quivered. She bit the inside of her cheeks, hoping the pain would distract her from the urge to cry.

“As sorcerers, sometimes we’re not really sure if we would even be here tomorrow” the boys nodded to Maki’s words “so if it’s not rotten, no matter how badly the rice balls were made, we’ll take them gratefully. Is that not the same for you, Yane?”

Yane shook her head and stared at the tatami mats. Tears tip-tapped onto the tatami as she spoke:

“It is. It is the same for me.”

She felt hands on her back as they patted her, gently, like a mother soothing her feverish child.

“Then, that’s good enough for us,” Yuta said. “Let’s eat, Yane-san.”

Yane’s head snapped up at the way he called her. Until now Yuta had always felt a bit distant. He was polite. He was kind, but he didn’t show any sign that he thought of her more than anything but a fellow classmate. It had always felt like she was the only one trying to be his friend. But it was no longer that way. Even though he didn’t call her just by name like Maki or Panda did, but he was no longer addressing her by her last name.

They had chosen to break down that wall and offered their hands, their acceptance of her.

“Okay,” she said and picked up the first rice ball.

It was tuna mayo. Creamy and salty with a hint of sweetness that came after.

“Is it good?” Maki reached for another of Yane’s rice balls, much to the boys’ protest.

“Yeah,” Yane nodded through her sobs.

Truth to be told, it was too salty. A natural result of mixing food with tears, but she thought just for tonight, maybe even when it was a bit different from the usual “deliciousness” she was used to, the rice ball still tasted good.

That maybe sometimes, things didn’t have to be exactly how it was supposed to be to be good.

And maybe, she could be good even if she was created by bad people, because as long as she did good, then she could be good regardless.

Then one day, she would be more good than bad, so much so that people could reminiscent about her presence and not regret their decision to stay.

It was dark again in Yane’s room, although not completely. It was hard for it to be pitch black when the door, her source of light blockage, was resting against the wall by the foot of her bed.

“Maki,” Yane turned to her side, whispering to her friend in her futon on the floor. “Are you asleep?”

“I was,” Maki lied. Her voice sounded too clear for someone who had been sleeping. “What is it?”

Yane smiled. She lay back on her back, “Thank you. I’m so glad that I came to Jujutsu High. I’m so glad I became your friends.”

Maki was silent.

“There’s so much I still don’t know about myself,” Yane continued. “But I’m thinking I’ll start finding out from now on. I’ll become stronger.”

She sat up from her bed.

“I’ll become stronger so…” she put out her pinkie finger “let’s promise to stay together even on the bad days. All of us. Let’s remember to greet each other when we come home and wish each other luck when we go out.”

Maki rose from her futon, propping her body with her elbow. She took Yane’s pinkie in hers, her smile shone in the soft moonlight.

“Yeah.” Their fingers tightened. “Be strong, Yane.”

Yane grinned. That was enough. She just knew that at this moment, nothing could deter her from doing her utmost. Nothing could stop her from become someone her friends could count on; someone they want by their side.

Even if there was, Yane was certain she would make sure it couldn’t stand in her way. There was no other choice.

Satoru crossed his legs as he lay back on the leather sofa. For some reason, he didn’t want to go home that night so instead, he had elected to stay in his office at the school.

He couldn’t get the memory of Yane’s voice out of his mind.

Satoru had once sounded like her. Shocked, confused, and in denial over a piece of news, what was supposed to be mere facts, the unbearable truth.

He had stayed back and followed her until she made it to the school, watching from the shadow in case something might happen. Satoru had wanted to wait until she was in the dormitory, but he had removed himself when he saw Toge running up to her.

While he was confident with how the kids would react to the news, Yane was the most important part in all of it this time. Unless she could accept herself, no amount of reassurance from others would help. She had to decide for herself.

“Isn’t that right, Suguru?” Satoru whispered, glancing at the blue and white bouquet on his desk.

A few polite knocks on the door broke him out of his reverie.

Satoru sat up and stretched, “Yes?”

“Gojo-san,” Ijichi entered, holding a tablet as he approached. “About your request for investigation–”

“Hama clan’s survivors? How did it go?”

Ijichi handed him the tablet, “I found a few.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow as he went through the list, completed with aliases, addresses, and more. Ijichi truly was capable, and the decision to push him to become an assistant had proven time and time again to be a correct one.

“Is this really the right thing to do, Gojo-san? Maybe it would be better to discuss this with Hamada-san first.”

Satoru scoffed, “And do what? Ask her if it’s okay for us to off the rest of her clan?”

“Not that way of course,” said Ijichi. “But I believe she deserves to know about their existence.”

Satoru threw the tablet back and Ijichi gasped, catching it with the speed of light albeit not without an initial fumble.

“The point was to keep their existence a secret,” Satoru said. “And to distract them from looking for Yane.”

“But for you to go after them–”

“What’s a better distraction than the strongest sorcerer alive hunting them down?” Satoru grinned.

Ijichi sighed, “Wouldn’t that make it more difficult to search for all of them? They’d hide as soon as they heard about you.”

Satoru cracked his knuckles and pulled down his blindfold, “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll just ask those few survivors for the others’ whereabouts.”

“And if they don’t talk?”

He shrugged, “Then, you’ll just do your thing and find them anyway, Ijichi.”

A chuckle found its way to his lips when Satoru heard Ijichi sighed. He shooed his once underclassman out of the room and closed the door.

The best time to strike iron was when it was hot.

“You’d better not let those old geezers know about this yet,” he warned as they walked. “Well then, how about we started with the closest one on the list, Ijichi?”

“Now?”

Satoru grinned, “Now.”

Need to clarify Yane’s age :)))))))

People be confused rn.

Fix to include more description of the bath and stuff too. Any other conversation to suggest how long Lane had been with them and how much she had grown.

Chapter Text

“Ninety-nine,” Yane yelled. “A hundred!”

She whipped around, scanning the vicinity for anything out of place. The sun was barely out so not a single sign of occupant could be found.

Yane walked casually; arms akimbo as she began the ‘game’.

Satoru had dropped by the morning after the rice ball party, grinning ear-to-ear like he had invented the lightbulb. While he had made himself at home at the kotatsu, asking Maki, Panda, and Yuta about their plans for the next week, Yane had kept herself busy in Inumaki’s room helping him clean the left-over plates and cups from the party.

Truth to be told, she had hoped Satoru would have left by the time they finished but he had stayed as though aware of her intentions.

A soon as she and Inumaki joined the others at the kotatsu, Satoru made the purpose of his visit clear and now Yane found herself, one week later, looking for one fellow classmate a day on campus as additional training.

“Call it hide, seek, and tag,” Satoru had said, referring to the training of her strange ability to sense cursed energy. Maki, ever the serious and proper member of the group, coined it Echolocation as disapproval to Satoru’s other less fancy names.

This game might have sounded like a brilliant idea to Satoru since he was a ‘teacher’ and not the actual person who had to chase people around every day on foot around twenty something buildings while other sorcerers watched on in total confusion. Especially if those people included a Panda who could climb trees, a master of weaponry, a Cursed Speech user who was too fast for his own good, and a Special Grade sorcerer.

To make the matter worse, the ‘tag’ part of the ‘game’ had meant her friends could run if they were found. If Yane couldn’t place a finger on them, or they didn’t call it quit, the game wouldn’t end.

There Yane was, huffing and puffing as she dragged herself around the campus from early morning until late at night one week after.

“Inumaki-kun!” Yane made a throwaway attempt to call.

It was silly of course, if Inumaki would just poke his face out when she called, it wouldn’t have been training at all.

Or so she had thought.

The second Yane called, Inumaki leaned outward from the tree to her left and waved.

“Kelp?”

“What do you mean ‘Kelp’?”

His sudden appearance startled her into a snort. Yane stood in an uncontrollable but muffled round of chortles, holding up her hand towards him.

“Wait,” she cleared her throat. “Give me a second. I didn’t expect you’d just show up. But since you started it…”

Yane darted towards him; hand outreached for the helm of his shirt.

Inumaki spun, easily missing her attack.

“Spicy Cod Roe, Spicy Cod Roe,” he challenged. “Kelp. Fish flakes, salmon.”

“You try wearing this and run,” Yane turned her back, showing him the bow case. The family heirloom was becoming more like an involuntary comfort blanket.

As time passed and Yane came to know Inumaki, she realised he was the residential mischief-maker of the group despite his rather cold appearance. She couldn’t count the number of times she had heard Yuta’s flustered expression and subsequent laughter from the pranks Inumaki pulled on him.

They seemed like great friends, which made Yane a little proud too when Inumaki began to show his more playful side to her. Unlike Maki who was always difficult to locate or capture, Panda who usually gave in half-way for reasons unclear, and Yuta who was too kind and always declared his loss around dinner time, Inumaki was always the most unpredictable.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” she teased. “Usually, you’d hide well but you didn’t today. So, I bet you’re hungry and wanted to end this quickly.”

“Salmon, tuna mayo. Caviar.”

Yane squinted. It was usually difficult to tell what Inumaki wanted to say since he usually hid behind a high collar shirt or mask, but after she had difficulty telling what he wanted to say, whenever it was just the two of them, he would remove anything that would cover his mouth.

Not that it magically made Yane understand him, but at the very least, she could guess from his facial expression.

Right now, he had that usual smirk on, which meant that even though he wanted to end the training early, Inumaki wouldn’t simply settle for something straightforward like a forfeit.

“How about this?” Yane said mirroring his smile. “What if we only fight for today? I’d still need to use Echolocation, so I’ll keep my eyes closed. If I use my eyes then I’ll lose so, if I win, you’ll have to tell the others I beat you. If you win…”

She thought about the perks. Nothing much came to her mind except for Satoru’s gift which he made Ijichi bring to her the other day.

“If you win,” Yane continued. “I’ll share this fancy bread Gojo-sensei bought for me the other day. It’s from that famous bakery near the station. You know that one, right? There’s half a loaf left.”

Inumaki’s eyes shone. He nodded, “Salmon.”

They took their stance and Yane closed her eyes. She activated Echolocation.

Inumaki’s energy rippled in the air before it focused into shape.

He threw the first punch and Yane moved out of the way, deflecting it with her palm.

She twirled, spinning behind him as she threw her own attack.

Inumaki blocked, his cursed energy wavered slightly as he sent an elbow towards her. Right before he launched his attack, there was a hint of energy rising from his arm like a tiny thorn.

Yane ducked and jabbed her knee upwards. Inumaki pushed it down with a palm attack and Yane staggered backwards.

For someone who was both shorter than Maki and less powerful than Panda in terms of raw strength, Inumaki remained a great fighter. Since he was about the same physique as Yane, Inumaki became a reliable source of reference for her.

Every time she watched him spar with Panda and Maki; Yane always learnt something.

Because he couldn’t simply rely on pure brute force, Inumaki was tactical about his attack and flexible in his movement.

“How about this then?”

Yane rushed up to him, jumping right before she got within his attack range. She flipped in the air, using his shoulder as foundation for the spin. Inumaki did this once with Maki and ever since then Yane had been trying to copy it.

She landed with much less grace but for now it would have to do.

Yane kicked the back of his knee before he could change stance and swung her arm underneath his chin, pushing it upward so his body would fall back.

She grinned with triumph as gravity did its job and pulled him down, but just as the energetic shape of his body tipped over, there was a flitting spike around his throat.

“Hey, no fai–”

“Fall,” Inumaki said, and Yane opened her eyes, flailing her arms as her body loss control.

She felt something twisted around her shirt’s collar before her body collided with the dirt of Tokyo Jujutsu High’s yard. She was lucky it was dirt. It would have been a much more painful fall had it been the concrete path.

“Mustard leaf?”

Yane heard and stared upwards. Her stomach stung with a dull ache.

Inumaki’s face hovered above her, casting shadow as she assessed the situation and realised one of his hands was cushioning the back of her head against the ground while the other was holding the neckline of her shirt and pulling it up like it was weed instead of cloth.

“Fish flakes, fish flakes. Tuna mayo. Caviar.”

“I’ll be fine,” Yane groaned, “If you and your knee can stop pushing my stomach towards my lungs.”

Inumaki’s eyes opened like two ‘O’s, and he backed away. He looked away and she could have sworn there was a hint of red on his cheeks.

Once the pressure from his knee disappeared, Yane sat up with a huff. The warmth from his hand lingered on the back of her head.

“I guess you won this one. I did open my eyes. But using your technique isn’t fair!”

“Fish flakes!”

She pouted, “Well, yeah. Technically I didn’t mention it but… okay fine. You can have the rest of the loaf.”

Yane stood, dusting off her clothes before she stretched.

“It’ll have to be in a bit though. I need a shower.”

“Salmon!” Inumaki said, circling her as though to check for something.

“I’m fine,” Yane shooed him. “Your hand probably took most of the hit from my head to be honest.”

He didn’t seem convinced but after Yane spun around, showing a few arm swings, he let the matter die.

“Tuna,” Inumaki pointed at her and then at him, motioning a gesture of eating. “Tuna mayo, spicy cod roe. Salmon?”

“Are you sure?”

Yane pondered the suggestion. It was a fight she proposed, and he hadn’t technically done anything but won it. Still, when someone with better culinary skills offered to make breakfast, one should not be stupid enough to turn down the kind offer.

“Then,” she said. “I’ll look forward to it. Thank you.”

With the promise to bring the bread over once she was done with shower, they parted ways at the top of the dormitory’s staircase. It was a relatively easy morning all things considered and with the amount of training Yane had before her from now, her little spar with Inumaki proved too be insightful.

Maybe next time, she could try using Echolocation in between her spar with Maki and the others. Who knows, it might help Yane block some of those nasty right hooks from Maki.

Yane pulled her bow string back with a deep inhale. Her hand no longer shook. The bow, once unfamiliar and awkward, had become something of an additional limb.

She let go and watched the arrow flew to the target board.

“That’s good,” Maki clapped. She tousled Yane’s hair with a proud grin.

“You’re getting better,” Yuta said as he walked up to them with a wooden sword. It was time for his turn with Maki.

A month had passed since Yane put in extra time for her training. Although it was still early, she could see faintly how the built of her body slowly shifting that of Maki. Subtle lines of muscles began appearing underneath her clothes if her choice of outfit were slightly fitted. Her cursed energy control had gotten better. She could tell with much more accuracy when another sorcerer was near her and how they were planning to attack.

Her adaption to her cursed energy and training was smooth as Satoru noted when she came to him, asking about Echolocation. There was bound to be restrictions and limitations to her own innate technique and Satoru had only managed to retrieve information about some, for others he had made guesses and encouraged her to make guesses of her own.

One thing he was confident about, he had said, was that she had an interesting structure of curse energy along with a high affinity with jujutsu training.

Yane didn’t quite understand much of Satoru’s explanation, but she heard enough to know that she was growing even though her current skill remained quite mediocre compared to the rest of the group.

In response, she started learning martial art with Maki and to channel cursed energy to fortify her body which had made Maki extremely happy. Yane however couldn’t share the same sentiment due to the ungodly hours at which she needed to wake up to secure her training time before mission and classes started.

“Good work,” Panda handed her a tea bottle.

“Kelp,” Inumaki handed her a towel.

“I wish I have a little bit more cursed energy.” Yane whined, popping a ginger candy into her mouth, absolutely in bliss over the sugary spike. “It’s either see the cursed spirit or raise my defence. If I do both, it’s become really exhausting. Not to mention inanimate object kind of just not appear when I used Echolocation.”

“Well, you’re not a bat,” Panda said. “Didn’t Satoru said it only worked with cursed energy.”

“Salmon salmon.”

Yane huffed. She offered them her candies as well to which both politely took one each.

“I know,” she said. “And it’s not even sensitive enough to sense a lower level of output. Not to mention it makes me vulnerable. I don’t like it.”

Inumaki patted her shoulder. “Fish flakes.”

“Yeah,” Panda nodded. “You have us to cover for you too. Don’t rush it.”

Yane’s heart warmed at his response. She grinned and took another sip of drink, enjoying the wind. Summer had passed, leaving them with slightly chilly autumn breeze and quiet nights.

She stretched and lay back on the grass with her eyes closed. In just another month or two, some of these grasses wouldn’t look as vivid green as right now. Inumaki’s garden too would need extra care to pass through the winter. She made a mental note to ask him to let her help.

After that day they completely devoured the fancy bread Satoru bought her, Yane found herself closer to him, almost consciously seeking him out at school.

“Yane-san!”

She sat up at the call.

Yuta was waving at her, a clear line of red flush on his left cheek. Clearly, someone had taken blocked the naginata with his face. Again.

Whatever grade showed on his student ID (which he had somehow lost), during their sparring session, Maki always came out on top.

“Gojo-sensei wants to meet us!” Yuta yelled out from the field, holding up his phone “It’s a mission!”

“Okay!” Yane waved back and stood, heading back to the dorm for a quick rinse.

Once her shower was done and she exited her room, the rest of the group was already at the common space lounging about with cold oolong tea.

Satoru was waiting with them, going through what seemed like messages on his phone as well.

Yuta joined her not long after from the other end of the hallway.

Satoru looked up from his phone.

“I still can’t get used to seeing you your uniform, Yane-chan.”

“You designed the damn thing, you idiot” Maki kicked. “Apologise to her or get used to it.”

“I like it,” Yane dissuaded and thanked Maki when she brought her a cup of tea. “I’m ready any time.”

Satoru downed his tea, “Then let’s go.”

Yane took a big gulp of hers and waved at her three friends, “I’m off!”

“Be safe,” Maki and Panda said, the latter noting. “Tonight’s dinner is paella!”

“Spicy Cod Roe,” Inumaki added.

Both Yane and Yuta held their thumbs up, grinning at them. Then, she paced to the door, slipped into her shoes quickly and fell into steps with Satoru.

“What was that about?”

He hinted at the three inside.

“Oh, that’s just a little thing we do now,” Yuta caught up to them as he explained. “Any time one of us leave for a mission, we’d make sure to say goodbye properly. And greet one another properly when we come back from one. Throw in a special menu too once in a while for motivation.”

“Heh,” Satoru smirked. “Sounds like a good habit.”

“It is,” Yane said simply.

They walked to the car where Ijichi waited. He seemed more tired than usual, so Yane slipped him a soda candy before climbing into the car.

As they started moving, she closed her eyes, and activated her Echolocation.

It became somewhat of a habit for her, either she caught something with it, or she ran out of gas and got a good sleep. The longer she managed to keep it going, the more reason she gave herself to splurge on food and Christmas gift savings.

“So, before the mission, we’ll visit someone,” Satoru said.

Yuta made a fascinated sound, “Who is it, sensei?”

“Oh,” Satoru’s energy fluctuated with the teasing tone of his voice. “Just an interesting little brat about your age.”

Yane opened her eyes. Their teacher’s enigmatic introduction had her intrigued. He rarely referred to anyone as ‘brat’. Certainly not her or any of her classmate, which meant he must be close with whoever this was.

Maybe a relative?

A child?

She quietly did the mental math. Right now, they were sixteen. Satoru was twenty-eight. Twenty-eight minus sixteen.

Yane gasped, immediately opening the chat group with her friends.

‘Hey, is it possible for someone to impregnate another person at 12?’ she wrote.

Almost right after, Yuta made a choking noise next to her.

“Y-Yane-san!?”

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Satoru turned around.

“It’s nothing!” Yane yelped and shook her head at Yuta, signalling with her eyes to Satoru.

‘What is going on with your mission?’ Maki replied, follow by Panda’s two lines of question marks and Inumaki’s reaction stamp.

“I don’t know what it is about, but quiet down back there, okay?” Satoru said. “Ijichi is annoyed.”

“That’s not true,” Ijichi protested weakly. “I’m fine.”

Yuta quickly intervened, punching his reply into the chat as he spoke, “We’ll be quiet.”

Yane checked the message he had just sent.

‘Yane-san, what exactly are you curious about?’

She responded. ‘I just want to know how young someone can be to have a child.’

The chat group was a chaotic mess after that. The whole conversation shifted from her question to accusation thrown around at Yuta while he desperately defended his innocence against accusations of him corrupting Yane’s morals.

Unbeknownst to their teacher and Ijichi, a full trial was unfolding at the back seat of the car.

Each other with their own thoughts and dilemma, they travelled on in silence. All the while, Yane’s concerns and question remained unanswered.

They got off at a hospital. Yane had seen hospital on TV, but this was her first time visiting one. It had more people than she had thought and there was a distinct smell to it, not overbearing but out of place enough for her to notice. Conversations by patrons mixed into each other, elderly asking each other about their families, parents encouraging their children for holding on well with their respective ailments, and a background reports of news on the mounted TV flooded her ears.

“Are we visiting someone sick?” she asked Satoru and he hummed.

“You could say that.”

He fished out his phone and tapped on it, most likely sending a message. A few minutes after they all stood around in the middle of the waiting room, a boy about Yuta’s height ran towards them.

“There he is! Megumi!” Satoru waved.

Opposite to Satoru’s excitement to see him, this Megumi seemed quite displeased.

“Don’t just show up suddenly,” he said, voice lower than even Yuta. Or was it that Yuta’s voice had been of a higher pitch?

Either way, Yane’s interest shifted to the boy whose hair was a resounding contrast to Satoru.

There were little traits on his face that mirrored Satoru’s face as well.

He was handsome, but he wasn’t Satoru Gojo-type of handsome, which to be fair, hardly anyone Yane had seen was. Satoru had that unattainable, intimidating beauty that rivalled even the prettiest model she had seen on magazines.

“He doesn’t look like you, sensei,” Yane said.

“Why would I?” Megumi grumbled.

He had his hand in the pockets of his uniform trouser. His beige jacket made him along with his clothes paled in comparison to her and Yuta.

Yane moved closer to Yuta. Standing near Mr. Pout-a-lot was affecting her mood.

He seemed like the type that would bully other kids. She made up her mind to tell Maki about him. Kids like him needed to get their lessons from people like Maki to know they should be nice to others.

“Introduce yourself, Yane-chan, Yuta-kun,” Satoru gestured to Megumi. “This is Megumi Fushiguro, he’ll be joining Jujutsu High as your underclassman soon.”

“Oh, hello,” Yuta stepped forward, the contrast between their mood was astounding. “I’m Yuta Okkotsu a first year in Jujutsu High. Looking forward to meeting you next year.”

Megumi’s frown softened into a neutral expression.

“Like wise,” he said. His eyes fell on Yane.

She kept herself mostly behind Yuta. “Yane Hamada, hello.”

“Right.”

Satoru smiled, “Yane-chan, Yuta-kun, why don’t you go keep Megumi’s sister company while he and I talk? It won’t be long. She’s in room 302.”

Yane nodded, pulling Yuta away from the grumpy kid and their teacher. He reminded her a little of Maki when they first met, looked a little bit like her too. But he wasn’t Maki. Maki was much kinder and nicer.

Then, perhaps his sister would be like Maki.

The thought made Yane’s chest feel light. She walked a little bit faster, giddy at the thought of meeting a nice girl near her age. Maybe she and Maki and this girl could be friends.

That would be nice.

Megumi knew his future teacher was a liar the second he mentioned ‘won’t be long’.

Between the actual useful information that came out sometimes between Satoru’s gibberish, he had gathered that Tsumiki would be looked after at a hospital in Tokyo when Megumi enrolled. Ijichi would be checking on her sometimes.

He was to study in Jujutsu High as underclassman of those two boys Satoru brought along although he wasn’t sure he really cared for the one in bomber jacket quite as much as the one named Yuta.

Megumi could tell right away, between those three (Satoru included), Yuta was probably the one with the braincells and Bomber Jacket, possibly half of those. He didn’t look put together like Yuta or had his emotions in check.

The upperclassmen in Megumi’s school usually used their title to bother younger students. Well, it wasn’t like there was no problematic second or first year in the school or anything. But Bomber Jacket seemed closer to those problematic kids than Yuta Okkotsu.

“And that’s about it,” said Satoru. “Can you go get my students for their missions? Tell them I’ll be waiting in the car.”

Megumi frowned. Should one not go get their own students instead of ordering a child around?

He complied, nonetheless. He was about to return to Tsumiki’s room anyway. Might as well.

A few steps away from the room, he heard laughter. Clear, bell-like, high-pitch laughter.

“Tsumiki-chan is the same age as us, Yuta-kun! Wouldn’t it be nice if we could go to a movie together? With Maki too!”

Megumi’s heart stopped at the voice. He ran to the door, his hope faltered when he saw Tsumiki still in bed, eyes closed.

It was his mistake. Even for a little bit, he was convinced by the sound, perhaps Tsumiki had woken up, but he knew better. Tsumiki had been cursed. There was no way some rando would be able to wake her up.

Even so, something sparked within him. He would need to be the one to break her out of this, and Jujutsu High was the best place to do it.

His attention landed on Bomber Jacket and for a moment Megumi found himself lost.

In the sun, he saw a bright smile, and round cheekbones which had been hidden underneath the dark navy cap before.

Yane-chan, Satoru had called her.

Of course, he had concluded it himself, overly confident in his judgement. Megumi was wrong. Bomber Jacker wasn’t a boy.

The soft halo and twinkling eyes as she chatted with Yuta about all the things that she and Tsumiki could do once Tsumiki woke up were all the proof he needed.

Megumi walked over to them.

“Excuse me,” he said.

Yane flinched at his voice. She was quick to put her cap back on and Megumi thought it was challenging to not see her as anything other than a teen boy averaging first-year junior high. Height-wise, especially.

“Gojo-san said he’s waiting for you in the car.”

“Oh, thank you,” Yuta said and stood, signalling for his company to leave.

Yane nodded and with a quiet “see you someday”, she left Tsumiki.

“Excuse me, Hamada-san,” Megumi called after her. “I look forward to meeting you at school too.”

Yane’s eyes widened in surprise, but they soon crescent, accompanied by a gentle smile.

“Me too, Fushiguro-kun,” she said. “See you next year!”

Megumi stood until he could no longer hear her happy skipping steps and cheerful banter with Yuta. He turned to Tsukimi, noticing something reflecting light inside her hand.

“A candy?” He said to himself and placed the sweet on the counter.

It was a brief but overall pleasant meeting. A faint smile graced his lips when Megumi thought back to the plans Yane was making as if Tsumiki was listening. He had a feeling though that she was.

Megumi held her hand.

“Hurry up and wake up,” he said. “There’re so many fun things for you to do and people waiting for you, Tsumiki.”

Chapter Text

After the hospital, Ijichi dropped them off at a broken-down hotel in the middle of the forest. Illuminated by nothing but the moon and the car’s headlight, the five-story building loomed over Yane and Yuta, casting a thick, dark veil of shadow onto them.

Satoru had elected to stay outside of the Veil, stating his trust for their capability.

Yane gave him a hesitant glance at first, but her pride swelled when he smiled and assured her that her efforts in training would not betray her.

She entered the hotel with Yuta, bow clutched in her hand.

“Ah, no wonder there would be a cursed spirit here,” he said. “It looks like something straight out of a horror movie. Yane-san, watch your step. The structure doesn’t seem stable enough.”

Yane stuck closer, “Is this how buildings in horror movies look?”

Yuta shrugged, “Depend on the movie, I guess? Would you like to watch one with everyone when we’re back? Inumaki-kun knew a bunch of good ones. Although some might be a bit much for me.”

“Can we?” Yane practically yelped. The thought of cosying up in the kotatsu with friends for her first movie sounded absolutely endearing. “Let’s do that!”

They needed to end the mission quickly if this was the case. Paella and horror movie would be a blast. The faster they got rid of the cursed spirits, the faster they would get to the food and the festivity, which meant the faster Yane could locate their targets, the faster Yuta would be able to get rid of them.

She closed her eyes and sent out her cursed energy.

Echolocation picked up quite a few splotches throughout the building but nothing overly complicated.

It was dark where they stood, and Yane had a feeling it would be even tougher to see once they go deeper.

“How is it?” Yuta unsheathed his sword.

She handled the light torch and moved it from one side of the empty lobby in which they stood to the other. The carpet greyed from the dust and every step they took kicked up a storm of miniscule, glimmering specks.

Yane covered her nose and mouth as she manoeuvred around a fallen luggage cart. Given the amount of time it must have taken for this much dust to gather and the distinct western theme of the hotel, it must have been quite a spectacle back in its golden days.

“A few third grade and maybe one second grade? Nothing other than that. Do you want to split up or stay together?”

Yuta smiled, “Let’s stay together. It’s never good to split up in a horror movie.”

Yane took the advice and kept by Yuta’s side.

Her stomach growled and she distracted herself with the torn photos on the wall and broken frames on the floor. Large, dark curtains draped over tilted rods, blocking out half of the hallway from view.

“Yane-san,” Yuta called for her attention.

He pointed at the end of the hallway. Yane activated Echolocation.

It was a cursed spirit.

Had it not been for Yuta, Yane would have simply walked straight there.

She told herself to increase the frequency of Echolocation on their way from then lest she walked straight into a cursed spirit.

Yuta unsheathed the sword, but Yane put her hand out and gave him a signal.

He stood back, hand at the hilt as he waited for her to handle the cursed spirit.

Satoru said her training would prove fruitful. It was time to present him with evidence.

Eyes closed, Yane drew on her own energy, waiting for it to form into arrows as she pulled the bowstring. She sent out multiple shots at the cursed spirit, only stopping when her Echolocation couldn’t pick them up anymore.

They proceeded, going up the stairs until they reach the last floor.

Every floor there had been a cursed spirit wandering about, but they were all lower grade and took little efforts to handle.

Yuta stopped her at the top of the stair once they were on the fifth floor and Yane activated Echolocation again. This one was a bit trickier than the rest of them.

In the open space, accidentally created by a half-collapsed ceiling, the moon shone on a patch of red carpet where heavy wooden doors fell and scrunched up the fabric, creating waves between the carpet and the flooring.

A dark shadow glid along the path, moving its foggy shade on the mouldy yellow wall like the rhythm of a slow waltz.

“I’ve got it,” Yuta said and dashed forward.

Yane kept her eyes close, observing his form that was a white flame fleeted around the space. He jumped between something and then up high. His form fell on the cursed spirit and the thick, slimy darkness dispersed almost in an instance.

“Phew… I think we’re done,” Yuta said.

But just as he was walking towards her, Yane saw something behind him. Something big, and suffocating. Something new that her Echolocation hadn’t picked up on prior, dark like shadow itself, and so big she must have disregarded it for actual darkness instead of a cursed spirit.

“Yuta-kun!”

She rushed over, bowstring drawn at full strength. Yane released the attack into the and checked. The spirit hadn’t disappeared or even wavered.

Yuta blocked the cursed spirit with his sword, flipping backwards to avoid an attack.

“I’m so sorry,” Yane growled, preparing another attack. “I should have picked up this one correctly.”

“It’s fine, Yane-san. I didn’t see it until now either. It’s dangerous so go get Gojo-sensei. Something isn’t right here.”

She shook her head.

“I’m not about to just leave you alone here to deal with” she gestured to the spirit’s direction “that. It’s clearly different from what we just fought.”

Yane fished out her phone and pressed on the number one.

“Currently, your call cannot be made. You might be experiencing difficulty due to lack of service or–”

“Damn it!” Yane shoved the phone back into her pocket. “I can’t call him.”

“Try shooting at the Veil,” Yuta advised. “See if it’ll break.”

She followed, sending a shot as far as she could at the greenish screen on Echolocation. Her frustration grew when the attack didn’t even chip the Veil. Ijichi did some great work. Thanks to that she and Yuta were in quite a pinch.

“Not working!” she shouted back to Yuta and turned around, aiming her bow at the cursed spirit.

As if it knew what Yane was thinking, the cursed spirit disappeared, moving so fast to a different location that she couldn’t change the attack direction.

She heard something broke on impact. The spirit zigzagging through the hallway.

Her blood chilled.

Yane opened her eyes and ran through the rubbles as fast as she could towards Yuta.

Once she reached him, Yane closed her eyes again and took another shot at the spirit. Her attack landed this time and seemed to have done some proper damage.

The spirit staggered back.

Yuta made for it again and Yane raised her bow. The spirit jumped, she lifted her aim and released.

“Yane-san!! Run!”

She heard Yuta shouted and her eyes snapped open. As soon as she saw bits and pieces of the ceiling raining for her, Yane knew it was too late.

The spirit was right above Yuta. If he didn’t dodge, it would hurt him.

Time slowed.

Yane closed her eyes. She pulled the string again. It wasn’t a technique, Satoru had said. Nothing more than a more powerful attack than her usual ones, but this was the best thing to do given the circumstances.

The air stung in her nose as she poured more and more of her energy into the arrow. It glistened in Echolocation.

In the olden days, people had always shot arrow to vanquish evil. Bowstring twanging would have frightened any ghost and negative. Yane was simply doing something in the same way, so if this one attack was to banish harm coming towards her friend, it would become powerful and accurate enough to blast those horrible things away.

The arrow hardened, cold like metal.

“Dodge this,” she smirked and let go of the string.

She could hear Yuta’s scream before a sharp pain took over her shoulder and left torso.

Yane hit the ground, pressed against the concrete by a sudden and bone-breaking force. Her head felt as though it was on fire the second it slammed against the floor. Something warm tricked down her face and then seeped into her shirt along with the pain.

Yane kept her eyes close as the last bit of her energy poured into Echolocation.

The spirit was gone.

“Good,” she said to herself, but her pride dulled by the panic in Yuta’s voice as she heard him rushed towards her.

She could hear him tripping over something and his body fell with a soft thud once he caught himself.

He kept calling her name but the warm liquid trickling down her face made its way into her ears and soon enough, Yuta’s voice drowned out as though they were both underwater.

Yane’s eyes fluttered open, and she lifted her arm towards him. The action itself sent a jolt of electricity through her bone. She clutched onto the school’s crest on his jacket.

What a waste, Yane thought, almost bursting out laughing when her stomach growled even when her head felt like it was being split open.

“Paella,” she croaked.

Her arm lost its grip and Yane plundered into darkness. Yuta was right. Even just for a second, it was a horrible decision to stayed apart from each other. Splitting up in a horror movie was a bad call.

Yuta couldn’t stop shaking.

Even after the kind nurse had helped him to the bathroom so he could wash off the blood from his hands, the warm, sickly sensation of it trickling through his finger remained.

“She’d be fine”, Satoru had said. “Out of danger.”

They didn’t have time to drive he all the way back to the school, so Ijichi sped them to the nearest local hospital with a viable surgery room. Ieiri arrived an hour later and got to work immediately.

She had declared Yane safe, only resting to let her body recover. Although there would be a scar on the side of Yane’s head where the concrete hit since a bit of time had passed since the injury. Otherwise, nothing to worry about.

Yet, Yuta found himself planted to the hallway bench, recalling a recent mission where he had been the one sitting out here and his partner had ended up on a hospital bed.

Even so, he thought, she could have died.

Yuta clutched his hands together to dispel the phantom weight of Yane’s limp body on it when he had rushed her out of the hotel. Suddenly their promise to say proper goodbyes was foreign and dreadful. It felt like he was accepting his friends’ potential demise, like their deaths wouldn’t matter to him because it could happen anytime.

“Yuta.”

He looked up at Maki’s voice. Inumaki was with her as they stood in front of him, Maki in her uniform but Inumaki in his casual wear.

“She needs absolute rest for a day or two,” he informed them.

Maki nodded, “We heard from Satoru.”

Yuta’s chest tightened. If they had been told the story from Satoru then they would also have known that he had failed to protect Yane, that he, once again, was the reasons someone ended up in the hospital.

“I’m sorry, guys,” his voice broke, crushed by guilt. “It’s my fa–”

“Stop,” Maki cut him off.

She nodded at Inumaki who entered the hospital room before settling down one chair away from Yuta.

“Don’t utter any of that crap in front of Yane once she wakes up. It’s annoying.”

“But it’s true,” he protested. “If I was a bit stronger, if I had paid more attention…”

Maki turned to him, “I’ve been thinking this for a while but why are you always acting like you’re the main character of everyone’s story? Is it the Special grade title that’s getting to your head?”

“Of course not!”

He shrunk in surprised of his own outburst.

“It’s not,” he repeated weakly.

“From what I heard; you told her to run.”

Yuta nodded.

“Then it’s not your fault,” Maki concluded. “It’s not Yane’s fault either. This is just how it is.”

She sighed, rubbing the sides of her head.

“Honestly, that girl is pretty easy to read but she does the darnedest thing sometimes. I didn’t know what was in her head when she didn’t run, but she made a choice right? A choice that she thought was right.”

“But she got hurt,” Yuta argued.

“Because you were there that it stopped at her getting hurt,” Maki stressed. “Do you want to imagine a scenario where you died trying to fight that cursed spirit and it came down to her fighting it alone? Then what?”

Yuta quieted.

Maki was right.

If Yane hadn’t put her arrow through the spirit and he hadn’t used that chance to finish it, they might have both been dead. But there was something restless inside of him that couldn’t accept it.

She got hurt, but he didn’t.

“Go back, Yuta,” Maki said. “Get some rest and cool your head. I’ve got a two-day mission so you and Toge will be taking turns looking after Yane until she’s discharged.”

Yuta nodded.

“Think carefully about what you want to say to her. If you want to protect her, then get stronger. If protection is really what Yane is looking from you.”

He watched Maki stood.

She must have been shaken as well since she had taken a real shine to Yane as of late, but she hadn’t let it show. In fact, she seemed more composed than usual given the situation.

Oh, Yuta heard himself. This is why Maki is stronger regardless of grade.

And he wondered what it would take him to one day be like her, or if he would ever be as strong as her at all. Yuta hope that he would. He’d like that–to be able to stand proud next to her and earn her respect as someone of equal, unwavering strength.

Yane remembered seeing the most vivid violet colour when she opened her eyes. It was like starting directly into amethyst under the sun. Each fractal line of it breathlessly mesmerising.

She closed her eyes, groaning from a sudden dull pain on the left side of her head.

“Paella,” she mumbled.

To her distaste, the only thing she could smell was that strange, overbearing scent of disinfectant.

“Mustard leaf!”

Yane turned to the voice, “Oh, Inumaki-kun. Good morning.”

Inumaki nodded, his shoulders lowered as if he was finally relaxed.

She scanned the room as he pressed the nurse call, finally taking in the full view of her situation. It was far from morning. Closer to dusk if anything. Her entire body was sore, like she hadn’t moved for a few days.

Had it been a few days?

What day was it even…

A doctor came around not long after to ask Yane a few questions. None of which were difficult, but she was happy still to see the doctor satisfied with her answers. A few of those had been the last things she could remember and upon receiving a confirmation from Inumaki, Yane shared her memories of the mission, of the spirit and of Yuta.

She choked upon the memory of his voice. Yuta wasn’t in the same room as her. Could it be he was in a different room? Had something worse happened?

“What about Yuta-kun?” Yane turned to Inumaki in haste. “Is he okay?”

“Salmon,” Inumaki said, but his word didn’t seem quite fully genuine.

Yane doubted it was. Even if he wasn’t hurt physically, she must have given Yuta a scared. Yuta was kind. Knowing him, he must have been blaming himself for her current state.

She wasn’t allowed to move from the bed or even sit up, at least not until the doctor cleared her. He didn’t look like he would do that for another twelve hours.

The pillow sure was soft, the blanket sure was warm but staying in bed was so tedious Yane wanted to just disappear. She focused her boredom onto the room, disappointed by the white-on-white décor until her gaze fell on a flower that fit right into the theme.

“White chrysanthemum,” Yane chuckled. “Meaning get well soon?”

“Salmon,” said Inumaki.

He was immersed in schoolwork, using the bedside table as his make-shift study desk and wrestled with the reading assignment. Despite her assurance that he could return to the dorm, Inumaki had declined. Judging by the way he brought his book and notes with him, it appeared staying was his plan from the start.

Yane couldn’t help but smile. Her friends must have talked it through and decided to keep an eye on her.

She held a fistful of blanket, trying to keep her tears at bay.

“Inumaki-kun,” Yane called, trying to distract herself with a conversation. “What are you reading?”

He held up the page for her to see. It was ‘Heart’ by Souseki Natsume. She hadn’t gotten to that yet but heard it was a difficult read.

“Can I read it too?” Yane requested.

Inumaki seemed slightly troubled, looking between his notes and her. Hesitantly, he rested his pen and put his hand over her eyes, keeping them shut.

“Tuna mayo. Fish flakes.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” she complained. “I’ve been sleeping. It’s difficult to sleep now.”

Inumaki didn’t move his hand. Yane reached up, trying to pry it off.

“Fish flakes,” he chided. His hand was warm, not smooth but not so rough. It was gentle like the glow of a match in the middle of the night.

The image of his widen eye staring at her during their spar flashed through her mind and Yane blushed, giving up her struggle.

Truth to be told, once she closed her eyes, she had felt a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over her aching body. But sleeping felt so unfair, like she was leaving Inumaki to this lonesome hospital room and tough report even though he was here for her.

Determined, Yane changed tactics.

“How about you read it for me?”

His hand twitched, a clear sign that he had heard her.

“That way you could still do your assignment and I won’t be bored?”

Inumaki retracted his hand, silent as he considered. He picked up his pen again but also pulled down the usual teal scarf he had on; the last few rays of the daylight framed his face. With a quiet, deep breath, he began:

“Salmon, tuna tuna, tuna mayo.”

Yane snorted, unable to contain her amusement.

“Wait–Wait–Wait. Sorry, Inumaki-kun. I don’t understand a thing,” she struggled between laughs.

Inumaki’s face reddened but he took a moment and joined her with low, relax chuckles.

Yane took a breath and close her eyes again, “But I like your voice. It’s very nice.”

The admission brought an unexpected rush of heat to her cheeks. That ‘Heart’ piece would be shelved for another time when she wouldn’t be bound remain lying down on the bed and could savour the words of the author.

It didn’t mean Yane would give up on the special audio rendition of it either.

She blamed her greed on the fact that she was hit in the head and indulged it.

Yane wasn’t lying about her fondness of Inumaki’s voice either. She had always found the way his voice dipped when he was serious or when he was focus quite dashing. The difference between Inumaki around his friends and when he was on a mission was refreshing to see.

He was trustworthy on a mission, but he was fun and comforting to be around when it was just him, the others and her. Inumaki wasn’t overtly talkative, but it never really seemed like he had to be. His concise response in the chat group was plenty evident he needn’t many words to deliver his point.

They never forced him to speak in any other manner but as himself and just like she could be herself around him and the others, and Yane couldn’t help but become aware once again how thankful she was that he was around.

“Inumaki-kun,” Yane whispered. “Thank you. I mean it.”

“Salmon,” he replied before returning to ‘Heart’ the rice ball fillings rendition.

Soon enough she got used to the ridiculous nature of her very own audiobook. Her focus shifted to the rhythm in his voice, the ebbing and flowing of intonation that produced a stable stream of sound.

She had finally learned to decipher what he meant through context and his intonation. When it was hard to guess, Inumaki never failed to clarify with either a cute drawing or body language.

As much as she wanted to fit in with them, he was trying to make sure she didn’t feel left out of the group based on communication.

Yane turned to look at him, focused on his task, platinum blonde hair dyed with the orange shade of sunset. She had thought many things to be beautiful. Like flowers, like the blue sky, like the green grass on their training ground. Like Satoru’s eyes and Yuta’s smile. Like Panda’s adorable round rice balls and Maki’s increasing, ever-present strength. Like this chrysanthemum on the side of her bed.

Like Inumaki in the late afternoon sky, she mentally added.

“Pretty,” she told herself as she felt her consciousness drifted right when she noticed his violet eyes.

He was pretty, indeed.

When Yane woke again, Inumaki was no longer next to her. Instead, she found Yuta, or to be more exact, he made himself found the second she opened her eyes.

“Yane-san!”

She winced at the volume but followed it with a smile.

“Sorry,” he squeaked. “Was I too loud? How are you feeling? Would you like some water?”

Yane craned her neck, pushing with her right arm to seat. Yuta offer his hand immediately, stabilising her. Seeing that he hadn’t tried to stop her immediately when she moved, the doctor must have given the all-clear.

Yuta placed the pillow upright against her back, cushioning her body as she leaned against the wall.

The scenery through her hospital window was a dark navy, sprinkled with streetlamps and car lights.

“It’s already night-time,” Yane noted.

“Yes,” said Yuta. “Inumaki-kun left two hours ago for a mission so I switched.”

She turned to him, “Have you eaten yet?”

Yuta shook his head, “I didn’t feel hungry.”

Yane frown at his answer. She lifted her arm towards him, planning a forehead flick when he flinched away before she was anywhere near his personal space.

Her frown deepened.

Yuta was easy to read, not his thoughts but his emotions. He wasn’t like Maki who put all her anger and frustration forward, or Inumaki who was basically a puzzle in the beginning. Yuta, underneath his constant soft-spoken voice and polite expression, always seemed as if he was afraid of something. Sometimes, that something had seemed like himself.

Like now.

“That’s no good,” Yane reached for his arm instead, patting them how she would lure a cranky baby back to sleep. “If you don’t eat then the paella would go to waste. You have to eat my share too.”

“But–”

Yuta’s eyes misted over and his cheek flushed red.

Yane shook her head and waited for the dull pain to subside before she spoke.

“That’s no good.”

He must have been in so much pain. That was always how it was. Yane hadn’t taken the injuries which Maki had before they met but it didn’t mean she could look away from her friend’s scars. Her heart had ached the same, and she knew Yuta’s heart must be aching right now too.

“No matter the shape, all it ever takes is a little bit of help to get the rice ball back together, right?” Yane smiled. “I was really happy to hear that. But Yuta-kun, you know the same thing applies to you, right?”

She brushed her hand over the white chrysanthemum.

“Whatever grace you guys gave me; you should expect the same from me too. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Yane leaned forward, wrapping her arms over Yuta’s trembling figure and rubbing his back in circle.

“Seems I ended up hurting you this time. There there,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I’m back, Yuta-kun. Thanks to you.”

He leaned into her hug, quietly sobbing by her ears. What a kind soul he was, crying for her sake. Even when he accepted her comfort, he didn’t put all his strength on her.

It was as though there would be no danger or pain in the world that could reach her in his arms, and she wondered if having a strong, powerful, confident person like Maki was the closest thing she felt to having a sister, then would this kind, delicate teenage boy in her arms would be akin to that of a protective brother.

She would love that very much.

“Welcome back, Yane-san,” Yuta sniffed. “Thank you for coming back.”

Yane pulled away, reaching for a tissue on the bedside table and offered it to him.

“Any time,” she grinned. “Now, can we both get something to eat because I’m starving!”

Chapter Text

Yane would argue that the next worst thing to being stuck in a hospital bed for two days was being stuck in her room for a whole week, banned from training. It wasn’t even that serious of an injury anymore. Ieiri’s Reversed Cursed Technique had done wonders. The only thing remotely resembled a problem, it would be how groggy Yane felt after the treatment and a few hours of sleep would fix that right as rain.

Yane used the time to catch up with her schoolwork. Who knew boredom would make reading difficult text by people that lived years before her so suddenly interesting.

Inumaki came around often as well. Yuta must have told him about the ‘horror movies and paella’ chat between them because even though paella was missing, Inumaki was always ready with his laptop, various types of snacks, a full bottle of soda and different movie recommendations.

Her current favourite was Perfect Blue, but every day Inumaki would bring a new movie and it would be just as good or sometimes better.

How amazing, Yane usually thought as she watched. Inumaki seemed to know so many things. It was beyond the movies. YouTube videos, books, cooking, gardening, and Cursed Speech; his life was always sparkling in comparison to hers.

She found herself wanting to see more of it and to know more of it. Jealous and privileged that she had been given a peek into his world, but at the same time, anxious when she saw how lacking hers was.

When her friends were busy and couldn’t keep her company, Yane would try to practice Reverse Cursed Technique. It had been the thing to save her life so it would be an important asset to have in her arsenal, but easier said than done.

One week later and Yane was nowhere close to using it.

Yuta in the meanwhile had, and despite his effort to help, it appeared he was no legendary teacher who would teach a rock to walk because that was how Yane felt. She was a rock. A big, dumb one.

An actual teacher, however, came by for visit.

Yane was over the moon when Satoru cleared her for training before he left. He also left a ton of bags in her room filled with clothing and other items for which she thanked him, but those were secondary compared to her great freedom.

Despite Maki’s protest, Yane sided with Satoru. Anymore failed attempt of Reversed Cursed Technique and she might reverse the crap out of her room.

On his words, Yane was out, in her training gear and slowly regaining her stamina.

She was still behind compared to the rest of the group, but if the forceful attempt at acquisition of a new technique had taught her anything, it would be actual aptitude triumphed over one’s will.

Once their running goal was completed, they divided into pairs for combat training.

Maki’s critical conclusion of Yane’s lack of skill in close combat was a weakness primed for exploitation by her opponent, especially cunning ones. Thus, she declared that rather than someone who’s straight-forward and highly technical like her, it would do Yane well to learn from someone nimble.

Like Inumaki.

He pointed to the space not too far from Yuta and Maki and Yane nodded, following him after chugging a third of her sport drink.

Inumaki was decked out in comfortable, dark clothes, contrasting his scarf. He seemed too relaxed, different from Maki who got into her stance as soon as the combat began.

“So,” Yane raised her hand. “Do I just start attacking you? Just no Echolocation?”

Inumaki nodded. Something shifted in the air around him.

Yane pressed her lips together. She was wrong. He was in his serious mode.

She lunged forward, swinging a punch at him. He jumped back. The punch pulled her balance and she stumbled.

Inumaki was fast and his dodge was effortless.

Yane twisted herself, using the momentum of the punch to send a back kick towards him.

He countered it with ease and pushed her ankle to the ground.

She was on her back, open and vulnerable so she did the smartest thing then and rolled away, taking out her new weapon. Maki had showed her a thing or two with the wooden practice knife.

The blade was shorter than Yuta’s sword, but it did its job with close combat.

“Mind if we switch it up?” she held the blade towards him.

Inumaki shrugged, extending his hand with crescent eyes and challenged her.

Yes. All was fair in war. If she wanted to win against someone like him in a fight like this, she shouldn’t be lamenting something like fairness. A curse spirit wouldn’t be up for a fair fight anyway.

Yane swung at Inumaki.

He blocked with wrists crossed and twisted her hand to force the weapon out of her hold.

Yane released the blade and caught it with her other arm.

“Gotcha,” she said, then regrated it immediately when Inumaki spun behind her.

He landed a kick, too quickly for her to block.

Yane staggered backwards. Her muscle stung. Even though she hardened her stomach with cursed energy, she could feel the force behind his attack. Despite their previous spar, Inumaki never failed to amaze her with his ability.

He was clever, adaptive and had more speed than she did, both in terms of movements and reactions. It was going to be a while before she could outright beat him.

In an outright and upstanding manner that is, she thought and made a motion for her bow case.

He rushed towards her, lowering his scarf but she knew he wouldn’t use Cursed Speech. They weren’t supposed to hurt one another in training. Well, not badly anyway, and since Inumaki was kind before he was her opponent, it was entirely possible that he was bluffing.

But if he wasn’t, then as long as he couldn’t utter a single word, his technique was no worries.

She threw the knife towards him, and he turned his body, dodging the projectile but didn’t slow down.

Yane gauged his movement and caught his elbow, twisting his trajectory to the ground. She rolled with him, using the momentum to push herself upright before Inumaki could.

She pinned her knee on his other arm. One of her hands pressed over Inumaki’s mouth, effectively blocking his technique. The other stopped as a fist next to his temple.

Yane let out a deep breath, keeping an eye on any possible counterattack from him.

Inumaki’s lips quivered under her fingers as he stared up at her, eyes wide.

“That’s one for Yane!” Panda announced and she flinched.

Yane climbed off Inumaki so he could get up. All the intensity of the fight rushed to her face, making it hot. Her hands shook so she hid them in her pockets and made her way to the sport drinks. The heat, the slight dizziness that she got when she accidentally met Inumaki’s eyes must have been dehydration.

It had been a bit since she last drank something.

“Mustard leaf?”

Yane spat the drink out when she heard his voice right next to her ears. She nodded, trying to avoid Inumaki’s gaze.

If she saw them, Yane had a sinking feeling she might start staring. It had been difficult to disregard his attention as of late. If anything, she was leaning more on the side of aiming for it.

“I’m good. It’s just kinda hot,” she spoke quickly.

“Salmon.”

Inumaki fanned his shirt as they sat and the fight between Yuta and Maki unfolded. He seemed nonchalant enough, which meant he must not have noticed Yane’s recent curiosity.

Panda waved her over, offering his fluffy arm so Yane could lean on it and rest. Ever since she returned from the hospital, he had been fussing over her, stating he hadn’t been able to visit because of the hospital’s strict no-panda policy. Yane didn’t decline. It wasn’t everyday she got to have her own personal hug pillow.

“Yuta got better, huh?” Panda said to which Inumaki readily agreed.

Yane joined in, humming her assent, and propping her chin up with her knuckles as she keyed Yuta’s swift movements as reference into her mind.

It would have been nice if she could improve as fast as he did too.

Satoru said she was supposed to be some sort of Special grade cursed tool but her ‘special’ compared to Yuta’s ‘special’ felt like heaven and earth.

He could single-handedly take down a second-grade spirit, meanwhile she was forever stuck with third grade and below. Anything more than that and Yane was less an asset and more a liability.

“G’ morning, everyone!”

Spoke of the devil, Satoru appeared with a hearty greeting. Too loud and casual for someone of his standing.

Yuta and Maki stopped their spar and approached. They all waited for Satoru to make his way over. The man walked as if he was born with a slightly crooked spine and the spirit of a wandering snail.

“Your dear teacher has good news and bad news. Which one would you like to hear first?”

“Aren’t you already the bad news?” Maki grumbled to Satoru’s delight.

“Tensed since morning I see,” he cackled. “Gather around, kids. You’d regret not hearing this. It’s about Yane and her mission with Yuta-kun the other day.”

Satoru made himself at home, going through their plate of rice crackers as though his purpose in life was to empty it.

The group gathered around the kotatsu, Maki by Yane’s side with her scary face on as she watched Satoru reached for his seventh treat.

“Get on with it, Satoru,” she demanded and pulled the bowl away, before taking one out and handing it to Yane.

“All right then. Good news first,” Satoru started. “Yane-chan will be joining your classes from next semester.”

The news drew a cheer from Yane.

Studying alone wasn’t the worst, but she’d love to have something to complain about with her friends instead of just asking for their advice when it came to assignments.

It had made her felt like a bit of an idiot.

Even if she was, Yane would eat a shoe before she admitted it.

Satoru continued, taking a bite out of the rice cracker. The force of his bite broke what was left of it in half.

“Another good news is about Yane-chan’s ability,” he wiped the corner of his mouth before turning his attention to her. “You’ve gotten tangled with quite a few Binding Vows, missy.”

Maki frowned, “Meaning?”

“Meaning even if generally she is nowhere near as strong as me, there will be instances where she could get close. All we must do is find out when and how.”

“Is that good news?” Panda scratched behind his ear. “Besides, is it okay for you to tell us all of this?”

“In a way, yes.” Satoru clapped the crumbs off his hands.

Yane couldn’t help but noticing he was doing that directly onto the kotatsu, which meant they would have to wet wipe the surface later.

She frowned as Satoru spoke, her eyes on the crumbs.

“As long as she doesn’t overdo it, she’d stay under the radar and there would be no reason for pesky old, short, loud, obnoxious–”

“We get it,” Maki rolled her eyes.

“–gnats to attack her. Since only I, and now you kids, know about her, if we keep our mouths shut, Yane-chan will be safe and supported. Otherwise, something worse will.”

Yuta raised his hand, “What do you mean ‘something worse’, sensei?”

Satoru smiled.

“That leads us to the bad news. It’s likely Yane-chan is being watched. Assuming none of us said anything, and they got to her then that means those people were aware of her location.”

Maki squeezed Yane’s arm.

She leaned closer to Maki, feeling a chill from Satoru’s warning.

Who was it that had been watching her? What did they want? And more importantly, from where were they watching her? Nothing had appeared on her Echolocation. Granted, it wasn’t as good as she had wanted it to be.

“Well,” their teacher shrugged. “Given that she is a weapon created through painstaking work, that would make sense. The Hama clan might have fallen but they’re not exterminated. Even now there are survivors waiting for their chance to get their hands on her.”

Yane squirmed in her seat.

“So, what does the school plan to do with her?” Maki stiffened. “Can the school keep her safe? Or does it plan to?”

Satoru opened the package of his eighth rice crackers.

“For the most part, sure. But after her last mission, the Hama survivors pretty much knew of her existence and location.”

“How?” Yuta gasped to which Satoru answered with utmost nonchalance.

“It’s not that difficult. First, she was wearing the uniform. Second, the place we sent you and Yane-chan to exorcise was an abandoned base of the Hama clan. I bet they’ve been camping out there.”

Maki slammed her fist into the kotatsu. Yane flinched at the sudden aggression. Panda and Inumaki didn’t seem happy either, but she was glad they hadn’t channelled it through unannounced violence.

“You!” Maki shouted, ready to jump at Satoru who seemed strangely calm for someone incurring Maki’s wrath.

“The first grade cursed spirit wasn’t part of the plan but thanks to that we confirmed they had been suspicious about her… and possibly testing her. We weren’t going to be able to keep Yane-chan hidden forever anyway. Not unless we kept her locked up and away.”

Satoru turned to Yane, and she shivered from the subtle smile on his lips. She knew exactly what he meant: this happened because she had left.

“Lucky us and too bad for those idiots,” Satoru said. “Her full power won’t be activated unless certain conditions are met.”

“Like a semiconductor?” Yane blurted.

Satoru cheered, clapping at Yane, much to Maki’s annoyance, “Exactly! What a smart kid you are.”

She blushed.

Maki frowned as she interrupted, “And? Those conditions are?”

Satoru pointed to her and the boys, beaming, “Your immediate or imminent danger.”

He turned back to Yane.

“Yane-chan, I heard from Yuta-kun that your last attack during your mission was extra powerful. Noticed anything different from your usual training?”

“I supposed I was more determined to inflict damage. I thought that if I were to be cut from the fight then I’d make my shot stronger so Yuta-kun won’t have a hard time.”, she said with caution, confused when Satoru snapped his fingers.

“There you have it.”

“Don’t tell me,” Maki shook Yane by her shoulders. “Did you make a Binding Vow with yourself?!”

“Most likely,” Satoru answered for her. “On the positive side, it means unless you kids are in danger, Yane-chan would be around the ranking of a third-grade sorcerer at most which means she won’t attract any more unwanted attention from…” he gestured up “Unless she continued to raise her level, but that won’t be until a while later.”

Yane swallowed hard. Emotions swirled within but she couldn’t decide if they were positive or negative. Becoming stronger every time her friends were in danger was a wonderful thing. It meant she could help them. But if there were people looking to take her away, then being with her would bring unnecessary danger.

“However,” Satoru raised his index finger. “There are several points we need to remember about Yane-chan’s situation. Her bow is bounded to her by another’s Biding Vow. Destroying the bow could mean fatal for her.”

Maki looked as though she was about to speak when Satoru shrugged.

“Well, it’s not like that bow is fragile. Maybe a good punch from me will do but otherwise we should be safe.”

“Oh, that’s good,” said Yuta.

Satoru added another finger.

“Second, because of her self-binding vow, chances are that if she tries to use her full power for anything else other than what was promised, or deliberately ignore that promise, or attack anyone which doesn’t fit the conditions of the promise, she’ll suffer some sort of rebound.”

Toge crossed his arms, “Tuna… Fish flakes. Tuna mayo.”

Satoru nodded, “You’re right. It does hinge on interpretation though.”

He continued with another finger.

“Lastly, because of her indicated grade on the student ID and background, there’s likely people within the jujutsu world unaware of her situation who would give her trouble.”

“As if we’ll let them,” Maki said. The boys nodded, voicing their agreement along with her.

Satoru lower his hand, and cup his chin with his knuckle like he was a schoolgirl listening to gossips.

“Yane-chan should be safe for now, lest higher-ups are stupid enough to let leak information. I do believe that a promotion to grade three is necessary, however. As is constant company in case some dum-dum was plotting a kidnapping.”

His expression darkened for a fleeting moment before he returned to his usual energetic self and grinned at Yane.

“Although, making a Binding Vow to activate your full strength when your friends are in danger, huh? Such a good kid. I’m proud of you!”

He tousled her hair, but his eyes were on the snack bowl again as he spoke.

“Be careful though. Even if it’s only for a little bit, if you try to put too much air into a balloon, it’ll pop. You know what I mean right?”

Yane nodded.

“You’ll need to grow the vessel if you want to hold more power. For now, your surge of energy might last for only a short amount of time,” Satoru continued. “But even one moment could be the deciding factor in a victory or a loss, so you need to be smart about using it.”

“Or just don’t use it at all,” Maki added.

“That’s up to Yane-chan,” Satoru countered. “She’ll eventually need to decide what she wants to do.”

Yane mused over his words. Frankly, it wasn’t hard for her to imagine her friends in danger. Yuta was put there just a week ago.

Who was to say it wouldn’t happen with the others. This time because of cunning human rather than simple-minded cursed spirits.

If she had the ability to put some distance between her friends and any kind of danger, even if that distance was no thicker than a strand of hair, it would have been good enough for Yane.

She still woke up in cold sweat, feeling the phantom weight of concrete rubbles on top of her.

 But given the chance to go back, Yane would still make the same choice.

She studied Maki and the boys. All their eyes were on her: Yuta with guilt in his, Panda with concern, Maki with anger and Inumaki with something she couldn’t read.

Yane inhaled and told herself that with this one breath she would settle any doubt within her, pulled them all together then cut them from her mind.

She breathed out, “I can’t promise about the vow. I don’t have forever with you guys. If I’m lucky, maybe a lifetime. If not, maybe until the next mission. I don’t want to depend on luck.”

Satoru knocked his finger on the kotatsu.

“And there we have it. Yane-chan made her choice.”

He grinned at them, making his way to the ninth rice cracker of the afternoon.

“Next order of business. What’s for dinner?”

Satoru left almost right away after dinner, stuffed with paella. Yane’s paella. It wasn’t any paella either, but one that Inumaki made. She had asked specifically for it and so the group complied, pulling all ingredients they could find from their individual fridges and thus, Tokyo Jujutsu High Special Grade Paella was created.

Yane had asked the rest of the group if she was right to assume Satoru was somewhat well-off to which they all confirmed. None of them, however, could explain the exact reason why someone with that much money would resort to crashing his students’ dinner and ate half of it after stuffing himself with their rice crackers before the meal.

She had suggested perhaps he simply enjoyed their company which had been treated as a good joke, much to her annoyance.

Satoru had been nothing but nice. Not everyone was willing to get her candy or new phone or new clothes. He might have also sent her on dangerous mission too, but everyone went on dangerous missions all the time.

So, nothing to it.

Yane had chosen to rinse dishes after Yuta had soaped them to request in a hushed tone for his confidant.

In all the books Yane had consulted about her recent over-perceptiveness of Inumaki there was little to no satisfactory answer. Or just one about which she hadn’t quite known how to feel.

Lucky her, Yuta had agreed to a chat and so, Yane found herself tiptoeing towards his room, looking over her shoulder every few seconds like a thief.

Yuta opened the door for her on the third knock and instructed her to sit on his chair while he brought out some snacks and tea.

He placed her cup on the desk, “So, what’s bothering you, Yane-san?”

“It’s not so much bothering me. I’m just curious about something,” she answered.

“Sure. What is it?” he said and took a sip of the tea.

Now that they started talking, it sounded like a bad topic to discuss. But if not Yuta, who else could she ask? Panda didn’t seem like he had much experience with it, Maki was… well, Maki, and Inumaki was definitely out of the question.

“Your cursed spirit,” Yane started. “Rika-chan… you guys used to date, right?”

Yuta’s eye bulged as she spoke. The tea must have gone straight to his nose because he coughed, hastily put his beverage down and spoke through wheezes.

“Why–Why do you ask?”

Yane’s cheeks warmed.

“I want to ask what’s that like,” she squirmed. “Since you guys used to date, can you tell me what it’s like to …like someone? Like how you feel when you look at Rika-chan and stuff?”

“Errrrr,” he crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, then stretched on his side, seemingly unsure what he should be doing with them. “My ‘like’ might be a little different, but erm. Why are you asking me? Do you have someone you like?”

Yane could feel the blood rushing to her head. She turned the chair and stared into her glass.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking–”

“You’re asking if you have someone you like?”

“Well, I thought about asking Maki,” she blurted.

Yuta’s words made her head spun and the memory of the afternoon spar rushed back into her head.

“But you seem more experienced than Maki. Like between the two of you, you seem more likely to read shojo manga and stuff.”

“I don’t know about shojo manga, but I guess you’re right. Maki-san is probably not going to read shojo… and stuff.”

“See,” Yane insisted.

“So, who is it that you like? Or…not sure about liking,” Yuta smiled, but his smile faltered. “It’s not me, right?”

“Of course not!” she squeaked and shrunk. “I mean I like you but he’s different. I don’t know if I like him. Just… it’s been weird recently and I read about it, but I don’t know. I thought you might know something. But it’s different for you, okay?”

“Well, I don’t know if I would be of help but if you don’t mind me then…” he mused. “Is it Inumaki-kun?”

Yane flinched. She nodded and grabbed the tea, chugging it in one go. Rika was a powerful spirit. Maybe she gave Yuta’s mind-reading power.

“I see,” Yuta marvelled. “Well, that would make sense, Inumaki-kun is pretty cool, right? He’s kind too.”

“He is!” Yane turned back to Yuta, relieved to see she was not the only one to notice. “And he’s really fun to be around. The other day he read to me in the hospital, but all the words just became rice ball fillings. Did you know that he can make a really mean toast with ham and cheese? And he can be really fast if he runs at full power!”

Yuta chuckled; he had such a gentle shine on his smile that Yane found herself surprised out of her rambling.

She shifted in the chair, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Yuta shook his head. The smile didn’t fade from his lips.

He had this look in his eyes like he knew something Yane didn’t, and she wasn’t sure she liked that.

“How about we do this?” he spoke. “It’s going to be Gojo-sensei’s birthday soon–”

“Oh yeah!” Yane pulled out her phone. “I got a notification yesterday. You got one too?”

Yuta nodded, “–why don’t you ask Inumaki-kun to help us pick a present for him? You two can go pick out a present on behalf of all of us. You can try hanging out with him and then decide if you like him?”

“No, I mean… How is that going to help?” she whined. “How do you decide if you like someone? I mean how do you know you like Rika-chan?”

Yuta leaned to the side; his face scrunched as he hummed, “I guess you’d just know?”

“That’s not helping!”

He laughed, “Well, I mean… you can see if you want to hold his hand or hug him?”

“When he’s helping me choose a gift? Wouldn’t that just be getting in the way?” Yane cocked her head.

Yuta waved his hands, “Not necessary when he help with gift-picking. Like when you’re just walking or being around each other.”

“Wouldn’t it be difficult for him to walk if I hug him? And we usually train or cook around each other. I don’t think it’s good to bother him like that. Liking someone sounds a lot like I’m becoming a nuisance to them.”

“But if they don’t see it that way,” Yuta said. “Or better yet, if Inumaki-kun wants to hug you or hold your hand even when you are walking or cooking, and you don’t feel like he’s a nuisance. Then that means you like him.”

“Oh,” Yane mumbled.

Something clicked inside of her.

What Yuta said made sense.

All those books also said that once you like someone you would enjoy their presence. So far it was confusing because that would mean she like all her friends which wasn’t untrue, but if Yuta, or Panda, or Maki hugged her, she wouldn’t mind it, but she probably wouldn’t naturally expect it either.

Inumaki, on the other hand…

Her cheeks flushed.

“There,” Yuta grinned proudly. “Let’s ask Inumaki-kun for help. Tomorrow sounds like a good idea. It’s Sunday after all!”

Yuta thought he had done a pretty good job last night.

He wasn’t used to giving out advice or being seek out for advice, but considering his first attempt to consult someone, especially on topics like dating, he thought it was a decent handling of the matter.

Given his relationship with Rika, love was something he had avoided thinking about, yet when Yane, with her beet red face she tried so hard to hide, came asking, Yuta hadn’t hesitated.

Knowing the target of her affection was a welcomed bonus.

She might be different. He had reminded himself. Sorcerers had a lower chance of creating cursed spirits.

Yuta had been all smile since morning, proud of himself as he saw Yane and Inumaki off on their gift-hunting adventure.

The former had worn a cute yellow jacket over black turtleneck and white jeans, very date-like, which Yuta very much approved if not for the black uniform cap and her bow case. The latter, despite confusion evident over the purpose of their outing, had quietly followed without complaint.

It had been a peaceful and warm-hearted scene until the doors closed, he turned around and stood face-to-face with Panda and Maki.

“A word?” Maki had said.

Yuta could practically feel her curse energy seeping out as she spoke and he found himself kneeling by the kotatsu not long after with Maki sitting opposite to him and Panda on his right, looming over Yuta as if he was a sinner in a trial.

He hadn’t noticed how loud the electricity was in their common space. He gulped, feeling guilty despite his factual innocence.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Panda slammed on the table, startling Yuta. “Come clean about what you did to Yane-chan last night and we’ll grant you mercy in death.”

“I did nothing!”

“Liar!” announced Panda, he was fully immersed in some made-up character. “I saw you opening the door for her to your room. What else could that mean? What have you been doing to her?”

“There was that last time too with the text,” Maki added. The statement sounded more like a threat.

Yuta protested, “I’m telling you, she texted that on her own accord. I don’t know why she asked about impregnation and all that.”

He blushed at the word. His blood had run cold when he saw her message in the group chat. Not only he had no idea where she even learned that kind of word, he would politely decline the piece of knowledge.

Not to mention, that clearly had nothing to do with their current conversation.

“I just give her some advice,” he reasoned.

“About pregnancy?” Maki followed immediately to which Yuta yelped in horror, a little too loud for his liking.

“Of course not! Listen, I don’t really know if it’s a good idea to talk about this when Yane-san isn’t around.”

Panda hit the kotatsu surface, this time mimicking a gangster, “It’s because she isn’t here that we’re asking you.”

‘Asking’ was a very sugar-coated way to describe this interrogation, Yuta thought.

He racked his brain, searching for an escape from the corner he was pushed to without disclosing Yane’s story. In the end, he relented.

If Yane and Inumaki started dating or if Inumaki turned her down, these two would most definitely realise it anyway.

Although Yuta shuddered to think about the latter possibility.

If Maki and Panda were going to find out anyway, it wouldn’t be so terrible to give them a brief heads-up and then apologise to Yane later.

Beg for forgiveness on his knees if that was necessary.

Between Yane and these two, his survival rate was for sure higher when the former was mad.

“All right,” Yuta sighed. “But you have to promise me not to tease her about it, okay?”

Maki and Panda nodded.

“Actually,” Yuta began. “She came asking me for relationship advice. Romantic relationship advice.”

Chapter Text

“What about this?” Yane held up a tie, but Inumaki considered and then shook his head.

He was right, of course.

Satoru didn’t seem like the type to wear a tie. In fact, Yane had never once seen their teacher dressed in anything remotely formal. The only thing he seemed to be walking around in was the eerily similar outfit to their uniform. He might have once been a student at the school once, but he didn’t seem all that swept up in alumni spirit to continue donning the school uniform.

She and Inumaki had also tried a stationary store, only to reach the conclusion that there would most likely nothing Satoru could use from it. Unless he wanted to make a curse tool out of a sign pen, which he might just do for sheer amusement, but Yane had vehemently disliked the thought of that.

They had tried an accessories store after the stationary shop but choosing accessory for a near thirty-year-old adult proved to be a highly challenging task. Most of the sorcerer she knew didn’t wear any accessories. All besides Yuta, but his was more a memento than a fashion statement.

Not to mention the unnecessary nature of ‘statement’ considering his reputation.

“It’s hopeless,” she grumbled when they threw in the towel and tried a more casual clothing shop. “I can’t stop thinking about how anything we choose might just become a curse tool or some sort of weapon in his hand.”

“Salmon,” Inumaki nodded and crouched next to her.

He tested the fabric of a few jogging pants and pursed his lips in deep thoughts.

Yane scanned the store.

There were groups of other shoppers: family, friends, a pair of customers that seemed like a couple. The Sunday’s shopping mall had been crowed. Although Yane had been in crowed places, but being in the shopping mall was different.

It was only after nearly losing Inumaki in the sea of people that she had calmed down her frolicking to internal squeals and restraint urges to stray towards anything that shone.

It had been embarrassing, but the shopping mall had a massive Christmas tree on display, so it had arguably not been her fault at all but rather that of the mall when she lost all reasonings and dignity around the tree.

Inumaki had been accommodating, giving her not one complaint over the several times he had to seek her out from the clutches of festive decorations.

Now they banked their hope on the clothing store, which was looking increasingly unreliable.

Yane rose from her crouch, catching sight of a white short-sleeve shirt.

They were supposed to choose something for Satoru but as soon as she saw the shirt, Yane knew it would leave her mind unless she did something about it. She glided over to the rack, picking out a size that seemed sensible and rushed back over to Inumaki.

Putting it in front of his current shirt, she asked, “Doesn’t this look kind of nice one you?”

Inumaki took the shirt and studied himself with it in the mirror.

The design was nothing fancy, just a printed “ONIGIRIBBIT” in roman letters on the left pocket in deep green and a cute hand-drawn frog on the back.

He took some time to look at the shirt and nodded with crescent eyes.

His smile opened a floodgate, clearing away any thought she had about picking a gift for Satoru.

Yane indulged herself and started browsing, finding a muted pastel green cardigan that she was sure would look good on Inumaki as well.

He had a lot of short-sleeve shirts so given the season; a cardigan might be good. Yane certainly would make full use if she had a cardigan. It was slightly hot sometimes to wear hoodies and she hated feeling her sweat on the inner side.

Inumaki drew her attention and she returned to seeing him holding a pair of deep green and black patched overalls.

“Oh, that’s nice too,” she said. “Are you getting them?”

“Fish flakes,” he replied and held the hanger towards her.

Yane took the clothes and after some financial considerations, turned to Inumaki, “Do you mind if I try it on?”

With his encouraging nod, Yane rushed to the changing room.

Her heart was beating so fast she feared he might have heard it. Whatever excitement she had felt about the Christmas tree could not even begin to compare to what she was feeling when she put on the pair of overalls.

Yane pulled the curtain open, showing Inumaki the clothes on her.

“How is it?” She waited, grinning when he held up his thumbs. “Okay! I’m gonna get this one!”

After her purchase, which she realised a little too late was not the purpose of them being in the store at all, they decided it was time to try somewhere else for their teacher’s gift. Yane, with one extra special piece of clothing, Inumaki, with nothing but what was seemingly better mood.

“Come to think of it,” Yane said as they walked further away from the store. “When is your birthday, Inumaki-kun?”

He held up his hands and she guessed, “October… twenty-three?”

Inumaki nodded, confirming her horror.

It was mid-November. Even given all the things that had happened as of late, they didn’t even celebrate his birthday. But that couldn’t be possible. The group made it a point to celebrate hers.

Her friends couldn’t have just glossed over his birthday and celebrated without her.

Something twisted in Yane’s chest when the image of them blowing candles on the cake without her crossed her mind.

Yane stopped walking as she thought about what had happened exactly on the 23^rd of October. She opened the calendar in her phone, her hands shaking at the very present appointment she had with Satoru on the 23^rd.

As if not asking for his birthday when he was the one who chose her present was bad enough, she basically shoved a bouquet at him and then ran away All those problems. She had caused all those problems on his birthday no less.

“Mustard leaf?”

Yane shoved the phone back into her pocket and clasped her hand together.

“Sorry, Inumaki-kun. Can you wait here for a little bit? I’ll be right back.”

“Salmon,” he said gently.

Yane sprinted back immediately. Lucky for her they had only left the shop, so it wasn’t difficult for her to return, grab the cardigan and the ONIGIRIBBIT t-shirt before rushing to the register.

“Can I get these?” She practically slammed the clothes onto the counter. “Gift wrapping, please!”

The shop keeper was an absolute angel, working through the gift with the same urgency as Yane had shown. She even picked a nice, sturdy paper bag for Yane to carry the gift to which she took with gratitude.

Yane ran back after paying, slipping between the people coming in the opposite direction.

Their voices blended into each other, discussing what to buy next for seasonal gifts, where the food was good and when friends were supposed to meet. She had thought she was good at avoiding the patrons, giving them ample walking space, but soon enough her arrogance proved damaging.

Yane’s arm slammed into someone, and she fell backward, landing on her behind.

She looked up, a tall and large man of about Satoru’s age winced, massaging his arm.

“Fuck,” he said. “That hurt.”

“I’m so sorry,” she squeaked, getting back on her feet. She checked the gift bag and the present. To her relief, they were safe and sound.

“Hey,” the man stepped closer, his shadow loomed over Yane. “That hurt.”

“I’m so sorry,” Yane repeated. “I was in a hurry, and I wasn’t looking.”

“And yet you chose to check your shopping bag and not the person you bumped into,” he reached forward. “Don’t you think that’s a bit rude?”

She could feel the anger on him when she closed her eyes, surprised by his invasion of personal space.

It felt dark and slimy like what she felt from curse spirits. It wasn’t as though the shopping mall lacked an influx of rouge cursed energy. She just had to go and create more.

I can’t let it spread, she told herself.

“It’s a very important gift,” Yane explained, startled by the increase in the negative emotion instead.

The next thing she saw was Inumaki standing behind the man, tapping on the man’s back with his finger and asking after her with his eyes.

Yane sent him an apologetic look and turned to the man.

“I wasn’t looking–”

“Don’t you think you should?” the man grunted.

Inumaki frowned. He tapped on the man again and shook his head when the man looked back at him.

The hair on Yane’s neck raised. For a split second, the man’s eyes changed when he turned. She could understand his irritation. It must have been an unpleasant experience to have been hurt on one’s shopping trip. Yane would have felt the same too if she or Inumaki was bumped into when they were walking.

That was exactly why she couldn’t accept the way the man’s gaze changed when he looked at Inumaki. Because no matter what, for someone to look at her friend like they wanted to hurt them, then that someone should have been prepared for equal retaliation from her.

Inumaki hadn’t hurt this man, so he had no right to show that sort of attitude towards Inumaki.

“Sir,” she took the man’s hand and tightened her grip. The pressure must have drew his attention.

He looked back at her, fighting back the pressure.

“The fuck–”

“I apologise for bumping into you. Sincerely.”

Yane looked down between his legs and recited a like Maki had taught her not too long ago when they watched this one Sunday night drama together and a few delinquents were bothering a high school girl.

“But do those grow back if I rip one out because I will if you make it necessary.”

She put more force into her fingers on his skin, digging as deep as she could into his palm as she stared into his eyes. They don’t like it when you stare, Maki had said.

Yane repeated, pointing with her free hand where she had previously suggested with her eyes.

“I’m asking you if they grow back.”

“You crazy–”

He ripped his hand out of her grip and pushed her away as he left, not finishing his sentence.

Inumaki was next to her as soon as the man was out of sight. He did a quick scan of her and frowned.

“Mustard leaf?”

Yane nodded, giving him another apologetic smile.

Inumaki pointed to the bag and held his hand over his eyes.

“Gojo-sensei?” she tilted her head before realising what he meant. “Oh no! This is for you!”

Yane held the bag to him, “Happy one-month-and-two-day-late birthday, Inumaki-kun. I’m so sorry we didn’t get to celebrate it.”

“Fish flakes fish flakes,” he said, waving his hands at the bag.

“No, I want you to have them!” she pushed. “They suit you! If you feel bad about it, you can choose my next birthday gift for me!”

Inumaki froze and so did Yane. Her eyes went wide as she registered what she had said and she looked away, fighting the urge to slap herself in the mouth.

How could she just insist the clothes looked good on him?

Taste was a personal choice. Inumaki might have only looked at them positively because she was his friend and not because he had genuinely liked them.

Besides, pushing something she bought out of guilt on him might be even ruder than forgetting his birthday in the first place.

“You don’t have to like them,” she said. “I’d just be happy if you accept it.”

Inumaki chuckled, “Tuna mayo.”

He slipped his hand under the bag’s handle and took it from Yane.

She fell into steps next to him as they walked.

They continued through a few more clothing shops in search of Satoru’s gift to no avail.

As they headed to the next store, Yane heard her stomach grumbled. It must have been loud enough because Inumaki turned to her when it happened.

Pointing to the closest restaurant she could see, Yane said with a smile that couldn’t have been big enough to mask her embarrassment.

“What do you think about lunch?”

As expected of a packed Sunday shopping mall, their destination for lunch was also a packed Sunday restaurant.

After a fifteen-minute wait and a round of vigorous debate on which upcoming horror movie was worth a watch, they followed a staff’s instruction and sat in a table for two in the middle of the restaurant.

The restaurant, as advertised, specialised in omelette rice and not just any omelette rice Yane had seen on the TV either.

There were so many choices for flavour that it took her a good while until she decided on what to pick. Yane was slightly glad to see the selection was taking quite a bit of time for Inumaki too. Better that he wouldn’t have to wait for her again.

“What are you having?” she tapped the table.

Inumaki lowered his menu and pointed to the creamy mushroom and chicken.

Yane skipped the bell and raised her hand at a waiter passing by, “One creamy mushroom and chicken, and one traditional style with soy sauce, please. Anything you’d like to drink, Inumaki-kun?”

He shook his head.

“Just a pitcher of water too, please.”

“Right away,” said their waiter as he put their menus back into the wooden holder.

‘Right away’ turned out to be less time than it took to make a cup of instant noodle.

There was barely wait time after their order. The two plates of omelette rice arrived at their table along with the water pitcher before Yane could start another conversation.

She and Inumaki practically flinched when the waiter returned all smile as though he hadn’t key in their order and magically conjured the food himself.

Yane cleared her throat after a quick thank and poured two cups of water before she marvelled at the size of the portion.

“It’s huge!” she held out her hand over her food.

The length of the omelette was even more than the distance between her thumb and her pinkie.

To Yane’s surprised, Inumaki hovered his hand over the omelette too right next to hers.

An impulsive thought surfaced to mind. An image of her hand in his, which Yane quickly dispelled.

“Salmon,” Inumaki said and gave her a spoon before taking his scarf off and started with his food.

Yane followed, saying her gratitude and took the first bite.

The savoury and slightly sweet hint of soy sauce tickled her taste buds. She took another bite, feeling hungrier than the last once the warmth of the food settled in her stomach.

“It’s good,” she mumbled, then heard whispers from the table to their left.

“Did you see his tattoo?” One girl said.

“Yeah,” the other replied, motioning her company to stop talking when Yane looked over at their table.

If Inumaki had heard them, he didn’t show that he had minded.

Regardless, Yane took one of the menus and held it like a partition as she ate, blocking the view of the girls from their table. Lucky for her, the menu was long enough to cover Inumaki’s face fully.

He gave her a look and smiled. The way his eyes bore into hers caught Yane off guard.

She returned to her meal, taking a sip of water to cool a sudden heat in her stomach.

That was when she heard the discussions continued from their table neighbours.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, wasn’t that kinda cool? His boyfriend was protecting him.”

Water went straight to Yane’s nose. She spluttered, blocking her nose and mouth with her arm so she didn’t accidently spit into Inumaki’s food or hers.

“Fish flakes!” Inumaki handed her the tissues with haste. “Mustard leaf?”

Yane furiously nodded, hacking the rest of the water out into the tissues.

Her face must have been a mess.

She kept her head down and went through the food, as fast as possible.

Did those two girls really think they were together? And if they did… Why hadn’t she wanted to correct them?

Why was it that she had kept quiet and pretended as though she couldn’t hear her own heart beating crazy fast in her chest?

Yane scolded herself as she finished the meal. She and Inumaki were here to get Satoru a gift. There was no need to overthink anything. Then again, Yuta did say gift-picking wasn’t the only purpose of the trip.

So, what was so bad about feeling this way?

Inumaki ended up paying for their meal despite Yane’s fervent protest. He gestured to the birthday gift whenever she declined, and she gave up after his third insistence. They still needed to get Satoru a gift and at this rate, rather than bickering about who should pay the bill, their time would be more well spent finding the currently non-existence gift.

The natural light within the shopping mall slowly changed to its artificial replacement.

Yane and Inumaki accomplished their task at last after a thorough expedition through the mall, giving a few quick stops along the way.

It was no fault of theirs in any way if the ice cream had looked exquisite or the crepes maker had offered them discounts. Plus, it was only fair they rewarded themselves for the utmost effort they had spent into choosing a fitting gift.

Yane sat on the bench, looking into the darkened horizon for the glowing number of their bus for every one that was approaching. Inumaki had veered off to buy himself something to drink, a wise decision considered the total amount of exercise they did walking around the mall.

Just as she glanced down at a neat gift box in her shopping bag, her phone rang.

“Yuta-kun?” she asked when the line connected.

“Yane-san, where are you right now?”

She checked the time again.

“We’re just waiting for the bus right now. Should be another five minutes. We got blindfolds for Gojo-sensei by the way. One black on and one creative one. I’ll show you when we get home.”

“Ah, okay,” said Yuta. “Do you want dinner?”

She laughed, “No, that’s fine. We’re already kind of stuffed from desserts.”

“Sounds like a good date,” Yuta’s voice softened.

The way he said “date” sent a rush of heat to her cheek.

“Did you have your answer?”

Yane nodded.

Her answer came to her as he offered to hold their shopping bags.

Inumaki had been so calm today that while it made her embarrassed about her own excitement, Yane had wonder if there was anything that would make him as excited as she was today. to see him get so lost in joy, he wouldn’t mind showing it despite all the people around them.

That was when it sunk in for her.

She didn’t know much about him, but she would love to have another day at the mall with him, not because their teacher’s birthday was coming but because they wanted to visit the mall.

They could go to a movie that he wanted to watch, then one she wanted to watch.

Or to explore a different restaurant and decide which was the best restaurant in the mall.

Or to enjoy seasonal decorations.

Slowly, one day after another, Yane would be perfectly happy to learn something new about him, and about herself.

Like how delicious the omelette rice had been when he had been sitting opposite to her.

Like how buying new clothes and how special a pair of overalls was once it was pick out by someone important.

Yane thought about how happy she was that she had consulted in Yuta. It was the right thing to do.

She held the phone carefully, then spoke as though each word coming out of her mouth would hurt her, “You were right. I’m pretty sure it’s love.”

Toge wasn’t the type to eavesdrop on people. Scratch that, he was, but not unless he meant to do so.

It wasn’t the best thing to do, and he grew out of it with age, but he couldn’t help the nagging curiosity about who Yane was talking to that made her blush so visibly.

When she had asked him for help choosing a gift for Satoru, his first thought had been a concise “Why?”. There was no reason to decline, nor he had any plan to do so. Although he would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in her choice of companion. Especially when Yuta was right by her side when Yane asked.

Then, Toge recalled Satoru’s latest intrusion of the group’s peaceful dinner before the teacher so naturally dined and dashed on them.

Yane might have wanted a change of scenery after all that, experience something not cursed-related, find a reason to get her head out of what seemingly was a bad hand dealt. Something joyful.

So, Toge concluded, a celebration. A birthday–the last time she cried happy tears. And the idea of an outing started making sense.

Accompanying her became a natural obligation. Not as part of some rigid ideal of course. Those ideals seem like a cheap perversion to what him and the others wanted for Yane.

He thought, no matter how small, it was part of his duty as her friend to give her the support she needed. It was the fair and logical treatment Yane deserved once she made it clear how she felt about their group, and how far she was willing to go for them and with them.

This wasn’t out guilt or indebtedness, but affection.

Yane’s joy was contagious. The resilient innocence which she showed with everything she saw, taste and touched despite what had transpired the previous day brought a smile to his lips.

Maybe it was relief. Maybe Toge, lured by her excitement, was truly enjoying their private outings himself.

All he knew, he would never forget the little skip of his heart when she had held the menu like some sort of protective shield and the subsequence near-futile effort to hold back his laughter when Yane had choked on water over the silly comments from the next table.

It hadn’t been anything he hadn’t heard, and the main reason why Toge preferred cooking at home or getting take-aways as opposed to eating outside.

He was surprised to see her reacted to it. Even more so when realisation hit that he had let his guard down long enough to stopped caring about the way people spoke of his marks outside.

They usually weren’t malicious about it. They were simply nosy (be it verbally or silently). Nonetheless, at one point, it made Toge uncomfortable. He wasn’t a part of their world, that much was clear, but when Yane held the menu between him and those girl without so much batting an eye, it was as though she had said he needn’t be a part of that world or feel bad about it.

Just like how she must have appeared an outsider to even the sorcerers who didn’t know her and might mistreat her because of the family name she carried, Yane stuck with him and the others stubbornly. It was as though she was declaring that she had no interest in anything else but them.

Toge took pride in that. In the same way he took pride in her when she hadn’t suggested they abandon their meal and leave.

They had paid to be there. Simple as that. The ruthlessly uncomplicated solution Yane had proposed was anything but compromission. Sorcerer and non-sorcerer didn’t need to understand one another. Judgment or not, just co-exist and refrain from harm.

It was almost disheartening for him to see her not extending the same treatment for herself.

Toge couldn’t help but think of the way her eyes changed and he had felt a chill running down his back as she threatened someone a head and a half taller than her. Yane had been ready to cross her line towards violence when this person had shown hostility towards him.

Yet, she virtually did nothing when that man had treated her aggressively.

Toge would have to have a word with Maki over Yane’s choice of warning despite its effectiveness in conflict resolution. Whether that discussion would constitute vehemently positive feedback, or a complaint, however, remained unclear.

Against all odds, mission Finding-a-gift-for-the-man-who-probably-needed-none was a success.

Their bus would arrive soon then, one ride after, he and Yane would return to their hectic daily lives, hidden from other people, unsure of what misfortune the future might bring.

Even the two warm cocoa cans in his hand couldn’t dispel the uncertainty from Toge.

It would have been nice if he had another chance to enjoy a simple day like this again with everyone else. Although, he wouldn’t have minded just a day with only Yane either. Maybe around New Year time. She would probably lose it at the sight of those traditional decorations.

Toge grinned, energised by the thought.

He was a few steps away from the bus stop when he saw her laughing, cheeks pink.

Toge felt his heart dropped.

It wasn’t cold enough for one’s face to redden in that way. The gentle gaze in her expression though covered by her uniform cap couldn’t be hidden by her smile.

“I’m pretty sure it’s love,” Yane said.

The words hit him like a bucket of ice.

Toge stopped in his track, the two cocoa cans burning his palms.

Who was it?

He fumbled the restraint over his thoughts, and they escaped his control.

“Okay, bye,” cheered Yane, seemingly revived from looking like her feet were sore from spending most of the day walking. “See you later.”

Who was it?

Toge felt something coiled in his stomach. He made himself known by handing her one cocoa can and watched her eyes lit up the same way it had lit up at the sight of the Christmas tree at the clothes they had picked out for one another.

“Thank you!” she pressed the can to her face, looking up at him.

Her cheek bunched up, round like a dumpling and pink from the contact with the can. She made a content smile when the warmth transferred from her face to her body.

All hell broke loose inside his head then.

Toge hid his blush behind the scarf, stretching the fabric to cover all the way over his cheeks.

Sure, Yane was a menace on the first day they met and Toge wouldn’t lie and said he hadn’t been slightly surprised to find out she was… well, a “she” from Gojo. But then, she became something of a mixture between rough-around-the-edges, criminally naïve, and endearingly curious that existed alongside their group of friends.

Now, as she grew into herself and started to show more of her personality, Toge couldn’t help but realised those edges and innocence she had shown was the only way she ever knew how to express herself. The more Yane was around them, the more confident she became and that edge, that innocence reshaped itself into something subtler: a cheerful, eager, overly protective individual who could at times act before she formed a complete thought.

Yane was a person. A person who was finally learning how to love.

“Tuna mayo?” He asked, signalling at the phone call with his hand.

Who was it? Who was it that had drawn the word “love” out of her? Who was it that she had seemed to melt as she talked to them?

Yane beamed at him, speaking in a clear and casually cruel voice resembling that of an enthusiastic child on Christmas morning.

“Oh, the phone call?” her eyes twinkled. “It’s Yuta-kun.”

Chapter Text

Ever since they returned from the shopping mall, the atmosphere around the dorm had been strange. Yane had thought she must have been overthinking it at first, but as Satoru’s birthday approached, her friends’ strange behaviours had positively increased.

Yuta, it seemed, was always restless around her. Apologetic even. Maki kept pairing up with Yane during training even though she was supposed to change partners. Panda, on the other hand, kept advocating for Yane to spar with Inumaki. And the boy in question, Yane noticed, sometimes stared at her only to pretend he hadn’t when she caught him.

There had been tension in the air but whenever Yane asked them individually if something was wrong, they all looked at her, shook their heads and sighed. If she asked them as a group, they then looked at each other and gave no answer. Not to mention there seemed to be a mutually understood distance between Inumaki and Yuta.

Days had passed like that and now she found herself with more theories than an end-of-the-world believer.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of weird?” she whined as she walked.

“It’s just puberty,” Satoru said next to her. “Can I open the gift? I’m already opening it though.”

Yane snorted at his antics.

Thankfully she had caught him at the school.

Satoru had been on his way to meet with Principal Yaga for some “annoying, boring crap” while she was on her way back from a mission with Maki and the boys. It hadn’t been her intention to make use of Echolocation in this manner, but when one had a sorcerer locator and a gigantic campus, it would be stupid to waste the ability. Satoru must have agreed considering how amused he had been when she found and caught up with him.

It was a cold and dry day. The air was clean and crisp, and Yane had thought as she watched the shrivelled brown leaves on the ground about how the school finally felt like home. She realised once being back at the school was more comfortable than being away from it.

She watched as Satoru examined the box on all sides like he was trying to solve a Rubik cube.

He had taken quite a bit of time before taking the gift out of her hands. Yane had thought he hadn’t heard her mentioning his birthday at first but after mumbling something, Satoru had graciously and carefully received the box.

A single, soft chuckled echoed as he stopped and took out the content.

Satoru held up the first blindfold studied it with intense interest. The outer fabric was red and shiny with a single eye sewn in the middle of the blindfold.

“Who picked this?” he asked.

Yane grinned and proudly said, “Inumaki-kun!”

Satoru smirked and examined the second one, a simple black blindfold, “And you chose this?”

She nodded, admitting to its lack of flare, “I reckon the school might have a problem with you wearing the read one around. So, you can wear that one at home. The bandages seem like a hassle–not that I’m critiquing it. If you like bandages that’s fine–”

“I like this black one,” he said, and Yane tugged on his navy uniform.

“Happy birthday, sensei. Thanks for bringing me here.”

The air around Satoru softened. His handsome but rather cold exterior melted into a gentle smile.

He tousled her hair, “Come to think of it, Megumi’s birthday is this month too.”

Yane’s interest perked at the information.

“Really?”

The cogs in her brain turned when Satoru with a nod.

Megumi would become her underclassman came spring.

Her very first underclassman.

Yane grinned at the thought.

Even though he had seemed a bit unapproachable at first, the boy had more than made up for it when they parted ways. He might just be like Satoru, difficult to read and intimidating, but deep down, just like this teacher next to Yane, Megumi might have been equally kind and gentle once people got to know him.

She daydreamt as they walked, thinking about what she should get Megumi.

Perhaps a cake, something not too sweet. She already missed celebrating Inumaki’s birthday (which she would make up for without a doubt next year), she was not going to make the same mistake twice.

It wouldn’t be everyday a sorcerer got to celebrate their birthday. Worse if they had no one around to share the joy.

Maybe Ijichi could give her a ride to Saitama, or she could beg for permission to take the train if the others were on missions.

They reached the faculty building before long and Satoru put both blindfolds back into the box. He gave her head a gentle pat and waved at her to leave.

“Tell the kids I said hi,” he said.

Yane touched the warmth of his hand on her head.

She looked up and spoke before he could enter.

“You know…Your hair is as white as snow, sensei, but you’re properly warm just like any other person. It’s kind of surreal.”

Satoru’s attention lingered on her.

He made an enigmatic smile and asked, “Do you hate it?”

Yane shook her head and spoke, “No. I like it. Warm snow. It’s one of a kind, isn’t it?”

Her eyes caught sight of Principal Yaga and she bowed, shooting Satoru a quick smile before jogging back to the others.

Satoru didn’t seem like he hated the gift, which was a big win. That gave her another year to think of something better to give him. If she started saving her stipends from the missions, then there would be more options available for gifts.

Yane scanned her surroundings. Something churned in her stomach.

“Am I lost?” she pulled out her phone and held down on number two, waiting for the line to ring before speaking. “Ah, Maki? I think I’m a bit lost.”

“What? How? Where are you?”

Yane shrugged, “I’m near the faculty building–”

“With the big tree?”

“–yep, with the big tree,” Yane answered, then remembered. “Oh wait, I can just use Echolocation. Never mind, I’ll be right there.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at her own silliness and Maki’s frustration. For all her grumbling and pouting, in the end Maki was probably just worried. She had made Yane felt nothing less but protected ever since they found out about her past.

Yane walked with eyes closed, only checking her steps occasionally when she couldn’t remember if there were an obstacle in the way.

Dread washed over her like a sudden splash of ice water.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Hot flashes overtook her brain.

A ball of cursed energy swirling in the pit of her stomach.

Echolocation had sent back a large dark entity within school ground near her friends.

How? Why? The school was supposed to be sacred ground, with barriers and everything.

Was it the people who were after her? How did they manage to enter?

Yane threw her bow case open, taking out the weapon.

She pulled the string, formed the arrow with her energy and released.

As if she would sit still and let them waltz around like Jujutsu High was some sort of amusement park.

Her attack raced for the entity, but twisted to the side right before it met target.

Yane gritted her teeth.

This wasn’t a low-level cursed spirit. If it was a cursed spirit.

She calmed herself.

There was still time. The intruder hadn’t moved yet, if she could make over there and get a better view at them then maybe her attack would work this time. Yane only had a short amount of time like Satoru said. Best she made her way over quickly.

Bow slung over her shoulder, she sprinted for her friend, using the momentum to spring herself onto a tree sturdy enough to hold her weight.

Yane kept in the shadow, watching the situation. There was a long-hair man in what looked like a monk robe. He had his arm over Yuta’s shoulder.

The others seemed unharmed, but who knew until how long considering that they were all in their battle stances.

She drew an arrow, focusing cursed energy into it as she drew the bow again. It vibrated against her skin, itching to fly.

The stranger snapped his head around, locking eyes with her and she flinched. A rush of chill enveloped her.

There was something instinctual that told her he was dangerous. Too dangerous.

Yane gritted her teeth and pulled the string tighter. Who was this man? He didn’t even seem bothered by her presence. If anything, it felt as if he was daring her to shoot.

But he’s too close to Yuta, Yane reasoned with herself.

No. Even if he was, it shouldn’t be an excuse to not attack anyone who was a threat.

Yane honed the arrow finer, pushing it into itself until it was as thin as a needle and as hot as fire. It was as though she as pushing in concrete, forcing it to bend into shape.

Maki, Panda and Inumaki’s expression wasn’t good. They looked as if they were caught off guard. For all three of them to be so shellshocked, just what exactly was the identity of this intruder?

Her aim moved from the man’s heart to his head. The heat of the arrow nicked at her skin.

“Yane-chan, stop.”

Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when Satoru spoke.

He stood right below the branch where she crouched, his attention trained on the strange man.

Yane lowered the bow and dispelled her arrow before she swung down from the tree. If Satoru was here, things would be all right.

“Could you stop preaching your crazy beliefs to my students?” Satoru said.

Yane ran to Panda’s side; her hand clutched the handle of the cursed blade she secured to her back. They had given her more weapons once Maki cleared her for mastery of the wooden practice knife.

Other sorcerers Yane had caught glimpses of around campus soon rallied behind Satoru.

There were three more people accompanying their intruder: two girls in uniform just about their age and one male who seemed to have no sense for fashion or temperature.

“Who are they?” she whispered.

“Dunno,” said Panda. “Be careful, the monk is fast.”

“Satoru!” the long-hair monk cheered “Long time no see!”

Yane bit back her question and kept her eyes on him. This monk knew her teacher. If they were acquainted, then how come he was hostile with them?

Was he hostile with them?

Yane chided herself immediately. Of course, he had to be. Otherwise, her cursed energy level wouldn’t rise this much. But if that was the case, then why was Satoru involved with someone so dangerous.

“First of all, get away from those kids, Suguru,” Satoru said.

Principal Yaga cracked his knuckles.

Suguru the monk smirked, turning his cheeks to the adults but kept his eyes on Satoru as he spoke.

“I had heard this year’s first years were all outstanding students. Now I understand. It was all your doing.”

“A special grade cursed human,” Suguru said, eyeing Yuta.

Then he moved to Panda, “a cursed corpse mutation.”

Then to Inumaki, he said, “the descendant of cursed speech users.”

Yane’s blood froze when his pupils moved to her. Bile rose to her throat as he spat, “this uncanny valley too.”

Maki raised her naginata.

“And” Suguru’s eyes drifted to Maki, looking down at her as he spoke “the Zen’in clan’s failure.”

Yane drew her blade, heart drumming in her chest.

How dare he. How dare he talk about Maki that way.

Something blocked her from moving forward. Yane looked down, noticing Inumaki’s arm stretching in her way.

Maki’s eyes widened at the monk.

She growled, “You piece of–”

“Watch what you say” Suguru cautioned. His voice was refined, like a knife’s edge “because I don’t need monkeys like you in my world.”

Yuta flicked Suguru’s arm off.

“Sorry,” he said in the same threatening tone. “I don’t really understand what you’re talking about, Geto-san, but I can’t help anyone who insults my friends.”

“Damn right!” Yane shouted, pointing her blade at Suguru. “You watch your mouth, old man.”

If Suguru had feared her threat, he hadn’t shown. He forced a smile and continued his conversation with Yuta.

“My apologies. It wasn’t my intention to upset you.”

To her relief, Satoru stepped between them. Yuta backed away as Satoru said, “Then what exactly did you come for?”

“To declare war,” Suguru replied.

He turned to all the adults, raising his voice.

“Everyone gathered her, open your ears and listen closely!”

Yane’s breath grew ragged. Her cursed energy was depleting. Fast.

If Suguru attacked them now, she wouldn’t be of much help. Just the thought made her sick.

“On the coming December 24^th, when the sun sets,” Suguru continued. “We shall conduct the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. It will take place in the crucible of curses, Shinjuku, Tokyo and the holy land of sorcery, Kyoto.”

Suguru was crazy. Yane had no doubt about it. He was going to attack a district packed full of people on Christmas celebration. He was insane. This man was evil to his bones.

“We will unleash a thousand curses upon each place,” he said to Yane’s horror.

A thousand.

Each.

Where did he even get his hand on so many curses? As if one hadn’t been devastating enough to non-sorcerers.

Her breath quickened. This man really had meant what he said. He was dragging them to war.

Suguru proceeded, “Of course, their command would be ‘massacre’. If you wish to avoid a scene straight out of hell, come and stop it with all your might.”

He grinned, “Let us freely curse each other!”

“AHHH!”

Yane flinched, yelping at the sudden scream. She turned to the source: the girl in a beige cardigan.

“Geto-sama!” the girl whined checking her phone screen. “The store’s gonna close!”

What in the world was this girl talking about right this moment? People’s lives were on the line. Yane’s friends’ lives were on the line and all she cared about was some store.

Heat rushed to Yane’s head.

“I’m going to–”

“Fish flakes,” Inumaki took her wrist, shaking his head.

She stared back at him, heaving as the rage spread through her. She knew why he stopped her, but even so… even if it could be dangerous… it was better now than waiting until Christmas.

There were less of them. These intruders were at a disadvantage.

Suguru turned his attention to Beige Cardigan.

“It’s already that late?” he asked playfully before speaking back to Yuta’s direction. “I’m sorry, Satoru. These girls just insist on getting crepes from Takeshita Street.”

“Hurry!” Beige Cardigan waved.

“So, I’ll be taking my leave,” Suguru said, walking back to his group as he mumbled. “Good grief. I don’t see what’s so good about a place with so many monkeys.”

Yane saw Satoru stepped forward. He wasn’t the Satoru she always knew or the one she had just talked to minutes before.

There wasn’t a lick of nonchalance about him despite the praises of his strength.

Couldn’t he just take down Suguru and those hostiles right away and none of this would have happened? He was the strongest sorcerer. These intruders shouldn’t stand a chance.

The ground shook.

Her attention snapped to Inumaki’s grip on her hand. He shifted his stance, putting Yane between him and Panda as they stood back-to-back.

“Inumaki-kun?”

It wasn’t only him. All her friends were struggling against something invisible. Cursed spirits, Yane concluded, activating Echolocation.

She shuddered at the view. Pitch-black entities surrounded all of them. It was like standing in darkness itself.

“So many,” mumbling, Yane took the first stab at one nearest to her. Another replaced it right away.

“Well, everyone, see you on the battlefield.”

She heard Suguru said as a gust of wind blasted past.

Yane turned around, startled by the feeling something splashing on her face.

“Are you okay?” asked a fellow sorcerer in suit, offering her his handkerchief.

Inumaki took the cloth and wiped across Yane’s forehead, then her right cheek. His eyes moved up and down at her before he turned to Panda and Maki.

“Mustard leaf?”

“Yeah,” they said.

Maki spun her weapon as if to fling something off the blade.

Yane sheathed her cursed blade as well and exhaled. Sudden as it came, the pressure from the overwhelming onslaught of cursed energy disappeared.

Her legs gave out and she fell onto the ground, barely saving herself from the impact with Panda’s help.

“Are you okay?” he asked, picking her up and carrying her on his back.

Maki were next to her immediately.

“Her cursed energy is a bit low.”

“I’m fine,” Yane melted into the soft and cotton-like scent coming from Panda. “Those guys left so I think my body is shifting back to its normal state. Luckily, I didn’t run too low on energy while they were still here.”

“Stop thinking unnecessary things,” Maki flicked on Yane’s forehead to which Yane scrunched her face, much to her friend’s enjoyment. “We can take care of ourselves. Don’t just waste your energy like that. Be smart, remember?”

“Salmon,” Inumaki added.

Yane pressed her face into Panda, nodding. Maki was right. The first arrow was a bit rash.

Had she run out of energy when a fight broke out, it could have been horrible. She could have been a burden to them. She should have waited until the fighting began.

Panda was carrying her passed the other sorcerers when Yuta told Satoru he was returning to the dorm as well.

Yane reached out to the nice man in suit, “I’ll wash your handkerchief and return it.”

“Kento Nanami-kun,” Satoru cooed as he rushed over to Suit Man. “What’s this I see? Flirting with female minor? How scandalous!”

“Stop that,” Suit Man grumbled. He swatted Satoru’s hand away before it could land on his shoulder.

“It was impossible for me to tell their gender from first impression just so you know. No doubt something you were responsible for, so kindly refrain from making untrue and damaging comment like that, Gojo-san.”

Bowing slightly, Suit Man greeted, “Kento Nanami, pleased to meet you.”

Yane copied him as much as she could for someone being carried by a panda and slowly feeling sleepy as tension washed off her.

“Yane Hamada, first year student. Pleased to meet you.”

“You don’t have to wash the handkerchief, Hamada-san,” Nanami repeated, taking the cloth back from Inumaki. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait!” she called and searched through her trousers’ pocket, picking out a few plastic-wrapped candies to offer.

He held out his hand, taking them without complain.

“This is in exchange for lending me the handkerchief. Thank you, Nanami-sensei.”

Yane nuzzled into Panda’s fur, her grogginess took over, muffling all kinds of discussion happening around her. Nanami was saying something, but it didn’t help that his voice was just pushing her further into the inviting realm of sleep.

She shouldn’t be sleeping, but her body was no longer listening to her.

Yane fought to no avail, commanding her mind to make sure she visited Megumi before December 24^th. Thanks to Suguru Geto, that could very well be the last time she could see him.

Megumi hadn’t expected much on his birthday. Not since Tsumiki returned to him, comatose.

Birthday or not, nothing really changed in his daily lives.

He would wake up, go to school, or go shopping for groceries if there was no school, then he would head over to check on Tsumiki, then back home, then to sleep and the next day would come around.

This too was no more a day that Megumi basically waited to end until someone he hadn’t expected to see for a good while had shown up, unannounced.

Megumi had been in the faculty office, called in again when he taught two second-year idiots trying to steal a first-year’s lunch money a lesson.

One of the kids must have had some kind of connection with the principal. Not that a last name was necessary information when all he had wanted was to put them in their places. Even if he had known their last names, he wouldn’t have the made the connection either.  

Megumi really remember the principal’s last name. Or that of any other teachers not part of his studies.

The principal shouted, spit flying as he enunciated every word.

“As someone with a sick sister, you should have acted in moderation so as to not put unnecessary burden on your family!”

Megumi had almost laughed.

His knees had been cold from the floor which had been losing the last bit of residual warmth when the sun was setting.

Unnecessary burden? Family?

Tsumiki had been cursed. She was his only family left and she was on a hospital bed without any indication of recovering.

A little principal meeting would be a joke in comparison to that.

None of this would have happened in the first place had the school done something about these delinquents. There were lines in life people shouldn’t cross.

Megumi had been no more than a walking reminder for these idiots whose only purpose was to feed their own egos by inflicting pain.

Besides, he had held back this time. Violence shouldn’t beget violence. Only appropriate justice.

The door had slammed open in the middle of the principal’s speech.

“Pardon the intrusion!”

Yane had stepped in after a loud announcement, dressed in the same uniform he had met her in prior.

The principal, upon seeing her, immediately shifted target.

“Who are you to be so rude?”

His voice screeched like nails on board.

Yane’s cap tilted upwards.

She spoke in a voice lower and stern, the opposite of his memory of her rather child-like and cheerful manner in Tsumiki’s hospital room.

“I heard what you said, mister. Isn’t that a bit harsh?” she turned to the two idiots kneeling next to him. “You two, what did you do to Megumi?”

“Excuse me, young… lady?” interjected the principal.

Other teachers started gathering near him as well, trying to get a good look at the uninvited guest.

“You had better explain yourself. Who are you? What’s your relationship with Fushiguro-kun? We can’t just let outsiders enter school premise like this.”

Yane’s face darkened as she looked back at the principal. She had her hands in her pocket, Megumi feared for a split second, there would be a knife or something similar in there from the way her eyes glistened with hostility.

From where he sat, Megumi could see a curse blade strapped to her back, hidden underneath her jacket.

he gulped.

To his relief, Yane pulled out a yellow flip phone instead of a weapon and pressed number 1.

“Ah, sensei?” she spoke while staring down the principal and the other teachers. “Yep. I found Megumi-kun. There’s a bit of trouble right now though. Can I deal with it?”

Megumi could almost hear Satoru’s joking around on the other side as Yane nodded. His heart quickened.

Why had Yane come here? And stumbled upon this as well.

Embarrassment coiled in his chest.

Once the phone call ended, Yane turned to the baffled faculty, “So, now that I’ve gotten permission from Megumi’s guardian to act as emergency proxy, shall we talk about what Megumi had done so wrong that he’s kneeling on the ground like this? Please keep in mind that everything you say will be relayed. Verbatim.”

The principal paled. He didn’t look convinced about the idea of talking to someone who appear no older than a first-year middle schooler. But the constant, unblinking stare Yane was sending him must have deterred the faint-hearted old man from trying something funny.

“Fushiguro-kun had violated school rules and raised his hands at his underclassmen.”

“Unprompted?” Yane raised her eyebrow.

The principal’s puffed like he had just been choked.

Yane’s glared over to the bullies.

There was something about the way only her head turned when her body was absolutely still that sent chill down Megumi’s back.

“I’m asking you a question,” she said. “Did Megumi hit you without provocation?”

“No. No, ma’am,” one of the idiots explained. “We were trying to get some lunch money from this first-year and Fushiguro–”

“San,” Yane stressed.

“Y–Yes, Fushiguro-san found us.”

The principal opened his mouth as if to speak, but he closed it with a gasp when Yane’s attention snapped back to him.

“So, you’re telling me that this school is making Megumi kneel because he took it upon himself to stop these bullies? Did I get this right?”

Megumi bit the inside of his cheeks.

There were so many thoughts on his mind that he couldn’t decide which he cared about the most.

This wasn’t a big deal.

Just a few more months and he would graduate, putting this stupidity behind.

He made a promise to himself so he wouldn’t have sabotaged that, but when Yane stood before him and stood up for him, something swelled in his throat.

The principal crossed his arms, “Not everything could be solved with violence, miss.” 

The room flinched when a loud band resonated through the air.

Yane lifted her hand from the table, leaving a slight dent on the surface in the shape of her palm.

“Wait, Hamada-senpai,” Megumi spoke in haste, noticing a focus of cursed energy moving towards her hands which were curling into fists.

“Megumi-kun, you stay quiet,” Yane warned. She returned to the principal and the rest of the faculty. “You’re so against physical violent, but what were those words you said to Megumi? Words can hurt people too, mister. Just because you can’t see the damage doesn’t mean it wasn’t done.”

She uncurled her fists with a deep exhale and retracted her hands into her pockets.

“Gojo-san will speak to you about the potential verbal assault I’ve witness today and don’t even think about covering it up. He will be the least of your problem.”

Yane’s voice softened into a mellower tone.

“If you’re not careful, you might be cursed straight to hell. Though I sincerely hope that doesn’t happen.”

She walked over to Megumi, offered him a hand so he could stand. He hadn’t needed the support, but he took it anyway.

Yane turned to the other two kids and smiled, “You, too. Careful not to get cursed. Though I might do something much worse in comparison next time something like this happen. Wouldn’t want to find out what now, do we?”

She glanced down to their crotches with clenched right fist and Megumi panicked, pulling on her arm.

“Hamada-senpai, let’s go,” he turned to the faculty, bowing as he spoke. “My apologies for the aggression. It will not happen again.”

Before anyone could say another word, Megumi pushed Yane out the door and dragged her to the front gate.

“Ah, wait! Fushiguro-kun,” she pulled from his grip, entering the security room, and returned almost immediately, bowing down to the guard with her thanks.

Yane had a small, square bag in her hand which she handed over to him.

“Here. Let’s go. It’s late. I’ll have Ijichi-san drive you home first.”

He took the bag and looked inside; his nose stung. It was a slice of cake. Tiramisu. Not something he would choose but the chaotic mess of emotions from someone celebrating his birthday instead of Tsumiki triumphed his reservation about the cake.

Once he entered, Megumi kept his head down.

“Are you pitying me?” he said to Yane.

She didn’t look offended or surprised at his question, only wordlessly putting in a message on her phone to someone as she answered.

“I wouldn’t know. No one really explained to me what pity felt like.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” he pushed, barely able to keep his bubbling annoyance at bay.

What was this girl talking about? It sounded even more like she was messing with him. If this was Satoru’s funny idea of a birthday surprise, then he had better watch his back the next time he brought Megumi along for another mission observation.

Megumi sighed, “Why did you come here, Hamada-senpai?”

She looked up at him with confusion and he felt slightly embarrassed as if he had just asked her why one plus one equal two.

“It’s your birthday,” she said. “I’m here to give you a present. People should get a present on their birthday. Right, Ijichi-san?”

“R–Right,” Ijichi stuttered, clearly taken by surprised by the question.

Yane closed her phone and turned to him.

“I’m not sure if you plan to have one but if you have a birthday party, I would have hoped you would invite me,” she said. “Since I don’t know about it, can’t ask about it and you don’t know how to contact me. I just invited myself.”

She smiled. There was something sad and anxious in her eyes, betraying the rather upbeat tone she was using to speak.

“Everyone deserves to be celebrated for being alive.”

Her voice was soft and tired at the end, and Megumi remembered he hadn’t seen her face clearly when she was in the faculty office.

He tried studying her, finding more questions than answers. His hand caressed the box as the car travelled on and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had been a little too harsh on this girl next to him.

For all Megumi knew, she hadn’t given him a single hint that she felt pity towards him. But he couldn’t help feeling she wasn’t being entirely honest with her claims.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” Yane shook her head. Her voice was light and carefree, but she didn’t look at him when she spoke. “I just wanted to give you something nice when I can.”

Megumi frowned, “Something happened, didn’t it?”

“No,” her voice was stern this time. “Everything is just fine.”

They slowed into the street near his apartment in strained silence.

Megumi thanked them and stepped out, hesitant to close the door. Yane’s words stirred up something murky within him. He thought back to Tsumiki.

“Senpai, if you need help in anyway–”

“It’s fine, Fushiguro-kun. I hope you have a good birthday. Or just a good cake.”

“Megumi,” he said. “You can just call me Megumi since you already calling me that in front of the faculty anyway. I look forward to seeing you in spring.”

Her face brightened slightly.

Yane nodded, but her eyes confirmed Megumi’s doubt. They seemed haunted somehow. Like keepers of deep and devastating secrets.

“Like wise,” she waved. “Be careful on your way in, Megumi-kun.”

Chapter Text

The car moved again when they saw Megumi disappear behind the door of his small apartment.

Yane started to shake. The nerves she had kept at bay with rushed conversation and forced smile frazzled and came undone.  She held her phone like a talisman, hoping her tight grip on it would calm her down.

But as the pressure increased on the electronics, Yane’s composure crushed like glass.

The plan was to give him the sweet, wish him a happy birthday, then maybe tell him a funny story about what Satoru did the other day. It had veered off track when Megumi hadn’t shown up at the school gate even though his fellow students had been out of the building and gone an hour before. 

Yane had gone in to search for Megumi, only to learn that he had been called up to the faculty office for discipline. She hadn’t needed to think twice before rushing towards his direction.

The morning shower after Geto Geto’s intrusion which Yane thought would clear away the residual of sleep had brought Geto’s threat back, fresh as new in her mind. Along with it, something else formed.

It was supposed to be a swift exchange with Megumi, but Geto’s words had stayed on repeat. A reminder of impending danger on Yane, on her friends and, if he won, on any sorcerers around. That included Megumi.

Her stomach twisted when Yane recalled Megumi’s face when he said to meet her in spring. She couldn’t help but wonder how she had appeared to him in that moment. Had she looked at the end of her wits? Had she skilfully hidden this churning lump of emotions in her chest?

Or had he seen it all and sensed something? And that was why he said those words?

The car slowed and stopped before a red light. The lamp hue casted a nasty red onto the interior of the car.

Ijichi spoke, eyes forward as he watched the traffic signal.

“Are you okay, Hamada-san?”

“No,” Yane broke. 

She held herself and leaned forward as though to fold her body into itself. The firmness of her bone pressing on her stomach helped, but not by much. Her heart was beating so fast she should be sweating buckets but the tips of her fingers were cold, like ice.

“What do I do?” she said. “I’m scared, Ijichi-san.”

Yane couldn’t share with Megumi anything in the end. 

He wasn’t a Jujutsu High student yet. 

He shouldn’t be involved in this mess when he still had so much to deal with just in his life. 

It might have been selfish on her part. No, it was, without a doubt, a self-centred desire but Yane wished she could have let him know, tell him how sorry she was for being unable to confidently promise him about spring.

It didn’t feel fair. Megumi was going to be her first underclassman. She was going to spoil him rotten and be such a cool senior that he couldn’t help but brag to other people.

But that “Likewise” had already felt like a lie. 

What Yane wanted to say drowned in silence. The words stuck in her chest, piercing her conscience with the shards of her sanity. 

After Geto’s declaration, Yane had taken to training. 

It was only natural.

With everything on the line, it was crazy to do anything less than. 

She had worked herself to the bone: day, and night. 

Training, mission, training, then mission again. 

She told herself she was doing what she could, and the rest lay with luck, but her legs slowly became heavier, her aim once again wavered. She trained and trained and yet she was virtually the same now compared to when Geto was in front of her.

To depend on luck, such a thought was laughable. Luck was already decided.

No one changed after a few more rounds of running or a few more missions. Not if they couldn’t recognise and fight cursed spirits faster. Not if they had no idea what technique they possessed. Not if they had only a few minutes to be useful. 

“Suguru Geto is a strong sorcerer, isn’t he?” Yane’s voice trembled. “He was Gojo-sensei’s level strong.”

She squinted her eyes shut. 

The phantom pain on her body re-emerged. 

She thought she didn’t want her friends to get hurt and so she had to train. But she had trained. She trained, and yet, in front of Geto, what kind of protection could she provide them, exactly? 

Some distraction so they could run, perhaps. 

For Geto, as Satoru said, it would be a mere moment. It wouldn’t be enough.

The car engine hummed in a muted tone. 

Ijichi lifted the turn signal lever and the direction arrow blinked in green, making a ticking sound like the second hand inside a clock. 

They were a good while into the evening now and driving passed Arakawa River. Yane couldn’t help but become captivated with the open night sky. It wasn’t completely dark indigo like she was used to but rather a lighter shade tinted with purple.

Her heart ached at the unexpected beauty.

Even if her friend managed to run, they probably wouldn’t. Because Yane couldn’t. She wasn’t as fast as Inumaki or as strong as Maki.

Then what?

Then Megumi would enrol, and he would find out in the worst-case scenario that Yane was no longer around. To put that situation on Megumi when he was already burdened with Tsumiki would be the cruellest act she could have committed.

But that would also be the natural order of things because no matter how much she struggled, if Yane couldn’t suddenly become someone like Yuta, her fate was sealed.

“It’s not wrong to be afraid,” Ijichi spoke like he was soothing a crying child. “A long time ago, Gojo-san told me to quit being a sorcerer. He was nasty about it too, mind you, and it broke my heart but I’m here now. Even though he still stresses me out most of the time.”

Yane waited for him to continue but he didn’t for a while and she had to sit up, glancing over the driver seat.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand.”

“Oh,” Ijichi gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m not very good at cheering people up. Sorry. I meant to say that after being told to quit, I stayed back as an assistant. There wasn’t much I could do, but like this, I am alive and able to support stronger sorcerers to do their job.”

He stopped at a red light and continued as they waited.

“Despite all that, even when I’m not in the thick of the fight, I still feel fear. And I’m almost thirty. It wouldn’t be fair to expect students half my age to be fearless.”

“But if I feel afraid and I can’t fight then my friends will be in danger,” Yane reasoned. “I can’t be afraid.”

“You’re a sorcerer, Hamada-san,” Ijichi said. “Use that fear. Made it into your cursed energy and use it against your enemy. You just got to Jujutsu High. No one is expecting you to do everything. That’s why there are teachers and other sorcerers. That’s why you have friends.”

“And Satoru Gojo?”

He chuckled, “And Satoru Gojo.”

Ijichi’s eyes reflected the green of the traffic light, shining as though they had their own source of power.

“It’s true sometimes there’s no other way but work through your fear and fight but you could count on your teachers and upperclassmen too. For all his mean remarks and crazy antics, Gojo-san is properly strong. It’ll be all right, Hamada-san. Trust in what you learn at school. It’s taught to you not only so you could help others but also protect yourself.”

Yane stared at the Ijichi through the rear-view mirror.

The bubbling fear in her chest calmed as she was listening to him. He wasn’t a powerful sorcerer by any means, and she felt rude now how she hadn’t expected any advice from him because she hadn’t seen him as someone who would understand what she would feel.

Clearly, he would.

Ijichi had stood where she stood, and felt what she was feeling.

As someone who once aspired to be a sorcerer, someone who failed to become one but stayed back and helped in any way he could, Ijichi’s words sunk in and spread through Yane like a stable candlelight on a lonely winter night.

She wasn’t completely convinced about the aspect of everything turning out all right, but she could feel the anxiety slowly receding from her. Use her fear. That was good advice. The more she could harness and channel negative emotions into cursed energy, the better chance Yane had at holding out.

She’d have to learn, know when to keep an eye out for an opening, a miscalculation. If she couldn’t handle an enemy directly, the next best thing she could do would be to watch them until they make mistakes and take that chance. Be watchful, be careful, and never let her guard down. Should she fall, Satoru would catch her.

It would be okay, Yane told herself. She could do this. She would be ready. Because Maki didn’t train no coward and Satoru didn’t bring back a weakling.

The morning of December 24 th , Yane awoke with a strange lightness in her body. 

She had risen before the sun and had opted to watch the sky change colours from the comfort of her bed. 

It was fascinating how the stars slowly disappeared as if they were melting into the sky as it turned milky white.

When she could no longer see a twinkle in the sky, Yane got out of bed. 

She took a slow shower, made herself tea, and tiptoed to the common space quiet as a mouse. She kept her eyes on the floor so as not to fall and break the tea mug. As the weather turned piercingly cold, she could no longer afford to walk barefoot inside and because of that, there were more than one occasion where the smooth fabric of her sock resulted in downfalls that left her sore the next morning.

Once she was in the kotatsu, Yane settled into the warmth of the heated table and turned the TV on mute. 

There wasn’t much happening in such an early hour in the day, but she found her attention glued to the screen. 

They were only doing a rerun of a gourmet show on napolitana pasta from different parts of Japan. It was something her group of friends had already seen a while back as they had debated on the “ultimate special ingredient” that should be used in napolitana pasta.

Maki had insisted on sausages, while Yuta had argued his case for corn. As it turned out, he was the only one in the group whose household used corn in the dish. It had been a fascinating sight, Yuta pouting over pasta.

He seemed closer to someone her age then, not the matured image of a big brother Yane always thought him out to be.

Not the fiercely protective classmate flicking Geto’s arm for disrespecting his friends either.

Her stomach churned.

She rested her weight on the kotatsu and warmed her fingers with the mug. 

The host of the show twisted the pasta with his fork, lifting it for display as the camera zoom in capturing the mouth-watering orange shade and the faint heat dancing around the strands of noodles.

“Looks good,” Yane mumbled and wondered how many of these different napolitana pasta she would like to share with her friends, then what other foods she could try with them.

“Tuna?”

Her heart quickened at Inumaki’s voice.

Yane turned around to greet him, half expecting Maki as well, but her prediction was incorrect.

Inumki was alone.

He looked freshly awake and still plagued by the faint touches of sleep. The hood of his hoodie hung crumpled behind his back, evidence that it was crushed during his slumber. 

“Good morning, Inumaki-kun.”

“Kelp,” he nodded. 

His eyelids closed again, and he startled awake before dragging his feet to the kotatsu and burrowing himself into the thick blanket. 

“Did I wake you?”

Inumaki scratched his neck and gave her a reassuring look as though to refute. 

His attention fell immediately on the gourmet show and they watched in silence, basking in the serene grey morning. 

After a few minutes, Yane heard a different sound amongst the excited comments of the show’s guests. 

It was soft, steady, and almost imperceivable.

She held back a chuckle when she looked away from the screen and saw Inumaki, head on his crossed arms, resting against the table as he fell back to sleep. 

His hood had fallen over and was covering half of his face as he slept. 

It was strange that he was facing her way. They were both watching the show, if her memory was correct, before new details she hadn’t noticed in the first run of the show caught her attention.

Yane lifted the hood, giving him more breathing space.

The television sound drowned into a dull noise.

She smiled, unable and unwilling to look away from Inumaki.

His platinum blonde hair had grown out since the day she arrived, although not as orderly or long as hair went.

She crossed her arms on the table and rested her head, marvelling at his long, elegant lashes. They were so delicate it was hard to believe he was a boy. 

It felt a little wrong to indulge herself this way, but he was so different when he slept compared to when he woke.

A new kind of difference.

New, and endearing.

Yane was a light sleeper. The lightest sound outside could have awakened her. More so after she was discharged from the hospital. There was something scary about not knowing if there was anyone in the same space with her, not knowing what to expect when she woke up.

Even if she knew it was irrational, it was like Yane’s brain had decided it knew better and refused to let her body act in any manner besides being alerted.

But Yane remembered not feeling afraid when the first thing she saw was Inumaki. He hadn’t done anything special but there was no need for anything special. In the same way her anxiety dissipated at the mesmerising sight of his eyes, Yane would like to think that Inumaki felt safe enough to drift back to such a vulnerable state around her.

Yane’s chest warmed at the thought. Maybe she wasn’t as weak as she had thought if Inumaki trusted her enough to keep him safe while he slept.

Something heavy rested on her shoulder. Something like a hefty blanket that kept her grounded.

They only had a few hours until they had to leave. What if this moment right now was using up her luck in the coming battle?

What if it meant Yane would not be able to tell Inumaki how she felt?

What if he didn’t feel the same way?

She never asked Yuta how to properly express her feelings in this case.

“What do I do, Inumaki-kun?” 

Yane whispered and buried her face into her arms, feeling the familiar touch of exhaustion pushing her back into her own share of slumber.

“How am I supposed to tell you that I like you?”

Toge thought his heart had shot straight to his throat. 

He was barely back to sleep again when something brushed over his face and woke him.

Yane had seemed troubled as of late, so Toge took it upon himself to keep an eye on her. What kind of friend would he be if he couldn’t be there for her when she needed to talk.

She had never had a difficult time sharing her thoughts when she first arrived, but as though she feared her own mind, Yane had stopped talking about herself after learning about her background.

And Toge had noticed.

It was pretty evident she had problems with her training despite the gradual improvements. Yane threw herself into the training regimen like she was a Special Grade sorcerer or that she needed to be, and Toge thought that was silly.

Yane wasn’t going to fight alone so why had she acted like it was a one-man war for her? Why hadn’t she depended on them to keep her safe?

Toge didn’t like the trend he was seeing.

Maki had been sent on a mission with Yuta and Satoru non-stop, leaving him, Panda, and Yane alone at the dorm until now. 

Panda, for some strange reason, had made a mission out of incessantly inquiring Toge about his type during Yuta and Maki’s absence.

Toge hadn’t thought much about it, answering as truthfully as he could, but when he asked Panda for an explanation, his friend had just clammed up and told him to not pay it any mind.

A task easier said than done.

Toge had been wrestling with the idea of Yane possibly having romantic feelings for Yuta and had, on more than one occasion, suspected Yuta had turned her down, hence her low mood. 

But it couldn’t have been. 

Yane didn’t seem like the type to be in such a state over a heartbreak. Perhaps she’d have a good cry, but she would be back to her cheerful self soon enough. It was more surprising to him that she finally registered romantic feelings when a few months ago she had practically been learning how to write mid-difficulty Kanjis.  

So, it had killed Toge a little to see her small silhouette in the early morning, hair still damped, looking at a gourmet so with such longing and sad eyes. It couldn’t have been just because she was hungry.

He had no other choice but settle with the fact that Yane’s presence was becoming an undeniably big and important part in his life. She grew to be their friend though he wasn’t sure because she wanted to or because she had no other choice.

Regardless, he had joined her at the kotatsu. There was a weight in his chest that only went away when he saw the loneliness in Yane’s eyes disappear when she noticed him.

He hoped she had chosen them: him and the others, in the same way they had accepted her as one of their own. He prayed that it was truly her choice, her freedom to stay, to continue staying, and now, experiencing love regardless of the result.

Maki, Yuta, and Panda were good individuals.

They had given Toge a second home, made him feel welcomed and belonged. He could only take that and pass it on to Yane, trusting that he did enough to inspire the same for her.

Toge hadn’t calculated falling asleep not ten minutes into watching the show.

Neither had he planned on waking up to the sound of Yane’s voice saying his name and the word ‘like’ in the same sentence. 

His heart had dropped a beat when she spoke.

And he had waited with thoughts running amok in his head for her breath to slow before gingerly opening his eyes and sat up straight.

He stared at the top of her head. Her words and her soap-like fragile presence rushed to his head, commanding his hand towards her like he was under the delirium of a high fever.

It could have been wrong. 

Toge could have heard it wrong.

But what if he hadn’t

What if the profound blush on her face when she was talking to Yuta over the phone was because of him and the person who has made her smile with such warmth in her eyes had been him?

He withdrew his hand like a startled animal and placed it over his heart.

The beats were resonating through his entire body.

Toge hadn’t hated it. He hadn’t felt hesitant or repulsed when he thought about himself as the target of Yane’s affection.

Only deep and vast woe.

If they were normal–non-sorcerers–maybe he would have been able to ask her to a movie, or to a café after class. 

He wouldn’t speak in rice ball fillings, and they could have simply talked each other’s ears off about the stupidest thing.

They would have time to test out these feelings, to learn about one another slowly and leisurely.

They wouldn’t have to rush or care about anything else in the world besides how good a movie or a parfait was. Like that day at the mall.

But they were sorcerers, and therefore, they neither had the time nor the ability to live slow or free. 

There were things to consider. 

Things like his family’s possible reaction to her name or the looming prospect of a day when either of them wouldn’t be able to say “Welcome home” regardless of how many hours they had spent waiting. 

Things like how Yane would have to spend a lifetime never hearing an unfiltered word of affection coming out of his mouth.

Toge bit the inside of his cheeks.

All these obstacles and yet somehow, out of everyone she had met, Yane had fallen for him.

She had chosen him.

Maybe she hadn’t known the trouble that came with her choice. ‘Friends’ was a great label for them. There was a comfortable distance that came with it. Things changed when people entered a relationship.

Toge slumped.

Would she regret it one day if they started something? 

Would he ?

Lineage sorcerers like him didn’t date. Not unless it was a show.

There was no sure way to tell how their relationship would turn out, not when they were sorcerers. Toge hadn’t imagined himself in any relationship, just a slim understanding of a future marriage with someone his family decided. 

That was how it should be until Satoru dropped her on them. 

Yane’s pain when she found out about herself had been enough. What about the potential issue that members of his family could cause? Or the repercussions when the other families found out about them?

How was he to handle that?

It would be like giving ammunition to those who want to shoot her down when he and the others were barely able to keep watch over her. Toge had already been expecting a long discussion with his family come New Year.

Elders usually kept their mouths shut around his mother, but both he and his parents knew it wasn’t out of respect.

Toge couldn’t see a clear path forward, no matter how much he mulled over it. Everything just ended up even more muddled in his mind, but at least for now, as he watched her dark hair turn brown in the morning sun, he was certain about one thing. 

The fast beating of his heart wasn’t a lie.

The serenity he felt when it was just the two of them wasn’t false.

He was happy. He wanted to continue being happy.

“Salmon,” Toge said quietly as he, careful like he was holding snow in his palm, brushed hairs out of Yane’s face so he could get a better look. 

‘Thank you,’ Toge had meant to say because ‘I think I might like you too’ was still too frightening an admission for him to make.

When Yane woke again, it was already past noon. 

The number thirteen on her phone screen had her scrambling out of the kotatsu and back into her room to change. 

She shook off the pyjamas and habitually slipped into her uniform.

There wasn’t much time until the strategy meeting, and nowhere near enough for her to prepare herself for sunset.

Once Yane confirmed that every piece of her equipment was in place, she exited, dark cap in hand.

“Yane.”

She turned around, approaching Maki at her beckon. Her friend stood at the edge of her room’s door, dressed in her training clothes instead of her sleepwear.

Perhaps Yane wasn’t the only one jittery about the whole situation.

“Here,” Maki said, putting in Yane’s hand a brown leather sheath. 

Yane pulled out the weapon. Its handle had a good grip, and the blade was wide edged with two holes on its surface. 

It glimmered like a threat under the light.

“It’s called Slaughter Demon,” explained Maki. “Better to have an excess of weapon than not enough.”

“You’re right.” 

Yane grinned and moved her usual combat knife to the strap on her trouser. She secured Slaughter Demon to the strap on her back.

“You’d better return it, you hear?” Maki said as she fixed the helm of Yane’s jacket.

Yane felt her confidence rise with Maki’s gesture. As a grade four sorcerer, Maki was instructed to remain with Yuta at school as part of security, but more than anyone, Maki must have wanted to be at the front line, just like any other capable sorcerer.

She belonged to the front line, no doubt more than Yane would. Yet here they are, on opposite sides of what was right.

Yane knew what Maki wanted, why she had put the blade in Yane’s hand, why she had instructed the return of the blade, and why even though Yane wasn’t looking forward to the impending battle, she was still glad it was her and not Maki on the front line.

She sucked in a breath and leapt forward, putting both her arms around Maki’s body that had hardened with training.

“I’ll be back, Maki,” she whispered.

Maki returned her hug, deep and reassuring. She let go with a grin and brushed her thumb over Yane’s scar from her mission with Yuta.

 “Go give them hell.”

The meeting room was packed full of sorcerers, all of them with their respective intense appearance, announcing to the world the level of their skills with aura alone. 

And then, there was Satoru who was more sombre than what Yane was used to but composed enough that he grinned and greeted her with fervour when she had entered the room with Inumaki and Panda.

The three of them had been assigned to assisting other first grade sorcerers. Inumaki and Panda were to be on the street while Yane provided support from higher ground.

The meeting ended quickly and soon they were out, on their way to Shinjuku as aid to citizen evacuation. While the other sorcerers took the train, Yane was put on the team travelling by car with Inumaki, Panda, Satoru, and Ijichi.

“Frankly speaking,” Satoru said when Jujutsu High was behind them. “I think this time the higher-ups were also planning to see how much Yane-chan could do. That’s why they were adamant about putting her on the field.”

“Isn’t she only third grade in their eyes?” Panda said.

Satoru hummed, “She’s still from the Hama clan. They’re probably thinking ‘Use what we can’ by judging her firepower in a mission like this. If she dies, that’s one less thing they’d have to think about. If she turns out to be stronger than they want…”

His words trailed, fading into an enigmatic smile.

“Yane-chan,” he continued, his tone changed. “Watch your cursed energy. Let’s try to hide from the higher-ups a little bit more, shall we?”

In other words , Yane thought. No funny business. No crazy attack.

She gritted her teeth. Even when she might be able to do more, even when all she wanted to do was help, in those higher-ups’ eyes she would remain something terrible, something to be cautious of and to get rid of should they deem her dangerous enough.

No matter how much she tried, her name would still be her bindings.

“Be good, but not too good,” Yane mumbled in bitter dissent, surprised by how anger could make someone want to laugh. “That almost sounds like a curse, Sensei.”

She looked at Ijichi.

‘Satoru Gojo would protect you’, was it?

Chapter Text

The sun was setting soon.

Yane smiled at the last non-sorcerer of her sector she needed to guide to the designated police car.

After she passed the authority over to the closest officer, Yane returned to her post. It was a ten-story building rented out to various small companies on nine of it and reserved the first floor for a pharmacy.

She entered the pharmacy, took two bottles from the shelf, and put the payment into the register. They had cut off all security camera feeds to maintain secrecy, but it felt wrong to just take them like freebies.

Just in case, Yane told herself and put the two bottles into her pocket. Yuta had mentioned before how Inumaki would suffer from rebounds of his own cursed technique if he strained himself. The only thing that helped with his recovery, Yuta elaborated, was throat spray.

They were stationed away from each other but a fight like this promised uncertainty. Inumaki was a vital offensive asset in the team who they cannot afford to lose. It was never a bad idea to stay ready, whether if it meant to protect him from afar or to provide him with a way to lessen the damage from his rebounds.

Yane made for the elevator, removing her bow from the case as she waited for her destination.

Anxiety ran through her like electricity.

Her footsteps on the staircase leading to the rooftop echoed inside the empty building like cold water dripping onto a metal sink.

Yane reached open air at last, the cold temperature made her shudder. It was a Shinjuku on Sunday just past four fifteen, a Shinjuku so quiet it felt abandoned.

In less than fifteen minutes the sun would set, and their battle would begin.

Yane’s phone buzzed and she checked the message from the unknown number.

Her grip closed tighter around the bow as she read.

“Hamada-senpai,” it went. “It’s Megumi. Sorry for arbitrarily messaging you like this. I got your number from that person. I don’t know what happened, but I hope things get better soon. I attached a photo as thank for the cake. It was good.”

Yane snorted, “Why does it sound like a summer homework report?”

She used to have to write those during her first week at Jujutsu High.

“Use as many Kanjis you’ve learnt as possible,” Satoru had ordered.

Yane opened the file and gratitude swelled within her. Megumi’s photo was of an alley in the sunset. Nothing too special but the scenery filled her with a surge of serenity. He must have been out for a walk.

Somehow, Yane was glad that he was in Saitama and not here where the danger was.

She pressed call, watching the last ray of light piercing through the gap of Tokyo’s concrete jungle.

“Hello?”

Megumi’s voice was quiet and hesitant.

“I got your message,” Yane said, watching the Veil slowly descending. “Thank you, Megumi. I thought I should tell you directly than through message. Thanks for making me feel better.”

“It’s nothing much.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It was enough. Don’t be out too late. Cursed spirits are usually out late at night.”

Megumi replied with a soft “Okay” and she ended the call.

Courage welled. Yane closed her eyes and pulled her bow.

The familiar view opened to her, dots of different colours below, facing an incoming cluster of dark grime.

With a deep breath, she spoke aloud, reassuring herself like she wasn’t alone on the rooftop, like Maki was standing with her. Her trusty naginata hanging off her shoulder as she rested her wrist over it with a confident smirk.

 “All right then, cursed spirits. Come and see hell.” 

Yane released her bow string.

A sudden burst of lighting startled Yane’s eyes opened.

“Sensei?” she gasped.

A sudden change of scenery rendered her disoriented.

Yane braced herself with Panda’s help as her knees grew weak from the whiplash from Satoru’s technique.

She took in the new scenery.

Yane was now on the street, huddled together with Panda and Inumaki like they were suddenly forced into the last round of an impromptu game of musical chair. Only that the chair was invisible, and they were in the middle of an active clash.

The rooftop was almost like a lucid dream.

The feeling of her shoes on the sandy concrete lingered even after Yane registered the asphalt under her feet.

“What’s going on?” she said. “I was on the–What–”

“No time, Yane-chan,” Satoru interjected. “If my intuition is right, in the worst case, Yuta and Maki could both die!”

His words brought Yane out of her haze. Panda and Inumaki flinched, taken aback by the severity of Satoru’s warning.

“I’ll head there right after I take care of that foreigner,” Satoru continued as he linked his fingers together. “Protect those two. Sorry, but defend them with your lives!”

“Got it!” Panda and Yane shout, matching Inumaki’s spirited confirmation.

One second Satoru was in front of them, the next he was gone, and Yane was airborne over Jujutsu High. The buildings in the school almost looked like artisanal display models.

Wind screamed in her ears as they descended, pummelling for the school.

“A Veil has been drawn,” Panda informed her and Inumaki. “Does that mean Satoru’s intuition is right?”

“What intuition?” Yane turned to Inumaki.

“Tuna mayo!” He made a gesture and she gulped, recognising what he had meant.

She gritted her teeth, then spat, “Geto is here.”

“I’ll break the Veil!” Panda shouted. “Then we’ll take the shorter route!”

“Spicy Cod Roe!” Inumaki responded, reaching out to Yane.

She wrapped her arms around his waist as he supported her with his arm around her back.

Yane inhaled, praying that her two friends were safe. Maki even lent her a weapon before she left. If because of that they couldn’t fight back, Yane didn’t think she could forgive herself.

“Get on my back!” Panda yelled when they landed.

He gunned for the walls, crushing through them with pure force.

“If we run into him, I’ll distract him with close combat so Toge, you can do your thing.”

“I’ll support,” Yane said.

They slammed through the wall in the blink of an eye.

Debris flew, raising a smoke screen.

Yane jumped off Panda and pulled her bow. Suguru Geto stood out like a deep, jagged blue on her Echolocation. If Satoru was a shapeless assembly of purple lightning, then Geto was a coiling whirlpool as deep as a night sky.

Her arrow flew for him.

The attacked got sucked in immediately and Yane sprinted, barely getting out of a flying boulder aimed for her.

As she rolled to a crouch, her eyes caught sight of something crimson. A puddle of red pooling around a mangled shape.

Yane froze.

“Maki…” she uttered through shaky breath and made for the body.

Maki was still warm, but she was in a bad shape, and she was heavy. Like all her muscles had given out, unable to pull her weight. There was no way Yane would be able to get her out of this situation without making her sustain worse injuries.

The only way out of this would be to defeat Geto and asked Panda for help.

Yane brushed her hand over the scratches on Maki’s face.

“Maki,” she called.

Maki’s face was so pale and twisting with pain.

Yane’s hand trembled as she reached over to Maki’s leg. It was bent in such an unusual angle that Yane thought only store-bought doll was capable of something so dreadful. How much pain Maki must have been in because they were late.

“Oh…” Yane sobbed. “What has he done to you? I need to heal you, but where to–how do I heal–”

“Yane!” Panda screamed for her.

Her Echolocation flared up like flame and she unsheathed her combat knife, digging it into the long, twisting darkness streaking her way.

Yane breathed out, ragged by the wrath bubbling over boiling point.

She pointed the blade towards Geto, “You wait right there, you bastard. I’m gonna rip you, limb from limb.”

Yane slipped out of her jacket, balling it into a cushion and place it under Maki’s head as gently as she could so no more damage could be done.

She reached for Maki’s glasses which lay tangled in her untied hair, no doubt the result of her fight.

“I’ll be borrowing this okay?” Yane whispered and brushed the hair out of Maki’s face.

When the glasses were in place, a new world opened out to her. Even though the lenses were slightly crack, Yane could still see the worm-like monsters around Geto.

This was what Maki and everyone else had been looking at, this was the ugliness that took form as soul-sucking darkness on her Echolocation.

Yane hooked three arrows between her fingers, tightening the cursed energy in them before she released the string.

They pierced through the cursed spirits, cutting off Geto’s attack on Panda.

Panda shouted, sending Geto crashing against the wall. He followed hot on his attack, slamming at Geto but missed when Geto rolled away.

Yane pulled another arrow, chasing the shape of her target. Her aim zipped back and forth with his movement until Geto kicked up a naginata and hauled it through Panda’s heart.

She let go of the arrow, noticing Inumaki as Panda fell.

Geto’s attention switched to Yane’s arrow as he belted out a cursed spirit–a tortured green nasty thing– out of thin air just so it could take the hit.

He might have been quick enough for her, but not for Inumaki.

 “PLUMMET!” Inumaki screamed, and the ground rumbled.

It was like the sky itself had dropped on them.

Dust blasted, rippling the air with tidal-wave-like streams of gusts.

Geto disappeared in a blink of an eye, lost to the abyss underneath the massive hole Inumaki had created.

Yane rushed over, relief to see Panda stood with nonchalance, pulling the weapon out of his chest.

But her relief soon dissipated when Inumaki fell to his knees, coughing out so much blood he was practically purging it from his system.

“Toge! You okay?” Panda crouched next to Inumaki.

Yane joined him, digging into her pocket for a throat spray.

“Caviar,” Inumaki groaned, clutching his throat. His voice was all hoarse now.

“Here,” she handed the medicine over to him before signalling to Panda. “Panda-kun, I’ve got Inumaki-kun. Maki–”

“Yeah!”

The three of them made for Maki.

Panda lifted her head, “Maki, are you okay? Maki.”

“Mustard leaf,” Inumaki joined him.

Maki stirred, and Yane thought the weight of the world was off her shoulder, then she heard Maki’s shaky breath as her friend forced the words out.

“N–Not yet.”

Yane’s blood ran cold.

She activated Echolocation, just in time to see a towering beast shooting for the edge of the hole.

Geto sprung out, grinning from ear to ear.

Yane could barely form a thought. She pushed herself forward, sending Inumaki and Panda to the sides as the attack came for them.

The ground disappeared from her feet.

Yane reached for some kind of anchor on the cursed spirit’s body, but her hand slipped from its waxy, smooth skin.

The attack pushed her backward at such a speed that when the wall finally stopped her, it felt like the impact had ruptured her in half.

Yane dropped to the ground; her face slammed into the concrete. Stars dance behind her eyelids.

Underneath the ringing in her ears, she heard Panda called for her. But her body felt too heavy.

All Yane could do was stay where she was, listening to the thundering beats of her heart as she screamed at her mind to move, to stand, to get up and protect her friends.

Yane’s fingers shook as she pressed her palm to the ground.

“Move,” she grunted through gritted teeth, pouring all her strength on the effort.

After two failures, Yane dug her knees in and gave it one more shot.

The extra support worked.

She raised her body against the wall into a sitting position, out of breath as the world spun.

Even in the dizzying blur and the mismatch view as the glasses resting crooked position on her most likely broken nose, Yane could still make out the most painful part of her body.

She glanced over to her left arm, seeing it covered in blood and unresponsive to her command.

It was still attached at least. That was a good thing.

But it hurt like the only thing attaching it to her was a single tendon. That wasn’t good.

She could no longer hear any sounds of the fight.

It was so eerily silent that Yane wanted to cry. Satoru had told her to defend them with your life. Ijichi had told her Satoru would protect her.

“Damn it,” she groaned, feeling around for the bow with her right arm.

There were times when one wanted to give up, go to bed, call it a day. This was not one of those times. Her body was in so much agony that even if she had a soft bed and a warm blanket, Yane wouldn’t be able to sleep.

She couldn’t close her eyes. Her mind wouldn’t rest until it knew the fates of her friends.

At the end of the day, no matter what anyone had told her, whether it was to protect someone or to rely on someone for protection, Yane was now alone, stuck in a fight with no escape.

Either she won or she died. It was that simple.

“You’re still here?” Geto said.

Yane heard him walked towards her as he spoke.

“That’s not bad for something more curses than human. Are you afraid? You’re shaking.”

Her fingers felt the familiar wooden surface. She griped the bow and brought it to her chest.

Just one moment. One deciding moment.

Yane tugged the bow string between her teeth and twisted her body. Her cursed energy swelled.

She glared at the smirk on Geto’s face, “Die.”

As the attack ripped towards him, so did Yane. She pushed as much cursed energy as she could muster to her feet and threw herself after the attack.

The arrow glowed with cursed energy, expanding as it travelled before splitting into multiples projectiles.

She slipped the throat spray bottle out of her pocket and dropped it in her cap.

Be a sorcerer, Yane, she told herself.

It would be just one second. One deciding second.

Bank on that.

Yane threw her cap and watched it flew past her attack.

The piece of clothing exploded when one of the arrows hit it right in front of Geto’s face, sending shards of glass and medicine splashing.

Yane roared, tearing Slaughter Demon from its sheath, and plunged towards the cursed user.

“Don’t you dare look down on us!” Yane screamed.

She pushed the weapon through, channelling cursed energy the more she started to feel fear.

Use it, she forced herself. Use it and protect them!

Her breath caught in her throat when a sudden pressure pushed down on her neck.

Yane couldn’t move her hand or her body.

Slaughter Demon was no longer in her hold. She, on the other hand, was in Geto’s grip, dangling off the ground as his finger dug into her neck.

Yane gasped, clawing on the skin of his arm. Her lungs burned as they begged for air.

“I thought you were worth something since that old man kept blabbering about you,” mocked Geto. “But you’re just an arrogant half-baked.”

Something cold pierced through her flesh, searing her flesh as it pushed through the skin on her back.

Yane choked on the agony, twisting in Geto’s grip as something warm trickled from her stomach, draining her strength.

Geto lowered her until she was kneeling. He loomed over her, eyes shining with contempt.

Her hand slipped from his arm, twitching from the residual of her command for it to fight.

Yane coughed, suddenly remembering the sweet savoury taste of the omelette rice she ate with Inumaki and the warmth from when Maki returned her hug.

And then she remembered hearing something fell against the ground after that.

Yane was pretty sure it was her.

Yuta thought anger was like a flame that would spread and burn everything it touched.

He was wrong.

If it was something so flimsy like a flame, easily erased by a strong wind then what he felt wasn’t anger.

No, anger was much to gentle a description for this writhing darkness inside of him.

It twisted and sucked up Yuta’s emotions: the pain he saw when he laid eyes on Maki, hair soaked in her own blood, the devastation that triumphed over that pain when he registered the others.

Panda, unmoving on the ground.

Inumaki, thrown on top rubbles like rubbish, croaking with barely a breath for Yuta to run.

And Yane, whose face contorted with the lingering phantom of a soundless scream as she bled out on the dirty concrete.

Yuta gritted his teeth. Cursed energy overflown from him like a burst dam.

“Come out, Rika,” he roared and unsheathed his sword.

Suguru Geto, the intruder who thought Yuta’s life was his to decide, the perpetrator this hellish scene before him, was going to pay.

Yuta was going to make him feel every bit of pain he had inflicted on these four and then some.

“I will kill you,” Geto said.

Yuta’s voice gnarled as he spoke, “And I’ll murder you.”

Yane found herself in an unfamiliar yet nostalgic space.

It was somewhere she once knew, but it looked different.

Smaller, darker, colder than it was supposed to be.

She was in bed, her old bed. There were comics lying strewn about and the TV was on. The TV was always on, playing the same thing in repetition.

“So, you’re the kid.”

She looked to the voice. A strange man, shrouded in ancient attire. He stood out like a sore thumb in her room which was filled with nothing reminiscent of his time.

“Who are you?” Yane got to her feet and walked over. “Why am I here?”

The man covered his face with the long, white sleeves of his attired. His frown deepened the closer she got.

Once she had a closer look at it, the clothes looked almost ceremonial.

“You were supposed to be mine, not the other way around,” he spat and swatted her away as if she was some fly. “Your body was supposed to be mine.”

Yane’s patience thinned.

She frowned and said, “Why are you talking like I’m not here? I asked you a question.”

“The like of you should not even be able to talk to me,” his voice rose. “You should feel honoured to even carry my blood.”

The indication caught Yane’s interest, and at the same time, restoked almost forgotten embers within.

“You’re from the Hama clan?” she grabbed the collar of his shirt. “You criminal!”

The man swung his arm with a shriek like he had first seen a cockroach. The force of his strength sent Yane to the ground, but she felt no pain, just a dull sensation of impact.

“Criminal!?” the man screeched. “You brat! How dare you! You knew nothing!”

“I knew you guys hurt people!”

Someone slammed on the door, rattling the chains on the other side.

“Yane!” they called. “Yane!”

Yane flinched, drawn towards the voices. She knew them, and they were waiting for her. The man dashed forward, grabbing her shoulder as he shook her.

“MINE!” He roared louder. “MINE!”

Yane screamed, pushing him away with failing arms.

“Yane!” she heard Maki called and stopped moving, the dull pain was returning, vivid like red.

Yane’s eyes bulged as she studied Maki’s face. It had lost some of its colour, but she no longer seemed in pain.

Yane reached behind Maki’s back and pulled her in.

“I thought…” said Yane as she bit back a sob. “I thought–”

“You idiot,” Maki tightened the hug. “Look at the state of you. Don’t overdo it.”

“Salmon,” Inumaki offered his hand for Yane to stand.

She took it, rising to her feet with Panda’s help as well. Her left arm and torso ached, catching her off guard and sending her staggering forward.

“Careful,” Maki caught her. “You were hurt pretty bad. Thankfully, Yuta healed us.”

His name rang in Yane’s head. Alarmed, she searched around, “Where’s Geto?”

“We don’t know but he and Yuta went at each other,” Panda explained. “They stopped now. Let’s go find Yuta. He might need help.”

Yane nodded, padding herself to check for her weapon. Inumaki held the bow out to her, and she took it with gratitude, sheathing Slaughter Demon as well once she noticed it lying next to her.

They set out, making their way through the destruction. It was like a tornado tore through the school.

Yane closed her eyes, casting Echolocation over the school as Inumaki acted as her eyes. As the signal came back, Yane caught the white flame kindling not too far from them.

“There,” she pointed to the path where her eyes could barely made out a figure on the ground.

They rushed to him.

Yuta was unconscious with a large bruise and scratches on the left side of his face. Other than those, he didn’t seem injured.

“Hey!” Maki shook him. “Hey, Yuta! Are you okay?”

Yuta’s eyes fluttered open.

Inumaki spoke as he lowered Yane so she could rest. “Mustard leaf!”

“Wake up, Yuta!” Panda called.

Yane scanned for Geto but received nothing in response. Had he made a run for it?

“Oh, he’s awake.”

She snapped out of Echolocation in response to Panda.

Yuta sat back up, looking at each of them.

Tears welled when Yane saw him, when she saw all of them alive, breathing, injured, but for sure would be okay.

“Everyone,” he said with worry-filled eyes. “Your injuries…Maki-san, Inumaki-kun, Yane-san. Wait! Panda-kun, your arm isn’t healed.”

Maki smiled at his fussing.

“Chill out,” she spoke. “We’re all doing better than you, right now.”

“Unlike these three,” Panda said. “My arm can be fixed later.”

Yane instinctively looked down at her own arm. There was enough aching there for her to know it had been damaged but the only visual clue she had of its previous state was the blood-soaked fabric of her white sweater.

“Thanks for saving us,” Panda continued.

“Salmon,” Inumaki agreed.

Yuta’s face lit up before his attention was drawn elsewhere. Yane turned towards the direction he had looked.

“What is it?” she tugged on Inumaki’s jacket.

Maki’s glasses were no longer with her. A regretful arrangement. With a cursed tool like that, she could have focused more on defeating cursed energy without worrying about moving around like she was blind.

Yuta rose to his feet and spoke. “Sorry, Rika-chan. I’ve kept you waiting.”

Panda asked, giving a strange nausea in Yane’s stomach a voice.

“What’s the matter, Yuta?”

Yuta flinched and turned partially to them, keeping his face hidden as if he was embarrassed.

“Well, uh…” he said “In exchange for borrowing her power, um, I promised to go with Rika-chan.”

Yane shot to her feet, bow in hand.

“WHAT!?” Maki shouted. “Don’t you know that means dying!?”

“What did you just say?” she readied her fingers on the bow string. “Yuta-kun, what is Maki talking about?”

Maki stood as well, “What are you thinking, you idiot!?”

Yuta scratched his neck, “Uh, well, I…”

One hint of trouble and Yane would let her arrow fly straight for Rika. It would be hurting Yuta but if it was between him and the cursed spirit, Yane would pick him any day. Even if it meant he might hate her from now on.

But the group fell quiet when a little girl appeared in front of them. She came to existence out of nowhere nearly giving Yane a heart attack.

“Who’s that?” Yane said.

Panda turned to her, “You can see her?”

Yane nodded, “In the blue dress? Yes?”

“Rika-chan?” Yuta whispered to Yane’s surprise.

The little girl in front of them didn’t look one bit like the special grade cursed spirit everyone so feared. She didn’t have the claw that casted its shadow over Yane when they first met.

Clapping came from their left, and Yane glanced over, relieved to see Satoru climbed over the rubbles as he spoke.

“Congratulations. You managed to break the curse.”

Truth to be told, just because Geto was nowhere in sight didn’t mean he wasn’t waiting for another moment to attack. By the brutality of their clash, Yane really wasn’t looking forward to going face-to-face against him again. Especially when they were all in tatter like this.

If Satoru was here, then they didn’t need to imagine another fight. They were finally safe.

Her friends, on the other hand, seemed cautious. Of Satoru, no less.

“Who are you?” they asked in unison.

Satoru frowned, “It’s your good-looking guy, Satoru Gojo-sensei.”

“Oh right,” Yane realised. “You guys haven’t seen him without his blindfold.”

Satoru shook his head with a smile and continued, “I thought the theory Yuta came up with sounded interesting, so I requested an investigation into his family.”

None of what he said rang a bell for Yane, but she listened, using the bow now as less weapon and more temporary walking stick.

“The investigation of Rika’s was finished quite a long time ago,” Satoru explained. “But Yuta’s was full of holes at best. Then it came to light.”

He smiled at Yuta.

“You’re the descendant of Sugawara Michizane! That makes us super distant relatives!”

Yane made a face, nearly falling over when Satoru put his hands up into peace signs. She was starting to understand why sometimes her friends were frustrated with him.

She raised her hand and asked just as Yuta was mumbling the same, “Who’s that?”

“One of Japan’s three great apparitions!” Maki said.

“He’s a super bigshot sorcerer,” Panda added to which Inumaki sighed.

“Tuna.”

Satoru regained his composure, finally finished with his silly dancing.

“You were right, Yuta,” he said. “Rika didn’t place a curse on you.”

Yuta fliched and turned to Rika.

“You placed a curse on Rika.”

Yane bit the inside of her cheeks as she noticed the sadness on Rika’s face at Satoru’s revelation.

 All this time, had Rika known and kept quiet about it? If so, then why? So that she could stay with Yuta? To protect Yuta?

Yane watched Yuta fell to his knees as Satoru explained how Rika’s curse had been broken and he cried out, blaming himself to making her that way.

Fear slithered back into Yane’s heart.

She looked to Inumaki, unable to imagine what she would do if something similar happened to her.

Love was such a twisted thing, she realised.

The pain that came with it was enough for a non-experience sorcerer to turn someone he loved into a fearsome spirit.

The scream from the strange man in her dream sent chills down her back. Why had she dreamt of him? What had he meant by saying she belonged to him?

Yane stepped away, removing herself from the group. She was already awake and aware, yet some part of her felt the presence of that man like a deep seed inside of her, waiting to sprout.

She was supposedly some kind of powerful weapon. ‘Special’, they named her.

Then, what if Maki had died? Or Panda? Or Yuta, or Inumaki? Would she have turned them into cursed spirits as well? Against their will?

For all Yane knew, she could very well produce something like Rika without knowing it.

Yane unbuckled Slaughter Demon from her back strap and placed it on the ground.

As the group watched Rika fade into a million sparkles, Yane walked from them, her mind filled with the scathing “MINE” from her ancestor as the bow hung by her side.

Maybe he was right. Her life was tied to this weapon. And because of that, she would be powerful against her desire.

Her power could very well bring more harm than good.

That man’s blood ran through her, which meant she was part of his criminal lineage until the end of her life, whether she liked it or not.

Whether she wanted it or not.

Chapter Text

That was a good soak , Satoru thought as he sat on the edge of his bed with his head hanging low. 

The hair towel draped over his hair as residual water dropped to the wooden floor.

His room was cold despite the central heating. Distanced conversation from others in the estate echoed outside his room. 

He didn’t put the light on, elected to stay in the dark until he grew bored or fell asleep by accident.

Satoru ran his hand over his face, pressing down on his skin which was still warm from the heat of the water, and lay back. 

It was one of those days when his body was too wired to sleep but his mind would love nothing more than to shut down and forget everything. 

Satoru was glad to feel the impending insomnia.

He had returned home, had dinner, and even taken a bath. He was living and breathing. He was alive. The experience of his body was proof of this incontestable fact. 

This body that had dictated he needed food, needed hygiene, needed rest was the same body that had seen the end to Suguru’s life. Yet, it demanded to be kept alive.

The same body that would continue to live on as long as he desired because it needed to. Because he needed to.

Satoru breathed in deeply and exhaled.

He had expected to feel something. Some kind of closure, perhaps. Not this continuation of numbness. Ten years of it was enough, but with Suguru’s death, he realised that he would never have reached the ending he really wanted in the first place.

The world he had set out to create no longer had its intended occupant. His best friend, the only one Satoru ever had, was gone, bringing along with his death a part of Satoru. 

He held his hand to his chest. Perhaps it was different now after Suguru was gone. He’d like to think this feeling wasn’t numbness. No. Its depth spanned much deeper. 

He wasn’t numb. 

No, Satoru was hollow.

His phone rang from the table, and Satoru sat up, drying his head with the towel as he took the call. He expected a call, but not today and not this late.

“Yane-chan? What’s up?”

There was a long pause on the other side. 

Yane’s behaviour and departure from the group today hadn’t escaped his attention, but Satoru thought for now he could continue to keep an eye on her. So far Maki and the others have been doing a good job just by themselves, there was hardly any need for him to intervene.

“Gojo-sensei,” said Yane. 

Her voice was calm and even, removed of the usual cheerfulness when she called to him. 

“Do you have time right now?”

Satoru’s hand stopped brushing the towel against his hair. Caution twisted his core.

He cracked a smile, “What is it? Are you asking me out on a date? At this time of night?”

The uncanny nature of her mannerism brought him back to reality like a splash of ice water. Satoru walked to his window, peering out from the second floor to a single figure hiding behind a tree outside.

Yane continued with urgency, “I need advice. I’m outside of your estate right now. Can you come out?”

Satoru pulled the towel off; his smile grew into a wicked grin. He wasn’t getting as much information from those Hama survivors as he expected.

Well, calling them survivors would be a lie now.

Satoru shouldn’t have been surprised when they hadn’t given him much to work with despite being pushed to their limits. There were three kinds of Hama. Those knew enough to stick to some misguided ideal, those knew nothing at all, and the dead ones.

Yane’s parents, unfortunately, fell into the first category. The only reason they were left alive was because they had run from the clan. Satoru could always find them when he needed to find them.

Eventually, when the clues he could unearth went cold, Satoru decided it would be faster for him to wait and see if anything would happen with Yane. Best if nothing did, but Satoru made plans should the opposite occur.

He was right, of course. Something must have happened.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you in five minutes.”

It was snowing outside. The snow had built enough to reduce footsteps into muffled crunches.

As the main estate gate closed behind him, Satoru pretended to look around for a bit. Whoever this bastard was, they made it a point to put on an act, so it was only polite he reciprocated. 

Satoru heard a piercing sound and glanced to his right, catching shadows. 

Five arrows bounced off the air, disappearing into the thick snow.

The speed of those arrows had been quicker, and their impact stronger. It shouldn’t give Satoru any problem, but Yuta might have been caught off guard. Not that it would affect that boy much.

Satoru chuckled at the thought and waved towards the launching point of the arrow.

“Oh, there you are,” he said. 

Yane stood in the snow, bow in her hand, the absolute opposite of the white background in her dark navy uniform and raven black hair. 

She looked tattered, serious, and unnatural. 

There hadn’t been a time when Yane was the least bit hostile towards him, even when he was the harbinger of bad news for her. Whoever this was, they were no students of his.

Her breath fogged the air and slowly, another image appeared on top of her physical body. A man in ceremonial clothes.

“What’s this?” Satoru took off his sunglasses and turned fully to the body of his student. “A tad too late to the Christmas party, aren’t we?”

Yane’s expression darkened but her light brown pupils glistened like that of a predator when locked onto its prey. 

She lunged forward, swinging her bow at him as if it was a bat. 

Satoru dodged, redirecting her attack elsewhere. He caught her fist when she went in for a punch. The attack was heavy, much heavier than what he expected.

They clearly knew who he was and knew what it took to attack him. This was no impulsive outburst and in no way was Yane in control.

“Not bad,” Satoru whistled, twisting Yane’s hand behind her back. “So… who might you be?”

A guttural mixture of Yane’s voice and that of the ghastly man came out.

“Silence,” it demanded.

Yane twisted herself out of Satoru’s hold and slid between his legs, using her weight to pull him to the ground. 

He dug in his feet to step her and Yane jumped onto his shoulders, locking her arms around his head.

Satoru reached up, grabbing the fragile figure of his student by the collar of her shirt and swung her to the ground. He could hear the heavy groan of her body against the surface on impact. Annoyance bubbled up inside as Satoru pinned both of her hands behind her back by his knee.

He leaned down, pulling out a few talismans poking out from the pocket of Yane’s jacket. How talented. This man was a shikigami-user on top of having close combat skills. 

Satoru grinned. “I asked you a question.”

 “Unhand me, you filthy–”

Yane squirmed under him as she growled. Satoru pressed his knee further and the body gasped, crying out in pain.

“Wrong answer. I’m not asking again.”

“Yahiro,” the body answered.

Satoru chuckled, “Yahiro Hama then, I assume. Aren’t you in the wrong vessel?” 

He pointed to the bow.

A wicked grin appeared on Yane’s face.

“I’ve always been in the right vessel, you imbecile. This thing was built for me!”

Satoru frowned. His mind raced as he processed the information coming out of Yane’s mouth. Yahiro Hama was the head of the Yama clan, but that was from Heian. If Ijichi’s information was correct, then he should have been sealed into the bow, not Yane’s body.

His claim that Yane was the right vessel, would be at least a few hundred years wrong. Unless…

Those fuckers were transferring him into her , Satoru realised.

No wonder the entire clan was purged. This level of skill would be too dangerous to ignore.

He almost smiled, baffled by the truth unfolding in front of his eyes. These Hama bastards were powerful enough to basically do the equivalent of a file transfer for a soul right under his nose. Him, the Six Eyes owner.

They must have known about the Six Eyes, and they clearly knew enough to pull this kind of crap. Satoru had thought he had no blind spot. It wasn’t exactly a good feeling to be proven wrong again.

“Crafty fuckers,” he spat.

That would explain Yane’s Echolocation. Instinctually, she was mimicking his ability even though only at the surface level. He had thought it was a happy coincidence, but it turned out to be programming.

And not good programming either.

Contempt took hold of him.

Satoru knew that the bow was dangerous. It was always leaking cursed energy ever since he saw it, but he suspected that was because of its power. Seals were bound to grow weak over time, which was why it was important to redo them every few decades. As long as they were on top of the renewal ritual, there shouldn’t be any problem.

And so, Satoru did nothing when he saw the cursed energy enveloping Yane’s energy because he knew there was a reason she had been sold to the school.

Even if her mother couldn’t put two words together about it when she met him, the way that woman had looked screamed fear and desperation. One needn’t be aware one was holding a bomb to want to get rid of it.

And Satoru wanted to see what was so special about this child that warranted such a level of fuss. He thought he knew.

He thought she was special simply because she was inseparable from the real weapon of her clan as its only wielder because her mother was disgusted by it and her existence. 

But the premise he set out was incorrect from the start.

All along, Yane was the weapon. She was always meant to be the weapon. Both her and the bow were incomplete, and that was why they were here now with him restraining her.

He should have known. His suspicions had only got him so far. Or was it something else that stopped Satoru from considering it?

Something must have happened. Yane was doing fine so far. What could have triggered this?

Something must have changed within her over the last few hours that the balance between herself and this cursed spirit had toppled over. Was it the battle with Suguru? Was it something deeper? Or both?

If, and that was a big ‘if’, Yahiro completely took over her body and she was erased, they would have a real situation on their hands. Screw attracting unwanted attention. There was virtually nothing they knew about Yahiro Hama except that he had a gigantic grudge against sorcerers in general.

Should I take care of her now? he lamented.

Education was no easy feat, and at times it could be too tiring for Satoru’s liking. Even so, Yane was still his student, and if he brought her into this, he needed to make sure she wouldn’t end up with a worse fate after he pulled her out of her hometown.

“Can’t you just like… disappear or something?” he grumbled. “I’m not into beating up my student in the middle of the night. We both need a good rest after today.”

“Arrogant brat! You were the one that made this thing intelligent,” Yahiro spat. “You ruined it, Satoru Gojo.”

Satoru frowned, “Don’t call my student a ‘thing’, you lame-o. Now, leave when I’m still asking nicely.”

“If this useless half-baked hadn’t been so beaten up from that stupid fight,” Yahiro grunted as Yane’s eyes slowly closed. “I would have won. If only–”

“You didn’t win because my student stretched herself broken while protecting her friends, you idiot,” said Satoru. “And you lost because you wasted your time to engineer her to be like me at all costs, then failed.”

He held up his fist and brought it down on Yane’s face, turning off Infinity on impact. Once the foreign cursed energy withdrew back into Yane’s body, Satoru stood. 

He tutted, kicked the bow and ran his fingers through his hair. His knuckles dully ached.

He pulled out the phone and punched in a call for Ijichi.

“Good. You’re still awake,” said Satoru when the line connected. “Can you get the detainment room ready then come pick me and Yane-chan up? And look into soul transfer technique or any cursed technique that handles souls. I’ll need it after New Year.”

Satoru cut the call before Ijichi finished his stammering to get in a question. 

He leaned down and hauled Yane over his shoulder, flipping the bow up with the tip of his shoe before catching it in the air. 

The snow was getting heavier. 

Yane’s clothes were ruined during the fight with Suguru, and yet this failure of a Hama ancestor couldn’t even let her change before he dragged her battered body all the way here. 

There was no way that old man knew how to use a taxi.

“That must have been some walk,” he muttered and re-entered the estate.

With what happened today, it was unlikely the executives would turn a blind eye. No amount of hiding or acting carefully would be able to help her now, which meant the Hama clan would be doubling their efforts for her as well.

Whether she fell to the hands of those standing on top of the jujutsu world, or her forsaken clan, there was no happy ending waiting for her.

Satoru gritted his teeth.

It seemed his plan to reset this accursed world would have to take a little bit longer given the current circumstance. But Satoru made a choice, and he chose this path for a reason. No matter what happened, he would see it through, and then after he did, he would finally be able to go home and relax.

Yane half expected it to be a dream.

A dream from which when she woke, Yane would feel nothing more than a disappearing sense of dread. 

She would be crawling out of bed, sore from her injuries but all in all ready for a new day. She’d go to Maki’s room, wake her up and insist on taking her to Ieiri Shoko–their resident doctor–for a check-up. After that, Yane’d help Inumaki make breakfast for the whole group and all of them would gather at the common room, talking about the next mission as if they hadn’t been at death’s door just a few hours prior.

But it wasn’t a dream.

The pain Yane felt when the world came into focus again wasn’t from her fight with Geto.

This was newer and it hurt a lot more.

And that was without factoring in the constant urge at the back of her mind calling for blood–Satoru’s blood.

Yane assessed her surroundings. 

Someone had put her in a windowless room with walls on four sides, overridden by talismans. A forever orange hue printed into the faded beige of the talismans. It danced whenever the lights from a plethora of candles in the room flickered.

There was no window but given the fact that she was still alive, Yane presumed there must be a way for air to enter the room. She just didn’t know how.

She couldn’t hear any sound besides what should have been the inaudible crackling of wicks.

“And how are we this morning?”

Yane turned to the voice, recognising her teacher.

Satoru was on the floor. He sat cross-legged before her; one arm slung over his bent knee while he rested his cheek on this other. 

He studied her like a kid looking at his newly captured stag beetle. His pale blue eyes glowed like stars. 

His hair was down. Silver white strands gathering like a thin veil in place of the usual blindfold.

Satoru had a neutral look on his face, inquisitive but cautious.

His voice didn’t echo, but it sounded louder since they were the only two in the room. Or were they?

Yane closed her eyes and forced out a breath.

No Echolocation happening. Of course. They wouldn’t have let her use cursed energy. Those talismans must have meant to keep her quiet and subdued.

Yane wanted to cry at the sight of Satoru. Memories emerged of the blistering winter contrasting the stinging burn on her wrist where he had held her down to stop Yahiro. 

It really happened. 

She had really attacked him. 

“Sensei…” 

Her voice was thin like smoke.

She should have felt cold, being out in the snow for so long, walking from the dorm to Satoru’s house, but the tips of her fingers weren’t aching. Quite the opposite in fact. Yane was warm, cocooned in a puffed jacket much bigger than her frame. She didn’t even need to guess whose jacket it was.

The piney scent emitting from the clothes coupled with the burned wax reminded Yane of a winter night cabin in the forest. If only what was before her now matched her imagination.

She lifted her hands to take off the jacket but stopped in surprise when a sudden weight fell on her wrist.

Metal rattled then scraped on concrete. Her breath quickened. Amid the forestry fragrance, Yane recalled a phantom whiff of mildew and dust.

She looked up, afraid she might find a small window and half a moon. But Yane found nothing and let out a relieved sigh. Her body settled from hot flashes and she spoke.

“What is this place?”

“The isolation chamber,” Satoru said. “Temporary confinement before what’s next.”

Yane held her breath, “And what is next?”

Satoru uttered, “The higher-ups just sentenced you to death.”

The information sucked the air from her lungs, but the truly startling thing for Yane was the composure in Satoru’s voice when he delivered the news. He was cold and precise like a knife.

The man before her wore her teacher’s face, but he was clearly someone she didn’t know. Or was it simply a different facet that Yane had only now seen for the first time?

Even when they were strangers, Satoru was never without a smile on his face. Maybe this was how he was when angered… or perhaps disappointed.

Yane couldn’t decide which was worse.

Whichever it was, he was justified. 

For a split second, she was reminded of the time she put ice cream in the oven instead of the fridge because her attention was on Yuta and Panda’s discussion over what would be the best ride in the amusement park.

Yane had smacked herself on the forehead then.

Now, she wanted to throw her entire body against the ground. Over and over again. But no amount of self-inflicting pain or apology could reverse what Satoru had to go through because of her. 

Yane wavered for a single moment, then asked, “Are you–Why are you here, sensei?”

“To see you,” he said concisely.

“You’ve seen me,” she said and moved away.

Metal clank, drawing her attention to the chains on her legs. They tied her to a ring in the middle of the room. Funny how they had thought she would consider running.

Funny how they were right.

Satoru was justified in his anger, but it hadn’t meant he wasn’t scaring her. Against the truth that she probably had no right to feel persecuted, Yane couldn’t ignore the heaviness in her chest when Satoru looked at her like that.

It hurt.

Like a sudden slap, the school and the jujutsu world quickly made Yane’s position clear. She was to be tolerated until she was harmful or dead, whichever came first.

Unfortunately for her, this time there was little interval in between before one followed the other.

Yane stood, “I’d rather you’re not here when they–” she gulped– “execute me.” 

Satoru eyed her, “Yane-chan, I’m asking this because I want to know but do you want to die? Like actively.”

She chuckled at the question. Her body shook.

The laughter rang dryly across the room. 

It almost sounded like Satoru was sincerely asking if Yane willingly chose death.  Before she came to Jujutsu High, the concept of death had been a neutral thing. 

Now, it no longer was. 

She wouldn’t have thrown her broken body at Geto or felt like running away now if she had wanted to die. Asking that when her will had ceased to be relevant in the equation felt awfully cruel of him.

What she had done, what she allowed her body to do, was aggression against a fellow sorcerer. Something like that wouldn’t be overlooked easily, especially by the high-ups.

And it shouldn’t be overlooked easily. There were rules in place to keep sorcerers in check. Consequences naturally followed, regardless of choice.

She met her teacher’s eyes, and words came out as her face twisted in anger. 

“That’s no longer up to me now, isn’t it? I was trying to kill you.” Yane touched the jacket. “Thank you for this. I’m sure they’d return it to you after…”

Her voice died. Then, Satoru smirked.

“You gave up quickly.”

“As opposed to what? Escape from here? Or something worse?”

Satoru squinted, “And what would ‘something worse’ be?”

“I don’t know,” Yane scoffed. “Getting you and the others in trouble by association. I’m not something ‘good’, sensei. Given how fast the higher-ups put the death sentence on me and how you always talked about how much trouble they sent your way, it’s pretty evident by now.”

“Yane-chan… I don’t know if you know but–” Satoru tilted his head– “you have quite a boring view of the world. Like deciding I’m the good guy and automatically branding yourself as the bad guy.”

“You’re probably the only one to find the truth boring.”

Satoru snorted, “That’s like a grade-schooler’s level of a thought process. Megumi is younger than you and even he knows better. Calm down.”

Something snapped in Yane’s head when she heard him. This absolute madman, who was just attacked not so long ago by her, was beaming like he had discovered a new limited ice cream flavour.

“Calm down? Sensei, Yahiro wanted to kill you! I could still feel his thoughts in the back of my head! He wanted you dead!”

Satoru’s smile receded into a steely expression. He stood and crossed his arms. His eyes flashed as he spoke.

“Bold of you to assume anyone from the Hama clan could kill me.”

“And what if they could? What then?”

Yane backed away as he loomed over her. The walls looked as though they were closing in, ready to crush them both. 

Her nose stung as Yane bit back her tears.

Satoru laughed again, this time louder than the last, almost doubling over as his shoulders shook.

“The second you said ‘they’, that possibility ceased to exist.” 

He wiped a non-existing tear from under his lash. 

“To tell you the truth, I’m actually pretty fond of your simple view. It’s direct, like an arrow, like your name. But did you know, Yane-chan? No matter how straight the course might seem, the arrow still bends on its way towards its target.”

Yane pulled her hands into fists.

“What’s your point?”

Satoru’s eyes softened. She let him pressed his thumb on her cheek and smudged away something from it as he spoke.

“There’s an infinity between the black and white you see in this world, Yane-chan. One can go from one side to the other.” His voice trembled. “It’s not fair to assume they will stay on one side forever.”

Yane’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

Did he say this because he really thought she was being unreasonable to herself? Even after what had happened, how could he still hold some sort of faith that she wouldn’t attack him a second time?

It wasn’t confidence from the chains or the room full of talisman.

He had been so collected in Yane’s hazy memory of the attack as well that it was borderline frightening. It was as if he knew this could happen and accepted it or that he thought it wouldn’t have mattered either way. 

He was the strongest.

An unbearable cold spread inside of her, the kind of cold that intruded so fast the unfortunate fool in contact was fooled into mistaking it for warmth. And Yane had known that warmth. She had wanted nothing more but that warmth, nothing more than to indulge herself in it.

But the memory of Yahiro’s actions, the words he had spoken, the goal he wanted to accomplish by using her body had made it all meaningless. He had already succeeded once. There was no way he wouldn’t try again because to Yahiro, Yane wasn’t a problem like he was to her.

The fight she gambled her life on, the people she fought so hard to protect and to see again, once Yahiro had taken hold of her like he had today, what would happen to them then?

Yane would be another source of pain for them in this world which was already so cruel to them.

Satoru was too calm for someone who hadn’t known anything.

If he had expected this then why did he let her study here? Why did he put her around Maki and the others? 

Why did he let her love them?

Why did he make her a human?

Maybe Yahiro was right. Yane shouldn’t have been given all of this.

More than any physical pain she had experienced before, it was her heart that felt like it was ripping apart at the thought of hurting Satoru and her friends, of never seeing them ever again, and of bringing them more pain by being a part of their lives.

The last thing they remembered about her might be how utterly defeated she was going head-to-head with Suguru Geto and then executed for attacking their teacher because she lost to someone who had died hundreds of years ago.

Yane hung her head.

And yet, she wanted to live. 

Leaving them without repaying their kindness was nothing more than running away from her own responsibilities.

There were more to experience more with them. She wanted that. She wanted to be worthy of them… to be worthy of life.

“Yane-chan, you know,” Satoru said. “As a cursed tool, I’d say you’re pretty useless.”

The claim drew Yane to him. Useless he said. Why had the school purchased her then if she was so useless? 

“Those Hama geezers must have been out of their mind,”  he continued. “A bunch of idiots. Kinda reminds me of the ones I’m dealing with right now.” 

Satoru looked up in thoughts, staring at the talismans covering the ceiling. 

“I wonder if this is a generational thing. The higher-ups wanted you as something they could control and push around to do their dirty work. Without knowing how volatile a sentient tool could be. And now that they can’t control it, they want it gone. See? Aren’t they idiots?”

Yane stared at him. As a sorcerer, she had done all she could to not give the executives a reason to remove her. Even if that meant repenting for whatever wrong her clan had committed.

Because there was nothing else but a mouldy old room waiting for her if she wasn’t a good sorcerer.

In the end, it looked like she ran from one prison to the next. 

But what about Satoru? What was it for him?

Why had he done all this knowing she would one day end up here? Was he also shackled like her? Held back by his responsibilities? And if yes, then for whom?

Satoru crouched, picking up the chain on her ankles.

“Yahiro Hama was wrong, Yane-chan,” he said. “I’m not the one who gave you your intelligence or your emotions. The only I’ve ever given you was options. Like that day we met, like the other day at the dorm, and like today.”

Yane directed her gaze at him and searched for the smallest twitch on Satoru’s face that would indicate he was lying. Any taint in that crystal clear aquamarine eyes of his. Any waver in his voice. 

But just like the beauty of pure white snow in the winter, his intention was pristine.

Satoru was right. 

Intelligence and feelings were both what she had wanted, and Yane had clung onto both like her lifeline. Because they were, because without them she would never know how safe a hug could feel, how bright a smile could be, how soft fur was or how terrible an idea wasabi ice cream had been.

It was painful. No doubt about it, but Yane wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“What do you want from me then? I’m a useless tool, like you said. Why are you really here, sensei?”

Satoru smiled, “You’ve been training to protect others, but think about it, Yane-chan. You’re still sixteen. You’re still at an age where you deserve to be protected too.” 

His smile turned crooked. 

“And yet those geezers think it’s okay to push someone under my protection around like she’s some toy to discard when they’re bored.”

Her lips shook. Yane drew a breath as she clenched her jaws to hold back tears.

Satoru rested his hand on her head in the same steady and warm manner he had always shown her. 

“I’m asking you again because this has to do with your life, Yane-chan. What do you want to do?”

It was okay to tell him , a small voice assured Yane from within. Satoru wasn’t lying. Satoru wasn’t trying to test her. He wanted to know her wishes. Sincerely so.

She gripped the chains dangling from her cuffs, mumbling through suppressed fear.

“I want to take these off.” 

Her voice grew as she spoke. 

“I want to leave this room. I want to sleep in my bed. I want to go to the mall with Maki and the others. I want to have another birthday party with you.”

She sobbed, pressing her forehead against the chains. The cold metal burned into her skin.

“Sensei, you’re the strongest out there, right?”

“Yep,” Satoru said.

Yane looked up at him and spoke with all her shaking might as she clung onto his shirt. 

“Help me. I don’t want to hurt you or anyone against my will ever again.”

“Okay,” he ruffled her hair and smiled. “Leave it to your teacher.”

He looked proud and confident like the embodiment of the “strongest” title he carried. Yane burned the image into her mind as though to show Yahiro a warning and to give herself a reminder.

Ijichi was right. Satoru Gojo would protect her.

Chapter Text

Yane wiped her nose with the back of her hand, worried her mucus would get on Satoru’s jacket. Her nose stung and her cheeks puffed like a mushroom head, but her body was light.

Satoru lifted her by the elbows. His usual playfulness returned when he put on his signature sunglasses.

“Yane-chan, now that we agreed to do what you wanted, there are a few things you need to know.”

She nodded and waited for Satoru to continue.

“Unfortunately, I can say for certain that people in positions like yours will have a difficult time living a free life.”

Yane nodded with a heavy sigh. The inevitable fact stirred an undeniable apprehension in her stomach. Wherever she went, whichever side she associated herself with, there would be little to no different in her role. 

The only difference would be how many people actually view me as a human , Yane told herself.

She took the cuff of Satoru’s sleeve, and he looked back at her, curious but quiet as he waited for her to speak.

The way his eyes shone behind the dark view of his sunglasses and the orange shade casted on him by the candles reminded her of the dying sunlight when they first met. So much happened since. Both good and bad. Neither regrettable.

“I may be unable to live freely,” she said. “Doesn’t mean I can’t fight for the freedom to live.”

She lifted her face, showing Satoru her best defiant grin. 

“Right?”

Satoru grinned back, “That’s my student.” 

He crouched, and picked up her shackles. The chains rattled in his hand before they folded into themselves as though they were dough being kneaded and ripped. They tore apart, dropping to the floor. Pieces clank against each other, then against the wooden floor. Their clattering was piercing, but to Yane it sounded musical.

Once everything quieted down, there was only the crackling of candle wicks.

Satoru held his hand out for her and spoke, his voice soft like the first snow.

“Close your eyes for a second.”

Yane complied and felt the whiplash from a sudden temperature change. In a matter of seconds, the warmth emitted by the room and the candles were replaced by blistering cold and biting winds.

“You can open your eyes now,” said Satoru.

Yane blinked, getting used to the faded indigo of the night which was lit by parallel lines of lamps upwards a long staircase. It was a path she knew but had never travelled.

They were on school grounds. That much was clear to her. The crisp and almost sacred air had signalled her to the familiarity. But even on school grounds, there were places students were allowed to move about and locations where they weren’t. Not unless they were called. And if they were summoned, it would usually mean they were in the presence of people much more powerful than them.

This was one of those places.

The ominous staircase demanded respect, forcefully if needed be, just like the people governing the space at the top of it.

Her grip on Satoru’s hand tightened as Yane felt the nerves getting to her. His hand was large and warm, unlike the snow beneath her bare feet.

Satoru walked first, but he walked slowly. It would have been difficult to keep up with his pace when his stride was nearly twice that of hers.

Yane smiled at his casual kindness.

The strongest man alive knew to wait for those weaker than him.

“Since it’s not going to be great for you either way, I think you have the right to know the gist of it, Yane-chan,” Satoru said. “It’s only my guess but Yahiro must have something to do with the Binding Vow put on you.”

She flinched, “Put on me? Not the one I made with my mother?”

Satoru nodded.

“The only Binding Vows that you ever made was amplification of your power, and if I have to guess, to reunite with the bow. The rest were, more or less, between Hama clan heads and Yahiro with the latest one involving you.”

“I’m confused.”

Satoru laughed.

“Simply putting it, you got caught in the crossfire when it was someone else from your clan who started the fight.”

Yane held out her hands to catch a snowflake. It landed in her palm, spreading the chill up her arm before it died out under the heat provided by Satoru’s jacket.

She smiled. Of course. Had the outside not been so cold that she could never feel this warmth. 

Satoru lifted the hood of the jacket over her head.

“You know,” he said. “I met your mother once when she came to us with the offer to hand you over.”

“For the sale.”

Satoru’s hand twitched before it tightened around hers.

“Yep. For the sale,” he said. “There were three things she told me though I suspect she was hiding a lot more than she was sharing.”

The fact that her mother was keeping secrets didn’t come to Yane as a surprise. Clearly, Yane herself was an integral part of those secrets.

Satoru raised the index finger on his free hand.

“The first thing was her trump card against the Hama survivors. Something she couldn’t bring herself to do.” He stopped and turned to Yane. “Yane-chan, do you happen to know what a Blood Oath is?”

She shook her head. The name suggested its nature but the way Satoru said it gave her the impression that he didn’t mean it in the conventional meaning.

“A Blood Oath is slightly different from the Binding Vows,” he explained. “It’s an unfair trade-off. It’s something done between samurai and their lord way back when, or between sorcerers often between those that lost in battles to those who had won.

“In that injustice, however, it gave the one without the upper hand, or the samurai, the ability to accomplish great feats in the name of their lord. That’s a gross generalisation though.”

Yane laughed at Satoru’s tone. The indication of her mother’s refusal, however, made the laughter jaded.

“Why did she refuse it?”

Satoru shrugged and walked, “She said she was too weak to be the ‘lord’, and too scared to be the ‘vassal’ apparently. Like today, she feared what Yahiro might do if he managed to take over your body.”

Yane shuddered at the thought, but curiosity got the better of her.

“Like what? Yahiro killing her?”

“Most likely. She did steal you from the clan, so it’s likely she wanted to do the ‘right thing’ and not being able to monitor your situation would be a disadvantage.”

Yane almost laughed. The right thing, he said. 

“So, if following that logic, she would have done it if she was strong enough to be the ‘lord’?”

“Possibly.” Satoru shrugged. “Who knows. I’m not interested in weakling, but she did give me interesting information.”

He raised his index finger.

“First, there is a need for someone strong enough to assume the role of the ‘lord’, most likely strong enough to subdue Yahiro.”

Then he raised his middle finger.

“Second, the ‘vassal’ had to be loyal to the ‘lord’ which is why she didn’t want to be that vassal.”

Yane stopped. She studied the smile slowly showing itself on Satoru’s lips.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Yane-chan?”

She nodded. All the conditions were met. Almost too conveniently, as though her mother had meant for it. 

Jujutsu High had two branches. The closest one would have been Kyoto, yet her mother specifically picked the Tokyo branch.

Yane couldn’t help but think the preference was related to Satoru. After all, she had met him face-to-face. What had she seen when she met him? What had she felt? What was the ‘right thing’ in her mind?

How had this woman settled on her decision?

For all intent and purposes, she had gone to the school and not the jujutsu society itself. It was as if she didn’t trust the latter, or at least less than she trusted the former.

Yane told herself to not overthink it. Her abandonment was a set fact, and no amount of pondering would change it or the way she felt about it. But Yane keyed the theories into her brain for later counter measurement for boredom.

She asked as she watched the snow falling heavier around them.

“Why do you think Yahiro managed to take over my body? Is that sort of thing common in sorcery, sensei?”

Satoru tilted his head as if to think but his lax posture hinted at the opposite.

“Hama clan’s techniques and skills were pretty much a secret to the rest of the jujutsu world,” he grumbled. “They were shadow agents back during Heian after all. That kind of job wasn't meant for loose lips. But one thing was clear about your origin, Yane-chan.”

He pointed at her.

“You were supposed to be a sacrifice, but your mother turned you into a bargaining chip. She’s a more resourceful woman than one would think.”

She made a confused noise and blinked, “Okay?”

“The second thing your mother said was that she made a Binding Vow with Yahiro as well. Well, more precisely the bow which I assume housed the majority of Yahiro’s soul for now. She ensured that it must always follow its user’s conscious will in exchange for its protection. Which means that if you lose that consciousness, something like last night might repeat.”

Yane gasped. 

After leaving her friends, she had returned to the dorm and before she knew it, headed straight for the bed to rest her aching body. That must have allowed Yahiro to take over her. But if that was the case, then was she to never sleep or lose consciousness? Such would be a tall order.

“There,” Satoru snapped his fingers as if he could read her mind. “Since the bow can only be wielded effectively by the Hama bloodline, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you finally accepted yourself as a Hama, didn’t you?”

At first, she thought about denying it, but after much hesitation, Yane nodded. She hadn’t thought her resignation would come back to bite her like this. The same blood that had allowed her to help her friend had reared its ugly head at last.

“Cursed energy depends quite a bit on the user’s state of mind,” explained Satoru. “The bow might have listened to you before. Now, it bonded with you. Understandable since you were meant to be its successor.”

Which meant the problem would persist unless exterminated from the root. And the root of it was Yane. That dampened the appeal of the extermination.

She looked at Satoru. In the brief look they exchanged the two of them knew they were on the same page. Yane’s last option was something her mother couldn’t do, something that had finally edged on feasibility: the Blood Oath.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Yane-chan.” Satoru stopped, squeezing her hand in his. “There are fatal consequences to the ‘vassal’ if they disobey the ‘lord’.”

Yane chuckled and shook her head.

“I’m the one who asked for your help, sensei. I’m not going to whine and throw a tantrum about it now. Besides, my fate was already sealed by the higher-ups. It’s the same whether I pledge this Blood Oath or not.”

Satoru lowered himself to her eye level, practically kneeling on the ground. If anyone could see them, they definitely would be wondering which one of them was the lord in this case.

Yane nearly let a giggle escape at the thought.

“Let’s do the oath,” she said. “Better the prison I chose than the one forced upon me.”

“Wow,” Satoru drew out the sound jokingly. “The little udon-kid is getting cooler by the day, I see”

The compliment made her blush. Yane cleared her throat.

“So, how do we do this?”

“It hinges on the state of mind so you can use your own words to do the pledge,” said Satoru. “Usually, there would be something written down as evident, but given the circumstances, we’ll make do with a pinkie promise. It’s an oath written into the soul after all.”

Yane laughed at his suggestion for the pinkie promise. The imagery felt a bit too childish for something so serious. When she really thought about it though, it wasn’t as though any of this situation could be called normal.

Accept the weird that came with it , she told herself.

Satoru bit down on his thumb, drawing blood and held it towards her.

“I, Satoru Gojo of the Gojo clan, in my true name, hereby acknowledge the unwavering loyalty and service of this individual, taking her as my vassal.”

Yane mimicked him. The conscious effort to injure herself made the bite more painful, but that must have been why it was important. It was the willingness to chip away a part of oneself and dedicate it to this commitment.

“I, Yane Ha–” she hesitated.

“Hamada,” Satoru nodded.

“–Hamada of the Hama clan, in my true name, hereby swear my allegiance to Satoru Gojo of the Gojo clan who I acknowledge as my lord. To whom I pledge unyielding fealty, place my undying trust, and dedicate my service to uphold his honour, and offer my life for his protection.”

Satoru whistled, causing Yane’s cheeks to burn with embarrassment. Since he gave her no script, she had no other choice but to derive from her available knowledge of samurai pledges. He had no right to tease her about it.

Satoru chuckled when she pouted.

“In recognition of Yane Hama’s valour and service, Satoru Gojo shall provide her with protection against her foe, ensure her well-being, guide her towards a path free of wickedness, and carry out just punishment for any of her transgression.”

He gestured to her thumb.

“Channel your cursed energy into your blood.”  

She followed his instruction, and he hooked his pinkie finger over hers before pressing their thumbs together.

“Repeat after me,” he said. “Let this act seal our bond by our soul.”

“Let this act seal our bond by our soul.”

Satoru nodded, “And may it be unbreakable by the power that be witnessing this oath.”

“And may it be unbreakable by the power that be witnessing this oath,” Yane repeated.

She staggered backward when their hands broke free of each other. Something exploded from her chest. It clung onto her like an invisible weight but at the same time made her feel like someone had taken the ground from under her feet. 

Bile rose to her throat and Yane rushed to the nearest bush. Hands and knees on the snow, she wretched.

A thick, grimy liquid fell to the ground, dying the snow deep red. Her throat burned with a pain she had never experienced.

Yane sobbed, “Wha…”

The signature tang of copper washed into her nose. Her arms shook. The pain doubled like a second layer of pressure.

Her arms buckled.

“That’s probably me,” Satoru caught her. “A part of my cursed energy is mixing with yours so it’s natural we’d see a reaction. You’ll probably have to get used to it. Build your body up with tolerance. In return, Yahiro will be kept dormant with my energy.”

“Now I see why my mother disliked this,” Yane wheezed, trying to keep a straight face.

She stood with help from Satoru. It felt like broken glass was flushing through her veins. 

Yane sweated. Each drop invited a disturbing sense of awareness when they clung onto her skin, enveloping her like she had jumped into a furnace naked.

She asked, hoping to distract herself from the agony.

“And the third thing my mother told you?”

Satoru continued up the stairs with his arm supporting her back. 

“She said she’d like you to not resent her too much because she tried her best.”

“What a greedy thing to say,” Yane choked out a scoff. “Then again, I’m definitely her daughter considering how large my greed is for a life beyond my stature.”

She tried to carry the conversation, following Satoru as fast as she could but her legs slowed like they were made of lead and the cold winter finally got to her. Perhaps it was the altitude. They were staying on a mountain after all. That would explain why it was difficult to breathe.

Yane balled a part of Satoru’s jacket in her hand as the scenery spun. 

Then, everything went dark.

Satoru stood before the executives, beaming from ear to ear as he carried Yane’s body in his arms. He couldn’t see the reaction on those geezers’ faces but what he wouldn’t pay to witness it; and once he did, he would rub it in their faces.

It was only right after what they put him and Yane through.

They sat as protocol, hidden behind curtains created to block out their faces. The room remained dark, lit only by a few short candles.

Dramatic idiots , Satoru thought.

“What is the meaning of this, Satoru Gojo?” one of them asked.

“The execution of the Hama clan’s weapon has been carried out as per your request,” Satoru said, not bothering to hide his pride.

They whispered amongst themselves, buzzing like flies. One to his left spoke when the whispering faded. This one didn’t yell, but the restraint on his voice was evidence of an effort to keep calm.

“What is the meaning of this? Is that not Yane Hama, alive and breathing?”

Satoru’s smile brightened. 

“Nope. This is my vassal.” He pulled up Yane’s sleeve, revealing a blood red ring around her bicep that shone like it had been made from crystal instead of skin. “Who pledged loyalty to me through the Hama clan’s Blood Oath.”

There was a moment of absolute silence. Satoru waited with bated breath for the next reaction, practically shaking with anticipation.

Then, a roaring round of laughter came from all the executives and his smile died. 

What a boring and predictable scene , he thought.

Satoru could practically recite the thoughts going through their mind. These geezers really have the depth of a piece of toilet paper.

“Usually, you would have been condemned for your reckless disobedience but this time, well done,” said the executive opposite him. “The Hama clan’s weapon is finally in the right place, under our jurisdiction.”

A low chuckle came from Satoru. He locked eyes with the executive’s figure on the screen as he spoke.

“I think you heard me wrong. The loyalty was pledged to me .”

He didn’t expect they would have to take a second to process the information. Senility really showed when you reached a certain age. He made a mental note to busy himself later in life so he wouldn’t lose his edge. Worst thing he could be was slow, like these geezers.

“Do you know what you’re suggesting, Gojo?”

He grinned, “Do you?”

“You!” the executive to his right slammed his fist. “How dare you! This is direct defiance–”

“Shouldn’t you have thought things through first when dealing with a member of the Hama clan?” Satoru interjected. “Wasn’t that what the previous generations did? I distinctly remember that little nugget from the elders of my clan.”

He lowered his voice and put his hand over Yane’s ear so the noise wouldn’t wake her though that was likely unnecessary given her condition. It might be best to bring her back to the dorm so Maki and the others could look after her. Shoko would be a good addition as well, but considering this was something Hama-related, her support might be limited. Still, it was worth trying.

“In any case,” he said. “Now that she was indirectly a part of the Gojo clan, if she is to die under suspicious circumstances, the consequences will directly involve me as well. You know how the Hamas operates, yes? And I’m sure you’re aware what might occur were something bad to happen to me. Jujutsu-world-wise and Gojo-clan-wise.”

“Don’t think you can get away with this, Satoru Gojo.”

Satoru turned to the exit. He glared back to the screens where the useless idiots were sitting like shadows casted by candle lights. 

“I don’t. I’m putting my life on the line here. I assume anyone who wants to involve themselves in this arrangement would be prepared to do the same. That’s only fair. Wouldn’t you say?”

Stepping out and descending from the staircase, he made for the dormitory. Yane was feverish. He had expected the consequences somewhat, but Yahiro must be thrashing against the oath since her fever was getting worse by the minute.

Still, Satoru shook himself off any sliver of pity. It was her choice, like it was his choice. The best he could do now would be to make sure she recovered and built her up to withstand the battle waging within her.

Satoru fished out his phone and went through his contact, initiating the call. He spoke before Shoko could utter a grumble.

“Shoko? Mind heading over to the first-year dorm right now?”

“What time do you think it is?”

“Three A.M?” he humoured her.

“I’m not asking for the actual time, Gojo.”

“I know,” he said. “And you totally don’t have to take this–”

“Is it urgent?”

“Maybe?” Satoru launched himself towards the dorm entrance. “If you consider ‘my student possibly dying based on your arrival time’ urgent.”

“Toge, get another cold towel!” Maki barked.

Her eyes were trained on the limp body on the bed. 

Yane, at first look, seemed as though suffering from nothing more than a cold. But she had been fighting to breathe ever since Gojo rushed her back to them. Her chest rose and fell in exaggerated movements, her mouth constantly opened and closed as if to swallow up as much air as she could.

“Shit! Her fever isn’t going down!”

Toge rushed out of Yane’s room and back into his, digging out another cold towel from his fridge. They had switched from cold water to freezer-cooled towels the second Yane’s temperature spiked.

He ran back into the room, passing the towel to Maki, his hands red from the cold. 

Yane’s room was freezing from the winter air coming through the window. They were forced to open it in hope of lowering her fever somewhat, but whenever they thought the fever had been controlled, it spiked up again.

Yane was flushing and sweating as she clutched onto the blanket. Her face contorted in pain. Sometimes he could see her open her eyes, the shimmering, honey-like light brown of her pupils now dulled in the moonlight as she wrestled with her ailment.

Toge clenched his fists as he stepped towards her. It felt like his chest was collapsing on his heart. 

He could help her. 

But what if it doesn’t work?, a small voice said at the back of his mind. What if you hurt her?

There was no other way. It had been an hour. 

Help was coming, Gojo had said; but help had been an hour late and counting.

Toge pulled down his scarf and inhaled, channelling his cursed energy. Something hot gripped at his wrist, startling him out of his focus.

“No,” Yane croaked. 

Her dazed but pleading eyes were on him. Her lips trembled as if there were more to say but the pain took over and she coughed, returning to her fight for more oxygen.

Toge stood, fingers dug into his palms as he watched her. Even when she had barely made a sound with her plea, he could still hear the desperation in it. 

What else could they do at this point? Sat and watched her continue to suffer?

Hurried footsteps echoed from below before a woman, out-of-breath and clearly just out of her pyjamas, barged into the room, pushing them out of her way.

“Gojo, you–” Ieiri knelt by the bed, putting her hand over Yane’s forehead– “next time you do something stupid, tell me about it first.”

“All right,” Gojo said. He ushered the group out of the room with him, excusing himself with a dislike for being nagged.

Toge thought about resisting and staying back but once he saw their school doctor already using the Reversed Cursed Technique on Yane and Yane’s face relaxing slightly thanks to it, he relented and followed Maki and the others.

As soon as they made it to the common space, Maki cornered Gojo.

“Explain,” she spoke through gritted teeth.

Yuta was next to her, ready to catch any stray fist. Too bad for him, if Maki didn’t throw anything at Gojo, Toge would. 

From all the time he saw Yane returned injured, none of them had been this bad. None had been without reasons either.

They had nearly torn the dorm apart looking for her when they noticed she hadn’t been in the room. Hours of them calling Gojo and then Ijichi to check to no avail, then Gojo just walked in with her in his arms, battered and in pain.

Anyone would have reacted the way Maki had. Even though Yuta had held her back, it was clear he wasn’t having the best time of his life either.

“Yane-chan and I worked together to postpone her execution,” Gojo said.

Toge’s blood chilled from the information. Execution wasn’t a rare occurrence in the jujutsu world. Most of what sorcerers dealt with were dangerous. Removal and extermination of certain individuals or tools were necessary for the safety of the majority.

Until that certain individual was Yane.

Yuta’s expression darkened.

“What do you mean, Gojo-sensei? What execution?”

Gojo pushed his hair back as he spoke.

“Yane-chan’s ancestor took over her body and attacked me.”

“Take over? Like a possession?” Panda pressed.

“That would be the closest thing to it.”

Gojo moved to the kotatsu and Yuta moved away from Maki once she looked a little less ready to haul a punch at Gojo’s face. 

They sat opposite to him on one side, waiting for information. Gojo continued the explanation, his voice was cold and if Toge were to guess, angry.

“The higher-ups made their decision. It was either I kill her tonight to get rid of the threat or someone else would. Lots of things that set them off lately.” Yuta’s face darkened when Gojo looked at him. “Hence, Yane-chan made a choice.”

Maki slammed her fist into the table, startling Yuta. Her eyes were on Gojo, glaring at him as if he was a sinner.

“Stop talking in riddles. Since when was killing her a part of all this?”

“Since the beginning,” said Gojo. “It was never off the table. Don’t tell me you thought differently?”

He stared them down, challenging their attitude.

Maki crossed her arms, “So, you and Yane just decided this on your own?”

“As opposed to what?” Gojo shrugged.  “Chatting over coffee?”

Maki growled, “You know what I meant. Why is she fighting this all on her own? We’re here.”

“Maki, you’re not a Hama,” Gojo said. “Just as she’s not a Zen’in.”

Maki drew back, frustrated but stayed quiet as Gojo spoke.

“This is beyond any of you. She’s fighting on her own because it’s her battle. It’s not something that outsiders should meddle  with–”

“Unless they’re you,” Ieiri appeared in the corridor behind them. 

She had barely made a sound while she snuck up on their conversation. 

Shoko pulled out a pack of cigarettes and clipped one in between her lips. 

“What exactly did you two do for her to end up in that state, Gojo?”

Gojo signalled her to put away her smoke before he answered.

“It’s something specially used by the Hama clan called a Blood Oath. Binding her and I by blood… and soul”

Ieiri sighed, “That would explain why some of your cursed energy is battling it out in her body right now. Hence the fever. Her body is trying to assimilate your cursed energy at a speed that’s burdening her.”

Gojo frowned.

“Don’t treat me like I’m some kind of virus. If anything, I’m the vaccine and that ancestor of her is the virus. Besides, it would keep the higher-ups from messing with Yane-chan long enough for her to find a more fitting solution. I’m her insurance. As long as I’m alive, Yane-chan will be okay.”

“Right. Well done,” Ieiri clapped; each tap a listless, sarcastic sound echoed through the quiet house. “But Gojo, you’re not looking so pleased for doing such a good job, aren’t you?”

Toge studied Gojo. He could barely see any difference in his expression but granted, none of them had known him long enough for that level of observation.

It was true though. He was too calm and collected, unlike his usual rambunctious nature.

Toge waited for either of them to speak up, but Ieiri stood against the wall frame, eyes locked onto the stairs to the second floor while Gojo hung his head in silence. 

When he finally spoke, there was a defeated smile on his lips.

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice, and it wasn’t supposed to even be an option.”

There was a bitterness in his tone.

Toge bit the inside of his cheeks. Of course. The teacher he had been used to was someone who was capable enough to act recklessly and cheerfully all the time. The Satoru Gojo he saw right now was nothing close to it. He was introspective and tired even, like the consequences of this oath between him and Yane had been just as heavy on him as it had been on her.

When Gojo raised his head, he said, “Right now, Yane-chan is probably doing her utmost to work it out, so Shoko, I need you to help her with that. She just needs time to get used to it. I promised her that I’d help.”

Ieiri lifted her face as if to release vapour from a cigarette she didn’t get the chance to smoke.

“Well, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve dealt with your bullshit.” 

She looked over to Gojo with meaningfully sad eyes. 

“She’s stable for now. Just watch her temperature and let her rest. I prescribed her some medicine, so, get Ijichi to pick it up once he came into work or something.”

There was a heavy pause.

“Essentially, your incompatible energy was breaking her apart so I did what I could to hold her together until her body could sort itself out and adapt. Think of it like Kintsugi.”

Gojo chuckled, dry as a bark.

“At least your explanation got a little better over the years.”

“Shut up,” Ieiri spat. “It’s been ten years. Of course, it would.”

She pointed to Toge and the others.

“Make sure that at least one of you is with her if possible. Just in case anything goes wrong. If her fever doesn’t drop over the next two days, let me know. Otherwise, it should be fine.”

Toge nodded and stood up first, leaving for Yane’s room. 

His thoughts had been everywhere after the battle with Geto, especially when he saw the amount of blood on Yane’s clothes. She had been the last of them to stand against Geto before Yuta arrived. 

Toge remembered the way she looked when she pushed him and Panda away from Geto’s attack. He thought he had seen fire in her eyes, blazing with unfamiliar and feral brutality.  And he had remembered thinking he never wanted to see such pure hatred on her face ever again.

Neither did he want to lie helpless on the ground, slipping in and out of consciousness when he saw Yane fell like discarded garbage from Geto’s hand.

Toge entered the room, found Yane deep in her sleep and checked the towel. It hadn’t lost its cool temperature yet, so that was a good sign.

He took a seat on the floor next to Yane’s bed and watched in relief when it seemed like she had an easier time breathing. She was no longer struggling despite his fear– their fear–of her slipping away from them without knowing why.

Toge buried his face in his arms.

He had almost used his cursed speech on her. Granted, he was desperate to make it better for Yane, but had it gone wrong, Toge probably wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. 

He didn’t know if she hadn’t wanted his help, or if she had feared what would become of him should the intended effect turn out abysmal, but he was glad she had stopped him.

There was a moment of hesitation when Toge saw her hand peeking out from under the blanket.

He slipped his hand into hers, surprised how it made him both calm and nervous at the same time. The lingering heat of her fever was present but significantly less worrisome compared to the phantom burn on his wrist when she grabbed it to stop him.

Toge leaned back against the bedside table, eyes closed. He exhaled and rested his head on the edge of the mattress. Once the stress and anxiety wore off, his body became heavy and lethargic.

He held onto Yane’s hand as he drifted off to sleep, not wanting to let it go.

It didn’t matter anymore. 

His family’s reaction, other sorcerers’ opinion, traditions, consequences, none of those matter to him right now. Toge didn’t want to lie or wait.

There was never a good time. There was never going to be a day when Yane worked hard enough, and people would change the way they think about her. Not all of them would. And if Toge continued to debate about good timing or acceptance, he might lose her one day and this feeling, uncertain or not, would haunt him like sun showers.

We don’t have to ask for understanding , he reminded himself. We can just live unapologetically.

Growing up with cursed speech, Toge didn’t think he would ever feel that way, but if his friends and Yane had taught him anything, then it would be to distinguish between responsibility and guilt.

If she couldn’t treat herself with kindness , he thought, holding on to her hand tighter. I could just teach her how.

Chapter Text

After Shoko had left, Yuta was the first to take the next turn looking after Yane. Maki and Panda were put on a mission came morning, and Yuta received news that he was to be temporarily stationed back at school until the executives figured out what to do with him after the mess involving Suguru Geto.

Yuta was no longer a Special Grade sorcerer. Neither a threat nor useful to the people in power. A curse and a blessing at the same time. Maybe that was why they had turned their blade towards Yane instead of him.

Simply because they didn’t know what to do with him. Yet.

It was never great to be stuck in bureaucratic limbo while one’s peers were out there fighting dangerous curses, but the temporary suspension of duty also meant he had more time to take care of Yane. As far as Yuta was concerned, for now, she very much needed a pair of vigilant eyes over her.

He waited for Toge to leave before he pulled up the chair and sat by her bed.

Yane looked so peaceful in her sleep that it was difficult to think she had been absolutely taken by pain just a few hours back. It was testament to Ieiri’s Reversed Cursed Technique skill. Part of Yuta wanted to be able to do that and before Geto, he probably could.

But not anymore.

Not unless he relearned everything, and Yuta planned to relearn everything. He was finally getting the hang of this. He finally felt like he found his purpose–something only he could do, a place where he could belong, people he could call his circle–Yuta wasn’t ready to let them slip from his hands just yet.

With a literal execution on Yane’s head, reality came crashing back on him. 

He and Yane, they really were just chess pieces on a bigger table. Unless they got down from the table, others would continue to dictate the direction of their lives. Yuta didn’t need that. He didn’t want that for Yane either. 

To move away from this game neither of them signed up to play, they would need to be strong enough to fight back anyone who tried to prove the opposite.

He smiled at her, befuddled by how she always felt younger in his mind despite being of the same age.

Maybe it was the combination of her upbringing (or lack of it) and the fact that Yuta himself had a sister but he couldn’t help feeling protective of Yane. Not that he didn’t believe she couldn’t keep herself safe. Quite the contrary. Maki was an excellent combat teacher and coupled with Yane’s ability as a sorcerer, his worries were almost unfounded.

Call it familial instinct, or kinship between two people with death sentences pinned on them.

Whichever it was, it wouldn’t have changed the undeniable fact that Yuta would never rest easy knowing Yane might be in danger. He would always be going to worry, and to him, Yane was always going to be his other sister–his family.

“I won’t let them touch you,” Yuta whispered.

Losing Rika once was horrible. Losing her a second time along with his connection to his biological family because of his responsibility as a sorcerer was something Yuta might never get over. Jujutsu High had given him a second home. But it was also under the jurisdiction of the same people who were threatening it.

That didn’t sit well with him.

It didn’t, indeed.

I have to be stronger , Yuta told himself. Even more than I was before.

Special Grade didn’t have an actual measurement of ability between sorcerers who shared the title. Yuta was definitely no Satoru Gojo, but that didn’t mean the person he was today couldn’t train to be stronger than the one he had been yesterday.

The further he aimed, the further he could go. If he aimed for the strongest sorcerer alive, maybe one day Yuta would reach somewhere close enough to fool people into thinking he was about just behind Gojo. Then, maybe they would think twice about messing with him and people in his life.

He wasn’t going to allow anyone to trample over them anymore. Even if that meant his blade might be pointed at an executive throat somewhere along the line.

Yuta was certain he wouldn’t be the only one thinking that way either. If any of the others were ready to drop Yane, they wouldn’t be giving Gojo so much trouble over her current state in the first place.

Especially Maki and Toge.

He was highly suspicious the former might physically maim someone if they so much looked at Yane wrong. She hadn’t seemed to care about Gojo’s infamy since her fist was hot and ready after Yane returned to them, practically knocking on death’s door.

Toge… hadn’t reacted the way Yuta had expected.

His grievances were certainly warranted given Yane’s situation and the secretive nature of Gojo’s patch-work solution. As caring and sensitive as Toge was, it must have been difficult to see someone he cared about turning out like that not even a full day after she had just escaped death’s clutch.

If that hand of his in Yane’s was any indication, Yuta assumed Yane’s feelings weren’t unrequited.

Which meant he must have been queuing just behind Maki with his own punch in store for Gojo.

But all his anger had somehow translated into subdued exhaustion. Even though the sweet gesture had put a smile on Yuta’s face when he saw their linking hands, it also gave him an inkling of what Toge might have felt when he saw Yane struggling.

And he was glad that last night, his friend didn’t have to experience the same fear and pain Yuta went through years back as a boy standing frozen on the sidewalk.

No one should have to go through that. Especially these two.

But soon enough Yuta would return to duty, and it would be more difficult to make sure Yane was safe. He trusted Gojo, but in the end, they were all sorcerers who went where they were told to and exorcised what they were put in front of, which wasn’t an ideal position.

Unless there was a change from the executive level, nothing else would change either.

Yuta sighed.

This was getting much bigger and more complicated than he thought. There wasn’t much he could do at the moment either.

The realization made him blue and he sat back until a phone call came from Maki.

“Hello?” he answered.

“How is she?”

Yuta chuckled through his nose, “She’s fine. Her temperature is normal. How’s your mission?”

“Done,” informed Maki. “Wasn’t a strong cursed spirit. We’re both uninjured.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’m at the convenience store right now, you’d reckon Yane might need some Pocari Sweat when she wakes up?”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” Yuta said. “You two are coming back after this?”

There was a muffled thud on Maki’s side which reminded him of the sound a fridge’s door would make when it slammed against the frame.

“Pretty much,” Maki hummed. “Need anything? Snacks?”

“We might want to restock the rice crackers. I heard they’re putting out the plum-flavoured ones now. Those might be nice to try together.”

Plastic wraps rustled over the phone.

“Yeah, got ‘em,” said Maki. “All right. We’ll be back in about fifteen. Panda said he’d switch out with you when we’re back.”

Yuta’s heart swelled at her words.

“Great,” he said, slightly hesitant to ask when Maki was coming back fresh from a mission. “Maki?”

“Yep?”

Yuta cleared his throat, “Would you er–would you mind sparring with me for a bit when you’re back. I mean, after you had some rest of course.”

“Rest?” Maki was practically cracking up on the other side. Yuta instinctively straightened his back when he heard her tone drop lower with muted excitement. Usually when this happened, he would be in for a no-break, five-hour, technical training.

“I don’t want to burden–”

“Please,” said Maki. “That cursed spirit was barely even an exercise. Start warming-up. You’re in for a long training after this.”

For a while after the call fell off, Yuta sat in deep self-reflection. 

He… might have volunteered for something way over his head.

When Yuta had woken Toge up with an understanding smile and a gentle suggestion to take over, Toge had agreed without complaint. He had only given Yuta a look in return for the meaningful look from his friend but nothing else.

Toge let go of Yane’s hand and stood. His body was sore all over, no doubt from his rather poor choice of where to sleep. It was worth it though. He would have been the first to know if Yane had woken up, the first to be there when she needed someone around her.

Toge never thought of himself as an overtly competitive or possessive person but things changed in regards to Yane. Growing up he learned to let go of certain things fairly quickly. The faster one adapted to their environment, the more time they would have to explore and make use of said environment.

Fixating on something he couldn’t have was the first thing Toge let go. Expectation was the second.

Which was why he admired what his parents had. Always in their own world. Always happy, confident, and purposeful. Always shining. Always resilient.

They were powerful, and they had each other. His father never said much but the way he looked at mother when it was just the three of them spoke volumes of the way father felt about her. Mother always said while Toge was growing up that she worried. She was vocal about the importance of change because his clan was running itself too close to the edge by cherry-picking alliances in the wrong basket.

Toge always listened but never fully wanted to know. Maybe he had deluded himself into thinking that he would never have to one day take over for her, or maybe it was wishful thinking that his mother would select someone just as capable as she was for his marriage. It was easy, but it was lazy.

He didn’t want to fight tooth and nail with the elders. There was no evidence to suggest he was capable of putting up any sort of fight since he had let half of the politics go in one ear and out the other.

But that was before Toge found himself in this situation.

Now, he regretted not listening a little bit more carefully when his mother had spoken. Now, he regretted not observing his father a little bit closer to learn how he protected and cared for his mother the way that only he could do.

There were more that Toge could have done, people he could have consulted in, and more he could have helped change.

His mother was the first. She stood on her feet and carved out a place in his father’s clan as his life-long partner. She needn’t ask for permission to be, she simply just was.

Toge chuckled. No wonder he was so fond of Yane.

Her stubbornness probably rivalled only that of his mother.

But Yane wasn’t his mother and Toge wasn’t his father, so, in the end, they would have to figure out a way that would work for the both of them. It might be harder, it might be easier, but it will be different, and it would have to be the result of them putting their heads together.

To do that, he would need to know what each of them want. He assumed he knew Yane’s wishes but just like she didn’t know how he was feeling, Toge couldn’t say he knew what she kept in her heart either. There was no lack of instances when people only found out each other’s real intentions years after they were together.

Some of those instances hadn’t ended too well.

I’ll let her know how I feel first , he thought, stepping inside his room to get ready for the day. Then, consult mother on what’s next.

After a long shower, Toge made some food for Yuta and Yane. Both of them could use the nutrition. It hadn’t exactly been a few good, relaxing hours for those two, and now that the former could have a bit of time to get his bearings, it was Toge’s hope that he could provide his friends with the security and care often missing from their line of work.

Once he passed the food to Yuta and a mission call was issued, Toge left, only returning later that night. 

Worn by the trip and drained by the use of his cursed speech, he recalled the throat medicine Yane had handed him during their fight with Geto.

Thanks to it Toge was able to hold on for a bit longer, recovered a bit faster even though the result had remained the same. It was an unfamiliar but good thing to know Yane was watching him and that she knew how to help him fight. She must have paid attention to the whole group as well, but Toge hadn’t felt the full extent of her preparation to support each of them until the moment she handed him that glass bottle.

Sorcerers, Toge especially, often grew into capable fighters who could hold their own in single combat. But with that, some forgot how to receive help from others. And it was a pleasant reminder when he saw the genuine concern in Yane’s eyes that he hadn’t been alone. None of them would be. 

In the midst of the battle, Toge had felt safe. Because she had been there. Because he knew she would be there as long as they all needed her to be.

He dropped by Yane’s room before his own and waved at Panda when his friend noticed him entering. 

He returned the greeting and carefully placed a single flower he had picked up from the florist on his way back on her bedside table. It was the same place from which Yane had gotten the bouquet for them. It felt right. She was fond of flowers after all.

Ijichi had entrusted him with the delivery of promotion paperwork to pass on to her. After Geto, it seemed they had all proven themselves ready for tougher missions. Not that Gojo hadn’t already reflected that in his delegation for them.

Toge decided against giving Yane the paperwork for now. 

Not just yet , he told himself. It isn’t something to just leave on the table. Not for her.

Yane was asleep still, but her complexion had gotten better. She looked healthier, no longer sleeping to preserve energy for her assimilation of foreign cursed energy, but hibernating to heal from the damage her body had undergone.

“She woke up and ate the porridge,” Panda informed when Toge caught sight of the empty bowl on the table.

His body relaxed at the news. Up and eating was a good sign.

Toge mumbled an affirmation to Panda before taking the bowl and retreating to his room for some shuteye. It wasn’t just Yuta and Yane. They had all needed a long, undisturbed rest.

Yane’s temperature had been stable compared to the day before so, after he washed the bowl and got himself to bed, Toge allowed the exhaustion to take over until his alarm rang.

-0-

When the second day’s morning came, Toge startled awake to the glaring sun rays in his eyes.

Must have forgotten to close the curtains , he thought gingerly and rose.

Toge made his way over to Yane’s room, peeking his head in when he noticed the door was left ajar. Maki was sleeping on the floor, face turning to the entrance as if to brace for intruders. Sometimes during the night, she must have switched over for Panda even though the latter didn’t actually need an excessive amount of sleep to function.

Like the rest of them, Maki must have also felt anxious.

Toge let out a soft sigh.

He didn’t want to think about how Maki must have felt when she looked at Yane. Other than Yuta and Panda, she was the next one in the group with a sibling. Mai Zen’in was the same age as Maki so it made sense to Toge that the way Maki looked at Yane might have been influenced.

Whatever she felt about her clan, it was evident to him that Maki didn’t hate Mai in the least. Toge didn’t pry but he inferred enough to know that the loneliness Maki showed in her gaze towards Yane wasn’t meant for Yane at all. Her arrival had stirred up emotions Maki must have been keeping close.

Sometimes Toge thought it was unfair for her to look at Yane that way, not the person within but a person of whom she was reminded. But who was he to point fingers? Rapport was built with familiarity and no matter how much they all tried to deny it, Yane appeared to them like a part of themselves they had pushed to the last place of their priority list.

Toge was sure, however, that if he were to ask Maki now how she saw Yane, or anyone else for that matter, none of them would have compared Yane to someone they knew. To them, she was now just Yane. She was her own person.

It was time he and the others treated her as one.  

Maki must have felt Toge’s presence. She sat up and waved for him to enter.

“Her fever is gone but we’re letting her rest. She’s still slightly out of it whenever she’s up though,” Maki said.

Toge nodded and placed his hand over Yane’s forehead. He hadn’t doubted Maki’s words. Simply, he just wanted to convince himself of how much better Yane had gotten.

The flower he left on her bedside table had been put into Gojo’s cup, its red petals opened proudly in the sunlight.

“You and Yane,” Maki said from the futon. “What do you plan to do about it?”

Toge turned to her, lifting his left eyebrow, and Maki held her hands up with a sigh.

“I’m not trying to interfere or anything like that.” She lowered her hands. “Yane woke up once last night when I changed with Panda, and she kept staring at the flower for a while.”

His heart raced at Maki’s words.

“Then she turned to me and asked who got the flower,” she said.

And what was your answer? , Toge wanted to ask. Either he was too obvious about it, or Maki had read his mind because she answered before he could say anything.

“I said you did.”

“Tuna mayo,” he said, urging her to continue.

“Well, she didn’t say anything else. Just seem lost in thought.” Maki puffed the pillow and placed it on the folded blankets. “In any case, if you don’t have a mission today, you should talk to her. I’m not sure how it would end but better to let it out than keep this weird awkward tension, right?”

She tapped his shoulder.

“Might not be my place, Toge, but seems like Yane has a lot on her mind. She looked like she was thinking a million things all at once. I don’t think that’s a usual reaction to a flower. Talk to her.”

Maki exited, leaving Toge in the room.

He was halfway to sitting down and making himself comfortable when he heard:

“Oh, but if you try anything funny with Yane when she’s sleeping, I’m going to punch your light out, okay?”

Toge snapped around at the sound, heart beating like crazy in his chest. Maki peeked over the door frame, fashioning a wicked grin on her.

“Fish flakes!” he protested; ears warm from the embarrassment.

“Toge…” 

Her voice softened and Toge sighed. He had only seen that look on her face whenever she talked to Yane. Maki wasn’t an outwardly gentle creature by any means. Tough as a nail, that girl, and a force to be reckoned with if one wasn’t careful. But she was kind in her own right, and she tried to show it despite repeated failed attempts.

It usually took a while. Yuta knew this. Yane would too, and so did Toge.

She wouldn’t pry or do anything she didn’t want or expected to be done to her, so the warm and encouraging gaze Maki was sending threw Toge off balance. 

Never in his life would he think to see her behaving in such a way. It was most likely not because Toge had needed it. Rather, it would be because Maki, like anyone in their group of friends, was also looking for that rarity in their lives.

“Good luck,” she said.

Toge nodded and smiled, “Salmon.”

He stayed, quietly going through his YouTube Watch later list with one wireless earphone, only leaving his spot to make himself food. Even then, he brought the ingredients back to Yane’s room and cooked enough for the both of them in case she woke up and felt hungry.

Homework would have been the sensible choice, but so was salt in rolled eggs and yet, sweet egg rolls existed.

Yane woke around sunset. First, she seemed slightly disoriented from the dark room, but she quickly regained her composure. 

Their group had blacked out the room with curtains so she could sleep any time. Yane needed the rest and Toge read somewhere that for those who had overcome high fever, it was best to keep sensory input lower until their body could assimilate to the exhaustion and recover.

He was alone in the room with Yane all day. Panda and Maki were out on a mission and Yuta had gone to meet Gojo.

“Mustard leaf,” Toge said, turning off his earphone and returning his phone to his pocket.

He rose and searched for the light switch, feeling around the wall by the sliding door separating the bedroom and Yane’s kitchen. They really should gift her a table lamp on her birthday. Her room’s décor was different from his so manoeuvring through it in the dark took a bit of getting used to.

He heard rustling from the bed.

“Inumaki-kun, do you like me?”

Toge froze. His hand stopped on the switch he had finally found. His head was blank.

He had somewhat prepared for a conversation with her about this, but he didn’t expect Yane to be so straight-forward about the topic so early on either. His plan was to wait and let her get better. This didn’t seem like a conversation to have while she was still sick.

From Toge’s observation, she wasn’t the type to be so direct. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have kept her feelings secret from him for all this time.

Was it the fever?

He let out a breath and willed the crazy speed of his heart to slow. Unprepared as he was, Toge didn’t want to lie.

“Salmon–”

“Don’t,” she cut him off. 

The room was too dark and Toge didn’t have the courage to turn around. 

He could only listen to Yane’s voice. She sounded hurt and tired. Understandable, but there was a constant unease in the way she spoke.

“I don’t like you.”

The words melt into him like snow. Cold and biting.

He could hear the shaky breath coming from her direction. There was no proof. Toge knew there was no proof for him to conclude that Yane liked him. Even that confession he had heard could have been his own imagination.

There was truly no proof. The only thing that had been cleared between them was how he had felt, and he knew Yane was aware. He made her aware.

But was it truly his own greed this time to doubt Yane was truthful when she said their feelings weren’t mutual? 

“Tuna,” he said. “Mustard leaf.”

“I’m not lying,” her voice broke. “What would I even get out of it? It’s not going to be a good relationship. It’ll be stressful. It won’t go anywhere. Why would I want that kind of relationship?”

Toge gritted his teeth as he listened. 

Yane wasn’t this kind of person. 

She wasn’t someone who would say such awful things to anyone. 

He knew it, yet he couldn’t help but feel a weight pushing down on his chest when she spoke. No matter how scathing her words were, it sounded less a complaint about him but an attack on herself.

Why would I want that kind of relationship?

Once, Toge would have thought that too. He flipped the switch and spun around, walking over to Yane in stride.

His heart broke when he saw the way Yane was looking at him. She was crying. He hadn’t meant to make her cry.

“Tuna,” he said, brushing away the tears from her face.

Yane looked up at him, her gaze trembled. Toge had a feeling she was looking at him, deep inside of him, as if she was searching for something–a reason–anything to hold on to like an anchor for herself.

What was she looking for so desperately in him? Fear? Contempt? Love?

He couldn’t tell what was going on in her mind, but Toge knew it was a lot. The way the gap between her eyebrows crinkled, the way tears kept welling in her eyes, the way her nose blushed crimson painted in his mind the depth of her inner struggle.

It shouldn’t have been like this. This wasn’t what he wanted. Not for her. Not for them.

“Can you leave?” Yane said at last, peeling his hands off her face and looking away. “I want to rest.”

Toge let out a deep breath and flipped off the light.

What Yane needed was probably time to calm down. Just like when she just arrived, she just needed time , Toge told himself.

“Salmon,” he said, and exited.

But even when he had left, Toge knew there was no way he would be able to keep his distance and give her space as respectfully as before. Sorcerers were crooked at heart. It seemed he was no exception.

Tomorrow he would probably return even if she didn’t want to see him. And the day after that too.

And if she didn’t want to see him then he would just drop off another flower.

He, for once, had no intention of backing down from this. Gojo said it was her fight and that she had to do it herself, but the teacher stepped in to help her as well. There was no reason for Toge to refrain from it for tact either.

Yane never stopped putting herself in others’ business. It was time someone extended the same hand to her. 

Chapter Text

It was colder than usual but there was no sign of snow. 

Yuta stood like a statue in the middle of the graveyard, dressed in his newly appointed uniform. They had taken away his white jacket and given him the usual navy. The only white item on him with a messenger bag slung across his body. It was an unfamiliar sight for Yane and the reality of his demotion hung over her head like a sentence.

Yuta was forced into giving up Rika. Even though that had meant her freedom, his separation from Rika must not have been easy on him. Yane wouldn’t dare to imagine how that must have made him feel.

She learnt early on that with Rika attached to him, Yuta distanced himself from his family. But in truth, it had sounded more like he was removed from them for their own safety. Fear had hardened their feelings towards him like water turned into ice, hailing down on Yuta when support and understanding were what he needed the most.

Despite his family’s reaction, Yuta hadn’t tried even once to get rid of Rika. Given how quick the executives wanted to get rid of her as soon as they deemed her dangerous, Yane could picture the kind of treatment they must have directed towards Yuta.

Her heart ached. They were both fighting a lonely battle, but only Yuta was the calm and collected one coming out of it.  

A single bird took flight, shaking snow off the barebone branch where it had perched.

Yane watched it fly as she rested the wooden bucket on the ground and frowned at her fogged breath. It was worrisome that just getting a bucket of water for Yuta was wearing her down this much.

“I think I should be returning to training soon,” she mumbled.

Yuta took the wooden ladle and poured ice cold water over the Orimoto family gravestone.

“I think it’s still fine for you to rest a little bit more though.” 

He took a clean towel,  wiping the stone, carefully getting into the crevices of the carved letters. 

To be completely honest, Yane hadn’t expected him to take her to Rika’s grave. Touched? Sure, but surprised nonetheless.

She hadn’t known Rika as a person… or a cursed spirit for that matter. Yuta had done a great job keeping her at bay ever since Yane knew them.

Visiting someone only Yuta actually knew and loved felt like an invasion of their alone time. It was as though Yane was listening into a private conversation whenever he talked to the gravestone. Yet, something like relief had washed over her when Yuta had asked for Yane’s company.

His invitation was a good reason to avoid Inumaki. After what had happened last night, Yane trembled at the thought of seeing him again.

Even if it was for Inumaki’s sake, what she had said was harsh. She wasn’t such a heartless fool to miss the grey shade of hurt that clouded his beautiful purple eyes. 

For a split second when Yane saw the red chrysanthemum, she was happy. Over the moon even. She had wanted to grab Inumaki and demanded him to let her know she hadn’t misinterpreted the meaning of the flower.

When the joy faded because fear bloomed, Yane wanted to crush her heart so it wouldn’t waver at the sight of the chrysanthemum. A dull ache overtook her mind, true like an oath, reminding her that this fear she felt wasn’t unwarranted. Yahiro was under control, but doubts about his power remained and they should be enough to make anyone second-thought their association with her.

Worse, those doubts would put whoever stood by her side under scrutiny.

Not everyone was Satoru Gojo. Not everyone would come out of that level of dissection unscathed.

After it all , Yane thought. Maybe it wasn’t for Inumaki-kun’s sake. Maybe I just didn’t have the stomach to ask anyone for that kind of devotion.

“You don’t know how glad we were when your fever went down, Yane-san,” Yuta said suddenly.

He kept his eyes on the gravestone like a blacksmith monitoring their fire level, his hands were bushberry pink from the cold. 

“Sorry to make you worry.” Yane tried to smile. “I’m feeling better now.”

As soon as he registered her words, Yuta’s hand stopped and he looked over. There was a fleeting brush of disapproval in his eyes.

“You know… Rather than sorry, something like  ‘thank you for taking care of me’ might be a little bit nicer to hear.”

Yane stared at him. A cluster of unexplainable heaviness in her chest closed its grip on her heart. 

Yuta sounded no different from his usual tone but there was something just unnatural enough about his demeanours to cast doubts over his words being nothing more than a friendly advice.

He wasn’t the same boy who visited her in the hospital despite the kind and gentle aura he emitted. But the look in his eyes convinced Yane that he was the same person who held the door so she could exit first, who checked on her after each of her mission, who presented the dinner menu to her like she was in an expensive restaurant, and who, despite knowing the danger that came along with Yane stuck with her.

He and Maki, and Panda, and Inumaki.

Why did they choose this side when the other had greener grass?

Yane crossed her arms and stared at the ground. 

“Why do you guys treat me like nothing has happened?”

“Do you want us to treat you differently then?” Yuta said. 

He had his back to her as he scooped another ladle-full of water, dowsing it over the stone.

Yane shook her head.

“That’s not it but…”

Her words dried out as she thought about what to say. 

What was the alternative? Asking them to distance themselves? Be cautious of her? Hate her? Fear her?

All of that made Yane feel as though she wanted to die because if she did then they would be free to live their lives. She would be free from wondering if there would be a future where she might put them in danger, where she was the danger.

Had they known no fear? 

Had their sense of safety and self-preservation become twisted by this world?

Or was this result brought upon by her?

Had they decided she was just as important to them as they were to her?

If so then it was already too late.

It would be unfair to expect their relationship to stay the same way. Yane wasn’t entitled to anything. She hadn’t done anything. Yuta and the others shouldn’t have to see her in the same manner because Yane hadn’t even been able to when she saw herself in the mirror that morning.

There was more to consider now.

Everyone treating her like nothing had happened might have been out of the kindness in their heart, but soon that kindness would fade into obligation before it deteriorated into bindings. Happiness broke easily, and when it did, its touches drew blood.

Yane would die before her existence turned into a curse for these people. 

“Yane-san,” Yuta called.

She looked up to meet his eyes, startled by the reassuring smile he wore. It was as though Yane stepped into a spot graced by sunlight in the freezing winter.

“We’re all aware we have some thinking to do,” he wriggled the wet towel dry and moved onto his next task: removing the wilted flowers. “But we don’t attack people for something we didn’t understand or experience. Not in this house.”

He replaced the flower and filled the bottle with water, methodical like it was his crafts.

“That said, there is something I’d like to say–” his gaze fell on her, stern and unyielding– “about you and Inumaki-kun.”

Yane flinched. 

Realisation dawned on her. 

Yuta didn’t bring her here simply because he needed help or to give her a change of scenery. Not entirely anyway. What Yuta wanted was a conversation, and with that the uncertainty cleared up for the difference Yane sensed about him.

Yuta was upset, and rightfully so. His friend had just been chased away by the same person who had come to him for relationship advice. He must have felt shocked and betrayed.

“I’ll admit what I said was bad,” Yane spoke before Yuta could. “But I was hoping you would see where I came from. I don’t want to waste his time. Objectively speaking, I can’t make him happy.”

Yuta didn’t reply and Yane didn’t know if she liked his polite silence. She could tell he wanted to say something, but he was holding those words back, out of respect for something Yane didn’t understand.

Nevertheless, she continued:

“Like it or not I am from the Hama clan. Not to mention I’m bound to Gojo-sensei by a Blood Oath and I’m a cursed tool with an execution…”

Yane trailed off and stopped. 

Every word coming out of her mouth mutated into excuses–ones that she knew Inumaki wouldn’t be shaken by in the least, ones she used to look away from the worst-case-scenario yet to come.

Inumaki was kind. But indulging in that kindness without giving back something better felt wrong. She would be exploiting him, and that was the last thing Yane ever wanted to do to someone who deserved a partner who could stay with him and not get in his way. 

Or at the very least, someone without a literal sentence hanging above their head. Someone free.

That someone didn’t sound like her.

She didn’t regret her choice to take the Blood Oath, but it was a different story when it involved Inumaki.

Yane knew from the bottom of her heart how Inumaki would treat his future family. She, on the other hand, never had one. Nor did she know how to build one. 

“Why would he want that kind of future?” Yane spat.

Why would anyone in their right mind want that much problems?

Yuta walked to her, and she waited for him to speak but instead he held up his hand. Yane saw a shadow of his finger before pain pricked the skin of her forehead and she staggered backwards.

“Did–” she gaped at Yuta– “Did you just flick my forehead?”

“Rather than choosing ‘that kind of future’,” he ignored her inquisitive accusation.

The thin layer of stone cold anger on him dissipated into a rueful smile.

“I think Inumaki-kun just chose you.”

Yane frowned, “I don’t want to give him any regrets.”

Yuta mirrored her. 

“Between the two of you, Yane-san. I don’t think he’s the one afraid of regretting it,” he said, looking at Rika's grave. “I don’t know what Inumaki-kun had in mind about the two of you. Neither can I claim we have the same baggage, but at the very least, I can say this.”

He touched the glossy gravestone like it was made of feathers.

“I will always regret turning Rika into a cursed spirit, but I will never regret loving her.”

He gestured for Yane to come over to Rika’s grave as he lit two incense sticks and placed them on the holder. 

Yuta was slightly taller compared to when Yane first met him. She wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t had to crouch a little so he wouldn’t hurt his back leaning down.

“I know I’m involving myself in something that isn’t any of my business,” he put his hands together and spoke. “But I think of you and Inumaki-kun as dear friends. I want you both to not get hurt, and I hate it even more if you guys hurt each other. This is me being nosy because my friend is being stupid. I hope you'll forgive me.”

Yane hung her head.

“I’m not trying to hurt him.”

“I know,” Yuta sighed. “But sometimes, we might still bring pain to those we love.”

Yane looked up at him, reminded of Yuta’s tears when Rika had finally been free of their curse. He must have cried so much that night as well and she hadn’t been there to comfort him.

The realisation stuck with her like a thorn in her throat. Yane didn’t want to think about it but Yuta had, in a way, kept Rika with him against the natural course of things. Normally, that should have warranted a great deal of penalty. But none of those might have been as heavy for him as the knowledge of his own guilt.

And Yuta too saw it as him causing pain for Rika, and subsequently those around him. But what about Rika? Had she resented him for shackling her to a realm which was no longer her home?

It certainly hadn’t looked that way.

When Rika had left, she had left with a smile.

What they shared was a painful love, but not a regrettable one, and Yane found them so much more admirable for it. They had loved with the entirety of their hearts. Even when they were unintentionally causing each other pain and discomfort, they never once denied their love for each other or regret giving that love to each other.

In the end, it was that exact love which had saved them. Yuta, walking away alive; Rika, finally moved on knowing someone important to her had people who cared about him and appreciated him.

Maybe that was all there was to this. It wasn’t as complicated or muddled as Yane had made it out to be. No more than loving whoever she wanted to love and fighting to make sure that love would keep her and Inumaki alive.

Love to protect each other.

Yane liked that. She wanted that–the pure kind of love that Yuta had with Rika.

This whole time she was making herself up to be someone responsible, who was willing to make the necessary sacrifice for hers and Inamki’s sake but the truth was she never actually considered his feelings. Her fear had taken over and what was supposed to be a long, private talk had turned into an interrogation and violent rejection.

The thick, grimy heaviness in her mind lifted, leaving only the unbearable burn of embarrassment. She had been so tunnel-visioned about how bad the relationship would be to consider how to make that relationship work.

An actual conversation was due. A proper one where she and Inumaki could talk it out, give it a thought before they decided what to do about their situation.

It wouldn’t have been possible if Yuta hadn’t helped her. Once again, she had brought him trouble.

“I’m–” Yane changed the words, her forehead still aching from the flick. “Thank you, Yuta-kun.”

“It’s my pleasure.” 

Yuta put his hands together and Yane followed him, giving a silent ‘thanks’ to Rika as well. They never got to meet but Rika would have been a great person to befriend.

Her thoughts strayed to Tsumiki, then to Megumi. 

Yane had missed death by a hairstrand and lived another day to build something with the two of them as well. 

Courage swelled within her. 

Of course. If she had survived what could have easily been her last day alive, there shouldn’t be much to fear or regret because tomorrow another Suguru Geto might come knocking at the school’s doors and anything she hesitated to do today might be lost forever.

That would be regretful. 

She told herself to give Megumi a call to wish him and Tsumiki a happy new year later.

Yane finished up with her prayer and checked the watch. They could make great time for the next bus back to the dorm. Maybe Yuta would be willing to teach her a few things about swordsmanship.

“Also,” Yuta spoke suddenly, drawing Yane’s attention. 

He was the opposite of the confident, outspoken Yuta just moments prior, returning to his usual demeanours. Sometimes, when he was really nervous about what he wanted to say, Yuta would sound like someone was punching him in the throat mid-sentence.

One of those times was now.

Yane waited patiently for him to find his words. She hadn’t known she wouldn’t like what he had to say.

“I’ve already told the others,” Yuta started, “but I’ll leave the country once the New Year celebration ends.”

Yane blurted, “Huh?”

The words swirled in her mind like alphabet soup and rang like glass smashed on the ground.

Her arms fell to her side, thoughts spiralling as she tried to process what Yuta had said.

“What do you mean?” she took hold of his shoulders, shaking him back and forth. “Where are you going? What do you mean leaving? Are you leaving for good?”

“Yane-san,” Yuta pleaded. “Yane-san, stop. You’re making me dizzy.”

She let go, falling two steps backward. 

“No,” Yane said, still struggling to decide if it was anger or woe spreading through her body.

Perhaps both. Both fighting for control of her emotions.

If Yuta left after the New Year celebration, then that would be less than a week, which was not remotely enough time for them to spend together.

What about missions? What if a mission is issued during the celebration? Festivity accelerated the creation of curse spirits sometimes. They said so in class.

Which would mean even less time for them.

“Yane-san…”

Yane shook her head.

“No!” she yelled, much to Yuta’s panic as he put up his hands like he was surrendering. “What about sparring? What about school? And Universal Studio! You wanted to go, didn’t you? We can go! All of us!”

“I’d love to but it is what it is.”

“No it’s not! You said we’d try those weird candies they sell together! You said it would just be like in the movies!”

Yuta’s eyes grew misty. 

“I know… I’m sorry.”

Yane pressed her lips together as they shook. She didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not like this. Not because of this.

“Don’t go,” she begged.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to stay. It’s not fair. We barely had any time together.”

Yuta sighed. He made himself smaller until they were seeing eye-to-eye and Yane saw his apologetic smile.

“It’s not. My departure was decided recently. I’m not happy about this either, but I promise it’s necessary.”

Yane sniffled, “When will you be back?”

Resignation crossed his face.

“I don’t know. But let’s hang out when I visit. All of us! I’ll bring souvenirs!”

Promise it , Yane wanted to say but the words died within her. It was killing her inside knowing that when they became second year, he wouldn’t be around, but from what he had said, this arrangement wasn’t what he wanted either.

Which meant this was an order.

Which meant there was no other response but acceptance.

“I’ll visit. I promise,” Yuta said as he held up his pinkie.

She took the offer and wrapped her pinkie around his and nodded. 

“Okay. It’s a promise.”

Around sunset, they left. At first the two of them walked in silence, marinating in the revelation of Yuta’s trip until he decided to speak up first.

“I ran after Gojo-sensei the other day. I wanted to know more about your situation. Or maybe I just wanted to do something since I couldn’t help. Do you know what he told me?”

Yane shook her head and Yuta looked at the setting sun with a smile.

“I can only give Yane-chan help with cursed energy,” he imitated Satoru’s elaborate hand gestures, drawing an involuntary snort from her. “I can’t do anything about her daily life.”

“Liar. He taught me nothing about cursed energy.”

This earned a surprised laugh from Yuta. He clasped his hand over his mouth, startled by his own amusement at their teacher’s expense. To be fair, Satoru could afford to have a few complaints from his students. He wouldn’t be in charge of them next year. No better time to misbehave behind his back than now.

Once Yuta stopped laughing, his eyes were on Yane. Sincere and mellow.

“I agree with him,” he said. “It won’t be easy, but I feel like if you shy away from living because of your family name or your ancestor, then they have taken from you what isn’t rightfully theirs.”

Yane smiled, “I guess, yeah.”

“I’m not trying to rush you though,” Yuta held up his hand, fumbling suddenly. “You can take your time. As long as you feel comfortable about it. Inumaki-kun will be going back to his house from tomorrow until the third anyway. You could take that time to think it over and–” 

“I will,” she said, returning genuinity.

Yuta studied her before he grinned and blushed. He kept his eyes on the darkening sky.

“You need to tell me when you guys become a couple.”

Yane chuckled. When, he said. That was more optimism than she ever could muster. 

“I will. It’s a promise.”

It was certainly more optimism than she could hope for after how she treated Inumaki.

“I’ll get stronger,” Yuta said. “I’ll get stronger and come back.”

Yane nodded, “And I will too while we all wait for you. I’ll be strong enough to not hesitate to live.”

“You can.” Yuta took a clear file out of his messenger back and handed it to her. “Inumaki-kun gave me this since it seemed you didn’t want to see him.”

Yane blushed, clearing her throat as she cleared away the indication of Yuta’s words, “What’s this?”

He switched sides with her once they arrived at a more populated road. Cars were running at a faster speed since the pedestrian traffic was relatively few and far between. 

“Promotion paperwork,” said Yuta.

Yane scanned the words before turning to Yuta, “Second grade?”

“I think that’s appropriate.”

“That’s a big jump for me.”

“I think it’s just right though,” he argued. “The higher rank you are, the more stipends you’d get and the better your chance of growing your strength become.”

A sudden departure, a promotion, everything was moving so fast. Only a few months had passed since Yane arrived at Tokyo Jujutsu High and this world had given her so much more than what she had known in fifteen years of her life.

Was she ready for this? Yuta had clearly given her his blessing.

Something swelled in her chest as Yane traced the word ‘second grade’ on the paper.

She wanted to try. What else can she do with her ability? How much stronger could she become? How much good could she do in the jujutsu world as a sorcerer and as a student?

Nothing was certain but the uncertainty made her stomach flutter like there were thousands of butterflies within.

“I’ll do my best,” she mumbled. “Then I’ll be a Special Grade by the time you’re back.”

Yuta grinned, “That’s certainly worth looking forward to.”

It came as a shock to both of them when his gentle hand rested on her head and he stroked her hair like a proud brother. Yuta must not have planned it because he almost ripped himself away in horror when he realised what he had done.

But Yane was faster.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him in for a squeezing hug. Yuta was her big brother, no matter what anyone said. He would always be family. Her real family.

“Remember to call, okay?”

Quietly, he returned the hug, putting a bit of pressure onto Yane with his weight when he eased himself into the affection. She hoped he melted from the warmth.

“Okay,” Yuta said. “And I’ll text you guys everyday.”

“Promise?”

He nodded, “Promise.”

New Year's Eve arrived much too quickly and too chaotic for a proper celebration.

As Yane had feared, there was no holiday for a sorcerer.

Inumaki would have to straight back to his family home from a last-minute mission, leaving a single kelp stamp in their group chat for all of them to decipher what he had meant. It was sheer luck that besides him, none of the group were sent out on the actual Eve.

They all wished Inumaki good luck on his mission before returning to their respective responsibilities, preparing for the Year End party amongst themselves.

Maki left after Inumaki with the grocery list while Panda tidied up the common space. Yane and Yuta focused on packing for his trip and clearing out his room in the meantime, taking a lot more effort than she had suspected. Night had fallen on them at last as they finished up with the last box of Yuta’s belongings.

“Are you sure you have your toothbrush?” Yane said, zipping up one side of the large suitcase.

Yuta chortled, “That’s the third time you’ve checked. You know I do.”

“I don’t mean the usual one. The good one. The one Gojo-sensei sent.”

“I do,” insisted Yuta. “Don’t worry. I can always buy a new one if it’s not there.”

“No, don’t just waste money on things you could just bring with you. Gojo-sensei said that the school would pay extra for the luggage weight so–”

“Yane,” Yuta sighed but the smile on his face was understanding and warm.

Yane gave in when she heard the way he said her name. After the visit to Rika’s grave, they had both dropped the honorifics. Nothing had changed besides an unspoken closeness between them like that shared between family members. Maki and Panda, however, had an initial qualm about Yuta’s insistence on still referring to them with honorifics.

“One at a time,” he had explained.

Inumaki, surprisingly, was the calmest about the situation. Maybe he knew something, but his demeanours towards Yuta also changed. They hung out more often… or as often as two sorcerers could when one had to prepare for his trip in four days and one had to continuously go on missions due his talent in resolving sensitive situations without raising alarms.

“I’ll be fine,” Yuta insisted.

The rattling of the entrance door signalled him and Yane to Maki’s return.

“I’m back!” her voice resonated from the first floor.

They rushed to help her unload the shopping bags. Maki employed Yane to move the groceries up to her kitchen so they could prepare the osechi spread, releasing Yuta from the fuss over his suitcase content.

Maki’s instructions for Yane to help with the food made the aspect of Yuta leaving less daunting.

The house would be quieter and colder without him around.

Panda came by to carry the food downstairs. Yuta as well. 

“I’ll help,” he said and Yane let him into the room before she took a tray and left.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Yane heard muffled conversation and smiled. Yuta looked like he wanted to talk to Maki and Yane was more than happy to take care of the food downstairs. 

Yane wasn’t the only one who was worried about him leaving after all. Contrary to her tough-love treatment, Maki was just as kind and warm-hearted as anyone when it came to caring about friends.

When Yane reached the common space, she noticed Kouhaku was on the TV. It was one of the things she most looked forward to when they had been discussing what to do for New Year. The idea of splitting into teams and betting on the winning team of artists had sounded wonderful and coupled that with trying osechi was the best way to make memories before Yuta left.

Inumaki not being here slightly dampened the mood but he had promised to tune in and share the experience with them from his family home. 

Yuta and Maki joined Yane and Panda not long after.

“Looks tasty,” Yuta mumbled as soon as he saw the food.

He found his place at the kotatsu, his eyes glued to contrasting pink and white fish cakes stacked next to each other.

The osechi spread wasn’t overtly fancy, but Yane and Maki made sure to at least have in it some good sashimi. 

“We also have end-of-year soba,” Yane announced much to everyone’s enthusiasm.

Once the obligatory visual bragging of the food had been posted onto the group chat and Inumaki replied with a pufferfish stamp and his own family’s food spread, which was without a doubt another level above theirs in terms of grandeur, the party began.

Panda went straight for the sashimi, almost having to chopstick-fight Maki for it. Yuta, as his earlier intention dictated, wasted no time with the fishcake, making happy squeals as he chewed on them while the performers started singing on TV. The once cold house filled with engulfing warmth and music.Yane made for the vivid red shrimp in the middle of the box, listening to her friends give out their own judgement and score for each performer. 

Maki and Yuta had chosen to side with team White, leaving Panda to cheer for team Red and Yane his honorary partner in crime.

As the food decreased, the new year drew close.

Yane packed the rest of the leftovers and brought the soba down with Yuta’s help as Maki and Panda waited for the countdown.

“Ten,” Maki said when Yane and Yuta placed the soba bowls on the kotatsu.

“Nine,” Panda added.

Yane and Yuta grinned at each other, “Eight.”

“Seven,” they all joined with the performers on TV. “Six, five, four, three, two, one!”

Time seemed to stop.

Yane turned to her friends and grinned.

“Happy new year!” Maki cheered, holding her oolong tea to the centre.

Yane, Yuta, and Panda joined her. They clank cups, laughing, drunk on the atmosphere. Their phones buzzed. 

Yane checked hers.

Inumaki had sent them a Happy New Year stamp and a picture of himself enjoying his own end-of-year soba. He had a red ribbon around his head at which Panda pointed out with ample excitement.

“Toge is on team Red! That’s three against two!”

“Whatever,” Maki grinned. “Team White was better.”

Yane left the table, punching in a private text to Inumaki and then the Fushiguros. Apologising on New Year seemed like a strange thing to do but as things went, it was more important for Yane that she started the year with Inumaki on a good note. If he knew that she was sorry for the way she treated him and he was willing to have a chat with her, that would be the best start of a New Year she could ever ask for.

Yane closed the phone and watched the snow flurrying down in the night, soundlessly landing on the stone yard. 

Maki, Yuta, and Panda were having the time of their lives discussing the best shrine to visit once morning broke. There was a looming chance they might all be dispatched for missions and the plan might fall through but for now, everything felt possible.

She made a note to get the charms from the shrine they would visit.

“What should I get for Gojo-sensei?” she muttered. “Marriage luck? Safe traffic? Safe pregnancy?”

Yane chuckled at the thought.

Her phone buzzed again, and she checked the message with a fluttering heart. 

“Happy New Year,” Megumi had sent. 

Yane smiled and returned the message with the photo of the snow.

As soon as she pressed the ‘sent’ button, her phone rang. Yane answered, a tad startled.

“Hello? Inumaki-kun?”

“Kelp,” he said.

His voice melted into the scenery, like a layer of blanket on a cold night. It was clear like crystal and full of love. There was no doubt about it–the way he felt about her–and there was no denying the feelings she had for him either.

Yane spoke as she watched the falling snow, “You too. Happy New Year.”

I like you.

She laughed when Inumaki carried on talking about his favourite artist from team Red.

I like you.

She hugged herself and leaned against the glass window. Her cheeks burned from the frosty surface.

“Tuna mayo,” Inumaki said in the end and Yane nodded.

“See you,” she said. I like you.

Yane listened to three beats of the end-call trilling before she held down the number one button and waited for the line to connect.

“Yane-chan?”

“Sensei, Happy New Year!” she said.

Satoru returned the greeting in his carefree tone, his words slightly muffled and distorted, most likely because he was slurping down his new-year soba as well.

“Yane-san!” Yuta walked over to her but put his hand together in a silent apology when he saw her on the phone.

She put up one hand to signal an apology of her own before continuing the call. 

Yuta returned to Maki and Panda, whispering to them that she would come back once she was done with her chat.

“Sensei,” Yane said, heart racing. “What are you doing after the New Year celebration?”

“Nothing much,” Satoru cooed. “Why?”

Yane gathered her courage and spoke: 

“Nothing much. I was just wondering if you would be able to give me some training.”

“I don’t see why not,” he said. “But I’m warning you, it’s going to be tough.”

Yane smirked. Of course it would be. Otherwise Satoru wouldn’t have been the strongest sorcerer alive. But if she could learn from him, then maybe Yane would finally be good enough to protect the bonds she had with her friends. Anyone who tried to attack them would have to rethink that decision.

“Bring it on,” she said, grinning when she caught Maki’s inquisitive gaze towards her. “I’ve got to go. Let me know when you'll be free for training, okay?”

“Will do. Though I’d clear my entire schedule for the next two months if I were you, Yane-chan.”

Before she could ask, the call was cut. Immediately after, text messages came from Satoru.

Yane read them as they arrived, grimacing when she processed what he was saying.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled. “Maki probably won’t like this.”

Chapter Text

Yane averted her eyes as she sipped soda from the straw. 

Maki’s reaction wasn’t exactly what she had been looking forward to when she imagined they talked. Their little group had just seen Yuta to the door for his departure. Maki and Panda hadn’t let it show but Yane was sure they had just been better than her at hiding tears. And so she had declared they would be ordering McDonalds in for dinner instead of forcing themselves to cook. 

Yane had made sure to get extra crispy fries for Maki knowing when she broke the news to the two of them after Yuta left, Maki might punch someone’s light out.

Yane, despite knowing fully how selfish she was, hoped that someone would be Panda.

“So, due to the circumstances,” she mumbled under accusatory eyes. “I will be doing a two-month live-in training at Gojo-sensei’s house from tomorrow.”

Yane braced herself for a sudden shout but instead Maki’s face darkened as she silently squashed the ketchup package in her hand.

“ Huh ?” she said, closer to a growl. “Say that again.”

“Due…” Yane cleared her throat. “Due to the circumstances…”

Maki frowned.

“Huh?! What circumstances? All I’m seeing is that blindfold idiot had finally decided to break the law and make a move on you.”

“What do you mean ‘make a move’?” Yane gasped. “It’s not what you think! I’m the one that asked him to train me!”

She took another sip of the soda, hoping the extra sugar would spike her courage. 

Having to see one friend off then be told another one was leaving as early as tomorrow might be too much. It was bad timing on her part, even if it was to maximise the amount of time she could use to train.

Yane winced and straightened her posture as she spoke. 

“Maki, listen, Panda-kun, too. There are many things about the Hama clan that I don’t know yet and with sensei’s resources, I could find out about them–about me . Both the Hama clan and the higher-ups have their eyes on me. I can’t do anything about that. I don’t need them to give you guys troubles too.”

She hung her head. Even if she had Satoru’s protection and her friends, it would be nothing less than cowardice from her to simply hide behind them.

Yane lifted her head, pleading with her best possible puppy eyes.

“Honestly there are a lot of things out of my control right now, but I want that to be the very last excuse after I’ve done everything I can about it. Training with Gojo-sensei is my way to do something about this situation.”

So that no one will be put in danger because of me , she omitted.

Maki wiped the ketchup off her hand with a tissue and shook her own drink before taking a sip. Whether it was because she was so angry that her throat dried or she was preparing for a long-winded lecture, Yane couldn’t tell.

Panda had been quiet the entire conversation. He didn’t seem the type to stop Yane from doing anything unless it was dangerous, of which she was extremely grateful. He was a stable foundation. That was all she could ever ask of him.

Maki breathed out and linked her hands together.

“Are we still seeing each other during missions?” 

Yane nodded.

“All right.” Maki sighed but held up her hands. Her eyes flashed like glass, reflecting a hint of red. “But if that dumbass tries anything funny…”

“I will call you immediately.”

Maki nodded at Yane’s answer with pride. She emptied the bag of fries and pouted.

“Also,” her voice grew smaller. “Tonight is girls’ night okay? We won’t be having those in a while.”

Yane grinned at the suggestion. 

Maki’s cheeks were flushed, and her lower lip slightly protruded. 

She wasn’t one to usually say this sort of thing aloud. 

Yane and her generally spent ‘girls’ night’ unprompted since their rooms were close. Sometimes Panda would try to join, putting a bow on the fur near his ears but each time he would be kicked out by Maki.

Yane wouldn’t have minded. He was a joy to be around until he insisted on the obligatory ‘love talk’ segment. Then, it was just Maki denying Panda’s allegations about her feelings for Yuta and Panda insisting on his observation being correct. It had been fun to listen to but with Yuta’s room within hearing range, the topic had been slightly too dicey.

Next thing they know, Panda might be spouting something else with his observations. Especially considering how close he was with Inumaki.

“Okay!” Yane said, finishing up her meal so they could get the real party going after cleaning up.

She didn’t say it, but she would miss girls’ night as well. Satoru didn’t seem like the type who would enjoy weapon-talks, and he seemed like someone who would become annoying if he caught wind of anything remotely romantic between his students.

It was barely sunrise when Yane left. She didn’t bring too much luggage, trusting Satoru’s words that laundry wouldn’t be a concern. Well, it was the Gojo clan, she had thought, remembering back to the time she had been there.

It was hard to think they would be lacking anything important.

Her driver was a woman named Nitta, younger than Ijichi and much more lively as well. Lively but not talkative. Not talkative, but, unfortunately, curious.

Throughout the trip, Yane caught Nitta glancing over the rearview mirror, stealing glances at her. The attention didn’t feel malicious, and no more than simple fascination, so Yane kept to herself, only sending polite smiles to Nitta whenever their eyes met.

Nitta must also have realised her attention hadn’t gone unnoticed, she stopped eventually, and they travelled in silence for the rest of the way.

Yane arrived at the gate of the estate, noticing a single kimono-wearing female waiting in front of the entrance. She approached the woman with a quick bow.

“Pardon me, I am–”

“This way,” the woman gestured and passed through the gate first. Her face was stiff and unemotional, but her eyes glistened with critiques, flashing like that of an owl searching for prey at night.

As expected of the Gojo clan, each of them seemed to have a certain unreachable aura to them.

Yane chased up to the woman, keeping pace so she wouldn’t be left behind. Her welcoming party didn’t seem particularly excited about her presence. She was so to-the-point with her instructions as a guide that it sounded closer to curt than concise.

“Straight from here through that arch,” said the guide, walking away while the words of gratitude froze on Yane’s lips.

Yane adjusted her rucksack and followed the direction, finding a single stand-alone, two-story house. It stood lonely in the faded grey of the yard. The garden around it must have been beautiful during any other season, it was just Yane’s luck that she arrived during winter. All the trees were clean of leaves, standing bare bark like charcoal sculptures submitted by school children.

“What’s gotten your fancy?”

Satoru’s voice came from the house. Yane looked over to his direction, dissent swelled inside when she saw her teacher with a tray of warm green tea and three-coloured dango.

Was it not too early in the morning for sweets?

Satoru sat cross-legged on the porch, cosy in his navy hanten and black turtleneck as his darkened sunglasses flashed in the sun. He grinned at her with his head resting on one hand. His words slurred.

“Welcome! To the Gojo clan’s head villa!”

Yane bowed.

“Forgive my intrusion.”

Something welled inside of her, not so much eagerness, not so much excitement, half of it anxiety. Satoru at his home was different from the Satoru she had seen outside. It seemed to Yane’s eyes that over these last few days they hadn’t met, he had made some sort of decision with himself.

There was a strange determination in his eyes which burnt with an unyielding heat so horrifically mesmerising it rendered Yane breathless at the sight. It felt heavy.

Yane lowered her gaze, unable to stare directly into the pressure. 

She had vaguely noticed it on the day of her confinement and now, in front of him, she fully registered the weight of it–the unbearable weight of his nearly thirty years as someone standing at the top.

The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous her situation became. She was finally here, requesting jujutsu world’s strongest sorcerer to train her.

“My chance of survival seems a bit low,” she uttered to Satoru’s delight.

“Oh,” he snickered, “don’t sell yourself so short.”

But his aura betrayed the lightness in his voice and from the way he slowly picked the hot tea up for a sip like he was getting ready for a good TV show, it was evident that whether Yane was strong enough or if Satoru truly believed she was, he had no plan to let her leave the estate unscathed.

“Strike when the iron is hot!”

Satoru declared, flinging his hanten to the side and leapt from the porch.

Yane swung her rucksack at him, barely able to dodge the kick.

“At least, let me put my stuff down first!” she screamed, dizzy from the adrenaline rush. So, this was why he said not to bring too many things. “What about my lucky money?! Don’t you want your New Year greeting?”

Satoru lunged forward, throwing a punch. She bent back, covering her left side with her arm and throwing an uppercut at him with her right fist.

He caught her and grinned.

“This is enough greeting. Once you manage to land a hit on me, I’ll give you your lucky money.”

Yane grinned back and spun away from him.

“Deal.” 

Her head cleared. The cold weather ceased to bother her, and the background faded into second thoughts, leaving Satoru as the single focus.

Yane gulped.

Her training had finally begun. 

Aside from the days they had missions (or she did because as much as he could, Satoru would involve her in missions which was originally his), Satoru would set out a time for them to spar. Strangely enough, none of her missions coincided with Maki and the others.

Yane woke at five, making as little noise as she could to not wake Satoru. 

His bedroom was right above the living room which she turned into her makeshift living space. He would wake up around seven, walking down to the kitchen with his bedhead and some lame joke about her being able to get married as soon as he saw food was ready. 

If he was in a good mood, he would add something else about not being ready to give her away to some random bastard, to which Yane simply rolled her eyes and told him to get himself a wife before he could say something of that fashion.

Even though he woke early, Satoru didn’t show his face again until near noon. All his food beside breakfast was taken care of by his family’s staff, a treatment which wasn’t extended to her. Yane had offered but her guide strictly forbade her from giving Satoru any food. Not that he cared anyway.

On the other hand, the clan provided her with any weaponry she could possibly need. The Gojo clan hadn’t given her the hospitality reserved for a guest, but they hadn’t deprived her of the resources fit for a house vassal.

They had even set up targets in the yard along with some wooden training dummies.

Once Yane’s target practice had finished, Satoru would emerge at the most random moment and attack her in the name of training. 

The first few days usually ended with one strong hit from him and then Yane startling back into consciousness as if she had been electrocuted.

But it was different now.

Yane pulled a spread as soon as she felt the change in airflow from behind her. The chill from winter ground seeped through the fabric and clung onto her legs. 

She swung her right leg, using the momentum to turn her body around and got into stance as she watched her teacher flip away from her attack.

He landed with effortless elegance, pushing the sunglasses up as he smiled.

“Good reflex. Getting better, hey.”

“I’m not about to just let you pull the same trick on me, sensei.”

Satoru guffawed, “You say that, but you fell for it for like 5 days in a row, Yane-chan.”

“Shush!” Yane blushed.

She sprinted towards him, sliding between his legs before grabbing his ankle and pulling it back.

Satoru fought the force and Yane yelped when her body became airborne. She clung onto his ankle for dear life.

Her teacher tilted his head to the side as he lifted his leg, grinning at her dangling from his leg.

“Are you pretending to be a cat?”

“I’m shocked you think this was part of my plan,” she pouted.

Even though it was her training, Satoru had never once seemed bothered by her attack. If anything, he looked as though he was playing with a kid, enjoying a game of tag. It was no surprise considering the gap between their ability. The joy he showed her was all the proof she needed to strive for higher combat proficiency.

“Do you need a handicap?”

Yane spat, “No!”

She released her hold as Satoru kicked and swung her away from him. There was virtually no opening in his defence, but that was no problem.

If there was none, all she needed to do was to create one.

Yane went for the attack. Satoru’s defence might be formidable, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t chip it away until it broke. His observation was the problem. He always seemed to know when she would strike and what she would do next.

It was highly unlikely he could see the future. If disregarding the possible foresight, then his ability to counter each attack could be accounted for by an ability to see cursed energy.

Yane never had the ability to do so until she used Echolocation but after her fight with Suguru Geto, she refrained from tapping into it. It was inefficient in fast-paced combat. Echolocation couldn’t be triggered when she had her eyes open.

Wait , she paused. Why couldn’t it?

“Gotcha!”

She heard Satoru cheered and time stopped for a split second. The next thing Yane registered was a flashing pain on her right cheek as if her entire patch of skin had been grazed clean. 

She fell to the ground, managing to only block herself from sustaining any further injury from the impact.

“Yane-chan, it’s not good to lose focus during a fight,” Satoru teased.

Yane felt her cheek with a shaky hand, wincing when the palpable heat spread from the point of impact.

“That instinct to cover your impact point with cursed energy was commendable though,” he added.

Yane’s lips parted. She hadn’t expected to be able to do that, on instinct no less. 

Her mind spun, trying to remember the sensation. For a moment upon impact, she felt a gap. Like a beat in the middle of two seconds where she could breathe. It was fast but if she could get used to that speed, if she could use that little time to her advantage, there would be space for her to fight on the offence rather than getting stuck in a defensive position.

“Again,” Yane rose and readjusted her pose.

She was here to up her skill, which meant she needed to try things she couldn’t do before. Using a trick she could only do with her eyes closed before while her eyes were open was exactly what upskill meant. If she could see the world the way her friends did and in the way they couldn’t, then Yane would be valuable. Indispensable, even. 

She activated Echolocation as she kept her eyes on Satoru, but as soon as she did, a searing pain bloomed from the back of her head, engulfing her eyes.

Yane fell to her knees, clutching her face. A scream burst through her as she grovelled.

“Yane-chan!” 

She heard Satoru’s voice by her side.

Her hand reached out, meeting his wrist and she used it as leverage. Yane locked it under her arm and swung her fist towards him. It met with something and deflected from its trajectory.

Even when she was hurt, he didn’t have his guard down. Another lesson to learn.

“That’s some reckless move you tried to pull,” Satoru chuckled. “Are you okay then?”

Yane shook her head. The pain hadn’t subsided.

The loser of this spar was evident. 

Her silly punch must have been childish pride to him. Yet, she couldn’t help but force out a smile. Perhaps somewhere in her mind Yane was hoping that her effort to put up a front would translate into a natural painkiller, but with her rotten luck, it had failed not only to reduce her pain and adding more to it instead.

“It hurt so much I could die,” she confessed and felt her body float, lifted by something under her legs and back.

“We’ll get back to sparring later,” Satoru commanded. “Rest your eyes for now.”

The pain dulled after a few hours.

Or the cold pressed towel Satoru gave her had numbed down the pain enough for her mind to push it further down her priority list.

Yane kept her eyes closed with bandages as the Gojo clan’s doctor suggested. It would take a few days, the doctor had announced. 

The sudden surge of cursed energy had done its damage on Yane’s irises and even with the doctor’s Reverse Cursed Technique her eyes still required time before it could fully heal.

“Can you sit up?”

Satoru’s voice found her quietly. His cheerful demeanour had subsided ever since her little eye accident. Or was this his usual self when no one was there to see him?

Yane almost laughed at the thought of the brooding rendition of her teacher before realising she hadn’t sensed him approaching even though she could somewhat tell how many people were around the villa with short activations of Echolocation.

“Sensei,” she said, blowing raspberries. “My eyes just hurt a little, it’s not like I’m on my deathbed or anything.”

“‘It hurts so much I could die’ didn’t sound like ‘a little’ to me,” the joking tone returned to his voice. “Here.”

He placed something warm into her hand. 

A mug cup?  

Yane guessed by the shape of it. She placed the rim to her lips and sipped, startled by the slight hint of sweetness and the deep, encasing charm of cacao.

“Woah,” Yane spoke without thought.

The hot chocolate fit so well with the temperature that it woke her up from the haze.

“It tastes like a nice hug.”

Satoru chuckled and she felt his hand on her head, tousling her hair about the same way he always would with a silly grin on his face. 

She pouted, “What was that for?”

“The compliment,” Satoru replied. “I knew it. I’m good at everything.”

Yane nearly choked on the beverage. Satoru was a strong sorcerer, who had a face that was practically impossible to compete against, who headed an entire clan, and now he could even make good hot chocolate? This man was closer to a goblin than a human at this point.

“Sensei,” she said. “Why don’t you have a wife or a fiancé?”

“Hmm… why? Are you applying?”

She made a swing for his arm but felt nothing but air.

“I’m going to call Maki if you say that again.”

“I know, I know,” Satoru laughed. “I’m not so perverted to the point of committing a crime. Besides, it’s bad taste to make a move on one’s student and vassal.”

“But not a young person?”

She held back a smile when she heard Satoru choked on his drink and laughed.

Eventually, his laughter died out, but he never elaborated on a reason. Yane took it as a sign the topic might be sensitive for him.

Comfortable silence fell over them before Satoru spoke again.

“What you did today was a bit too dangerous. That pain you felt was a rebound. There’s an intricate balance within your pool of curse energy right now and you need to be more aware of it, Yane-chan.”

There was a faint breeze coming from her right but there was a thick layer of fabric on her. Yane remembered the forestry smell on it. She held the mug cup as he continued.

“You know that really beautiful, layered cocktail?”

She shook her head and added, “Sensei, I’m a minor.”

Satoru snorted and cleared his throat.

“Well then, think of a glass, then there are layers of liquid with different thickness. You learned this in physics. Lighter liquid could stack on top of a thicker one.”

Yane nodded, “Theoretically, I supposed.”

She pictured in her mind, following Satoru’s suggestion. It was no easy task since she hadn’t seen a layered cocktail before but if replacing it with different colours blocks of liquid was all she needed to do, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

“Right now, on the second layer,” Satoru said. “That’s my cursed energy. It’s not a lot, barely scratching a surface of what I have–”

Yane stuck out her tongue, “Show off.”

He tousled her hair again, “–but it does enough to prevent Yahiro’s cursed energy from taking over yours.”

“So, that’s what happened the last time? His energy overtook mine?”

“It’s not quite that clear cut unfortunately,” she heard Satoru sighed. “And the situation is more dynamic but to sum it up in simpler terms then use the example of the layered cocktail. We believe your body has been engineered to house Yahiro’s energy and more–”

“More?”

Yane clutched the helm of her shirt. Her fingers dug into the fabric, shaking.

“Don’t worry. Most of the cursed energy and techniques that was imbued into you when you were a baby was slowly devoured over time by Yahiro. Your body was modified to house multiple people until Yahiro consumed all of them.”

She shuddered, remembering a particular reference from school. Yane let out an uneven breath as she asked.

“Sensei… am I… Kodoku?”

The silence was louder than anything she had heard. Yane felt around for a surface to put the mug cup before the strength left her hand and she dropped it. Once the cup was out of her hand, she pulled the fabric draping over her closer, not cold but unable to stop the trembles travelling throughout her body.

She couldn’t imagine it.

Satoru had used such a beautiful example to describe it but at its core, the fancy cocktail glass was nothing more than an inescapable jar to create the unspeakable. Instead of insects, it was cursed energy and techniques from who-knows-where, destroying one another until there was only one left. 

And it had happened to her when she was a child. Her own family had treated her as no more than a mere holding space for others to use.

Bile rose to her throat. Did Satoru say ‘people’?

“Right now, I’m keeping Yahiro’s energy at bay, but I suspect there are a few things that might go wrong if you’re not careful, Yane-chan.”

She held the nausea back with the desperation of someone hanging off a cliff by a single fibre of their rope. Yane barely managed.

“Then teach me.”

Satoru’s hand was on her head again. The warmth from it offered a laughable attempt at keeping the cold out of her body.

“Don’t overexert yourself,” he said. “As soon as you used up all of your current available energy, and I mean your energy, the only thing left within your body would be Yahiro’s energy and mine and when that happens, his energy would try to overtake mine which is highly unlikely if I put my full force to hold him down but that means putting tremendous burden on your body.”

“So, I can’t get rid of his energy at all?”

Her nose stung. It all felt so unfair, and Yane wanted nothing more than to dowse herself in clear, cold water to get rid of the sticky sensation flowing through her veins.

“Unfortunately, we don’t know. It’s unlikely, seeing that your body was built to house him,” Satoru admitted, but he continued almost right away. “We do know, however, that there is a possibility to put less burden on your body, and hopefully do something about Yahiro’s energy within your body.”

Yane perked up at his words. 

“Which is?” She spoke.

“Accessing it,” he said. “Because your body is linked to Yahiro’s energy, there is a chance that you could bypass my energy to access his. It is, after all, your body. You should still have the control right in this situation.”

“It doesn’t really feel like that.”

Satoru chuckled.

“But it is possible. Up until now, you’ve only been using your energy to fight so when it runs out, it gave him a chance to gain access to your body, but if you use his instead of yours–”

“Then I can limit his ability to control me and lower the burden put by your energy.”

She heard a snapping sound and smiled at the image of Satoru’s grin when he said, “Exactly.”

More than the disgust when she envisioned using this sordid source of power, more than the fear of being taken over by Yahiro, Yane’s chest felt light when she thought about how to use it. 

There was a way. 

There was something that she could do, something about her that she could make use of in her fight.

There was a path for her to walk instead of flailing about in the dark.

She had found a new weapon.

The moonlight was gentle on her cheeks. Even with the bandages on, she could still feel the cold, careful touch of the moon in contrast to the bright, hot sun.

“It’s a bit like you, sensei,” she said, listening to Satoru hummed.

“What is?”

Yane smiled. “The moon.”

She drew a breath and straightened her posture before speaking, and she tried to speak as close to his direction as she could.

“I want to know how to use Yahiro’s energy.”

“It won’t be easy, and it will take some time, but I think you will pick it up quickly enough. However,” he stressed. “Not until next week.”

Yane pouted. The earlier she can learn how to do it, the better it will be for everyone. Why the wait?

A soft chuckle echoed through the room.

“Don’t rush yourself,” Satoru put the mug back into her hands. “I’ll be out of the city for a mission for the next few days from tomorrow. Take the time to rest and do research. I had Ijichi prepare a collection of material regarding your situation.”

Her frown deepened.

“Sensei,” she moved her hand in front of her eyes, waving to show him her point.

Satoru’s confidence didn’t chip.

“Don’t worry. I’ve arranged for back up. You’re in good hands.” His tone shifted into a quieter note. “Now, finish the drink and I’ll guide you to the sink so you can get ready for bed.”

Yane was still confused about this ‘back up’ Satoru mentioned, but that would have to wait. There was no point in arguing with him further. She was here to learn from him, which meant that she had to follow his schedule. Since she was the one to mess up her eyes, there was no one Yane could blame, perhaps beside her own wretched origin, for the setback in her training.

At least she would have something to do while Satoru was gone rather than sit still and be bored out of her mind or worse, create more injuries for herself trying to make whatever resembling food in her condition.

The thought of food brought a different concern to her mind.

“Will the backup be making food as well?”

“I don’t know how good he is at that, but if he doesn’t you can just order him around.”

Satoru giggled and urged her to finish the hot chocolate. He seemed oddly excited about the back up. Yane, however, simply wished he hadn’t called for anyone strange. Like Ijichi who, under no circumstances, should be running around like a servant in the Gojo clan’s estate in apron to make her food when her promotion papers were still on his desk waiting to be processed.

Chapter Text

“So, with that said, this is Megumi Fushiguro-kun, the backup!”

Satoru announced, much to Yane’s despair. 

She didn’t need her vision to picture the mischievous grin gracing his face. She did, however, require several moments to regain her composure and sort through her thoughts.

It was only an hour or two after she had woken up that Satoru asked her to meet his ‘backup’. Yane had been bracing herself to greet the poor soul (or mainly Ijichi) who was dragged into this, but never had she expected him to bring a freaking junior high student for help during probably his most important time of the school year.

“Sensei…” said Yane as she raised her hand. She could feel a growing ache in the front of her head.

“Yes, Yane-chan?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and got out of the bed.

“Megumi-kun is still a student.” She made her way towards them, locating the two with Echolocation. “Why did you drag him from school for this? I thought you were asking Ijichi-san or something.”

“It’s only for tonight and the weekend,” Satoru said. “When Megumi has school, someone else will take over. And Ijichi is busy, Yane-chan. I can’t possibly make him come here now, can I?”

Yane frowned.

The one time she heard Satoru say something remotely close to a proper acknowledgement for Ijichi…

She had honestly thought ‘backup’ had meant one person, but clearly Satoru might be considering something else entirely. Her teacher never ran out of outrageous ideas, even when some of those were proper fun.

Yane crossed her arms and deactivated Echolocation once her eyes started to hurt.

“Did you put up a ‘Help wanted’ poster or something?” she asked, uncertain if she wanted to hear his answer.

Satoru chuckled, “Pretty much.”

“I’m pretty sure he just dragged anyone who wasn’t able to say ‘no’ into it,” Megumi added.

Yane shook her head, “Sensei…”

Satoru ignored the accusation and guided her back to bed. 

“Think of it as a way for the kid to take a break from his study too,” he said in a lower voice out of Megumi’s earshot. “Megumi was worried about you.”

“That’s because you told him about my eyes,” Yane hissed, but she got back under the covers. “Who else did you tell?”

“No one who shouldn’t know.”

“Sensei!”

Satoru shushed her in the same quiet voice.

“Kid seemed worried ever since Christmas.” He patted her head. “Give people who care about you a chance to care about you, Yane-chan.”

Yane huffed and puffed but she didn’t fight him. Gratitude and guilt mixed into each other within her. Yane had thought that Megumi was somewhat weary of her because in his shoes, she would have been too. Her actions, her blatant involvement in his life were nothing more than her own selfishness and desire. If she had made him feel obligated in any way, that would be the last thing Yane wanted.

She heard the sliding door open and Satoru declaring loudly.

“I’m off then! The doctor will be around in a few hours to check on your eyes again!”

“Be careful!” Yane called after him, hearing the door tapped against the wooden frame. 

She sighed and shook her head before turning to Megumi and waving at him to come closer.

His footsteps echoed through the room mutely, dampened by the high quality of the wood flooring. Megumi didn’t rush. There was a slow and steady rhythm to his steps as he closed the distance between them.

And suddenly Yane realised the prickly and guarded attitude he first showed was no longer there.

She was in the presence of someone different: A Megumi who didn’t sound like he was on guard with some stranger he just met, a Megumi who didn’t rush her away from his school or tried to press Yane into sharing her troubles. This was a Megumi that had grown a little since the last time they met.

“Just so you know, he didn’t force me into coming here.”

Yane laughed through her nose when she heard he spoke.

“Long time no see, Megumi-kun,” she said, listening to the shuffling of clothes as he settled down on the floor next to the bed.

“Right,” Megumi said. His voice was lower too and calmer. He sounded as though he was a sprout which found stable ground, slowly preparing to grow. “Long time no see, Hamada-senpai.”

Yane smiled in his direction and reached out, finding his shoulder. She gave it a few reassuring taps and spoke:

“Yane. I’d prefer if you’d just use my name.”

To Megumi, perhaps she was a Hamada, but to the rest of this world, she would always be known as a member of the Hama clan. Either she was someone sold out of fear, or someone to be feared. But as Yane, she was someone else’s friend, someone else’s student, and someone else’s upperclassman.

Megumi’s concern came as a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. Some parts in Yane’s heart started to hope. Maki and Yuta had always taken care of her like older siblings. When Yane looked at Megumi, she found a part of herself staring back, and he soon felt like a younger brother.  

He already had one older sister. She knew that. Yane had no intention of stealing that position from Tsumiki. Yane and Megumi weren’t even connected by blood. Wishing that he would accept her as something even close to family would be absurd and arrogant. But if she could… if the two siblings would let her, while Tsumiki wasn’t able to say congratulations on his birthday or walk with him to Jujutsu High, Yane thought it would be nice to give Megumi something within his rights: a family. Just until Tsumiki woke up. 

Megumi took a pause, worrying Yane with his hesitance, but he finally said.

“Okay, Yane-senpai.”

She retracted her hand with a grin. 

It was a selfish wish to make, condescending even, anything other than regrets and loneliness.

Yane scoffed at her thought. What awful creatures, sorcerers were. Yane included.

Yet, with these awful creatures, she found good friends, she learned to want a family, to want love, and to experience love. And what kind of person she would be if she regretted all these wonderful things that she received by staying as the horrible thing they said she was. 

“So then, Megumi-kun,” Yane said. “How about we shoot the breeze for a bit before the doctor gets here?”

The air turned colder as their conversation carried on, signalling the approaching end of the day.

It wasn’t that they weren’t aware of the time passing. On more than one occasion Megumi had left Yane’s side to either make food, get snacks, or prepare some kind of warm drink for them.

Even then, their chat never stopped.

Yane learned much more about Megumi from their casual conversation than she ever heard from Satoru since they met.

It seemed Megumi liked to read and mostly his favourite books are non-fiction. The fact saddened Yane slightly since she was the opposite, jumping at any possible chance for a fantasy series. But the revelation added an important note to her future gift selection came Megumi’s birthday.

Other than his reading preference, he also informed her that this wasn’t his first time to Tokyo. 

It was such a natural thing and yet she had never thought about it and from what Yane could gather, Megumi wasn’t new to the sorcery business either. Satoru had been taking him to missions so he could observe the work before he officially entered Jujutsu High.

Her chest tightened a little when she heard him talk about those missions like they were something unremarkable. 

No. Perhaps unremarkable was the wrong word. 

There was sure to be some sort of long-lasting conclusion for him to reach while on all these missions with Satoru, but the unchanging tone he used to describe them, even those with casualties, suggested a practiced calmness in the face of mortality.

The thought alone had driven her to offer some assuring pats on his back, earning back surprised and confused questions.

Yane didn’t want to call it pity. 

It was a good thing that he didn’t seem too troubled by the loss of others. It might be better for him to have some kind of resistance to losing people. Being a sorcerer was dicey business with no guaranteed tomorrow. One day she might disappear from his sight as well, unannounced, and instant.

Yane shrunk at the morbid imagination, wondering if her life was to one day end, would Megumi speak about her in the same way he had shared with her the stories of sorcerers whose lives were cut too short.

She held onto the tea he had brewed for the two of them, trying to absorb the warmth from it into her memory as she spoke.

“Well, if I’m gone one day. It won’t have to be for long, but I hope you’d at least cry a little for me.”

Megumi fell silent. The atmosphere turned icy in his reticence.

“That’s not a good joke,” he muttered.

Yane chuckled. 

After a while, Megumi spoke again, “Gojo-san said you have some material you’d like to read. And I’m supposed to help with that.”

She flinched.

Of course. That was part of his job here. The joy of meeting him again had completely taken over that part of her memory.

Yane’s hold on the cup tightened.

Megumi would learn about her once he entered school. He would hear the horrible things about where she came from through the mouths of people who didn’t want her around.

In fact, who was to say Satoru hadn’t told him already?

Yane sighed, saddened at the thought. 

If possible, it would be better if he never had to know. 

More curse than human, Geto had said. And Satoru hadn’t denied her claim about being a kodoku either. Would Megumi eventually look at her with the same contempt or reluctance that half the sorcerers had shown before?

Her chest ached and Yane laughed until the tension thinned, chasing her worst-case-scenario with another effort to talk.

“Are you angry that I mentioned ‘dying’?” 

“I’m not,” replied Megumi. His voice was cold and stern. He must have had that grumpy frown on his face right about now.

Yane smirked, “You totally are.”

She reached over and patted his head. Strangely enough he didn’t move away.

“Don’t worry. It’s only what-if. I’m not dying anytime soon, Megumi-kun. That’s why I’m training hard right now.”

“So hard you injured your eyes, huh.”

Yane pouted, “Now that’s a low blow.”

In the darkness created by her bandages, she heard a soft snort and smiled. “Oh, you laughed.”

“I did not,” Megumi cleared his throat.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

Yane’s smile turned into a full chuckle which only subsided once there was a knock on the door. 

Megumi let the doctor inside and when the doctor began the check-up on Yane, he retreated to the kitchen. Not long after he left the room, muted sounds of a knife on the cutting board and oil sizzling came from the kitchen’s direction.

Yane’s heart fluttered. She found herself wondering what kind of food Megumi made at home, if he had a favourite food, and if he would mind telling her about Tsumiki’s favourite food as well. Then, her thoughts shifted to Inumaki. It had only been a week but she missed him. She missed the homely meals they shared after missions around the common space kotatsu.

Savoury smell slowly oozed through the gap between the door and the frame. Whatever Megumi was making, it smelled like it would be delicious.

Must be nice , Yane thought while she complied with the doctor’s request to move her eyes following his finger. Whoever marries him later would get themselves quite a caring housewife.

And she puffed her cheeks. Baseless annoyance emerged.

Not yet. Megumi was too young to get married. At least forty. He would have to at least be forty before marriage could happen. Deep down, Yane was sure that were Tsumiki to wake up, she would say the same thing and  most likely accept Yane’s offer to list up potential traits for Megumi’s future partner.

That would be fun , Yane thought. 

And she decided with herself, after introductions, Megumi’s marriage partner would be the first thing they could talk about. Yes. They could certainly become fast friends with that.

Yane bit down a grin as she imagined that: Girls’ night with Maki AND Tsumiki. How livelier her life would become.

The excitement only died when the doctor huffed, stressing that he would not repeat the eye care instruction for the third time if Yane didn’t pay attention to him this time.

“Give it a few more days and you should be fine,” he concluded and gathered his belongings. “While it was important to keep your eyes covered during the day to prevent overloading it with bright light, you could remove the bandage and let them slowly get back to its natural state at night time.” 

His figure was a blurry mixture of colours in her unbandaged eyes, from which Yane could barely make out a shape. Whenever the bandages came off, the unfamiliar darkness would turn into a hazy field of colours. It was as if  Yane was looking out the window, trying to make sense of the scenery outside during a downpour. 

She left her eyes unbandaged after the doctor’s words nonetheless.

It wasn’t helpful in terms of vision, but from the colours Yane could at least tell apart certain things. That would most likely lessen the burden on Megumi somewhat. However, it appeared Megumi had other concerns when it came to her.

He re-entered the room after seeing the doctor out and made an audible, sharp inhale when Yane turned to him.

The silence that followed his reaction made her squirm. 

Did her eyes look that bad? 

Yane shook at the thought of her eyeballs completely melted like those victims in horror movies. Her hands moved to touch her eyes on instinct and once she confirmed the very evident existence of her eyeballs, she turned back to him, anticipative.

“Megumi-kun? What’s wrong?”

“Yane-senpai… “ he started. “I think your eyes are a bit different?”

“Different? Different how?” 

She felt her way over to the mirror set in the corner of the room and rolled its protective cover up. Even when Yane pressed her face close to the mirror, it was impossible to discern what had gotten Megumi so worried. Her eyeballs were, without a doubt, intact.

“The colour,” said Megumi. “I don’t remember it being grey.”

“Grey!?” Yane squeaked and pressed her face even closer to the mirror. “No. It was definitely not grey. How come they’re grey now? Do you think it’ll stay grey? Oh no…”

She heard a soft creak to her left and turned to the noise. Megumi’s figure loomed over the table, dressed in blocks of navy and black.

“We’ll ask the doctor tomorrow,” he said. “Come eat first.”

He crouched, slowly placing different blocks of colour down which Yane guessed was their dinner. She lingered over the reflective surface of the mirror before finally walking over to him and sat, squinting her eyes at the food, trying to make out what the dish was based on their colours.

“It’ll be fine, right?” Yane frowned.

The one time she tried to improve her ability and it rebounded on her. Yahiro and the clan probably wouldn’t let her use her body as she pleased. Maybe they hadn’t meant for her to use it like this. Echolocation, after all, was something she did following Satoru’s encouragement.

Her body could have been a tool with a completely different purpose.

But even then, why should she cave and do what those people wanted her to do? It was her body. She should be the one to tell it what to do, not them.

“Just make sure you don’t have too high of those expectations,” said Megumi while he sat on the opposite side. “Injuries caused by cursed energy can be tricky–

“Thank you for the food! Bon appetit,” Yane said quickly, not looking to lose her appetite before she ate.

Megumi sighed, but simply followed her. “Bon appetit.”

She guided her chopstick towards the brown block colour, gripping the food but finding only air. The shade of the chopstick seemed to melt into the colour of the food. 

Frustrated, she dug into her bowl, resorting to eating the rice first when she felt a slight weight added onto her hold of the bowl. Yane moved the chopsticks towards it and found something yellow on top of her rice. It could either be a slice of rolled egg or a piece of pineapple by the shape of it. 

Megumi’s palette was still a mystery to her.

She sniffed and confirmed it to be the former of the two options. Yane chuckled.

Even with cold, practical advice, at his root, Megumi was a good person.

“Aw, Megumi-kun is really kind.”

“What are you talking about…” he grumbled. “Hurry before the food becomes cold. I’ll help you with the research material after. Whatever that entails.”

Yane flinched. Her appetite paled and left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. She set the food down and balled her hands together. Her gaze fixated on the table, avoiding a direct line to Megumi even though he was no more than blotches of shades to Yane in her current state.

“Did you hear about me from Gojo-sensei?” she said as though there wasn’t enough air to breathe.

Megumi put his bowl and chopsticks down as well. “Not really. Was there something he was supposed to tell me?”

Yane breathed out in relief.

“If that’s the case,” she lifted her head. “Before we begin the research, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Megumi finished his shower just a little after midnight.

He hadn’t expected the conversation and subsequent research to stretch until so late at night.

Leaving the door between the living room and the kitchen just a crack, Megumi peered inside, nodding to himself when he saw Yane was sound asleep. She didn’t seem like she was carrying a single worry in the world while she slept, part of her face slightly illuminated by the moonlight once she stirred.

He closed the door quickly, checked the lock, and headed upstairs to Gojo’s room with a heavy heart.

When Yane had told him about her family or as she had said ‘relevant information about the research’, Megumi had thought she was pulling his legs. It had been the first time, and he had suspected, the only time he would ever hear about let alone see a sentient cursed tool. 

‘Unexpected’ would have been a gross generalisation for his conclusion about it all. He hadn’t cared much about the history or politics of the jujutsu world. Megumi always felt he lived outside of that. 

Yet, somehow when he saw the way that the same history and politics had ‘created’ this girl sitting just across from him at dinner, the vague topics he distanced himself from became crystal clear, haunting like an after image when he accidentally stared into the sun for too long.

He clutched his stomach as if someone had punched him in the gut. 

Despite feeling no pain, it was a painful conversation to be a part of. The most painful part of it was probably seeing her face, ridden with the guilt not hers to carry, and because Yane had chosen to stay in this world, it was a guilt she would have to continue carrying until who knew when.

It hadn’t been Megumi’s first choice to become a sorcerer. No. Not until recently. And if his calculation was correct, Yane’s decision to become one had only been made in about the same amount of time. 

Despite that, there was a determination in her eyes he hadn’t found in his.

Not to compare convictions, but to Megumi, it seemed she was desperate to be a sorcerer regardless of what she had gone through because of the same world, and by the hands of the same people she aspired to be.

He just couldn’t wrap his head around her decision.

Megumi knew the rules of this world even though he wasn’t interested in it. 

He had thought it was smart to be aware of things even though they weren’t within one’s range of interest. Besides, Gojo complained to him sometimes and despite his goof, Gojo was involved enough to be an important player around the political chessboard. 

Even when his position as a player was somewhat ambiguous. 

With his attitude, the game was more Gojo moving the pieces around as he pleased and the other trying to adhere as much as they could to the rules. As a piece on the board, Yane would have a tougher time than most. Especially as someone so deeply involved with Gojo. The man himself didn’t look like he planned to let her slip from him anytime soon either. Megumi wasn’t sure, however, if Gojo meant that as a student or a trump card.

He shook his head and turned on the light, taking out more documents from the envelopes that had been left to him.

The truth about Yane’s family was difficult to process. Megumi knew it would take him more than a single night to completely understand and accept it– accept her –but he couldn’t just sit still and wait for it to ruminate in his mind.

Miserly, he was glad that she couldn’t see at the moment.

He didn’t know what kind of face he was making while he was listening to her, but Megumi preferred to not add sadness on top of Yane’s guilt by judging like an idiot. He wasn’t quite sure how he should feel about her just yet. She didn’t seem like a bad person, although slightly nosy and very much missing a screw here or there when it came to certain things. 

All in all, Yane clearly wasn’t someone trying to do harm, if anything she was trying to do good by as many people as she could. 

It was confusing and slightly insulting at first how she acted as if Tsumiki was her long-time friend, and he was her long-lost sibling. They hadn’t had someone like that around in a long time. Yane’s behaviour wasn’t necessarily bad but other than Gojo, Megumi hadn’t expected anyone else to act in a similar manner. Well, less ridiculous, but similar.

He decided he needed something to last him through the research,  and headed for the kitchen. 

Megumi applauded himself for having half a mind to purchase a pack of instant coffee before heading over to Gojo’s house. Terrible taste in refreshment, this man. If it wasn’t half constructed out of sugar, it wouldn’t be in his cabinet.

Despite all that, the only fully consumed beverage was barley tea.

Megumi made a cup of ice coffee for himself and checked on Yane one last time before returning to the room and the documents.

Yane certainly was an irregularity. She would probably continue to stay that way for Megumi for a while. But at least with these words on paper and these stories of people living hundreds of years before them, he would understand a little bit more about her so that one day, she will be a regular and natural part of his life.

Megumi paused and blinked. Why had he wanted her to be a part of his life?

Weeks ago, the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind.

Not that he was anti-social in any way but Megumi had never really gone out of his way to meet and keep people. Tsumiki and Gojo were special. Well, one was special, the other was more like a wealthy, eccentric freeloader who was really good at his job and always looking to annoy Megumi.

Which category, then, did Yane fall into? Since she was picked up by Gojo, although that definition left a lot to interpretation, could it be that she belonged to the same group?

Megumi shook his head.

That wasn’t quite it. If anything Yane leaned closer to Tsumiki on the spectrum. Liked to meddel, but harmless. She was no Tsumiki though. In fact, she was whatever he imagined he would get from the ‘Tsumiki plus Gojo divided by two’ equation.

Nosy when she wasn’t needed, too naive for the profession, but just good enough as a sorcerer. Leaving the talk of her skills aside, Yane had a drive to stay in the profession and sometimes that was the most deciding factor for a sorcerer to grow and stay alive despite her readiness to die whenever necessary. He understood that. If death was necessary, then it was the inevitable and faultless choice.

He understood that, and yet…

His chest tightened at the memory of her talking about death.

Would he cry if she died?

He barely even thought about how to react when the other sorcerers he met had died. He didn’t want to think about them. Maybe that was why he never went out of his way to get to know people. Or let people know him. 

But now that someone had appeared, someone who relentlessly put themselves in his life and demanded the same from him like they owed each other that. So, why hadn’t Megumi been as annoyed as he expected?

Was it because he saw her as a good person? If so, what did that say about him? What was he looking for when he looked at Yane?

What was she looking for when she saw him?

Megumi adjusted the table lamp as he took sips of the ice coffee, jotting down notable points he found from the open documents strewn across the table.

He smiled, listening to the utter quietness in between the brushing of pages.

It was too late in the night to overthink. He had a job to do here and that should be his priority.

There was no rule saying he needed to put a label on Yane right this moment. Megumi didn’t have to respond to her in the same way she did for him. He only needed to be himself, and something told him that if he didn’t, Yane would have a lengthy complaint to send him.

For now, she hadn’t asked him to be anything to her, and that meant he could take time to get to know her and solve the walking puzzle that she was.

He stretched and went over the text message between them on his phone. Somehow Megumi found slightly more excited about going to Jujutsu High now than he was a few days before.

Chapter Text

Megumi smelled food before he saw it.

He found himself staring at the open file when he opened his eyes. Half of the pages were flipped and tucked under the kraft cover.

He pushed himself up from the table, rolling his neck and registered the morning sound. 

He checked the documents. No drool on them. Good. Megumi would never hear the end of it if Gojo found out he left something as lame as a drool mark on official documents.

It took him a solid two minutes to process his surroundings again. Morning really wasn’t his thing.

He was in Gojo’s room. The bed was kept as it was, without a trace of anyone using it. The coffee cup on the table had been empty for a few hours, the beverage dried into crusty lines of brown at the bottom of the cup.

He sniffed and checked the clock. 

Five in the morning , Megumi noted, in his lingering grogginess. 

It was too early for sunrise. Any early light was just a hue of indigo on the window’s glass. His mind took its time to warm the engine until another whiff of warm, freshly made food shocked his senses into their usual keenness.

He descended down the staircase idly, surprised to hear a soft greeting coming out from the kitchen before he reached the last step.

“Good morning, Megumi-kun.”

Yane turned around, looking better than the day before. Colours had fully returned to her face, and even though with her eyes still bandaged, she must have felt good enough if she was up and cooking.

Megumi joined her at the stove, taking out a tray to portion their breakfast. Yane handed him two bowls of rice as she spoke.

“Did I wake you?” 

“No, the food did.” Megumi took the ladle from her and replaced Yane at the miso soup pot. Her hand hovering over the steaming pot was giving him strong anxiety. “I’ll do it.”

Yane uttered a quick thanks as she gave way for him, instead taking two plates out of the cabinet and stacking them with a generous amount of shredded cabbage. Megumi raised his brow when he saw her channel a thin layer of cursed energy around the knife as she cut up pickled purple cucumber with a speed that was ramping up his anxiety by the second.

Every time the blade got within a few millimetres of her knuckles, he held his breath. Unbeknownst to his concern, Yane spoke in a cheerful voice:   

“Megumi-kun, are you okay with ginger?”

He nodded, then remembered her compromised vision, and corrected it with words. “I do.”

“I had a feeling,” Yane chuckled. “There’s a distinct taste in your food. Since you’re leaving for Saitama tomorrow, I thought it would be nice to make something you like before you leave.”

She passed the plates to him, and Megumi filled them with the stir-fried chicken ginger before setting them down on the tray. He let Yane open the door so he could carry the food to the table in the middle of the living room. A light clack echoed in the empty house when he set the tray down on the sturdy table’s surface.

His heartbeat grew louder as he sat, and Yane took her usual seat across from him. Not only did she use her energy on the knife, she had moved to cover the entire surface of half the food with a hovering layer of cursed energy.

“Thank you for the food,” she said and picked up her chopsticks.

It was as though Yane couldn’t see, or didn’t care what fine control she was displaying. Was all Gojo’s students extremely nonchalant or oblivious of their mastery? It would have made sense, being around someone his level. This much experience and skill would have been expected, natural even.

Nonetheless, it was unnerving to see. 

Megumi followed, opting to take a sip of the miso soup first. As soon as the warmth and savoury taste of the miso hit his tongue, his senses were refreshed. He took another sip, recognising the taste of carrot and konjac, especially with the latter, he didn’t find the peculiar aftertaste signature in the case it was hastily prepared.

“Did you boil the konjac?” 

The question blurted out without his permission.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Yane grinned with pride. “I copied it from Inumaki-kun. Maki didn’t like konjac, but she ate it just fine when Inumaki-kun made it. I supposed it was the aftertaste.”

“Maki? Zen’in?” Megumi asked as he placed the chicken on top of the pleasantly warm rice and ate both in one bite. 

He couldn’t bury a smile. The subtle spiciness of the ginger and deep flavour of the chicken paired perfectly with the hint of sweetness in the rice. Megumi reached for a bite of cabbages, knowing full well the vegetable would be a refreshing reset for his palette.

Yane set her bowl down and headed to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of cold oolong tea.

“You know Maki?” she said.

Yane poured two cups full and brought them over.

Megumi took his drink with gratitude, “I saw her once when I was a kid. Apparently, my dad was a Zen’in.”

“Oh, I didn’t know!” Yane resumed the meal with her soup. “So, are you two cousins?”

“Aunt and nephew, I believe.”

Megumi flinched when he saw Yane nearly spat the soup back into the bowl. She looked flustered as she fanned the embarrassment out of her face.

“Sorry about that. Just a bit surprised is all. The Zen’in clan must be quite big, huh?”

As if realising she had said something strange, Yane searched her vicinity like common sense was lying around before taking  a big  sip of the tea to cool down. 

Megumi didn’t mind. 

“I’m just being silly,” Yane defended. “Maki is a good friend. More like an older sister to be honest. Just… knowing that she’s your aunt makes me feel like I’m your aunt or something.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I know,” Yane laughed.

Though the Zen’in wasn’t noteworthy in his book beside their scale, it was pleasant to see Yane finding the sheer size and number of members of the clan amusing.

Smiling suits her , he decided.

Megumi waited for the silence to start setting in before he asked again.

“So, you two are  close?”

“Me and Maki?” Yane’s face brightened as she spoke. “All of us first–I mean second-years are. There are two more in our group besides Yuta, Inumaki-kun and Panda-kun.”

The word ‘panda’ stirred his imagination a little, but the name Inumaki piqued Megumi’s interest. As far as he remembered from what Gojo had told him, the Inumaki clan produced cursed speech users, but it wasn’t the clan’s ability that had struck his curiosity. It was the way Yane seemed to be blushing slightly as she mentioned the name.

Megumi frowned and took a sip of his tea as well. To cool down , he assured himself though nothing she had said was funny or embarrassing for him.

“School seems fun for you,” he said.

Yane practically beamed at the comment before her expression softened into contentment.

“It is. I hope that once you enter the school you’ll have good friends too, Megumi-kun. Then I’ll bring snacks for you to share with them!”

“I’m fine as is,” Megumi mumbled.

He hadn’t given much thought about friends. His goal at Jujutsu High was neither friends nor snacks. Sorcerers died at inopportune time. Having friends simply meant having more people that would be erased from his life without notice.

He sighed. On that note, it might have been too late for him when it came to Yane.

Megumi didn’t even want to think about one day he might see her corpse or learn of her untimely death. He couldn’t decide which was worse between the two. Another unplanned question came out before he could stop it.

“Yane-senpai, are you strong?”

Yane hummed as she grabbed a piece of chicken with her chopsticks. She must be the first sorcerer he had seen to use cursed energy to locate food.

“Not as much as I want to be,” Yane answered.

Megumi frowned at the vague nature of her words. “That doesn’t really answer my question though.”

“I guess it doesn’t, huh?” she laughed playfully. Times like this she was annoyingly similar to Gojo.  “Maybe it’s easier for me to show you. Let’s finish breakfast first.”

Megumi verbally agreed. 

In all honesty, he came to Gojo’s house because the man told him Yane was in ‘big, big trouble’ and that she was ‘really, really hurt’ but in Megumi’s eyes, aside from the first few hours that he had first arrived and saw the bandages, Yane appeared just fine. She was much too competent for someone who was ‘really, really hurt’ and in ‘big, big trouble’.

How much more competent would she be as an uninjured sorcerer?

Gojo wouldn’t just train anyone. He was too lazy for that. Yet, he made an exception for Yane. 

It could have been because he was trying to keep an eye on her considering her lineage, but from the way Gojo looked at Yane, Megumi was willing to bet there was more to it than sheer monitoring of a person of interest. Compared to the last time they met on his birthday; her cursed energy control was better. She seemed calmer as well, like she had matured a great deal over the short amount of time they hadn’t met.

“I might be a bit excited about seeing your ability as a sorcerer, Yane-senpai.”

“Goodness,” she laughed, covering her mouth as she looked away and reached for the tea. “I ought to not disappoint my underclassman then.”

Megumi’s face grew warm. In the rising sun, which revealed Yane’s smile a little clearer and a bit prettier than usual, he thought, as the light brightened up the living room, that it would have been nice if the weekends had more days than just two.

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” Megumi warned as he got into stance.

Yane nodded and prepared herself as well. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

With her confidence and her bandages, she looked eerily similar to Gojo. It was at most three weeks after the last time they had talked, so why had Yane felt so intimidating now standing before him when she was round like a well-fed chick in her puffer jacket, knit scarf, and gloves? What had happened since Christmas?

She lunged at him and Megumi flinched, startled by his registration of a thin cursed energy wave.

He put his arms together, ready to block the incoming punch, but Yane unfurled her fist, and pushed past his defence.

Megumi slipped to the side, getting himself out of her range.

They exchanged punches and kicks but none of them seemed to be bothering Yane the way he thought it would. She wasn’t relaxed about it but she wasn’t stressed either. 

The lack of sight somehow provided her with a more focused vision. Megumi recalled the way she covered the knife and her share of food with cursed energy.

Yane snapped her head towards Megumi’s direction, throwing even more attacks at him. He did what he could to block them, but it felt like every time he blocked one of her attacks, Yane was already ready to lunge at him with the next one.

The speed was a problem, not the power. Yane wasn’t trying to overpower him like Gojo usually would. If anything it was the opposite. She attacked like she was testing him, searching for an opening, forcing him to create an opening.

She was slowly pushing him towards a corner and once his back touched the wall and he couldn’t run, then Yane would throw the final blow. She was saving up energy for when it really mattered.

An annoying tactic indeed, if not too fitting for her. It must have been Gojo’s influence.

Megumi let out a quiet exhale and recomposed himself. Yane certainly seemed sure enough about her attack. They weren’t just accurately aimed at him, they changed at her will. If this was her ability with injuries, what would she be like without? 

“Megumi-kun?” Yane turned around. “You’re okay?”

“Yes,” he said and threw a punch at her.

Yane deflected it with her hand. She spun out of his sight.

Megumi swished around, pushing his elbow towards her direction. As though Yane had read his move, she caught it, hooking her arm over his and pulling him to the ground with the momentum.

She grinned from above, casting shadow over his view while she offered her hand.

“It’ll be fun to train together later on,” she said. “Maki would have a field day with you.”

“Is that a good thing?” Megumi asked as he took her hand.

He patted the dirt and snow out of his clothes and watched Yane take off her scarf, offering it an arm-swing off from his direction. When she wasn’t fighting, it was like Yane was back to her current disadvantageous lack of object permanence.

Realisation hit him.

Yane must have had some kind of technique that allowed her to ‘see’ when she couldn’t physically see. Like how bats and whales did. Only that it worked for cursed energy users, or cursed energy as a whole. That would explain her accuracy.

“It’s always nice to be trained by Maki,” said Yane. “She’s a great trainer. Even Yuta got a few bruises from her.”

“Okkotsu-senpai? Really?”

Yane grinned, “You bet. I’m probably the worst out of the group.”

Megumi frowned. If she was the worst, then what kind of monsters would he be dealing with once he entered the school?

Oblivious to his worries, Yane felt her way back to the house and climbed back into the living room. She looked like a duckling almost, completely harmless, the total opposite of the relentless pursuer she was just moments ago.

“Careful,” Megumi sighed when he heard a yelp coming from inside following a quiet thud.

“I’m fine,” Yane yelled out. “The wall isn’t though.”

Megumi shook his head and cracked a smile.

“Sure.” He walked to the house. “I’ll get the wall some ointment so it doesn’t bruise later.” 

He walked in on Yane later that day opening a black leather case. It was the same case Megumi saw her carry on the day they met and on his birthday. Seeing that she brought it everywhere with her, he had guessed the content to be important.

Megumi wiped his hand on the apron before taking it off and hung it by the door. The morning went by in a flash with their little spar and then his summary of the research material for Yane.

He approached, kneeling next to her as the weapon fully showed itself in the sunlight. It was a crimson bow, about two metres long, clearly too large a weapon for someone of Yane’s height. The surface of it looked dated but the unmistakable shine it carried was evident of the weapon’s prowess against time.

He leaned closer, examining the material.

“Don’t touch it okay?”

Yane’s words sent him flinching backwards. Megumi glanced over to her, reminded by the bandages on her eyes that she must have been using her technique. Only that he didn’t know what it was.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Do you have something similar to Six Eyes?”

The question drew a startled laugh from Yane.

“Oh, I’m different from Gojo-sensei,” she said. “But I’m kinda happy that I made you think that way.”

Megumi straightened his back, “I wasn’t trying to touch it.”

Yane smiled and waved her hand like she was denying the insinuation in what Megumi said. She traced her fingers over the body of the bow carefully in the same manner one would exhibit when manoeuvring around soap bubbles.

“I’m not trying to hog the bow or anything,” she explained. “It belonged to the Hama clan so there’s a chance you might be hurt if you touch it, Megumi-kun.”

“I see,” he said, his curiosity increased.

“Also, you’re half right,” Yane continued. “I can ‘see’ you, but I can’t see you, unlike Gojo-sensei. Honestly, I don’t know where the ability came from since it was more like sensei showed me how to do it. But it only applies to cursed energy, nothing else. That said, it doesn’t work with my naked eyes.”

“Does that mean you can’t see cursed spirits?”

Yane nodded ruefully, “Pretty much, yeah. So it’s either I see cursed energy with my eyes closed, or nothing at all with them open.”

Megumi mulled quietly, processing the information. He couldn’t quite imagine not seeing cursed energy and cursed spirits. It was such a normal occurrence to him that the idea of viewing the world the way Yane did felt out of place, like switching rapidly between different lenses.

It made Megumi dizzy. His doubt perked, thinking back to the picture he sent her on Christmas.

“Do you see cursed spirits in photos?”

Yane shook her head and he felt his heart shrank a little. So, what had she really seen in the photo from him? Just a random neighbourhood? 

Megumi put his hands together, calling Shiro.

“Senpai,” he said. “Lend me your hand for a bit.”

She held her hand out towards him and Megumi guided it to the shikigami. As soon as her palm brushed over the white fur of the Divine Dog, Yane gasped, putting her other hand on it.

“Did–did Gojo-sensei keep a pet in the estate? Where did you get this–” her hands moved about, defining the shape before she said– “dog?”

“No, Gojo-san doesn’t have a pet.” 

Megumi pouted. So, she clearly hadn’t seen the photo of the divine dogs he sent. The only thing she had seen was probably just some alley. Yet somehow, she had made that puzzling phone call about courage and all. He summoned Kuro who curiously sniffed before brushing his face against Yane’s cheek.

She giggled at the touch, turning to the black Divine Dog, and burying her face into its fur, leaving the white one whining.

“They’re my shikigamis,” Megumi explained, petting Shiro who seemed satisfied to finally receive some attention.

Yane’s smile widened. “What do they look like?”

Megumi watched her playing with Kuro, an unexpected smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Both the Divine Dog’s glossy fur and Yane’s jet-black hair glistened in the sun, the strands of her hair like deep obsidian. 

He had thought the cheerful demeanors she displayed over the time they spent together was normal, but only now when Megumi witnessed the genuine laughter that the Divine Dogs managed to draw out of her that he noticed a dullness to her prior joy.

It wouldn’t have been too far-fetched. Neither Yane nor Gojo told him what exactly happened around Christmas, but it was evident that the experience took away the usual carefree nature Megumi thought was abundant in Yane.

He drew in a quiet breath so she wouldn’t sense the growing negative feelings in him.

Seeing her now, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was possible to bring that carefree nature back to its original state and if he would be able to do such a thing.

Megumi sat back, his hands stopped absentmindedly on Shiro and he stole a look at Yane, flabbergasted by his own unexpected arrogance.

Who was he to want her to feel a bit more genuine in her happiness? 

They hadn’t even known each other for that long. Megumi would have never allowed himself to think that way about anyone he knew twice longer than he did her.

What exactly had driven him to want Yane to be happy? Or had he simply wanted her to not hide her discomfort in front of him?

Sadness and anger weren’t emotions widely accepted by non-sorcerer even though they produced more of those than a sorcerer would; but to demand a show of that from Yane when she hadn’t initiated the conversation felt like an invasion of privacy.

Then again, would she tell him about what had happened? They were practically strangers.

Megumi kept the questions locked within and distracted himself by giving Yane a verbal description of the Divine Dogs. At the very least, he could provide her with more real comfort if he couldn’t lessen the negativity.

“The one you have on your right is black, and this one on your left is white,” he said. “They’re twins and quite big in size.”

Yane shook with excitement as she tried to wrap her arm around Kuro.

“It’s so soft!” she squealed. “And they are big. I can barely hold them.”

Kuro didn’t seem to mind her sudden hug, if anything, he was slightly leaning into it, making Shiro perk up from Megumi’s lap with longing eyes.

Megumi let go of Shiro and allowed it to tread up to Yane, rubbing its face against her arm until its head slipped underneath her and she laughed, struggling to hug them both.

“I’ll go buy some snacks before we get back to the research. I think we could start working on analysing your ability and techniques as well.”

Yane turned to him with a sad smile.

“Okay, I’ll wait here. You can take the shikigami back, Megumi-kun. Thank you. You don’t have to waste your cursed energy like this.”

Megumi frowned. There were things he wanted to say about how she worded that, but he held his tongue on the matter and instead resorted to something gentler. 

“It’s fine. Calling them doesn't take that much from me. I’ll take them back once I return. Can you keep an eye on them for me?”

Yane’s face brightened at the suggestion, “Okay!”

Her lively response made him blush. 

He couldn’t understand her after all. One minute she was talking about death and sorcery, the next she was playing around with shikigami like they were any old regular dogs. 

Well, they were dogs, but the point was far from discussing his non-canine canine companions. 

Megumi closed the door behind him as he headed for the estate entrance. Maybe he’ll get something a bit sweet this time, seeing how Yane seemed like she had a sweet tooth.

A quick thought passed through his mind. Maybe one day he’ll show her the Rabbit Escape.

Megumi chuckled, thinking how flustered Yane would be once she realised there were so many fluffy things around her that she couldn’t hold all of them. Now, that would be quite a scene.

Night fell fast and soundless in the winter.

Ijichi sat in the car, sipping on his warm coffee as he went through his tablet to-do list, and enjoying the rare few moments of escape from his senior.

He ticked off a few tasks he had finished or delegated to other members in his team from the list before checking the time.

The last few days had been horrible. 

He was stuck in a constant drive across the entire Tohoku region with little to no rest. Satoru Gojo was a man fully capable of staying up for two days straight and he was convinced others would be perfectly capable of doing the same. 

The problem was that Ijichi was not, and even though he knew his senior was in a rush, he couldn’t understand what had possessed Gojo to work at such a breakneck speed all of the sudden.  

He flinched when the car door swung open and Gojo entered so crudely he might as well have thrown himself onto the seat like a sack of rice.

A phone call came for Gojo as soon as the door closed.

Ijichi lowered the hand brake and shifted gears, pulling the car out of its parking space.

“Ah, Yane-chan? What’s going on? You’re still awake at this hour?”

His attention drew to the familiar name. 

Come to think of it, after the ‘little scuffle’ as Gojo described it, Ijichi hadn’t met directly with the young Hamada girl. He had heard quite a bit of complaints from the executives about Gojo’s behaviours and impulsive actions, however. That was a difficult conversation to get out of unscathed.

‘Control him,’ they had said, as though they truly believed Ijichi was capable of something they weren’t.

But that was also business as usual.

Ijichi knew it was his job to smooth things over. For better or worse, Gojo was not a man who acted without a purpose no matter how many times he led his circle to believe in the exact opposite. And that was a few times too many for Ijichi’s comfort.

“Oh, you’re feeling better?” Gojo said. “Okay. Oh, no. The other backup had work anyway so they bailed on me and I don’t think principal Yaga would let me steal one of his cursed corpses. No matter. My work ended early so I’m coming back anyway–Oh? Glasses? Sure.”

Ijichi frowned as he listened, remembering all the approvals he had scrambled to get that day his senior called out of the blue, not for a New Year greeting but for a request to arrange Yane a two-month stay at his estate. 

Another one of his senior antics, or so he concluded at the time.

But he caught glances of Gojo on the phone through the rear-view mirror, and Ijichi was convinced otherwise. 

He seemed lost in his own world as he spoke, his expression softened along with his voice. Gojo had always sounded like he didn’t take everything seriously, but there was no hidden burden while he talked to the Hamada girl.

Ijichi shuddered.

No burden at all even though Gojo had just returned from tracking down and executing one of Hama's survivors. Ever since he personally instructed Ijichi to search for those survivors, Ijichi had somewhat expected the executives to get wind of the request.

And they had. 

And as soon as they had, the execution order hadn’t taken long to be processed. The executioner role as well, was swiftly decided. Gojo’s order was simple: to find out as much as he could about the clan’s technique, or kill anyone unable to provide the information.

Gojo had obeyed the order without qualm. It was spooky to see him so obedient. Like the calm before a storm.

Given the tight security of Jujutsu High and the improvement in Yane’s combat ability, Ijichi had suspected the Hama clan might be back-walking their plan to recapture her and switching to replace her with a new cursed tool.

It hadn’t been a good day when his suspicion was substantiated.

One of their targets let slip their plan to kill Yane and immediately Gojo arranged for her to stay at his home.

Two months should be enough, he had declared and plunged himself into the hunt and doubled Ijichi’s workload.

Soon enough, Ijichi couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten some proper shuteye without having to listen to his senior rambling about pretty much just anything on the radio.

Gojo had never let Ijichi see the executions, but he could still count in his head just how many names he had erased from the list during these three days. Gojo’s nonchalant attitude almost came across brazen if not for his increasing displeasure after every execution.

He spoke to Yane Hamada as if they were merely on a shopping trip outside of the prefecture instead of murder. His nerves of steel was not something Ijichi envied or aspired to possess.

Ijichi made a left turn and entered the highway. There were barely any cars on the road at this time, so the sound of Yane’s voice bled through the speaker on a few instances.

“Megumi-kun is asleep. He’ll take the early bus tomorrow,” she said, adding something else inaudible.

Gojo grinned, “You’re welcome.”

Ijichi raised an eyebrow at the smile, then squinted when he saw the smile drop into a deep frown.

“Why him too? It’s his job to follow me around,” said Gojo, giving Ijichi the scare of his life when he sensed Gojo’s attention on him through the mirror before continuing with the call. “All right. Get to bed.”

Suddenly as it started, the phone call ended.

Ijichi kept his eyes glued to the road, holding himself back from prying. He elected to start the conversation about something less controversial, handing Gojo the tablet.

“That seems to be the last of the current survivors that we knew of, I will keep looking into any potential Hama clan members in other regions.”

Gojo browsed the pages on the digital screen. The intensity of his silent focus made Ijichi claustrophobic.

He tugged on his necktie, enough to loosen it but not make him look unkempt.

“Do you have work in the morning?” Gojo asked, crossing his arms as he looked outside.

“No. I’m off until noon,” Ijichi answered honestly. He had a feeling his senior hadn’t asked because he cared.

Gojo huffed and puffed, grumbling something along the lines of a complaint regarding Ijichi’s schedule. Disregarding the absolute unreasonable nature of the complaint, Ijichi pressed.

“Why do you ask, Gojo-san?”

“Breakfast,” Gojo spat. He looked as though he detested the very idea of it. “Yane is making it. So, you too.”

Ijichi took a moment, considering his words. So it wasn’t breakfast that Gojo was so adamantly negative about, but rather the extended invitation.

He wanted so badly to ask about the change in Gojo’s speaking manner. Firstly, why had it been reduced to the broken grammar he had displayed? Secondly, how come he seemed so distressed about the idea of Yane’s goodwill towards Ijichi? And finally, why had he dropped the suffix in her name like he was referring to a family member?

In the end, Ijichi decided against saying anything confrontational and settled to appreciate the invitation.

“I’d love to join you two,” he said and pressed a little harder on the gas.

It wouldn’t be proper to keep Yane waiting, especially since she was cooking for them. Ijichi went through the list of tasks left in his head. Maybe he could shift some of them around and prioritise the Hama clan investigation. That shouldn’t be too much trouble for him.

He decided the arrangement was good enough for gratitude and reminiscenced about the time Yane was sitting where Gojo was. It seemed the cowering girl from that day was giving her best to find her own way and be brave.

How commendable , Ijichi thought and activated the turn signal, taking them off the highway and enroute to the Gojo clan’s estate. 

Chapter Text

“So, you’re not in control of all of your shikigami either,” Yane hummed meaningfully.

She reached for the pitcher and refilled Megumi’s cup, smiling when she heard him mumble a thank you.

It finally sunk in that he was leaving. Within the span of two days, Yane had grown used to Megumi’s constant presence in the house. The little frustrated sigh that he made when he was stumbling over ancient Japanese writings, the little tut which came out of him whenever Yane avoided his attack in training, and the gradually relaxed tone in his voice had all become a part of her daily sounds.

Truth to be told, if it wasn’t for his attendance, Yane would have worked out some excuse to keep him in the villa. But the spark of guilt burned whenever that impulse surfaced and she would quietly scold herself. It wouldn’t be fair to risk his academic results. The deal was that he took care of her, not her burdening him.

“There’s a distinct hand sign to each of the shikigamis,” Megumi explained. He put Yane’s hands together into a shadow dog sign. “This is the sign for Divine Dogs.”

When he retracted his hands, something soft snuck under her palm. Yane giggled at the familiar scent.

“Hello there,” she said and scratched Shiro’s ear. Even though both brought from shadow and half of a duo, Shiro and Kuro carried their own distinct traits. One of them, a lot more eager for attention, the other, smelled a lot more floral.

Yane turned to Megumi. “Which is your strongest shikigami?”

“The Divine General,” he said and released Shiro in the same beat.

Megumi reached out and took Yane’s arms, lifting them forward before directing her hands into fists.

“Unlike the others, he isn’t manifested with shadowhand,” he explained, “but incantation.”

“So, he’s special.”

Megumi nodded.

“Not a single user of my technique managed to tame and control him.”

Yane gasped, “Ever?”

“Ever.”

The information came as a surprise to her. Megumi was clearly a genius. Based on how he completely translated the ancient text on her clan’s history despite vaguely complaining about the difficulty. There was no doubt that he had the ability to analyse, adapt, and overcome any kind of obstacles put in front of him. Two days, and he managed to deflect some of Yane’s attacks already.

She was under the impression that all past users of his technique, just like Megumi, would all be geniuses, considering how versatile the technique itself could be. But to think that none of them had managed to tame the same shikigami through generations, then The Divine General must be really strong. Still, if Megumi was aware of the previous users’ experience, that would mean he had something to go off of–a kind of reference material. He could do what Yane was trying to do,  and knowing him, succeeded at it too.

“Maybe, you can be the first one to do it,” she said with a smile. “Gojo-sensei might be able to give you some pointers.”

“As if.”

“You never know!” Yane insisted. “He’s helping me now. You’re helping me now. If the Divine General really is that strong, he would be a valuable asset in a fight.”

She leaned towards Megumi, poking him in the arm.

“And you are strong,” she grinned. “I can tell. We’ve only sparred a few times, but I can tell. Trust me! Divine General and whatnot had better look out.”

“Sure,” Megumi sighed but when Yane heard it, the sigh sounded more like a breathy laughter. “Definitely whatnot.”

He stood and she heard his backpack rustling.

“I mean it,” Yane joined him with an umbrella, walking towards the villa entrance.

They stood before the threshold, Megumi holding the umbrella they shared. The snow hadn’t let up since Yane began her stay at the Gojo’s estate and it wasn’t looking as though it would stop any time soon either.

Unfortunately, that also meant Megumi would need to depart earlier to avoid any unforeseen traffic problems forcing him to miss school.

“Thank you, Megumi-kun,” Yane said. “I really appreciate your help. And I really liked spending these few days with you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Megumi replied.

She heard footsteps approaching and activated Echolocation. Purple lightning and a dim blue humanoid shape came into existence.

“Oh, Megumi, you’re just leaving?” Satoru greeted him.

“Would you like a ride?” Ijichi added, but Megumi shook his head.

“I’ll just take a taxi,” he said, gesturing with his head to Satoru. “He will be paying for it.”

It wasn’t a question. Yane noted the slight edge of pressure in Megumi’s answer. He was probably the only one she knew besides Maki who would recognise Satoru’s authority and then proceed to disrespect it right after.

Satoru, ever the jokester, took it more like a light-hearted joke than anything serious.

From his perspective, it probably felt like a pet cat he kept was hissing at him. Out of line, sure, but adorable nonetheless and worthy of forgiveness.

“Sure. Charge it to my card,” Satoru said. “I’ll just ask the school for a reimbursement later.”

“That’s not–” Ijichi started but Satoru put a hand on his shoulder and Ijichi sounded like he just choked.

Yane considered stepping in and helping the poor assistant out but that would only drag the conversation on and Megumi might be running late because of it. She settled with letting Ijichi handle Satoru himself (he had always done so quite well anyway), and approached Megumi.

He tried to hand her back the umbrella but she shook her hand and pushed it back towards him. Megumi didn’t fight her and Yane smiled.

“Again, thank you. Be careful on the way back.”

“Got it,” Megumi said and for a moment it looked as though he was leaving but then it became clear to Yane that Megumi was stuck in his motion, hesitant for whatever reason.

He turned around quickly and in a quiet voice which could have been easily hidden by the volume of Satoru whining about Ijichi’s nagging as they headed towards the villa, Megumi said:

 “Take care. And I also enjoyed talking to you too. Thanks.”

He shuffled away quickly and Yane stood, blankly stared at his retreating back.

The top of her head was getting cold from the snow but she couldn’t find it in her to leave before he completely disappeared behind the sharp turn at the end of the road.

The smile on her face stayed on the entire time. The implication that Megumi had had fun during their short time together was the best news she had heard in days. After learning of Yahiro’s existence and especially after the failure with open-eye Echolocation, Yane hadn’t been having the best of time.

With her past exposed to Megumi, her anxiety skyrocketed.

Despite all that, Megumi had fun around her, and he chose to share with her something as sensitive as the details of his cursed techniques. That, to Yane, meant trust–the kind of trust she would never dare to betray. Megumi most likely would only think of these few days as him stepping in to do a nice thing. He couldn’t have possibly imagined what it had meant for Yane.

She turned around and returned to the villa. Ijichi and Satoru had already settled in at the living room table when she entered.

Yane dipped her head at the assistant and said:

“Please make yourself at home. I’ll get you some tea and snacks before I get started with the food. It’s nothing fancy but I hope it suits your palette.”

“Ijichi doesn’t want snacks,” Satoru stated like he was simply reciting a fact. “But I will have the snack.”

Yane shrugged with a chuckle before she started the kettle and retrieved the three-coloured tea gateau chocolat from the sweet cabinet. Somehow, it wasn’t strange at all that Satoru had a dedicated cabinet fully stocked with high-quality sweets.

She divided the gateau into two small plates and poured out the tea, setting everything into a tray.

“Thank you,” Ijichi said quickly when he saw her enter.

He rose and took the tray.

“Megumi-kun bought this,” Yane explained. “He left the receipt in the cupboard for you, sensei.”

Satoru mumbled, “I thought as much. Hey, Ijichi, hand over one of yours. I’m paying so I should get more.”

Yane blinked, “I don’t think that’s how it works, sensei…”

“It’s fine, Hamada-san,” Ijichi said.

Yane lingered for a moment just in case. Spending enough time with her friends, she had come to finally register Satoru’s tendencies as childish. Maki told her it was more a mixture of selfish and insufferable, but Yane refused to believe it was something as simple as that. Yes, it was certainly unusual for him to call dibs on more food because he was paying since none of Yane’s friends had made such a statement before. But Satoru was Satoru, and he could get away with a lot in Yane’s book. Plus, Ijichi didn’t seem to mind.

So instead of arguing the point, Yane nodded and returned to the kitchen.

Since Satoru had an extra cut of the gateau, he probably wouldn’t mind a little less side dish then.

Between the two of them, Ijichi looked more like he wasn’t eating well or enough anyway.

Breakfast had been going well until Yane made a mistake.

Satoru hadn’t realised that his share of the Nikujaga had slightly less meat than that for Ijichi. Ijichi had been perfectly content with the simmered food, accepting Yane’s explanation about her eyes for the lack of fried and baked dishes. 

They had only been talking about mundane mission logistics or cursed spirits’ variety which had proven to be quite interesting for Yane to listen in on. One could never know too many things about life-threatening adversaries.

All was going great until some stupid little part in her brain reminded her of the promotion request she submitted just before the end of the year. Yane rested her chopstick and waited for a beat before she asked.

“Was there any news about my promotion request? I haven’t been able to come to class because of the incident with my eyes.”

Ijichi made a sound like he choked on his miso soup.

Yane frowned, already feeling as though the clump of rice she just swallowed was stuck half-way down her stomach.

“I take it that it wasn’t good?”

“Yes,” Ijichi admitted. “Your request was denied.”

She bit the inside of her cheeks. “Did they say why?”

Ijichi was quiet. Satoru, however, was not.

“Shouldn’t be a surprise. Isn’t it the same reason as Maki’s?”

Yane waited for Ijichi to refute but he didn’t. She reached for the tea cup and downed it in one go. The cold tea did nothing. The bottom of her stomach still burnt as though she had swallowed hot coals.

The breakfast’s atmosphere lost its warmth after that. There was no other sound besides that of chopsticks tapping against plates and bowls, and the humming of winds outside the house against the window glasses.

Even after the meal, they didn’t really talk.

Against Satoru’s advice, Yane joined him to see Ijichi off. Her dissatisfaction had subsided somewhat now that she was no longer burning with the desire to punch something. Or more precisely, there was no viable target in the vicinity on which she could release her attack.

Ijichi was no more than a messenger–a messenger who precisely answered her question. If anything it was more Yane’s fault than his that the atmosphere of the breakfast had soured. 

But she just couldn’t bring herself to appear less agitated. First her eyes, now the promotion request. What was next?

“Ijichi-san,” she called, right before he could open the car door. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Ijichi turned around. She couldn’t tell what sort of look he had on his face but he didn’t sound the least bit offended.

“The nikujaga is a really versatile dish, isn’t it?” he said. “It isn’t fancy-looking, but it’s very fulfilling. And it's very difficult to not taste good.”

“I suppose so?”

Ichiji approached. When he was close enough for Yane to see his face slightly clearer, she realised he had an empathetic smile.

“It’s a reliable kind of food,” he continued. “Always reminds me of the warmth from home and makes me feel better any time I eat it.”

Yane hesitated, “I’m… glad to hear?”

Ijichi was silent for a short beat before he spoke again and his attention was undoubtedly on her.

“Nikujaga isn’t luxurious. The name itself was pretty mediocre too, but it’s reliable, Hamada-san.”

He took another step towards her.

“It’s reliable .”

“Okay,” Satoru said as Yane felt something pull her from behind. “Go back to work, Ijichi. It’s time for Yane-chan’s training now. And don’t forget to put her class material on my desk when you get to school.”

He turned Yane around and pushed her back towards the villa despite her protest.

“You didn’t even let me say goodbye! He was still talking.”

“He talked enough,” Satoru grumbled. “Who is he comparing to food? Are you going to rest so your body can recover or are those eyes of yours going to magically heal tomorrow?”

Yane crossed her arms, “They’re getting better. A lot better.”

“Not by a lot,” corrected Satoru. “Don’t underestimate my Six Eyes.”

“What about training then?” she refuted. “You said it’s time for my training.”

Satoru snorted, “I lied. Now, move your legs or I will hoist you up by your head.”

“Your hand isn’t big enough for that.”

“Wanna bet?”

Yane squealed and laughed when she felt Satoru’s fingers gripping down on the top of her head. Times like this he didn’t feel like a teacher. Just someone that made her feel secure and happy.

He was just family.

“Come on,” he offered her his hand and they re-entered the villa.

Yane held on to it as they stood in front of the living room. She hadn’t wanted to let Satoru go yet. She hadn’t realised until now that there was a distinct sort of warmth his presence brought. She hadn’t realised how long those two days had been without the sound of his voice inside the villa. 

Satoru must have sensed it too because he crouched in front of her like the day she was imprisoned and waited for Yane to speak.

When he noticed she wasn’t, he spoke instead.

“Did you have fun?”

She nodded, “Megumi-kun is a nice kid. He’ll be a very good sorcerer.”

“He sure will,” Satoru cackled. “I don’t just choose anyone to be my student. Same goes for you.”

Yane chuckled. Of course. Satoru was the first one to choose her. Despite his complaints about not liking anything complicated and his questionable attitude at times, he stuck his neck out and helped her through all the troubles thrown in her way. He gave Yane choices–possibilities–and provided her with the resources to see those choices through.

She laughed through her nose.

“I guess sensei really was born to be a sensei.”

Satoru snorted, “Where’d that come from?”

Yane shrugged, “I don’t know. Just felt like it.”

She let go of the cuff of his sleeve and sat, watching the snow falling in the sunlight. They sparkled like crystals when the light hit a sharp angle on the snowflake.

“You knew about the promotion paper, didn’t you?” Yane said. “You knew when I first got here.”

“I did,” Satoru admitted.

“And I bet I’m on some kind of suspension, aren’t I?”

“Technically I’m supposed to keep watch on you,” he answered.

The lack of missions, the lack of contact from the school even though she was absent. Had it not been for the fortunate incident with her eyes, Yane might have realised it faster. She would have thought of it as suspicious faster.

Satoru had done a great job keeping her mind off the circumstance with training, but after a few days, it would have been stranger had Yane not suspected anything.

In his own way, he was doing everything he could to protect her from the backlash of Yahiro’s action.

Yane’s chest warmed at the thought.

“Did you know that everyone seemed a little bit different to me on Echolocation?” she asked and listened to Satoru’s intrigued hum. 

She turned to him.

“You looked like purple lightning.”

“That sounds cool.”

Yane shook her head, “Not to me.”

“You don’t like lightning?”

Once again, she shook her head. Her mind wandered to the dark and damp space of her old room where it was always too cold or too hot, never just right.

“I love it.” Yane hugged her legs. “Back when I was still in my house, it was always really dark at night. I especially hate it when it rains. The downpour always made me anxious and I think I was really scared of thunder. They were loud.”

Satoru listened without interrupting, but he left Yane’s side for a quick moment and retrieved a blanket for her. She gave him a grateful smile and continued:

“Every time it rains I would look at the sky and I would wait. If I see lightning, it means that thunder was coming. So I knew when to block my ears. I’d look and, with my hands on my ears, I’d count when I see flashes.

She grinned.

“The longer it takes for me to hear thunder, the further danger is from me. Lightning wasn’t cool for me. I feel safe when I see it. Kinda like when I’m with you, sensei.”

 Satoru might have been the strongest sorcerer alive but he wasn’t omnipotent. As the head of the Gojo clan, as a teacher at Jujutsu High, he was bound by certain duties and rules. Rules that when violated could result in immediate execution and how many lives would it take to execute Satoru Gojo?

Strength wasn’t the only thing that mattered. One’s role was arguably just as crucial to navigate this world. Satoru knew his role. He knew the consequences that awaited if he abused it.

“Yuta told me that being a second-grade sorcerer would make me stronger. Looks like that’ll have to wait for a while.”

“Strength comes in different forms,” said Satoru.

“Not really convincing coming from the strongest sorcerer, sensei.”

He laughed. It rang in the hollow tone of longing.

“You could have the kind of strength that no one can win against. Brute force. Or, you could just pass for a better than the average sorcerer but no one dared to touch you. No one could stop you. No one could tell you what to do.”

“If there was someone like that, I’d like to meet them,” Yane scoffed.

“There is,” Satoru said. “Nowhere near average in terms of strength, but that wasn’t the root of his influence. He was my friend.”

Yane gasped, “Sensei, you had friends?”

She yelped right after Satoru smacked her lightly upside the head. He didn’t use his full force. Nothing more than a friendly warning to not tease her elders. Had he used his full power, Yane’s head would have been rolling around somewhere outside the entire estate by now.

“Point is you don’t have to take the same road that everyone does,” Satoru patted her back. “Maki didn’t, and you wouldn’t call her weak now, would you? Ranking isn’t the only thing that matters.”

“I guess not,” Yane admitted.

Satoru stood and stretched. For someone so tall and so human, he just seemed like a cat when he stretched. A white Ragdoll cat, perhaps.

“You don’t need to be the strongest,” he said. “That’s my thing. You just need to be who you are, Yane-chan. Reliable. Always be there for your friend and keep them safe. I mean, if your goal is to be a second-grade sorcerer, I could help you out so you reach that level, but that’s only if it’s your goal. Is it?”

“No,” Yane replied. “My goal is a bit higher than that.”

“Then keep your eyes up where you should be looking.”

And she complied, staring at him from where she sat. Him, her goal, untouchable power. She wanted that. Not just the power to protect but the authority to maintain that protection.

You can have it , a voice echoed in her mind. It was guttural and deep. Like a-day-old hunger which just had the first taste of food.

Satoru leaned down, startling her out of her reverie with a forehead flick. Yane frowned.

“Did you teach Yuta to do this as well?”

“Nope.”

“Then how come he does that to me?”

Satoru grinned, “Who knows, maybe you just have a really flickable forehead.”

Yane pouted, crossing her arms as she puffed up her cheeks.

“Stop glaring over my head.” Satoru tousled her hair. “Come along. Let’s get your eyes bandaged and then you can do some meditation before training.”

“So you are training me!” 

She shot to her feet. All of her annoyance cleared like dust in the wind.

“Later,” Satoru said. “Bandage first, then you meditate. And I sleep.”

Yane froze, worry bubbled at the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t see his eyes from behind his blindfold and with her injury, even if Satoru took off his blindfold, she wouldn’t be able to assess his physical status anyway.

Yane knew he slept. All humans did. But hearing him deliberately stating that he needed to rest twisted her stomach in a knot.

She stopped him by his wrist. “Are you okay?” 

Satoru took a beat but he sounded relaxed when he finally spoke and Yane could hear the soft chuckle coming out of him.

“I’m sleepy,” he said. “Just sleepy.”

“Okay,” she let go, choosing to trust him. “I’ll make you some tea when you’re up. There’s still that nice castella in the cabinet. I saved the last bit for you.”

“Call up the front of the house and tell them to get some macarons too.” Satoru instructed as he began with the bandages over her eyes. “And black tea would be nice.”

The delicate touch of the fabric tickled her skin but Yane sat still and waited for him to finish. She could have done it herself, but gave in to her selfishness.

Yane turned around, activating Echolocation as she spoke.

“Okay. Have a good rest, sensei. I’ll see you later.”

Satoru waved as he climbed the stairs, “See you.”

His silhouette eventually disappeared. Her Echolocation was lasting longer now but Yane was hesitant to push her luck. She heard a soft yawn coming from above before the door to his room closed with a quiet click and the house fell silent again.

Yane settled in the living room alone and listened to the stillness of the structure. Then, she blocked everything out and her cursed energy wrapped around her like protective threads.

Time passed differently when she was in her mind.

Yane wouldn’t have noticed how long she spent in meditation until the air felt slightly colder than it should be. When a chill broke her out of her focus, she shuddered and exhaled.

The house was still quiet, which meant Satoru must still be in his sleep.

There was nothing else to tell her of the time besides the darkened room. Yane reached up to the bandages and undid them.

Her breath cut short when the world came into view, clear and undisturbed.

She blinked once, then twice, then many more times when the confusion settled over her like a haunting breath. She gritted her teeth.

The house suddenly became eerie.

Yane wanted to call out to Satoru but she decided against it. She leaned against her cupped hands and tried to sort out her thoughts in the cacophony of her mind.

And she tried to listen in on Yahiro.

But there was nothing.

Just like the feeling of returning to one’s home only to find something missing but they couldn’t put a finger on what, something had happened that sped up her recovery. Yane wasn’t able to perform Reversed Cursed Technique. She had tried to learn and she had failed every single time, so it definitely wasn’t her.

If it wasn’t her, there could only be Yahiro.

Her hand shook and she gripped them tight together.

Don’t be afraid , she told herself. He can’t get to me.

It was her job to monitor herself so he wouldn’t get out of control. Satoru was here. Nothing bad could happen to her to anyone else.

Yane repeated the thought in her mind like a prayer, and she kept at it despite a creepy anxiety that was spreading throughout her body like blood in her vein. She was no longer sure if she had meditated or blacked out, and if it was the latter, then would that mean the Blood Oath didn’t work the way they should?

I’ll just take a look, Yane thought.

Nothing more than just a look to make sure that he stayed where he should. She wouldn’t have to talk to him, she wouldn’t have to use her energy, only check and leave as soon as she confirmed Satoru’s energy was still there.

She closed her eyes, envisioning the mixture of energy within. Three layers, Satoru had said. The image took shape in her mind, coming alive.

Yane regretted it the moment Echolocation took over and the supposedly beautiful layered drink appeared more like a cluster of spinning energy.

Satoru’s signature purple lightning moved like a wall of waves, blocking the bruised red shade of a different, more ominous energy. They looked as though constantly in a game of tag while Yane’s pool of energy sat a teal shade behind Satoru’s purple. The three energies formed a netlike structure, where Yane guessed the gaps were meant for Yahiro’s energy to eventually inhabit.

She closed her hands into fists, feeling the pain of her nails pressing down on her skin.

Her source of cursed energy was much smaller compared to that of Yahiro. As she approached, there was a much stronger force dragging her closer to the blood red mass as if it wished to devour her whole.

Yane pulled away, startled to find Yahiro standing in front of her his arms outstretched the way she remembered him. His eyes glazed with hunger and anticipation.

Pain flared on the top of her head. Yane opened her eyes, looking up. Her breath wavered, and she took a moment to situate herself.

Satoru loomed, casting his shadow over her. He was in his dark pyjamas with his hands in his pockets, looking all innocent, but Yane was willing to bet he had definitely taken a smack at her head.

And not the friendly one he gave out whenever she teased him either. It felt like a warning.

“What were you doing?” he frowned. 

Yane averted her eyes from his striking blue ones. She rubbed the top of her head and rose, moving out of Satoru’s way so she didn’t hit his chin as she stood.

“Meditation… I think. Weren’t you sleeping?”

“I noticed an uninvited guest in my house, so I woke up,” Satoru answered, arms akimbo. “Yane-chan, I told you not to rush.”

She opened her mouth to counter but nothing came out. She wasn’t thinking of rushing anything. The right thing to do would be to wait and tell Satoru about the situation, but fear was an illogical mistress and Yane felt like she was the one in the dark even though Yahiro was the one in hiding. It didn’t help that his evil lair was her body.

Maybe that was why.

Yahiro was good at hiding. She wasn’t. He had the upper hand, watching her from her place she couldn’t reach. The only thing Yane had was uncertainty.

“Did something happen?‘ Satoru’s voice became serious.

Yane gathered the bandages into a roll as she explained her unnaturally speedy recovery to him, waiting with bated breath when she finished and he kept quiet as though he was in deep thought.

“Hasty old f–” he stopped himself and glanced over at Yane. “Your eye colour didn’t change back though.”

Her eyes downcasted.

“I guess it didn’t.”

“No matter,” Satoru said. “Seems your ancestor likes to start fights so let’s show him how we end one. Feeling well enough to train?”

Yane shrugged. “I can see now, so nothing wrong with my body anymore I guess.”

“Good,” Satoru smirked. “This wouldn’t require much physical exertion anyway. Just very fine energy control. Seems you’re getting a good hang of it anyway. I’ll explain this once, so pay attention.”

She nodded, her focus trained on him.

“Here’s the deal” he held up his index finger. “From the way I see it, Yahiro’s energy will always try to pass mine to get to yours–”

“I think I saw that,” Yane explained. “I… saw it with Echolocation.”

Satoru lifted an eyebrow but he nodded– “so when you try to use his energy by bypassing my energy, he’ll definitely try to take over yours.”

“Which means I’ll have to find a way to take his energy without putting myself in danger. Like create a conditional pathway, or a gate–”

“Not just take it,” said Satoru. “Convert it. Assimilate it into your body. Do you remember how it felt when he took over your body?”

She shook her head, but then recalled what had just happened. That forceful pull, that grip on her consciousness. And she made a slow nod, pulling her clothes a bit closer for warmth.

“You do the same thing that he did to you, but little by little. You said you’re able to see your energy structure.”

Yane nodded. “It’s like a spider’s net.”

“Exactly,” Satoru snapped his fingers. “Spider silk. That’s the imagery. Use that flexibility to build a pathway with my energy rather than around it. Then use it to pull out Yahiro’s energy towards your pool.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Start small and slow, Yane-chan. Let your own energy get used to Yahiro’s energy.” Satoru grinned. “Then, twist it down and force it to yield to you. Break his energy down and change it into yours. Give your bastard of an ancestor a taste of his own medicine. He’s not the only Hama in your body.”

Satoru poked her forehead with his finger. The wicked joy on his face drew out a soft chuckle from her. Yane watched him with indulgence As much as anyone, Satoru was enjoying this, and slowly, so was she. The anxiety Yahiro brought fizzled out by the confidence in his trusting gaze. The thought of subduing Yahiro solidified like an electrifying streak of light across a grey downpour sky.

She braced herself and grinned back. “I’m in.”

“Good,” replied Satoru. He stretched his neck. “Let’s go. A sturdier body is better to store more energy. I’ll show you the fastest way to expedite your skill. Practice extracting Yahiro’s energy while you spar me.”

Yane followed his gaze and found the ashen colour of the stone courtyard where they spar in his free time. Satoru wasn’t kidding when he said the training wouldn’t be easy. The second Yane thought she found something new to learn, he doubled the study load.

But it wouldn’t be training with him if it had been easy.

“You’re on,” she said, rushing to the entranceway for her shoes. Unless she looked up, she would never see the path to her goal.

And now, Yane needed to take the first step.

Subduing Yahiro’s energy was no easy feat. Assimilating it into her own energy was an entirely different rank of challenge, especially when Satoru insisted on her doing both while sparring with him.

As the weather became warmer, their spars became more frequent and when Satoru had to leave for his mission their sparring increased in intensity. No rush, he had said. She had better set his pants on fire.

“You’re doing better,” Satoru commented as his punch pushed her sliding back.

Yane’s arms numbed from the impact, shaking as it took whatever force left after her cursed energy lessened the blow. She got back into her stance and charged towards him.

Satoru talked quite a bit during their training, Yane concluded. The added distraction made it even more difficult for her to focus on creating what he had coined ‘cursed straw’ to withdraw Yahiro’s energy safely to hers. It was akin to spinning a thread that could poison her while she had to fend off someone trying to jeopardise the spinning wheel as they talked her ears off.

Multitasking, Yane realised, might not be one of her talents. 

But she got better regardless, though she imagined a snail would move faster than she improved.

When the annoyance and the constant breathlessness of having to handle multiple inputs at the same time faded into daily routine conversion of Yahiro’s energy, Satoru’s chat became more pleasant. 

She borrowed his phone one night to call Maki for her birthday since Satoru informed her that the school was monitoring her phone for the time being as well. That conversation went as well as it could for her situation, but not without Maki issuing a warning that there was a talk to be had when Yane returned to the dorm.

Then before long, January passed. They welcomed February, falling into a comfortable habit of sparing three hours each day, more if Satoru was bored. The assimilation became faster and with that, Yane increased the flow of cursed energy she extracted every time. It always left her feverish after, but nothing a good night sleep wouldn’t fix.

“Are you converting energy?” Satoru walked by, snapping away at a chocolate pocky like a squirrel when he stopped and stared as if studying an interesting test subject. If the Gojo’s family can see their heir’s etiquette now. Maybe that was why he chose to live separately from the main house.

Yane lowered the note Megumi had made for her and stared back. “I am.”

He raised an eyebrow and nodded, approaching with the pocky box. He had an indecipherable look on his face, but Yane assumed it was nothing negative.

“What are you reading?”

Yane showed him the note. “Just the summary that Megumi-kun made. Look at his handwriting. It’s basically a code itself. Not to mention he writes in cursive.”

She took a pocky stick Satoru offered, and continued her reading while he tapped away on his new phone. Why he needed two, Yane would never understand, but it was his money to spend, so she never asked.

She had other problems to worry about.

Training had drained every bit of her energy and whether Yane was willing to admit, staying inside the villa had begun to slowly drive her to her wit’s end.

The other night Yane even had a dream about sharing a hotpot with her friends, Yuta was even there too. Yane could have sworn she could still taste the cabbage when she first woke.

Her mood sank at the thought of them. How long had it been since they had a good mindless chat with one another? Nothing curses related. Nothing other than where they could hang out on their next off day together. But with her current, involuntary suspension of activity, all the work Yane could have done must have been shifted to Maki, Panda, and Inumaki.

Yane sighed, remembering her conversation with Inumaki. She still hadn’t had a proper talk with him either. Nor had she found a good way to clearly communicate her feelings.

As Satoru quietly munching away his snack next to her, curiosity rose within her.

“Sensei,” she called, knowing she already had his attention. “Do you have someone you like?”

Satoru hummed in his playful tone. “What’s this? More girl’s talk?”

“Not even close,” Yane laughed. “Just curiosity. I mean you are pretty handsome yourself. I bet you’re pretty popular with girls.”

“Just girls?”

Satoru took a pocky stick, waving it in his hand as if it was a magic wand. His body turned fully for the conversation. Satoru rested his chin in his hands like he was a schoolgirl at a sleepover and munching on the snacks, immersed in the talk.

“Does our Yane-chan have someone she’s interested in?”

Yane frowned. “Our?”

Satoru waved his hand. “Never mind the little details. So? Do you?”

She contemplated the prospect of telling him the truth. She could do that, or she could exchange that information for something else, and since Satoru seemed to evade her questions about relationships, trading romantic talks with him wouldn’t be a good deal. 

Something other than that , Yane thought. Something he wouldn’t avert.

“Sensei, you’re good at everything right?” she started.

“I could be,” Satoru smirked.

“Then,” Yane said, an idea formed in her head. “In exchange for telling you, can you help me make Valentine chocolate?”

Satoru’s smile grew wide. He held up his pinkie and spoke with the glee of a housewife sensing gossip afoot.

“Deal. If there is one of those chocolates for me too.”

Yane locked her pinkie finger with his, heart swelling from the excitement. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

Satoru’s voice echoed through the first floor just as Yane placed the last batch of chocolate into the refrigerator. 

“Yane-chan,” he called.

“Yes, sensei,” she replied and headed for the second floor when he didn’t descend.

Yane rarely travelled upstairs. It was only when she needed to inform Satour that the helpers had finished setting up his dinner or when his presence was required at a clan meeting. With all the prying eyes in his family home, it was clear that Yane was under observation. He was her temporary warden and this was no picnic.

Her footsteps pitpatted as she approached Satoru’s room.

She could hear him on the other side shuffling about before he opened the door, dressed not in his usual pyjama but mission clothes. He held out a large case for her. The matte black leather made Yane conscious. Each white thread looked carefully sewn over the casing cover. The case screamed artisanal, which meant it was expensive.

Yane held her breath when the case transferred to her.

“What’s this?” she asked Satoru, and popped the clasp.

Balancing the bottom of the case on one hand, Yane opened the cover. Three things were inside: a pair of red-tinted goggles, a pair of round, yellow-tinted glasses, and a light-grey, suede, pull-string bag.

“The glasses you asked for arrived,” explained Satoru. “I added the rest.”

Yane brushed over the soft surface of the bag, registering something sturdy underneath the material. 

The glasses were tactical. A logical decision for her own safety.

After her fight with Geto, and especially, after the incident with her eyes, it was becoming painfully clear that Echolocation was not as useful as Yane originally thought. It might be powerful as a back-up where her naked eyes failed, but switching between it and natural vision mid-battle did more harm than good. Even half a second was precious, and she was losing that time between switches.

Maki’s glasses had worked fine then. It gave Yane an idea. Sadly, the glasses remained broken after the battle, and as a result, Maki was stuck with a cracked view.

Yane studied the specs.

Style and colour choices aside, they would provide her with so much advantage in a fight. The extra bag, however, came as a surprise. Satoru was rich, but the money poured into cursed tools weren’t ever close to reasonable, and so his ‘addition’ to the gears made Yane feel like standing a bit too long in the sun.

She turned to him, trying not to appear too disapproving.  

“Sensei, this is…”

“Your ‘lucky money’,” he said. 

“I haven’t even managed to land a hit on you,” Yane reminded him.

To her surprise, Satoru took her hand, and tapped it on his forehead before he grinned and let go.

“There. Managed.” His tone filled with finality. “Now, can you be ready in fifteen?”

She closed the case, and readjusted her arm for a steadier hold of it. 

“What’s happening in fifteen minutes?”

“A mission, and you’re coming with,” informed Satoru. “Ijichi will be here in about fifteen minutes, so I need you to be ready by then.”

Yane nodded. “I’ll be done in ten.”

She rushed down and dug through her suitcase. Her mission clothes lie inside like a relic.

Changing took only five, and Yane would have left as is, with only her bow case, but her eyes were drawn to the new gears from Satoru.

She hesitated, and grabbed the goggles. Thanks to Satoru, Yane had options. She had only asked for a pair of glasses like that of Maki’s, but he had gone out of his way to have a pair of goggles made for her too. Those would be much more functional during missions. 

Her attention moved to the pull string bag and Yane chewed on her lower lip as she stared at it. Her hand made for the bag, and she loosen the string when out came the content.

She reacted, quickly catching them and laid them on the wooden floor for inspection. 

Every bit inside the bag was an item made from natural leather. Satoru told her about it before when she commented on the leather jacket she had to collect one night on the way up the stairs. That kind of leather shone, but not in a glossy manner. They needn’t. Not trying too hard, just good as they were. The quality spoke for itself, Satoru had stressed.

At that time, Yane hadn’t thought much of it. The horror of witnessing him leaving an expensive piece of clothing on a step like two-day-old trash was rendering her too shell-shocked to care. 

But now, a piece of that leather was lying right before her again. The dark brown of the gear almost seemed to blend into the expensive lacquered floor.

She gulped. Yane counted a cross-body bow holster, a matching belt with a dagger sheath attached. From the look of it, there were a lot more that could be attached to the holster and the belt as well. 

Functional, customisable, and expensive , she thought, incredulous. What exactly was his cut-off for luck money?

It appeared Satoru knew exactly what she needed to make a mission more comfortable. That sort of insight didn’t come out of nowhere.

Her heart ached with gratitude.

She quickly equipped the items when she heard Satoru’s footsteps closer to the staircase. He tilted his head when he saw her in the new get-up, as though to assess even more addition of gears.

“Looking more like a sorcerer,” Satoru jested. “Ready?”

Yane sheathed her weapons and retrieved her scarf. Her heart quickened. This would be her first mission after all the long training. What if there was no improvement in her skills? What if she wouldn’t be able to string together her training into something substantial?

Her lips pursed.

No. She was without a doubt different from her fight with Geto. She had been sparring with Satoru, and gotten better at it as well. All those materials about the Hama clan, all those knowledge of Yahiro’s alleged techniques, all that combat-polishing must mean something.

They had to.

Yane wrapped the scarf around her neck, covering it up all the way to her nose. The familiar scent of Maki’s fabric softener tickled her memory. Just a few more days and she would be back with her friends. She only needed to be a bit more patient.

“Ready,” Yane said and followed Satoru out the door.

It was still early in the day. The outside was barely illuminated.

They moved in the silence of the villa, following the parallel row of lamps leading up to the main estate’s entrance. There wasn’t a single helper in the way. It was as though she and Satoru were the only ones occupying the estate.

Yane hid her hands inside the pockets of her jacket.

Without her cap, the winter chill was seeping slowly through her hair and prickling at the skin on her head. A familiar stinging sensation bit at the tips of her ears.

Ijichi was already waiting outside the estate. Either he had impeccable timing or he was telepathic and knew exactly when Yane and Satoru were exiting. It didn’t look as though he was waiting for long.

“Good morning,” Ijichi said, opening the car door for her.

Yane smiled, and greeted. “Hello.”

The car left as soon as both she and Satoru settled. Although for Satoru, ‘settled’ meant ‘seated’ and ‘selected a good song to blare on the radio’.

Yane didn’t mind the tune even though she couldn’t decide if the repeated lyrics of ‘gimme chocolate’ blasting from the speaker was his indirect reminder for her, or if it had meant something deeper. Ijichi, on the other hand, clearly looked like he wanted to rip those speakers and chuck them out the window.

“They’re cooling in the fridge right now, you know?” said Yane–preferred to address the elephant in the room rather than ignore it.

Satoru grinned, “I know. I just like the song.”

Yane shrugged, sitting back as the car moved, surrounded by the white flakes of falling snow. Unfortunately for Ijichi, Satoru’s choice of music wasn’t an indirect request, which meant he was stuck with the song until either A. Satoru was bored of it, or B. They reached their destination.

Yane rested against the backseat and closed her eyes. She wasn’t eager to find out which of the two possibilities would happen first.

“Don’t try anything funny with Yahiro,” Satoru’s voice rang inside the car.

“I won’t,” Yane pouted. “I’ll just sleep.”

“All right,” he said and Yane tried to turn her mind off from the slight annoyance by Satoru’s sharp intuition.

She would have succeeded if not for the jumbling instrument of the song. Though faint and almost inaudible between the tune, she could hear Ijichi sighed, abundantly questioning his choice of profession when he realised the song was put on repeat.

“How long until the location, Ijichi-san?” Yane asked, hoping to distract the poor man.

“Six-hour,” answered Ijichi.

She nearly choked.

“Oh.” Yane bit back a laugh. “I see. Well, it won’t be a boring commute I suppose.”

“I guess not,” said Ijichi, dejection wrapping each word coming out of his mouth.

Luckily for them, after about fifty replays of Gimme Chocolate, Satoru liberated both Yane’s and Ijichi’s auditory organs. The car fell into silence, but by then it was too late. The song was stuck in Yane’s head and she could hear it in her mind regardless of her will.

Her only solace was the thought of Yahiro, being part of her, was probably subjected to the same horror.

Ijichi took the opportunity immediately, briefing them on the mission’s details.

“You will be investigating a rumour surrounding the disappearance of vloggers in Toyama,” he said.

“I wasn’t aware Toyama was a hotspot for vloggers,” Yane commented.

“It is if you film yourself exploring haunted tunnels,” explained Ijichi. “There’s a famous one in Toyama.”

“Ah…” Yane sighed.

Of course.

Even though she was outside of the jujutsu world until recently, she was only made aware of the ghost-hunting genre on the internet about the same time as when her first few missions started. Yane couldn’t say she was fond of non-sorcerers’ tendency to venture out in the middle of the night with a camera or a group of friends, practically looking for troubles. It was as though they thought there was strength in numbers and night-time promised nothing more than a harmless, spooky tale for get-togethers.

Nine times out of ten, they would run into something they couldn’t handle. Nine times out of ten, it would be a cursed spirit.

“Aren’t horror movies satisfactory?” she sighed. “Those are scary. Why actually go looking for ghosts?”

“It’s the thrill,” Satoru said.

There was a hint of wisdom in his commentary that she found uncomfortably suspicious.

“Did you go ghost-hunting when you were in school, sensei?”

There was a soft chuckle coming from his direction, like he was recalling fond memories.

“For me, that’s just called ‘going on regular mission’, Yane-chan.”

“So, you’ve never actually seen a ghost?” she leaned right, moving her body to the gap in between the two front seats. “Like a movie-ghost, not cursed spirit.”

“The spirit in ‘cursed spirit’ stands for ghost,” said Satoru. “Why would I look for ghosts when I’m being annoyed by them everytime I’m called for a mission?”

“I’m not hearing a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.” Yane grinned. “Just a lot of words that mean you probably haven’t seen a horror movie. Or… you’re scared of them.”

Satoru scoffed. “I’ve seen them.”

Yane crossed her arms, her eyes squinted as she watched him through the rear-view mirror. “Name one.”

Nothing came out of his mouth and her grin turned into a desperate effort to not outright tease.

“You’re watching ‘The Grudge’ with me,” Yane announced. “It’s decided. Tonight.”

“I don’t have a TV,” said Satoru, much to Yane’s dismissal.

“I’m sure the honourable Gojo clan has one somewhere.” She croaked the signature, creepy sound of the ghost in the movie and she smiled. “It’ll be my thank you for teaching me how to make chocolate.”

“I’m so touched.” Satoru’s voice came out dead-panned and quiet.

Yane had a sneaking suspicion that he would be absolutely terrified of any kind of horror movie. Cursed spirits were different. Those could be taken care of and if they couldn’t then any sorcerer would be too injured or dead to care about how scary the spirits looked.

Movie-ghosts, on the other hand, were harmless physically, but impossible to predict and prepared for.

It would be a new experience for Satoru, which meant it would be a sight to see. 

He always seemed so ready and knowledgeable, but Yane knew he was for a fact. It took Satoru no more than a day to go through the basics of chocolate-making, something she thought was humanly impossible until he trotted up to her, one week before Valentine, with a sample plate. As if to add salt to injury, he had mixed his self-made chocolate with professional, deluxe ones sold in high-value brands, and Yane had eaten all of them, unable to tell which was Satoru’s work.

While that had inspired immeasurable faith in his skills, it also sprinkled a hefty amount of anxiety when Yane had thought about making the sweet herself.

Thankfully, his instructions were precise and fast, like his combat style. Yane imagined a month ago, she would have had a tough time following along, but spending time with Satoru and learning his routine, predicting the next thing he would do, or say, or throw at her, taught her to keep up. It took a good chunk of mental power and physical command of her body, but she kept up with him. Once she did, the initial unfamiliarity turned into comfortable challenges.

Yane made them into a checklist: assess and adapt. Sparring or making sweets.

And even though Satoru complained she hadn’t put enough sweetness in the chocolate, Yane also knew for a fact his sweet-tooth was unrivalled in her circle, so ‘adapt’ was a big part of the package.

“We’re here,” announced Ijichi, stopping the car once an abandoned tunnel came into view.

They all exited upon engine cut-off. 

Yane stretched. After a trip that aged her lower back by ten times her age, they arrived at a place she could only describe as the polar opposite of bustling Tokyo. Yane had seen her fair share of nature during missions, but never an open field and dirt road. Or an abandoned tunnel for that matter.

The tunnel ran a walking distance ahead of the agricultural town, which would have been quaint in the morning, and extremely eerie at night. Vines had taken over half of the entrance, dangling like loose hair over the arch structure.

“I think I’ve seen this movie before,” Yane mumbled next to Satoru. “And I didn’t like the ending.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen to you then,” Satoru said.

Yane frowned. 

Satoru disregarded her look, leaning against the car, completely relaxed like he was preparing to immerse himself in the simplistic atmosphere of the surroundings rather than entering a spooky piece of infrastructure.

Wariness crept up her back.

“You mean ‘us’?” she tested.

“No,” smirked Satoru. “Just you. Aren’t you curious how good you’ve become after training with me?”

She shook her head. “Not like that, I’m not. I thought I’m only coming with you?”

“You are. On the mission. Now, you're exorcising the spirit,” Satoru said. “Later, I’m writing the report. Team effort.”

“It’s your mission.” Yane pouted, more ready to eat a road-kill raw than experiencing a real-life horror movie.

Satoru gestured back to her, “And I’m choosing the best person for the job.”

He strolled over, putting both hands on her shoulders like he was channelling his capability as a sorcerer over to her. Or at least, Yane sincerely hoped that the bubbling sensation at the pit of her stomach was power welling up and not the early on-set of a panic attack.

“Don’t worry,” assured Satoru. “It’s not a difficult mission. The curse spirit isn’t tough. You’ll manage.”

“Says you,” Yane pouted.

“Says my Six Eyes,” he chuckled and turned her around to face the tunnel. “Now, go. You’ll have a much easier time if you finished exorcising before sunset.”

“I’ll drop the Veil,” announced Ijichi before he started chanting.

The dome-like structure started in the middle of the sky and dripped towards the ground. Yane stared in awe at the gradience on theVeil’s surface. It moved as though it was alive, swirling and rippling.

“That’s beautiful,” she mumbled and approached, almost forgetting the tingling of her nerves accompanied by the mission. “It looked just like how it was on Echolocation.”

“We’re good to go,” Ijichi notified.

Yane took his words as a cue, and braced herself. Two deep breaths and she was off, headed for the tunnel.

She wore anxiety like an extra piece of gear. The butterflies in her stomach sent faint tingles straight to her fingertips everytime the earth cracked wrong. 

It was the first time Yane had ever gone in by herself. Only second-grade sorcerers were allowed to do that, and even then, their mission was contained enough for them to handle alone. At least that was what Inumaki had said.

This, on the other hand, was a lot of ground to cover.

Yane did the maths in her head, quickly realising it would take her a long time to canvas the entire area encompassed by the Veil. Satoru clearly wasn’t sending her in to take care of every spirit in the area. There was a goal to this job.

Still , she grimaced and stared at the spirits gathering on the cement curve of the tunnel. I can’t just let them become more dangerous.

They were all fourth-grade. Nothing a good punch couldn’t handle, but they were high up, and the energy it took to get to them was the problem.

Yane frowned.

Maybe that was why they chose to gather above her head rather than spreaded about on the asphalt. Weak, but smart. Low-rank spirits like them usually acted on instinct. She shuddered to think what these fourth-grade would be like if they were left to fester into something more sinister.

Yane scanned the ground. Years of neglect hadn’t damaged the asphalt one bit but groups after groups of morbidly curious idiots had certainly littered the ground with more gravel and broken rocks than safe for driving. She crouched, picking up little rocks like she was planting rice.

It would just be like when she cooked without sight. Only this time, Yane was building mini, cursed energy explosives. They would still deal damage, but not enough to make a third-grade spirit sore the next morning.

The cluster of fourth-grade stared at her from the tunnel’s top. For reasons unknown to Yane, they were all shaped like hands, except for their joints which were replaced with eyes, and those eyes didn’t blink simultaneously. It was as though each of those peepers had a mind of their own or the spirits were trying to flirt with her and couldn’t decide on which eye they wanted to wink at her first.

Yane concluded it was most likely not the latter.

The spirits had no mouth but the cacophony of quiet taps caused by their fingertips (or legs, it was hard to tell biologically) on the concrete surface made the hairs on Yane’s arm raise.

The only positive thing about them was their colour. At the very least, they didn’t look like actual bloody, severed hands. Although they were shaped like them, the colour of the skin ranged anywhere from a bruised pepper to five-day-old lettuces. Creepy, but not enough to haunt her dreams.

She drew out Yahiro’s cursed energy and infused it into the rocks. The cursed spirits’ eyes moved erratically, glaring left and right as they studied her. Even on instinct, those things knew she was the enemy.

Yane chucked the rocks at them, backing away when they exploded on contact and fell to the ground in a coloured downpour of mouldy pink and blue.

“Not exactly what I had in mind when I asked for the glasses,” she mumbled and wiped away a drop of cursed spirit goo on her specs.

The path forward was clear and open, disturbingly inviting.

Yane hauled a few more rocks and stored them in her pockets before she marched on where there were certainly more spirits to exorcise. 

As long as this tunnel was left to entertain people with too much time and not enough discretion, those fourth-grade would return. Maybe not as creepy hands but something else equally unnerving. But that wouldn’t be Yane’s business. She certainly hoped that was the case and this wouldn’t become a seasonal thing. 

Staying on the road led her to no more than a few slightly higher ranking spirits. Nothing over third-grade, however. Nothing worth calling for Satoru Gojo.

From her own knowledge of missions,  first-hand or second-hand, people went missing all the time in Japan. Non-sorcerers focused on the ‘why’. Yane, and the others in the profession, paid attention to the ‘how’. Negative feelings bred cursed spirits, traumatic deaths bred dangerous cursed spirits. Based on Ijichi’s information, this sounded like a place for both. There was bound to be one dangerous spirit lurking about this area. Only one if Yane was lucky.

After each kill, a cursed spirit became stronger. The negative emotions associated with death, the trauma inseparable from it fed into tell-tales and hushed whispers and changed into more cursed energy. It was an unending spiral and the only party came out winning was the cursed spirit.

“Does he seriously think I can do this alone?” Yane kicked a nearby stone and sat on the boulder from which it ricocheted.

She hadn’t noticed how much time had passed since she started hunting cursed spirits or how sore her legs had become after travelling up and down the hills on the left side of the road. 

The sun was up now and even though it didn’t provide much change to the chilly temperature, Yane was willing to take any warmth she could get. Uncomfortable was better than freezing.

She scanned the area. Winter and wildlife had done a number on the scenery around her. Trees grew crooked and tall grasses were abundant. There was nothing worth worrying in the vicinity.

Yane rose from her seat and climbed up the right-side hill this time. At least the cold made it less tiring to move.

“Not exactly the Valentine I was hoping for,” she mumbled and swatted a patch of tall grass out of her way. Given the dirt and broken vegetation clinging to her clothes, a quick shower was in order before she could meet up with Maki and the boys.

She grew nervous.

Considering the six-hour ride back and how the sun was fully out in the sky, there might not be a lot of time to dilly-dally if she was to be punctual. Preserving energy was a good tactic, so was staying hydrated, and she was doing fine so far. She could afford to be a bit bolder.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Yane huffed and activated Echolocation.

A writhing shape of dense energy cropped up, shocking her concentration back to clarity. Exorcising physically less draining cursed spirits were great until their numbers quadrupled her expectation and their positions were scattered across the plane. 

Not only did the exhaustion of repeatedly picking up rocks and throwing them at fourth-grades, or stabbing a third-grade into oblivion crept on her, it was gradually chipping away her focus.

There should have been a better way for her to exorcise curses like this without risking a potential slipped disc.

Or a better cursed tool , Yane thought as she gingerly removed herself from a rather clingy patch of overgrown vegetation.

Her once cleaned clothes were covered fully in dirt and broken pieces of dry leaves, and she was starting to feel the need for a water bottle. Walking all the way out for water before making the whole way back in again felt more like a nuisance than a good idea now that she was close to the top of the hill.

Yane took out her bow, right hand ready on the string.

A low, rumbling collection of whispers grew as she sneaked up on the spirit. What Yane saw felt almost like a joke.

“First, eyes. Now, mouths,” she sighed and moved behind a tree, keeping her body low.

A non-sorcerer kneeling before the spirit. The poor man was shaking like a leaf in the storm, battered and dirty, but generally without any major injury. Unfortunately for Yane, he was one of those who could see the cursed spirit. Or maybe, unfortunately for him, considering that he was in full view of the mouth-for-pore creature.

She readied herself and her bow, forming an arrow before she slipped out of hiding and released it towards the spirit.

The captured man let out a muffled scream, scrambling, not away but to Yane.

“Hey! No–” she could barely manage when a shadow moved.

The spirit took a swing at them. Yane lowered her head, unsheathing her dagger. Metal gritted against metal. It took her a second, but she registered the sword-like edge of the spirit’s arms.

It didn’t have any head, but over-compensated with a gigantic body, and even though it didn’t look like it had a head in the beginning, the constantly flowing red liquid from what resembled a severed neck made for a convincing argument.

Yane felt a great tug at her leg and looked. The missing vlogger was clinging onto her with his shoulder and head as both of his hands were behind his back. They were tied with stained cloth. 

Had someone purposefully kidnapped him? As far as Yane was concerned, cursed spirits weren’t usually big on stocking up on humans.

But that was a problem for latter consideration.

“Hey!” She shook her leg. “You’re not helping right now!”

“Sinner!” one of the spirit’s mouths screamed.

“Sinner!” another added in a high-pitched voice.

“And you are really not helping,” Yane turned back to the spirit, channelling cursed energy to her arms, and pushed it away.

She slipped the blade between the captured man’s wrist and cut him from his bindings.

“Run.” Yane pointed to the tunnel’s direction. “Do not stop.”

The vlogger didn’t wait for a second order. He booked straight for the exit. As he left, Yane turned back to the spirit. 

It was regaining its balance, and it was angry.

“SINNER!” All of the mouths screamed at her, spitting out blood. Because of course they would.

She drew her bow string. “It’s official.” 

The arrow flew. 

“Worst Valentine ever.”

Yane jumped into the tall grasses, sending arrows after arrows in between the thin gaps. 

The spirit countered any that it could, and avoided the ones it couldn’t. This spirit was different from the ones she had fought. It was stronger, smarter, perhaps even more than the one she and Yuta had fought when she first joined Jujutsu High.

Yane circled the spirit. Her body weaved between the tall grass as she circled for its weak point. Usually that would be near the head, but considering the spirit’s headless state the core would have to be somewhere else.

Something wrapped around her legs and she gasped when a forceful pull ripped her out of her path.

She dangled in the air, up-side-down, head throbbing from blood pooling towards her brain. In the swaying view before her eyes, Yane caught sight of the spirit’s extended limbs. As if having razors for forearms weren’t enough.

Yane took her posture to fall when she felt the same force swung her to the ground. Dirt flew on impact and she forced it out of her system with a cough.

Yane drew a breath. Breathing was still possible. Which meant no injured lungs, which was a plus.

Something flashed and she rolled out of the way, barely missing the sharp edge of the spirit’s arm.

Back on her feet, Yane continued her attack. The spirit followed, unleashing its own attempt. Neither of them got a good hit in, nothing damaging enough to tip the scale of the battle. At least unless physical exertion and hunger kicked in for her.

Then, Yane would most likely lose.

She distanced herself, using more arrows to buy time. A memory surfaced and Yane’s grip on the bow tightened.

It worked on Geto, she thought, slightly doubtful. Somewhat… So, there shouldn’t be any reason for not to work on something less powerful, or sentient.

Yane shot another arrow and followed the trajectory. She front-flipped over the cursed spirit. As it swung the sword to deflect her arrow, she landed, twisting around and digging her knife into its back.

Yane hadn’t expected the speed of the cursed spirit’s reaction. The hit came faster than she could dodge. 

The world spun as Yane hit the ground. A searing pain spread from her left temple. Yane’s eyes lost their focus as she reoriented and assessed the damage with her hand, upset to see there was blood. Pushing herself to her feet, Yane pointed at the cursed spirit.

“You’re gonna regret that.”

Her knife was still wedged into one of the spirit’s mouths, lodged between the upperjaw’s teeth and drawing out goo from the damage.

Yane sprinted to the weapon and knelt, sliding on the ground by her shin, avoiding the incoming blade. She spun on the ground and jumped upright. The hilt of the dagger hung like an anchor. Yane grabbed it, pushing the blade further in, shivering when the metal grated between the boney white teeth.

Rang a sound she never wished to hear again. Yane gritted her teeth and readied herself for the next move.

There was a different way to use Yahiro’s energy, but she wasn’t a fan of it. Or what came after it. But it couldn’t be helped. Today was special, so she would need to make an exception.

Yane’s hand shook. She dug deeper into the darker energy inside. It recoiled as if to hiss before fully screaming like turbulent torrent, rushing into the path created by her energy. Her body cried out wherever it moved, rolling like hot coals under each layer of her flesh.

Stay where you are , Yane ordered when a familiar sensation brushed over her mind. 

Yahiro was there. She could feel him, cold like a ghastly embrace.

No , she chided herself. Stay focused.

Yane drew his energy out, fast and careful, applying it to the dagger through her skin. The energy raged towards its new target. The curse spirit screamed in agony upon contact. 

Yahiro’s energy enveloped the spirit’s skin, running across the surface and drawing out deep, dark red lines on the ghastly shade of the flesh. 

The lines moved as though to purge the spirit’s blood, replacing it with pitch black poison. The cursed spirit lost colours and vigour. All its energy pooled into a grimy ball at the hilt of the knife, and shot back into Yane’s body.

She gasped when vertigo hit.

Her knees buckled as she slowed her breath, focusing her mind to the assimilation of new energy inside. The addition spreaded through Yane’s chest like heartburn.

She braced through the dizziness like a sea-sick sailor. It calmed after a good while and she rose, brushing the dirt off her jacket. As the nausea disappeared, it took her stamina along.

Yane looked up, alarmed when the Veil didn’t dissipate.

She launched another wave of Echolocation and breathed a little easier when no stronger cursed spirits were detected, only those similar to the ones she had already encountered. Was she really obligated to exorcise each and every cursed spirit inside the Veil’s parametre?

Seeing that the Veil didn't disappear. That theory was likely true.

Yane hung her head with a sigh. She smelled like dirt, grass, and cursed spirit.

“Seriously,” she groaned. “Worst Valentine ever.”

“And she’s back!” Satoru held his hand up, grinning as he waved.

The victim was nowhere to be found, but by the hearty thumbsup Satoru gave her, the situation was pretty much under control.

Yane exhaled; arms akimbo as she dragged herself towards him. 

Ijichi handed her a handkerchief for the cut, and got into the driver seat while Yane checked her phone. Two P.M , she noted and urged Satoru back into the car.

“Let’s go,” Yane said and opened the car door.

Satoru held the frame, preventing her from closing it. He shook his head. “Hospital first, Yane-chan.”

“It looks worse than it is,” she argued, the gradual warmth of her blood seeping through the fabric begged a difference.

Satoru’s attention stuck on her like days-old gum. His hand remained on the door.

“Hospital,” he said, and Yane huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Fine. Hospital. Let’s go.”

Satisfied, Satoru complied, choosing to sit with her in the back seat instead of in the passenger seat next to Ijichi. If there was any silver lining to be found with bleeding profusely from her temple, then it would be that Satoru didn’t attempt to play any music on the radio after.  

He kept a respectful silence. Except for the meaningful smirk that he wore the entire ride back.

Yane passed the time by texting.

Maki and Panda were on a mission together. Unfortunately, their assistant was hurt so they would be travelling back by train, although it was unclear how they would manage to explain Panda’s presence on public transport.

Inumaki was sent out solo as well. His mission didn’t take long, but it was far away and so it didn’t seem like he would be around until early the next morning.

‘ How about we swing by a restaurant on the way? ’ Maki texted.

Yane’s fingers flitted across the phone’s keyboard. ‘ You bet. ’

It had been a while since she shared a meal with them. Her heart raced as she pictured the warmth waiting for her. Yane was about to ask for details on their respective missions when Satoru spoke.

“You handled that wonderfully.”

“Oh, yes,” Yane chuckled. “My head feels wonderful.”

Satoru tilted his head, “Didn’t you say it looked worse than it was?”

“I did,” she pouted. “But it hurted more than it looked.”

Yane’s pout changed into a deep frown when she heard Satoru snort. She knew he wasn’t laughing at her misery with any malice, but the amusement certainly didn’t help with the pain. He really ought to learn not to consider injuries ‘fun’. 

“A good job is a good job,” Satoru said. “Your control over Yahiro’s energy is much better now. Could use some improvement, but that’s just the matter of practice.”

Yane blinked before she processed the feedback. “Sometimes I forget you can actually see me regardless of distance.”

“That’s my Six Eyes.” Satoru shrugged. 

“By the way,” she started. “I saw the guy. The one was nearly killed by the cursed spirit?”

Yane continued when Satoru gave a sharp nod.

“His hands were bound. I don’t suppose cursed spirits do that.”

“Not the one you exorcised today. No.” Satoru confirmed.

“Is it possible–and I really hate to say this–for there to be someone kidnapping people and feeding them to cursed spirits?” 

As soon as the question came out and Satoru’s smirk changed into a wide grin, it clicked in Yane’s mind.

“That’s why they sent you today, isn’t it?” she gasped. “You’re not here to exorcise the spirit. You’re here to catch the people behind it.”

“Yes and no,” he said.

“Well, yeah, I exorcised the spirit–”

“The masterminds were caught two days ago.” Satoru removed the handkerchief from her wound and she took the chance to check it in the rear-view mirror. It was still oozing blood from the gash. “The spirit was left until today.”

“As a test” she added before asking “Was the vlogger a test as well?”

Satoru didn’t answer. She waited for him, but didn’t push. The answer wasn’t important. Whether the vlogger was an unfortunate accident with a happy ending, or if it was all planned, in the end, Satoru was still there. Nothing bad could have happened.

Yane had done what she needed to do as a sorcerer, and given Satoru’s reaction to her handling of the cursed spirit, she had done an acceptable job. That was good enough for now.

She kept her mouth shut the entire drive to the hospital. The exhaustion was taking over once the adrenaline dissipated. The only instances she spoke up was when Yane made a sound every few minutes because Satoru kept poking at her arm then shrugging when she gave him her attention, only to repeat it again just before she was comfortable enough to fall asleep.

After the tenth time he poked her elbow, they arrived at the hospital.

Yane rushed in almost as soon as the car stopped, startling visitors leisurely entering the lobby. She didn’t mind them or paid much attention to Ijichi and Satoru who still hadn’t exited the vehicle.

“Hello,” she rushed to the reception.

The kind-looking receptionist took one look at her and switched to alarmed mode.

“Are you o–I mean. How shall I help?”

Yane tried her best to smile, “Yes. I erm… fell down when I went hiking. I’m pretty sure I need stitches.”

The receptionist keyed in the information. Her eyes were running down the lines of letters on the screen like she was mentally flipping through a cabinet full of files.

“Did you walk all the way here from your location?”

“No, ma’am,” Yane said. “My… teacher drove me here.”

As if on cue, Ijichi scrambled inside and to them.

“I’ll fill in the information,” he said. “Yane-san, how about you take a seat at the waiting area?”

Yane nodded and looked at the receptionist. “Do you know how long it will be?”

The receptionist looked back at her. She seemed slightly concerned at the question, but smiled nonetheless, in the most supportive and apologetic manner possible.

“You caught us on a bad day,” she said. “Most of our doctors were out for a conference. But I suspect it will take at most an hour.”

“Okay.” Yane exhaled. “Not great, but not the worst either. Thank you.”

She made a beeline for the bench, noting Satoru was already making himself at home. He had changed out of his blindfold into a pair of shades, garnering cautious glances from his surroundings. Smart. It would have garnered much more attention had he worn the blindfold.

“You’re frowning,” he said as Yane sat.

“I’m in pain,” she huffed.

Satoru handed her something. It rustled in Yane’s hand.

“Candy?” she said and examined the package. The Chinese characters brought back a wave of nostalgia.

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to read the character for you?” Satoru grinned. “This one is green tea flavoured.”

“I know what it said!” Yane hissed before the wary eyes of the other patients forced her to lower her volume. “I’m not a kid.”

“Right. Of course. You’re definitely not. It’s just something to take your mind off your boo-boo.”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing and ripped the package. He was right though. The candy melted away the stinging pain on her forehead with its perfect sweetness. It woke her up.

Yane chuckled quietly.

A bowl of udon, a good shower, and a haircut, and they would be back to the day Satoru pulled her away across the country and into this world. Her life really was different now. She was different now. That was all because he was there for her then, like he was here for her now.

In his own way, Satoru had been nothing but accommodating. Yane couldn’t claim she understood everything he did or the reason behind it, but right now, and at least for now, she knew exactly what Satoru was thinking as he sat with her.

The joke, the candy, the insistence on visiting a hospital when Ieiri was a viable option, Satoru didn’t say it, but Yane knew that he cared.

She tugged on his sleeve and kept her eyes on the floor tiles, somehow shy to call him by that word again.

“Thank you, mister.”

She heard Satoru laugh. “I’m too young to be called that. I let it go before since you didn’t have a good grasp on ‘age’.”

There was a soft pause. He chortled.

“But you’re welcome. And well done.”

Chapter Text

“You could have told her the situation with our victim was an incident.” Ijichi’s eye moved quickly along the words on his iPad screen as he spoke.

Gojo crossed his arms.

“Would it have mattered?” 

He had made himself quite comfortable on the cushioned bench of the hospital’s waiting area.

When Yane’s documents had finally been taken care of and as soon as she followed the nurse into check-up, Ijichi dove back into his work like a moth to flame. Gojo remained quiet while they waited, busying himself with his phone. Morbid curiosity rose within Ijichi as he pondered whatever unholy message Gojo might be exchanging, and with whom he was exchanging it.

Ignorance is bliss , Ijichi reminded himself. And silence is golden.

Or at least it was until that silence came from Gojo, louder than a lung-crushing scream, directed in full force at Ijichi. He pretended not to notice, but when he turned, thinking he was executing a well-prepared performance at ‘accidentally catching Gojo’s eyes’, his stomach churned.

Shameless indifference proffered from Gojo’s face despite Ijichi’s unabashed recognition of the stare. Gojo simply didn’t care.

Most of the time, he was mean and that hadn’t changed for the last ten years. However, on occasions, Gojo was unnerving.

That intense air, overwhelming enough that it could scare even non-sorcerer, felt akin to intimidation arising from a predator’s status. Satoru Gojo was strong. He was strong enough to kill you and no one would be able to complain if he did.

He must have known this too, or perhaps, more precisely, he was made aware of it. The intensity retracted significantly over the years. He put on a filter–sunglasses, goofy smiles, bad jokes–to hide it, but on the rare occasion that he removed that filter, his oppressive aura came crashing down, drowning the poor soul at the receiving end of it.

One look would have been enough. One look was enough to silent an entire council of elders.

When he wore that look, Gojo was either gauging someone’s ability or sending a message. Like he was doing now.

“My lips are sealed,” Ijichi sighed.

“Good” Gojo smirked. “I trust you though.”

There he was with his trust. 

Ijichi thought it was his personal curse all this time–that rare and heavy trust. 

It was exactly what had made him running around between sorcerers and executives, fumbling over himself like he was the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. It was what doubled his workload, and also what made it all worth it.

Ijichi cleared his throat. Curiosity killed the cat. He was the cat, or he was about to be.

“You said it didn’t matter but are you not worried Hamda-san might misunderstand today's victim?”

“No,” said Gojo immediately. “Whether it was an accident that there was a non-sorcerer captured, whether it was a test or not, it wouldn’t have mattered. What she saw then was her reality. Whatever Yane-chan decided, whatever the outcome, the result remained the same.”

“She might have changed her decision if she knew.”

Gojo snorted. “Nah, she wouldn’t.”

“No?” Ijichi pushed.

“If that idiot died because she didn’t save him, or because she wasn’t good enough to save him, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead.” 

While that’s true , lamented Ijichi, there had to be a better way of seeing it. 

Gojo stowed his phone, and Ijichi could practically hear the whispers of the teenage duo behind them about the difference in his and Gojo’s appearance. 

He turned around and smiled. They could try working for this troublesome senior of his and see how that affected them.

The teenagers turned away immediately, face pink with the embarrassment of being caught.

“And if Yane-chan died because she was too busy trying to pass some test,” continued Gojo. “Then that’s that. That’s her level. But it wouldn’t come to that. Either way, nothing would have changed. Had it been dangerous enough, I would have stepped in.”

He cackled.

“But I was right. It wasn’t. And Yane-chan did great.”

Ijichi frowned at his attitude. The gradual processing of Gojo’s words enveloped him like tides. 

At first, he had thought Gojo’s interest in the girl was somewhat akin to a child’s first time getting a pet. Gojo was, after all, childish in many ways. Slowly, however, his constant involvement with Yane became unusual for Ijichi. It wasn’t simply about having someone strong as a student. Yuta Okkotsu never received that level of attachment. There was something else driving this peculiar compulsion.

And a single name reemerged: Riko Amanai.

Ijichi eyed Gojo, wary. His heart sank. 

Even if they were similar in age, they weren’t the same person. Gojo had to know that distinction. 

For the most part, Ijichi was confident his senior wasn’t so delusional to project whatever burden he carried onto a child, but at the same time, Gojo had done quite a few audacious things ever since Yane appeared. More so the longer they spent time together.

“Isn’t it too cruel to Hamada-san, though?” Ijichi commented. “I didn’t think you would make her face that sort of situation alone.”

“Every sorcerer would have to one day.” Gojo’s rueful smile came and went like a sunshower. His face steeled as he spoke. “Save yourself or save someone else. No sorcerer can save everyone.”

He unfurled his arms and rested them both on the back of the bench.

“No reason to fault Yane-chan for having high ideals but as her teacher, it’s also my duty to open her eyes to reality. Whether she decides to think more realistically after is up to her.”  

Ijichi flinched. Gojo’s eyes were back on him. His heart quickened when he saw the glowing blue pupils behind the edge of the shades. Anxiety turned his throat bitter.

He swallowed.

“You seem to be mistaking something, Ijichi,” Gojo said. “Understandable. You practically didn’t interact with her.”

Ijichi frowned at the way those words came out. It was the truth. He hadn’t spent time with Yane the same way Gojo might have but that hadn’t meant he didn’t pay attention to her. It was his job to know the students. He was responsible for them just as much as any staff within the school.

Gojo chuckled.

“Yane-chan can laugh, cry, and fight to death for her friend,” he continued. “She can do the same for me. Well, you too, I suspect. Anyone at school until they give her a reason not to otherwise.”

He snapped his fingers.

“In other words, people around her, but not people in general. Remember that distinction well.”

“So” Ijichi spoke as though to test a hypothesis. “She could have ignored that non-sorcerer. Is that what you’re saying?” 

Gojo nodded.

“She is attached to us. She sees us favourably. She wants to do what pleases us, but that’s no different from a little chick following the first moving thing that they see.”

“You mean to say she… imprinted on us?” Ijichi’s breath abated. “On her friends? Gojo-san, she is a human .”

He wasn’t sure how much Yane had improved in terms of her skill as a sorcerer, but the shivering girl sitting in his car looking for security before battle wouldn’t have just disappeared. She knew fear. She knew death. She knew life and the joy that accompanied it. No matter what anyone said, in his eyes, Yane was just as human as they came. She had a heart just as any of them did, and they were responsible for keeping guard of that humanity she carried.

She was a clueless child when she arrived at the school, but it hadn’t meant she should have been made a target. If anything, Ijichi would argue it should have been the opposite. Someone that young, abandoned by their own family, should be protected, not used. 

His blood ran cold when he saw Gojo grinned at him. His threatening aura returned, only that it did without reasons or meaning.

Gojo fished out his phone. His fingers moved lazily as he typed. There was an erratic flare of glee in his eyes hidden behind the darkened glasses. Ijichi wasn’t quite sure if that had meant something good, or if it was a prelude to a mountain of additional paperwork awaiting his return.

Gojo spoke, eyes glued to his phone screen. 

“Yane-chan was built to absorb information quickly, and transform that information into power. That’s what the Hama clan wanted when they painstakingly created their cursed tool. ‘Whatever it takes’, I’m sure. No matter the cost or method.”

His eyes glanced over, but this time Ijichi remained composed. His mind swarmed with thoughts.

Was his observation of Gojo wrong?

Was Yane something less a pet, and more a new, shiny toy? Something he could use, something he could test, something he could break down and rebuild again?

No. That was simply impossible. Satoru Gojo was reckless and offensive, but he was far from cruel. Manipulation and control were the executives’ favourite method. They were exactly what Gojo had always openly (and thoughtlessly) denounced.

Gojo’s stare lasted for ten excruciating seconds before it redirected back to the phone and a mysterious smirk bloomed across his lips.

Ijichi shuddered.

This man, even though good at heart, was capable of ending another person’s life. More than his Six Eyes, more than his cursed technique, or his family’s influence, it was his position tip-toeing the line of morality that made him dangerous in Ijichi’s eyes. That ambiguity made him uncontrollable.

As an ally, he was invincible. As an enemy, however…

Knowing the way this world operated, Gojo could have turned into their enemy any time he wanted. No wonder the executives were cautious.

“Will you eventually tell Hamada-san about the order?” Ijichi asked, not quite sure what to expect in Gojo’s answer.

Gojo remained silent. He didn’t so much frown or lift an eyebrow. His face was a neutral shade of serene as though to both say ‘no’ and ‘why’ at the same time. 

Ijichi, too, asked himself about the reason behind the question. He didn’t have any particular right to advise Gojo on ‘the right thing’. In his shoes, Ijichi wasn’t quite sure what the right thing to do was either. The Hama clan was, without a doubt, dangerous. Hunting them and executing them were no more than following rules. Those rules existed to ensure structure, and to provide contingency, but that hadn’t meant they were safe from abuse or discrimination. 

As much as Ijichi would like to think he was unrelated to how the rules were applied, he couldn’t say he slept well at night with that thought either. One simply couldn’t pretend they couldn’t see the dark side when they were part of the system.

In any case, keeping something this big from Yane, even though necessary, might be unfair to her.

“What about you?” Gojo asked suddenly. 

“I’m sorry?” Ijichi nearly squeaked.

“You said she was a human. Are you going to treat Yane-chan as a cursed tool if  the executives ordered you to do it?”

The question stung. Ijichi blinked, physically registering the uncanny discomfort of the gears in his brain turning in search of a satisfactory answer. 

His mouth opened, then closed. It repeated the motion, making half-formed sounds instead of words.

Finally, he turned to Gojo, painfully aware of the sweats forming behind his ears. “And you, Gojo-san?”

To his distress, Gojo shrugged. 

“Who knows.” He said simply before taking out his wallet and pushed a black card at Ijichi.

“Tell that receptionist if there’s any more tests the doctor needs to order for Yane-chan’s check-up, they can go ahead and charge all of them here.”

Ijichi stared, registering the words. The one time they had followed all of the procedures and Gojo suggested paying with his card. That would just be more paperwork.

“By protocol, this bill is eligible to be charged to the school,” he explained.

“Sure,” said Gojo. “If there’s a need for reimbursement from the school. You understand what I’m saying, right?”

Hesitant, Ijichi took the card like it was boiling tar. “Are you sure you don’t want it reimbursed?”

“Can’t have the geezers find out I brought her out on my mission,” Gojo stated matter-of-fact. “Shhhh.”

He looked even more like a kid now, pretending to shush something into a secret. Whatever direction the wind had changed, it seemed Gojo was willing to open his wallet for this. 

He had always been a mystery. Still was. 

Saying that Yane was a newborn animal, saying that she was a tool, saying that she needed to be realistic, Gojo spoke like he should be the one behind those curtains instead of the executives. But that thought dulled as Ijichi’s eyes glued to the matte black surface of the card.

Gojo’s name shone in silvery light.

Ten years knowing him, Ijichi still couldn’t understand what went on Gojo’s mind. Funnily enough, he had a sneaking suspicion neither did Gojo himself. He was never one for tact or keeping unnecessary secrets. But as far as Ijichi could remember, he wasn’t one to say things he didn’t mean either.

“Okay,” Ijichi sighed. “If you say so.”

And yet, Ijichi couldn’t help but think there was more than keeping Yane’s involvement in the mission on the down-low in Gojo’s sudden decision to impose more potentially unnecessary medical tests on his student. At least, he hadn’t seen that for any of the other first-years, and he suspected this wouldn’t be the last he saw Gojo react this way either.

The amount of time it took for Yane to leap from Ijichi’s car, pass the scandalised helpers, and into Satoru’s villa would have made any Olympian athlete blush.

Her breath fogged milky white as she ran. The 10 P.M chill enveloped her, sharp like a reminder of how late she was.