Chapter Text
Standing before a hidden council, the room, however vast, felt unbearably full. The young adult had been there in the center in front of an invisible audience for who knows how long. The stiffness in her neck expanded towards her shoulders, even then, she didn’t dare to move. The higher-ups in their all-consuming power were unsympathetic toward the woman in recovery, quite literally hounding her after her more life-threatening wounds were tended to. They acted as if time was running out all the time and every tiny bit of unrest would overthrow them from their world of power. Utahime found it hard to despise them as some of the other student sorcerers did. Even if they did abuse their power, it was for the most part, for the best interest of sorcerers and nonsorcerers alike. Thanks to them and their regulations, she could live comfortably (when she wasn’t out on the field tracking and exorcising). A reasonably spaced apartment complex 20 stories high, above-average pay, and a potential teaching position at the Kyoto school. It’s all good.
“Did Nariko Kana display any abilities during the attack? Anything that could not be explained?”
But there was a small bothersome zilch in the gathering that day that left a weird taste in her mouth. It made the benefits of being affiliated with the higher-ups not feel so good. They are all too damn paranoid, and their tendencies are ruthlessly intense.
It was no secret. The sole situation on its own was practically being broadcasted around the globe, rumors reaching the ears of people gullible enough to try and get closer to the source of it. Jujutsu history was code for highlighting who had a title, and the superiority to ratify, create, or reject laws. Lineage and techniques are keystones in the ranking of power within the hidden society. It defined your entire being. Your strength . Most of all, the blood that coursed through your veins was indicative of the role you must play in the world, whether you’d tip the balance or be just what was needed to keep it tied together. The point is, that history mattered. Blood is significant.
History behind Kana was antediluvian, extensively. Rumors whirlwind unyieldingly but there was one thing for sure. Neither of the teenagers’ parents was any more intertwined with jujutsu beyond having cursed vision. Her bloodline was clean of exceptionalism. The big deal had to be groundbreaking. Kana is cursed. More than they can imagine.
At least that’s what Utahime guessed. She didn’t know. Nobody did. Everything was just misinformation morphing and molding into wilder and bizarre theories.
Utahime ground her teeth, why did they care so much ? The girl was scared shitless but that never rendered her helpless. She was strong, even without showing an innate technique. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Except for that time she was entranced by her eyes. What had that been all about? Was it seriously something to do with the reason why all the old geezers were so interested in? Apparently, she had turned invisible before. Nanami had brought forth the suggestion that it was probably a reflex that triggered the weird ability, like a natural fight or flight response. Kana was as nervous as a bunny in a pet farm on her journey to the school with Utahime, and between the car flipping and fighting two trained assassins, a flighty instinct did not set in motion her vanishment from existence. Nothing happened.
Kana did not use any technique.
“No. Kan- Nariko , never once acted with such an ability.”
“You just graduated didn’t you?” Somebody stated more than questioned. Utahime bristled, hearing a disembodied voice and knowing that false shadows dance behind low-lit shoji screens made the room feel haunting.
“Yes.”
“Understand this. You are young, but not idiotic as some. If you are in any way shape or form underneath some pact Nariko Kana, lying now will only serve in your expulsion and punishment by death for going against.” The same voice remained monotonous, the threat channeling a restrained fury Utahime physically gulped at.
Were they mad at her for not telling them what they wanted to hear? Or mad that they too did not understand the girl they had taken in?
“I, Utahime Iori, am only stating the truth.” It was a wonder her body’s shaking did not falter her own words.
There was a pause and an odd discomfort in her brain. The tip of her tongue warmed, atypical buzzing tickled her taste buds like the sourness of a lemon. It was gone as soon as she acknowledged it. Bile stained the roof of her mouth. Somebody had just used their cursed technique on her. Not a shock. Higher-ups were infamous for being paranoid. It was still disturbing, that she stood there without means of being disloyal or dishonest and they took that shoving it back into her face by using the truthful tongue technique. They trust no one.
“You are dismissed.”
Before she had completely left the room there was another physical presence. A woman, words spun in velvet that was soft to the touch yet encaptured a dark resentment towards the council with bravery (or maybe it was naivety).
“As I have stated before. Kana is not the inheritor of the…”
The doors closed behind her, locking on their own accord. Utahime didn’t bother breathing until she was out of sight from the doors. Gasping out she clutched her chest.
“I never want to go in there again.”
Shuddering, she composed herself thinking back to the girl that had been restricted from any sort of contact with people until the council decides on what they do with her. Those privileges she had felt weighted on the expensive yukata she wore, she had just bought them two days after her most recent paycheck. Maybe Satoru had a point.
Inside the meeting room, a famed photographer pleads the case that her daughter is not who she appears to be. They ignore her.
~
Some teenage girls had canvas tote bags as a day-to-day accessory. Pretty, printed with the basic yet equally lovely artworks of a Vincent Van Gogh painting or a minimalist quote from a foreign poet. In place of a handy accessory, Kana worked with a portable IV drip. It had been four days, the blood loss lethal enough to have her knocked out for 48 hours. On her third day she awoke with minimal signs of death. And now it has been the fourth, through curious self-examination she was able to discover that she could properly walk around without the feeling of being in a trippy state of vertigo.
It was empty, the sterile grey recovery room she was in. No one in sight. So why did she feel something watching her every move?
Light filtered through bamboo blinds in even strips, casting over the surface of her form like bars of a cell. A birdcage, where she was just a peculiar exhibit for disembodied eyes to scrutinize. The wooden floors and tall eggshell-colored ceilings and all that it housed were eerily vacant. It was a completely different place from where she was admitted the first time she had been to the school. The recovery room was full of sterile equipment, a little staff room that she had labeled a common space with an egg chair and a tiny veranda closed off to the rest of the school's view. There was the main single hall that was quite literally an endless paradox and she somehow always ended up back in one of the areas she was now more familiar with. A billion years could’ve passed and she wouldn’t notice.
Life was a lot more interesting and thrilling now that she had accepted jujutsu. Call her silly, but she had a serious gut feeling that this would be one of the only times she’d get to catch her breath and rest quietly. No, it wasn’t because she hadn’t had anything solid in her stomach for the past four days either. It was just a prediction that would probably turn out to be 100% true, the way that you know someone is speaking of you when you unexpectedly sneeze out of nowhere. She would stomach the deafening silence now for when she won’t be around it as much in the future. Plucking one out of their comfortable social environment is a recipe for chaos. What does someone do when their routine is in shambles? The fluffy-headed bandage-covered girl makes do with watching her treatment drip-drop-drip-drop and trickle into her system, imagining herself getting stronger and stronger instead of thinking about how there’s an actual fucking needle impaled into her skin. It hasn’t even been a week since there was just a foul odored flesh melting poison on her ankle. It’s horrible, knowing that she was the main factor in increasing the chances of mortality of real living and breathing people. Her life was one full of much debt, that doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon.
“Psst.”
Jolting in the wicker egg chair, Kana snapped her head to locate the voice. She wasn’t starting to imagine things right? The sound resonated from the veranda, the door opened so that she could listen to winds ruffle the viridian layers of leaves. She was not expecting to catch suspicious whispers.
“Are you a cursed spirit?” The voice was a little louder, and she resigned her anxieties. It was a tone she knew, only just recently. Unmistakable for its upward lilt. Haibara Yu.
Kana opened her mouth to reject the idea but the words fell short. There must have been some kind of context that led to a question comparing her to a horrendous creature. Self-consciously running her fingers through her hair she squinted at the floor. It had been days since she had last completed her usual daily rituals of using four different hair products to tame her voluminous strands. Hospital gowns were unflattering on anybody, as were the numerous tiny white strips of bandages scattered randomly all throughout her face to close cuts that were just scabbing over. Mirrors were lacking in the two spaces she was allowed to move in, probably for a reason. Pulling her knees close to her chest she hugged them, placing her chin above them.
“I…don’t think so.”
There was a sound of something hitting something and a muffled yelp. “You are so shameless. I told you she wasn’t. I’m the one that healed her.” This was someone else. A girl, with a stretched drawl in her words. Kana guessed that it made sense, the person that healed her would clearly know a lot more about her body's composition to make that statement.
“Her aura is weird. I know you were thinking it too! O-oh I mean no offense Nariko. That was rude. Sorry”
“It’s nothing to apologize for Haibara-san. I understand… erm- I mean I kinda don’t but… I get it?” Warmth flushed her face as she stammered out reassurance to him. It’s one thing to be the person that’s always apologizing and being the one that’s apologized to. Kana was clueless as to what a good or bad aura would be, any offense from the comment would be groundless. Oh, she had so much to learn.
“Alriiight. You know what you have to do, Yu. Don’t give me that look you already got to meet her first. It’s my turn .”
Kana sat awkwardly in her egg chair, eyes glued to the entrance of a short haired girl with a little brown package that was wrapped closed by a rustic style white string hanging deftly from her fingertips. It was a square package that measured around five inches thick. The girl had slightly droopy hazel eyes, giving her a dreamy look. Straight strands of dark chestnut stopped just right above her shoulders and a piece was tucked behind her left ear. Seizing Kana’s attention was the small beauty mark underneath her right eye. This must be another sign . She wishes her future holds a lot more pre-destined friendships. Little things like these had to be more than coincidences. She’ll defend that notion until the end of time.
Kana reluctantly stood up from her chair to offer her own introduction, the shorter girl beat her to it, cutting her words off before she even spoke with a small close lipped smile that appeared both relieved and satisfied.
“Shoko Ieri. I don’t care what you call me, either is fine. I know who you are. Our juniors speak highly of you.” Ieri doesn’t mention that everyone knows who Kana is (no one knew what she is). One glance at the ruffled girl and it clicked.
She’s that fragment that comes to mind once in a while, the one that she rarely thinks about because when it arises, it sits there idly and stings. She is the regret that bubbles underneath her skin, crawling and numbness that she casts away as she battles cursed spirits that are frighteningly a bit more powerful than she typically handles. The ash brown haired girl is the normal that young Ieri rejected at the age of 8 when she eradicated the countryside village of terrors they would never see with a swell of pride and loneliness. Nobody else understood. When somebody doesn’t understand something they fear it. When she saw a cursed spirit drain the life of a child no younger than she, it shined so clearly in her mind that normal humans can’t protect themselves. And now at 17, she sees that jujutsu sorcerers can hardly protect themselves either. Finding herself at the school at 15 was to absolve the isolation that she grew up in and to become strong enough to save every sorcerer and non sorcerer. A year ago Ieri would’ve fought tooth and nail to achieve her dream. Today Ieri knew it was just a dream and she did well enough saving one in six people who encountered curses. And as the missions get harder, and the injuries more life threatening, she doesn’t want to think about the normalcy she had been so quick to shun. The maybe’s and what if’s don’t have any room in her when she is straining to heal others and stave off death one more day.
She looks at the two beauty marks placed perfectly underneath their respective wide onyx eyes, and wards off the thoughts with more care than usual.
“There’s only two other second years aside from me and you. They’re not here, thankfully. I have heard that you’ve met the grandpa-headed ass. That’s unfortunate for you.”
“Oh my- he’s the same year as me?! Wait what happened to Kento?”
“First name basis huh. Cute. He’s actually a first year. I do get why you’d assume he’s our age. He is so gloomy, too much to be fifteen. Actually no, I wasn't any better at his age. Anyways, do you like him?” She straightforwardly questioned.
Kana nodded. “Of course I like him. He's my friend.” She wanted to ask how it was possible for the boy to join her class if he was younger.
Ieri huffed once, her version of a laugh. Amusement shifted the edge of her lip into a teasing smirk.
A second passed before a lightbulb went off over Kana’s slightly oblivious (but not stupid) head.
“Oh… you meant if I liked him.”
Body shaking in silent laughter, Ieri nodded.
Kana pursed her lips and gave it some thought. When she thinks of the long haired blonde, what comes to mind? He’s intelligent but only answers questions in class if nobody else does, she had never seen somebody get so worked up over being first in the lunch line to observe and try whatever was on the menu, he keeps his laughter to a minimum though he’s no pessimistic, conversations with him are fluent and ever changing between philosophical or silly. When he feels uncomfortable his jaw clenches barley and his eyes dart around, he won’t hide it. He’s confrontational when he needs to be, polite and stern-
“Woah, don’t think yourself into another coma. I can’t have the only other girl in this shithole leave me all by myself again.” Ieri poked her in an unwarranted crease that formed in the space between her brows. Kana relaxed her features, noticing that the girl had moved closer to her feeling more comfortable with her presence. Up close, a familiar scent flourished in her space. Cigarette smoke. It’s not a good habit to pick up on but she’s not going to say anything. Kana is no stranger to late evenings walking around with some friends and finding herself in an alleyway staring up into the cities night trying to find some stars peeking in the smog skies with a cigarette in hand and company next to her. Those were some of her best moments. The kind where her mind buzzed (in a way free of scrambled-ness), lungs burned, and eyes sunk in the jubilant adolescent behavior of friends with no worries. It’s easy for her to stop and not reach for a cancer stick constantly because she wasn’t looking to dull any sort of ache. Smoking was just for fun. Sayuri always despised the act and the smell, leaving Kana to her unneeded needs with connectionless acquaintances. Kana would not mind having late night sessions with Ieri. She hopes that she will become great friends with her.
Shoko wasn’t quite alone but her relationships were limited strictly to the close numbered testosterone filled interior of the school. The cause of a low girl ratio in the school can be blamed on old fashioned misogynistic beliefs that were barely being lifted during the turn of the 20th century. The Jujutsu High School was infamous for being incredibly selective, that remained the same funnily enough even during a time of a sorcerer shortage. Women only recently became allowed to join the ranks of the school, treatment however still needed to be reformed. That isn’t something that happens overnight, sadly. If Ieri could count on her fingers how many times she’d been given doubtful looks and underestimated, she’d need about a billion more.
Another girl's presence was like a full breath of air she heaved in after trekking hours in a waterless desert that stretched for hours without stopping to rest. Breathing too fast would do no good. She can take her time and get to know her first instead of squeezing every bit of information out her as though she’d never get another chance. Kana was a peculiar student that the higher ups intend to keep around. Why else would she be watched over so carefully? Stress about Kana’s wellbeing would be for nothing if she’s being looked after by jujutsu executives. Right?
Shoko doesn’t need to rush and ask questions concerning her personal life that was previously a normal one. Kana can be her friend, her first true girl-friend (that’s the same age as her). They could spend late night sleepovers in each other’s dorms speaking of things widely different from who’s stronger and what kinds of music they like. Occasionally they will converse about strength, they are jujutsu sorcerers first above all else. And being a girl is a close second.
Ieri followed the small pierce of Kana’s teeth on her bottom lip as she looked off to the side coming up with her words.
“Honestly… I am indifferent towards things that have to do with romance. It’s not something I’d like to get into right now because.. it always ends up hurting somebody one way or another ” Experience has her tongue in a knot. She’s not lying. Opinions can change, who she was two years ago was different from who she is now.
Disappointment flashed on Shoko’s face, sending Kana into a panic before she remembered that her personal emotions were allowed to have a place in the world. What she believes wouldn’t hurt Ieri. It’s just a concept. Things like that don’t have the power to damage people.
“Aw. That’s a bummer. I was kinda rooting for Nanimin. Better him or Haibara than the two other bitc-“
“Ieri!”
Both girls looked to the loud whispering that interrupted their private conversation, one mortified and the other unbothered.
Kana didn’t move her eyes from Shoko as she spurred her attention to Haibara. She wanted her to be with Kento? Or Haibara? What the fuuuck . Where does she even start with that? Kento is wonderful in his words and actions. Haibara she doesn’t know too well, but he had shown up and fought to protect her. They both did. To imagine a world where such people would be paired with her… unrealistic. They deserve better. Much better. She won’t mention it, but Nanamin is an adorable little nickname. It’s fitting.
“Yu, I’m sure everyone is aware that I don’t give a shit about whether or not we’re allowed visitation in this part of the school. Stop whispering.” Ieri crossed her arms.
The boy slowly peeked into the common space, from the veranda. “In that case you don’t want me on lookout anymore? I don’t wanna get in trouble again. Last time Gojo snuck into the pantry he made me play guard and Yaga came out of nowhere. Yaga! At the crack of dawn! Gojo jumped out the window leaving me behind. I was the one punished. I’d rather not spend a whole seven hours catching 700 fly heads again...”
“Yeah sure, I'll face the consequences, I don't care. Leave us be.” Ieri turned back to face Kana who looked emotionally constipated. Shoko was only slightly worried if Kana was experiencing some sort of aftershocks from the medicinal treatment she got but shook it off when she remembered who she was. Her abilities are not to be second guessed. She’s the best reverse cursed technique user in centuries.
Applause to the other 17-year old girl on the room, Kana really wasn’t feeling sick or hurt anymore. Nope, what’s got her emotions in a bunch is guilt. 700 fly heads… she doesn’t know what that is but if it’s a punishment she can be creative.
“I’m not worth the trouble, Ieri. It was nice meeting you though, maybe when this is over we can talk some more. This time, about who it is that you like.” Kana teasingly grinned. Shoko’s eyes widened a smidge from their regular disinterested gaze.
An ominous haze lifted, like a camera flipping its lenses as it changes its focal point. The barren facility and the two spaces that Kana moved around in had been remodeled. Where everything once appeared a queasy grey, now looked as though sunlight had personally been printed with the wallpaper and poured onto the wooden floor polish. Birds songs chippered in the air clearly, resonating in space. It couldn’t be the same place, Kana refused to believe it. Her eyes landed on the wicker chair. Hesitantly she let go of her doubts.
“Uhh, I guess there’s nothing to be worried about anymore.” Yu poked his head into the room, rubbing his nape sheepishly.
Kana didn’t immediately reject his change of heart. There was nothing to be afraid of. Was she afraid before?
Shoko sighed. “Finally. I was about to break the veil myself.”
Puzzled, Kana looked back and forth between the two. Maybe she should ask them to write jujutsu terminology for her to learn. She’s really lacking.
“Looks like you’re free to go. Come on. We have a lot to talk about” Shoko waved an arm for the confused girl to follow. Kana did without any hesitation. Haibara half stepped into the room before stepping back out. “I’m glad to see you doing okay, Kana. I’ll catch up with you later.” He raced off before she realized.
Everyone here always seems to be doing something.
“We’re students and we want validation. It’s what keeps most of us going.”
Brushing her bandaged hand over eyes, Kana wasn’t even surprised that she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Self control lessened in times of fatigue or stress, which she was experiencing a lot of recently. Shoko’s words were the sentiment of a global majority that were enrolled in any kind of education whether it be academic or art related. What went on behind closed doors of any school was separate from the world. Sometimes.
“True. We’re always trying to be the best versions of ourselves aren't we?” Kana added happily.
Shoko hummed in agreement. “Yupp. Anyways, I have a present for you.”
Heart stuttering, Kana held out a hand as if to physically shove the idea out of existence. A present? Shit, fuck, god-mother-fucking damn it all. She didn’t have anything to give in return. How could she be so inconsiderate to not bring gifts for the other classmates she’d be joining. Then again, she was in a car crash, everything would’ve gotten completely wrecked. She grimaced at the most likely fate her dieffenbachia had. May she rest in pieces.
Barely calloused hands gently moved her palm to lay flat, facing up. A weight added to her arm, light but noticeable. Promises flew out of her mouth before she could think.
“Thank you so much, Ieri-san. I’ll repay you with your favorite dessert… or anything else you want.”
“Hey there you can relax. Don’t go around promising things like ‘anything’ to people you’ve just met. Especially people around here.” Shoko laughed nervously in shock.
“How else can I say thank you? I don’t have a gift for you at hand right now, but what would you like in return. I make some good cupcakes.” Offers were thrown at the brunette as though she were walking down harajuku real-time (she gets a lot of offers to model).
A strained look twisted Shoko’s face. Sweets never last long in the establishment. A certain person makes sure of that. Goddamn that grandpa-headed ass. Nanamin is a worse glutton but Gojo is easier to shit on.
“Just exist here with me and it’s all good. This is a gift with no returns.” She shrugged. “Open it.”
A shallow gasp left Kana’s lips parted in admiration. Ample dark velvet pants, pleated in an accordion style that gave off an impersonation of a long flowy skirt if they were looked at from a distance. the second piece of clothing was a top, too bright to be called ivory and too singular to be named white. It was half sleeved, and cropped. The neck gave off a halter style. The fabric was light and appeared close fitting, but not skin tight. stretching it out to her frame, she noticed a thin suture with a zipper on the side that extended toward the neckline. Right at the edge was a button. Small and distinct.
“It's beautiful. And this looks like the same fabric as what you’re wearing” She observed the pants once more, fascinated with its fashion.
“That’s because it is. We get to design our own uniforms here. What makes them the same is the fabric and that button.” Ieri’s eyes lingered on the untainted top with apprehension.
As if sensing Ieri’s questioning, Kana smoothed her hands delicately over the top. “You aren’t wearing white though. Neither were Haibara or Kento.”
“I’m not sure what the reason is behind that. I was not the one that designed it. If you don’t like it you can submit a request to have it fixed.” Ieri didn’t care too much about the specifics of uniformity at school. The uniquely curated wardrobe for Kana was interesting. White is an uncommon color to see on jujutsu sorcerers.
“Who designed this? It’s so much prettier than anything I would’ve come up with.” Seriously, Kana’s fashion sense was a failing subject. She wears whatever her hands find first.
“I don’t know either.”
Their cluelessness united them in a way words never could. Kana liked that Ieri didn’t have all the answers. It left room to discover things together.
“Well thank you, Ieri. I love it. So how can I rep-”
“Gift with no return.” Shoko sighed (again).
Kana laughed. “I hope you know that I’m not going to stop asking you.”
“Oya? Well I hope that you know I’m not going to accept it.” Ieri challenged with a half smile.
“You will one day.” Kana chirped cheerfully. They always do . If someone has a favor in their cards, they are likely to use it, if not now then soon. But it will always be called in, at the end.
“Noooooope.” Shoko draws out.
Kana agrees to disagree. They’ve just met, so it’s comical to admit that it feels like they’ve lived in each other's lives for longer than ten minutes. Cliché’s were neither of their ideals, and funnily enough they have more in common than anyone would think. It’s silly how the stars align and paths connect, relationships form and suddenly, everything feels okay.
…
“Lift the motherfucking veil now.”
Hana Nariko is livid. Who in their right mind would leave a teenager who is freshly traumatized all alone in solitary confinement after being dead asleep for three days?
“It’s been lifted for about two hours now, Hana.” A tired voice answered.
She’s furious. Burning with the infernus flames of all hells. Meeting after meeting with outdated misogynistic idiotic pompous greedy absurd prejudiced men, anyone would lose their goddamn minds. Don’t forget the fact that her only child is being held captive.
Hana stood, fists clenched to the point of shaking. She’s never been looked down on in her entire life. Not because she’s arrogant or fearsome or a kiss-up. She worked hard and earned respect. She can walk into a room and be seen as an equal. She’s civil and cordial, and never a pushover. Her affiliations with Jujutsu were strictly narrowed to communications with the sorcerer schools advisors and teachers through a call. It’s professional. Sometimes a little lunch at a new cafe with a few of those advisors to discuss trends in cursed spirits among unwarranted spots in Tokyo or the best way to take an aesthetic picture of the triple-decker sandwich that just got served or how there’s an infestation of spirits at the Wcdonalds right across the street (probably from all the teenagers being forced to work overtime and try their hardest to not snap at the next person who gives them shit for preparing an order wrong when they were clearly not the ones responsible for it seeing as they were working the register which ‘Yes, the receipt does say no cheese and no mayo’). Hana is adaptable, changing along the times of the seasons with serenity and grace. It’s her trademark.
But, being picked up out of her business studio in a fancy luxurious vehicle and the reason for that excluding winning the $79 million lottery she had bought two tickets for really bummed her out. Alas, when she finally did ask why she was in the vehicle in the first place (after twenty minutes of silence had passed) and discovered it had to do with her daughter and a trial, she had tasted a particle of the unfair law that jujutsu abided by.
Four days of utter agony and fake smiling to unseen faces of jujutsu executive members have whittled the last of her energy. Enduring the meetings was the least worst thing, what had her screaming internally was her daughter. Four days without seeing her wide eyes and stunning smile that revealed the deep dimples on her rosy cheeks. Long eternal days and nights without hearing the gentle and glowing laugh release into the air with a warmth like freshly spin-dried blankets. Hana longed to see her. And she wanted to apologize.
Clinking of ice cubes settling in a glass broke the heavy silence that obscured the atmosphere. The sound of a slow stream of water followed. She hasn’t sipped it but the presence of it chilled her barely.
“They’ve banned you from the schools grounds.”
Fire swelled in her eyes as the glass exploded against the door. She had hoped it transcended the eggshell colored door and gone straight to the damned room hitting all executives square in the heads before shattering and leaving a mess they had no damn choice but to clean up themselves.
“As if that’d stop me from seeing her.” Hana spat, slamming her palms onto the round table where a circular outline of water remained, the last memento that the glass left behind before it left the world.
“They don’t take lightly to people who oppose their decisions.”
Hana withdrew her hands as if the table burned her and sat back down. With a voice as steady and calm as a serpent before getting ready to strike, a resigned smile lifted the edges of her plum lips, “I’ll kill them myself.” They both know that it’s impossible. She is just a window, the lowest level in the ranking of jujutsu labeling her a simple non-sorcerer with cursed vision. She’s as harmful to them as an ant is to a boot.
“She’s in good hands, Hana.”
“She dies either way doesn’t she?” Their eyes clashed. How does one tell a mother that their child must meet death? The woman waits no longer. She can see through the blank face that stares back at her.
Hana stood up, swiftly sliding her neon yellow work bag down to grab something. It could’ve been a gun, a knife, a bomb. She pulled out a camera lens cleaning cloth. If any of those objects really were in her bag she would never even consider bringing it out. Wiping the water residue off the table, in one fluid motion there was not a single drop of liquid to be seen. The woman moved to the door, ready to pick up the pieces of a broken glass. A large hand rested gently on her shoulder. She didn’t move or make a sound as the cloth was taken from her hands.
“Don’t worry, I will clean this up.”
She swore at the glaze that fogged the corners of her vision. The calm hand lifted from her frame. Desperation took its place. Kana was probably so scared of this new world. She wants to hand her the galaxy projector, and wrap her inside a blanket, sit with her underneath the universe and watch it churn slowly. Hana wants to hear her daughter talk about her goals in life, her graduation from highschool and college, her love, what she wishes for. Hana wants to cross off ‘walking on a sandy beach during a sunset’ on the five year old bucket list with her daughter who has never seen or felt the ocean mist tickle her skin. Swallowing thickly, she blinks away the blur. She will get to do all of that with her. She swears it.
“Tell her ‘when this is over, the first thing we’ll do is visit the beach.’” Hana squeezed her nails into her palm hoping the pain overcame the barbed wire that formed in her throat. Each step closer to the door made it more difficult to breathe. Her hand grabbed the handle with a fragility so opposing to the waves of emotion that pounded relentlessly in her soul.
“And Masamichi, don’t forget to smile at her when you say that.” A big gleaming grin danced blissfully on her face.
That would not be the last he sees of Hana Nariko, deep down he knows. The woman is tenacious, anyone who matches her dark charcoal gaze learns that. In her charcoal iris, it is a warning to not be the one who ignites the flame. She will burn it all down.
Yaga rubbed his dry eyes, thinking that it would awaken him with the energy he needed to get through the rest of the day. It only awakened dark spots in his vision as he had rubbed them too harshly. Since Kana was brought in, Yaga locked himself away in the dust collecting archives searching for clues on the teenager that created so much chaos just by saying ‘cupcake’ and disappearing. People say that hard work pays off, but all Yaga had after scanning through fifty different excerpts was a headache and a mother grieving over a child that hasn’t died yet. Once more, the man is pulling out articles and private journals extracted from different prefectures in Japan dating back hundreds of years. Yaga can look at his reflection in the mirror and say that everything he does will not affect him personally or emotionally. He can watch the words leave his lips while he does so, his face hardened with nonchalance. In the grand scheme of things, he is just a pawn for the higher ups to use. He says he doesn’t care but there is no mistaking the way his heart catches in his throat when he sends off yet another teenager to a fight they may not win. Yaga can try to convince himself and others that he is a cold slate. His soul disagrees with every lie he tells himself. There he is, fingers trifling documents. He believes that they both deserve answers.
~
He finds the teenager sitting criss-crossed from Shoko at the top of the stairs that lead to the dormitory's entrance. Kana is talking animatedly about something, and Shoko shakes her head in disagreement which results in Kana nodding understandingly. From the bottom of the stairs Yaga can sense Shoko’s genuine relief and happiness to finally have someone reside in one of the many empty rooms of the woman’s dorm wing.
As he approaches he sees the microscopic change in Shoko’s once relaxed demeanor. The reaction that is elicited from any student he seeks out on occasions outside of the classroom. They all think he comes bearing a message of their death sentence. They’re not wrong. The new sorcerer beams up at him, jumping to a stand in order to bow in formality. White fresh bandages spot her skin in random locations, one diagonally on her brow, another wrapped around her wrist, on her cheekbone. The IV drip was nowhere to be seen. For someone who had been knocked out cold for days, she looked as good as new.
“Nariko. Walk with me.”
She furrowed her brow slightly, smiling in confusement.
“Is it alright if Ieri tags along?“
He paused. “It has to do with your technique.”
Kana grinned widely. “My technique? Sounds legit. But Ieri can come, right?”
He shared a look with the girl beside her, one that Shoko understood immediately. Kana’s technique is her means of survival. Exposing that information leaves her vulnerable in more ways than one. Even if it’s information shared with a student. Kana doesn’t know any better so they make a unanimous decision without words. Shoko leaves Kana’s side moving towards the entrance, “I think I'm going to take a nap, Kana. This boring talk doesn't interest me anyways. See ya. ” She yawned for added emphasis, waving half-heartedly in farewell.
Kana waved back hesitantly. She did not wanna be alone with Yaga. Last time she was, her poor brain suffered too many consequences overworking itself into overtime with paranoia and 100% genuine stress (finals and midterms were nothing in comparison to this craziness). Yaga felt the anxiety roll off the teenager in pulsating waves. Her eyes snapped to a new focus every second, never staying dormant on one subject. They descended the steps slowly and in silence. Kana wondered what she could say to cut the thick quiet air between them. He had warned her about the people coming after her and maybe she took it too lightly asking for that one more day of public school. Was he…mad? She should apologize shouldn't she? She did put Utahime and Haibara at risk just by being near them.
“Stories never stay the same. Yours is still being written, but we’re guessing, grasping at pre-existing straws that we already know how yours will end.” The deep bass voice scared off her internal battle.
“Everyone dies in the end don’t they?” Kana intently awaited an answer.
And when he looked at her she felt stupid. She was right of course. The unanswered question was, how ? It buzzed in her head and underneath her tongue, a no-good curiosity, the type that results in the cat truly getting killed. It was a morbidity that she wanted to reach into the unknown and pull out the gruesome and explicit details that were being veiled beneath a pitch black cover. One could only stay oblivious for so long before they grow restless and yearn for knowledge.
“So I die. Why does it matter so much?” It was almost hilarious how she talked of her death with as much casualness as ordering takoyaki on any other day. Kana wanted to know.
“It doesn’t.” He rushed to deny. Oh but it matters a lot. Yaga couldn’t confess that this early into her exposure with jujutsu. Hell, he didn’t even know the definite details himself. Honestly, the hours he spent at the school in the old archives nosing his way for hints on Kana’s importance was useless. There was nothing. The myths and rumors were just the tip of an iceberg.
“Death a few days ago would have scared me too much to think about. With the crash, the assassins, and the blood loss, I’m still kind of scared. What exactly is it that you are expecting of me? Can you tell me what my death has to do with my ‘technique’ ?”
“The three major clans came to be because of their specially powerful techniques. You have nothing to do with that.” He hesitated. “Curses come from people. They accumulate and transcend into realms of negativity. Hatred, fear, anger, envy, hunger, loneliness. These breed curses
“Curses are not always monstrosities that can tear you apart with their own physical hands. There’s a difference between cursed spirits and curses
“In the time of the forefather of jujutsu sorcery there was supposedly an imbalance. A creation of unknown origin. A curse unlike anything. It was alive for the peak of a cursed age, when the king of curses Ryomen Sukuna was still human. It is believed that for a very short period of time, that curse manifests as a parasitic form that searches for a host suitable enough for it to impose its purpose and to draw out its strength. It’s a strange case. The amount of time that it takes for the curse to inhabit another host is sporadic and rare. Searches for a host almost always come out unfruitful. In other words, it’s a legend that doesn’t seem to really have any solid basis of truth. There is not much information to be found.
He paused. This is the most he’s ever spoken to someone. Not even Hana (she always just talks about the most obscure subjects). This clueless finicky teen had him running up the walls of his otherwise closed off persona.
“It’s a legend. There was something that leaves enough for that to be doubted. A side effect of being the host to this curse is the ability to disappear from both normal and cursed vision.”
Kana fiddled with her fingers behind her back. Discomfort oozed in her body language as she deliberated the ambiguous accusation in Yaga’s tone.
“You all think that I'm a host, huh.”
Yaga rubbed the bridge of his nose, barely lifting his glasses. Similarities could be drawn easily. But there wasn’t enough evidence. She needed to bring out the technique once more, hone her abilities, and experiment . Already, others seemed to accept the little evidence that was shown and were slithering their ways to get to the girl. The Zenin’s and the Kamos, their superstitious legends about someone with such an ability made them eager. It meant that Kana had potential, she was strong. It was time for him to do his job. He switched topics smoothly.
“As a student of the Tokyo Jujutsu High School, you must meet certain qualifications. Developing your innate technique is the base of jujutsu. That is easier said than done. For now, your focus will be on your cursed energy output and combat. That’s all.”
She accepted it, nodding in confirmation. An honest smile cracked her stiff posture. Calm air circulated the pair once more. “I look forward to my lessons, Sensei.”
Giving a tiny bow she chimed out a cheerful smiley goodbye before running up the stairs, skipping two at a time with ease. Alone, Yaga stood at the same spot unmoved and absentminded. The smile flamed in his mind like a burning piece of film. They were so much alike, resemblances uncannily identical. It’s true what they say, like mother like daughter.
A/N
woahhh. first off the world sucks right now. second, it has been really long since I wrote anything for this, and honestly, when I went to go write it was incredibly difficult for me to feel okay with what I had done. I never want writing to feel like a task, and recently have been experimenting with finding my own personal style for it. truth be told, nothing I got done satisfied me. so I wasn't sure what to do from that point on. obviously waiting for inspiration to suddenly strike would be a waste, I decided that I should just write something and publish it before I put it off any longer. sorry, this sucks. I will edit it sooner but at least I had a little to share :/